Saturday, 27th. - The wind being nearly fair, all hands loaded up, and we started for the Redoubt. I had hoped to get a larger boat at Pastólik, fearing to trust my little bidarrá to the waves of the open sea, but there were neither boats nor natives at hand. We sailed well, and soon outstripped Teleézhik, though the nimble bidárka led the fleet. We drank tea on the shore, about ten miles from Pastólik, and then pushed on toward Point Románoff. Goldsen arrived at this point some time ahead of us, as it had become quite calm. On reaching the village, near the solitary hill which marks the point (which is the Cape Shallow Water of Cook), I was about to land, when Goldsen cried out to me, "Hurry up! Mr. Doctor, don't stop for a moment, there are two American vessels at the Redoubt!" My joy and excitement can hardly be described. Our ignorance of any details only added to it. The news was obtained through a native who had been to the Canal, and had only seen the vessels. I immediately proposed to Goldsen to put his native into the bidarrá, while one of my Indians would take the other paddle, and I would accompany him in the swifter bidárka to the Redoubt. This arrangement was soon completed, and I left Kurilla to bring the bidarrá to St. Michael's. We touched at Pikmiktálik, and entering the Canal took tea on the bank. While the chynik was boiling I took a bath in one of the lagoons, and otherwise prepared myself to meet civilized beings once more. After tea we pulled vigorously all night. Sunday, 28th.-About three o'clock in the morning we reached the northern mouth of the Canal, and saw a small schooner lying in the bay. To the eastward a bidarrá was pulling for the Canal, but seemed rather to avoid us. Taking Goldsen's glass, I made out one white man in it, and the round sides of two barrels rose conspicuously above the gunwale. I felt sick as I sat down, knowing that the cargo must consist of rum, and seeing already the beginning of evils whose future growth none could estimate. We pulled up to the landing near the boat-house. Everything seemed much as usual, and everybody was evidently asleep. My eye soon fell on a pile of boxes, which were not of Russian make, and just beyond was a lot of American tin cups. I hastened to the house on the point, which was evidently occupied. Entering, I nearly stumbled over sleeper on the floor. He rose and came out into the light, and I was soon shaking hands and exchanging hurried interrogatories with Mike Lebarge. The unmixed delight with which I welcomed his familiar face can hardly be appreciated. I found, to my own astonishment, that speaking English, after a year of nothing but Russian and Indian dialects, was anything but easy, and for several days I was obliged to resort to Russian when fluency was required. The news, much of it eighteen months old, was all news to me, and it was weeks before I gained anything like a comprehension of the events which had occurred in the civilized world since I last heard from it. My only disappointment was that they brought me not a single home letter. All of these had been sent to Sitka or elsewhere, in ignorance of my whereabouts. I had not heard from home for nearly two years. Captain Smith had left with his vessel for Grantley Harbor. He would return to St. Michael's, and I made the necessary preparations for accompanying him to California. I must pass over the events of the next month at the Redoubt. Several trading companies, beside that which Mike represented, intended to send parties into the country. The vessel in the bay was principally loaded with liquor, which had in some mysterious way eluded the vigilance of the United States officials at Sitka; she belonged to one of these companies. Some time after, the vessel arrived which had been sent to take back those Russians who desired to return to Russia. Very few went in her, as most of them were hired by the new trading companies. To Mr. George R. Adams, and Captain Riedell, of the brig Constantine, I was under many obligations. On the 21st of July the schooner Frances L. Steele arrived from Bering Strait with Captain Smith on board. On the 9th of August, having shipped the collections, I embarked for San Francisco via the Aleutian Islands. We touched at St. George's Island and some of the Aleutians on our way to California. The incidents of the voyage need not be recounted here. It is sufficient to say that I obtained abundance of evidence that during 1868 great abuses were prevalent in the new territory. One trading company in particular, hoping, by its large capital and connection with the officers of the defunct Russian Company, to crush all smaller concerns, had not hesitated at force, fraud, and corruption, to attain these ends. It would be impossible to believe in the probity of some of the officials (since removed) at Sitka, as it was impossible to avoid seeing the outrages which had been committed. One instance of the temper of these traders will suffice. A party, consisting of several German Jews, one Russian, and some other foreigners, had staked out the places. where the fur seal come up on the island of St. George, and declared their intention of holding these tracts of beach under the homestead laws (!) by force, if necessary. Two unarmed Americans, who had served in the army and navy during the late war, and who had a permit to seal from the Sitka authorities, having trespassed on the land staked out, were set upon by a party of armed natives, led by a member of the company referred to, were tied hand and foot, and left all night in a mud hovel used for storing salt. The next day they were released on condition that the trespass should not be repeated. In their present condition the Creoles are unfit to exercise the franchise, as American citizens. If a territorial government should be granted to the handful of Americans now resident in the territory, it would simply give the stronger companies the power to crush and ruin the weaker ones, and a full opportunity of smuggling and selling liquor would be afforded to the former. The present system of a military government, with honest officers, is unquestionably the best, until the proper reservations are made and regulations in regard to trading are enacted. The territory is not likely to be populous for many years, and should rather be regarded as a great storehouse of fish, timber, and fur; from which American citizens alone should be allowed to draw supplies, under proper restrictions and on payment of reasonable taxes. The country, under a monopoly, afforded one hundred thousand silver rubles a year, taxes, to the Russian crown, and, with the development of other resources than the traffic in furs, can certainly afford as much to the United States. I speak from no uncertainty, but from positive knowledge; I believe that a proper and not onerous system of taxation would afford two hundred and fifty thousand dollars in gold per annum. It is but reasonable to suppose that a territory separated by sea and foreign territory from the United States-being in point of fact a colony-should need, and be the subject of, special legislation, differing in many particulars from that applied to territories which are merely continuations of densely populated districts under State jurisdiction. I have seen with surprise and regret that men whose forefathers wielded the axe in the forests of Maine, or gathered scanty crops on the granite hillsides of Massachusetts, have seen fit to throw contempt and derision on the acquisition of a great territory naturally far richer than that in which they themselves originated, principally on the ground that it is a "cold" country. This complaint is but half true to begin with, since on half of the coast of the new territory the thermometer has never been known to fall below zero. Icebergs are unknown in Alaska from Dixon's Entrance to Bering Strait, and no polar bear ever came within a thousand miles of Sitka. On the other hand, has the race of hardy pioneers died out among us? Do we, as a nation, sigh only for indolent siestas in the canebrakes of Cuba? In a country where all that we honor and respect has grown from the efforts of those whose energy, fostered by conflict with the elements, has made a garden of the rock, turned the forest into fruitful fields, and drawn the precious minerals from the flinty bosom of the earth, there can be but one answer to such a question. We have bought for a nominal price the key to the North Pacific. It can no longer be said that three ironclads can blockade our entire western coast. Two hundred and fifty years hence there may be a new New England where there is now a trackless forest. The time may come when we shall call on our Pacific fishermen to man our fleets, on the lumbermen of Alaska and our hardy northern trappers to don the blue, and strike another blow for unity and freedom. The oak must weather the storms of many winters before it gains maturity. Alaska is not a California, where cities arise in a night, and may pass away in a day. Meanwhile we must be patient. We entered the Golden Gate on the 29th of September. I cannot close this partial record of my experience in the north, without a word of acknowledgment to those Californian friends who made my welcome back so warm. The friendship of Californians, easily acquired, is as precious as their own gold, and as enduring as their Sierras. When I stepped on board the steamer, eastward bound, I felt almost as if I were leaving rather than approaching home. |