by Sue Henry
Alex Jensen and Jessie Arnold stood at the rail outside their stateroom, leaning together for warmth of one kind and another, watching the night, with its lights, moon, and stars, saying just enough and no more. Jensen’s pipe was clenched between his teeth and once again peacefully trailed smoke that was swept away into the dark behind the deck lights. Jessie, her hands tucked into her pockets, smiled once and looked up at him to murmur a word or two, but, for the most part, she was content to let the scenery pass unremarked, standing close in the circle of his arm.
A small sound turned their attention to a more experienced ender of voyages, as Captain Kay stepped up to join them at the rail.
“Evening.”
Jensen nodded in return.
“It’s so beautiful,” Jessie said. “I can understand why some of you are addicted to it.”
He smiled, “It’s not always this pretty. You folks ready to dock tomorrow morning?”
“Not sure I wouldn’t rather turn around and go back with you,” Alex admitted.
“Well, after yesterday, you’re welcome on my ship any time you like.”
“Thanks, but I had a lot of help. Couldn’t have pulled it off alone.”
“Maybe not, but … all the same. And the company agrees.”
He stood watching the lights on the water with them for a few minutes longer, then, “We’ll stop in Everett, early, about four o’clock tomorrow morning. I’d like you to be on deck when we do, if you don’t mind, Jensen.”
“Sure. Glad to. Any particular reason?”
“Just to watch them put the gold on board, to take with us the rest of the way to Seattle.”
They stared at him, perplexed.
He gave them a rare grin.
“You didn’t think we’d really take the chance of ferrying thirteen or fourteen million all the way down the Inside Passage on the ship, did you? In Skagway, we loaded fourteen boxes of rocks, and one of gold we could display. The rest was flown to Everett a week ago.”
A chuckle escaped Alex. It grew into a hoot of laughter, inspiring Jessie to similar amusement. “My God,” he gasped, “all that for one … well, it would have been pretty close to a million, anyway.”
Captain Kay laughed with them, a deep rumble that blended well with the sound of the ship’s engines. As their mutual mirth died, he nodded and turned away. “Goodnight, now.”
“Goodnight, sir.”
He smiled slightly at the sir, but said nothing more, and walked casually off down the deck, toward the stairs leading to the bridge.
They watched him go with a sense of ironic conclusion, before turning back to watch the lights along the shore.
“I invited Lou and her father to come and visit us sometime,” Jessie said after a few minutes. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Hey, no, that’s a good idea. I’d like a chance to talk gold rush with John Stanley. He’s read just about everything that’s been written.”
“Good.”
“What about Dallas and Rozie?”
“Yes, them, too.”
“What did she want to see you about this afternoon?”
“Oh, Alex. I should have told you, but I’ve kind of been hugging it to myself for a little.”
“She said she had something that belonged to you. Lose something?”
“No. Just the opposite. Look.”
She held out her right hand in the glow of the deck lights. On her finger was the incredible blue sapphire that had been on Dallas’s the last time Jensen had noticed it—when she had patted his hand and gone courageously down in the elevator.
“She slipped it on my finger before I knew what she was doing, and wouldn’t take it back. She said that after this trip she has to stop wearing her rings because they hurt her hands. She really wanted me to have it. I couldn’t say no.”
“She’s not easy to say no to. You shouldn’t try.” Alex smiled a little sadly. He thought he could guess why Dallas had given the ring to Jess, it was so exactly right. But he was sorry to hear she must give up wearing something that had given her pleasure.
Then he recalled her “Yahoo” from the elevator shaft, and had to explain to Jessie why he was laughing again.
Acknowledgments
THIS TIME I REALLY MUST THANK A GREAT MANY PEOPLE, some of whom may be found in the pages of this book. My apologies to anyone I may inadvertently have forgotten. My gratitude and special thanks go to:
As always, my family and the editors and encouragers of Alice’s Restaurant and the Friday Night Adoption Society.
Alaska State Troopers and Scientific Crime Detection Laboratory for answers to law enforcement questions.
Dick West, President and CEO of Alaska Sightseeing/Cruise West, “Mr. Alaska” Chuck West, chairman of the board, and Gordon Thorn, public relations consultant, for permission, not only to use the Spirit of ‘98 as a setting, but for giving me five wonderful days on board for research, from bridge to bilges. In gratitude, as I promised, I have made an effort to portray the Spirit of ‘98 as it really is, with its unique dignity, charm, and delightful turn-of-the-century atmosphere (with only a few small liberties), and, as I promised, with no gratuitous violence—though it is a mystery, after all, and we all know that you can’t make an omelet … etc. And, yes, Gordon, if you read far enough, you’ll find yourself on board.
Harmony Crawford, in the Alaska Sightseeing/Cruise West’s Seattle office, for schedules, blueprints, photographs, and critical information—all of which arrived yesterday, as needed.
Dave Kay, captain, Ray McKimmey, engineer, for permission to let them take their places in this book, and the whole crew of the Spirit of ‘98 for their cooperation and assistance in helping me discover the ship from stem to stern in June of 1995. And for answering dozens of questions during and after the voyage.
Jeff Brady and the Ton of Gold Centennial Reenactment Committee for their enthusiastic endorsement of the idea to base this book on the commemorative voyage. Also for their assistance in providing all kinds of information necessary to portraying the setting and sequence of activities as much as possible the way the actual event took place. And, for all their hard work, to the following committees:
Klondyke Centennial Society, Dawson City, Yukon: Bill Bowie, Akio Saito, Boyd Gillis, Greg Hakonson, Monna Sprokkreff.
Skagway Centennial Committee/CVB, Skagway, Alaska: Irene Henricksen, Jeff Brady, Bob Ward
Klondike Gold Rush Centennial Committee of Washington State, Seattle, Washington: Reed Jarvis, Valarie Raya
John Gould of Dawson City, Yukon, for the original idea that sparked the whole Ton of Gold Centennial Reenactment, and without whom there would be no voyage, or celebration, and this book would not have been written. Thanks, John, from all of us. And for your kind assistance to me in sharing the research you had done in locating the descendants of the original millionaire miners who returned to Seattle aboard the SS Portland.
Leslie Wilkinson, manager, Passenger Operations, White Pass & Yukon Railway, for great envelopes of material that made going to the mailbox much more interesting than usual.
John Mielke, chief mechanical officer, White Pass & Yukon Railway, for information and pictures of Engine 73 and the parlor cars it pulled between Skagway and Lake Bennett, July 12, 1997.
Donna Whitehead, owner of the Golden North Hotel in Skagway (Alaska’s oldest operating hotel) for a warm welcome, generous information, and tours on all three floors and between them, including the haunted ones.
Chad Meyhoff of Oxford: “The Precious Metals People,” for information on gold, by the ounce or ton, and its value, then and now.
My brother, John Hall, the family geologist, for figuring out that a ton of gold would fit into three five-gallon buckets or a footlocker.
Norm H. Thompson, M.D., Alaska State Deputy Chief Medical Examiner, for information on penetrating fractures of the skull.
Rich Steiner of the University of Alaska Fairbanks’ Marine Advisory Program, for information on the behavior of h
umpback whales.
Kacey Smith of Schallerer’s Photo and Gifts in Ketchikan, for information on Kodak’s Create-A-Print machine.
Port Captain Kelly Mitchell, Alaska Marine Highway System, for assistance on the possibilities of radio interference in the Grenville Channel, south of Prince Rupert.
Vic Carlson for judicial information on communities in Southeast Alaska.
Bruce Valiere, Alaska Airlines Reservation Agent, for Southeast Alaska flight schedules and friendly conversation.
The Alaska Department of Tourism, the Visitors Bureaus of Skagway, Petersburg, Ketchikan, Anchorage, and InfoCentres of Prince Rupert, and Vancouver, B.C. for above-and-beyond telephone assistance and great information in the mail about their specific parts of the Inside Passage.
Both the Z. J. Lousaac Library’s Alaska Collection, especially David Merrill, for a couple of very special books, and Marcia Colson for locating Kipling’s poem, “The Sons of Martha,” and the University of Alaska Anchorage Consortium Library, especially Nancy Lesh, who found the words and music to “Bird in a Gilded Cage” and set the librarians singing.
Jeff Smith, great-grandson of Jefferson Randolph “Soapy” Smith, II, who, in costume, represented “Soapy” on the reenactment voyage, for graciously giving me permission to use him as a character in this book, to “make me out as a good or bad guy, but please don’t make me … ugly.” And for sharing information on his famous greatgrandfather, researched for a book he is currently writing on the “true life adventures” of “Soapy Smith.”
Bill Berry, grandson of Fred Berry, for permission to put him and his wife, Nella, into this book as passengers. His grandfather was one of the four Berry brothers (Frank, Clarence, Henry, and Fred) who are a part of Klondike history for their involvement in the gold rush. Clarence struck it rich on Eldorado Creek and arrived in Seattle on the Portland with his wife, Ethel D., and $130,000 in gold, one of the only successful stampeders to invest his fortune wisely, and to end his life anything but penniless.
Vicki Doster for her company on a research trip to Skagway—terrible roads, broken windshields, lack of hot water, and all.
Dana Stabenow for her generous assistance in brainstorming a title—for friendship, laughter over lunches, and the continuing empathy of a talented fellow wordsmith.
Irish Grader and Tom Colgan, most talented editors, Andrea Sinert and Coates Bateman, editorial assistants, and all the good people at Avon Books for doing such a great job.
Dominick Abel, wise agent and friend.
About the Author
Sue Henry, whose award-winning Alaska mysteries have received the highest praise from readers and critics alike, has lived in Alaska for almost a quarter of a century, and brings history, Alaskan lore, and the majestic beauty of the vast landscape to her mysteries. Based in Anchorage, where she teaches writing at the University of Alaska, Anchorage, she is currently at work on the next book in this series.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
Author’s Note
EARLY ON THE MORNING OF JULY 17, 1897, THE NATIONAL American Trading and Transportation Company’s oceangoing vessel, SS Portland, steamed into Seattle’s Schwabacher’s Dock, carrying over two tons of gold from the Yukon and a ragged gang of millionaire miners, most of whom had staked their claims and won their fortunes on Bonanza and Eldorado Creeks near Dawson City, Yukon Territory, Canada. Over five thousand cheering people were on hand to meet the ship and watch as her passengers staggered down the gangplank, burdened with sacks, bags, cases, and even blankets full of gold that they carried or dragged onto the dock. Handles broke off suitcases and bystanders were hired to help transport loads too heavy for their owners to lift.
The event touched off the Klondike gold rush, a stampede of incredible proportions, and within hours it seemed everyone in Seattle was going—or wanted to go—north to the gold fields. People walked away from their jobs, families, everything, and bought tickets to Alaska. Doctors abandoned patients, shops and businesses hung “Closed—Gone to the Klondyke” signs, streetcars stopped running for lack of operators, newspapers lost most of their reporters. Little more than a week later, fifteen hundred people had already left, and the harbor was full of ships, loaded and ready to sail.
Coming in the midst of the depression that had followed the panic of 1893, the possibility of becoming rich was more than usually tempting to many who were struggling to make ends meet. They sold anything they could for cash, borrowed the rest, and headed north. As the word spread, gold seekers flocked to the Klondike from around the world, and, in a matter of months, Dawson City was, temporarily at least, the largest city in Canada west of Winnipeg, larger than Vancouver, and only little smaller than Seattle. There had never been, and would never be again, anything like it.
Although this book is a work of fiction, it is based on an actual event scheduled for the week of July 13, 1997—the “Ton of Gold Centennial Reenactment” of the voyage of the SS Portland, which sailed in July 1897 with the first gold from the incredibly rich claims of the Klondike. This commemorative journey took place aboard Alaska Sightseeing/Cruise West’s beautiful flagship, the Spirit of ‘98, just as described in this fictional tale. The setting, the towns, scenery, and locales, from Skagway, Alaska, to Seattle, Washington, are all authentic. A few of the people in the story are also real—with their kind permission—because they will really be on board for the trip. It’s also my way of saying thanks for assistance in the research for this book, which is scheduled for publication just before the real reenactment will take place. I am pleased and excited to report that, thanks to the International Centennial Committee and Alaska Sightseeing/Cruise West, when the Spirit of ‘98 left the dock in Skagway, bound for Seattle, I had the privilege of being one of the passengers.
When the Spirit sailed in July 1997, it was because hundreds of volunteers in the United States and Canada worked for over three years on the celebration, to mark the centennial of this historic event. Arrangements were made to bring an actual ton of gold out of the Yukon and overland to Skagway. From there it was transported to Seattle, arriving on July 19, 1997, only two days from the day that, a century earlier, the original Klondike gold arrived at the Schwabacher Dock on July 17, 1897.
This modern ton of gold—a combination of dust, nuggets, and bars from the working mines of the Klondike—was carried up the Yukon River from Dawson City to Whitehorse, overland to Carcross on Lake Bennett, and down to Skagway on the White Pass & Yukon Route’s narrow gauge railroad, powered by a rare antique steam locomotive, Engine 73. Protected by armed guards, it was accompanied by parlor cars full of dignitaries and celebrants in period costumes—myself included.
Engine 73, a compact locomotive that glistens with dedicated care, will pull the train to an elevation of almost three thousand feet to receive the gold, and take it back down to sea level in Skagway. One of only a few surviving and operating narrow gauge engines, Number 73 is a great satisfaction to everyone who has the opportunity to ride, or watch it run; cylindrical boiler topped with steam domes, a shiny brass bell, and a forward smokestack that widens slightly at the top. It arrived at the downtown Skagway station in clouds of white steam, whistle screaming, bell clanging, and long, gleaming steel drivers thrusting its wheels steadily around in the unforgettable rhythm only a steam engine can make.
Once Skagway had the gold secured, the townspeople threw a huge party—repeating those in Dawson and Whitehorse—both as a send-off for the reenactment, and in celebration of their own success in making it all happen. They then gathered on Sunday, July 13, to observe or take part in the sailing of the Spirit of ‘98, on its voyage down the Inside Passage to Seattle, where it arrived six days later, at a dock to be renamed in honor of the Klondike gold rush.
Here’s a thrilling excerpt from DEADFALL Sue Henry’s Alaska Mystery featuring Jessie Arnold and Alex Jensen now available from Avon Books.
IN THE DEEPEST PART OF THE NIGHT, JESSI
E FOUND HERSELF suddenly wide awake and staring into the dark, filled with a strange tension.
A breath of wind whispered through the slightly open bedroom window, inspiring a small susurrus in the folds of the curtain. Then there was the soft, dry rustle of flying birch leaves against the glass, like spirit fingers scrabbling ineffectively to come in.
She lay without moving, listening hard. Instinctively knowing that no usual sound had raised her consciousness, she searched past those she could identify for something else. The sound was not repeated though she held her breath till her chest ached with the strain of alert concentration, her body rigid. She could half-remember a sharp noise of some kind, then another—different. All her intuition insisted something was not right.
The wind eased as if drawing its breath, and deep beneath the lowering of it came a distant resonance, a moan … no, the pitch was too high … a whimper … of hurt, or distress? Tank barked, suddenly, twice, and was answered by a yelp or two from other locations in the yard. One of the huskies produced a single howl that faded into yips of disturbance.
Tossing back the covers, Jessie was quickly on her feet, switching on a small bedside lamp, throwing on the clothes she had shed on going to bed.
“Wha-at?” Alex asked, sleepily raising his face from the pillow to see her yanking a turtleneck sweater over her head. “What is it?”