Years passed. To say that fortune never came to him would not be true, because she is always a fickle dame, and cannot change her character for sailor men. So it came about that he finally stood on the captain's bridge of different sorts of craft, and gave orders to those beneath him.
And a typical sea captain was he. Gruff when occasion required, rollicking as any when it pleased him, he was generous to a fault, and a man of naturally good impulses. If he drank, he was never tipsy; if he swore, he always had reason; and thus he excused himself when he thought of his good old mother's early Bible teaching.
From Montevideo to Canton, from Gibraltar to San Francisco, from Cape of Good Hope to the Arctic Ocean; thus ran his itinerary year after year. Crossing Behring Strait from Siberia in the summer of 18—, he landed, with his little crew, at Cape Prince of Wales, for the purpose of trading with the natives. The furs of the animals of this region were found to be exceptionally fine, thick and glossy, and the Eskimos easily parted with them. For flour, tobacco and woolen cloth they willingly gave their furs to the sailors, who looked admiringly upon the skins of the polar bear, sea otter, beaver, silver, black and white fox, as well as those of many other animals. These furs were sold in San Francisco, and other trips were made to the Arctic Northwest.
Along the south coast of the Seward Peninsula there are few bays or natural harbors. Golovin Bay is one of them. Here for many years the Eskimos have subsisted upon the fine fish and game. The flesh and oils of the white whale, seal and walrus being principally sought for, the natives came to this bay from all directions.
After many years of wandering, and when the ambitions of the captain for a seafaring life had been satisfied, an incident occurred which changed the current of his life and decided him to settle permanently at Golovin Bay.
During his visits on the peninsula his attention had been directed to a bright and intelligent young Eskimo woman, lithe and lively, a good swimmer, trapper and hunter. Like a typical Indian, she had a clear, keen eye, steady nerves and common sense. She was a good gunner and seldom missed her mark. She was fearless on land or sea, loved her free out-door life, and was a true child of nature. Her name was Mollie.
One day in the early springtime, nearly a dozen years ago, when the winter's ice was still imprisoned in the bays and sounds of Behring Sea, though the warm sun had for weeks been shining and already seams appeared upon the ice in many places, the captain attempted the trip by dog-team from St. Michael to Golovin Bay. With him were four trusty natives, and three dog-teams, the animals being of the hardy Eskimo breed, and well-nigh impervious to cold, their long, thick hair making an effective protection.
His men were experienced, knowing the country perfectly, including a knowledge of winter trails and methods of traveling such as all Eskimos possess, and though the weather was not just what the captain might have wished, he decided to make the start, and left St. Michael in good shape for the long trip. The strong sleds with high-back handle bar and railed sides were firmly packed with freight, which was securely lashed down. The dogs were driven in pairs, eleven to a sled, the eleventh being in each case a fine leader and called such, besides having his own Eskimo name, as did also the four men who were warmly dressed in furs from head to foot. These natives were familiar with little English, but as the captain had made himself acquainted with their language they had no difficulty in making each other understood.
Early in the evening of that day they reached the Mission station of Unalaklik, on the mainland, about fifty miles northeast of the island, where they spent the night. In this settlement were white traders, as well as missionaries and numbers of Eskimos, it being an old port of considerable importance.
In the cold grey morning light Punni Churah and the men called to the malemutes, patting their furry heads and talking kindly to them, for many a weary, long mile of snow trail stretched northward for them that day before they could rest and eat. Only at night, when their day's work was done, were these faithful creatures ever fed on seal, fish, whale, or walrus meat, for otherwise they would be drowsy, and not willing to travel; so they were called early from their snow beds in a drift or hollow, where they liked best to sleep, and made ready for the start.