CHAPTER XV.

THE RETURN VOYAGE, AND SOME STORIES TOLD ON THE WAY.

On the evening of the 13th we left Juneau, and reached Chilcat, the most northerly place on our course, the following morning. Then commenced the return trip over much the same route which we took on the outgoing voyage, passing the mountains, glaciers, and islands we had seen before. The passengers amused themselves in various ways, one group in the cabin telling stories to pass away the time.

One of this party interviewed an elderly gentleman, and asked him if there was not a history connected with the great scar which extended across his face, and the gentleman very kindly told the following, which may be called--

THE CAPTAIN'S STORY.

"My name is Neilson, and I have been at sea since I was a boy. For many years I served before the mast, then as mate, and finally as captain, on many voyages in different parts of the world. Back in the fifties I was in command of a whaling ship owned in San Francisco, and we sailed from that port to the selected cruising ground in Behring Sea, between the Aleutian Islands and Behring Strait. Once we sailed through the strait into the Arctic Ocean, but the intense cold and immense masses of floating ice drove us back in a damaged condition. We secured a good many whales after some months' cruising about, until, one day, a violent storm came up, and we were driven ashore on St. Lawrence Island, near North Cape. The ship was a total loss, but all the officers and crew succeeded in getting ashore, and a passing ship took us back to San Francisco. I stopped in the city for some weeks, and talked a good deal with an old friend, Captain Samuel, who had also been so unfortunate as to lose his ship on a whaling voyage. We looked about and found some capitalists who purchased a ship for us, and we determined to try our luck again, searching for whales in the Behring Sea. Captain Samuel suggested that I should be captain and he would act as mate, but I told him no, that he, being the elder and more experienced, should be captain, and I the mate, and it was so arranged. The captain of a whaling craft always has a share of the results of the voyage, and the mate another, but not so large as the captain's. It was agreed between us that on this voyage we would divide the profits, if any, equally. It will be understood that at this time whaling voyages were very profitable, sperm oil often selling in the San Francisco market for two dollars and fifty cents per gallon.

"We shipped a crew of ten men, and a second mate, took on provisions for a long voyage, and sailed for Behring Sea. We cruised about over three months, and had remarkable success, having harpooned and secured several large sperm whales, so we felt that we were going to have a good voyage.

"The crew was a rough one, and sometimes we heard murmurs of discontent about the labor of trying out the oil, and about the food, but we paid no attention, thinking it only the usual growling among sailors. One day the captain and I were in the cabin, when he, hearing a noise, stepped on deck, and was at once assaulted by a man with a cutlass, and instantly killed. Hearing the uproar, I too rushed on deck only to be in season to see the prostrate form of the murdered captain, and a sailor with a drawn cutlass coming toward me. As I backed down the companion-way he hit me on the head, where the scar is, which has attracted your attention. I fell into the hold, and the mutineers, thinking I was dead, did not follow me. I found, in the hold, the second mate, unhurt, who staunched the flowing blood from my wound, and bound it up with some old canvas. At that time I was nearly forty years younger than I am now, and was as tough as men are made. The mutineers heard us moving about, and fired at us with muskets loaded with ball, but did not hit us. For some reason, they did not venture down after us, probably because they knew there were loaded muskets within our reach, and that we would be sure to use them. We found the muskets, but they were useless, having been wet.

"As every moment's delay was dangerous, we being liable to be hunted down, killed, and thrown into the sea, to follow the body of our murdered captain, it became necessary for us to think and act quickly.

"We could hear the men, who were collected together directly over the cabin, talking loudly and excitedly. I knew where the magazine was, and getting a keg of powder, placed it directly under where the mutineers were standing, laid a train from it to the bow of the vessel, and touched a match to it. The explosion was almost instantaneous, and tremendous in its results, throwing to the right and left that part of the cabin over which the mutineers were, and killing or drowning every man except three, who, evidently thinking the ship was a wreck, hastily got into a boat and rowed away.

"We listened for some time, but hearing no noise, went on deck, and found on examination that the hull of the ship was perfectly sound, and that no damage had been done to the masts; so that with some assistance we could navigate her into port. We obtained the assistance required from a passing vessel, and in due season arrived at San Francisco. There was a good deal of valuable sperm oil on board, which was sold, and gave the second mate and myself quite a sum of money, the owners being disposed to be liberal under the extraordinary circumstances.

"After this, I concluded to abandon the sea, and went into the business of supplying water to ships in the port of San Francisco.

"I had followed this business for twelve years, when one day, as I was furnishing water for a whaling ship, I saw among the sailors a man who, I felt quite certain, was the ring-leader of the gang of murderous mutineers who killed our captain and came so near making an end of me. I communicated my suspicions to the captain of the whaler, but he said that his ship was ready to sail, and that he would take the man, but would keep a watch on him, and find out if he talked while at sea. When this ship returned, the captain sought me out, and said: 'He is your man, for he talked during the voyage, and told about being on a ship on which an explosion took place, and he and two others were the only survivors.' I had the man arrested, but the administration of justice was very lax at that time in California, and the time which had elapsed since the commission of the crime rendered proof difficult to obtain, so the man escaped the gallows.

"This, gentlemen, is the story of how I became scarred for life, as you see."

Another tale related by one of the storytelling group ran as follows:

THE TRAVELLER'S STORY.--AN UMBRELLA.

"I am an expert in umbrellas, take good care of them, and they generally serve me for many years. I have one purchased in Florence, another from the Bon Marché, Paris, and this one, which I hold in my hand, bought at the Burlington Arcade, London, has been a good and faithful servant, having been used as a cane when tramping through Italy, France, Germany, and England. It has sheltered me from the rains of Japan, and the terrible sun in China, Ceylon, India, Egypt, and Turkey. It has been re-covered in Vienna, and had a new stick put in at New York, and, as you see, is now in fair condition. One day, in Constantinople, I wandered along the street called La Grande Rue de Pera, which is about a mile long, and on which are located the principal foreign shops; but I failed to discover anything grand about it, and one is annoyed to have to avoid stepping on great yellow dogs, who are sleeping on the sidewalks, when there are any, and in the roadway. At one end of this street are cable cars, which carry you down a sharp incline to the streets on the water. I took one of these cars down, and in a few minutes passed over the famous bridge which connects Galata with Constantinople proper, to a wharf, where I was detained some time waiting for a steamboat to take me on the splendid and never-to-be-forgotten trip up the Bosphorus, to the entrance of the Black Sea. Many large yellow dogs were wandering about on the wharf, and one of them coming near me, I scratched his back with this umbrella, which he took for a hostile demonstration, and bit the umbrella in a most savage way, with his long, sharp teeth. I succeeded in getting it away from him, and was glad that he did not try his teeth on me. From that day I have been careful about undertaking to pet strange dogs with umbrellas, or anything else, but I forgot the Constantinople experience yesterday at Sitka, when I went ashore, and after wandering around among the Indian women, who were sitting on the grass surrounded by their mats, bottles, and various curios, I stopped opposite one of them, and saw, lying down in front of her, a very small dog, which I supposed was a puppy, but it proved to be full grown, and a very ugly little beast. I touched him with the umbrella, and he barked in a furious manner, and making one jump, fastened his teeth into my leg above the knee. I shook him off, the Indian woman put him under her blanket, and I returned to the ship to repair damages with court-plaster, vowing that never shall this umbrella be used again to pet a strange dog."

Indian reminiscences being in order, one of our party related the following:

SARAH ARBUCKLE AND THE INDIAN CHIEF. A STORY OF FRONTIER LIFE IN NEW HAMPSHIRE.

"Sarah Arbuckle came to this country, with her father and brothers, about 1740, when she was sixteen years old. They settled in the midst of a dense wilderness, where the town of Merrimac now stands, many miles from neighbors, and she was their housekeeper. It was so lonely that many times a day, she would step out-of-doors to listen for the sound of their axes, and if it ceased for any length of time, she would tremble with fear lest the Indians or wild beasts had attacked them.

"One morning she was stooping over the fireplace, making the 'stirabout' (Indian hasty pudding) for breakfast, when a shadow falling across the floor startled her, and turning hastily to the open door, she was frightened almost to death at the sight of a gigantic Indian standing at the threshold, with blood streaming down all over one side of his face. He tried to speak to her, but she could not understand him. When she was a little over her fright, she saw that there was an arrow sticking in his eye, which he wanted her to remove. She plucked up courage, drew the arrow out, dressed the wound, gave him food, and he stayed there and was cared for a few days, and then disappeared in the woods. Some years after this occurrence, a war broke out between the Indians and settlers, and the Arbuckles were preparing to remove to the garrison house for safety, when, one evening, a band of Indians, with fearful yells, burst in the doors of their house, and the tomahawk was just descending on Sarah's head, when at a word spoken by a chief, who rushed in after them, every warrior dropped his hand, and silently, one after another, filed out into the darkness, leaving the chief with the family. He had learned enough English to tell them that he had been there before, and had been assisted by them, and that they need fear nothing. They might remain on their place, and would not be molested. They did so throughout the war, and had no further trouble. This Indian came to see them annually, for years after, always bringing them some little present."

* * * * *

These and other stories helped us to while away the time until we arrived at Nanaimo, at six o'clock on the morning of July 16th. Here our party left the steamer and embarked on a ferry-boat.

In two hours we landed at Vancouver, British Columbia, and found there a first-class hotel. Ten years ago, we were informed, the place on which the city is built was a wilderness, but when the Canadian Pacific Railroad made it the western terminus of its line, there was at once a "boom," such as has been seen so often in our own Western States, and now there are banks, public buildings, fine streets, electric cars, and all the appliances to make strangers and residents happy.