The place was really under martial law. The town government, useless and corrupt, was practically nil; and as it was believed that the federal judge, with his staff of assistants, would not arrive until August, it was the plain duty of the military to preserve order and, so far as possible, leave legal matters in statu quo until the advent of the civil authorities as provided by the laws which had been recently enacted for Alaska.
For various reasons which seemed good and sufficient, we decided to quit Nome and go to Council City. We knew that Mr. Lane's company had large interests in that region—that he believed in it; and we knew people on the Lane who had gone thither direct on reaching Nome. It was said, too, to be a healthful country, with plenty of good water and even a belt of timber. One did not hear it much discussed at Nome—people did not seem to know much about it,—but what was said was favorable. As to the means of reaching it, information was scanty, and that somewhat discouraging, but certainly the thing to do was to go by boat east about seventy-five miles to the mouth of Golovin Bay, from which point we should have to travel up shallow rivers some fifty or sixty miles to Council City. C——, who had been a pretty sick man, but who had declined to follow certain "sound advice" and return home (having joined us from the Lane), and G——, another fellow-passenger, thought the move a good one, and agreed to come with us. We four, therefore, making selections from our respective supplies, sold or otherwise disposed of provisions which were less essential, for the carrying of freight and supplies in that impossible country, however short the actual distance, is a very serious and expensive matter. V—— and R—— were building their boat, though they had not yet decided in which direction to go; but they agreed to communicate with us somehow during the season. A tent labeled "Undertaker," with the American flag on top, had just been put up for business across the way from us; and it seemed fitting that we should celebrate the Fourth of July by leaving Nome. This was accomplished on the little steamer Dora, belonging to the Alaska Commercial Company, not much to look at, but it afforded the greatest comfort and luxury we had known since the days at San Francisco, and, furthermore, it carried drinkable water.
III
TRAVEL TO THE INTERIOR
eaving Nome in the evening, by the following noon we were off a small settlement comprising a few scattered sod houses, warehouses, and tents, called either by the Indian name "Chenik," or "Dexter's," after the pioneer who lived there with his Eskimo wife and children. Dexter had settled at Chenik a number of years ago, and was making money by trading with the natives, when, in the autumn of 1898, the discovery of gold at Nome made him a very rich man. He was among the first to secure valuable claims. Chenik, as I prefer to call it, is a sand-spit in the entrance to Golovin Bay, a large and shallow body of water with treacherous mud-flats, surrounded by great barren hills and the all-pervading tundra. Not a tree is to be seen, but rising immediately behind the scattered settlement is a steep hill, less somber than the rest, upon which the occasional wooden bier of a departed Eskimo makes the scene less monotonous. There is a small Swedish mission, in charge of a good man, Mr. Hendricksen, who was looking after the welfare of fifty or sixty natives there encamped. The entire picture is far more cheerful than that of Nome. Until further and more definite information concerning our destination could be gathered, we made temporary camp on dry ground not far from the shore, fortunate in being able to borrow some loose boards for a flooring. The weather certainly had been and was very good to us, the days bright and clear and, at times, quite warm, but the nights always cold.
Generally, what was learned about the Council City country was far from reassuring. Men who seemed to be of a sturdy, reliable sort, and who said that they had been there, reported that it was not worth while, and dilated upon the arduous work of dragging one's self and one's boat up the shallow streams, eaten up by mosquitos, to find everything staked and nothing doing. I recall a Hebrew who made us a visit, and, almost with tears in his eyes, entreated us not to blight our young lives by going to Council City; and what a chapter of horrors he detailed! He maintained that we should go to Eagle City, about fifteen hundred miles distant via the Yukon River, where nuggets as large as one's fist lay carelessly about, and where there was a great field for lawyers. He insisted that we take his picture, in order that in the future we could point to it, saying, "This is the man who advised us not to go to Council City." It was subsequently learned that this gentleman had gone half-way to Council, and no farther. We met some, however, who believed it to be a good country, and who were making ready to set out for it. To get freight up the rivers a narrow and shallow boat is essential, and such a craft, twenty-two feet in length, was quickly and dexterously knocked together out of rough lumber by two enterprising carpenters who were doing a land-office business. Each one of us became a quarter-owner in the Mush-on, as the boat was christened.
Living at Chenik was not agreeable, and we were willing to tackle Council City anyhow. We four, together with the more valuable of the supplies, occupied a ten-by-twelve tent, and the water proposition was worse than that at Nome. It meant a long walk up a hill past the Indian graves and along the high cliff descending steep to the water's edge, to a crevice in it which held a bank of frozen snow. This was brought back in buckets and melted, and, for drinking purposes, boiled and filtered. Then, too, the general epidemic of sickness which prevailed during the season of 1900 among the natives throughout northwestern Alaska was here manifest. They all coughed, and while we were at Chenik there were several deaths from a complication of measles and pneumonia. Two young Swedish women, belonging to the mission, were faithfully ministering to the sick, for the Eskimo is as helpless when ill as are the members of his household to care for him. Later, Dexter found a dozen of the unfortunates dead across the bay, and tumbled their remains into a single grave.