The Yakutat Indians are the most westerly branch of the great Thlinket family which inhabits all of southeastern Alaska and a portion of British Columbia. In intelligence they are above the average of Indians generally, and are of a much higher type than the native inhabitants of the older portion of the United States. They are quick to learn the ways of the white man, and are especially shrewd in bargaining. They are canoe Indians par excellence, and pass a large part of their lives on the water in quest of salmon, seals, and sea-otter. During the summer of our visit, about thirty sea-otter were taken. They are usually shot in the primitive manner with copper-pointed arrows, although repeating rifles of the most improved patterns are owned by the natives, in spite of existing laws against selling breech-loading arms to Indians. The fur of the sea-otter is acknowledged to be the most beautiful, and is the most highly prized of all pelts. Those taken at Yakutat during our visit were sold at an average price of about seventy-five dollars. This, together with the sale of less valuable skins and the money received for baskets, etc., made by the women for the tourist trade in Sitka, brought a considerable revenue to the village. Improvident, like nearly all Indians, the Yakutat villagers soon spend at the trading post the money earned in this way.
The Yakutats belong without question to the Thlinket stock; but visits from tribes farther westward, who travel in skin boats, are known to have been made, and it seems probable that some mixture of Thlinket and Innuit blood may occur in the natives at Yakutat. But if such admixture has occurred, the Innuit element is so small that it escapes the notice of one not skilled in ethnology.
We found Mr. Hendriksen most kind and obliging, and are indebted to him for many favors and great assistance. Arrangements were made with him for reading a base-barometer three times a day during July and August. He also assisted us by acting as an interpreter, and in hiring Indians and canoes.
The weather continued thick and stormy after reaching Yakutat bay, and Captain Farenholt did not think it advisable to take his vessel up the main inlet, where many dangers were reported to exist. A canoe having been purchased from the trader and others hired from the Indians, a start was made from the head of Yakutat bay early on the morning of June 28, in company with two of the Pinta's boats loaded with supplies, under the command of Ensign C. W. Jungen.
CANOE TRIP UP YAKUTAT BAY.
Bidding good-bye to our friends on the Pinta, to whom we were indebted for many favors, we started for our trip up the bay in a pouring rain-storm. Our way at first led through the narrow, placid water-ways dividing the islands on the eastern side of the bay. The islands and the shores of the mainland are densely wooded, and appeared picturesque and inviting even through the veil of mist and rain that shrouded them. The forests consist principally of spruce trees, so dense and having such a tangle of underbrush that it is only with the greatest difficulty that one can force a way through them; while the ground beneath the forest, and even the trunks and branches of the living trees, are covered and festooned with luxuriant growths of mosses and lichens. Our trip along these wooded shores, but half revealed through the drifting mist, was novel and enjoyable in spite of discomforts due to the rain. We rejoiced at the thought that we were nearing the place where the actual labors of the expedition would begin; we were approaching the unknown; visions of unexplored regions filled with new wonders occupied our fancies, and made us eager to press on.
About noon on the first day we pitched our tents on a strip of shingle skirting the shore of the mainland to the east of Knight island. The Pinta's boats spread their white wings and sailed away to the southward before a freshening wind, and our last connection with civilization was broken. As one of the frontiersmen of our party remarked, we were "at home once more." It may appear strange to some that any one could apply such a term to a camp on the wild shore of an unexplored country; but the Bohemian spirit is so strong in some breasts, and the restraint of civilization so irksome, that the homing instinct is reversed and leads irresistibly to the wilderness and to the silent mountain tops.
The morning after arriving at our first camp, Kerr, Christie, and Hendriksen, with all the camp hands except two, went on with the canoes, and in a few hours reached the entrance of Disenchantment bay. They found a camping place about twelve miles ahead, on a narrow strip of shingle beneath the precipices of Point Esperanza, and there established our second camp.
My necessary delay at Camp 1 was utilized, so far as possible, in learning what I could concerning the adjacent country, and in making a beginning in the study of its geology. Our camp was at the immediate base of the mountains, and on the northeastern side of the wide plateau bordering the continent. The plateau stretches southeastward for twenty or thirty miles, and is low and heavily forested. The eastern shore of the bay near our first camp is formed of bluffs about 150 feet high, which have been eaten back by the waves so as to expose fine sections of the strata of sand, gravel and bowlders of which the plateau is composed. All the lowlands bordering the mountains have, apparently, a common history, and doubtless owe their origin principally to the deposition of débris brought from the mountains by former glaciers. When this material was deposited, or soon afterward, the land was depressed about 150 feet lower than at present, as is shown by a terrace cut along the base of the mountains at that elevation. The steep mountain face extending northwestward from Camp 1 to the mouth of Disenchantment bay bears evidence of being the upheaved side of a fault of quite recent origin. The steep inclination and shattered condition of the rocks along this line are evidently due to the crushing which accompanied the displacement.
In the wild gorge above our first camp, a small glacier was found descending to within 500 feet of the sea-level, and giving rise to a wild, roaring stream of milky water. Efforts to reach the glacier were frustrated by the density of the dripping vegetation and by the clouds that obscured the mountains.
A canoe trip was made to a rocky islet between Knight island and the mainland toward the north. The islet, like the rocks in the adjacent mountain range, is composed of sandstone, greatly shattered and seamed, and nearly vertical in attitude. Its surface was densely carpeted with grass and brilliant flowers. Many sea birds had their homes there. From its summit a fine view was obtained of the cloud-capped mountains toward the northeast, of the dark forest covering Knight island, and of the broad plateau toward the southeast. Some of the most charming effects in the scenery of the forest-clad and mist-covered shores of Alaska are due to the wreaths of vapor ascending from the deep forests during the interval in which the warm sunlight shines through the clouds; and on the day of our visit to the islet, the forests, when not concealed by mist, sent up smoke-like vapor wreaths of many fantastic shapes to mingle with the clouds in which the higher mountains disappeared.
At Camp 1 the personnel of the party was unexpectedly reduced. Mr. Hosmer was ill, and remained with me at camp instead of pushing on with Kerr and Christie; and the weather continuing stormy, he concluded to abandon the expedition and return to the mission at Port Mulgrave. Having secured the services of an Indian who chanced to pass our camp in his canoe, Mr. Hosmer bade us good-bye, ensconced himself in the frail craft, and started for sunnier lands. It was subsequently learned that he reached Yakutak without mishap, and a few days later sailed for Sitka in a small trading schooner. Our force during the remainder of the season, not including Mr. Hendriksen and the Indians, whose services were engaged for only a few days, numbered nine men all told.
On the evening of June 30 we had a bright camp-fire blazing on the beach to welcome the returning party. Near sunset a canoe appeared in the distance, and a shot was fired as it came round a bend in the shore. We felt sure that our companions were returning, and piled drift-wood on the roaring camp-fire to cheer them after their hard day's work on the water. As the canoe approached, each dip of the paddle sent a flash of light to us, and we could distinguish the men at their work; but we soon discovered that it was occupied not by our own party but by Indians returning from a seal hunt in Disenchantment bay. They brought their canoe high on the beach, and made themselves at home about our camp-fire. There were seven or eight well-built young men in the party, all armed with guns. In former times such an arrival would have been regarded with suspicion; but thanks to the somewhat
