CHAPTER XIV.
FROM FORT YUKON TO PORT CLARENCE.
edit
THAT same evening, in the course of a conversation at which the whole family circle was present, it was decided they would resume their journey two days after this memorable performance.
Evidently,—this was Mr. Cascabel's own judicious remark,—had he been desirous to add recruits to his troupe, his only trouble would have been the abundance of the materials at his disposal. Though not without a sting for his personal pride, he was forced to acknowledge that these Indians had a wonderful aptitude for acrobatic exercises. As gymnasts, clowns, jugglers, or equilibrists, they would have met with immense success in any country. No doubt, practice was a great element in their talent, but they had to thank nature even more for making them muscular, supple, and nimble. Denying their having proved themselves equal to the Cascabels had been an injustice. Fortunately, the honor of the day had been saved for the troupe by the presence of mind of the “Queen of electrical women”!
It must be said that the agents at the fort—poor fellows without any education, most of them—had been no less astounded than the natives at what had taken place before them. It was agreed, however, that they should not be told the secret of the phenomenon, in order to leave with Cornelia the laurels she had won. The next morning, accordingly, when they came to pay their usual visit, they were afraid to draw too close to the “thunderbolt woman,” although she greeted them with a world of smiles. They hesitated somewhat before they took her proffered hand, and so did the tyhi and the magician, who would fain have known the mystery,—useful as it would have proved to them, to increase their prestige with the native tribes.
The preparations for the departure being completed, Mr. Cascabel and his people took leave of their hosts in the forenoon of the 6th of August, and the horses now well rested, started down the river-side, following the direction of the stream toward the west.
Mr. Sergius and John had carefully studied the map, availing themselves of the accurate indications given to them by the young Indian. Kayette knew most of the villages they would have to cross, and, from what she said, there were no streams ahead that would be a serious hindrance to the progress of the Fair Rambler.
Besides, there was no question, as yet, of leaving the Yukon valley. After following the right bank of the river as far as the station at Nelu, they would call at Nuclukayette village, and thence to Nulato Fort would be about two hundred and forty miles. The wagon would then leave the Yukon, and journey due west.
The season still kept favorable; the days were pretty warm, whilst the nights gave unmistakable signs of a falling in the temperature. So, barring unforeseen obstacles, Mr. Cascabel felt sure of reaching Port Clarence before winter had heaped insurmountable obstacles on his path.
Surprise may be felt at the comparative ease with which such a journey could be accomplished. But is not this the case in flat countries, when the fine season, the length of the days, the mildness of the climate are in the traveler's favor? Things would be altogether different, on the other side of Behring Strait, when the Siberian steppes would stretch away to the horizon, when they would be buried under the winter snow as far as the eye could reach, and when gusts of the winter blast would plow their surface.
One evening, as they were chatting of dangers to come:
“Well, well,” said the sanguine Cascabel, “we shall manage to pull through, never mind!”
“I hope so,” answered Mr. Sergius. “But as soon as you set foot on the Siberian coast, I advise you to make for the southwest of the province immediately. In the more southerly parts, you will suffer less from the cold.”
“That is what we mean to do, Mr. Sergius,” answered John.
“And with all the more reason, my friends, as you have nothing to fear from the Siberians, unless—as Clovy would say—unless you ventured among the tribes on the northern coast. In truth your greatest enemy will be the cold.”
“We are prepared against it,” said Mr. Cascabel, “and we shall get on all right; our only regret being that you will not continue the journey with us, Mr. Sergius.”
“Our only regret, but a very keen one,” added John.
Mr. Sergius felt to what an extent these people had grown attached to him, and how fond he himself had become of them. Sure enough, as one day after another was spent in the intimacy we have described, the bonds of friendship grew closer and closer between them and him. The parting would be painful; and would they ever meet again, throughout the haphazard eventualities of two courses of life so different from each other? And then, Mr. Sergius would bring Kayette away with him, and he had already noticed that John's friendship for the young Indian girl was deserving of another name. Had Mr. Cascabel remarked what was going on in the heart of his son? Mr. Sergius did not feel sure of it. As to Cornelia, as the good woman had never opened her mind on the subject, he had thought it his duty to keep equally reserved. Of what use would an explanation have been? Quite a different future was in store for Mr. Sergius's adopted daughter; and poor John was now indulging in hopes that could not be realized.
In fine, the journey was proceeding without too many obstacles, without too much toiling. Port Clarence would be reached before Behring Strait had been frozen into a roadway, and there, very probably, they would have to make a stay of several weeks. No necessity, therefore, to overwork men or beasts.
Still, they were always at the mercy of a possible accident. One of the horses hurt or sick, a broken wheel, and the Fair Rambler would have been in an alarming position. The observance of the greatest caution was therefore obligatory.
For the first three days, the route continued to follow the course of the river, which flowed toward the west, as we have said; but the Yukon began to bend southward, and it was thought right to keep along the line of the seventy-fifth parallel.[1]
About this spot, the river was very sinuous, and the valley became visibly narrower, ensconced by hills of medium height, which the map designates under the name of “ramparts” on account of their bastion-faced appearance.
Some difficulty was experienced in getting out of this maze, and all sorts of precautions were taken to save the wagon from accident. They took a portion of the load down when the road was too steep, and frequently put their shoulders to the wheels, the more so, according to Mr. Cascabel's expression, “as wheelwrights seemed rather scarce in these parts!”
There were likewise not a few creeks to cross, among others the Nocotocargut, the Shetehaut, the Klakinicot. Fortunately, at this season, these streams were shallow, and it was easy to find available fords.
As to the Indians, there were few or none at all in this part of the province, once occupied by the tribes of the Midland Men, tribes now almost extinct. From time to time, a family, at most, passed by, on their way to the southwest coast for the autumn fishing season.
At other times, likewise, traders met our friends from the opposite direction, coming from the mouth of the Yukon, and pushing on toward the various stations of the Russo-American Company. They contemplated, not without some surprise, both the gayly painted wagon and the freight it carried. Then, with a “Safe home!” they continued their tramp eastward.
On the 13th of August, the Fair Rambler arrived at the village of Nuclakayette, three hundred and sixty miles from Fort Yukon. It is in reality but another fur-trade station, the furthest station frequented by Russian agents. Starting from different points in Russia in Asia, and in Alaska, they meet here to set up a competition with the buyers of the Hudson Bay Company.
Hence Nuclakayette was a center to which the natives converged with the furs they had been able to gather during the winter season.
Having deviated from the river in order to avoid its numerous bends, Mr. Cascabel had met it again in the latitude of this village, which was pleasantly nestled among low hills within a gay curtain of green trees. A few wooden huts clustered around the palisade with which the fort was protected. Brooklets murmured through the grassy plain. Two or three skiffs lay by the bank of the Yukon. The whole landscape was gratifying to the eye and suggestive of rest. As to the Indians who frequented the neighborhood, they were Tananas, belonging, as was remarked above, to the finest type of the native in northern Alaska.
Enticing as this spot looked, the Fair Rambler only stopped twenty-four hours here. The rest seemed sufficient for the horses, seeing the care that was taken of them. Mr. Cascabel proposed to make a longer stay at Nulato, a more important and better-stocked fort, where various purchases would be made in view of the journey through Siberia.
Needless to say that Mr. Sergius and John, accompanied sometimes by young Sander, made good use of their guns, along the road. By way of heavy game, there were the reindeer and the moose which ran across the plains and sought the shelter of the forests, or rather the clumps of trees with which the country is rather sparingly dotted. In the marshy parts, the geese, the woodcocks, the snipes, and the wild ducks afforded many a good shot; and our sportsmen had even an opportunity of bringing down a couple of herons, little appreciated though these be from the eatable point of view.
And still, from what Kayette stated, the heron is greatly prized by the Indians as an article of food—especially when they have nothing else. A trial of these birds was made at breakfast, on the 13th of August. Despite all Cornelia's talent,—and that talent was marvelous,—the flesh of the heron seemed tough and leathery, and by none was it accepted without a protest but by Wagram and Marengo, who left not a bone.
It is true that, in times of dearth, the natives are glad of owls, falcons, and even of martens; but the reason of it is, it must be confessed, that they cannot help it.
On the 14th of August, the Fair Rambler had to slip through the windings of a narrow gorge between very steep hillocks by the bank of the river. This time, so steep was the pass, so rugged the track, as though it had been the ravine-bed of a torrent, that, despite all precautions, an accident happened. Luckily, it was not one of the wheels that was broken, but one of the shafts. The repairs took but little time, and a few pieces of rope set matters right again.
After passing, on one bank of the river, the village of Suquonyilla, and, on the other, the village of Newi-cargut, on the creek of the same name, the journey went on without any hindrance. Not a hill was to be seen. One immense plain spread out farther than the eye could reach. Three or four rios intersected it; at this season, when rain is scarce, their beds were quite dried up. At the times of storms and snow, it would have been impossible to keep up the itinerary in these parts.
When crossing one of these creeks, the Milo-cargut, in which there was barely a foot of water, Mr. Cascabel remarked that there was a dam across it.
“Well!” said he, “when they went to the trouble of damming this creek, they might as well have made a bridge over it! It would have been more useful in times of flood!”
“No doubt, father,” answered John. “But the engineers who built this dam would not have been capable of constructing a bridge!”
“Why so?”
“Because they are four-footed engineers, otherwise called beavers.”
John was not mistaken, and they were able to admire the work of these industrious animals, who take care to build their dam in conformity with the current and to regulate its height according to the usual low-water level of the creek. The very slope given to the sides of the dam had been calculated in view of a greater power of resistance to the force of the waters.
“And still,” cried Sander, “these beavers never went to school to learn lessons.”
“They had no need of going,” answered Mr. Sergius. “Of what use is science, which is sometimes at fault, when you have instinct, which is always right? This dam, my child, the beavers have constructed it, just as ants make their nests, just as spiders weave their webs, just as bees contrive the combs in their hives, in fine just as trees and shrubs bring forth fruits and flowers. No fumbling about, on their part; no improving either. Indeed there are no improvements to make here. The beaver of our day is as perfect in his work as the first beaver that appeared on this globe. The power of improving does not belong to animals, it is man's own; he alone can rise from one improvement to another in the domain of art, of industry, and of sciences. Let us give free scope to our admiration for this marvelous instinct of animals, which nables them to create such things. But let us consider such accomplishments only as the work of nature!”
“Quite so, Mr. Sergius,” said John, “I fully understand your remark. Therein lies the difference between instinct and reason. On the whole, reason is superior to instinct, although it be likely to err.”
“Most undoubtedly, my friend,” replied Mr. Sergius, “and the errings of reason, successively recognized and repaired, constitute but so much headway on the path of progress.”
“In any case,” repeated Sander, “I keep to what I said! Animals can do without going to school.”
“Right, but men are only animals when they have not gone to school!” retorted Mr. Sergius.
“Very well, very well!” exclaimed Cornelia, always very practical in household matters. “Are your beavers good to eat?”
“Of course,” said Kayette.
“I even read,” added John, “that the tail of the animal is excellent!”
They were unable to verify the statement, for there were no beavers in the creek, or if there were any, they were not to be caught.
After leaving the bed of the Milo-cargut, the Fair Rambler went through Sachertelontin village, in the very heart of the Co-Yukon district. On Kayette's recommendation, certain precautions had to be taken by our friends in their intercourse with the natives owing to the thieving propensities of the latter. As they surrounded the vehicle rather closely, care had to be taken that they should not enter it. Besides, a few glass baubles, liberally offered to the principal chiefs of the tribe, produced a salutary effect, and the episode passed off without any unpleasantness.
The itinerary, however, became once more complicated with a certain amount of difficulties, skirting as it did the narrow base of the “ramparts”; but it had been impossible to avoid them without venturing into a more mountainous country.
The speed of the journey was affected thereby, and still it was now advisable not to tarry. The temperature began to feel coldish, if not during the day, at least at night—quite a normal occurrence at this season, since the region lay within a few degrees only of the polar circle.
The Cascabels had now reached a point where the river describes a rather sudden angle toward the north. They had to follow it up to the confluent of the Co-Yukuk, which joins it by means of two tortuous streams. One whole day was spent in finding a fordable spot, nor did Kayette make it out without trouble, as the level of the stream had already risen.
Once on the other side of this affluent, the Fair Rambler resumed its southerly course, and went down through a somewhat uneven district, to Nulato fort.
This post, the commercial importance of which is considerable, belongs to the Russo-American Company. It is the most northerly trading station in Western America, being situated, according to Sir Frederick Whymper's observations, in latitude 60°42'[2] and longitude 155°36'.
And yet, in this part of the Alaskan province, it would have been difficult to believe one's self in such high latitude. The soil was unquestionably more fertile than in the neighborhood of Fort Yukon. Everywhere trees of fair growth could be seen, everywhere pasture lands carpeted with green grass, not to speak of vast plains that might be profitably tilled, for the clayey soil is covered over with a thick layer of humus. The land is, moreover, abundantly watered, thanks to the meanderings of the river Nulato, whose general direction is southwest, and to the network of creeks or “carguts” stretching out toward the northeast. However, the only signs of vegetable production are a few bushes laden with wild berries, and utterly abandoned to the whims of nature.
The laying out of Fort Nulato is as follows: around the buildings, a belt of palisades, protected by two towerets, which Indians are forbidden to enter at night, and even during the day, when there are many of them together; within the precincts, huts, sheds, and wooden stores, with windows where the skin of the seal's bladder is a substitute for glass. Nothing more rudimentary, the reader will perceive, than these stations in far-away America.
There, Mr. Cascabel and his friends received a warm welcome. In those out-of-the-way spots on the new continent, outside the tracks of regular intercommunications, is not the advent of a few visitors always a relief to monotony, a real source of enjoyment, and are they not always welcome for the news they bring from such distances?
Fort Nulato was inhabited by a score of employes, of Russian or American origin, who placed themselves at the disposal of the Cascabels, to supply them with anything they might need. Not only do they receive regular supplies from the Company, but they are in a position to add to their resources during the fine season, either hunting the reindeer and the moose, or fishing in the waters of the Yukon. There they find abundance of certain fish, particularly of “nalima,” a fish more generally used for the feeding of the dogs, but one the liver of which is rather valued by those who are accustomed to eat it.
Naturally the inhabitants of Nulato were somewhat surprised when they descried the Fair Rambler, and not less so, when Mr. Cascabel told them of his intention to return to Europe by way of Siberia. Really, those French folks doubt of nothing! As to the first portion of the journey, as far as Port Clarence, they stated their belief that there would be no obstacles to it, and that it would be completed before the plains of Alaska were gripped by the first chill of winter.
On the advice of Mr. Sergius, they resolved to purchase some of the articles necessary to the trip across the steppes. And first of all, it was advisable to get a few pair of those spectacles that are indispensable over immense tracts whitened with winter rime and snow. The Indians bartered a dozen of them against a few glass trinkets. They were only wooden spectacles without any glass, or rather they were a sort of winkers covering up the eye in such a way as to allow it to see but through a narrow chink. This is sufficient to enable you to get along without too much trouble, and saves you from the ophthalmia which would be a necessary consequence of the reflection from the snow. The whole staff made a trial of the winkers, and declared they could easily get accustomed to them.
Next to this sight-saving apparatus, a covering for the feet had to be thought of, for you do not promenade in thin boots or shoes through steppes subjected to the hardships of Siberian winters.
The Nulato stores supplied them with several pair of boots made of seal-skins—of those best suited to long journeys over an ice-bound soil, and rendered waterproof by a coating of grease.
This led Mr. Cascabel to make, in his sententious style, this very just remark:
“It is always advantageous to clothe yourself in the same way as the animals of the country you go through! Since Siberia is the land of seals, let us dress like seals.”
“Seals with spectacles on!” added Sander, whose sally received the father's approbation.
Two days were spent by our party at Fort Nulato, a sufficient rest for spirited steeds. Port Clarence was eagerly wished for. On the 21st of August, the Fair Rambler started onward, and from this moment, finally withdrew from the right bank of the big river.
As a matter of fact, the Yukon was now flowing straight for the southwest, to empty itself into Norton Bay. If they had kept on with it in this new direction, they would have needlessly lengthened their journey, since the mouth of the river lies below Behring Strait. From there, they would have been obliged to turn up toward Port Clarence along a coast indented with fiords, bays, and creeks, where Gladiator and Vermont would needlessly have worn themselves out.
The cold was becoming more biting. If the very oblique rays of the sun still gave a great light, they gave very little heat. Thick clouds, gathering in a grayish mass, threatened to fall in a shower of snow. Small game was growing scarce, and the migratory birds were commencing their flight southward in search of milder winter quarters.
To this day,—a blessing to be thankful for—Mr. Cascabel and his party had not been too severely tried by the fatigues of the journey. In truth, they must have had iron constitutions,—the result, evidently, of their nomadic life, the habit of acclimatizing themselves under any and every sky, and the muscular training of their bodily exercises. There was then every hope that they all should reach Port Clarence safe and sound.
And it came to pass thus, on the 5th of September, after a trip of fifteen hundred miles from Sitka, and almost three thousand three hundred from Sacramento, say after a journey of over five thousand miles in seven months through western America.
1↑ Latitude of Trondhjem in Norway.
2↑ Typographical error. Verne: 64°42'.