Travels in Alaska 



of strange howls, yells, and screams rising from a base 

 of gasping, bellowing grunts and groans. Had I been 

 alone, I should have fled as from a pack of fiends, but 

 our Indians quietly recognized this awful sound, if 

 such stuff could be called sound, simply as the 

 "whiskey howl" and pushed quietly on. As we ap- 

 proached the landing, the demoniac howling so greatly 

 increased I tried to dissuade Mr. Young from at- 

 tempting to say a single word in the village, and as for 

 preaching one might as well try to preach in Tophet. 

 The whole village was afire with bad whiskey. This 

 was the first time in my life that I learned the mean- 

 ing of the phrase "a howling drunk." Even our 

 Indians hesitated to venture ashore, notwithstanding 

 whiskey storms were far from novel to them. Mr. 

 Young, however, hoped that in this Indian Sodom at 

 least one man might be found so righteous as to be in 

 his right mind and able to give trustworthy informa- 

 tion. Therefore I was at length prevailed on to yield 

 consent to land. Our canoe was drawn up on the 

 beach and one of the crew left to guard it. Cautiously 

 we strolled up the hill to the main row of houses, now 

 a chain of alcoholic volcanoes. The largest house, just 

 opposite the landing, was about forty feet square, 

 built of immense planks, each hewn from a whole log, 

 and, as usual, the only opening was a mere hole about 

 two and a half feet in diameter, closed by a massive 

 hinged plug like the breach of a cannon. At the dark 

 door-hole a few black faces appeared and were sud- 

 denly withdrawn. Not a single person was to be seen 

 on the street. At length a couple of old, crouching 



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