<h2 id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br/> <span class="smaller">LIFE AT YAKUTAT</span></h2>
<p><i>Thursday and Friday, August the 9th and 10th.</i>—We
wandered about the two villages hunting
curios, but without much result, though I got a
rather neat model of the skin bidarky. We got
some excellent clams from the Indians, and a good
lot of strawberries which W. and I hulled. We
tried to arrange with Ned to take us up in his
canoe to Disenchantment Bay, but there was a
‘potlatch’ in prospect, and he declined to make
any agreement.</p>
<p><i>Saturday, the 11th.</i>—Very fine and hot. Our
Indians came over by order, and Matthew and
Mike were set to cut wood, while the others took
the boat to fetch water, an operation which involved
some little time as the nearest good water
was about a mile away. Having nothing better to do,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</SPAN></span>
H. undertook to make a pudding of corn-meal
and raisins for supper. While we were all sitting
round watching, the fire, as was its wont, began
to collapse, and the kettle of water for the coffee
took a header into the ashes. ‘Thank goodness,’
said H., ‘it’s not the pudding.’ Even as he spoke
another log gave way and the pudding joined the
coffee-water. However it was soon re-made, but
proved better cold than hot. Just after supper
great excitement was caused by an aged crone, who
was leaning on the palings, pointing out to sea and
saying ‘schooner,’ but, on bringing the telescope
to bear, it proved to be only a big iceberg drifting
down from Disenchantment Bay.</p>
<p>In the evening Sub-chief George came round to
pay us a visit, and <i>said</i> that he and nine other
Indians had once seen the back of Mount St. Elias,
when after goats, and that it was a gentle snow-slope.
They landed at Cape Yaktagi, which he
described as being a better beach than Icy Bay.
There used once to be a village there, the westernmost
point to which the Tlinkits ever reached,
but now only three tumble-down houses are left.
They went up the <i>right</i> bank of the river Kokhtasch<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</SPAN></span>
for a day, and then for two days along
moraine at the back of Mount Snowshoe and the
range north of it, which was green and nearly clear
of snow on that side; they then turned east for
half a day over ice and saw the mountain as described.</p>
<p>In the afternoon Murphy’s little eleven-ton
schooner, the ‘Active,’ came down from Disenchantment
Bay, where he, Callsen, and Dalton had
been prospecting, and had found coal in a spot
where it seemed so likely to pay that some of them
went back later from Sitka to winter there, so as
to begin working it directly spring began.</p>
<p><i>Sunday, the 12th.</i>—Very fine, with a light west
wind. As we were short of meat Lyons and I
took the canoe along the shore towards Ankau
Creek, where we found several flocks of small
plover, and I shot about thirty. I had only No. 4
shot; with No. 8 or 10 the bag would probably
have been doubled. In the afternoon Murphy
came over; W. wanted to go down with him, but
they were already very full. He managed it at
last by exchanging places with Finn, who was to
stay and go down with us.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</SPAN></span></p>
<p><i>Monday, the 13th.</i>—The ‘Active’ sailed at six,
and W. went over about four o’clock. He must
have left the shed door open, and some dogs have
made their entrance, for H.’s sealskin gloves were
found outside, and my model bidarky had vanished
altogether; Ned subsequently discovered it unhurt
in the bushes outside. These Siwash dogs were
a horrid nuisance, and we several times rose in the
night to pursue them, but without result, as they
always escaped by the holes in the palings before
we could stop them up. Once they got into the
store-tent by digging under the side, and went off
with a bit of bacon and the only piece of cheese in
Yakutat.</p>
<p><i>Tuesday, the 14th.</i>—This afternoon the potlatch
began in the second house. These potlatches
generally follow a funeral or some great misfortune;
thus an Indian at Dry Bay, who possessed
three large trading canoes, had one of them
wrecked and some men drowned, on which he
promptly held a potlatch and gave away the other
two canoes and all the rest of his property, with
the view of appeasing the anger of the Great
Spirit. A potlatch is sometimes, but very rarely,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</SPAN></span>
held for the purpose of gaining influence in the
tribe in order that the donor may some day
succeed to the position of chief. This one we
attended was consequent on the exhumation and
reburial of the ashes of members of the two
families.</p>
<p>Just before proceedings commenced Matthew
summoned us, and ushered us in in great pew-opener
style. We were rather surprised at finding
blankets spread for us in the place of honour facing
the door, as we had been told they might perhaps
object to our presence, so we were pleased and said
they really did know how to do things in Yakutat.
About two hundred spectators crowded in, and
there was consequently a fairish ‘froust.’ A
blanket was then held up over the small oval hole
which served as a doorway, and the play began.
The ‘Ravens,’ seventeen men, four women, and
three boys, wondrously painted and arrayed,
came and thundered on the wall outside, after
which the old doctor, who wore a curious wooden
mask representing a raven’s head, crept under the
blanket, and singing and yelling postured slowly
down the three or four steps from the door,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</SPAN></span>
followed gradually by the rest, howling at the top
of their voices. When they were all in they
danced, but only for a short time. Some of the
head-dresses, made of ermine-skins and abelone
shells, were very quaint.</p>
<p>They then retired, and, after a pause during
which we all went out for some fresh air, the
‘Eagles’ entered in the same way. This time we saw
the old chief and doctor both skip into the house at
the first warning with somewhat undignified haste,
and when we followed, we found them ensconced in
the place of honour, and realised that we had been
intruders before, though they had been too polite
to turn us out. We huddled into a corner, and
watched the performance, which was much the
same. Gums and Jimmy were in great form, skipping
about as if they were birds, and waving their
arms wrapped in cloaks. Our George was also
most resplendent, having on his head De Groff’s
big tin funnel decorated with skins and red feathers.
One blanket was then torn up and distributed, and
then came a long wait, so H., Finn, and Shorty
went back with the missionaries.</p>
<p>E., Lyons, and I stayed, but this time took up<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</SPAN></span>
a position near the door so as to occasionally get
a little fresh air. The women, drawn up in two
rows on the dais on either side, swayed and bobbed,
chanting at the pitch of their lungs. They all
wore the same dark-blue and scarlet cloak, and
had red feathers and worsted in their hair, making
a decidedly striking picture. Most of them wore
sharks’-teeth earrings, to which they attach an
enormous importance, the lowest price we heard
of being twelve dollars for a pair. After this
a lot of blankets and calico were cut up and
given away, and we left them hard at it about five
o’clock. As the tide had risen in the meantime,
Lyons had to wade in a good way after the canoe,
which had been secured to the stump of a tree.</p>
<p><i>Wednesday, the 15th.</i>—After breakfast I went
off with Finn and Lyons in the canoe to Ankau
Creek, but the tide was running out so strongly
that we did not attempt to go up it, but landed,
and Lyons and I went up along the shore, while
Finn searched for strawberries, of which there were
still a few to be found. We followed up the creek
for nearly a mile, but, saw nothing in the way of
game, and as the rocks were decidedly unpleasant<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</SPAN></span>
to our moccasined feet we returned to the canoe
and crossed to Yakutat, where most of the Indians
were still in bed, having kept up the potlatch till
five in the morning, and distributed some three
thousand yards of calico, according to De Groff.
We lunched there, and sailed home about four
o’clock. The chief’s garden was being stripped of
its produce, turnip, beet, and a few onions, with a
view to the approaching feast.</p>
<p><i>Thursday, the 16th.</i>—Grey and cloudy, with a
south-east wind which ought to bring the ‘Alpha’
now. De Groff came over to lunch and took a
photograph of us ‘in camp,’ and also of the
Swedish Mission. The Indians were potlatching
again to-day; one woman gave away twenty-one
blankets and a lot of calico. Occasionally great
swells, like the chief or the doctor, got a whole
blanket. These doctors or medicine-men used to
have tremendous power in the tribe, but this has
much diminished before the advance of civilisation.
Their initiation into their full M.D. degree used to
consist in a prolonged solitary fast in the forests,
till, overtaken by a sort of frenzy, they rushed back
to the village, where such people as desired to<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</SPAN></span>
show a fine religious fervour would offer their arms
for the doctor to take bites out of. Other Indians
when dead are cremated, but the doctors are
buried in a little wooden hut in some isolated spot,
or on a point of rock overlooking the sea; and of
late years these huts have been ruthlessly ravaged
for curios, since the doctor’s charms and other
implements are always buried with him; but if the
sacrilegious prowler was caught it would be very
awkward for him in a wild place like Yakutat. The
common American term for these medicine-men is
<i>shaman</i>, apparently a corruption of the Russian
<i>shawaan</i>, but the Tlinkits themselves use the word
<i>icht</i>. The doctor at Yakutat was a filthy old
scoundrel, with hair about six feet long; he had
been half-blind for years, having at one time
headed an attack against a French storekeeper
(named, I believe, Belœil, but the men always
spoke of him as Bellew), who had checked the
onslaught with a well-aimed dose of sulphuric
acid.</p>
<p>During the potlatch sundry relics of the
deceased made their appearance, and were wept
over with much emotion, genuine tears being<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</SPAN></span>
produced in abundance. Some of the old men,
who had nothing else, gave tobacco, a small pinch
being put in the fire each time for the spirits of
the departed.</p>
<p><i>Friday, the 17th.</i>—Dull and grey, and threatening
rain. Yesterday and to-day the flies were
something fearful, and we had even to walk up
and down when feeding, while any liquid, such as
soup or tea, was thick with them. As the baking-powder
was all but finished, Finn, who was supposed
to be rather good at the art, was deputed to
make sour-dough bread, but it was not much of
a success, resembling plain heavy buns. The
leaven was presumably too new, for afterwards it
worked admirably.</p>
<p>The Indians began their feast about four
o’clock. Each man had his own bowl, while by
the fire were large dishes full of rice, berries
cooked in seal-oil, and what looked like some preparation
of fish. After a brief invocation a little
of each was put in the fire, and then the bowls
were filled and they began. I was over on the
island by myself, and H. came across in the
smallest canoe to fetch me. Half-way over we<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</SPAN></span>
met E. in another, who, unaware that his brother
had started, was coming over with the same
intention, and, instead of being pleased at not
having to go any further, seemed to consider
himself aggrieved. We often saw Siwash dogs
swimming across, the distance being quite a mile.
In the morning we purchased through Mike two
salmon for ten cents, which sounds cheap, but
after all the money was wasted, as a few minutes
later Billy and Matthew turned up in a canoe with
two dozen they had speared, so we took six of the
best.</p>
<p><i>Saturday, the 18th.</i>—Raining all day, with some
very heavy showers, so we stayed in the Mission
most of the time. The house consisted of one
furnished room, which Hendrickson and Lydell
inhabited, one unfurnished one, which they politely
put at our disposal, and another large one, at that
time unfloored, which was to be the school-room.
We said we would sleep in the house as the
weather was so bad, but at supper-time it cleared
a bit, and H. elected to stay in the green tent. E.
and I went in and rolled up in our blankets on
the floor, which was distinctly hard. In the other<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</SPAN></span>
room Hendrickson was reading to Lydell the story
of Elisha and the Shunammite woman, rendered
apparently into easy English for children. His
accent was certainly most peculiar, and E., after
listening a bit, remarked, ‘A great many sibilants
in that language, aren’t there?’ being under the
impression that Hendrickson was sticking to his
native Swedish. I roared so that I feared they
would come and ask what was the matter, but
luckily they didn’t.</p>
<p><i>Sunday, the 19th.</i>—Rain nearly all night and
most of the day. E. and I got up about six
o’clock, roused by the men coming back with
clams, for which the tide suited. Last evening my
watch began to go in a feeble manner and made
three hours during the night. In the afternoon E.
and I played a curious form of cricket on the beach
with a wooden net-float for a ball, an axe-handle
for a bat, and two ice-axes for wickets. Having
smashed two balls, we had to desist, though not
before E. had defeated me with great slaughter.</p>
<p><i>Monday, the 20th.</i>—Wind still south-east, but
no ‘Alpha.’ We were getting thoroughly sick of
our enforced imprisonment in this place, where<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</SPAN></span>
there was literally nothing to do, the village being
hopelessly surrounded by bush, and so far from
the mountains that no hunting or exploring was
possible, for fear the ‘Alpha’ should arrive while
we were away. Tremendous rain all the afternoon,
which cleared as usual about six o’clock. The
wind, however, seemed rather more south-west.</p>
<p><i>Tuesday, the 21st.</i>—Lovely morning at last, but
hardly any wind. My watch still kept going, but
only very slowly between the hours of seven and
eleven, something evidently clogging the works.
Ned’s canoe, the one we had at Icy Bay, was
going back to Juneau next day, which offered a
means of escape, but he was taking a cargo of
seal-oil! Shorty, however, wanted to go, but we
preferred to keep him. De Groff came to supper,
and we had some whist afterwards, keeping it up
till the extraordinarily late hour of half-past ten,
when he took his departure by the light of a lovely
full moon.</p>
<p><i>Wednesday, the 22nd.</i>—Perfect weather again.
Shorty had sold the rifle he bought from W. to
Sub-chief George, and Finn E.’s to Frank, a friend
of Ned’s. This breach of the law rather annoyed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</SPAN></span>
us, as we naturally thought the men had purchased
the rifles to keep, but we saw no good in interfering,
now that the deed was done. Our four Indians
came over about breakfast-time to take E. salmon-spearing,
and reported that Ned had not taken his
departure last night, so I said I would go with
him and take Finn to look after me. H. then
proposed that I should take our Indians, who were
eating their heads off to no purpose, and Shorty
suggested that we might buy a canoe and all go
down together, so we went over to Yakutat to
make inquiries. De Groff admitted that all agreement
with him was over on the 20th, and seemed
to have but little hope of the ‘Alpha’s’ turning up
now, but believed that the ‘Leo,’ or even the
‘Pinta,’ would come for us. Canoes were to be
bought for a hundred and twenty or a hundred
and fifty dollars, but H. was rather unwilling to go
in one, so we came back at two o’clock for E.’s
opinion, but he had not returned.</p>
<p>We began boiling bacon, and started Finn on
a big batch of bread. E. came back at four with
a fair lot of fish; unable to quite settle, though
against the canoe idea on the whole, he and H.<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</SPAN></span>
went over to Yakutat to decide and to fetch
Shorty, while Finn and I went on cooking. They
returned at 7.30, having concluded not to go, and
the Siwashes refused to come in the canoe unless
H. did, saying they had not made an agreement
with me but with him. As they were all
accustomed to canoes, and Matthew had done the
trip twice before, I do not think they were afraid
(except perhaps of hard work), but merely that
they found themselves in very comfortable quarters
at Yakutat, drawing full pay and doing very little
for it, and wished to prolong that happy state of
things as long as possible. Ned was willing to
take any number of passengers to Juneau for ten
dollars each, but after much discussion it was at
last settled that I should take Lyons, Shorty, and
Finn, and try to get Ned to go to Sitka; so I
went over about ten o’clock with the two former
and routed out Ned, who agreed to take us to
Sitka for eighty dollars, half down. As most of
the people in the Chief’s house were asleep, we
curled up <i>sub Jove frigido</i> on the stoop, and were
soon asleep.</p>
<hr />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</SPAN></span></p>
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