Golden Torment

by Janelle Taylor

  Kathy observed the awesome sight before her astonished eyes. The steamship was drifting almost silently through the royal blue water whose untroubled surface reflected the primitive landscape like a gigantic mirror. Skagway was snuggled between towering, snow-capped mountains on three sides and strikingly separated from those awesome mounds by a massive timberline of spruces, pines, and hemlocks. The Lynn Canal appeared a liquid blue street flowing to the only open angle to this impressive area. Portions of those steep slopes revealed obsidian rock formations which were a majestic blending of imposing gorges and tall peaks. It was a rugged and perilous region which would demand all the endurance and courage any man—or woman—had to offer.

  The little settlement appeared dwarfed by its lofty surroundings; it sat before the snow-covered escarpments like a small, dark splotch of humanity boldly challenging blue-white Nature. The air was brisk, a noticeable dampness lacing it. Smoke curled from obscure campfires. Dense fog and a misty blue haze attested to the high humidity. But for the verdant evergreens, the area was harsh and desolate. Kathy’s wide gaze scanned the rock-bound strip of beach which was coming into sight.

  The ship slowed, stopped, and dropped anchor. Three shrill blasts of her horn announced their arrival. Boats of varying sizes and descriptions dotted the shoreline. There was no landing dock. The area between the trees and water was cluttered with boxes, supplies, equipment of all kinds and sizes, men in tattered clothing, countless small tents, and three log cabins. The mass of humanity was a strange and disturbing sight. One haggard and dejected group sat around small fires as if utterly listless or totally exhausted. Many men looked weakened and emaciated, their faces and bearings revealing despair and desperation.

  Yet, another smaller group was scurrying around as if the town was ablaze. They were warmly dressed and appeared healthy and happy. Kathy wondered at this startling contrast. Who were these men? What wretched existence had many faced here? How many wished they had never heard the words “gold” and “Alaska”?

  The steamship was now bustling with excitement and ear-splitting noise. Men on the shore were waving and shouting to those on the ship, as if selfishly delighted to have others come and share their misery. The men on the ship were responding with overwhelming enthusiasm. Boats were forced into the deep blue water to head their way. Pushing and shoving for first place in line began immediately. Gear and supplies now cluttered the decks.

  Suddenly a deathly silence settled over the entire ship. The men could not believe their eyes and senses as they realized what they were actually viewing: their final destination. They gaped at the tent-town, the frosttipped ridges, the awesome summits, the harshness of the land, and the pitiful men on the rocky strand. The only invasion of beauty on this intimidating setting was the pink reflection of the snow-capped mountains on the pearly surface of the water.

  One tenderfoot furiously shouted, “There’s thousands of men here afore us! Won’t be no gold left! Look at them mountains and all that snow! Surely this ain’t where we land!”

  Captain Shurling walked up, his annoyance with the two willful females visible. “This here’s the gateway to the Yukon, the end of the earth: Skagway. See that tallest peak up there,” he directed impassively, pointing to the White Pass. “That’s the trail over the mountains and glaciers to the Yukon Territory and the Klondike. If you’re after gold, that’s where it is.”

  “You mean we don’t pan for gold here? We gotta go somewhere else? I been cheated!” one greedy man snarled.

  Weary of this rough lot of men, Shurling irritably snapped, “Pan anywhere you please! But the gold strike is on the other side of those mountains, down the raging rapids of the Yukon River, and over about Dawson area. That’s where the claims office Fortymile is located and that’s where the Klondike is. It takes a lot of walking, some boating, and some mountain climbing. If you got the money and luck, you might find a dogsled or a boat. If not, it’s walking and building your own boats. Skagway is the entrance to the gold fields, not the termination point of your journey,” he declared.

  Holding their full attention, Shurling continued with his narration. “There’s two ways to get to the Yukon Territory, which is part of Canada, not American Alaska,” he smugly informed the ignorant men. “You can take the northwesterly route over Chilkat Pass or you can take the northeasterly route over the White Pass. Both end up in Whitehorse and the distance is about the same. Both of ’em are dangerous and rugged. It’s a narrow path only wide enough for one man to walk at a time. To one side you got a slope of ice and on the other, a sheer drop into nowhere. A few hours up there and your feet won’t move and your hands can freeze. But if you don’t move on, you die right there. Lots of men don’t ever see Whitehorse or Dawson. I’ll be back in several weeks if any of you change your minds.” With that statement, he glanced at the two females nearby and smiled expectantly.

  “This damn place is no more’n a dung heap!” One infuriated man growled, stomping the deck with a booted foot.

  “It’s a freezing hell-hole if you asked me!” another stormed.

  The talk and remarks quickly became crude and vulgar. Several men were swearing in disappointment and vexation. Another was spouting off angrily, “I spent my good money on a joke like this? Ain’t even fittin’ to piss on!” He balled a fist and shook it at Skagway.

  “Cease this foul talk! Can’t you men see we have two ladies present?” the ruddy-faced captain shouted harshly above the noise.

  “Ladies, Hell! Wouldn’t no ladies come to a stink-hole like this!” the first man snapped, nerves and patience frayed by the bleak reality before him, the monstrous cruelty of his tarnished golden dream.

  “Silence, man, or you’ll be thrown in the brig until this ship is empty! The boats will be here soon to take you ashore. Line up in an orderly fashion,” he sternly commanded, his temper strained.

  Rope ladders were tossed over the rails as the boats brushed along side the ship’s hull. Men dashed to be the first aboard, irritating the boatmen with their precarious attempts to overload their crafts. Gear and assorted goods were handed down and men scrambled over the rail into bobbing crafts. Before everyone could reach shore, it began to rain, a steady mist which soon dampened clothes and hair. The sun was dropping low on the distant horizon, casting picturesque shadows on the water. The breeze was gusting briskly; it yanked at the women’s clothing and played carelessly with their hair. What a contrasting pair of females they made standing there: a flaming-haired woman and a tawny-haired beauty. Time passed snailishly in the flurry of activity.

  The two women stood in the doorway, apprehensively awaiting their turns. Both shivered, from fear and the increasing chill. The dampness caused their noses to glow and their cheeks to flush. They remained still and silent, not even conversing with each other. This awesome moment in time was assailing their senses and mesmerizing them with its implications.

  Eventually, Captain Shurling approached them and smiled regretfully. “Sorry, ladies. Men with gold fever are a reckless and rude bunch. I can’t imagine why they rush ashore like frenzied jackals over a carcass; they can’t head inland until morning.” He chuckled, “They’re frantically searching for a place to sleep and affordable victuals to fill their bellies. See that log cabin to the left of the settlement?” he inquired, pointing in its direction.

  When the two women nodded yes, he continued, “A man named Drayton Cardone lives there. He’s a reliable and pleasant fellow; he buys and sells equipment and supplies. If anyone can help you, it’s Dray. If not, that largest tent belongs to Moore, a lumberman. If there’s a problem or any trouble, see him. He’s a friendly and kind sort. Lumberjacks, trappers, and some of the more fortunate miners eat at his place. He might have some work for you. As to where you’ll live, or even sleep tonight, God only knows. Pardon the candor, but it’s the bare-faced truth. Are you sure you two want to get off the ship? I’ll return you to Seattle for free,” he offered, hoping his generosity would appease any lingering hosti
lity toward him.

  Harriet smiled at him and stated, “You’re a fine man, sir. Thank you, but we’ll be staying. Right, Kathy?” she probed.

  Kathy didn’t even hear her or answer her. She stood transfixed by the railing, her eyes on that gruesome vista and her damp curls blowing around her head in wild abandonment. “Kathy?’” Harriet called out to her. “Are you sure you want to remain here with me? The captain said he would take you back to Seattle without charge.”

  Kathy met her imploring gaze. “If my father’s here, I’ll find him.

  “It’s a shocking sight. Where will we stay? What about our things?”

  “Captain Shurling gave me the names of two men to see. I’ll take care of everything, child,” Harriet announced with false bravado.

  “Let’s go then. It’s getting late,” Kathy whispered. Facing any unknown was better than remaining within Marc’s violent reach.

  The final decision made, they gingerly approached the rope ladder. Harriet agilely went over the side and settled herself in the boat. Their belongings were passed over to a sturdy man in the craft. Kathy dropped her cape and drawstring purse over to the man to give to Harriet, fearing they would entangle her during this terrifying descent.

  As modestly as possible, Kathy placed her leg over the railing and put her foot on the limp rung. The ladder swayed precariously as her entire weight was placed on it. She clung on for dear life, having been cautioned about the temperature of the water and the unlikely chance of finding a private place to dry off and change clothes. Thankfully the distance was only a few feet, although it seemed more like twenty to the girl dangling in mid-air. The wind whipped at her skirt-tail and threatened to entangle her shaky legs. The boat rocked as her feet touched its wooden bottom. She wavered and would have tumbled into the gelid blue water if the burly man hadn’t caught her and steadied her. She flashed him a wan smile of appreciation and relief.

  The smaller boat headed for shore, leaving behind the larger steamship. They turned to wave to Shurling as the captain called out, “Don’t forget; I sail at dawn. If you change your mind, come back before then.”

  The two women waved and smiled again. As the craft neared shore, the man at Shurling’s side asked, “Why didn’t you tell them Slavin will be put ashore before we sail? I doubt Skagway is big enough for Miss Hammond and Mister Slavin.”

  “After getting a good look at that place, maybe they’ll change their minds. If not, that’s too bad. But I want that scum off my ship; I can’t stomach him a minute longer. It’ll teach him a good lesson to be stranded here! In a camp with no other females and scores of husky men, they’ll find somebody to protect them,” he declared, watching the little boat land on the shore. “That Pullen woman is quite a female, but that sandy-haired lass has much to learn,” he muttered as he walked off, caught up in his own cares and interests.

  The snaggle-toothed, snub-nosed man stepped out and dragged his boat onto the loose rocks to beach her. A lopsided grin claimed his broad mouth, looking odd amidst the heavy beard which sorely needed a good trimming. In spite of the harsh conditions, his light blue eyes revealed a kindness and a gentleness which pleased both women. He was a giant of a man when he stood up, his frame robust and hard.

  “Who gonna meetcha here?” he asked in a strange accent which neither female could place, tugging habitually on his wiry beard.

  “No one,” Harriet calmly replied, smiling brightly and confidently. “We came to work and to earn a pouch of gold.”

  “Ya ain’t got no man or family?” he asked in a booming voice.

  Kathy’s face and eyes glowed. “I do!” she blurted. “I’ve come to find my father and join him,” she perkily announced to the startled man who was eying them critically by this time.

  “What be his name?” the dark-haired giant inquired instantly.

  “Jake Hammond,” she replied, lifting her chin proudly.

  “Jake Hammond…,” he echoed, mulling the unfamiliar name over in his mind. “No man hereabouts with that name. I knows most of ’em. No Hammonds,” he declared with finality, twisting some long hairs around his index finger.

  “But I was told he came here two years ago! He must be here!” she argued, alarmed by his assured air.

  “Lots come. Some leave quickly. Some head inland. Some die. Some makes their fortunes and gets out before another winter sets in,” he announced.

  Kathy whitened and swayed. Griff, the boat man, reached out to catch her, thinking she was about to faint at that distressing news. Kathy clutched at his thick arm and held it tightly until her head cleared.

  “Not to worry. If there be a Hammond in this territory, Old Griff’ll find ’em for ye,” he gallantly exclaimed, puffing up with self-confidence, smiling amicably, wanting to return a smile to her face.

  “Thank you, Mister…” she faltered in ignorance of his identity, then said, “I don’t know your name, sir.”

  Griff beamed in pleasure and cheerfulness. “Griffin Carter, but I be called Griff. Where ya wants this stuff?” he genially asked.

  “I don’t rightly know, Griff,” Harriet confessed uncomfortably, presuming friendliness might encourage his assistance. “No one mentioned there weren’t any boarding houses or such. What do you suggest, Griff?” she entreated, her eyes imploring him for help.

  Griff sighed heavily and scratched his head of thick, bushy hair as he gave this puzzle some serious consideration. He finally shook his head. “Don’t get many females over this way. Most of ’em which comes here heads for Dawson the next morning. They don’t exactly needs any special place to stay that one night,” he innocently alerted them to the meaning of his words, then actually blushed when Kathy enlightened him to his crude implication with her sudden inhalation of air. “I meant, there ain’t no place for ladies here, ma’am.”

  “We’re here, so we’ll make the best of it,” Harriet stated to ease his embarrassment. Griff gave a good impression; they might have use of a strong, proud, and genial man like this. “We had no idea things were this rough. My husband died and left me penniless; I couldn’t find a good job down in Seattle. When I read about the gold rush and how much money could be made here with hard work and a cunning mind, we packed up and here we are. We don’t have enough money to buy passage back to America. So, we’ll just have to stay here and find some work and a place to live. You’ve been kind and helpful, Griff; thank you.”

  Flustered by this novel feminine attention and their friendliness to him, he grinned and stammered, “Ain’t no need to thank me. I’ll help you two all I can. I can’t rightly allow two defenseless women to go roaming around a place like this.”

  The captain’s words flashed across Harriet’s frantic mind. “What about a man called Drayton Cardone? Captain Shurling said he might assist us,” she optimistically offered.

  “He might if he was here, but he ain’t. He’s gone to Dawson for a few weeks on business. Be there at least six to seven more days.”

  “What now, Harriet?” Kathy asked in rising panic.

  Before Harriet could reply, another burly man approached them. “Any problem here, Griff?” he asked in a raspy but courteous tone.

  “They ain’t got no family or a place to live, Mr. Moore. I don’t rightly know what to do with ’em,” he replied in a respectful tone.

  “Moore!” Harriet exclaimed in renewed excitement and hope. “You must be the man Captain Shurling mentioned to us. He said to check with a Drayton Cardone or Mr. Moore. Would that be you, sir?” she asked, eagerly awaiting his response.

  Two

  “Probably,” Moore hesitantly mumbled, amazed by the presence of ladies. “Why’d you two come to a secluded and wild place like this?” he probed.

  Harriet nervously repeated her tale.

  “Children!” Moore snapped irritably, glancing around in anger. “Surely you didn’t bring little ones with you?”

  “Not with me. A friend is keeping them until I can send for them. From what I read, the miners pay hef
ty for chores. I’m strong and dependable. Surely there’s plenty of cooking, sewing, cleaning, and doctoring to be done. But Kathy came to search for her father,” she hastily added to lessen his lingering annoyance.

  “You’re Kathy?” Moore asked the younger woman, boldly observing the demure female with eyes which were a lovely mixture of sapphire and amber. He curiously scanned her expensive, almost elegant, dress which seemed absurd in this crude setting.

  “Kathryn Hammond, sir,” she softly answered him, then related her explanation. Kathy noted the way Moore was scrutinizing her; yet his keen study was not offensive.

  He mused over the unfamiliar name, then shrugged.

  Glancing around, Kathy said frantically, “There are countless men here! Surely you can’t know all of them!” she poured out her fear on the roughly dressed man. Abashed, she lowered her head and whispered, “I’m sorry, Mr. Moore. Please forgive my outburst.”

  “I understand, miss. You came a long way under bad conditions to discover worse. This isn’t what you two expected, is it? Alaska’s a big territory. We’re sitting on a small tip; this here’s the Panhandle area. He could be hundreds of miles from Skagway,” he ventured.

  “But his last letter said Skagway, Alaska,” she softly disputed. Lingering suspicions about her mother’s motive for keeping that momentous letter a secret returned to plague her. Had it been the only word from her father over the years? She pushed her mental probings aside to listen to Moore’s reply.

  “When did she receive that letter?” Moore quizzed, intrigued by the mystery which had compelled this delicate girl to Alaska.

  “Mama said about two years,” she quickly replied, embarrassed by her lack of knowledge about her own father.

  “A lot can happen in two years in a place like this. I’ve been here years, and I’ve never met him or heard of him. I’ll ask around if you want me to. I’ve got men who travel to Dawson and Whitehorse. They can check around there for you,” he kindly offered.