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Travels in Alaska

J >> John Muir >> Travels in Alaska




Then followed all sorts of questions from the old chief. He wanted to
know what Professor Davidson had been trying to do a year or two ago
on a mountain-top back of the village, with many strange things
looking at the sun when it grew dark in the daytime; and we had to
try to explain eclipses. He asked us if we could tell him what made
the water rise and fall twice a day, and we tried to explain that the
sun and moon attracted the sea by showing how a magnet attracted iron.

Mr. Young, as usual, explained the object of his visit and requested
that the people might be called together in the evening to hear his
message. Accordingly all were told to wash, put on their best
clothing, and come at a certain hour. There was an audience of about
two hundred and fifty, to whom Mr. Young I preached. Toyatte led in
prayer, while Kadachan and John joined in the singing of several
hymns. At the conclusion of the religious exercises the chief made a
short address of thanks, and finished with a request for the message
of the other chief. I again tried in vain to avoid a speech by
telling the interpreter to explain that I was only traveling to see
the country, the glaciers, and mountains and forests, etc., but these
subjects, strange to say, seemed to be about as interesting as the
gospel, and I had to delivery sort of lecture on the fine foodful
country God had given them and the brotherhood of man, along the same
general lines I had followed at other villages. Some five similar
meetings were held here, two of them in the daytime, and we began to
feel quite at home in the big block-house with our hospitable and
warlike friends.

At the last meeting an old white-haired shaman of grave and venerable
aspect, with a high wrinkled forehead, big, strong Roman nose and
light-colored skin, slowly and with great dignity arose and spoke for
the first time.

"I am an old man," he said, "but I am glad to listen to those strange
things you tell, and they may well be true, for what is more
wonderful than the flight of birds in the air? I remember the first
white man I ever saw. Since that long, long-ago time I have seen
many, but never until now have I ever truly known and felt a white
man's heart. All the white men I have heretofore met wanted to get
something from us. They wanted furs and they wished to pay for them
as small a price as possible. They all seemed to be seeking their own
good--not our good. I might say that through all my long life I have
never until now heard a white man speak. It has always seemed to me
while trying to speak to traders and those seeking gold-mines that it
was like speaking to a person across a broad stream that was running
fast over stones and making so loud a noise that scarce a single word
could be heard. But now, for the first time, the Indian and the white
man are on the same side of the river, eye to eye, heart to heart. I
have always loved my people. I have taught them and ministered to
them as well as I could. Hereafter, I will keep silent and listen to
the good words of the missionaries, who know God and the places we go
to when we die so much better than I do."

At the close of the exercises, after the last sermon had been
preached and the last speech of the Indian chief and headmen had been
made, a number of the sub-chiefs were talking informally together.
Mr. Young, anxious to know what impression he had made on the tribe
with reference to mission work, requested John to listen and tell him
what was being said.

"They are talking about Mr. Muir's speech," he reported. "They say he
knows how to talk and beats the preacher far." Toyatte also, with a
teasing smile, said: "Mr. Young, mika tillicum hi yu tola wawa" (your
friend leads you far in speaking).

Later, when the sending of a missionary and teacher was being
considered, the chief said they wanted me, and, as an inducement,
promised that if I would come to them they would always do as I
directed, follow my councils, give me as many wives as I liked, build
a church and school, and pick all the stones out of the paths and
make them smooth for my feet.

They were about to set out on an expedition to the Hootsenoos to
collect blankets as indemnity or blood-money for the death of a
Chilcat woman from drinking whiskey furnished by one of the Hootsenoo
tribe. In case of their refusal to pay, there would be fighting, and
one of the chiefs begged that we would pray them good luck, so that
no one would be killed. This he asked as a favor, after begging that
we would grant permission to go on this expedition, promising that
they would avoid bloodshed if possible. He spoke in a very natural
and easy tone and manner always serene and so much of a polished
diplomat that all polish was hidden. The younger chief stood while
speaking, the elder sat on the floor. None of the congregation had a
word to say, though they gave approving nods and shrugs.

The house was packed at every meeting, two a day. Some climbed on the
roof to listen around the smoke opening. I tried in vain to avoid
speechmaking, but, as usual, I had to say something at every meeting.
I made five speeches here, all of which seemed to be gladly heard,
particularly what I said on the different kinds of white men and
their motives, and their own kindness and good manners in making
strangers feel at home in their houses.

The chief had a slave, a young and good-looking girl, who waited on
him, cooked his food, lighted his pipe for him, etc. Her servitude
seemed by no means galling. In the morning, just before we left on
the return trip, interpreter John overheard him telling her that
after the teacher came from Wrangell, he was going to dress her well
and send her to school and use her in every way as if she were his
own daughter. Slaves are still owned by the richest of the Thlinkits.
Formerly, many of them were sacrificed on great occasions, such as
the opening of a new house or the erection of a totem pole. Kadachan
ordered John to take a pair of white blankets out of his trunk and
wrap them about the chief's shoulders, as he sat by the fire. This
gift was presented without ceremony or saying a single word. The
chief scarcely noticed the blankets, only taking a corner in his
hand, as if testing the quality of the wool. Toyatte had been an
inveterate enemy and fighter of the Chilcats, but now, having joined
the church, he wished to forget the past and bury all the hard feuds
and be universally friendly and peaceful. It was evident, however,
that he mistrusted the proud and warlike Chilcats and doubted the
acceptance of his friendly advances, and as we approached their
village became more and more thoughtful.

"My wife said that my old enemies would be sure to kill me. Well,
never mind. I am an old man and may as well die as not." He was
troubled with palpitation, and oftentimes, while he suffered, he put
his hand over his heart and said, "I hope the Chilcats will shoot me
here."

Before venturing up the river to the principal village, located some
ten miles up the river, we sent Sitka Charley and one of the young
Chilcats as messengers to announce our arrival and inquire whether we
would be welcome to visit them, informing the chief that both
Kadachan and Toyatte were Mr. Young's friends and mine, that we were
"all one meat" and any harm done them would also be done to us.

While our messengers were away, I climbed a pure-white, dome-crowned
mountain about fifty-five hundred feet high and gained noble telling
views to the northward of the main Chilcat glaciers and the multitude
of mighty peaks from which they draw their sources. At a height of
three thousand feet I found a mountain hemlock, considerably dwarfed,
in company with Sitka spruce and the common hemlock, the tallest
about twenty feet high, sixteen inches in diameter. A few stragglers
grew considerably higher, say at about four thousand feet. Birch and
two-leaf pine were common.

The messengers returned next day, bringing back word that we would
all be heartily welcomed excepting Toyatte; that the guns were loaded
and ready to be fired to welcome us, but that Toyatte, having
insulted a Chilcat chief not long ago in Wrangell, must not come.
They also informed us in their message that they were very busy
merrymaking with other visitors, Sitka Jack and his friends, but that
if we could get up to the village through the running ice on the
river, they would all be glad to see us; they had been drinking and
Kadachan's father, one of the principal chiefs, said plainly that he
had just waked up out of a ten days' sleep. We were anxious to make
this visit, but, taking the difficulties and untoward circumstances
into account, the danger of being frozen in at so late a time, while
Kadachan would not be able to walk back on account of a shot in his
foot, the danger also from whiskey, the awakening of old feuds on
account of Toyatte's presence, etc., we reluctantly concluded to
start back on the home journey at once. This was on Friday and a fair
wind was blowing, but our crew, who loved dearly to rest and eat in
these big hospitable houses, all said that Monday would be hyas klosh
for the starting-day. I insisted, however, on starting Saturday
morning, and succeeded in getting away from our friends at ten
o'clock. Just as we were leaving, the chief who had entertained us
so handsomely requested a written document to show that he had not
killed us, so in case we were lost on the way home he could not be
held accountable in any way for our death.



Chapter XII

The Return to Fort Wrangell


The day of our start for Wrangell was bright and the Hoon, the north
wind, strong. We passed around the east side of the larger island
which lies near the south extremity of the point of land between the
Chilcat and the Chilcoot channels and thence held a direct course
down the east shore of the canal. At sunset we encamped in a small
bay at the head of a beautiful harbor three or four miles south of
Berner's Bay, and the next day, being Sunday, we remained in camp as
usual, though the wind was fair and it is not a sin to go home. The
Indians spent most of the day in washing, mending, eating, and
singing hymns with Mr. Young, who also gave them a Bible lesson,
while I wrote notes and sketched. Charley made a sweathouse and all
the crew got good baths. This is one of the most delightful little
bays we have thus far enjoyed, girdled with tall trees whose branches
almost meet, and with views of pure-white mountains across the broad,
river-like canal.

Seeing smoke back in the dense woods, we went ashore to seek it and
discovered a Hootsenoo whiskey-factory in full blast. The Indians
said that an old man, a friend of theirs, was about to die and they
were making whiskey for his funeral.

Our Indians were already out of oily flesh, which they regard as a
necessity and consume in enormous quantities. The bacon was nearly
gone and they eagerly inquired for flesh at every camp we passed.
Here we found skinned carcasses of porcupines and a heap of wild
mutton lying on the confused hut floor. Our cook boiled the
porcupines in a big pot with a lot of potatoes we obtained at the
same hut, and although the potatoes were protected by their skins,
the awfully wild penetrating porcupine flavor found a way through the
skins and flavored them to the very heart. Bread and beans and dried
fruit we had in abundance, and none of these rank aboriginal dainties
ever came nigh any meal of mine. The Indians eat the hips of wild
roses entire like berries, and I was laughed at for eating only the
outside of this fruit and rejecting the seeds.

When we were approaching the village of the Auk tribe, venerable
Toyatte seemed to be unusually pensive, as if weighed down by some
melancholy thought. This was so unusual that I waited attentively to
find out the cause of his trouble.

When at last he broke silence it was to say, "Mr. Young, Mr.
Young,"--he usually repeated the name,--"I hope you will not stop at
the Auk village."

"Why, Toyatte?" asked Mr. Young.

"Because they are a bad lot, and preaching to them can do no good."

"Toyatte," said Mr. Young, "have you forgotten what Christ said to
his disciples when he charged them to go forth and preach the gospel
to everybody; and that we should love our enemies and do good to
those who use us badly?"

"Well," replied Toyatte, "if you preach to them, you must not call on
me to pray, because I cannot pray for Auks."

"But the Bible says we should pray for all men, however bad they may
be."

"Oh, yes, I know that, Mr. Young; I know it very well. But Auks are
not men, good or bad,--they are dogs."

It was now nearly dark and quite so ere we found a harbor, not far
from the fine Auk Glacier which descends into the narrow channel that
separates Douglas Island from the mainland. Two of the Auks followed
us to our camp after eight o'clock and inquired into our object in
visiting them, that they might carry the news to their chief. One of
the chief's houses is opposite our camp a mile or two distant, and we
concluded to call on him next morning.

I wanted to examine the Auk Glacier in the morning, but tried to be
satisfied with a general view and sketch as we sailed around its wide
fan-shaped front. It is one of the most beautiful of all the coast
glaciers that are in the first stage of decadence. We called on the
Auk chief at daylight, when he was yet in bed, but he arose
goodnaturedly, put on a calico shirt, drew a blanket around his legs,
and comfortably seated himself beside a small fire that gave light
enough to show his features and those of his children and the three
women that one by one came out of the shadows. All listened
attentively to Mr. Young's message of goodwill. The chief was a
serious, sharp-featured, dark-complexioned man, sensible-looking and
with good manners. He was very sorry, he said, that his people had
been drinking in his absence and had used us so ill; he would like to
hear us talk and would call his people together if we would return to
the village. This offer we had to decline. We gave him good words and
tobacco and bade him good-bye.

The scenery all through the channel is magnificent, something like
Yosemite Valley in its lofty avalanche-swept wall cliffs, especially
on the mainland side, which are so steep few trees can find footing.
The lower island side walls are mostly forested. The trees are
heavily draped with lichens, giving the woods a remarkably gray,
ancient look. I noticed a good many two-leafed pines in boggy spots.
The water was smooth, and the reflections of the lofty walls striped
with cascades were charmingly distinct.

It was not easy to keep my crew full of wild flesh. We called at an
Indian summer camp on the mainland about noon, where there were three
very squalid huts crowded and jammed full of flesh of many colors and
smells, among which we discovered a lot of bright fresh trout, lovely
creatures about fifteen inches long, their sides adorned with vivid
red spots. We purchased five of them and a couple of salmon for a box
of gun-caps and a little tobacco. About the middle of the afternoon
we passed through a fleet of icebergs, their number increasing as we
neared the mouth of the Taku Fiord, where we camped, hoping to
explore the fiord and see the glaciers where the bergs, the first we
had seen since leaving Icy Bay, are derived.

We left camp at six o'clock, nearly an hour before daybreak. My
Indians were glad to find the fiord barred by a violent wind, against
which we failed to make any headway; and as it was too late in the
season to wait for better weather, I reluctantly gave up this
promising work for another year, and directed the crew to go straight
ahead down the coast. We sailed across the mouth of the happy inlet
at fine speed, keeping a man at the bow to look out for the smallest
of the bergs, not easily seen in the dim light, and another bailing
the canoe as the tops of some of the white caps broke over us. About
two o'clock we passed a large bay or fiord, out of which a violent
wind was blowing, though the main Stephens Passage was calm. About
dusk, when we were all tired and anxious to get into camp, we reached
the mouth of Sum Dum Bay, but nothing like a safe landing could we
find. Our experienced captain was indignant, as well he might be,
because we did not see fit to stop early in the afternoon at a good
camp-ground he had chosen. He seemed determined to give us enough of
night sailing as a punishment to last us for the rest of the voyage.
Accordingly, though the night was dark and rainy and the bay full of
icebergs, he pushed grimly on, saying that we must try to reach an
Indian village on the other side of the bay or an old Indian fort on
an island in the middle of it. We made slow, weary, anxious progress
while Toyatte, who was well acquainted with every feature of this
part of the coast and could find his way in the dark, only laughed at
our misery. After a mile or two of this dismal night work we struck
across toward the island, now invisible, and came near being wrecked
on a rock which showed a smooth round back over which the waves were
breaking. In the hurried Indian shouts that followed and while we
were close against the rock, Mr. Young shouted, as he leaned over
against me, "It's a whale, a whale!" evidently fearing its tail,
several specimens of these animals, which were probably still on his
mind, having been seen in the forenoon. While we were passing along
the east shore of the island we saw a light on the opposite shore, a
joyful sight, which Toyatte took for a fire in the Indian village,
and steered for it. John stood in the bow, as guide through the
bergs. Suddenly, we ran aground on a sand bar. Clearing this, and
running back half a mile or so, we again stood for the light, which
now shone brightly. I thought it strange that Indians should have so
large a fire. A broad white mass dimly visible back of the fire Mr.
Young took for the glow of the fire on the clouds. This proved to be
the front of a glacier. After we had effected a landing and stumbled
up toward the fire over a ledge of slippery, algae-covered rocks, and
through the ordinary tangle of shore grass, we were astonished to
find white men instead of Indians, the first we had seen for a month.
They proved to be a party of seven gold-seekers from Fort Wrangell.
It was now about eight o'clock and they were in bed, but a jolly
Irishman got up to make coffee for us and find out who we were, where
we had come from, where going, and the objects of our travels. We
unrolled our chart and asked for information as to the extent and
features of the bay. But our benevolent friend took great pains to
pull wool over our eyes, and made haste to say that if "ice and
sceneries" were what we were looking for, this was a very poor, dull
place. There were "big rocks, gulches, and sceneries" of a far better
quality down the coast on the way to Wrangell. He and his party were
prospecting, he said, but thus far they had found only a few colors
and they proposed going over to Admiralty Island in the morning to
try their luck.

In the morning, however, when the prospectors were to have gone over
to the island, we noticed a smoke half a mile back on a large stream,
the outlet of the glacier we had seen the night before, and an Indian
told us that the white men were building a big log house up there. It
appeared that they had found a promising placer mine in the moraine
and feared we might find it and spread the news. Daylight revealed a
magnificent fiord that brought Glacier Bay to mind. Miles of bergs
lay stranded on the shores, and the waters of the branch fiords, not
on Vancouver's chart, were crowded with them as far as the eye could
reach. After breakfast we set out to explore an arm of the bay that
trends southeastward, and managed to force a way through the bergs
about ten miles. Farther we could not go. The pack was so close no
open water was in sight, and, convinced at last that this part of my
work would have to be left for another year, we struggled across to
the west side of the fiord and camped.

I climbed a mountain next morning, hoping to gain a view of the great
fruitful glaciers at the head of the fiord or, at least, of their
snowy fountains. But in this also I failed; for at a distance of
about sixteen miles from the mouth of the fiord a change to the
northward in its general trend cut off all its upper course from
sight.

Returning to camp baffled and weary, I ordered all hands to pack up
and get out of the ice as soon as possible. And how gladly was that
order obeyed! Toyatte's grand countenance glowed like a sun-filled
glacier, as he joyfully and teasingly remarked that "the big Sum Dum
ice-mountain had hidden his face from me and refused to let me pay
him a visit." All the crew worked hard boring a way down the west
side of the fiord, and early in the afternoon we reached
comparatively open water near the mouth of the bay. Resting a few
minutes among the drifting bergs, taking last lingering looks at the
wonderful place I might never see again, and feeling sad over my
weary failure to explore it, I was cheered by a friend I little
expected to meet here. Suddenly, I heard the familiar whir of an
ousel's wings, and, looking up, saw my little comforter coming
straight from the shore. In a second or two he was with me, and flew
three times around my head with a happy salute, as if saying, "Cheer
up, old friend, you see I am here and all's well." He then flew back
to the shore, alighted on the topmost jag of a stranded iceberg, and
began to nod and bow as though he were on one of his favorite rocks
in the middle of a sunny California mountain cataract.

Mr. Young regretted not meeting the Indians here, but mission work
also had to be left until next season. Our happy crew hoisted sail
to a fair wind, shouted "Good-bye, Sum Dum!" and soon after dark
reached a harbor a few miles north of Hobart Point.

We made an early start the next day, a fine, calm morning, glided
smoothly down the coast, admiring the magnificent mountains arrayed
in their winter robes, and early in the afternoon reached a lovely
harbor on an island five or six miles north of Cape Fanshawe. Toyatte
predicted a heavy winter storm, though only a mild rain was falling
as yet. Everybody was tired and hungry, and as the voyage was nearing
the end, I consented to stop here. While the shelter tents were being
set up and our blankets stowed under cover, John went out to hunt and
killed a deer within two hundred yards of the camp. When we were at
the camp-fire in Sum Dum Bay, one of the prospectors, replying to Mr.
Young's complaint that they were oftentimes out of meat, asked
Toyatte why he and his men did not shoot plenty of ducks for the
minister. "Because the duck's friend would not let us," said Toyatte;
"when we want to shoot, Mr. Muir always shakes the canoe."

Just as we were passing the south headland of Port Houghton Bay, we
heard a shout, and a few minutes later saw four Indians in a canoe
paddling rapidly after us. In about an hour they overtook us. They
were an Indian, his son, and two women with a load of fish-oil and
dried salmon to sell and trade at Fort Wrangell. They camped within a
dozen yards of us; with their sheets of cedar bark and poles they
speedily made a hut, spread spruce boughs in it for a carpet,
unloaded the canoe, and stored their goods under cover. Toward
evening the old man came smiling with a gift for Toyatte,--a large
fresh salmon, which was promptly boiled and eaten by our captain and
crew as if it were only a light refreshment like a biscuit between
meals. A few minutes after the big salmon had vanished, our generous
neighbor came to Toyatte with a second gift of dried salmon, which
after being toasted a few minutes tranquilly followed the fresh one
as though it were a mere mouthful. Then, from the same generous
hands, came a third gift,--a large milk-panful of huckleberries and
grease boiled together,--and, strange to say, this wonderful mess
went smoothly down to rest on the broad and deep salmon foundation.
Thus refreshed, and appetite sharpened, my sturdy crew made haste to
begin on the buck, beans, bread, etc., and, boiling and roasting,
managed to get comfortably full on but little more than half of it by
sundown, making a good deal of sport of my pity for the deer and
refusing to eat any of it and nicknaming me the ice ancou and the
deer and duck's tillicum.

Sunday was a wild, driving, windy day with but little rain but big
promise of more. I took a walk back in the woods. The timber here is
very fine, about as large as any I have seen in Alaska, much better
than farther north. The Sitka spruce and the common hemlock, one
hundred and fifty and two hundred feet high, are slender and
handsome. The Sitka spruce makes good firewood even when green, the
hemlock very poor. Back a little way from the sea, there was a good
deal of yellow cedar, the best I had yet seen. The largest specimen
that I saw and measured on the trip was five feet three inches in
diameter and about one hundred and forty feet high. In the evening
Mr. Young gave the Indians a lesson, calling in our Indian neighbors.
He told them the story of Christ coming to save the world. The
Indians wanted to know why the Jews had killed him. The lesson was
listened to with very marked attention. Toyatte's generous friend
caught a devil-fish about three feet in diameter to add to his stores
of food. It would be very good, he said, when boiled in berry and
colicon-oil soup. Each arm of this savage animal with its double row
of button-like suction discs closed upon any object brought within
reach with a grip nothing could escape. The Indians tell me that
devil-fish live mostly on crabs, mussels, and clams, the shells of
which they easily crunch with their strong, parrot-like beaks. That
was a wild, stormy, rainy night. How the rain soaked us in our tents!

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