Purchase of Alaska by the United States.—The Russian American Telegraph Scheme.—Whymper’s Trip up the Yukon.—Dogs.—The Start.—Extempore Water-filter.—Snow-shoes.—The Frozen Yukon.—Under-ground Houses.—Life at Nulato.—Cold Weather.—Auroras.—Approach of Summer.—Breaking-up of the Ice.—Fort Yukon.—Furs.—Descent of the Yukon.—Value of Goods.—Arctic and Tropical Life.—Moose-hunting.—Deer-corrals.—Lip Ornaments.—Canoes.—Four-post Coffin.—The Kenaian Indians.—The Aleuts.—Value of Alaska.

In 1867 the Russian Government sold to the United States all of its possessions in America, comprising an area of more than 500,000 square miles, equal in extent to France, Germany, and Great Britain, stretching from 54° 40´ north latitude to the Arctic Ocean. The sum paid was about seven and a quarter millions of dollars. In this purchase is included Mount St. Elias, the highest peak in North America, rising to a height of more than 18,000 feet, and one of the loftiest single peaks on the globe. The real value of this new acquisition was quite unknown to both buyer and seller. In the southern part, and on the islands, there is considerable vegetation and forests of large trees; and it is said that there is some mineral wealth. But the greater part of the territory is essentially Arctic. It now bears the designation of the Territory of Alaska, an abbreviation of Aliaska, the name of the peninsula stretching into the North Pacific Ocean.

Little information has as yet been gained of this region. The most important is the result of a journey up the River Yukon, performed in 1866 by Mr. Frederick Whymper, an artist connected with the Telegraph Expedition. This telegraph enterprise was undertaken in the confident expectation that the cables laid directly across the Atlantic would fail, and that telegraphic communications between London and New York must be mainly by land. The proposed line, starting from the mouth of the Amoor, to which point it was already constructed, should bend around the head of the Sea of Okotsch, thence run eastward and northward through Kamchatka to the 63d degree of north latitude, then cross the narrow Strait of Bering, and run southward through what was then Russian America, British Columbia, Washington Territory, and Oregon, to San Francisco; thence across the American continent to New York. A dispatch from London to New York by this route would travel something more than 25,000 miles, while the distance in a straight line across the Atlantic was about 3000 miles. The company undertaking this enterprise had surveyed a considerable part of the distance, and expended some millions of dollars, when it was announced that the Atlantic cable was a success, and the work was abandoned.

In the mean while Mr. Whymper undertook a trip up the great River Yukon. This is essentially an Arctic river, though its mouth is far southward of the Arctic Circle. It is probably the greatest of the Arctic rivers, and in length and volume of water is exceeded by not more than six rivers of the globe.

The party of which Mr. Whymper was one consisted of six Europeans and three Indians. In October, 1865, they started from Unalachleet, on Norton Sound. A trip of 200 miles would bring them to Nulato, a Russian trading-post 700 miles from the mouth of the river, which here runs almost parallel with the coast.

They were to travel on foot over frozen rivers and through deep snow. To convey their supplies they had four sledges, each drawn by five dogs. Such a team will draw about 350 pounds. The dogs of this region are not of a good class. Mr. Whymper thinks they have in them quite as much of the wolf as of the dog. Their usual food is fish; their regular daily allowance in winter is a dried salmon a day: in summer they are expected to fish for themselves. They will, however, eat almost any thing, and, if they can get enough, will grow fat upon it. They even took kindly to beans, provided they were boiled soft—a thing which Kane could never induce his Esquimaux dogs to undertake.

They set out on the 27th of October at 11 o’clock—that is, just after sunrise—the thermometer standing at 30° below freezing-point. Their trip was begun a little too early, for the deep snow had not become packed hard, and a bit of thaw would transform it into slush; and the streams which they had to cross were not all frozen over. Fortunately, they had a light skin boat, which not only stood them in good stead now, but served them afterwards for more than a thousand miles of winter travel. Whenever they came to a frozen stream, the Indians would break a hole through the ice to get a draught of water. They always filled up the hole with loose snow, through which they sucked the water. This they said was to filter out the little red worms with which they said the water was infested.

The travellers wore snow-shoes; the use of which, although indispensable in going over the soft snow, is very fatiguing, obliging the wearers to lift a dozen pounds of snow at every step. Sometimes they had to break a path for the sledges. The men would go on ahead for a space, then return and start on again, thus traversing the distance three times. Often they could not accomplish more than ten miles a day.

At noon on the 11th of November, a fortnight after starting, they caught in the distance a glimpse of a faint bluish streak, varying the white monotony of the scene. This they knew marked the course of the great river towards which they were tending. Pushing eagerly on, at sunset they broke out of the woods, shot down a steep bank, and stood on an immense plain of snow-covered ice. It was the Yukon, frozen solidly over as far as the eye could reach, except that here and there was a faint streak of open water. From bank to bank the distance was more than a mile, and this they afterwards found was the normal breadth of the river for seven hundred miles below, and a thousand miles above. Not unfrequently it spread out into broad lagoons four or five miles wide. The Yukon is one of the great rivers of the globe. In length and volume of water it is exceeded only by the Amazon, the Mississippi, and perhaps the Plata. It exceeds the Nile, the Ganges, the Volga, the Amoor, and has affluents to which the Rhine and Rhone are but brooks. It rises far within the British Possessions, and its head-waters almost interlock with those of the Mackenzie, which empties into the Arctic Ocean. A portage of only eighty miles intervenes between these rivers at points where each is navigable for boats forty feet long, and drawing two feet of water. Over this portage the Hudson’s Bay Company transport upon men’s backs the goods for trading with the Indians on the Upper Yukon. Mr. Whymper thinks that a flat-bottomed stern-wheel steamer, like those used on the Upper Mississippi, could ascend the Yukon for eighteen hundred miles, and tap the whole fur-bearing region. But as the river is frozen solid for eight months out of the twelve, the steamer could hardly make more than one trip a year.

The travellers stopped two days at the Indian winter village of Coltog. The houses were built mainly under-ground. First, a little shanty is put up, under which a hole like a well is dug; thence a branch like a sewer runs some yards, along which one must crawl on hands and knees to reach the proper dwelling, which is a square hole in the earth, over which is raised a low dome-shaped roof, with a hole in the top to let out the smoke of the fire, which is built directly underneath. When the fire gets low the smoke-hole is covered with a skin, which keeps in not only the heat but the manifold scents engendered by the crowded occupancy. The slight heat from below makes the roof a favorite trysting-place for the dogs, and every now and then one comes tumbling down through the smoke-hole upon the fire below, adding the odor of singed hair to those arising from stale fish, old skin garments, and other unnamable abominations. Coltog is a rather favorable sample of an Indian winter village in Alaska.

From Coltog the travellers proceeded up the river two days’ journey to Nulato, the most northern and most inland of the Russian Company’s fur-posts. It stands in latitude 65°, and longitude 158°, upon a level slip of land bounded on two sides by the great river and one of its main branches. Notwithstanding the high latitude, trees of considerable size grow there, and during the brief summer the grass is luxuriant, and berries abound. The post is a little fortress, surrounded by a picket, which is closed at night to exclude the Indians, who camp around in large numbers. The house appropriated to the travellers was built of logs, forming one side of the little square. The windows were of seal-gut instead of glass; and as there is during the winter only two or three hours of daylight, the light was never any of the best. By caulking the floor with moss, and carpeting it with skins, the main room was kept comfortably warm, except near the floor. If one hung a damp garment from the rafters it would steam at the top, while frozen stiff at the bottom. The temperature at the roof was sometimes 65°, while near the floor it was 4°. Water for daily use was hauled on a sledge from the river. To get at it, they were obliged to break through solid ice four feet thick. Nevertheless, the Indians contrive to catch immense quantities of fish by constructing a weir of wicket-work, and keeping holes open in the ice.

Winter fairly set in soon after the party had taken up their abode at Nulato. On the 2d of November the thermometer indicated the moderate temperature of 2° above zero. It suddenly fell to 20° below zero, and kept on steadily falling until the 5th of December, when it sunk to 58° below zero, that is, ninety degrees below the freezing-point of water. This was the coldest day, but there were during December and January eleven days when the thermometer sunk below the freezing-point of mercury. It is to be noted that after a certain point the human system seems to take little additional note of the temperature as indicated by the thermometer. When the mercury froze, 72° below the freezing-point of water, it did not seem very cold, provided there was no wind; while one day when the thermometer was 44° higher, we find this note: “A north wind blew, and made us feel the cold very decidedly. It is wonderful how searching the wind is in this northern climate; each little seam, slit, or tear in your fur or woollen clothing makes you aware of its existence, and one’s nose, ears, and angles generally are the special sufferers.” One day when the thermometer stood at 10°, an expedition started off for the coast: and once when it was at 32°, a half-clad Indian came to the post with his child, no better clad, bringing some game; he did not seem to think the day remarkably cold. The shortest day of the winter was December 21, when the sun was an hour and fifty minutes above the horizon.

During the winter Mr. Whymper made many capital sketches out-of-doors, while the temperature was sixty degrees below freezing-point. Among these is a remarkable aurora borealis on the 21st of December. It was not the conventional arch, but a graceful, undulating, ever-changing snake of pale electric light; evanescent colors, pale as those of a lunar rainbow, ever and again flitting through it, and long streamers and scintillations moving upward to the bright stars, which shone distinctly through its hazy ethereal form. The night was beautifully calm and clear; cold, but not intensely so, the thermometer standing at +16°.

So passed the long winter months. Early in April there came signs of summer—for in the Arctic regions there is properly no spring or autumn. On the 9th flies made their appearance. Next day the willows were seen budding. But for another fortnight the weather was variable. On the 28th the first goose put in his appearance. But for another fortnight the ice in the river remained unbroken. The first sign of breaking up was on the 12th of May. That day mosquitoes showed themselves. Next day came swallows and wild geese in abundance. Still another fortnight, during which a steady stream of broken ice came down, bearing with it whole trees torn up from the banks. On the 24th of May the river was tolerably clear of ice.

The Russians had already got ready for a trading-excursion up the Yukon to an Indian trading-place 240 miles above, the farthest point ever visited by them. They had a huge skin boat, fitted with mast and sail, manned by eight men, carrying, besides men and provisions, two tons of goods. The Americans went with them, though meaning to go far beyond. They had their own little boat, laden with six or seven hundred pounds of stores of all kinds. The river was still full of ice and drift-wood. A large tree would sometimes pass under the bow of the Russian boat, and fairly lift it out of the water. These skin boats seem to be the best of all for this kind of navigation. They give way without harm to a blow which would break through a bark canoe.

One can scarcely conceive the rapidity with which summer comes on in these regions. On the 27th of May the river was yet full of ice. Ten days after they had to lie by during the noontide heat, the thermometer standing at 80° in the shade.

The Americans reached Fort Yukon on the 9th of June, having, in twenty-nine days, rowed and tracked six hundred miles. A few weeks later, with the current in their favor, they descended the same space in seven days. Fort Yukon lies a little within what was formerly Russian America, and the Hudson’s Bay Company paid a small sum for the privilege of its occupancy. Here the Americans remained a month, being hospitably entertained. The fort had quite a civilized look. There were freshly-plastered walls, glazed windows, open fireplaces, magazines, store-houses, and a great fur-room. Camped around were Indians of many tribes, locally designated as “Foolish Folks,” “Wood Folks,” “Birch-bark Folks,” “Rat Folks,” “Hill Folks,” and the like. Some wore their native costumes; others were tricked out in the odds and ends of civilized attire. The fur-room was a rare sight. From the beams hung marten-skins by the thousand, while the cheaper sorts were lying in huge heaps on the floor. Skins are here the regular currency. The beaver is the unit, estimated at about half a dollar. Two martens count as one beaver, and so on by a recognized scale. Fox-skins are numerous. The most valuable is that of the black fox, worth twenty times more than any other. There is a story that an unlucky employÉ of the company once bought the skin of a white fox, which the Indian seller had cunningly dyed black, paying for it more pounds than he should have paid shillings. The overplus was deducted from his salary.

On the 8th of July the travellers started on their return journey, under a salute from their hospitable hosts. They canoed down the river day and night, only stopping two or three times a day to prepare their tea and cook their fish. It was a holiday excursion, the current sweeping them along at the rate of four miles an hour. Once, by aid of rowing, they made forty-five miles in seven hours. They followed the river clear to its mouth. For the seven hundred miles below Nulato, near where they had struck the river on their upward journey, the region is comparatively poor. It lies out of the way of traders; fish are plenty and cheap enough. Five needles were considered a fair price for a thirty-pound salmon; and, says Mr. Whymper, “tobacco went farther than we had ever known it to do before.” On the 23d of July they reached the mouth of the river, whence two days’ sailing up the coast brought them to St. Michael’s. The whole voyage of 1300 miles between Fort Yukon and St. Michael’s had taken fifteen and a half days. At St. Michael’s they were told that the telegraphic enterprise had been abandoned, and that all employed in it were to return to California.

The result of this expedition adds considerably to our knowledge of the Arctic regions. It confirms what has been told us by Richardson, Kane, Hall, and all other Arctic explorers as to the superabundance of animal life existing in certain seasons in the northern regions. Strange as it may seem, tropical and semi-tropical countries are almost bare of living creatures. Strain and his party wandered for weeks through the thick forests of Central America, never seeing an animal, and rarely a bird, and the river appeared to be almost destitute of fish. But life abounds in the Arctic regions. The rivers swarm with fish almost begging to be caught. The Kamchatdales have reindeer by the thousand. Whymper and his friends, during their brief stay at Nulato, bought the skins of eight hundred white hares with which to cover their blankets; the Indians had used the flesh for food. Moose-meat, varied by beaver, is the standing food of those who have got tired of salmon. The delicacies are a moose’s nose and a beaver’s tail. So abundant are the moose on the Yukon that the natives think it hardly worth while to waste powder and shot in killing them. When an Indian in his canoe comes upon a moose swimming in the water, he gives chase until the creature is fatigued, and then stabs it to the heart with his knife. They have also an ingenious way of corralling deer. They build a long elliptical inclosure of stakes upon a trail made by the deer. Between each pair of stakes is a slip-noose. A herd of deer is driven into this inclosure; they try to run out between the stakes, get caught by the nooses, and so fall a ready prey to the guns of the hunters.

The native population of Alaska is estimated at about 60,000. From the southern boundary up to Mount St. Elias and on the islands live the Koloschians, estimated at 20,000. They are of middling stature, of copper-colored complexion, with round faces, thick lips, and black hair. The men wear various ornaments in their ears and noses; the women, when young, insert a piece of ivory in a slit made in the under lip, increasing it in size from year to year, until at last the ornament gets to be four inches wide, projecting six inches from the side of the face. The baidars or canoes of the Koloschians are dug out of a single tree, and will carry from twelve to fifty persons. They are usually propelled by paddles, though upon long voyages they are rigged with two or more masts and sails of matting or canvas. They, and indeed all of the tribes, do not bury their dead, but deposit their remains in an oblong box raised upon posts, with the canoe and other possessions of the deceased over the box.

Next northward of the Koloschians come the Kenaians, who stretch almost across the continent to Hudson’s Bay. Those living upon the Yukon call them Co-yukons, that is, People of the Great River, “Yukon” in their language signifying river. They are much feared by the surrounding tribes, and have often given no little trouble to their Russian masters. Many of these wear a bone ornament stuck through the septum of the nose.

The Aleuts, who inhabit the Aleutian Islands are, to a considerable extent, of mixed blood, Russian and Koloschian. They have advanced in civilization far beyond any other of the Esquimaux race. Not a few of them have received a fair education, and among the priests of the Greek Church there are not a few who go through the service of the church in the Greek language, with a full understanding of the words of the service.

Quite nine-tenths of the whole territory of Alaska is purely Arctic, and is not only uninhabited but uninhabitable. The other tenth is now sparsely inhabited, and there is little reason to suppose that the population will ever be greatly beyond its present number. Except in special cases, the possible population of a country is measured by its agricultural capacity. Leaving out of view the extreme northern parts of Alaska, the best accounts as yet accessible show that at St. Michael’s lettuce, parsnips, and turnips can be raised by sowing them in beds. At Fort Yukon potatoes not much larger than cherries can be raised. At Sitka potatoes will grow a little larger. On some of the islands the inhabitants can even venture upon barley. The forest-trees, which flourish in isolated parts, will soon be exhausted, as far as any profitable use of them is concerned. Fish and furs constitute almost the sole value of Alaska. The fisheries are among the most valuable in the world. The furs will soon be exhausted, unless prompt measures are taken to prevent the capture of fur-bearing animals in the breeding season.