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Woman Who Went to Alaska, A

<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> <h3>SWARMING.</h3> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/da.png" width-obs="56" height-obs="150" alt="A" title="A" /></div> RCTIC explorers have always found it a difficult matter to keep pleasantly and profitably employed during the long winter months, and I have often wondered how it would be with ourselves. So far, there seems to be no scarcity of employment for all hands, neither is there any prospect of it. For the men there is always the beach-wood to collect, haul and saw up into firewood, not to mention the splitting with an axe, which is, I believe, as hard work as any of it, and there is water to bring in barrels each day or two from Chinik Creek, a mile away, for drinking and cooking purposes. The barrels are put upon sleds and hauled by the men themselves, or by the dogs if they happen to be here, and are not at work. As to the reindeer, of course there can be no such thing as making them haul either wood or water, for none could be found steady enough, and should the experiment be tried, there are ten chances to one that not a stick of wood would remain upon the sleds, nor a drop of water in the barrels, while the distance between creek and Mission was being made. Of course there is always enough for women to do if they are housekeeping, and with sewing, knitting and what recreation we take out of doors, we fill in the time very well. It is much better and pleasanter to be employed, and the time passes much more rapidly than when one is idle, and I for one enjoy the change of work and the winter's outlook immensely. Compared to what we have done in Nome during the summer, this is child's play, and the boys who have worked at real mining say the same thing. November seventeenth: We have had our first lady visitor today who came from White Mountain about fifteen miles away. She is the lady doctor who brought Miss J. through typhoid fever last fall, and is much at home here. She was sent for by a sick woman in the hotel, and will spend the night with Miss J., who is very kind to her. The visiting preacher left for the Home this morning very early, going with a native and reindeer. Mr. L. and B. were called in to the jury trial of the murderer who killed the man in the hotel the other night, and they got home late. The girls were out upon the ice in the evening for exercise, getting tired of being indoors all day long, and needing fresh air. When all were in at half-past eleven in the evening, coffee and crackers were taken by all but me, but I have had to leave off drinking coffee, taking hot water with cream and sugar instead. B. says he thinks the latter too stimulating. <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/267t.jpg" width-obs="400" height-obs="289" alt="" title="" /> ESKIMO DOGS.</div> This has been a bright and cold Sunday for November eighteenth. Mr. H. walked in to nine o'clock breakfast from the Home, coming by dog-team, and looked well dressed and smiling. No service was held until evening, so we went out for a walk upon the hill behind the house. B. and L. left us to go and examine some wood that natives were hauling away from the beach, thinking it was some of theirs, for each stick is marked, so they know their own; but it proved not to be their wood, and the two then came home another way. While out, we walked through the small burial ground, and saw the new-made grave of the murdered man. O, how desolate was that spot! A few mounds, stones, snow and bleak winds forever blowing. Here we read a headboard, upon which was the name and age of good old Dr. Bingham of New England, who died here years ago, and whose wife planted wild roses upon the grave. I wonder if we will see them in bloom next summer, or will we be under the snow ourselves like these others. For our dinner today we ate fried tom-cod, baked potatoes, tomatoes, pickles, bread and butter, and rice pudding. I feel positive that nothing could have tasted better to our home folks in the States who have more fruit and vegetables than did this plain and homely meal to us, eaten with the heartiest appetites gotten out of doors while walking in the snow. The ice in the bay is getting firmer, and will continue to grow thicker all winter, being in the spring at breaking-up time many feet through, no doubt, as it was in Minnesota in the Red River of the North when I lived there. I am glad that I am a cold climate creature, and was born in winter in a wintry state, for I will be sure to endure Alaska weather better than I otherwise would. This evening we had service again in the church or schoolhouse, and the room was quite filled. The woman doctor was there, also the storekeeper and the United States Marshal, besides our own family, and a good many natives. Mr. H. preached, and was interpreted in Eskimo as usual. I wish some of my fastidious friends on the outside could have seen the cosmopolitan company of tonight. The refined and serious face of the storekeeper, the black-eyed doctor (woman), the fair-faced Swedes, and the square-jawed, determined official, made a striking contrast to the Eskimos dressed in fur parkies, and smelling of seal oil. Many of the latter continually carry small children on their backs underneath their parkies, a heavy belt or girdle of some sort keeping the youngster from falling to the ground, but the smaller ones are seldom brought out in the evening. These women squat upon the floor as often as they sit upon a chair, and when a baby cries from hunger he is promptly fed on ahmahmuk, (mother's milk,) regardless of the assembled company. With an Eskimo mother nothing comes before the child's wishes, and if the latter only succeeds in making his desires known to her, she will obey them to the letter. That there are unruly Eskimo youngsters, goes without saying, as a child does not need a white skin to help him understand this, and arrange his tactics accordingly. The Mission is crowded to its utmost, but I believe the hearts of the good missionaries are made of elastic. When we reached the house after service this evening we heard that a mail was expected, and would leave for Dawson tomorrow, so we set to work to write letters, and then found it all a mistake, for it is only going to Nome from Unalaklik, and we were all disappointed. The weather today, November seventeenth, is a great surprise to us. It is raining, and so icy underfoot as to be positively dangerous to life and limb. I had occasion to go out for a while this forenoon, and knew no better than to wear my muckluks, which are smooth as glass on the bottoms. To make things more lively, the wind blew a gale from the northeast. When I left the house, I was going in the same direction as the wind, and though I nearly fell many times I kept stubbornly on, determined not to be vanquished. On my return—then came the "tug of war." Near the warehouse a gust of wind took me unawares, and, whisk! in a minute I was sprawling flat upon the ice. I had gone out with my Indian blanket over my head and shoulders, and this blew out like a sail, upsetting my tall and slippery footed craft, and bumping me ignominiously. I now tried to rise, but could not. Turn as I would, using my hands to steady me, I only made a vain effort to get upon my feet, as I slipped each time quite flat again. Thinking to turn first, and get upon my knees, I tried that, but rolled like a fuzzy caterpillar in a ball upon the ice. Then, alas, I regret to relate it, but I really began to feel a little vexed. I began calling loudly, supposing that someone in the house would hear me, and come to my assistance; but the wind carried my voice away faster than I could throw it, and that availed me nothing. At no other time since my arrival at the Mission I felt certain had there been so long a lull between the passing of its inmates through its doors; but now, because of my present strait, they all remained indoors. In the meantime I had thrown my hands out suddenly into water which stood in little pools in depressions of the ice around me, and I lay there getting more vexed than ever. Again I tried to rise, but failed. A stranger would suppose me tipsy, to be sure, and I glanced around to make certain no one saw me. Finally the door opened, and Miss L. came out. "What is the matter?" and she began laughing at my predicament. "Matter enough!" I shouted. "Can't you see? I can't get up to save my life. Do come and help me," and I began struggling upon my slippery bed again to convince her. Still she only laughed, standing in the wind with her hands upon her hips in order to keep her balance. "Do come and help me," I begged, "or go in and send one of the boys, for I shall stay here all day if you do not." When she had her laugh out, she came forward and assisted me to my feet, and into the house, where I finally smoothed my ruffled feathers, and recovered my equanimity, telling Miss L. I would pay her back in her own coin when I got the opportunity. A native has come with reindeer to carry a load of goods to the Home, but cannot leave on account of the icy trail until tomorrow, or whenever it freezes again. Today is November twenty-first, and the weather is still soft and bad under foot, so the family cannot move to the Home until the trail is in better condition. B. shot more ptarmigan, and we had a dinner of them, which was excellent. They almost seem too pretty to kill, but fresh meat is scarce nowadays, and we must take it when we can get it. November twenty-second has come, and with it colder weather. It is five degrees below zero, and the sun shines. The doctor from White Mountain has been helping Miss J. pack her large medicine chest ready for moving, as many of these supplies will be left in this house. Since the days are colder we have most beautiful skies at sunrise, though we now keep the lamps burning until half-past eight in the morning. We have heard that the Nome mail is in, but it brought nothing to me. We are writing letters to send out the first chance we get, whenever that will be, but nobody knows so far. The Commissioner called today and told us of a new strike at the headwaters of Fish River; a man and woman coming down to record a bunch of twenty claims having given the information. The woman runs a roadhouse on the Neukluk River, and wants to take an Eskimo boy to raise, and teach to work—probably it is mostly the latter, though she seemed a kindly person. Miss J. told her that she had no boy to give away. The Marshal and the man in the old schoolhouse started with dogs to Norton Bay today for a short trip, so we hear. The wife of the man went with small Eskimo boys to the bay to fish for tom-cod. Alma is making a fur sleeping bag of reindeer skins for the teacher, so when she travels she can have it to sleep in nights. It is very heavy to hold and handle while sewing. Two men called who have been shipwrecked in Norton Bay, and told of the H. family, consisting of the father, mother, and little daughter whom I have seen in Nome. They lost all their clothing, but saved part of their "grub," and we have made up a package of clothing to send to the woman and child by the men who are going back there. In the darkness, one night, they say the schooner "Lady George" went aground on the mud flats of Norton Bay, the tide rising soon after, and all having to flee for their lives to nearby ice, from which they went ashore to a log hut long ago deserted. The child, who is about twelve years old, is now without clothing, and winter is coming on. The fates are hard on some people, surely, and this little girl lately from San Francisco, the public school, and piano lessons, is left with her parents in an Arctic wilderness in winter without clothing or shelter, except a poor broken hut, and a few men's garments generously donated. The men say that her mother is almost wild over it, and they thought at first that she would go insane, but the brave little child does all she can do to comfort her mother, and the men begged us to send them some things. Among the clothing we sent I put in a few school books, a slate, some pencils, and a Bible, which may be of use in lonely hours. They may read the good book now if they never have before. They are Swedish people. It is three degrees below zero today, November twenty-fifth, clear, bright and cold. Mr. H. came with a man and his dog-teams to move the whole family tomorrow to the Home. All are delighted to go there, as we are to remain here. The shipwrecked men called again to tell us more fully about their experiences, and are now going back to their camp. They certainly had an awful time, but they are glad and thankful to have come out alive, and we are also glad for their sakes. Two of the Commissioners have been here, one from fifty miles away, wanting to buy a reindeer for his Thanksgiving dinner, but Mr. H. would not sell one. He has been very urgent, and called a number of times, but Mr. H. is firm in refusing. Our good dinner today was made up of mutton stew with onions, baked potatoes, tomatoes, fruit soup, bread, butter and coffee. I have taken a few kodak views today of Miss J. and the Eskimo baby, Bessie, and hope they will be good. November twenty-sixth: It is ten degrees below zero, but the whole household was up early this morning to move over the ice to the new Home. Four big dog sleds were piled high with household things, the baby was tucked into a fur sleeping-bag with only her head out, at which she howled lustily, Miss J. running beside the team to comfort her, while Mr. H., his assistant and Ivan, with Mr. G. of our party, ran ahead of the dogs. Breakfast was eaten at eight o'clock in the morning, and all was hurly burly and excitement till they had gone. Ricka, Alma and I ran out to the beach to see them off upon the ice, as then they would have fair traveling, but we were afraid they would tip everything over at the bank where the drifts are high, and blocks of ice piled in places. Everything was lashed tightly down, however, and no accident occurred. All the children but Bessie ran alongside the sleds to keep warm, and they had lunches with them to eat when they were hungry. When the smaller ones grew tired, I suppose they rode for a while on the sleds. It was eleven o'clock in the morning, and the bright sun shone directly in our faces as we stood waving good-bye to them, really sorry to see them leave us. The hills, almost bare of snow, lay pink and lovely under the sunshine. After lunch M. went out, slipped on the ice and fractured his collar bone. The Dawson man in the old schoolhouse, (who claims to be a doctor), brought him indoors, but poor M. was pretty pale. The man, with G.'s help, attended to his hurt, put his arm in a sling, and he is lying on the lounge looking serious, but not discontented nor suffering severely. We were not to have so small a family many hours, as we found at about five o'clock in the afternoon today, when there was a great commotion at the door. There were men's voices, a woman's jolly laughter, and the quick barking of dogs, glad to reach their journey's end, and when we opened the door to those knocking, there were Mary and two friends from Nome with their dog-teams. In they came, laughing, talking and brushing the frost off their parkies, glad to get here, and hungry from traveling, so we gave them a warm welcome, and good hot coffee and supper. Then Mary, (real Viking that she is, and from Tromso, in Norway,) related the story of her journey by dog-team. Eighty-five miles, they call it, from Nome by water to Chinik, but overland it is probably farther. Nights were spent in the roadhouses, she said, but there was little sleep to be had in them, for they were crowded and noisy, and she was thankful the trip was now ended, and she had safely arrived. The two young men who came with her seem nice, honest fellows, and I am acquainted with one of them from seeing him at the "Star" many times, where he often ground coffee to help evenings, or chatted in the kitchen when we worked. From Nome they had brought two sled loads, on one of them a cook stove for the winter, as the big range in use here now will go later to the Home, besides which they had food supplies and stove pipes. At night Mr. L. came back from the reindeer station, saying that they can have four reindeer for their prospecting trip to the Koyuk River, and they are making up their party to go there. November twenty-seventh: I was washing the dishes this morning in the kitchen, when Mr. L. came quietly to say he will take my attorney paper and stake a gold claim for me. He will do his best, he says, for me as well as the others, for which I cordially thanked him, and flew on wings to get the desired paper made out, as the others were also doing. At half-past three o'clock in the afternoon today the lamps were lighted, and at four o'clock in the afternoon a mail got in from Nome, but brought no letters for me, as all steamers have long since stopped running, and I am not corresponding with any one at Nome. I wonder when I will hear from my home folks? Our legal documents cost us each $2.50. November twenty-eighth: This has been a fine day out of doors, and a busy one indoors. Mr. H. with a man and two natives came with the dog-teams to take what household stuff they could carry, and they took the organ with the rest. I hated to see it go, but we are to have the one in the church, which G. has just cleaned and brought into the house, as the frost in that building is bad for it. They loaded their sleds, then ate a lunch at half-past eleven o'clock in the morning, and started. The two boys from Nome also left for that place, they being quite rested, as well as their dogs. Drilling parkies they wore to "mush" in, their furs and other traps being lashed to the sleds; and bidding us good-bye, one ran ahead, and the other behind the dogs. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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