Life at Puget Sound: With Sketches of Travel in Washington Territory, British Columbia, Oregon,Cali Part 9

We spent one night in a myrtle-grove. The trees leaned gracefully together, and the whole grove for miles was made of beautiful arched aisles. Coming from our s.h.a.ggy firs, and the rough undergrowth that is always beneath them, to these smooth, glossy leaves, and clear, open s.p.a.ces of fine gra.s.s, was like entering fairy-land, or the "good green wood" of the ballads. I looked for princes and lovers wandering among them, and felt quite transformed myself. The driver I regarded as a different man from that moment; to think that he should show so much good taste as to draw up for the night in that lovely place.

In coming from the mountain, we had to ride a good deal of the way without seeing where we were going; and once we found ourselves with a great roof over our heads, hollowed out of the solid rock, and covered with dripping maiden's-hair. All the rock about was like flint, and worn into strange shapes by the water.

One day we were accompanied quite a distance through the woods by a female chief, Yaquina. I think that she is a celebrated woman in Oregon, and that Yaquina Bay was named for her. She was mounted on a little pony, and riding along in a free and joyous way, looking about at the green leaves and the suns.h.i.+ne. I thought of Victoria with her heavy crown, that gives her the sick headache, and wondered how she would like to exchange with her.

We were quite interested in some of the people we saw, one of them especially,--a man whose house had no windows. We felt at first as if we could not stop with him; but he came out to our wagon, looking so bright and clean, and had such an air of welcome as he said, "We are not very well provided, but we are very accommodating," that we at once decided to stop, particularly as the driver said the horses could not possibly go enough farther to get to any better place that night. He ushered us in very hospitably, and looking round the room--the chairs being rather scarce--said, "There are plenty of seats--on the floor." I saw some books on a shelf, and, going to look at them, found "Mill's Logic," and "Tyndall on Sound," and several others, scientific and historical. We found him, as he said we should, eager to make us comfortable. He noticed that the baby did not look well, and went out into the woods, and cut down a little tree that he said would do her good, and urged us to take it with us. He said that he was generally called in by his neighbors, in case of sickness or accident. He had learned to help himself in most ways, as he came there originally with only fifty cents in his pocket.

Another old man, at the next stopping-place, made a beautiful picture, as he sat inside his open door, in a great, rough, home-made armchair, with a black bear-skin for a pillow,--a large, strong man, with long, s.h.i.+ning, silver hair. We were very much pleased to find that we were to spend the night there, he looked so interesting. All his talk was about fights with wild beasts and Indians, and cutting down the big trees, and making the terrible roads we had been over. There was a good deal of refinement and gentleness, too, about him. He had in his arms a dear little child. He had adopted her, he said, because his were all grown up. She seemed like a soft little bird, so timid and clinging.

When we came to see our accommodations, we were delighted to find every thing so clean and agreeable. We expressed our pleasure to him, and he said, "Yes; a woman, I think, will go a mile or two farther for a clean sheet; and even a man does not altogether like to be tucked into bed with a stranger;" which suggests what the customs are there.

DECEMBER 20, 1873.

We were startled to learn, a few days since, that one of our neighbors had been found dead,--a man about whom there had always been a good deal of mystery in the village. He lived alone, and never spoke of any relations or friends. He was a man of very courteous manners, but on this point he would allow no questions. There was no one to notify of his death, and n.o.body appeared to claim his property.

The first time we ever saw him, he was riding in the woods, on a handsome horse, with a bright scarlet blanket. He looked so picturesque, and there was so much grace and dignity about him, that I felt as if he did not belong anywhere about here. It seemed as if he might have come riding out of some foreign land, or some distant age,--like a knight going to a tournament.

When we came to know him, we could not help wondering what could induce him to live here. He was thought to be Southern, and it was generally supposed that some difficulties arising at the time of the war had brought him here. He seemed disposed to make the best of our dull life, and always had something that interested him to show us,--a new flower, or curious sh.e.l.l, or some pretty Indian child.

The last time we saw him was Sat.u.r.day night. It must have been only a few hours before his death, but he appeared in his usual fine health.

The next we knew of him was Monday morning, when some men who lived near us said that nothing had been seen of him since his light disappeared Sat.u.r.day night. As he did not open his house, as usual, on Sunday, they said to themselves, "He does not like to be disturbed," and waited till Monday, when they went to the window; and the dog inside, hearing the noise, came and tore down the curtain, and went back and sat down beside his master, where he lay on the bed, and licked his face; and they saw that he was dead. He was tenderly buried by the people of the village, without religious ceremonies; but they dropped little green branches into his grave in the way of the Free Masons. I was surprised at the delicacy of feeling shown in regard to his desire to remain unknown, rude curiosity concerning any thing peculiar being everywhere so common.

MAY 20, 1874.

This afternoon we went out a little farther than usual in our boat, and saw a herd of whales in the distance,--great free creatures, puffing and snorting, spouting and frolicking, together. The boatman said that a flap from one of their tails would send our boat clean out of the water, and turned hastily about, hallooing in the wildest way, to keep them off.

On our way back we pa.s.sed some deserted buildings on a sandy point. We inquired about them, and were told that they were the commencement of a city, originally called "New York;" but, having disappointed its founders, the Indian name of _Alki_ (By and By) was given to it in derision.

We saw in the woods near here some magnificent rhododendrons, ten or twelve feet tall, covered with cl.u.s.ters of rose-colored flowers.

One of the boatmen has a pet seal that we sometimes take out in the boat with us. We put him occasionally into the water, feeling that he must be longing to go; but he always stays near the boat, and comes back if we whistle to him, and seems quite companionable. Who would have believed that one of these cold sea creatures could ever have been enticed into such intimacy? Our only idea of them, before this experience, had been of a little dark head here and there in the distance, in the midst of great wastes of water, where, as Lowell says, they--

"Solemnly lift their faces gray, Making it yet more lonely."

One of the captains we sailed with told us that he had at one time a gray eagle he had tamed when young, that often took coasting-voyages with him, leaving the vessel occasionally, and returning to it, even when it had sailed many miles; never, by mistake, alighting on another craft instead of his. Sometimes, when out on a voyage to San Francisco, it would leave the vessel, and return to his house on Port Discovery Bay.

OCTOBER 15, 1874.

As we were pa.s.sing along near the sh.o.r.e to-day, in our boat, we saw an Indian woman sitting alone on the beach, moaning, and dipping her hands continually in the water. Her canoe was drawn up beside her. We stopped, and asked her if any one was dead. She pointed to a square box[2] in the canoe, and said, "_mika tenas_" (my child). She said, afterwards, that she was as tall as I, and "_hyas closhe_" (so good)!

As the poor Indian mother looked round at the waves and the sky to comfort her, I thought, what is there, after all, that civilization can offer, beyond what is given by Nature alone, to every one in deepest need?

Yeomans, our old Port Angeles friend, called on us to-day. Every year since we left there, he has included us in his annual visit to the Seattle tribes. Each time we see him I think must be the last, he looks so very old; but every autumn brings him back, apparently unchanged. He seems to alter as slowly as the old firs about him. I am surprised always at his light tread; he bears so little weight on his feet, but glides along as if he were still in the woods, and would not have a leaf rustle.

FOOTNOTES:

[2] The crouching position, the favorite one of the Indians in life, is preserved by them in the disposition of their dead.

XII.

Puget Sound to San Francisco.--A Model Vessel.--The Captain's Relation to his Men.--Rough Water.--Beauty of the Sea.--Golden-Gate Entrance.--San Francisco Streets.--Santa Barbara.--Its Invalids.--Our Spanish Neighbors.--The Mountains and the Bay.--Kelp.--Old Mission.--A Simoom.--The Channel Islands.--A New Type of Chinamen.--An Old Spanish House.

SAN FRANCISCO, March 20, 1875.

We reached here last night, after a rough voyage from Puget Sound. We had all our worst weather first. After three or four days came a bright, clear morning, and the captain called me on deck to see the sunrise. It was all so changed, so beautiful, so joyous,--all around the exquisite green light flas.h.i.+ng through the waves as they broke; and as far off as we could see, in every direction, the water leaping and tossing itself into spray. A strong wind had taken the vessel in charge; and it flew swiftly over the water, with no changes needed, no altering of sails, no orders of any kind, and n.o.body seemed to be about. The captain fixed me a hammock in a sail; and I lay there hour after hour, with no company but the warm, bright suns.h.i.+ne straying over the deck. I felt as if it were an enchanted vessel, on which I was travelling alone.

Cleopatra's barge could not have been more carefully kept. When the men came out to their daily work, all their spare moments were spent in polis.h.i.+ng and cleaning every little tarnished or dingy spot. At first it used to seem to me like a wanton risk of life, with the vessel rearing and plunging so that we did not dare to stir on deck, to see them climb the tall masts, and cling there, sc.r.a.ping and oiling them, to bring out the veining of the wood. Perhaps it was partly as a discipline in steadiness, that they were directed to do it,--to get used to working at such a height. What a contrast to the tawdriness of the steamers we had been accustomed to, to see every thing about us made beautiful by exquisite neatness, done chiefly, too, for their own eyes! I saw, then, why the suns.h.i.+ne was so pleasant on the deck; it was because there was nothing about the vessel out of keeping with the pure beauty of nature.

I felt safer, too, to think how all things, small and great, conformed to the laws of Heaven.

One day I asked the captain if he had many of the same men with him as on the last voyage we took with him. I remembered his pointing out to me then the fair, honest face of a young Swedish sailor at the wheel. He said most of his men made many voyages with him. I spoke of another captain, who told us his men were almost all new every time. He said that was generally the master's fault; that a captain should not speak to his men just the same in fair weather and in foul. I looked with interest, afterward, to see his management of them, and found that, while every thing went on smoothly, he took pains to converse with them, and to become somewhat acquainted with each man. Then, in emergencies, his brief, clear directions were immediately comprehended, and promptly obeyed. I began to understand the secret of his short voyages (for his vessel had the reputation of being the fastest sailer between San Francisco and the Sound): it was partly from his management of the s.h.i.+p, and partly from his management of the men.

We started in a snow-storm, and at first every thing seemed to be against us. He had told us that March was not generally a very quiet month on the water. We took a tug-boat to tow us out to the entrance of the Straits; but, as the weather grew continually worse, the steamer was obliged to leave us, with wind dead ahead, and against that we had to beat out. As soon as we had made Cape Flattery, the wind changed, and became what would have been a good wind for getting out, but was just the opposite of what we wanted for going down the coast. These reverses the captain received with unruffled serenity; although he dearly delights in his quick trips, and was ready to seize with alacrity the least breath in his favor. After all, he made one of his best voyages, by the help of the strong, steady wind that drove him on at the last. It was perhaps as much, however, from his vigilance in watching when there was so little to take advantage of, and seizing all the little bits of help it was possible to get, as it was from the great help of that powerful wind; for other vessels that started with us, and even days before us, have not come in yet, and they all had the great wind alike.

R---- ventured to inquire of the captain one day, when we were beating about the mouth of the Straits, as to the feasibility of going into Neeah Bay, while it was yet possible to do so; but the captain said he preferred to beat about, and then he was ready to take advantage of the first chance in his favor, which he might lose if he were in shelter.

One day it was more than I could enjoy. The wind roared so loud, and the sound of the waves was so heavy, that I retreated to my berth, and lay down; but I could not keep my mind off the thought of how deep the water was under us. After a while I went on deck and sat there again, and the vessel began to plunge so that it seemed as if it were trying to stand upon one end. I felt so frightened that I thought I would speak to the captain, and ask him if he ever knew a lumber-vessel to tip over; and if I dared I would suggest that he should carry a little less sail. I knew that he was once on a vessel that turned bottom upward in the Straits, and he was left on the overturned hull for three days, in a snow-storm, before help came to him. I spoke to him, and he did not give me much of an answer; but, a little while after, he came to me, and said, "Are you able to go to the forward part of the s.h.i.+p with me? I should like to have you, if you can." So he helped me along to the bow, where it seemed almost too frightful to go, and said, "Kneel down;" and knelt down by me, and said, "Look under the s.h.i.+p." It was one of the most beautiful sights I ever saw,--such a height of foam, and rainbows over it. The dark water beside it seemed to be full of little, sharp, s.h.i.+ning needles. I suppose it was moving so quickly that made the elongated drops appear so. Then he took me to the other side, that was in shadow; and there the water was whirled into the most beautiful shapes, standing out distinct from each other, from the swiftness of the motion, that held them poised, like exquisite combinations of snowflakes, only more airy.

Presently he said, "Men don't often speak of these things to each other, but I feel the beauty of it. Nights when the vessel is moving so fast, I come and watch here for hours and hours, and dream over it." When I thought about it afterward, I wondered how he could know that the way to answer my fear was to show me what was so beautiful. I was not afraid any more, whatever the vessel did.

Those three days and nights of lonely watching, floating about in the Straits, must have been a great experience to him, and made him different from what he would otherwise have been; certainly different from most men.

Before sunrise, yesterday morning, we pa.s.sed the "Seal-Rocks;" as the light just began to reveal a little of the dark, dreamy hills on each side of the long, beautiful entrance to the harbor. A flood of light filled it as we entered, and it must have looked just as it did when it was first named the "Golden Gate." All along, for miles, the water throws itself up into the air, and falls in fountains on the rocky sh.o.r.e. I cannot conceive of a more beautiful harbor in the world; and, as we were two or three hours in coming from the sea up to the city, we had time enough to enjoy it.

The southern headland of the entrance is Point Lobos (_Punta de los Lobos_, Point of Wolves); the northern, Point Bonita (Beautiful Point).

MARCH 25, 1875.

We could never have stepped out of our wilderness into a stranger city than this. From the variety of foreign names and faces that I see in the streets, I should think I were travelling over the whole world. On one side of us lives a Danish family, on the other a French. I walk along and look up at the signs,--"Scandinavian Society;" "Yang Tzy a.s.sociation of Shanghae;" "Nuevo Continente Restaurant Mejicano;" "Angelo Beffa, Helvetia Exchange," with the white cross and plumed hat of Switzerland.

One street is all Chinese, with s.h.i.+ny-haired women, and little mandarins with long cues of braided red silk. The babies seem to be dressed in imitation of the idol in the temple; their tight caps have the same tinsel and tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, and the resemblance their little dry faces bear to it is very curious.

Next to "Tung Wo," "Sun Loy," and "k.u.m Lum," come "Witkowski,"

"Bukofski," "Rowminski,"--who keep Russian caviar, etc. Some day, when we feel a little tired of our ordinary food, we think of trying the caviar, or perhaps a gelatinous bird's nest, for variety.

Besides the ordinary residents, we meet many sailors from the hundreds of vessels always in the harbor,--Greeks, Lascars, Malays, and Kanakas.

Their picturesque costumes and Oriental faces add still more to the foreign look of the place.

In the midst of the greatest rush and confusion of one of the princ.i.p.al business streets, stands a man with an electrical machine, bawling in stentorian tones, "Nothing like it to steady the nerves, and strengthen the heart,"--ready, for a small fee, to administer on the spot a current of greater or less intensity to whoever may desire it. The contrast is most ludicrous between the need that undoubtedly exists for some such quieting influence, and the utter inefficacy of it, if applied, under such circ.u.mstances.