We have seen but few things of interest outside the boat, and that makes us more interesting to one another. We have sighted no vessels for two weeks. I saw two fur seals. They stuck their heads above the water just behind us, eying us curiously for a few minutes, and then vanished. We have seen one shark, but no whales. Petrels, or Mother Cary's Chickens, are almost always to be seen flitting over the waves. Black-footed albatrosses, or "goonies." as the sailors call them, are common, following the boat and eating all kinds of scraps thrown to them. We caught two with a fish-hook, but let them go, as there is now no suitable place to put the skins. One of the albatrosses measured seven feet three inches from tip to tip of the outstretched wings. We fastened upon his back a piece of canvas, giving the "Penelope," with the date and longitude and latitude. I wonder if he will ever be seen again, and, if seen, if this will be the only news of us the world will ever receive!
There are several "goonies" which seem to follow us constantly. We have named them Jim. Tom and Hannah. They know when meal time arrives, and then come close alongside within a few feet.
Tuesday, June 7.—The past two days have been stormy, but we have made good time and are only four hundred and sixty-seven miles from Unamak Pass. We saw several pieces of kelp this morning, which gives evidence of land not far off. This morning the sun came out several times, and every one is feeling quite jolly, which makes even the sea-sick ones better. One of the most popular songs on deck these cloudy days has been the familiar one. "Let a little sunshine in." Everyone was singing it to-day, when suddenly the clouds broke as if by impulse and the warm sunshine flooded the damp decks.
The sun doesn't set now till nearly nine o'clock, and the whole night long it is scarcely dark at all. To-day Clyde took the pictures of the party in groups, or "unions." There is the "Sailors' Union" (six of the boys besides the regular sailors, who go to the watch along with them and take their tricks at the wheel), the "Dishwashers' Union," the "Doctors' Union" (Dr. Coffin, and Jett, who is a druggist), the "Cooks' Union" (Shafer and myself), and the "Crips' Union" (the cripples, or those who are sea-sick, and do no work; they are Fancher, Wyse. McCullough. Wilson, Reynolds and Shaul). If the winds are favorable we expect to rest in Dutch Harbor for a few days, as we are no doubt too early to get into Kotzebue. From all accounts we cannot hope to reach the Sound until July 14.
This sort of experience is, so new to me. I thought I knew something of life on a schooner, during the trip to San Clemente and San Nicholas last year, but this is more and better. Nearly everyone save myself is longing for land, and they watch our course each day as it is traced on the chart with more interest than anything else. Just now I am sitting alone on a bench in the little galley, watching the potatoes and salt-horse boiling. The sun has come out and everyone is on deck, the "crips" lying against the stern rail or along the side of the cabin. By orders of the doctor all the bedding is airing on the deck and rails amidships, and some of the boys are taking advantage of the fair weather to do their washing. I did my own yesterday, although it was raining, and, as I have a "pull" with the cook, I dried the clothes in the galley at night. Of course all washing has to be done in salt water and it is scarcely satisfactory, to say the least. This necessary laundry work of ours is destined to occupy a good deal of our time and patience, and I suspect that before our cruise is over we shall long for a glimpse of a good, faithful washerwoman with her suds, and her arms akimbo, and her open smile.
| Cooks' Union. | Sailors' Union. |
| Dishwashers' Union. | Crips' Union. |
June 12.—We are in Bering Sea and all's well. It is partly clear, but cold, with a sharp wind. We went through Unamak Pass in the night. The captain thought it dangerous as well as delaying, to stop at Dutch Harbor, so we gave it up with disappointment. After beating for several hours, we are now well on our way straight northward to St. Lawrence Island. There is no ice in sight, but we can smell it distinctly. As we went through the Pass it was raining. and we could see but indistinctly the precipitous shores. The Pass is not usually taken by sailing vessels, as it is quite narrow, but our captain brought us through all right in spite of fog and storm. He has not slept for forty-eight hours. The shortest time ever made by a sailing vessel from San Francisco to Unamak Pass, 2,100 miles, was eighteen days; and we made it with the "Penelope" in twenty-three days. Hurrah for the "Penelope"!
This morning we passed within hailing distance of the ship "Sintram," of San Francisco. She had taken a cargo to St. Michaels and was on her way back. Her captain promised to report us, and he also told us that the ice was yet packed north of St. Michaels and that several ships were waiting. Clyde took a snap shot of the "Sintram."
There are plenty of birds to be seen now. If I had faith enough to warrant my walking on the water I would go shooting. Our small boats are all lashed to the dock of the "Penelope," but the captain says that in a few days we can put a skiff overboard if it is calm, and then ho! for murre pot-pie! Everyone is hungry for fresh meat. We try fishing with no luck. Saw a fur seal to-day, the first in two weeks.
