Alaska Part 49

If an Aleut were injured, or offended, after the introduction of Christianity, he received and bore the insult in silence. They had no oaths or violent epithets in their language; and they would rather commit suicide than to receive a blow. The sting that lies in cruel words they dreaded as keenly.

Veniaminoff found that the Aleuts would steal nothing more than a few leaves of tobacco, a few swallows of brandy, or a little food; and these articles but rarely.

The most striking trait of character displayed by the Aleut was, and still is, his patience. He never complained, even when slowly starving to death. He sat by the sh.o.r.e; and if food were not offered to him, he would not ask. He was never known to sigh, nor to groan, nor to shed tears.

These people were found to be very sensitive, however, and capable of deep emotion, even though it was never revealed in their faces. They were exceedingly fond of, and tender with, their children, and readily interpreted a look of contempt or ridicule, which invariably offended in the highest degree.

The most beautiful thing recorded of the Aleut is that when one has done him a favor or kindness, and has afterward offended him, he does not forget the former favor, but permits it to cancel the offence.

They scorn lying, hypocrisy, and exaggeration; and they never betray a secret. They are so hospitable that they will deny themselves to give to the stranger that is in need. They detest a braggart, but they never dispute--not even when they know that their own opinion is the correct one.

Veniaminoff admitted that the Aleuts who had lived among the Russians were pa.s.sionately addicted to the use of liquor and tobacco. But even with their drunkenness, their uncleanness, and their immorality, the Aleutian character seems to have possessed so many admirable, and even unusual, traits that, if the training and everyday influences of these people had been of a different nature from what they have been since they lost Veniaminoff, they would have, ere this, been able to overcome their inherited and acquired vices, and to have become useful and desirable citizens.

They were formerly of a revengeful nature, but after coming under the influence of Veniaminoff, no instance of revenge was discovered by him.

They learned readily, with but little teaching, not only mechanical things, but those, also, which require deep thought--such as chess, at which they became experts.

One became an excellent navigator, and made charts which were followed by other voyagers for many years. Others worked skilfully in ivory, and the dark-eyed women wove their dreams into the most precious basketry of the world.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII

We sailed into the lovely bay of Unalaska on the fourth day of July. The entire village, native and white, had gone on a picnic to the hills.

We spent the afternoon loitering about the deserted streets and the green and flowery hills. One could sit contentedly for a week upon the hills,--as the natives used to sit upon the roofs of their barabaras,--doing nothing but looking down upon the idyllic loveliness s.h.i.+mmering in every direction.

In the centre of the town rises the Greek-Russian church, green-roofed and bulbous-domed, adding the final touch of mysticism and poetry to this already enchanting scene.

At sunset the mists gathered, slowly, delicately, beautifully. They moved in softly through the same strait by which we had entered--little rose-colored ma.s.ses that drifted up to meet the violet-tinted ones from the other end of the bay. In the centre of the water valley they met and mixed together, and, in their new and more marvellous coloring, pushed up about the town and the lower slopes. Out of them lifted and shone the green roof and domes of the church; more brilliantly above them, napped thick and soft as velvet, glowed the hills; and more l.u.s.trously against the saffron sky flashed the pearl of the higher peaks.

There was a gay dinner party aboard the DORA that night. Afterward, we all attended a dance. There was only one white woman in the hall besides my friend and myself; and we three were belles! We danced with every man who asked us to dance, to the most wonderful music I have ever heard. One of the musicians played a violin with his hands and a French harp with his mouth, both at the same time--besides making quite as much noise with one foot as he did with both of the instruments together.

There were several good-looking Aleutian girls at the dance. They had pretty, slender figures, would have been considered well dressed in any small village in the states, and danced with exceeding grace and ease.

We went to this dance not without some qualms of various kinds; but we went for the same reason that "Cyanide Bill" told us he had journeyed three times to the sh.o.r.es of the "Frozen Ocean"--"just to see."

Toward midnight a pretty and stylishly gowned young woman came in with an escort and joined in the dancing. As she whirled past us, with diamonds flas.h.i.+ng from her hands, ears, and neck, my inquiring Scotch friend asked a gentleman with whom she was dancing, "Who is the pretty dark-eyed lady? We have not seen her before."

She was completely extinguished for some time by his reply, given with the cheerful frankness of the North.

"Oh, that's Nelly, miss. I don't know any other name for her. We just always call her Nelly, miss."

We returned to the steamer, leaving "Nelly" to twinkle on. Our curiosity was entirely satisfied. We went "to see," and we had seen.

Captain Gray might be called "the lord of Unalaska." He is the "great gentleman" of the place. He has for many years managed the affairs of the Alaska Commercial Company, and he has acted as host to almost every traveller who has voyaged to this lovely isle.

After supper, which was served on the steamer at midnight, we were invited to his home "to finish the evening."

"At one o'clock in the morning!" gasped my companion.

"Hours don't count up here," said our captain. "It is broad daylight.

Besides, it is the 4th of July. I think we should accept the invitation."

We did accept it, in the same spirit in which it was given, and it was one of the most profitable of evenings. We found a home of comfort and refinement in the farthest outpost of civilization in the North Pacific.

The hours were spent pleasantly with good music, singing, and reading; and delicate refreshments were served.

The sun shone upon my friend's scandalized face as we returned to our steamer. It was nearly five o'clock.

"I know it was innocent enough," said she, "but think how it _sounds_!--a dance, with only three white women present--not to mention 'Nelly'!--a midnight supper, and then an invitation to 'finish the evening'! It sounds like one of Edith Wharton's novels."

"It's Alaska," said the captain. "You want local color--and you're getting it. But let me tell you that you have never been safer in your life than you have been to-night."

"Safe!" echoed she. "I'm not talking about the safety of it. It's the _form_ of it."

"Form doesn't count, as yet, in the Aleutians," said the captain.

"'There's never a law of G.o.d or man runs north of _fifty-three_!'"

"There's surely never a _social_ law runs north of it," was the scornful reply.

The next morning we went to the great warehouses of the company, to look at old Russian samovars. Captain Gray personally escorted us through their dim, cobwebby, high-raftered s.p.a.ces. There was one long counter covered with samovars, and we began eagerly to examine and price them.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle

DOG-TEAM EXPRESS, NOME]

The cheapest was twenty-five dollars; and the most expensive, more than a hundred.

"But they are all sold," added Captain Gray, gloomily.

"All sold!" we exclaimed, in a breath. "What--_all_? Every one?"

"Yes; every one," he answered mournfully.

"Why, how very odd," said I, "for them all to be sold, and all to be left here."

"Yes," said he, sighing. "The captain of a government cutter bought them for his friends in Boston. He has gone on up into Behring Sea, and will call for them on his return."

Far be it from me to try to buy anything that is not for sale. I thanked him politely for showing them to us; and we went on to another part of the warehouse.

We found nothing else that was already "sold." We bought several holy-lamps, baskets, and other things.

"I'm sorry about the samovars," said I, as I paid Captain Gray.

"So am I," said he. Then he sighed. "There's one, now," said he, after a moment, thoughtfully. "I might--Wait a moment."