A Woman who went to Alaska Part 28

Ituk and Muky now made ready to go with me to the Home, a half mile away to the east where they were also to get some bread, this important item having been forgotten in the hurry of departure from Chinik. In the meantime Mollie, not to lose a moment of time, as is her method, had gotten out her fis.h.i.+ng tackle and was already fis.h.i.+ng for tom-cod through a hole in the ice. Bidding her Beoqua (good-bye), we started for the Home, Ituk politely taking my little bag, and Muky leaping lightly over the rocks toward the mainland. Along the sh.o.r.e of the island I was fearful of cutting my boots on the jagged rocks and rubble thickly strewn over the sands, and had to proceed cautiously for a time, but Ituk, perceiving my difficulty, led to a smoother path, and we were soon on the mainland, and upon the soft tundra, when it was only a few minutes walk to the Home.

It was eleven o'clock in the evening, and we found the missionaries just returned from a trip to the schooner, where they had secured fresh potatoes and onions. The smell and taste of an onion was never so good to me before, and the potatoes were the first we had seen in six months.

I had been in the Home in the early spring for a day, and now, as then, met with a warm welcome from the missionaries. They now had double the number of native children they had in Chinik, and their house is large and commodious, though unfinished.

I was a.s.signed the velvet couch upon which I had spent a good many nights, and the two natives returned to Mollie after securing some bread from Miss E. for their lunches.

Next day we visited, and I rested considerably, finding again how good it was to be in a safe and quiet place with no fear of stone throwers or giant powder.

About half-past ten o'clock in the evening, just after the sun had set, we started on our return trip, Mollie having arrived with her dog-teams and natives. The sunset sky was exceedingly beautiful, but beneath our feet we had only very bad ice and water. Near the island great ice cakes were floating, interspersed with dark seams and lanes wider than we had before seen. Sometimes I rode on one of the sleds or walked, ran or leaped over the water holes to keep up with the rest until too tired and heated, when I threw myself upon a sled again; but as we proceeded we found firmer ice and less water. Mollie and I had both to ride upon one sled now, for Ituk had lashed the kyak upon the little one, and they were one dog short, as an animal had run away while they were eating supper at the Home. Finally, pitying the dogs upon the large sled, who seemed to have a heavy load (although only one seal, as they had met with little success in hunting), I motioned to Ituk to wait for me, which he did.

"Ituk," I called, as I came nearer, "let me ride in the kyak, will you?"

"You ride in kyak?" asked the man in surprise.

"Yes, let me get in, I will hold on tight," and, as he made no objection, I climbed upon the boat, crept into the hole made for that purpose and sat down.

"All right, Ituk; I am ready," I said.

The man laughed, cracked his whip, and the dogs started.

I had not before realized that I would be sitting so high up, and that at each dip in a crack or depression of the ice, when the sled runner ran a little higher than the other, I should stand a grand chance of being spilled into the water, but my feet were so cold in my rubber boots that I was thinking to get them under cover would be agreeable, and though Ituk probably well knew what the outcome of my ride would be, he very patiently agreed to allow me to try it.

We had not gone far when our dogs made a sudden dash or turn, the right-hand runner slipped lengthwise into a seam, and over we went, sled, kyak, woman and all upon the ice in a sorry heap. The dogs halted instantly, and Ituk, who had been running on the left-hand side of them, came back at my call.

"O, Ituk, come here and help me! I cannot get out of the kyak," I cried l.u.s.tily. "I will not get into it again," and I rubbed my wrist upon which the skin had been slightly bruised, and he a.s.sisted me to my feet.

The native laughed.

"Kyak no good--riding--heap better run," he said.

"That's so, Ituk, but my feet are very cold."

"Get warm quick--you running," was his reply, and we started on again.

When five or six miles from Chinik the water became more troublesome, and our progress was slow. We were wading through holes, leaping over seams, and treading through slush and water. It was colder than the night before, a thin skin of ice was forming, but not firm enough to hold one up. I was cold and cuddled into the sled with Mollie, but the two natives running alongside were continually sitting upon the rail to get a short ride instead of walking, thus loading the sled too heavily upon one side, and we were soon all tumbled into water a foot deep.

As I went over I threw out my arm to save myself, and my sleeve was soaked through in an instant. Koki and Muky thought it great fun, and laughed and shouted in glee, but to me it was a little too serious. My clothes were wet through on my right side, and I was now obliged to run whether I wanted to do so or not, for we were fully a mile from home. My gloves and handkerchief were soaked with water, and I threw them away, thrusting my hands into my jacket pockets and running to keep up with the others.

We were now wading and leaping across frequent lanes, and were more in the water than upon the ice. The sharp eyes of the natives had discerned the sh.o.r.e line well bordered by open water, and they were wondering how they would get across. Finally we could get no farther, and were a hundred feet from the beach.

"Dogs can swim," said Mollie, sententiously, as was her habit.

"How will you and I get on sh.o.r.e, Mollie?" I asked anxiously.

"Ituk, big man,--he carry you, may be," answered Mollie, roguishly, with a twinkle.

"But," I continued seriously, "how deep is the water, anyway, Koki?"

seeing that he had been wading in to find out.

"Him not much deep. We walk all right,--'bout up here," and the native placed his hand half way between his knee and thigh to show the depth, then walking a little farther down towards the hotel he seemed to find a better place, and called for all to follow, which we did.

The men waded across to the sh.o.r.e, stepping upon stones which now and then, at this point, were embedded in the sand, Mollie boldly following their example. All wore high-skin boots, coming far above their knees, and water-tight, but my rubber-boots had never been put to a test like this, only coming a little above my knees, where the soft tops were confined by a drawstring, and this water was very cold, as I had good reason to know.

However, there was nothing to do but go on, first watching the others, and then plunging boldly in. I drew my boot-tops higher, fastened the strings securely, picked up my short skirts and wound them closely about me, but not in a manner to impede my progress, and stepped in.

By this time the dogs and men were upon the sands, and making for home, only a few rods away, but I took my time, walking slowly in order that the water should not slop over the tops of my boots, and we finally reached the beach and the house safely.

CHAPTER XXVI.

GOOD-BYE TO GOLOVIN BAY.

On the morning of the twenty-sixth of June I awoke to find that the ice had drifted out to sea in the night, eight days after Mollie and I had taken our twelve miles trip across the bay and return. Then came hard rain and wind, that, for several days, blew the ice back into the bay, first to one side, and then to the other, so that the steamers waiting to come in could not do so for fear of the drifting floes. By the thirtieth of June schooners were coming into the bay with pa.s.sengers and freight, and the coast steamers, "Elmore" and "Dora," had begun to make regular trips to and from Nome.

With them came mails from the outside, with newspapers and tidings of friends in the States. Then our fingers trembled at opening our letters until we found that all our dear ones were well, and we heartily thanked the Lord. There were other white women in camp by this time, and many strangers at the hotel, among others, officials, and those in authority.

Since the stone-throwing episode the Marshal had been doing duty as watchman, sleeping during the day and guarding the house nights, the heavy iron "bracelets" in his inner coat pocket weighing scarcely more than the loaded revolver in his belt.

Our little sick girl being obliged now to keep her bed continually, with no more playing in the sand and suns.h.i.+ne, although her cough had left her, was still the same sweet, patient child she had been through all her illness, and my whole time was given to her. Before one of the sunny south windows of the living room we placed her cot each morning, and here she received her numerous friends, both Eskimo and white, and their names were legion. They came from the east, west, north and south, all sorry to know of her illness, and bringing presents with them.

Sometimes it was a little live bird or squirrel, a delicious salmon trout or wild fowl for her supper; sometimes it was candy, nuts, or fresh fruit from Nome, and with everything she was well pleased and joyous. Friends soon came in from the outside, bringing city dolls dressed in ribbons and laces; there were tiny dishes, chairs, tables,--a hundred things dear to a little girl's heart, and all pleased her immensely, but all were laid quickly aside for a basket of wild flowers or mosses, for a fish, bird, animal or baby, showing plainly her taste for the things of nature in preference to art. Her love for her birthplace, with its hills, streams and ocean is a sincere one, and, young as she is, and having seen the great city by the Golden Gate, with many of its wonders, she is happiest in Chinik.

Here lives her dear, old grandmother, her cousins and aunts, not to mention the little calico-capped baby belonging to Apuk, for which she has a whole heartful of love, and the sight of which is better to her than medicine.

During the month of July we eagerly watched the incoming steamers, and welcomed all new comers who landed in Chinik. Many were simply pa.s.sing through on their way up Fish River to the mines, and praise of the land of the "Ophir" gold was sung on all sides. A few remained for the summer. Here men built boats, and rowed away to Keechawik and Neukluk, carrying supplies for hunting or prospecting.

The captain's vegetable garden in the sand was growing rapidly, and was watched with eager eyes by everyone. We ate lettuce and radishes, picked fresh from the garden beds where they had been sown by the captain's own hands, and we found Ageetuk and Mollie to be quite famous cooks. Nothing so delicious as their salads (for the French cooks had long ago gone, the hotel management being changed, and Mollie had a nice little kitchen of her own), and with fresh salmon trout, wild fowl, fresh meats and vegetables, we made up for many months of winter dieting.

All this time I longed to get away. I was going each day to the hill-top to watch for the steamers which would bring the letters for which I waited. Affairs connected with my gold claims were, with much anxiety and trouble, arranged as well as possible, and when I boarded the steamer, I would carry with me, at least, three deeds to as many claims, with a fair prospect of others; but I could not decide to remain another winter. I was determined to go to St. Michael, up the Yukon to Dawson, and "outside," and laid my plans accordingly. Letters from my father and brother in Dawson had been received.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CLAIM ON BONANZA CREEK.]

How my heart ached when I thought of leaving the little sick girl and Charlie, the latter now grown wilful, but still so bright and pretty. I wanted to take both with me, but, no, I could not.

The little girl's work was not ended. Hers is a wonderful mission, and she is surely about to fulfill it. Born as she was in a rough mining camp at the foot of the barren hills, she was given the Eskimo name of Yahkuk, meaning a little hill, and she, like an oasis in a desert place, is left here to cheer, love, and help others.

Many times I have seen evidence of the sweet and gentle influences going out from the life of little Yahkuk as she lies upon her cot of pain. A tall, brown miner enters the living room, goes to the little bed by the window, speaks softly, and, bending over the tiny girl, kisses her. Then her big, black eyes glance brightly into blue ones looking down from above, full red lips part in a cordial smile, while the one solitary dimple in the smooth, round cheek p.r.i.c.ks its way still deeper, and small arms go up around his neck. When the man turns, his face wears a soft and tender expression as though he were looking at some beautiful sight far away, and, perhaps, he is. G.o.d grant that the sweet memory of that little child's kiss may be so lasting that all their lives, he and others, may be purer and better men.

When August came I sailed away. The "Dora" had entered the bay in the morning and found my trunk packed and waiting; it was then only the work of a little time to make ready to leave. To my good missionary friends I had already said good-bye, and the captain and Mollie were kindly regretful. With tears in my eyes, but with real pain in my heart I bade Jennie good-bye, and stepped into the little boat which was to carry me to the "Dora."

Farewell, then, to Chinik, the home of the north wind and blizzard.

Farewell to the ice fields of Golovin, so tardy in leaving in summer, and to Keechawik and Chinik, whose clear rus.h.i.+ng waters so cheered us in spring time. Farewell to the moss-covered hills and paths thickly bordered with blossoms. Farewell to my white-faced friends, and to the dark-skinned ones, "Beoqua."