A Woman who went to Alaska

by May Kellogg Sullivan

Nothing, however, was seen of the much dreaded ice until about noon on Sunday, June tenth. The air had been steadily growing colder so that woolen clothing and fur wraps were in demand. Men thrust their hands into their pockets, or drew on gloves while they stamped their feet upon deck to keep themselves warm in the open air. Soon to our right lay a great semi-circular field of ice, in places piled high, looking cold, jagged and dangerous. In the distance those having field-glasses saw two clumsy, slow-moving objects which they could easily distinguish as polar bears on floating cakes of ice.

By the latter we were soon surrounded, and were obliged, slowly and cautiously, to pick our way through towards the narrowest spot, or where the nearest open water could be seen beyond. Floating ice now lay all around us, appearing only a few feet above the water; below it the bergs extended many times that distance. Sometimes they were small and looked harmless enough; but many were large, massive, and full of death-dealing power if urged against the sides of a ship by the wind or struck accidentally. Carefully we picked our way along, watched as we were by every soul aboard the "Elder" following, until we had successfully made our way through the ice pack and glided out into the blue waters beyond. Then came a great shout from the throats of spectators on both ships, and praises for the master and his crew who were doing such good work were loudly sung.

Immediately our manoeuvres were repeated by the "Elder," and we watched her with interest equal to their own; then as she passed the danger point and swung safely through the ice bergs and out, both ships, like fresh, uncaged birds, sped lightly and swiftly over the water northward.

In a few hours we were awakened from afternoon naps by the ringing of the ship's bell and found ourselves again surrounded by floating bergs. A man in the bow was taking soundings with lead and line, calling out every few seconds. "No bottom! No bottom!" and then hauling in the lead again as the ship crept carefully along. From submerged floes there was now the greatest danger, but we gradually drew away from all floating ice and sailed safely away as before.

Each Sunday on board the "St. Paul" had been marked by some religious service conducted by one of the preachers, while an improvised quartet of voices led the singing. June tenth service had been held in the forenoon, when a short sermon had followed the singing of a few familiar old hymns by the assembled passengers. Now in the early evening, while I sat with a few friends in the dining salon rehearsing hymns for the coming service, suddenly the ship's bell rang out upon the still night air. Instantly there came a jar, a quiver, and all rushed out upon deck to see what had happened. We had been rudely jostled by an unseen ice floe while the eyes of the pilot had been occupied by the ones visible. Several times this happened. We were in the midst of a sea of ice floes. There was no visible egress ahead; we must back out, if possible, as we had come.

Soon our steamer was stopped for the night, and religious services were begun in the dining salon. About one hundred persons were present. Our quartet sang five or six selections, "Rock of Ages" and "Throw Out the Life-line" among others. The preacher offered prayer, read Scripture promises, and spoke feelingly for twenty minutes. He talked of our lives being only short spans, the length of which depends upon the will of God; and it is the duty of each soul, he said, to be prepared to meet its Maker.

It was a solemn moment for all. Outside the ice drifted slowly about, thick fog settled over us, the ship's whistle sounded, and night came on. The loneliness increased.

When the speaker had closed his remarks he asked that the quartet sing "Nearer My God to Thee," and we sang it. Sweet and firm was the voice of the English girl now, and when, with uplifted arm and softly spoken benediction, the minister dismissed us, it was to go upon deck feeling stronger and much comforted.

There was yet no breath of wind stirring. For this we thanked a kind Providence, for, had the wind risen, our lives would have been in jeopardy indeed. In that case the massive ice cakes would have been blown swiftly and heavily about to crush all ships like egg-shells and send them to the bottom of the sea.

For breakfast we ate yellow corn-bread and bacon with a relish such as it never gave at home, and even those who had been seasick for days were beginning to "get away" with their rations. At eight in the morning the anchor with its rattling chain was dropped and we lay in an open spot. An hour later there was no perceptible motion of the ship, the sea was smooth as a carpet, and our tired captain had gone to bed. For forty-eight hours he had not slept, nor scarcely left the bridge, and the rest was badly needed.