HEDLICKA] 



WRITER'S TRIP OX rUKON 85 



to get my baggage on deck over a broken landing place, and get 

 ready to depart. 



At 6 leave St. Michael. The Silver Wave is a tub — too short — am 

 told if it were of proper length they would have to have more help. 

 Result — very unsteady. Fortunately the weather is fair, and the 

 captain gives me a berth in his cabin. I had originally a stateroom, 

 right in the back, with three bunks or beds, po small that one could 

 barely get into the beds; but there came two mix-breed women with 

 a girl and so they turned me out and put me in the " hole " — seven 

 bunks in an ill-ventilated cabin under the deck in the stern of the 

 ship. She is only about GO feet long by about 15 broad. As it is I 

 have a bunk in what would have been a well-ventilated little cabin, 

 had it not been for rough weather which cuine on later in the night 

 and which necessitated the closing of the window. 



Friday. July 16. The rougher weather came and the boat began 

 to pitch and roll. Luckily I slept for the most part. At about 6.30 

 the captain called me to breakfast with him. I got up rather groggy 

 from the sea, but managed to wash my face and get to the little 

 messroom, where the cook started to bring eggs, bacon, coffee, etc. — 

 and then I had enough and had all I could do to reach my bunk 

 again without getting seasick. I was kept on the verge of it until 

 after 10, when we arrived oft' Nome. 



This, however, meant no relief. There was no bay. no dock, no 

 shelter for even such a small boat, and so we anchored a few hundred 

 yards off the shore along which stretch the long line of unpainted 

 (mostly), weather-beaten frame dwellings of this northern capital. 



By this time I barely keep my feet, but they lowered a heavy row- 

 boat, and several of us — there were four other men passengers — are 

 helped to tumble in. I get back, and to steady myself catch hold 

 of the borders of the boat, only for this the next moment to be 

 dashed against the larger boat with my hand between. It was almost 

 too much, the seasickness and added to it the very painful hurt. 

 Fortunately the fingers were not crushed, just bruised badly — they 

 might easily have been mashed to a pulp. 



They row us in and we tumble out on the sand, and there is no one 

 to receive anybody or take any notice. However, after a while there 

 comes accidentally an old two-seated Ford. Three of us crowd in, 

 leave the few bulkier things we brought along on the beach un- 

 guarded, and are driven to the other end of the town, to the Golden 

 Gate Hotel. 



This is a big old frame building, out of plumb in several directions. 

 There is no one in the spacious lobby. However, after a time some 

 one, not looking much like a proprietor — more like a groom at work — 

 comes out from somewhere and without much ado shows us each to a 

 room. Mine smells musty, old sweat and blankets and mould, and 



