He Naturally Expected A
Return Visit, And When We Called At His House, A Mile Or Two Down The
Fiord, He Said His Wives Were Out In The Rain Gathering Fresh Berries
To Complete A Feast Prepared For Us.
We remained, however, only a few
minutes, for I was not aware of this arrangement or of Mr. Young's
promise until after leaving the house.
Anxiety to get around Cape
Wimbledon was the cause of my haste, fearing the storm might
increase. On account of this ignorance, no apologies were offered
him, and the upshot was that the good Hoona became very angry. We
succeeded, however, in the evening of the same day, in explaining our
haste, and by sincere apologies and presents made peace.
After a hard struggle we got around stormy Wimbledon and into the
next fiord to the northward (Klunastucksana - Dundas Bay). A cold,
drenching rain was falling, darkening but not altogether hiding its
extraordinary beauty, made up of lovely reaches and side fiords,
feathery headlands and islands, beautiful every one and charmingly
collocated. But how it rained, and how cold it was, and how weary we
were pulling most of the time against the wind! The branches of this
bay are so deep and so numerous that, with the rain and low clouds
concealing the mountain landmarks, we could hardly make out the main
trends. While groping and gazing among the islands through the misty
rain and clouds, we discovered wisps of smoke at the foot of a
sheltering rock in front of a mountain, where a choir of cascades
were chanting their rain songs. Gladly we made for this camp, which
proved to belong to a rare old Hoona sub-chief, so tall and wide and
dignified in demeanor he looked grand even in the sloppy weather, and
every inch a chief in spite of his bare legs and the old shirt and
draggled, ragged blanket in which he was dressed. He was given to
much handshaking, gripping hard, holding on and looking you gravely
in the face while most emphatically speaking in Thlinkit, not a word
of which we understood until interpreter John came to our help. He
turned from one to the other of us, declaring, as John interpreted,
that our presence did him good like food and fire, that he would
welcome white men, especially teachers, and that he and all his
people compared to ourselves were only children. When Mr. Young
informed him that a missionary was about to be sent to his people, he
said he would call them all together four times and explain that a
teacher and preacher were coming and that they therefore must put
away all foolishness and prepare their hearts to receive them and
their words. He then introduced his three children, one a naked lad
five or six years old who, as he fondly assured us, would soon be a
chief, and later to his wife, an intelligent-looking woman of whom he
seemed proud. When we arrived she was out at the foot of the cascade
mountain gathering salmon-berries. She came in dripping and loaded. A
few of the fine berries saved for the children she presented, proudly
and fondly beginning with the youngest, whose only clothing was a
nose-ring and a string of beads. She was lightly appareled in a
cotton gown and bit of blanket, thoroughly bedraggled, but after
unloading her berries she retired with a dry calico gown around the
corner of a rock and soon returned fresh as a daisy and with becoming
dignity took her place by the fireside. Soon two other berry-laden
women came in, seemingly enjoying the rain like the bushes and trees.
They put on little clothing so that they may be the more easily
dried, and as for the children, a thin shirt of sheeting is the most
they encumber themselves with, and get wet and half dry without
seeming to notice it while we shiver with two or three dry coats.
They seem to prefer being naked. The men also wear but little in wet
weather. When they go out for all day they put on a single blanket,
but in choring around camp, getting firewood, cooking, or looking
after their precious canvas, they seldom wear anything, braving wind
and rain in utter nakedness to avoid the bother of drying clothes. It
is a rare sight to see the children bringing in big chunks of
firewood on their shoulders, balancing in crossing boulders with
firmly set bow-legs and bulging back muscles.
We gave Ka-hood-oo-shough, the old chief, some tobacco and rice and
coffee, and pitched our tent near his hut among tall grass. Soon
after our arrival the Taylor Bay sub-chief came in from the opposite
direction from ours, telling us that he came through a cut-off
passage not on our chart. As stated above, we took pains to
conciliate him and soothe his hurt feelings. Our words and gifts, he
said, had warmed his sore heart and made him glad and comfortable.
The view down the bay among the islands was, I thought, the finest of
this kind of scenery that I had yet observed.
The weather continued cold and rainy. Nevertheless Mr. Young and I
and our crew, together with one of the Hoonas, an old man who acted
as guide, left camp to explore one of the upper arms of the bay,
where we were told there was a large glacier. We managed to push the
canoe several miles up the stream that drains the glacier to a point
where the swift current was divided among rocks and the banks were
overhung with alders and willows. I left the canoe and pushed up the
right bank past a magnificent waterfall some twelve hundred feet
high, and over the shoulder of a mountain, until I secured a good
view of the lower part of the glacier. It is probably a lobe of the
Taylor Bay or Brady Glacier.
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