The Land of Nome. Lanier McKee
Having finally collected the bulk of our freight, we put up a tent on the sand-spit across the Snake River, half a mile perhaps from the heart of the metropolis, the only ground except the beach which was not tundra. This place was already becoming thickly populated with temporary tenants like ourselves, small stores of various kinds, and lodging-tents, not to mention a fat individual near us who, decorated and bedecked with medals, hung out her sign—"Lady Barber." Our camp was about fifty yards from the ocean. Driftwood from Siberia, tossed up by unusually severe storms, lay about in quantity. V——, with his mining partner, R——, camped with us, and all took turns in guarding the provisions, cooking, and doing camp chores generally, during this period of deliberation. At times during the day it was very warm—the sun blazed down hot—but toward six o'clock in the evening it became chilly, and at night it was positively and uncomfortably cold; for, be it remembered, all through that section of the country, a few feet from the surface, and this, too, in the case of the tundra, perennial layers of ice and frozen ground are met. Putting a flooring to the tent, and the purchase of some reindeer-skins to fill the want caused by the "lifting" of our sleeping-robes and the mysterious disappearance of the folding cots, made the nights much more agreeable, and, furthermore, we were becoming inured to the climatic conditions. The midnight sun stood up in the heavens small and red like a toy balloon; and it was the perpetual daylight, aggravated through the whiteness of the tent, which, aided by the cold, made those first nights almost sleepless ones. Near us, living in a small hut fortified with driftwood and canvas, was a queer little old German-American, who was one of the pioneers in the Nome region. He was addressed as "Captain Cook," and, with a twinkle in his bright eye, he referred to his abode as his "castle." We secured his good will, and the old fellow related some of his interesting experiences. He said, now that he had accumulated some gold, he was going home in the autumn to see his "leetle wife in Kansas City," whom he had not seen for many years.
Westward along the beach, for miles, all kinds of contrivances, from the simple hand-"rocker" to complicated machinery, were being used to get the gold; but the men did not seem cheerful in their work, and most of them would freely and candidly admit that they were not making even good wages. Among the many strange sights on the beach was an enormous machine, built upon huge barrels, which some of our friends with the blue-prints were making ready to dredge gold from the sea. It represented a great deal of money. When subsequently launched, and tons of sand had been taken by it from beneath the sea, not five cents' worth of gold was found to compensate for the enormous expense and labor. Not far away, at a point which was to be its terminal, men were landing as best they could the machinery, rails, and ties for the railroad of the Wild Goose Company, which was to extend for several miles back over the tundra to the rich placer-mines on the creeks.
Hundreds were living in tents upon the beach, thanks to the clemency of the weather. Within a very short distance from our camp, with their freight piled about, were the "syndicate," and quite unenthusiastic. There was defection in their camp. Actually, the "syndicate" were selling out, and without a struggle. Several of its members very soon bade us farewell, and pulled out for what they thought the "real thing"—quartz-mines in Oregon. And yet some of the mines on Anvil Creek even then, and with only a few men shoveling the pay dirt into the sluice-boxes, were turning out from ten to fifteen thousand dollars a day. To be sure, this was for the very few only, but, at the same time, it went to prove that the country was not a fraud. Even the dirt in those miserable Nome streets contained "colors," or small particles of gold; and it is an incongruous thought that, of all the cities of the world, Nome City, as it is called, most nearly approaches the apocalyptic condition of having its streets paved with gold!
We daily crossed the Snake River on "Gieger's Bridge" when going into the town for investigation and information. Gieger was an enterprising fellow who had built a rough but sufficiently substantial bridge at the mouth of the stream, and, by exacting a toll, he was making a pretty good thing out of it. Frame buildings of the wood of Puget Sound were going up like mushrooms throughout the town, and the noise of saw and hammer denoted that the carpenters were making small fortunes. "Offices" which could scarcely hold more than a chair and a table were for rent at one hundred to one hundred and fifty dollars a month, and these, too, frequently were merely spaces penned off in connection with stores or bar-rooms. Absurd prices were demanded for town lots of very uncertain title. I know of one instance where four thousand dollars was given for a lot on the main street. The saloon which bore the proud sign "The Only Second-Class Saloon in Alaska" seemed to be the best appointed and to be playing to the largest audiences; but it was then too early for the miners to come in with their gold dust, and the gamblers, therefore, were not doing a harvest business. We met college-bred men. A man I had known at college was doing business in a tent pending the building of a bank with safe-deposit vaults, of which he was the general manager. Another, with whom I had attended law school, and whom I had never seen or thought of since, had come to Nome in the first rush from Seattle, and now, situated in Easy Street, was one of the leaders of the Nome bar. The negro Pullman-car porter, whom we had last seen at San Antonio, Texas, on our way out from the East, reintroduced himself to me on the street, to my infinite surprise, and wanted to know if I could give him work of some kind, which I was not then in position to do. We may have been responsible for his infection with the gold fever.
The place was really under martial law. The town government, useless and corrupt, was practically nil; and as it was believed that the federal judge, with his staff of assistants, would not arrive until August, it was the plain duty of the military to preserve order and, so far as possible, leave legal matters in statu quo until the advent of the civil authorities as provided by the laws which had been recently enacted for Alaska.
For various reasons which seemed good and sufficient, we decided to quit Nome and go to Council City. We knew that Mr. Lane's company had large interests in that region—that he believed in it; and we knew people on the Lane who had gone thither direct on reaching Nome. It was said, too, to be a healthful country, with plenty of good water and even a belt of timber. One did not hear it much discussed at Nome—people did not seem to know much about it—but what was said was favorable. As to the means of reaching it, information was scanty, and that somewhat discouraging, but certainly the thing to do was to go by boat east about seventy-five miles to the mouth of Golovin Bay, from which point we should have to travel up shallow rivers some fifty or sixty miles to Council City. C——, who had been a pretty sick man, but who had declined to follow certain "sound advice" and return home (having joined us from the Lane), and G——, another fellow-passenger, thought the move a good one, and agreed to come with us. We four, therefore, making selections from our respective supplies, sold or otherwise disposed of provisions which were less essential, for the carrying of freight and supplies in that impossible country, however short the actual distance, is a very serious and expensive matter. V—— and R—— were building their boat, though they had not yet decided in which direction to go; but they agreed to communicate with us somehow during the season. A tent labeled "Undertaker," with the American flag on top, had just been put up for business across the way from us; and it seemed fitting that we should celebrate the Fourth of July by leaving Nome. This was accomplished on the little steamer Dora, belonging to the Alaska Commercial Company, not much to look at, but it afforded the greatest comfort and luxury we had known since the days at San Francisco, and, furthermore, it carried drinkable water.
III
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