<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></SPAN>CHAPTER VII.</h2>
<h3>GOING TO NOME.</h3>
<div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/do.png" width-obs="56" height-obs="150" alt="O" title="O" /></div>
<p class="firstp">NE beautiful day in the spring of 1900
I sailed again for Alaska—this time
for Nome from San Francisco. An
English family consisting of the
mother, one son and a daughter were
to accompany me, and we had spent
weeks in making our preparations. We
were taking supplies of clothing, food,
tents and bedding sufficient to last until
some of our numerous plans of work after our arrival
brought in returns. My hope was to meet my
father there, for he had written that he thought he
should go to the new gold fields, where he could do
beach mining.</p>
<p>I was not above doing any honest work, and felt
confident that I could make my way if I could gain
an entrance into that country. The English people
were all workers, and I had known them for ten
years or more.</p>
<p>Our steamer was the good ship "St. Paul," belonging
to the Alaska Commercial Company, and
was advertised to sail on May twenty-fifth. When
I laughingly called the attention of one of the owners
of the ship to the fact that that date fell upon
Friday, and many persons objected to sailing upon<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74"></SPAN></span>
that day, he postponed the starting of the "St.
Paul" to May twenty-sixth, and we left the dock
on Saturday afternoon amid the cheers and hand-waving
of thousands of people who had come to
see the big boat off for Nome.</p>
<p>The steamer was well fitted out, spick and span
in fresh carpets and paint, and crowded to the utmost
capacity for comfort. Every stateroom was
full; each seat at the tables occupied. Not a foot of
space above or below decks was left unused, but
provision was made for all, and the ship was well
manned.</p>
<p>I was now much gratified to learn that there were
many on board whom I had met before; that the
steward, stewardess and several of the waiters had
been on duty on the steamer "Bertha" during my
trip out from Alaska the fall before, while I was
upon speaking terms with a dozen or more of the
passengers with whom I had traveled from the
same place. Of passengers we had, all told, four
hundred and eighty-seven. Of these thirty-five were
women. There was only one child on board, and
that was the little black-eyed girl with her Eskimo
mother and white father from Golovin Bay whom
I had seen at St. Michael some months before, and
who was now going back to her northern home.
She wore a sailor suit of navy blue serge, trimmed
with white braid, and was as coy and cunning as
ever, not speaking often to strangers, but laughing
and running away to her mother when addressed.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>From the day we sailed from San Francisco until
we reached Nome I missed no meals in the dining
salon, a pace which my English friends and others
could not follow, for they were uncomfortably ill
in the region of their digestive apparatus for several
days. I slept for hours each day and thoroughly
enjoyed the trip.</p>
<p>During the nine days' sail from San Francisco to
Unalaska, a distance of two thousand three hundred
and sixty-eight miles, I studied well the passengers.
We had preachers on board, as well as
doctors, lawyers, merchants and miners, and there
were women going to Nome to start eating houses,
hotels and mercantile shops. There were several
Swedish missionaries; one, a zealous young woman
from San Francisco, going to the Swedish Mission
at Golovin Bay.</p>
<p>This young person was pretty and pleasant, and
I was glad to make her acquaintance as well as that
of three other women speaking the same tongue
and occupying the next stateroom to mine. The
last named were going to start a restaurant in
Nome. As they were sociable, jolly, and good sailors
for the most part, I enjoyed their society. They
had all lived in San Francisco for years, and though
not related to each other, were firm friends of long
standing and were uniting their little fortunes in
the hope of making greater ones.</p>
<p>The young missionary was a friend to the other
three, and I found no better or more congenial<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_76" id="Page_76"></SPAN></span>
companions on board the ship than these four honest,
hard-working women, so full of hope, courage
and good sense as well as Christianity. Little did
I then think that these people, placed by a seeming
chance in an adjoining stateroom, were to be my
fellow-workers and true friends, not only for the
coming months in that Arctic land to which we
were going, but, as the sequel will show, perhaps
for years to come.</p>
<p>Not many days had passed when we found that
we had on board what few steamers can boast of,
and that was an orchestra of professional musicians
among the waiters. These were men going, with
all the others, to seek their fortunes in the new gold
fields, working their passage as waiters on the ship
to Nome, where they intended to leave it. Three
evenings in the week these musicians, with the help
of several singers on board, gave concerts in the
dining salon, which, though impromptu, were very
enjoyable.</p>
<p>A sweet and trained singer was the English girl
of our company, and she sang many times, accompanied
by the stringed instruments of the musicians,
much to the delight of the assembled passengers.
When she sang, one evening, in her clear
sympathetic voice the selection, "Oh, Where Is My
Wandering Boy Tonight," there was not a dry eye
in the room, and the mind of many a man went back
to his old home and praying mother in some far
distant state, making him resolve to write oftener<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_77" id="Page_77"></SPAN></span>
to her that she might be comforted with a knowledge
of his whereabouts and welfare. These evenings
were sometimes varied by recitations from
an elocutionist on board; and a practised clog
dancer excited the risibles of the company to the
extent that they usually shouted with laughter at his
exhibition of flying heels.</p>
<p>Day after day passed. Those who were continually
seasick had diversion enough. It was useless
for us to tell them a pathetic tale of some one, who,
at some time, had been more ill than they, because
they would not believe a word of it, and it was
equally useless to recommend an antidote for mal
de mer such as theirs. "No one was ever so ill before,"
they said. They knew they should die and be
buried at sea, and hoped they would if that would
put an end to their sufferings. We tried at last to
give them comfort by recommending out of former
experiences ship's biscuit, dry toast and pop-corn
as remedies, but only received black looks as our
reward. We then concluded that a diet of tea, coffee
and soup was exactly such a one as the fishes
would recommend could they speak, these favorite
and much used liquids keeping up a continual
"swishing" in one's interior regions, and causing
one to truthfully speak of the same as "infernal"
instead of internal. But they were all tree physical
as well as free moral agents and decided these
things for themselves.</p>
<p>At last we entered the Japan current and the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_78" id="Page_78"></SPAN></span>
weather was warmer and more enjoyable. On Monday,
June fourth, we saw from the deck a few drifting
logs and a quantity of seaweed, and these, with
the presence of gulls and goonies flying overhead,
convinced us that we were nearing land.</p>
<p>We were not mistaken. After eating an excellent
six o'clock dinner we went above to find ourselves
between high, rocky cliffs, which loomed up into
mountains not far distant, and we knew we were
again at the Aleutian Islands and in the rough
waters of Unimak Pass. As we drew nearer and
entered the harbor so well land-locked, the sun
dipped low into yellow-red western waters, thereby
casting long shadows aslant our pathway so delicately
shaded in greens.</p>
<p>The little hamlet of Dutch Harbor nestled cosily
at the foot of the mountains which bordered the
bay, and here numbers of ships lay anchored at rest.
Passing along easily beyond another high mountain,
we were soon at the dock of Unalaska, beside
other great ships in port. Both groups of craft were
evidently waiting for the ice to clear from Behring
Sea before proceeding on their way northward, and
we counted sixteen ships of different kinds and
sizes, the majority of them large steamers. All were
loaded with passengers and freight for Nome.
Scout boats had already been sent out to investigate
and find, if possible, a passage through the ice
fields, and the return of these scouts with good
news was anxiously watched and waited for, as the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_79" id="Page_79"></SPAN></span>
most desired thing at that time was a speedy and
safe landing on the supposedly golden beach sands
of Nome.</p>
<p>At Unalaska we spent four days taking on fresh
water and coal, during which time passengers visited
back and forth from the waiting steamers,
many persons having friends on other boats and
each having a curiosity to see if they were faring
as well or ill as he, comparing notes as to the expense
of traveling with the different companies, etc.
Passengers on the "St. Paul" agreed that they
had "no kick comin'," which was one of the commonest
slang phrases, intended to mean that they
had no fault to find with the Alaska Commercial
Company and their steamer "St. Paul." All were
well cared for and satisfied, as well they might be,
with the service of the ship's men.</p>
<p>Leaving Unalaska the sun shone clear and cold
upon the mountains where in places the sides
looked black from the late fires started in the deep
tundra by miscreants. The tops of the mountains
were covered with snow. Down deep gorges dashed
mountain waters of melting snow and ice, hurrying
to leap off gullied and rocky cliffs into the sea. Their
progress was never impeded. No tree nor shrub
obstructed the way with gnarled old trunks, twisted
roots, or low hanging branches, for none grow in
Unalaska, and the bold dignity and grandeur of
the mountains is never diminished by these lesser
objects.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_80" id="Page_80"></SPAN></span></p>
<p>As our ship sailed out into Behring Sea we were
closely followed by the steamer "George W. Elder,"
whose master, an old friend of our captain, had decided
to follow in our wake, he being less familiar
than the latter with Alaskan waters, and having
confidence in the ability of his friend to successfully
pilot both ships to Cape Nome.</p>
<div class="figcenter"><SPAN name="i92" id="i92"></SPAN> <SPAN href="images/092.jpg"><ANTIMG src="images/092t.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="238" alt="" title="" /></SPAN> STEAMSHIP ST. PAUL.</div>
<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_81" id="Page_81"></SPAN></span></p>
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