The Trail of a Sourdough / Life in Alaska

by May Kellogg Sullivan

After leaving her three years before and meeting many vicissitudes and disappointments, he had at last gained a fairly good position, when smallpox overtook him, and during a long illness he had lost it. Recovering and working his way up again elsewhere, he had lived frugally in order to save a competence upon which to live with his daughter in their own country to which he wished to take her.

When his wishes seemed about to be realized the bank in which his money had been placed, failed, and he lost all his hard earned savings. Weakened by discouragement he again fell ill, and then he decided to sail for the Aleutians and see his daughter at all hazards. Penniless, ill, and discouraged, he was a man who, in middle life, had still nothing to show for years of work and hardships.

One redeeming feature of all this dark outlook, there was with him a friend who was apparently moved by the misfortunes of Michaelovitz, and that was a young Russian sailor with whom he had become acquainted some years before, and who followed him wherever he went, even at the risk of causing a corresponding failure in his own affairs by so doing.

The young man's name was Shismakoff, and he had proven himself not only kindly and generous, but self-sacrificing and noble. Along with these good and somewhat unusual qualities, he possessed more than average good looks and abundant patience. He it was who now in the hospital faithfully attended Michaelovitz, as was his habit.

This young man had been told but little of the family history of his friend, only knowing that his wife was dead and that a daughter lived upon the Aleutians with her aunt.

This much he knew upon landing. At sight of Eyllen's bright eyes and rosy cheeks the young man's heart fluttered. She was good to look upon. Without commenting upon it even to himself he immediately proceeded to take, as compensation for attentions to her sick father, such keen enjoyment in her presence as only those long isolated can know in the society of ladies. Not that he forgot his manliness. For that the young man was too sensible; but he simply drank in every word uttered by the young girl, as a thirsty traveler would drink fresh water in a parched and burning desert.

The girl, herself, was unconstrained. Probably in this lay her greatest attraction. She had other hopes and interests, and they were centered in her father's recovery, and in her rocks a few miles away on the hillside.

Eyllen did not immediately relate her adventures to her father. He must recover his health before she disclosed her secret. To this end she now bent all her energies. A basket was traded to a neighbor for fowls in order that he might have nourishing broths, and her fishing tackle was brought into play to furnish the freshest of fish from the bay.

With attendants like Eyllen and Shismakoff, who could long remain upon a sick bed? Especially on these beautiful green islands in spring-time? Greatest of all grasses were those growing before the doors, and brightest of all blossoms were those plucked by the hands of Eyllen. Sweet was the fragrance of iris and violets, and lupins grew straight stalked and fearless. Lilies, too, appeared later, and all crowded the windows of the invalid whose heart was gladdened, softened, and refreshed by their sweet and silent influence.

At her basket work Eyllen sat daily for hours with her father, until he was strong enough to walk to her relative's cabin. Of course it was only to be expected that Shismakoff would accompany them. Upon one side of the convalescent he furnished support, while Eyllen assisted on the other.