A Canoe Voyage to Northward 



visions and blankets, we left Wrangell October 14, 

 eager to welcome weather of every sort, as long as 

 food lasted. 



I was anxious to make an early start, but it was 

 half-past two in the afternoon before I could get my 

 Indians together — Toyatte, a grand old Stickeen 

 nobleman, who was made captain, not only because 

 he owned the canoe, but for his skill in woodcraft and 

 seamanship; Kadachan, the son of a Chilcat chief; 

 John, a Stickeen, who acted as interpreter; and Sitka 

 Charley. Mr. Young, my companion, was an adven- 

 turous evangelist, and it was the opportunities the 

 trip might aiford to meet the Indians of the different 

 tribes on our route with reference to future mission- 

 ary work, that induced him to join us. 



When at last all were aboard and we were about 

 to cast loose from the wharf, Kadachan's mother, a 

 woman of great natural dignity and force of character, 

 came down the steps alongside the canoe oppressed 

 with anxious fears for the safety of her son. Standing 

 silent for a few moments, she held the missionary 

 with her dark, bodeful eyes, and with great solemnity 

 of speech and gesture accused him of using undue in- 

 fluence in gaining her son's consent to go on a danger- 

 ous voyage among unfriendly tribes; and like an 

 ancient sibyl foretold a long train of bad luck from 

 storms and enemies, and finished by saying, "If my 

 son comes not back, on you will be his blood, and you 

 shall pay. I say it." 



Mr. Young tried in vain to calm her fears, promis- 

 ing Heaven's care as well as his own for her precious 



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