Part 10 (1/2)
There was once a tide in my affairs which, not being taken at the flood, led on to everlasting regret.
One August evening several years ago I landed on an island in Puget Sound where some Indians were camped for the fis.h.i.+ng season. It was Sunday; the men were playing the fascinating gambling game of slahal, the children were shouting at play, the women were gathered in front of their tents, gossiping.
In one of the tents I found a coiled, imbricated Thompson River basket in old red-browns and yellows. It was three and a half feet long, two and a half feet high, and two and a half wide, with a thick, close-fitting cover. It was offered to me for ten dollars, and--that I should live to chronicle it!--not knowing the worth of such a basket, I closed my eyes to its appealing and unforgettable beauty, and pa.s.sed it by.
But it had, it has, and it always will have its silent revenge. It is as bright in my memory to-day as it was in my vision that August Sunday ten years ago, and more enchanting. My longing to see it again, to possess it, increases as the years go by. Never have I seen its equal, never shall I. Yet am I ever looking for that basket, in every Indian tent or hovel I may stumble upon--in villages, in camps, in out-of-the-way places. Sure am I that I should know it from all other baskets, at but a glance.
I knew nothing of the value of baskets, and I fancied the woman was taking advantage of my ignorance. While I hesitated, the steamer whistled. It was all over in a moment; my chance was gone. I did not even dream how greatly I desired that basket until I stood in the bow of the steamer and saw the little white camp fade from view across the sunset sea.
The original chaste designs and symbols of Thlinkit, Haidah, and Aleutian basketry are gradually yielding, before the coa.r.s.e taste of traders and tourists, to the more modern and conventional designs. I have lived to see a cannery etched upon an exquisitely carved paper-knife; while the things produced at infinite labor and care and called cribbage-boards are in such bad taste that tourists buying them become curios themselves.
The serpent has no place in Alaskan basketry for the very good reason that there is not a snake in all Alaska, and the Indians and Innuit probably never saw one. A woman may wade through the swampiest place or the tallest gra.s.s without one s.h.i.+very glance at her pathway for that little sinuous ripple which sends terror to most women's hearts in warmer climes. Indeed, it is claimed that no poisonous thing exists in Alaska.
The tourist must not expect to buy baskets farther north than Skaguay, where fine ones may be obtained at very reasonable prices. Having visited several times every place where basketry is sold, I would name first Dundas, then Yakutat, and then Sitka as the most desirable places for ”shopping,” so far as southeastern Alaska is concerned; out ”to Westward,” first Unalaska and Dutch Harbor, then Kodiak and Seldovia.
[Ill.u.s.tration: Copyright by F. H. Nowell, Seattle
ESKIMO IN WALRUS-SKIN KAMELAYKA]
But the tourists who make the far, beautiful voyage out among the Aleutians to Unalaska might almost be counted annually upon one's fingers--so unexploited are the attractions of that region; therefore, I will add that fine specimens of the Attu and Atka work may be found at Wrangell, Juneau, Skaguay, and Sitka, without much choice, either in workmans.h.i.+p or price. But fortunate may the tourist consider himself who travels this route on a steamer that gathers the salmon catch in August or September, and is taken through Icy Strait to the Dundas cannery.
There, while a cargo of canned salmon is being taken aboard, the pa.s.sengers have time to barter with the good-looking and intelligent Indians for the superb baskets laid out in the immense warehouse.
Nowhere in Alaska have I seen baskets of such beautiful workmans.h.i.+p, design, shape, and coloring as at Dundas--excepting always, of course, the Attu and Atka; nowhere have I seen them in such numbers, variety, and at such low prices.
My own visit to Dundas was almost pathetic. It was on my return from a summer's voyage along the coast of Alaska, as far westward as Unalaska.
I had touched at every port between Dixon's Entrance and Unalaska, and at many places that were not ports; had been lightered ash.o.r.e, rope-laddered and doried ash.o.r.e, had waded ash.o.r.e, and been carried ash.o.r.e on sailors' backs; and then, with my top berth filled to the ceiling with baskets and things, with all my money spent and all my clothes worn out, I stood in the warehouse at Dundas and saw those dozens of beautiful baskets, and had them offered to me at but half the prices I had paid for inferior baskets. It was here that the summer hats and the red kimonos and the pretty collars were brought out, and were eagerly seized by the dark and really handsome Indian girls. A ten-dollar hat--at the end of the season!--went for a fifteen-dollar basket; a long, red woollen kimono,--whose warmth had not been required on this ideal trip, anyhow,--secured another of the same price; and may heaven forgive me, but I swapped one twenty-two-inch gold-embroidered belt for a three-dollar basket, even while I knew in my sinful heart that there was not a waist in that warehouse that measured less than thirty-five inches; and from that to fifty!
However, in sheer human kindness, I taught the girl to whom I swapped it how it might be worn as a garter, and her delight was so great and so unexpected that it caused me some apprehension as to the results. My very proper Scotch friend and travelling companion was so aghast at my suggestion that she took the girl aside and advised her to wear the belt for collars, cut in half, or as a gay decoration up the front plait of her s.h.i.+rt-waist, or as armlets; so that, with it all, I was at last able to retire to my stateroom and enjoy my bargains with a clear conscience, feeling that after some fas.h.i.+on the girl would get her basket's worth out of the belt.
CHAPTER VIII
Leaving Wrangell, the steamer soon pa.s.ses, on the port side and at the entrance to Sumner Strait, Zarembo Island, named for that Lieutenant Zarembo who so successfully prevented the Britishers from entering Stikine River. Baron Wrangell bestowed the name, desiring in his grat.i.tude and appreciation to perpetuate the name and fame of the intrepid young officer.
From Sumner Strait the famed and perilously beautiful Wrangell Narrows is entered. This ribbonlike water-way is less than twenty miles long, and in many places so narrow that a stone may be tossed from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e. It winds between Mitkoff and Kupreanoff islands, and may be navigated only at certain stages of the tide. Deep-draught vessels do not attempt Wrangell Narrows, but turn around Cape Decision and proceed by way of Chatham Strait and Frederick Sound--a course which adds at least eighty miles to the voyage.
The interested voyager will not miss one moment of the run through the narrows, either for sleep or hunger. Better a sleepless night or a dinnerless day than one minute lost of this matchless scenic attraction.
The steamer pushes, under slow bell, along a channel which, in places, is not wider than the steamer itself. Its sides are frequently touched by the long strands of kelp that cover the sharp and dangerous reefs, which may be plainly seen in the clear water.
The timid pa.s.senger, sailing these narrows, holds his breath a good part of the time, and casts anxious glances at the bridge, whereon the captain and his pilots stand silent, stern, with steady, level gaze set upon the course. One moment's carelessness, ten seconds of inattention, might mean the loss of a vessel in this dangerous strait.
Intense silence prevails, broken only by the heavy, slow throb of the steamer and the swirl of the brown water in whirlpools over the rocks; and these sounds echo far.
The channel is marked by many buoys and other signals. The island sh.o.r.es on both sides are heavily wooded to the water, the branches spraying out over the water in bright, lacy green. The tree trunks are covered with pale green moss, and long moss-fringes hang from the branches, from the tips of the trees to the water's edge. The effect is the same as that of festal decoration.
Eagles may always be seen perched motionless upon the tall tree-tops or upon buoys.
The steams.h.i.+p _Colorado_ went upon the rocks between Spruce and Anchor points in 1900, where her storm-beaten hull still lies as a silent, but eloquent, warning of the perils of this narrow channel.
The tides roaring in from the ocean through Frederick Sound on the north and Sumner Strait on the south meet near Finger Point in the narrows.