“What shall we see next?” was the question on every tongue that night; and “Sitka! Sitka!” was the answer.
It was a comfort to get out into the open ocean again. They had sailed so long through narrow passages and between dark, lofty sweeps of mountains, frowning with cliffs of bare rock, or shadowy with silent ranks of pine and fir, that, like the Delectable Mountains in “Pilgrim’s Progress,” the hills seemed about to fall on them and bury the good Queen out of sight under avalanches and icebergs.
All that night the waves of the Pacific rocked them gently, as the ship made its steady way southward. What a volume it would make, if we could have the dreams of this party of a hundred souls on board the Queen for that one night printed—and illustrated!
At six o’clock next morning Randolph went on deck. The steamer was motionless, anchored about half a mile from shore. She was in a bay, which was thickly sprinkled with pretty, wooded islands, as far out as the eye could reach. Fourteen miles away westward, rose the peak of Mount Edgecumbe, its slopes reddened with ancient streams of lava. It was of that exact cone-shape, with its top cut squarely off or “truncated,” that marks a volcanic formation; and indeed, Edgecumbe was smoking away furiously only a generation or two ago.
The shore line was rugged, like all the southern Alaskan coast, with a narrow strip of level land running along the margin of the sea. Following this line the eye presently rested upon a collection of houses—quite a town, it seemed, just ahead. One large, square building was a hundred feet or more above the rest. A sharply-pointed church steeple rose from among the lower roofs of the other buildings. Then Randolph knew it was Sitka, the capital of Alaska.
He had hardly recognized the place when he heard his name called from the water.
Rushing to the side of the vessel, he spied a boat coming swiftly toward the Queen, rowed with a sharp man-of-war stroke by four sailors in neat suits of blue.
In the stern sheets sat—could it be?—yes, Mr. Percival, Tom and Fred, all three waving their caps and shouting wildly.
In another moment the boat was alongside, the gangway steps were let down, and Fred sprang on board. Mr. Percival came more slowly, assisting Tom, who was observed to limp. The sailors passed up several pieces of baggage, the officer in charge touched his cap, and away went the boat toward Sitka. As she receded, Randolph could read on the stern the single word in gilt letters, Pinta.