Shipwrecked 
matically. At last I arrived at Matson’s house 
and knocked at the door; a voice said, ‘‘ Who’s 
there ?”’ On hearing who I was the good old 
man jumped out of bed and, after helping me 
out of my wet clothes, insisted on my getting 
into his warm bed, whilst he busied himself in 
making me some hot soup. He kept muttering 
aloud between his questions and my answers as 
to the disaster, that he knew those silly some- 
things would do it. I was anxious for my skins 
and trophies, to say nothing of my gun and 
rifle, which were in the hold of the schooner. 
‘** Now don’t you worrit over anything,” the old 
man said; ‘‘ me and the boys will fix things up 
to-morrow.” 
I had bought a nice lot of prime fur just 
before leaving Kenai, which consisted of three 
grey wolves’ skins, eighteen magnificent beaver 
pelts, six marten skins, and two _ beautiful 
silver fox skins; and these, together with my 
own skins, would, I knew, suffer dreadfully by 
contact with the salt water. However, it was 
no use worrying, so being dead-beat I soon 
dropped off to sleep, whilst my kind host slept 
on the floor. Next morning I had to stay in 
bed until my clothes were dried out. In the 
meanwhile Matson went up to the Indian village 
and collected all the natives he could get 
hold of. He also pressed into his service six 
white men who were waiting for the s.s. Bertha 
279 
