Chapter 2

1901

VI

THE DANGERS OF BERING SEA--A DISMAL OUTLOOK

The spring of 1901, unlike its immediate predecessor, did not bring forth general or even newspaper excitement about Nome and northwest Alaska, and the average observer of events, even in cities so closely in touch as San Francisco and Seattle, might have been warranted in concluding that the remarkable stories of gold in this latest El Dorado were but fairy tales, and that another bubble had burst. But this was very far from the truth. On the contrary, nearly as many vessels as the year before, and better ones, were scheduled to sail for Nome; more freight and horses were being shipped thither; and in the northward movement there was a confident and legitimate air which signified genuine belief in the country and ample capital to back it up.

The dreadful and discouraging reports spread during the preceding season by quickly-returned, faint-hearted fortune-hunters had served a useful purpose in very largely eliminating the riffraff and rabble which had, in great measure, contributed to make Nome in 1900 unsavory and unsafe. This year, as last, accommodations on the first sailings were purchased at a premium, or could not be had at all. Nearly every passenger had some tangible proposition in view, and, whether or not it proved successful, put himself on record as a firm believer in the wonderful hidden wealth of the country whither he was bound.

Sailing from San Francisco June 1, and stopping two days _en route_ at Seattle, the _St. Paul_, after an uneventful and satisfactory voyage, on the 16th of the month halted on her long way at Unalaska. I was fortunate in sharing my narrow cabin accommodations with two good men--W----, a man of the world, with mining interests in Alaska and possessed of a lively sense of humor; the other, a very gentlemanly and well-educated "knight of the green table," who begged pardon whenever he had occasion to enter our common quarters. When I first visited the state-room, to appropriate, if possible, the best places for my belongings, a bouquet of fragrant sweet-peas thriving in the basin interrogated me as to whether I had not made a mistake. Later, W---- explained that one of his friends, in the bibulous enthusiasm of farewell amenities, on the way to the ship had purchased this beautiful but somewhat embarrassingly inappropriate gift, and had thrust it upon him. It soon adorned the saloon of the ship.

Of course, the _St. Paul_ carried an assortment of curious and remarkable people--not so diversified a lot as inflicted the _Lane_ a year ago; there was a much higher average of respectability. First of all, it was pleasant to know that members of the "nobility" were with us--it gave us a "tone," so to speak. They included a couple of very pronounced Englishmen, a Russian count, and a trio of Frenchmen, one of whom, an inoffensive little fellow, monocled and dressed to kill, was also a real live count. The combination lived in style and moderate hilarity in the owner's room, and were scheduled to investigate their large mining interests in Alaska. Then there was a great, strapping hulk of a man, who wore a beard, long black hair which curled down over his coat collar, and a benign smile; and who had a cheery word for every one--of the type Munyon. He was reported to be the president of a mining company also having "large interests in Alaska," but he was dubbed the "Divine Healer," and was cursed out generally. As a rule, it is a safe precaution to steer clear of individuals who talk about their "large mining interests in Alaska" or who are "representing capital in the East." A tall, spare man, who bore the marks of having been shot through the cheek, was pointed out to me as one of the veterans of Alaska, and the one who, in the palmy days of the Nome beach, with a simple hand-"rocker" and two assistants, in twelve hours' work had made the record, by taking from the ruby sands one hundred and twenty-seven ounces of gold, or something over a thousand dollars' worth. This I verified later. We had with us also "Blanche Lamonte," the actress, of Klondike fame, and several other "fairies" and minor stars who had decided to add luster to histrionic art at Nome. It was a series of "concerts" which brought out, as it were, the _pièces de résistance_. These delightful affairs--"to cheer us on our long voyage"--were due mainly to the efforts of a tall, angular woman with short gray hair, who hailed from New York, with a down-East twang, and who, representing some newspaper, wanted a little spice for her article. She possessed, it was said, some musical attainments, and had engineered a successful entertainment the year before in so critical a metropolis as Nome. At any rate, she was the self-appointed "ship's favorite," and she _could_ manage to get a good deal of animation from a little box-organ. Though not a nightingale, this life of the ship would sing a few songs of her "own composition," and playfully insist that we "all join in the chorus"; and, on one occasion, apropos of nothing whatever, she announced that she was a mining broker and would be happy to market properties for the "boys."

I remember also two big, husky, good-looking miners, who used to interrogate me about getting up the streams to and above Council City. They had a grievance against their "disagreeable" cabin-mate. This was a Swedish missionary; and the complaint was made not because he was so "damned religious," but because he was unsociable--wouldn't enter into the spirit of things. For instance, when asked whether he was going to Nome, his only reply was that his ticket didn't read that way. Perhaps the missionary was canny in not allowing his room-mates too much leeway. And there were others.

As we approached the now familiar bold and bleak topography of Unalaska, it was apparent that the rumors of late ice in Bering Sea were well founded. The hills and slopes bore a good deal more snow than a year ago, and the atmosphere was more chill. There remained in the harbor but few vessels. The majority of the fleet had already forged into Bering Sea; but the _Jeannie_, a steam-whaler, specially fitted to "buck" the ice, was the only vessel known to have discharged its passengers and freight at Nome. This had been accomplished on the ice, during the latter part of May, two miles from the beach, the freight at great expense having been transferred ashore by dog-teams. We remained at Unalaska over Sunday, and that evening a goodly number of the ship's company attended song services at the Jesse Lee Home. This institution cares for and tries to make good men and women of the outcast and half-breed children who are gathered in from various Aleutian Islands. It is a good cause, well conducted. The poor little isolated waifs closed the exercises by singing "God be with You till We Meet Again," and it was a seriously appreciative crowd who listened and mentally echoed, "Amen."

Luck plays a very important part in getting through the ice-fields. The wind may take a sudden turn and so shift the ice as to leave an ample channel through which the ship, fog permitting, may safely pass on to its destination. But the _St. Paul_, setting out June 17 on the northward stretch, did not meet with these favorable conditions. She was soon literally "up against" the ice--not great towering bergs, but smaller ones fantastically shaped like floating islands, or swans, or whipped cream, for instance; very pretty to look at, but frequently only the frostings of large, slushy, and dangerous cakes that lurked beneath. Strange birds, somewhat smaller than penguins, sitting up stiffly and absurdly on their tails, marshaled themselves in military rows upon the ice, and occasionally a seal poked up its snaky and inquiring head from beneath the still waters. The sea was mirror-like. Sometimes, intensified by the fog and mist which hung about, the sun shone down hot, as the vessel crept slowly through the haze and maze of her uncanny surroundings. It was a strange, weird scene, recalling the "Rime of the Ancient Mariner," about the albatross, the fog, the mist, and the red-hot sun. Several times we lay to for half a day. There was now no night. On one occasion, when the ship slowly pushed into a cake of melting ice, the contact causing the red paint to gush to the surface, a bright Irishman in the steerage temporarily relieved the monotony by shouting out, "She bleeds at the nose."

And it was becoming very monotonous. It was then June 22, and with fair conditions we should have been at Nome two days earlier. Passengers became uneasy or disgusted, and many expressed themselves to the effect that our excellent captain didn't know his business,--that we were lost, and would likely have to remain thus a month more,--and they were for "butting right through" the ice anyhow. Some day there may be a great disaster in Bering Sea when an iron ship tries to force its way through the ice. There was a close call this season. Later in the day, however, icy and uninviting Nunivak Island appeared close at hand, some four hundred miles south of Nome, and we then knew where we were. Passing at half speed along it, at what seemed a safe distance, suddenly there was a bump, followed almost immediately by a reversal of the engines, a churning of mud and eighteen feet of water, and frantic efforts to get off a treacherous mud-flat. This seemed the last straw, but the quick action of our engineer saved the day and a very dismal prospect. It was near this same island that the _Lane_, our transport of last year, struck a reef on her way "down below" (Nome lingo for Washington, Oregon, or California) a month later. Her captain, imagining himself well out at sea, was booming along in the fog at full speed and with sails up, when the vessel struck with a mighty jar and became a total loss. The few passengers and the crew were all saved, as they needed only to step off upon the shore.

The _St. Paul_ anchored that night in deeper water and a dense fog. During the night fog-horns were heard in the distance, and a series of exchanges followed in order that the approaching vessel might locate us. In the morning the _Senator_, a sister ship, loomed up out of the fog, not a hundred yards distant. The captains held a shouting conversation, and, instead of being a companion in misery, we learned that the _Senator_ had already discharged passengers and freight at Nome, and was now on her way _back_ for another load! So, indeed, had the entire fleet, with a few exceptions.

Now knowing the course, and the wind having shifted the ice, we pushed ahead through the fog; and in the clear light of the afternoon of June 24 the unforgettable scenery of Nome presented itself, whiter on the back-lying hills and less inviting than a year ago. Mining men eyed it seriously; for it looked as if the terrible winter were lingering in the lap of spring, which meant that the (at best) scant four months' working season might be materially curtailed. And this seemed the more probable when scores of dories came out and clustered about the ship, their idle owners offering for a consideration to carry passengers ashore. It was hard to realize that one was back again at this jumping-off place of the world, having meantime covered so great a distance and lived in scenes so totally dissimilar. But it was not the same proposition to tackle as the preceding year--there never before was, and probably never will be again, a thing like that; I had now only to follow a fixed program until some happening or condition should modify or wholly alter it.

Orders were given for every one to get ashore right away that evening; and the lighters, towed by a small tug, were soon carrying the passengers thither, bag and baggage, and somewhat disgruntled. A few of us, who believed that, in the last analysis, those orders were a bluff to get rid of people, remained that night unmolested in our bunks, to visit the "golden sands" in ample time of morning. The waiters and stewards, too, were quitting the ship for good or evil; for these shifty boys--many of them pleasant harum-scarum Englishmen, younger sons of good families--had no idea of being satisfied with thirty dollars a month the remainder of their days. I wish I could have taken down in shorthand the experiences of "Perry,"--the way he told them,--who, encouraged, would sit in our state-room, when he could, and, to our great amusement, and most entertainingly, tell his history from the time when he played the races a few years ago, in "dear old England," to date. Before departing from San Francisco he had been dining with friends in high-life fashion at the Palace, the swell hotel of the city. There wasn't a more efficient steward on the ship, and he hustled for us in good style. How these "Atlantic Ocean boys" sneer at the less advanced conveniences of the Pacific!

Well, then, in the morning, seated on a load of freight and baggage, the rest of the passengers, in a misty rain, traversed the intervening two miles of then smooth water, and deposited themselves and their hand-baggage upon the famous, and infamous, shores of Nome. The "golden sands" at that time were partly covered by dead dogs and refuse, but everything else seemed systematic and orderly; there were, happily, no longer evidences of great waste and confusion such as prevailed the year before. That the lessons of last September's storms, however, had been unheeded was evidenced by the shacks and frame buildings rebuilt down upon the beach itself, and there awaiting a like fate from another ugly assault of the Bering Sea. One of the signs of the times which stood forth familiarly, and recalled scenes of the past, was that of the "Gold Belt Dance Hall."

While A---- guarded the baggage, W---- and I went in search of a temporary abiding-place, and decided in favor of an unfurnished room at the Gold Hill Hotel, situated in a less crowded part of the town. Into this we soon placed our folding cots, blankets, and personal effects; and as the bar immediately underneath us was not then doing a land-office business, we considered ourselves lucky to be so well settled thus soon. The sea, fortunately, was sufficiently calm to permit discharging the freight, which was well cared for and put under cover by the reliable Alaska Commercial Company, to which we had intrusted it and ourselves.

The next object of concern, after having delivered certain papers and seen several of the legal lights, was to determine whether one could then proceed on the way to Council City, and, if so, how; but the inevitable conclusion was soon forced upon me that I should have to remain as cheerfully as possible in Nome until Golovin Bay should be clear of ice. Several attempts had already been made to effect an entrance there, but without success. Assuredly it was a late season. It was still impossible for vessels to reach St. Michaels or Teller, the latter being the starting-point for the new Bluestone and Kougarok districts; and the Nome dailies were issuing sensational extras with large head-lines telling that "Fifteen Hundred People" were "Starving at the Mouth of the Yukon"--at St. Michaels, one hundred and fifty miles away. Many of the neighboring creeks were yet filled with ice and snow, so as to allow only preliminary operations for mining, or none at all. The prospect was made more dismal by the stormy and cold rainy weather which then prevailed. The gale wrecked several small craft and caused the remaining steamers to put out to sea, and the thermometer ranged at about 40°. Fortunate indeed it was that these conditions did not exist the year before, when so many thousands of helpless, unprepared people were deposited upon those alluring shores. Now, however, the numerous prophets of evil preached the doctrine that last summer had been an exception, and that this sort of thing would continue throughout the open months, which, fortunately, it did not do.

At the new and well-appointed post-office I was much impressed and pleased to find a type-written letter from my partner, dated at Council City the middle of June, which told of his good health and settlement in our new quarters. This letter had been brought overland before the melting snow and ice made it unsafe or impossible to cross the intervening streams. Previous to this, my last letter from him, received at San Francisco just before sailing, bore date of February 13.

Nome seemed very orderly, much improved, and more substantial in general appearance. It had been duly incorporated as a city. About a mile of the principal streets had been boarded over (a great improvement), though at that time, in front of our hotel, the horses sank belly-deep in muck and mud as of yore. The banner sign, "City Morgue," had now assumed more modest proportions; people who had wintered at Nome looked strong and well; and the doctors somewhat plaintively said that the camp had been "disgustingly healthy." The majority of the deaths were those of too venturesome, or poorly equipped, travelers or prospectors who had perished from cold. But the average individual who had spent the winter there had lived very comfortably, with plenty of good things to eat and drink, and I was informed that the place had been very gay "socially." Some were in fine feather, others hopeful, and but few discouraged.

One of the characters then at Nome, known and unmistakable from the Klondike down, was "Mother" Woods, in her sunbonnet, abbreviated skirts, and "mukluks" or native sealskin boots. A woman of middle age, she had participated in almost every gold stampede, enduring as much as a man; and she swore like a trooper. But in the winter she had nursed and cared for the sick and frozen with the greatest tenderness, it was said; in recognition of which a voluntary contribution had been made to enable her to appeal a case which in the court below had gone contrary to her mining interests. I had, of course, heard of "Scotch verdicts"; but during the winter months the Nome public had coined an expression new to me in referring to the "Scotch whisky decisions"; and, without regard to the possible ancestry of the learned court, it was a lamentable fact that its Scotch had been potent in making a rye business of justice.

W---- was heading for Solomon River,--about thirty miles distant on the coast east of Nome,--and, believing that he had a good opportunity to reach it with some friends on the _Ruth_, a steam-schooner, he gladly pulled out from Nome on the 27th of June, while we wished him the wealth of "King Solomon's mines."

The days passed by; the inhospitable weather continued; and still there was no certainty of getting into Golovin Bay to travel up the streams to Council City. It was becoming a rather serious matter, and it would have been natural for my partner to suppose that I either had been prevented from coming altogether or had been indefinitely delayed by some mishap. I had seen all the people I cared to see, was heartily sick of the town, and the Gold Hill Hotel, thinly partitioned and put up on the cardboard plan, was not running a very effective heating-plant.

One day there shuffled uninvited into the room, a trifle in his cups, a miserable-looking individual who announced that he was "Uncle Billy" and that everybody knew him, and then proceeded to jabber his tale of woe. He didn't explain how or why it had happened, but merely whimpered that he had been "shot to pieces" during the winter. By way of illustration, and to prove this statement, after pointing to one useless arm he went down into his pocket, and pulling out a "poke" (miner's pocket-book), emptied from it a large-sized bullet and a considerable piece of bone, adding, with attempted humor, that it wasn't everybody who carried his bones about with him in that way. It seemed that he was being made to do menial work in the kitchen, whereas he was really a millionaire, to substantiate which this delightful person again resorted to his wardrobe and drew forth a number of crumpled and dirty mining papers. Appearing on the scene soon after I had finished reading in "The Crisis" of "Uncle Billy" (General Sherman), this pitiful result of one battle made an impression by contrast.

The popular saloons and gambling-houses were crowded, but the stakes were low (for mining operations had not yet begun, and "dust" was not coming into camp), and probably half of the attendance was due to the warmth of these places. All the games were going--roulette, vingt-et-un, faro, poker, stud-poker, Klondike, and craps. There was usually a platform in the rear supporting a piano and a phonograph, and serving as a stage from which sirens would torture the popular ballads, whose agony penetrated the street.

I should have enjoyed attending the sessions of the court, but the judge and court staff were then on the high seas, going to hold a short term at St. Michaels, pursuant to law. In a more or less desperate attempt to fill in the tedious waiting-time, A---- and I one evening sought amusement at the "Standard Theater." The entertainment was not calculated to delight delicate sensibilities.

The glorious Fourth was appropriately celebrated by ample decoration with the flag throughout the town and a very creditable parade, which, headed by a company of sturdy regulars from the neighboring military post, was followed by an A1 fire-engine drawn by fine horses, three uniformed hose companies, and a score of lively little school-children. Such are the enterprise and conquering spirit of our people!

VII

UP THE STREAMS--AN EVENING AT JOHNSON'S CAMP

By this time it was certain that Golovin Bay was open. The Klondikers and Yukoners, a sturdy lot of earnest men and not looking a bit starved, were pouring into town from St. Michaels, and the report came that ships at the northwest were unloading at Teller and Grantley Harbor. Nothing loath, I got away from Nome in the evening of July 5 on the small steamer _Elmore_, which I did not remember with especial relish. The floor accommodations had meantime been supplanted by bunks, and the trip to Golovin Bay, which we reached the following afternoon, was not half bad. Just before anchoring, we came alongside of the _Ruth_, which lay there absolutely helpless, her steering-gear smashed beyond redemption. Much surprised to see W---- on the derelict, I reached over and shook his hand, and then heard his little tale of woe. When he had left Nome, nine days before, it was too rough to land freight at Solomon River, and, having a number of passengers and considerable freight aboard for Golovin Bay, the _Ruth_ had proceeded thither, only to run into the ice, smash her rudder, and be almost capsized by the powerful outgoing floes while held tight in the ice. Nearly the entire crew had promptly deserted, and only the captain, a sulky engineer, and a few enforcedly faithful passengers remained. (One of the numerous little hard-luck stories of life in the Arctic "gold-fields.")

It was fortunate to find at Chenik the _North Star_, a small stern-wheeler river boat, with whose captain a number of us quickly made satisfactory arrangements for immediate transportation to White Mountain, the half-way point to Council City. She soon, duck-like, flopped over to the side of the _Elmore_; our freight was rustled into her with all despatch; and, at eight o'clock in the evening, pretty well laden with passengers and their effects, this gem of the ocean, under the peculiar care of a crazy old Swede and his motley crew of three, was puffing and breathing hard and pushing her clumsy way across the bay toward the hidden delta of the Fish River. It was a matter of lying about the primitive machinery, by the boilers and wood fuel, to keep warm, and listening to a not too delightful crowd of alleged miners swapping lies about the country. Sleep, of course, was out of the question; a place to stretch out was not available except in the adjacent bunks of the crew, and on inspection of these I decided that I would rather not. It would not have seemed at all natural, or homelike, had we not proceeded, about midnight, to run into fog and upon the mud-flats. Only two and a half feet of water were requisite to allow the vessel to navigate, but in order to get that depth it was necessary to keep strictly in a zig-zag "channel," regarding whose location our navigator was not precisely expert. While we lingered upon the mucky bottom, a section of the crew, provided with a pole and a boat, under the orders of the captain (expressed forcibly and picturesquely,--not to say profanely,--_à la Suède_), would complete circles ahead and about the _North Star_, shouting back, "One foot," "Two," "Two and a half," "Three," according as they sounded the depths. But we did finally, somehow, get into the Fish River; and, after needlessly butting the banks several times and smashing the tender, our little steamboat the following afternoon rested on the shore at White Mountain, and another transfer of freight promptly ensued. How unpleasantly familiar one's boxes and bags become by the time they have reached their final destination! White Mountain showed plainly enough, in its wholly demolished structures and twisted log cabins, the sweeping force of the ice-jam and flood which had rushed down upon it, about the middle of June, on the breaking up of the streams. Almost providentially, it seemed, a saloon remained serenely intact in the very center of the havoc.

So far so good, but the only way to travel in this country is, if possible, to shove right through somehow, and recuperate when the ultimate goal has been gained. Together with two others who were making the trip to Council, I made terms with "Ed" Trundy, a freighter, to carry my ton and a half of stuff the remaining twenty-five or thirty miles for three cents a pound. His equipment for transportation consisted of a long, shallow, forty-five-foot boat, two river poles, an assistant, "Louis," five dogs, and a swearing vocabulary which was universally recognized as being the most replete, ornate, and frequently employed in that section of the country--which is saying a great deal and paying a very high compliment to Mr. Trundy. But, then, that robust gentleman had enjoyed and profited by many advantages of training and environment not shared by his less fortunate competitors. Born in the backwoods of Maine, he had been a lumberman, had shipped before the mast as seaman, driven a hack in Boston and a street-car in New York, had freighted on the Yukon, and it is possible that he may have driven a mule-team in Texas. "Ed" steered the craft, and, when the going was good, those dogs, under the special charge of Louis, pulled the entire load of three tons up the swollen streams just about as fast as the rest of us cared to walk. We rode when the dogs rode, that is, when it was necessary to pole over a slough or cross the stream. The recent freshets and still melting snow in the hills and mountains beyond made shallow rivers of the streams,--in places, however, deep,--and thus, to a large extent, obviated the heartbreaking and back-breaking experiences of the preceding year.

The plan of travel was to proceed only a few miles that evening to a temporary encampment where Trundy had arranged to pick up some additional freight, and where we should spend the night, making an early start in the morning. Arrived there, I imposed upon the good nature of some agreeable fellows, lugging my blankets into their tent and spending the night with them, packed like sardines. We made an early start in the forbidding morning, our number being increased to nine, and not a very choice company either. It was soon apparent that the expedition included two parties who claimed the same mining property, toward which they were heading with all despatch, and that there was bad blood between them. Suspicious looks and whispered conversations were corroborative evidence.

At two o'clock we arrived at Craft's Road-House, near the mouth of the Neukluk River, where a halt was made for dinner. This was a good-sized log cabin, with scrupulously neat interior, kept by Mr. and Mrs. Craft, but the Mrs. was the presiding genius. Photographs of their restaurants at Chicago and Dawson, and of family and friends, stiffly yet fondly grouped, adorned the walls. And what a good dinner they gave us--a perfect gorge for one dollar, and cheap at five times the price! Louis was taken ill here with cramps in his arms and legs, due to overwork and wetting, but only after much persuasion consented to take off his boots and lie down on the reindeer-skins by the stove. While he was recuperating, the good-natured and loquacious hostess, seated behind (and with elbows upon) the bar, entertained us; for Mrs. Craft, as the name implies, knows her business and enjoys the reputation of being a "fine talker." Her entertainment for this occasion was a somewhat broad and general discussion of the marital obligations which should exist between "squaw-men" and their Eskimo (truly enough) better halves, citing her observations of the Eskimo code of ethics and certain instances where the informality of existing relations had been made conventional by voluntary appearance before a United States commissioner and a performance of the proper ceremonies by that officer.

Louis gamely enough responded, and soon the expedition, in rain-and-wet-proof armor of slickers and hip rubber boots, set out to gain that night Johnson's Camp, a couple of vacant cabins on the Neukluk, free to all transients. High up on the banks, extending frequently back upon the flats, the willows and brush, and sometimes the small spruce timber, lay bent and crushed to the surface, shredded and skinned, almost machine-like, by the ice-jam which, not long before, had roared and swept down the streams to the bay. Old landmarks in a new country continually presented themselves, recalling vividly the experiences of the summer before and the companions who had shared them in the "mush" up the rivers to Council--"rivers" then by courtesy only.

The origin and derivation of the word "mush" have been given heretofore, but will bear further reference. It is perhaps the most frequently used word in northwestern Alaska, being universally employed for "walk," "tramp," "travel," etc.; and in view of the generally prevailing conditions of snow, rain, muck, mud, and moss, the student of philology may find in this expressive word a rare and precious instance of onomatopoeia. This little digression in the narrative has not been made chiefly for the purpose of exhibiting familiarity with Greek, but rather as an introduction for modestly recording a compliment which is treasured by the narrator. Perhaps it wasn't known that I had been through that sort of thing before, only more so, and perhaps, being built on a fairly long and economical plan, I had a peculiar advantage in that kind of travel, but, at any rate, I felt that I had received a very high compliment, delicately expressed, when an old-timer in the party, with unnecessary calls on the Almighty, told me that I was a "musher from hell."

At nine o'clock at night we climbed the steep, slippery, slimy bank to the two cabins which constituted Johnson's Camp, to find the one apparently inhabitable cabin already occupied by four as tough-looking specimens of humanity as ever came down the Yukon. But that didn't make any difference, except that they had a first lien on the soft spots of the floor to the extent of four times six feet by two. They had a cheerful, warm fire cracking in the stove, the floor was dry, and the outlook for a good rest was excellent. But it was not thus to be. Thirteen in the cabin taxed its capacity. Another party who sought the same shelter, blocked at the entrance by a full house and a stony stare, departed. The cooking began to mess things, and the carelessness and profuseness of the gentlemen's expectoration,--gently but diabolically aggravated by the now general leakage through a sieve-like roof,--eliminated from my mind any intention which I may have had of placing my blankets and myself upon the floor. In fact, it was difficult to locate one's self, sitting or standing, so as to avoid a trickle of water down the neck. Here was a good time for a bottle of whisky to get in its work, and Louis needed a stiff drink, for he was pretty ill. So, round it went throughout the choice circle, and back it came to me, empty enough.

Three of us decided to sit out the night about the fire; the rest in grotesque fashion lay stretched upon the floor. As a David Harum sort of miner once said to me, "The more you see of a certain class of people, the better you love a dog"; and about that time I felt very kindly disposed toward the unjustly-rated lower animals. It was generally agreed, before the turning in began, to make a four-o'clock start in the morning, and about the only thing which the three of us who sat together had in common was the intention that such a start should be made. As we poked and added to the fire, and dodged the drip, the would-be sleepers showed their disapproval of the noise and heat by moving and muttering, and the semiconscious, but unrivaled, Trundy rounded out a series of epithets which left no doubt as to his exact sentiments. One of the figures raised itself and basted the head of a snoring Yukoner. Louis, in his dreamy wanderings, with unnecessary vigor, but through force of habit, attacked the poor dogs by references to their maternal ancestry. One of the two who kept me company, whom I despised more than the other, of wizened physique and a mean eye, fearful lest his goods might spoil, occasionally migrated out into the early morning light and wet; and, slipping and sliding down the mucky incline, mushed over to the boat, lifted the canvas, and investigated the quantity of water in the craft. Then, perhaps having bailed a little, he would climb back again to enjoy the hospitality of the cabin and to intimate that he was doing my work as well as his own. Having seen his supplies go into the boat first, and on the bottom, I could remark that I would take the chances of having my goods damaged. The best we could do was to rouse the reluctant crowd at five o'clock, and, after a delectable breakfast, served as you snatched it, get under way shortly after six to complete the remaining six or seven miles to Council City. It had not been a pleasant evening. Perhaps the night spent on the _Elmore_, the year before, was, on the whole, a more disagreeable experience; but, nevertheless, the writer believes it would require a combination of the genius of Poe and Kipling to paint a fitting word-picture of that sojourn at Johnson's Camp, on the Neukluk.

The stream was now very high from the rain which had just ceased. The freighters had their hardest work ahead of them; for the sloughs became more frequent, the water extended well up to the brush and spruce, and until we reached a point a few miles below Council there was but little footing for the dogs. The rest of us, leaving the meanderings of the river, struck out overland as straight as possible for Council. I caught some of them eying me like a hawk, and knew that they suspected that I had a retainer from the gentlemen with whom I had so agreeably passed the night. Having made a wide detour inland through mossy swamp and brush, we came to Mystery Creek, which was adorned in places with deep banks of solid snow and glaciers. This crossed, and having gained the open, that weird, familiar landscape presented itself--the bleak hills back of Council, rising to the dignity of mountains, fringed at the base with a growth of small timber, and approached by a plain of tundra. As Sam Dunham, in one of his matchless Alaskan poems, with fine alliteration says:

"We traversed the toe-twisting tundra, Where reindeer root round for their feed";

and if there is any contrivance of mother earth's which is calculated to sap man's remaining energy, it is this plodding over the Russian moss, avoiding the stagnant pools upon its surface, and stepping and reaching from hassock to hassock,

Sometimes as soggy as sawdust, More frequently soft as a sponge.

[Mr. Dunham will, I trust, pardon this imitation of his "alliteration's artful aid."]

Inspired, perhaps, by the nearness of the goal, and possibly by a desire to show them I could do it, I then proceeded to cut loose from the "hardy miners"; and, not long afterward, in the cool and sunny forenoon, stood high on the brow of the precipitous palisades leading into Council, which looked very attractive in what it promised and in its own strangely picturesque surroundings. Then followed a hurried descent to Melsing Creek, a fording of that little tributary, and, now in town, a search for the edifice which should bear the firm insignia. There it was, my name staring me in the face! Hastily mounting the three steps, if you please, which led to the front entrance of the new log cabin, I pounded the door, heard a familiar "Come in," and burst in upon my partner, looking as fine as a fiddle and in the very act of laying down the law to an unsuspecting client. Thus then, at last, after not a few vicissitudes, some seven thousand miles had been traversed and the _au revoir_ of the year before realized in the present. It had been, of course, an easier undertaking than before, and at no time lacking in interest; but the writer believes that, as regards the trip from Golovin Bay to Council City, the physical labor of the previous year was preferable to the lack of companionship in its successor.

VIII

THE COUNCIL CITY MINING DISTRICT--JOE RIPLEY AND OTHERS

Our quarters consisted of an excellent twenty-by-sixteen cabin, made of whip-sawed spruce timber, the round log side of course being outside. Half of it, partitioned off, was devoted to our office--a very complete one, I may say, for Alaska. The other half, its wainscoting adorned with pans, pots, saws, hammers, and the like, and its shelves and box-cupboards holding various cooking and eating paraphernalia, answered the purposes of kitchen and dining-room combined. A platform four feet wide, and stretching across in the middle from wall to wall, formed the base of an isosceles triangle with the peak of the roof, and thereby made a loft or cache, convenient for storing provisions, etc. But, for the life of me, I could discover no provisions for storing ourselves at night. Immediately in the rear of the cabin was a tent, but that was filled with miscellaneous stuff, and evidently was not intended for sleeping purposes. At last the mystery was solved in looking behind an apparently unnecessary hanging of drill tapestry which covered my side of the partition, and discovering, neatly folded and caught up against the concealed wall, an excellent home-made bed or bunk, whose only springs, however, were the hinges from which it swung. Three fine, friendly dogs, now enjoying their summer vacation, loafed about the back door, near a sled upon which rested three old gold-pans from which they fed. The cabin was but a little distance back of our old camping-place, the marks of which were still very evident, and it commanded a fine view of the tortuous river and the landscape beyond. The appearance of the camp had improved,--many new cabins and several more stores had sprung up,--but I could obtain no concrete explanation from my partner, its president or mayor, why, during my absence, the city's main thoroughfare had not been asphalted. My letters from the "outside" telling of the time of my departure, and those intrusted at Nome to pretended overland travelers, all came some time after my arrival, but I was, nevertheless, expected to appear upon the scene any day in early July.

In very short order I was again in the traces of Alaskan harness and developing with my partner a certain team-work in our household duties as well as in legal and mining matters. We were truly "hewers of wood and drawers of water," and we enjoyed excellent health, although we did our own cooking. Perhaps our best parlor trick was what we were pleased to term "the poetry of motion." This took place after the mahogany had been cleared for action, when one of us, presiding over a pan of hot water, fished out from under the soapy suds some utensil and passed it along to the other, who, accepting gracefully, gave it a polish in transit and flourished it onward to its allotted place. Toward the end of the season a neighborly little woman, the New England wife of a miner from Maine, brought us some pastry which delightfully suggested the land of the Puritans. She sympathetically remarked that she would have performed many similar acts had she known we were doing our own cooking. I must admit that we _bought_ our bread. Before I left Council we were guests at a dinner-party given by this hospitable neighbor, and rarely have I enjoyed a meal more. The home was most comfortable and roomy, and we ate from pretty china which this little housewife had brought all the way from New England. This goes to show that people can now live comfortably and well in that remote country, if they only will.

The winter of course had been very long and tedious, and, in many ways, a most trying one; but it was surprising to learn how lightly clad one can safely and comfortably move about with the thermometer ranging from 30° to 60° below zero. This is due to the dryness of the cold. For instance, at 30° below, and with no outer garments other than flannel shirt and overalls, one would perspire freely in chopping wood. With hands and feet warmly protected, and winter underwear and wind-proof outer clothes (drill coat and ordinary overalls), _and exercise_, one can comfortably weather a degree of cold which, in lower latitudes, would immediately transform him to an icicle. The snow had averaged on the level places about five feet in depth, but was very deep where it had drifted and been banked by the wind, making it a common thing to have to dig one's self out, or for a party to lend assistance in bringing to the light, if any there was, snow-buried men and women. The shortest day had given three and a half hours of dusky light; the coldest had forced the thermometer down to 60° below zero, where kerosene had frozen. Horses had to be killed on account of the absence of fodder; and, after having been left out a short time to freeze, one would chop them up with an ax for dog-food, the chips flying as if they were timber. Frequent salutations on the trail were such as, "Say, old man, your nose is frozen," which might bring forth the rejoinder, "So is yours"; whereupon both would rub snow upon the senseless point, and proceed onward. It was the continual wind, sometimes impossible to withstand, which worked the greatest hardship and fiendishly got upon the nerves. Old Tom Welch, whom I well remembered, and his partner, while trying to prospect in the snow, had been frozen to death; and there had been some talk of lynching the individual who had undertaken to supply them with provisions, upon whose failure to do so the two unfortunates had essayed to return to Council in a storm which had cost them their lives. Some others had met a like unnecessary fate. The natives and oldest white inhabitants unanimously agreed that it had been the most severe winter known; and it was an attested fact that many creeks in that region remained throughout the following summer hopeless ice and presented to the expectant miner a frozen face.

The freighters came in at midnight the day of my arrival; and by the noon following my twenty-odd pieces of freight and baggage, intact, were properly stored and distributed in and about our abode--a very great satisfaction indeed. Those fellows earned their three cents a pound all right. A little later in the season two very small and very light-draft stern-wheelers, referred to as "coal-oil Johnnies," plied intermittently between White Mountain and Council, as the condition of the streams allowed; but the usual and best-adapted means of transportation were long, shallow scows which a horse pulled up-stream freighted, and rode down upon empty.

This section of the country was now the Council City Precinct and Recording District, a subdivision of the Second Judicial Division, as designated by the Alaskan code. A United States commissioner, with liberal jurisdiction and a marshal at his back, supplanted our military tribunal and the mining recorder of the last year. With the exceptions that his jurisdiction in civil matters is limited to a certain amount, that he can neither grant an injunction nor try title to real estate, his powers, judicial and otherwise, are plenary and varied. For instance, in addition to his civil and extensive criminal jurisdiction, the commissioner is _ex officio_ probate judge, coroner, notary public, mining recorder, and tier of matrimonial knots. In the latter capacity he is not overburdened with work, and having once tied, he has no authority to unloose. There is a section of the criminal code which in mining matters worked very salutary results. Under it an action of "criminal trespass" can be brought in the commissioner's court, in which the court may consider the record title, and, in proper cases, oust irresponsible "jumpers" or legal blackmailers, who may then, if they wish, in a legal way, seek a remedy in the District Court at Nome. We proceeded on several occasions under this section. If the defendant was found guilty, he was ejected from the premises by the marshal, and either paid his fine and costs or languished awhile in an unupholstered "jug." Although, naturally enough, he was in the country to better himself from the ground, and not primarily from his fees, our genial commissioner presided over his court with dignity, fairness, and ability. I always made it a point to wear a necktie in appearing before his Honor. After a trial he might drop into our cabin; and, over a cigar and a little Scotch whisky, we would suggest wherein, in our opinion, he had erred in his rulings or decisions, to which presumptuous insinuations he would either good-naturedly assent or demur.

There was a lot doing. The District Court, though not appointing receivers, was grinding out injunctions, or temporary restraining orders, which, frequently conveyed by some legal luminary, came drifting over from Nome, and, in consequence, some poor devil or arrant rascal was thrown out of his job and summoned to appear at the metropolis. There was a pause, however, about the middle of August, when Judge Noyes pulled up stakes and sailed for the "outside" to prepare himself for his October ordeal before the Court of Appeals.

Not long after my arrival, a good fellow named Joe Brennan, while bringing his horses and freight up the rivers, was drowned some ten miles below Council. It was believed that he was swimming a horse, and that when the animal climbed the bank, Brennan fell off and, his boots filling, drowned. When the body was recovered, a few days later, it was brought to Council, a coroner's inquest held, and then decently buried. Northwestern Alaska furnishes excellent graveyards, rivaling the art of ancient Egypt. Its ground will preserve a man forever, but it is a long way for his friends and relatives to come to see him. A small amount of currency was found on Brennan; a poke of dust with which he was to execute certain commissions was identified and returned to its owner; but a considerable sum of money of his own, with which he was known to have left Nome, was missing. Doubtless the body had been robbed. But there are lots of good men in Alaska, although in the Nome country they seem to be pretty well scattered. Brennan's two partners, who came to consult us about the estate of the deceased, were such men--manly fellows who wanted to have "poor Joe's" property rights preserved. One of them came from Washington, my native city, with whom I could chat about familiar landmarks; the other, who looked the athlete, had held the New England championship for the high jump, and had trained for that event several college men of my acquaintance. It is a well-worn phrase, but the world _is_ very small. The Washingtonian was duly appointed special administrator, and soon realized funds on a sale of the horses, feed, provisions, etc., which were well within the legal definition of "perishable property."

Enjoying the proud distinction of being notaries public for Alaska, and being therefore quasi-judicial officers, we were frequently called upon to take acknowledgments, affidavits, and depositions. I am not likely to forget the work of taking an affidavit from one Joe Ripley. It was of immediate importance in litigation at Nome, and Ripley, a squaw-man, who lived with his Eskimo wife and children a number of miles down the stream, had been specially engaged to come up and make affidavit to certain matters with which he alone was familiar. As luck would have it, my partner, who was acquainted with Ripley, had been called away to euphonious Puckmummy Creek (Eskimo, "quick"), and it devolved upon me to take the affidavit. Ripley and whisky, I was informed, were always associated together,--were almost synonymous terms,--and whenever "Joe" struck town it was a gala day for the saloons. In abnormal condition, Mr. Ripley was a mild-mannered, polite, well-educated son of old England. But my hopes that he might appear in the latter condition were blasted when, in response to a shuffling and a bang at the door, I welcomed in a small man with white mustache, wearing the native coat or "parkie," and gloriously, triumphantly _full_! There was no doubt that this was Ripley--recipient of the Victoria cross for gallantry in India, sailor, miner, squaw-man, and devotee of the bottle. "Where's Castle?" was his opening remark, of course not knowing me from Adam; and, as I explained my presence, I racked my brain for delicate, unoffending language which should suggest that he sleep "it" off and call again on the morrow. The suggestion of delay brought forth a flow of noble sentiments, delivered in heroic attitude, accompanied by gestures dramatic. Pointing down the river, he burst forth in glowing language on the subject of the devoted spouse whom he longed to see, somewhat inconsistently declaiming, however, that the lady was twice as big as he and usually shook the life out of him whenever he tacked home with several sheets in the wind. I eagerly seized upon this latter tribute to his charmer's charms as an argument for his remaining over, but realized that it was useless to argue when, with emphatic "No, no's", and a beating of his breast, he exclaimed: "Old Joe has a very small heart for white people, but" (stretching forth his arms in yearning affection toward the beloved) "his heart goes out to _her_ like a bullock's." This was all very romantic and entertaining, but that affidavit had to be obtained, and Captain John Smith, somehow, had to be prevented from escaping to his Pocahontas. Excusing myself with the explanation that I would consult my client in the matter, I went on a still hunt for the man who might manage Ripley, and the latter, navigating his way toward the nearest saloon, went on a hunt for the still. I found my man, explained the situation, and instructed him, if impossible to detain Ripley, to steer him back to the office, where we should proceed with the ceremonies. Captain John having previously, when sober, told our client the facts to which he could swear, I purposed having these facts act as a check to a too willing or imaginative affiant. Shortly afterward, I heard the two men coming, cleared the deck for action, and braced myself for a delectable situation. It was a story of a "snow" location of mining property. The law requires that a certain fixed amount of work or expenditure shall be done or made annually upon every mining location for purposes of benefiting and developing the claim, and further provides that upon failure to do such "assessment work" the ground shall become open and relocatable on the 1st of January following. Hence many individuals single out what they believe to be valuable property, and acutely investigate the validity of its holder's title, nosing about the ground or searching through the records to ascertain, first, whether the work has been done; second, whether an affidavit of labor has been recorded; and, third, if the facts render such an affidavit of no effect (save only as _prima facie_ evidence) and subject the affiant to a charge of perjury.

The legal requirements had not been fulfilled regarding the property in question; and on December 31, 1899, Ripley and Welch (before mentioned) set out from Council, over the snow, for Crooked Creek, fifteen miles away. Before starting, they took the precaution to set their watches by the recorder's chronometer, for timepieces are very contradictory in Alaska, and it frequently happens that a number of relocators assemble at the same spot, watches in hand, near midnight of a December 31, prepared to drive down their stakes at the first moment of the new year, and of course it becomes a nice question of evidence as to who has the right time. The case in point certainly had not been lacking in dramatic incident. Welch and Ripley found others on the ground for whom no love was lost. It was not a trysting-place. Some underhand work was done, and Ripley, so he said, restrained old Tom from putting a bullet into a certain miscreant. But it was hard work to confine the enthusiastic Ripley to the material matters, and I had frequently to nail him down and shut him up until I wrote out a portion of the statement desired. He was acting it through, walking up and down, gesticulating, and, occasionally, falling into the native dialect. His favorite mode of brushing aside a suggestion--treating it as immaterial--was to exclaim: "That's all right, but it don't buy whisky"; and now and then he would suddenly turn upon the third man with the question, "Ain't she pretty?"--referring to his Pocahontas. Now, of all the hideously ugly creatures rated as human beings, the full-blooded Eskimo woman is easily the prize-winner, and Mrs. Ripley, besides, was notoriously unattractive even in her own class. It was, therefore, a very embarrassing question. My sense of professional dignity was continually outraged, but, in the end, I got a satisfactory affidavit, though it required nearly four hours to round it up. _In vino veritas._ Exit Ripley.

A word as to the natives of northwestern Alaska. I presume they as nearly approach living in a state of nature as any beings on the face of the earth. Of undoubted Mongolian origin, their ancestors drifted over from Siberia to an equally hard country where the sole occupation of their descendants is a hand-to-mouth struggle for existence, in obtaining for daily subsistence the scant provender which nature supplies ready-made. It is a matter simply of catching fish in their nets during the summer, and in winter trapping the ptarmigan or wild grouse and hunting the walrus and the seal. Their boats, or "kyaks," made from walrus-hide and repaired with ivory, are very ingeniously contrived and cleverly managed. They are naturally a very peaceful people, except when, in violation of the law, the white man sells them whisky. They are godless and have no religion whatever, nor any form of worship, nor any imagery, nor any idea of a happy hunting-ground hereafter. They bury their dead in airy wooden biers several feet above the ground, together with pots and pans, food, guns and ammunition, their theory being that the deceased has lain down for a long sleep. Perhaps he may wake up sometime, and then he will need the means to procure and prepare food; and from his position he can see his family and friends when they come by, and note their prosperity as represented by the number of children and dogs. As a race, they are few and scattered, without attempt to live in tribal relation. The epidemics among them in 1900 of pneumonia and measles carried away perhaps half their number, and it is safe to predict that within a short period this hapless race will become extinct.

Later in July there came a welcome spell of hot weather, which melted the remaining snow upon the slopes and helped matters generally, giving one an opportunity, among other things, to sun his blankets. It not only did great work in thawing the ground, but it magnificently and quite unnecessarily thawed out the mosquitos. The latter, however, though bothersome at times and in places, were not very annoying. This hot wave, which practically prevented traveling during the middle of the day, gave way to cooler, overcast weather, which now and then furnished a series of rainy, disagreeable days, broken, perhaps, by one or two hopefully clear and beautiful. It is the most fickle climate in the world, and will frequently, within a few hours, fancifully exhibit all its contrary elements of rain and sunshine, wind and chill. But, rain or shine, day and night, mining operations progress, and the fine treasure in the earth is laboriously brought to light.

It frequently became necessary for one of us to journey through the now more sparse timber, up the slaty, moss-covered, mountainous "divide," and over to the claims on the fast-becoming-famous Ophir Creek. In the absence of rain, and with the encouragement of the wind or a little sunshine, the ground, up to a certain point, dries remarkably soon, and furnishes fairly good footing. If the day be pleasant, the cheerful chirp of the inevitable song-sparrow and the song of the wild canary are heard; a thrush or robin, surprised and alarmed, starts from the brush; swallows and snow-white gulls from the sea circle over and about the streams; and odd, unfamiliar little birds hop about in the willows. How they get there, the Lord only knows. Beautiful--the daintiest--wild flowers in great variety also do their part to make a desolate country lovely. Truly, it is a wonderful land of contradictions. Looking down from the "divide" to the basin below, Ophir Creek, almost a river, is now dotted with permanent camps along its lengthy, sinuous course; the little log-cabin settlements, whose lumber has been brought there at great labor and expense, representing the larger operators or the companies.

Of course, Frank Shaw was still in charge of the Wild Goose Company's interests on claim No. 15 Ophir; and he had under him about a hundred good men, opening up the claim, shoveling the pay dirt into five strings of sluice-boxes, and some of them, teamsters, carpenters, etc., daily bringing supplies from Council over the primitive roads, or doing other necessary work about the camp. A very remarkable young man is Shaw, and a very fine fellow. Born and bred, so to speak, in the mines of California and Arizona, and having a genius for the work, he was naturally a "born miner," and, though only twenty-three years of age, was generally acknowledged to be the best in the Council City country. In a comparatively recent explosion in a quartz-mine, Shaw had been almost blown to pieces; and although he still carried in his face and body bits of the rock, and could see only through powerful glasses, he was, nevertheless, noted for his energetic zeal and indefatigable labor. The qualities which go to make a good miner are, perhaps, generally underestimated. He must, primarily, be a man of intelligence. He must have the eye of an engineer for turning a creek, constructing ditches, building dams, and meeting the exigencies of the situation. He must know formation,--understand geology,--in order to locate the pay streak and operate it successfully. And he must know how to manage men. These qualities Shaw combined. For instance: The labor is divided into two ten-hour shifts, the day shift and the night shift, and not infrequently hardy men either have not the physique to endure the exhausting labor of pick and shovel or they "soldier" in their work. Men discharged for either of these reasons usually came to Shaw and, shaking his hand, acknowledged the corn, and asked him to look them up if he ever came to Montana, or wherever they lived.

I noted some familiar faces in the pits, among them those of the lusty men on the _St. Paul_ with the uncongenial room-mate. On the steamer they had shown me with pride a skiff-shaped boat which they had had built in San Francisco especially for the Fish and Neukluk rivers; and I didn't then have the heart to tell them that they could not have obtained a boat more ill adapted to their purposes. They arrived at Council worn out, disgusted, and with only half the load with which they had started. And, having been told that their claim, ten miles above, was glaciered, without further ado or any idea of investigating it themselves, they sold out their remaining outfit, and went to work on "15" for wages. In this they showed much more stuff than the fellows who "lie down" immediately; and, having enough to get out on, go home and tell their friends that the country is a "fake." Many of these latter are the men who, on the way up, have fiercely declaimed to admiring audiences: "By God, sir, if I find any jumper on my claim, I've a six-shooter," etc. One of these brave boys, whom the ladies of the _St. Paul_ had greatly admired, _did_ find an interloper diligently working his Ophir Creek claim, whereupon he proceeded to auction off his plant and sneak out of town without so much as making me a social call.

They were cleaning up one string of sluice-boxes the first time I went to "15"; the water-gate in the ditch, into which a portion of the creek had been diverted, allowed only a gentle stream to flow through the huge boa-constrictor hose into the boxes and down over the riffles where the bronze-colored gold shone forth distinctly. The work of the day shift had ceased; the men were at dinner; and Shaw and one of the shift bosses were carefully sweeping the result of a day's "run" into a gold-pan. This finished, I accompanied him and his burden to the little cabin which he and the bookkeeper occupied; and there found Billy West, looking sturdier after his winter sojourn in Alaska, and engaged in "blowing out" a pan of gold-dust--that is, eliminating the fine black sand. In reply to my query, he said that they tried to average five thousand dollars every twenty-four hours.

Old Jim, the excellent darky cook, gave me a cordial reception, which was even more effusive when I gave him a cigar. He chuckled when I asked him if he missed Mr. Sunnyside, his assistant of last season. I think that the way Jim expressed his feelings toward Sunnyside is worth recording. Sunnyside was a big, strapping Californian who had come up on the _Lane_ the year before, by profession a lawyer, and doubtless regarded by the fond inhabitants of his native town as a future Daniel Webster. He aired a deep bass voice on the ship, and presented a very noble and manly figure as he held up his end of the quartet. As already observed, on the arrival of the fortune-hunters at Nome in 1900 there were no loose nuggets lying about waiting to be picked up, and, consequently, many of the confident newcomers were obliged to "come right down to hard-pan." And so it happened that Sunnyside abandoned the idea of practising law, and, later in the season, found himself assistant-general-utility man to old Jim at 15 Ophir. He soon developed into probably the most mournful, cheerless, pessimistic individual in the country, and gave vent to his feelings accordingly. The country was "God-forsaken" (as indeed it is); he suffered from several complaints on account of the miserable climate and the lack of a feather bed; and the days until his escape in the autumn seemed each one of a year's duration. One day, at dinner-time, when Sunnyside had sounded some dismal note, old Jim, good-naturedly enough, turned to him, and said: "Mr. Sunnyside, my feelings to'a'd you am very well expressed by the col'ed gen'leman who was divo'ced from his wife. Says he, 'Em'line, if I nebber see you again dat won't be any too _soon_.'" A roar of delighted appreciation went up from the double row of tables.

The roughing and hardships of the California forty-niners, who, bountifully supplied by nature on all sides, needed no cover at night other than the canopy of heaven, and who could work twelve months in the year, seem trifling compared with the conditions which the Alaska pioneers have confronted in a land disconsolately barren and inhospitable, that metes out a meager four-months season for their labor. To borrow again from Dunham, here were globe-travelers, men who had "panned from Peru to Point Barrow," now in August "cross-cutting a cussed cold creek," who would say, "There's no use telling the people at home about this country; they'd think you were lying." And so, in fact, it is a very difficult thing to undertake to do; for the reader or listener has really nothing relative to go by, and, of course, _atmosphere_ is essential to an adequate appreciation and understanding.

The ultimate yield of the "gold of Ophir" Creek will be enormous and astonishing, justifying its right to a name famous from ancient times. But, as is generally true of northwestern Alaska, the claims in order to pay well must be (and they will be) owned and worked by large companies, able to incur a considerable preliminary expense to mine them properly and on a large scale. Now and then the individual will find a rich spot from which he and his partners may realize a few thousand dollars; but the palmy days of the Nome beach and the Topkok diggings are seemingly over, and, as most of the miners say, it is not a "poor man's country." And yet, as regards its wealth, hardly the surface has been scratched. Dredging companies have been formed to operate the gravel bars and the gold deposits in the beds of the streams; and there is excellent reason for believing that fortunes will be made in this way. An excellent indication of the stability and extent of the Council City District is the fact that the common currency is gold-dust. Every store and office has its gold-scales, and one must, for his own protection, be skilled in manipulating the delicate balances. Although an ounce of "clean" gold will average at the assayer's from eighteen to nineteen dollars, sixteen dollars is, in Alaska, the accepted current value. With this, therefore, as a standard,--a pennyweight being eighty cents and a grain three and a third cents,--with accurate scales and proper weights, exchange is not a difficult matter.

Alaska has furnished a fertile field for unscrupulous schemers to enrich themselves at the expense of credulous investors. Hundreds of claims, which either did not exist or were not worth the paper upon which they were presented, have been sold to the gullible public, and corporations have been formed to make their stockholders quickly millionaires. Such a proposed donor of wealth was "The Polar Bear Mining Company," whose prospectus I had read and whose operations near Council were within my ken. This bonanza concern had a capital stock of one million shares, offered for sale at four cents a share, and its assets consisted of forty-seven wildcat claims upon which the prospectus dwelt at length in golden praise, declaring that "pay streaks" and "old channels" pervaded the entire bunch. "Alaska has made many millionaires--why not be one?" was the tenor of this masterpiece of seductive argument. After the season was well under way, the Polar Bear began to tear open the ground not far from Council; and soon afterward a party of some six or seven discouraged, disgusted, and disgruntled men trudged laboriously over the tundra, and camped near us, until they should learn from headquarters at Nome which other one of the forty-seven claims should similarly be drained of its treasure. But no word came, and there they remained abjectly despondent as the dreary days dragged by. One evening my partner and I strolled over to where they were gathered in dismal silence about a small fire, engaged in brushing away the mosquitos, and looking generally miserable. They appeared to be farmers masquerading as miners. There had been defection in the camp, due to a controversy as to who was the "captain," and in consequence the circle was depleted. Speaking of this lamentable fact, one of them, who resembled a shoemaker out of employment, said apologetically (but he was proud of it): "Now, I don't want to seem to be stuck up or conceited, but _I'm_ the boss here--I'm the _secretary_ of the company." "How much did it cost you?" we queried. "Well," he said, "I didn't pay anything to be secretary, but I put twenty-one hundred dollars in the company." At this of course we roared, and soon had the outfit, despite their misery, laughing themselves while we recited choice bits from the glowing prospectus. Before departing, the "secretary" earnestly besought us not to tell anybody about his investment, and resignedly admitted that the laugh was on him.

Later, in August and during the first part of September, the nights were clear and bright and cold. A beautiful full moon, dominant in the brilliant starry heavens, almost made day of night, and added luster and weird charm to the picturesque meanderings of the river. The north star was viewed at closer range, and shone sparkling more nearly overhead. Icicles, as long as one's arm, formed in stalactite fashion, hung from the sluice-boxes in the small hours of the morning; but, nevertheless, aided by the light of lanterns, the work of mining went on as regularly as clockwork. The days were mild and sunny,--like October in New England,--and there was promise of a late working autumn, though the wild geese and sand-hill cranes with hoarse cry were flying southward.

One fine Sunday morning I said farewell to my friends at Council, several of whom requested me to think of them when I was "dining at the Waldorf"; and as my partner had decided again to winter it through and hold things down, I left behind me a courageous, cultured, and able gentleman, whose good judgment and varied mental attainments the community, appreciative as heretofore, would enjoy throughout the white silence.

IX

THE OPERETTA AT DEXTER'S--NOME CITY OF TO-DAY

Carried down the rivers to White Mountain with Tom Muckle, the freighter, the horse having a free ride and nibbling at the brush when the eddies drew the scow to the banks, I spent the night at that intermediate point; and, in the morning, in a "coal-oil Johnny," proceeded on my way to Golovin Bay. This last-named means of transportation was a very ridiculous affair, but was strictly a "get-there" contrivance. It was a narrow skiff, about twenty feet long, into which an antiquated gasolene-engine had been placed, which caused the little pair of patched-up paddle-wheels to beat the water with a great deal of vehemence and send the open skimming-dish over the water at a delightfully progressive rate of speed. The captain, engineer, and crew consisted of a grizzled anatomy bearing the densest growth of underbrush in the way of beard, whiskers, and general facial hirsuteness that the writer has ever gazed upon. It had the nose of a human being, which bore the signs of conflict with the elements, and brilliantly registered a long course of fiery internal applications. But he was a nice old fellow, who wanted to get back to his home in southeastern Alaska, and envied me my departure. Arrived at Chenik, I put up at Dexter's Hotel, a pretentious and comfortable structure recently erected by that pioneer of northwestern Alaska.

At dinner, doubtless in order to make me feel "at home," I was engaged in conversation by a stout female person rather pretentiously attired, who proved to be the housekeeper of the hotel. At least forty-five summers had added successive weight to her proportions, and the only delicate thing about her was her sensibility--and this I knew because, in effect, she told me so. It was so trying for a woman to be alone in Alaska, and how astonished her people at home would be to see what she had to put up with--one who had been reared, so to speak, in the lap of luxury. It made her homesick to hear that I was heading for New York, whose gay metropolitan life, I somehow felt I was to infer, she had enjoyed in days gone by. This engaging creature, in a softly modulated voice, quite impressively selected her words,--the longer the better,--and the fact that they were not always appropriate to the thought was absolutely immaterial so long as the sentences were rounded and sonorous. For instance, in speaking of the ability of the commissioner at Chenik, judging from her association with lawyers (and she had always known the very best), she hardly believed that he possessed a "judiciary" mind. In reply to her leads, I said that I had just come from Council, and that I was an attorney; but, in answer to her query whether I had made my "stake," with great discretion I forbore to boast of the fortune secreted about my person, remarking that in Alaska one employed his profession as an opening-wedge for mining interests, and that as yet my mines were in a state of development. This elicited the information that she felt similarly as to _her_ profession; and when I made bold to inquire what that profession might be, I was slightly staggered by the rejoinder, "The operetta." Now, if she had said _opera_, it wouldn't have been so bad, for one associates with the opera something grand, massive, and substantial; but she didn't fit in with "operetta" at all. It was a rude shock, later in the evening, when I saw "Little Casino" standing by the bar and drinking her whisky straight. Then I felt sure that the dear ones at home would have been sorrowfully, painfully astonished thus to see their little one, whom, perhaps, they fondly imagined softening and delighting with song and merriment the rugged natures of the rough miners.

It would have been asking too much of Alaskan weather to be allowed to journey on as far as Nome without some setback. This was soon apparent when a storm of wind and rain came up which held me at Chenik for three long and dismal days. It blew as it can blow only in Alaska. The wind literally drove nearly all the water out of the shallow bay, so that one morning the unusual sight of a beach and bar extending almost across to the other side presented itself. I very vividly recall one evening at that forlorn place, when the renowned Dexter himself and a crowd of satellites and bar-room loafers were gathered about the table playing a game of "freeze-out" poker. Business was slack, and the urbane bartender, whom the favored addressed as "Eddie," and who, arrayed in a pink-and-white sweater, was wont to flourish behind the bar, admiring himself in the glass and brushing his slick hair between drinks, was one of the select party. It was a terrible night outside. The men, now and then during a pause, would voluntarily remark, or interrogate one another, as to where they'd like to be,--in what city, restaurant, or theater,--or (one fellow in particular, and for my special benefit) would predict that the storm was likely to continue for a week or more. The howl of the wind, which the Malemute dogs tried to rival, suddenly found another competitor, which, dirge-like, a whooping sort of wail, accompanied by the moans and groans of a pedal organ in agony, was traced to the story above. It was the "operetta" in action--perhaps thinking of home. At any rate, she felt badly; and the crowd showed its sympathy by a raising of voices and yowling like the dogs outside, and wondering what she had eaten for dinner to cause such evidences of pain and suffering.

On the _Elmore_, which still had a monopoly of the traffic, I reached Nome at last, and repaired to the Golden Gate Hotel, which, razed to the ground by fire during the winter, had risen phoenix-like from the ashes, a credit in structure and appointment to almost any community. With its boarded streets, excellent water-supply, cold-storage plants, fire-engine department, long-distance telephones, railroad to the Anvil Creek mines, and projected electric-light system, Nome has indeed become a city. As a matter of fact, the social atmosphere of Nome now demands a white collar and a shoe-shine. Wonderful when one thinks of its geographical situation, almost in the Bering Strait, three thousand miles from any port of supply, scarcely one hundred and fifty from Siberia, in a cheerless, Arctic country, barren of everything save gold! When the telegraph line from the Klondike to St. Michaels is finished, the cable, which has already been laid, will carry it through the remaining one hundred and fifty miles, and Nome will then daily, in all seasons, be in touch with the outside world.

I met Captain Baldwin, a prominent and useful citizen, who was selecting characteristic photographs to put in an album, as a gift to President McKinley from the citizens of Nome. And this was on the day of the President's death. The terrible news of the assassination I did not learn until I reached Port Townsend, in Puget Sound, September 26, when the hollow shout of the news-vender, "McKinley dead and buried," considerably lessened the pleasure of home-coming. The mayor of Nome had recently made a trip to Canton in advocacy of the removal of Judge Noyes, and the President's questions as to how the people of the Nome region lived had suggested the appropriateness of the intended gift.

The mines near Nome had been and were "showing up" well. Old channels were being discovered, and it was generally admitted that more gold was in sight than ever before. There had recently been found on Anvil Creek the largest nugget which Alaska had yet produced. This was on exhibition; and I elbowed my way through the camera fiends to heft the boulder-like mass, which weighed ninety-seven ounces, or a little over eight pounds (troy), and was worth $1552. I have been informed that another nugget, slightly larger, was discovered in the same vicinity soon afterward. It is not improbable that, when the creeks shall have been worked out by the present methods of sluicing, quite as much additional wealth will be accumulated from the debris by hydraulic operations. The great richness of the country lies in the "benches,"--creek flats and hillsides,--and to operate them successfully great ditches are being constructed. For instance, on Ophir Creek the Wild Goose Company now has under way a ditch, paralleling the creek, twelve miles long and twelve feet wide, which eventually will extend twelve miles further, to the mouth of the stream. It was surprising to see a number of engines and plants of various kinds operating the beach, which gave the lie to the general belief that the sands had been wholly exhausted. Despite the severe handicap of a late spring, the mining season averaged well, and the output of the yellow metal probably equaled that of the year previous. The reports concerning the new Kougarok and Bluestone districts, which had been heralded as "wonders" and attracted thousands, of course proved to be exaggerated, and caused great disappointment, although they are known to contain a few rich creeks and may some day be worked on a large scale.

I ran across several of the "nobility" and also the "Divine Healer." The former appeared less chipper, and the latter looked less benign. Their large interests were centered in the mining districts aforesaid. The "Café de Paris," enlarged and refitted, would grace any metropolis. Its cuisine and service were excellent, and it was furnished with all the up-to-date conveniences and appurtenances, including, as heretofore, a count. Among the features of Nome are the licensed town-criers, who parade the main street from early morn till late at night, calling out and advertising with original variations the various restaurants, entertainments, and sailings of steamers, for which services they are very well paid. At this time there were two steamers in the roadstead, and tickets to Seattle were selling like hot cakes. The crier for one of these vessels--a young, clean-cut-looking fellow, evidently well educated, and possessed of a sense of humor and a splendid voice--was creating a good deal of amusement by his form of appeal. After extolling the magnificence and speed of the ship, with solemn mien and clear, resonant tenor voice he called out in the crowded thoroughfare: "Get your tickets back to mother and the old farm, you hungry, homesick placer-miners." This latter mode of address was of course highly flattering to the host of bar-room loafers.

The Cape Nome excitement has yielded an abundant harvest to the transportation companies; and, in the main, the treatment which they have accorded their passengers has been outrageous--in some instances even piratical. This I know not only from accounts of trustworthy persons, but also from my own observation. Vessels have been making the long and hazardous trip which should be condemned equally with their owners. Narrow escapes from complete disaster have not been infrequent, and persons who in good faith have bought first-class accommodations have gone aboard to find that they have been _second_ purchasers, and, in overcrowded ships, have been obliged to resort to the floor for sleep, and to bribery of the stewards for decent food. Many a chapter of horrors incredible could be detailed by unfortunate participants in the Nome travel. It was with astonishment and genuine regret that I read in a recent Nome paper of the suicide of my cabin-mate on the _St. Paul_, the pleasant Knight of the Green Table. Despondent, he had deliberately shot himself through the head. He was a general favorite, "square" in his "profession," and his untimely end was widely regretted.

X

THE END OF THE CONSPIRACY--A WORD FOR ALASKA

After having served only three months of his year's sentence, on the plea of ill health and through strong political influence, Alexander McKenzie had been pardoned by the President, and was again free to descend, if he chose, upon the mining fraternity of Cape Nome. But he showed excellent judgment in returning to his Dakota constituency. The Court of Appeals, in its opinion in the McKenzie contempt cases, had in effect declared that an outraged community had patiently endured injuries unparalleled in the history of American jurisprudence, and that the people were entitled to high praise for their abstinence from forcible resistance. Apropos of this, the then senior senator from South Dakota, in his defense in the Senate of McKenzie and Noyes, had engaged the attention of that body in a tirade against the honorable court. During the winter, people had been brooding over their grievances, and when spring came there was frequent mention of "necktie" parties and "shotgun" excursions, in a way that carried conviction of settled purposes. As a further inducement to Mr. McKenzie to seek other spheres of activity and usefulness, the Circuit Court of Appeals had made orders, and appointed an officer to serve them, requiring Judge Noyes, Mr. Wood, the district attorney, Mr. Geary, the lawyer and ex-Congressman who had advised and defended McKenzie, and one Frost, a special agent from the Department of Justice at Washington, to appear in San Francisco in October, 1901, and show cause why they, too, should not be punished for contempt of court. After all, there was something to be admired in the bold dash and forceful ability of the arch conspirator. Alexander McKenzie might have reigned supreme until the successful realization of the scheme or conspiracy had he been assisted by a more efficient and less bungling corps of lieutenants.

Judge Noyes, having given a scant day's notice to the bar, departed from Nome in August, 1901, adjourning his court until November, and leaving legal matters in a state of great confusion. The favored, however, immediately prior to his departure, had obtained his ready signature to various orders and injunctions; and shortly before the vessel weighed anchor there was a stream of small boats plying between the shore and the maritime court, whose passengers were obtaining what came to be known as "deep-sea injunctions." As a result of a number of conflicting orders which Judge Noyes had made pertaining to a certain disputed mining claim, a body of masked men some time later endeavored by force of arms to drive away the parties in possession, in consequence of which there was bloodshed and enrichment of the hospital.

Two petitions--one from the general public, the other from the lawyers--were sent to the President seeking the removal of Judge Noyes and the appointment of a suitable man in his stead. The latter petition, signed almost universally by the bar, characterizes Judge Noyes as "weak," "vacillating," "dilatory," "careless," "negligent," "partial," and "absolutely incompetent." It should carry additional weight by reason of the moderation of its language. In September, having received his instructions through Attorney-General Knox, Judge Wickersham, of the Third Judicial Division of Alaska, opened a term of court during the interregnum period; and, having entered upon his duties with ability and despatch, soon gained the confidence of the community by a number of prompt, clear-cut decisions.

The United States Circuit Court of Appeals, on the sixth day of January, 1902, filed its opinion and judgment in the contempt cases of Arthur H. Noyes, C.A.S. Frost, Thomas J. Geary, and Joseph K. Wood. The opinion of the court was delivered by Judge Gilbert, and there are concurring opinions by Judges Ross and Morrow, which, however, are stronger and more severe in their expressions than the prevailing opinion.

After reviewing the history of the proceedings which have heretofore been set forth, and commenting upon the further evidence received on the trial, Judge Noyes is adjudged guilty of contempt of court in that he not only refused to compel McKenzie to obey the writs, but, on the other hand, made orders which prevented their enforcement. In view of the fact that he holds a public office, Noyes's sentence consists of a mere fine of one thousand dollars. As to Geary, the lawyer, the court states that there is not sufficient evidence to convince it beyond a reasonable doubt that he was guilty of contempt, and the charge against him is dismissed. Wood, the district attorney, is adjudged guilty, and is sentenced to four months' imprisonment in the county jail of Alameda County, California. Frost, the special agent from the Department of Justice, who (as the evidence discloses), soon after his arrival at Nome, became an assistant district attorney, and, later, Judge Noyes's private secretary, and who spent government money in behalf of the conspirators, is likewise found guilty of contempt of court, and is sentenced to imprisonment for twelve months in the county jail.

Judge Ross in his concurring opinion says:

"I am of the opinion that the records and evidence in the cases show beyond any reasonable doubt that the circumstances under which and the purposes for which each of those persons committed the contempt alleged and so found were far graver than is indicated in the opinion of the court, and that the punishment awarded by the court is wholly inadequate to the gravity of the offenses. I think the records and evidence show very clearly that the contempts of Judge Noyes and Frost were committed in pursuance of a corrupt conspiracy with Alexander McKenzie and with others, not before the court and therefore not necessary to be named, by which the properties involved in the suits mentioned in the opinion, among other properties, were to be wrongfully taken, under the forms of law, from the possession of those engaged in mining them, and the proceeds thereof appropriated by the conspirators. For those shocking offenses it is apparent that no punishment that can be lawfully imposed in a contempt proceeding is adequate. But a reasonable imprisonment may be here imposed, and I am of the opinion that, in the case of the respondent Arthur H. Noyes, a judgment of imprisonment in a county jail for the period of eighteen months should be imposed, and in the case of Frost a like imprisonment of fifteen months.... I think Wood should be imprisoned for ten months.... In regard to the respondent Geary, I agree with the finding of the court to the effect that the contempt alleged against him is not sufficiently established."

Judge Morrow concurs in the findings contained in the opinion of Judge Gilbert, and adds: "In my judgment the evidence establishes the fact that there was a conspiracy between the respondent Noyes, McKenzie, and others to secure possession of certain valuable mining claims at Nome, Alaska, under proceedings involving the appointment of a receiver, for the purpose of working the properties and obtaining the gold deposited in the claims. To carry these proceedings to a supposed successful conclusion, Noyes, McKenzie, and others found it a necessary part of the scheme to resist the process of this court. In pursuance of this conspiracy, the contempt charged against Noyes was committed; but I agree with Judge Gilbert that this conspiracy is outside the charge of contempt, and in view of the fact that the respondent Noyes holds a judicial position, I concur in his judgment that the respondent be required to pay a fine of one thousand dollars."

A giant conspiracy indeed, far-reaching in its ramifications, which received its death-blow in the arrest and sentence of Alexander McKenzie, and which may be said to have had its proper interment in the recent adjudication of the Circuit Court of Appeals. It only remains for the President to remove from office the judge who has so flagrantly disgraced the federal bench, and to appoint a successor under whose administration of justice a marvelous mineral region will develop with rapidity and confidence.[1]

As this book goes to print, renewed efforts are being made in the United States Senate, by Messrs. Hansbrough and McCumber of North Dakota, to "vindicate" McKenzie and Noyes. The present method of vindication appears to consist mainly in attacking the intelligence and integrity of the three eminent jurists who constitute the United States Circuit Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit.

The credit for relieving northwestern Alaska of this judicial-receiver curse belongs to three equally essential factors: first, Charles D. Lane, president of the Wild Goose Company, who had the courage to fight the "ring" to a finish without compromise; second, Samuel Knight, of the San Francisco bar, through whose ability and aggressiveness the matter was properly and clearly brought before the appellate court; third, the Circuit Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit, which promptly and fearlessly redressed, so far as lay within its power, the wrongs that had been perpetrated among an outraged people. And, be the truth known, this has been accomplished in the face of great indifference and strong opposition at Washington.

Uncle Sam's record in Alaska has not been one to be proud of. A taxed, unrepresented people, who, under the greatest adversities, have shown to the world the enormous and varied resources of a supposedly barren land, have for years had to bear the additional burden of incompetent and unscrupulous officials who have been foisted upon the country. The rush to Cape Nome has attracted attention to only a comparatively insignificant portion of Alaska, and emphasized but one of the treasures in its vast, unexplored storehouse.

In the north and east, and over by the Canadian border-line, is the world-famous Klondike region. Fifteen hundred miles distant to the west, close to Siberia, are the Nome gold-fields. Southeast are found seemingly inexhaustible quartz-gold mines, the greatest salmon-fisheries in the world, and a climate and soil which will make agriculture possible and profitable. And away to the south and west are immense forests, mines of copper, and the Pribilof Islands, the home of the fur-seal. Within the boundaries of Alaska there lies a country incomprehensible in its extent and difficulties, inconceivable in the possibilities of its latent wealth. The marvelous discoveries of gold at Cape Nome, which have entailed so much hardship and scandal, bringing riches to many and disappointment to more, will at least have worked a highly beneficent result in bringing earlier to light the neglect and needs of our wonderful Alaska.

FOOTNOTES

[1] As this book is going through the press, the announcement is made from Washington, February 23, that, upon the recommendation of the Attorney-General, the President has removed Judge Noyes from office.