<h2 id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br/> <span class="smaller">SITKA TO YAKUTAT</span></h2>
<p>As we were detained at Sitka for a fortnight,
making preparations for the expedition, and
waiting for W. to come up on the next boat, I
may as well give some description of one of the
most beautiful places I have ever seen. As the
traveller lands on the pier, he has the Indian
village of about five hundred inhabitants on his
left, while just in front are the barracks of the
United States marines, and the old Russian
citadel, from the top of which he will obtain a
lovely view, somewhat resembling that of the Bay
of Naples, but with the additional charm of the
snow mountains and small glaciers at the head
of Silver Bay. Numbers of small green islands
stretch across its mouth, while further away to the
west lies Kruzoff Island, humping itself into the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</SPAN></span>
dormant volcano of Mount Edgcumbe and the
double summit of the Camelsback. Due east, and
almost overshadowing the town, rises the sharp
peak of Verstovia, so called by the Russians from
its being supposed to be exactly a <i>verst</i> (about
three thousand feet) high, but the translation of
the Indian name is Arrowhead. To the north-east
lies the little pool of Swan Lake, above which the
forest-clad hills sweep up again to the height of
about two thousand feet, while across the bay to
the south rise mountains of very respectable proportions.</p>
<p>As he goes on up the main street, our traveller
sees on the left a broad grassy <i>place</i> beyond which
are the remains of towers and stockades, now no
longer required to keep out the hostile Siwash,
while on the right are a row of stores, of which
one or two are still the old log buildings erected
by the first inhabitants. He then passes the
simple but hospitable little Baranoff hotel on his
left, and finds himself in front of the Greek
Church, the main feature of Sitka. Brilliantly
though rather tawdrily decorated inside, its
service on Sunday was impressively conducted<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</SPAN></span>
and was well attended by many of the older
Indians, and by the few Russians left in Sitka.</p>
<p>The road continues along the shores of the
bay to the Indian River, a broad rapid stream,
foaming in places over ledges of rock; the ground
in its neighbourhood has been reserved as a sort
of public park, and, though wild and uncared for,
presents pictures of great beauty. But though
beautiful, the town is very diminutive, and its
permanent white population does not, I should
think, amount to more than one hundred souls.
We had a letter of introduction to Mr. Vanderbilt,
one of the Sitka merchants, and, after securing
rooms at the aforesaid hotel, went to interview
him with decidedly satisfactory results. His
partner, Mr. De Groff, was at that time at
Yakutat, where he had established a small store,
and was supervising some gold mining that
had been commenced in the black sand on the
shore. His small schooner, the ‘Alpha,’ was
expected back every day from sealing, and as
soon as she returned she would be sent up to
Yakutat with stores for his partner, and could take
us as passengers. At that time we did not intend<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</SPAN></span>
to take any white men, trusting that we should be
able to get canoes and porters at Yakutat, Dick
being the medium of communication.</p>
<p>We then decided to go on a little training
expedition, and selected a sharp peak we had
noticed from the steamer in approaching Sitka,
and had set down as between seven and eight
thousand feet high. To reach this we departed
one afternoon in a fair-sized canoe with its owner
and Dick, and rowed (for most of these large
canoes are fitted with oars) in a northerly direction
for about six miles, till we reached the mouth of a
narrow bay known as Nusquashinsky or Nushanitzky.
Here the wind, though light, was in our
favour, and we sailed peaceably up it, reaching its
head about seven o’clock, and camped by a broad
stream, along which we had at first thought we
could make our way towards our mountain, which
the Indian informed us was called Sha-klokh, or
Spear-peak, but the bush in the valley was so
dense that we struck straight up next morning,
till in about four hours we got above tree-level,
and pitched camp at a height of about two
thousand feet close to a big bed of snow. Next<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</SPAN></span>
day we climbed our peak triumphantly in about
three hours, and even put on the rope to cross a big
snow-patch hanging on the face, but its height
proved to be only 4,300 feet, so easily is one
deceived at first in a new country. We built a
big stone-man on the top, which we afterwards
found was visible with a glass from the bay, and
returned to the tents, where we spent most of the
afternoon in slumber. At this camp we got one
or two deer, and took a lot of venison back to
Sitka, intending to dry it and take it north, but
unfortunately it all went bad in that moist atmosphere.</p>
<p>Our next expedition was to Kruzoff and
Mount Edgcumbe, and this time we had rather a
sickener. As we had about fifteen miles of much
more open sea we took a bigger canoe, and had to
pull the beastly thing all the way, so landed in the
first place which came handy, a very awkward
landing with a lot of big rocks about. From the
appearance of clouds of mosquitoes in the evening
Dick prophesied bad weather, and he was right, for
it poured the whole of the next day, most of
which we spent in the tent. In the afternoon I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</SPAN></span>
went out to look for deer, but the bush was so
dense that it was impossible to get through it
silently, and though I just glimpsed a couple as
they started away, I couldn’t even get a snap-shot,
and returned <i>bredouille</i> in a very dripping condition.
The following day the weather was not
quite so adverse, though there was still plenty of
rain, and getting our canoe afloat we rowed for
an hour and a half along the beach, till we reached
a spot where the men said the bush was not so
thick. In this they were right, but the ground
was broken into countless ravines which always
seemed to be at right angles to our course, and
getting up and down the slippery sides of these
with a heavy knapsack on one’s back proved rather
exhausting, so that the afternoon was well advanced
by the time we began to climb the steeper slopes
of Edgcumbe itself. At last we came on a small
clear space in the middle of the thick scrub; and
though no level spot could be found for the tent,
we decided to pitch camp. A lot of cedar boughs
were cut and arranged as evenly as possible for
our bed, and after we had fried with bacon and
disposed of a ptarmigan H. had picked off with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</SPAN></span>
his rifle as we came up, we made what the Indians
called ‘a white man’s fire,’ and so got warm if not
dry before crawling into our blankets for the night.
On the previous evening we had made a nondescript
meal off cockles and ‘gumboots,’ a large species
of <i>chiton</i> found adhering to the rocks. The
Indians are very fond of these and attribute soporific
powers to them, but I certainly cannot recommend
them, for they resemble nothing more
than the indiarubber after which they are named,
being absolutely tasteless and appallingly tough.</p>
<p>It rained all night, but the Edgington tent
stood it well, very little coming through, and that,
I fancy, only where carelessness had left some
article touching the canvas. With a view to
assisting the commissariat department, we separated
in the morning, E. and H. going up to the
top of Edgcumbe, and securing two more ptarmigan
on the way. They found the bottom of the
shallow crater covered with snow, and on the
summit itself encountered the tracks of one of the
enormous Alaska brown bears (<i>Ursus Richardsonii</i>).
I took Dick towards the Camelsback, but we
never saw a sign of deer or bear, and so about<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</SPAN></span>
two o’clock I turned to come home, giving him
the rifle that he might make a last effort to procure
venison. I had no doubt about being able
to find my way back, for I had taken my bearings
carefully, and a fair-sized dead tree standing in
the middle of our small clearing afforded a capital
landmark. I went at a fair pace, and though all
the ravines were very much alike, I presently felt
pretty sure I was nearing camp, an opinion confirmed
in a minute or two by hearing, as I thought,
the crooning song of the Indian we had left behind.
Still no dead tree appeared, and thinking I must
have been mistaken, I pushed on for another
quarter of an hour, by which time I felt sure I had
gone far enough. I struggled up the mountain, I
scrambled down, I shouted and yelled, I had an
exciting chase after a couple of ptarmigan, one of
which I managed to bag with my revolver, but
nowhere could I see this mangy tree, and began
to feel very unhappy, as it was gradually borne in
on me that I was very decidedly lost. At last
I saw far below me two tiny lakes which we had
passed on the previous day, and decided to go
down to them, as I felt pretty sure I could make<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</SPAN></span>
camp from there. Hardly had I descended a
hundred yards, when I came into the corner of
a clearing, and heard E.’s voice. And then the
mystery was explained; the other Indian, with
praiseworthy but most mistaken industry, had cut
down the dead tree for firewood. It had rained all
day, and in the night a tremendous south-west
gale came on which proved the last straw, and we
settled to return to Sitka, where we were going to
dismiss the Dude, with whom we had had a row. He
had accidentally left his blankets on the beach by
the canoe, and though we had lent him one of ours,
he was very dissatisfied, and apparently coming
to the conclusion that serving us was not likely to
be all beer and skittles, announced that he was not
coming to Yakutat. We made no attempt to get
him to change his mind, for we had already come
to the conclusion that he had much too good an
opinion of himself, and was more than a little
lazy, though he was an entertaining conversationalist,
and gave us interesting scraps of information,
either social, such as the number of slaves
he had till quite recently possessed, or geographical,
such as that twenty-one miles up the Copper<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</SPAN></span>
River a glacier stretches across its whole width, a
phenomenon which existed on the Stickheen till
comparatively lately. He added that the river
was two miles wide at this point, and that a
portage of fifteen miles across the ice was made
by the Indians with skin canoes, or bidarkies, but
as he had never been there I am inclined to doubt
his details. Although we were unanimous as to
the expediency of dismissing him, we were not
at all so united as to how he was to be replaced,
and became, indeed, a little despondent as to
whether we should get further than Yakutat, so
that had we been able to communicate by telegraph
with W., I am not at all sure that the
expedition would not have then and there come
to an end, and the members of it taken refuge in
the Selkirks. Luckily we had to wait for him, and
in the interval more cheerful counsels prevailed.</p>
<p>Meanwhile we packed down again to the
canoe; the wind was very high and there was a
lot of sea, but the men thought that as the wind
was fair we might venture, and after lunch off a
confiding grouse which had fallen a victim to E.’s
rifle, we started, and found that, whether we liked<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</SPAN></span>
it or not, we had got to go on, as returning to the
island in the teeth of the gale was quite impossible.
The rollers were enormous, but with a
little scrap of sail we flew along finely, and in
about two hours were back in Sitka harbour.</p>
<p>The next few days were spent chiefly in endless
confabulations with various white men and
Indians who were willing to accompany us as
porters, which resulted in the engagement of two
white men, Lyons and McConnahay, and four
Sitka Indians, the former to receive three, the
latter two dollars a day and their food. E. and I
occupied ourselves one morning in the ascent of
Verstovia. We left at four o’clock along the
Indian River by a fair trail for about an hour, and
then, crossing the stream by a fallen tree, struck
up to the right through the most abominable bush,
full of devil’s clubs, an exceedingly evil plant with
large green leaves and scarlet berries, covered as
to the stem and the backs of the leaves with
minute prickles which penetrate the human skin
with unpleasant facility, and, if left in, cause festering
sores. It was steamingly hot in the low
ground, but we struggled up somehow, or rather I<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</SPAN></span>
did the struggling, for E. appeared provokingly
cool while I was dripping and breathless, and
eventually reached the top of the sharp rocky
cone which forms the highest peak, at half-past
seven, getting just scrambling enough in the last
hundred feet to find our rifles rather a nuisance.
As we had been told we should take at least six
hours, we were rather pleased with ourselves, and
after spending an hour on the top and setting up
a flagstaff left there some years before by a party
of marines, we descended leisurely by the west
face, instead of the north-west ridge up which we
had come, and got back to Sitka just after eleven.</p>
<p>At last the ‘Alpha’ returned from sealing with
119 skins on board and was beached for repairs.
She was followed next day by the ‘Elder,’ which
brought W., and after two or three days’ packing
and arranging, we actually started on Tuesday,
July 3, at 10.30 <span class="smcapuc">A.M.</span> About half of the slender
population of Sitka came down to see us off,
and to wish us every success. While the little
five-and-twenty-ton schooner was beating out
between the islands against the fresh north-west
breeze we discovered that we were being pursued,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</SPAN></span>
and soon afterwards a boat came up, bringing an
American flag, provided by the kindness of Mr.
Hayden, the Acting Governor, and we accordingly
hoisted the Stars and Stripes at the masthead.
Mrs. Hayden had previously presented us with a
small silk flag to be left on the summit of Mount
St. Elias, if we ever got there. Dinner was soon
announced and we proceeded below, but recoiled
from the fearful heat and smell, caused by the
want of ventilation in the cabin in which was the
cooking-stove. E., who was proof against anything,
remained below, but H., W., and I retired
to the deck, where we ate our meals during the
greater part of our voyage. Shortly afterwards
we three yielded to the gruesome attacks of seasickness,
as the little vessel was now pitching
freely; W., who had often cruised off the east
coast of the United States in small yachts, soon
recovered, but H. and I remained more or less
prostrate the whole time we were on board.</p>
<p>The wind was dead ahead, west by north
(magnetic), and our craft made so much leeway
that our onward progress was insignificant. Next
morning, under a grey sky, we were only fifteen<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</SPAN></span>
miles from Sitka; Edgcumbe was still in sight the
morning after that; and it was not till Friday the
6th that we sighted Mounts Fairweather and
Crillon, some sixty miles off, and right ahead.
Next day we were only about twenty miles from
them, and went tacking steadily up the coast, the
glories of which were veiled in almost constant
rain and cloud, without making much progress.</p>
<p>On Sunday we at last got past Lituya Bay,
near which we saw a humming-bird. In the
evening, the wind, which we now regarded as a
personal enemy, since, blowing from the north-west,
it ought at least to have brought fine weather,
began to die away, and at about two in the morning
a vigorous south-easter sprang up, so that we
flew along finely in the right direction at last;
but, to our intense disgust, Captain Jimmy, whose
only fault was over-caution, perhaps a natural one
on these very dangerous coasts, hove to, fearing
lest we might be driven ashore in the thick
weather that prevailed. In the evening the wind
collapsed and we got a glimpse of land, as to the
identity of which there arose a considerable argument,
but on the whole those who had been there<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</SPAN></span>
before held the opinion that we were about thirty
miles from Ocean Cape, which view proved correct,
as next morning, which was more or less fine, we
were only ten miles off. Mount St. Elias and the
range as far east as Mount Vancouver were visible,
but swathed in clouds. Their height did not
impress us much at first sight, but we were greatly
struck with the enormous mass of the Malaspina
Glacier, the white upper part of which presented
such a curiously regular appearance that at first
we believed it to be a layer of cloud, till undeceived
by the telescope. There was hardly any wind, but
we crept round Cape Phipps at last, and came in
sight of Yakutat. Once round the corner, the
light breeze from the west sent us along faster,
and we were soon abreast of the ‘ranche’ on
Kantag Island. Great was the excitement
among our men: ‘There’s De Groff,’—‘and
Callsen,’—‘and Dalton.’</p>
<p>We had hoisted our flag, but the halliards got
entangled and the Stars and Stripes were an unsightly
ball, omen perhaps of what was to befall
us, for as we rounded the point at the end of the
island, we kept a little too far out, the tide, ebbing<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</SPAN></span>
swiftly through the narrow channel, caught our
bows, and we ran hard and fast on to a rocky
shoal instead of sailing into the harbour known as
Port Mulgrave. We were evidently a fixture till
the tide rose again, and so went ashore in the
hope of finding strawberries, in which we were
disappointed, as, though there were any number of
plants, the Indian women and children had been
beforehand with us, and we only collected a meagre
half-dozen. We made the acquaintance of Mr.
De Groff, Vanderbilt’s partner, and so part-owner
of the ‘Alpha,’ a short, rather good-looking man,
with blue eyes and fair hair and beard. Our
Siwashes soon found friends and relations in the
village, and we agreed to pay them board wages
at the rate of $1.25 per day for the lot, while
McConnahay (‘Shorty’) and Lyons were to feed
with us on the ‘Alpha.’ Another little schooner,
the ‘Three Brothers,’ of Kayak Island, was in the
harbour when we arrived, but took her departure
next day.</p>
<p>There being some alarm as to whether the
water would not come in and damage our stores
when the schooner floated, we at first resolved to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</SPAN></span>
sit up, but eventually we gave it up and turned in.
About midnight she was got off and beached in
front of the ranche without our knowing anything
about it, and without taking in any water.</p>
<p>From this point onwards I give the events just
as they are noted in my diary.</p>
<hr />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</SPAN></span></p>
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