Part 2 (1/2)
It is the pleading of the mountains and the pleading of the sea woven into one call and sent floating down laden with the sweetness of the splendid s.p.a.ces. No mountaineer can say why he goes back to the mountains; no sailor why he cannot leave the sea. No one has yet seen the spirit that dwells in the waterfall, but all have heard it calling and have known its spell.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau
Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle
DISTANT VIEW OF DAVIDSON GLACIER]
”If you love the sea, you've got to follow it,” said a sea-rover, ”and that's all there is to it. A man can get along without the woman he loves best on earth if he has to, but he can't get along without the sea if he once gets to loving it. It gets so it seems like a thing alive to him, and it makes up for everything else that he don't have. And it's just like that with Alaska. When a man has made two-three trips to Alaska, you can't get him off on a southern run again, as long as he can help himself.”
It is an unimaginative person who can wind through these intricate and difficult sounds, channels, and pa.s.ses without a strange, quickened feeling, as of the presence of those dauntless navigators who discovered and charted these waters centuries ago. From Juan de Fuca northward they seem to be sailing with us, those grim, brave spectres of the past--Perez, Meares, Cuadra, Valdes, Malaspina, Duncan, Vancouver, Whidbey--and all the others who came and went through these beautiful ways, leaving their names, or the names of their monarchs, friends, or sweethearts, to endure in blue stretches of water or glistening domes of snow.
We sail in safety, ease, luxury, over courses along which they felt their perilous way, never knowing whether Life or Death waited at the turn of the prow. Nearly a century and a quarter ago Vancouver, working his way cautiously into Queen Charlotte Sound, soon came to disaster, both the _Discovery_ and her consort, the _Chatham_, striking upon the rocks that border the entrance. Fortunately the return of the tide in a few hours released them from their perilous positions, before they had sustained any serious damage.
But what days of mingled indecision, hope, and despair--what nights of anxious watching and waiting--must have been spent in these places through which we glide so easily now; and the silent spirits of the grim-peopled past take hold of our heedless hands and lead us on. Does a pilot sail these seas who has never on wild nights felt beside him on the bridge the presence of those early ones who, staring ever ahead under stern brows, drove their vessels on, not knowing what perils lay beyond? Who, asked, ”What shall we do when hope be gone?” made answer, ”Why, sail on, and on, and on.”
From Queen Charlotte Sound the steamer pa.s.ses into Fitzhugh Sound around Cape Calvert, on Calvert Island. Off the southern point of this island are two dangerous cl.u.s.ters of rocks, to which, in 1776, by Mr. James Hanna, were given the interesting names of ”Virgin” and ”Pearl.” In this poetic vicinage, and nearer the island than either, is another cl.u.s.ter of rocks, upon which some bold and sacrilegious navigator has bestowed the name of ”Devil.”
”It don't sound so pretty and ladylike,” said the pilot who pointed them out, ”but it's a whole lot more appropriate. Rocks _are_ devils--and that's no joke; and what anybody should go and name them 'virgins' and 'pearls' for, is more than a man can see, when he's standing at a wheel, h.e.l.l-bent on putting as many leagues between him and them as he can. It does seem as if some men didn't have any sense at all about naming things. Now, if I were going to name anything 'virgin'”--his blue eyes narrowed as they stared into the distance ahead--”it would be a mountain that's always white; or a bay that gets the first suns.h.i.+ne in the morning; or one of those little islands down in Puget Sound that's just _covered_ with flowers.”
Just inside Fitzhugh Sound, on the island, is Safety Cove, or Oatsoalis, which was named by Mr. Duncan in 1788, and which has ever since been known as a safe anchorage and refuge for s.h.i.+ps in storm. Vancouver, anchoring there in 1792, found the sh.o.r.es to be bold and steep, the water from twenty-three to thirty fathoms, with a soft, muddy bottom.
Their s.h.i.+ps were steadied with hawsers to the trees. They found a small beach, near which was a stream of excellent water and an abundance of wood. Vessels lie here at anchor when storms or fogs render the pa.s.sage across Queen Charlotte Sound too perilous to be undertaken.
Fitzhugh Sound is but a slender, serene water-way running directly northward thirty miles. On its west, lying parallel with the mainland, are the islands of Calvert, Hecate, Nalau, and Hunter, separated by the pa.s.sages of Kwakshua, Hakai, and Nalau, which connect Fitzhugh with the wide sweep of Hecate Strait.
Burke Channel, the second link in the exquisite water chain that winds and loops in a northwesterly course between the islands of the Columbian and the Alexander archipelagoes and the mainland of British Columbia and Alaska, is scarcely entered by the Alaskan steamer ere it turns again into Fisher Channel, and from this, westward, into the short, very narrow, but most beautiful Lama Pa.s.s.
From Burke Channel several ribbonlike pa.s.sages form King Island.
Lama Pa.s.s is more luxuriantly wooded than many of the others, and is so still and narrow that the reflections of the trees, growing to the water's edge, are especially attractive. Very effective is the graveyard of the Bella Bella Indians, in its dark forest setting, many totems and curious architectures of the dead showing plainly from the steamer when an obliging captain pa.s.ses under slow bell. Near by, on Campbell Island, is the village of the Bella Bellas, who, with the Tsimpsians and the Alert Bay Indians, were formerly regarded as the most treacherous and murderous Indians of the Northwest Coast. Now, however, they are gathered into a model village, whose houses, church, school, and stores s.h.i.+ne white and peaceful against a dark background.
Lama Pa.s.s is one of the most poetic of Alaskan water-ways.
Seaforth Channel is the dangerous reach leading into Millbank Sound. It is broken by rocks and reefs, on one of which, Rejetta Reef, the _Willapa_ was stranded ten years ago. Running off Seaforth and Millbank are some of the finest fiords of the inland pa.s.sage--Spiller, Johnston, Dean, Ellerslie, and Portlock channels, Cousins and Cascades inlets, and many others. Dean and Cascades channels are noted for many waterfalls of wonderful beauty. The former is ten miles long and half a mile wide.
Cascades Inlet extends for the same distance in a northeasterly direction, opening into Dean. Innumerable cataracts fall sheer and foaming down their great precipices; the narrow canyons are filled with their musical, liquid thunder, and the prevailing color seems to be palest green, reflected from the color of the water underneath the beaded foam. Vancouver visited these ca.n.a.ls and named them in 1793, and although, seemingly, but seldom moved by beauty, was deeply impressed by it here. He considered the cascades ”extremely grand, and by much the largest and most tremendous we had ever beheld, their impetuosity sending currents of air across the ca.n.a.l.”
These fiords are walled to a great height, and are of magnificent beauty. Some are so narrow and so deep that the sunlight penetrates only for a few hours each day, and eternal mist and twilight fill the s.p.a.ces.
In others, not disturbed by cascades, the waters are as clear and smooth as gla.s.s, and the stillness is so profound that one can hear a cone fall upon the water at a distance of many yards. Covered with constant moisture, the vegetation is of almost tropic luxuriance. In the shade, the huge leaves of the devil's-club seem to float, suspended, upon the air, drooping slightly at the edges when touched by the sun. Raspberries and salmon-berries grow to enormous size, but are so fragile and evanescent that they are gone at a breath, and the most delicate care must be exercised in securing them. They tremble for an instant between the tongue and the palate, and are gone, leaving a sensation as of dewdrops flavored with wine; a memory as haunting and elusive as an exquisite desire known once and never known again.
In Dean Ca.n.a.l, Vancouver found the water almost fresh at low tide, on account of the streams and cascades pouring into it.
There he found, also, a remarkable Indian habitation; a square, large platform built in a clearing, thirty feet above the ground. It was supported by several uprights and had no covering, but a fire was burning upon one end of it.
In Cascade Ca.n.a.l he visited an Indian village, and found the construction of the houses there very curious. They apparently backed straight into a high, perpendicular rock cliff, which supported their rears; while the fronts and sides were sustained by slender poles about eighteen feet in height.
Vancouver leaves the method of reaching the entrances to these houses to the reader's imagination.
It was in this vicinity that Vancouver first encountered ”split-lipped”
ladies. Although he had grown accustomed to distortions and mutilations among the various tribes he had visited, he was quite unprepared for the repulsive style which now confronted him.