Kadachan, On The Contrary, Was
Well Nigh Smothered With The Drunken Caresses Of One Of His Father's
Tillicums (Friends), Who Insisted On His Going Back With Him Into The
House.
But reversing the words of St. Paul in his account of his
shipwreck, it came to pass that we all at length got safe to sea and
by hard rowing managed to reach a fine harbor before dark, fifteen
sweet, serene miles from the howlers.
Our camp this evening was made at the head of a narrow bay bordered
by spruce and hemlock woods. We made our beds beneath a grand old
Sitka spruce five feet in diameter, whose broad, winglike branches
were outspread immediately above our heads. The night picture as I
stood back to see it in the firelight was this one great tree,
relieved against the gloom of the woods back of it, the light on the
low branches revealing the shining needles, the brown, sturdy trunk
grasping an outswelling mossy bank, and a fringe of illuminated
bushes within a few feet of the tree with the firelight on the tips
of the sprays.
Next morning, soon after we left our harbor, we were caught in a
violent gust of wind and dragged over the seething water in a
passionate hurry, though our sail was close-reefed, flying past the
gray headlands in most exhilarating style, until fear of being
capsized made us drop our sail and run into the first little nook we
came to for shelter. Captain Toyatte remarked that in this kind of
wind no Indian would dream of traveling, but since Mr. Young and I
were with him he was willing to go on, because he was sure that the
Lord loved us and would not allow us to perish.
We were now within a day or two of Chilcat. We had only to hold a
direct course up the beautiful Lynn Canal to reach the large Davidson
and other glaciers at its head in the canyons of the Chilcat and
Chilcoot Rivers. But rumors of trouble among the Indians there now
reached us. We found a party taking shelter from the stormy wind in a
little cove, who confirmed the bad news that the Chilcats were
drinking and fighting, that Kadachan's father had been shot, and that
it would be far from safe to venture among them until blood-money had
been paid and the quarrels settled. I decided, therefore, in the mean
time, to turn westward and go in search of the wonderful
"ice-mountains" that Sitka Charley had been telling us about.
Charley, the youngest of my crew, noticing my interest in glaciers,
said that when he was a boy he had gone with his father to hunt seals
in a large bay full of ice, and that though it was long since he had
been there, he thought he could find his way to it. Accordingly, we
pushed eagerly on across Chatham Strait to the north end of Icy
Strait, toward the new and promising ice-field.
On the south side of Icy Strait we ran into a picturesque bay to
visit the main village of the Hoona tribe. Rounding a point on the
north shore of the bay, the charmingly located village came in sight,
with a group of the inhabitants gazing at us as we approached. They
evidently recognized us as strangers or visitors from the shape and
style of our canoe, and perhaps even determining that white men were
aboard, for these Indians have wonderful eyes. While we were yet half
a mile off, we saw a flag unfurled on a tall mast in front of the
chief's house. Toyatte hoisted his United States flag in reply, and
thus arrayed we made for the landing. Here we were met and received
by the chief, Kashoto, who stood close to the water's edge,
barefooted and bareheaded, but wearing so fine a robe and standing so
grave, erect, and serene, his dignity was complete. No white man
could have maintained sound dignity under circumstances so
disadvantageous. After the usual formal salutations, the chief, still
standing as erect and motionless as a tree, said that he was not much
acquainted with our people and feared that his house was too mean for
visitors so distinguished as we were. We hastened of course to assure
him that we were not proud of heart, and would be glad to have the
honor of his hospitality and friendship. With a smile of relief he
then led us into his large fort house to the seat of honor prepared
for us. After we had been allowed to rest unnoticed and unquestioned
for fifteen minutes or so, in accordance with good Indian manners in
case we should be weary or embarrassed, our cook began to prepare
luncheon; and the chief expressed great concern at his not being able
to entertain us in Boston fashion.
Luncheon over, Mr. Young as usual requested him to call his people to
a meeting. Most of them were away at outlying camps gathering winter
stores. Some ten or twelve men, however, about the same number of
women, and a crowd of wondering boys and girls were gathered in, to
whom Mr. Young preached the usual gospel sermon. Toyatte prayed in
Thlinkit, and the other members of the crew joined in the
hymn-singing. At the close of the mission exercises the chief arose
and said that he would now like to hear what the other white chief
had to say. I directed John to reply that I was not a missionary,
that I came only to pay a friendly visit and see the forests and
mountains of their beautiful country. To this he replied, as others
had done in the same circumstances, that he would like to hear me on
the subject of their country and themselves; so I had to get on my
feet and make some sort of a speech, dwelling principally on the
brotherhood of all races of people, assuring them that God loved them
and that some of their white brethren were beginning to know them and
become interested in their welfare; that I seemed this evening to be
among old friends with whom I had long been acquainted, though I had
never been here before; that I would always remember them and the
kind reception they had given us; advised them to heed the
instructions of sincere self-denying mission men who wished only to
do them good and desired nothing but their friendship and welfare in
return.
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