It was on the twelfth day of June that the steam whistle howled at daybreak, and our boat's bell clanged ceaselessly for an hour—how they do love noise over there!—and I brought May and her bundles on board.
The entire population of Dawson City came to the water's edge to see us off, and yell their good wishes to us.
Then as the red sun arose across the yellow river, the stern-wheel began to beat the turbid stream, the ropes were cast off, and we were away.
May and I were at last started for England and home!
CHAPTER XIV.
Our vessel was a curious affair. The hull was a long, square-ended barge. In this was the engine which worked the huge wheel astern. On the deck a large cargo could be carried; over that were cabins, ranged along both sides, with the dining-room between. A railed passage—a balcony—surrounded the vessel on this deck outside the sleeping-rooms, and above all was the hurricane deck, where the passengers mostly passed their time.
The cabins were remarkably clean and comfortable: a Chinaman looked after them. Our food was excellent—considering.
The boat being "light," we were expected to make a record passage down—twelve days, the captain said; but it all depended on the state of the ice in the lower river.
There were only a dozen passengers besides ourselves—some of them were returning "sick," others because they were "sorry" they had come. Four or five were reputed to have made their piles. These were very silent men: they spent their time smoking, expectorating, and playing poker.