“Fine, chief! Pass the word to Lieutenant Chipp to belay any more coaling. He’s to knock off immediately and start washing down. Here’s where we get back one of those lost days, anyway.” De Long regarded me with positive cheerfulness. “We’ll sail tomorrow! If the Fanny Hyde’s going to carry twenty tons for us to Siberia, she might as well carry the whole fifty that’s still aboard her! So instead of coaling here any more, we’ll quit right now, swing ship in the morning to check our compasses, then load furs, stores, and dogs in the afternoon, and sail tomorrow night from this God-forsaken hole! How’ll that suit you, chief?”
“Brother, full ahead on that!” I exclaimed. “You’ll never get St. Michael’s hull down any too soon for me!”
So to the intense relief of the crew, Jack Cole was soon piping down coaling gear. The schooner cast loose, shoved off, and anchored clear, and as darkness fell the hoses were playing everywhere over the Jeannette’s topsides, washing down, while from every scupper a black stream poured into the clear waters of the bay, as a welcome by-product effectively putting an end to any more fishing in our vicinity.
Our last day at St. Michael’s was perhaps our busiest.
In the morning, steaming slowly round the harbor, we swung ship for compass deviations, with Danenhower hunching his burly shoulders constantly over the binnacle while Chipp at the pelorus took bearings of the sun. By noon this essential task was completed and we anchored again, commencing immediately after mess gear was stowed to receive stores from ashore.
The display of furs we received, made up now into clothing, of seal, mink, beaver, deer, wolf, Arctic squirrel, and fox, all to be worn by rough seamen, would have caused pangs of jealousy among the ladies on Fifth Avenue, who would have lingered long over each sleek garment, lovingly caressing its velvety softness. But instead of that, disregarded by everyone in our haste, down the hatch shot our furs, our only concern being to get them aboard and weigh anchor.
Following the clothing came aboard assorted cargo—forty Eskimo dogs, five dog sleds, forty sets of dog harness, four dozen pairs of snowshoes, sixty-nine pairs of sealskin boots, ton after ton of compressed fish for dog food, three small Eskimo skin boats called baideras, and numberless odds and ends; while to top off all, as a personal gift Mr. Newman insisted on presenting to the captain a very handsomely silver-mounted Winchester repeating rifle and eight hundred rounds of ammunition for it.
Last but not least important, came aboard some new members of our crew, two Alaskan Indians from St. Michael’s. This pair, Alexey and Aneguin, carefully selected on the recommendation of the entire white population of St. Michael’s (all four of them), were after a lengthy pow-wow over terms with the headman of the native village shipped as hunters and dog-drivers. Alexey, as senior hunter, was to be paid twenty dollars a month; Aneguin, his assistant, as a hunter’s mate (to put it in nautical parlance) was to receive fifteen; and each was to draw from the company store an outfit worth fifty dollars to start with and on discharge to receive a Winchester rifle and 1000 cartridges. To the wife of Alexey and to the mother of Aneguin, thus deprived of their support, were to be issued at the Jeannette’s expense from the Alaska Company’s store, provisions to the value of five dollars each monthly until their men should finally be returned to St. Michael’s.
These terms being finally settled to the satisfaction of all, Alexey and Aneguin reported aboard at 5 P.M., both for the first time in their lives dressed in “store clothes” which they had just drawn from Mr. Newman’s stock, and proud as peacocks in shiny black Russian hats, topped with flaming red bands. Alexey (who to the best of my knowledge, aside from our captain, was the only married man aboard) was accompanied by his Indian wife, a small, shy, pretty woman in furs oddly contrasting with her husband’s stiffly worn civilized raiment, and by his little boy. Tightly holding each other’s hands, this tiny Alaskan group drifted wonderingly over the ship, children all in their open-mouthed curiosity; while Aneguin, accompanied by his chief and a delegation of natives come to see him off, was just as naive in exclaiming over everything he saw, and the excitement of all reached a high pitch when Captain De Long presented to Alexey’s shrinking little wife a china cup and saucer with “U.S.N.” in gold on it, and to her little boy, a harmonica.
As evening drew on and the hour for departure approached, Alexey and his wife, seated on a sea chest on the poop, clung silently to each other, till at the hoarse call of the bosun, “All visitors ashore!” accompanied by significant gestures toward the rail, they parted affectionately—and forever.