Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [128]
Finally, on 15 August, they boarded the Albany, a decrepit steamer which by anyone’s standards was barely seaworthy. Jack had booked them a cabin, but when they boarded they were told most of the cabins had been ripped out to make room for more freight and passengers.
They could do nothing but accept this as it was clear they would be thrown off if they complained, so they found a small space on the deck and hunkered down, surrounded by their supplies.
As the steamer left Vancouver along with a huge flotilla of other vessels, all the passengers were delirious with excitement. Even if there had been room enough for people to stretch out, it was doubtful anyone could have slept.
It was only as the boat sailed into the Inside Passage of Alaska, with its breathtakingly beautiful scenery of virgin forests, snow-capped mountains and misty fiords on both sides of the narrow channel that they began to realize what lay in store for them.
They might be looking at sheer beauty beyond the ship’s rail, but it was marred by the stench of coal, horse manure, vomit and sweat all around them. Pack dogs howled constantly, horses kicked and neighed, and the ship was so crowded they didn’t dare vacate their tiny space on deck for fear of losing it. Huddling together under a tarpaulin against the chill wind or heavy rain, they realized the discomfort they felt now could only become greater before they reached the goldfields.
Most of their fellow passengers had not gone to the trouble Jack had, to find out exactly where the Klondike was, and they believed the goldfields were just a hike from Skagway. Few of them knew mountains had to be scaled, and a boat was needed to take them the last 500 miles.
Some people had been coerced in to buying ridiculous items like bicycles on skis, or clockwork gold-panning gadgets that could never work. Others had brought enough timber to build their own cabin, a piano or a cast-iron cooking stove, but given no thought to how they would get these things up a mountain.
Yet despite the terrible conditions on the boat — waiting seven hours for a meal so dreadful it was all but inedible, the lack of washing facilities, and lavatories that made Beth retch — she and the boys remained in good spirits for there was a party-like atmosphere on the ship, everyone as excited as children going to a fair.
It was entertaining to observe the huge variety of people. Sharply dressed gentlemen were forced to share space with rough sailors and lumberjacks; there were garishly dressed women with painted faces, old-timers from previous stampedes, and clerics who appeared to be going in a missionary capacity. The vast majority were Americans and Canadians, but there were Germans, Swedes, Hungarians, Mexicans and even Japanese too. What unified them all was the dream of returning home rich. When they spoke of the gold their eyes would blaze, and they refused to allow their excitement to be diluted by mere discomfort.
‘We should reach Skagway tomorrow,’ Jack said as he wriggled back under the tarpaulin after a two-hour absence. It was the ninth day of the voyage and they were in the stunningly beautiful Lynn Canal which ended with the beaches of Skagway and Dyea. Sheer mountain slopes topped with a dusting of snow rose up from the clear turquoise water, dwarfing the raggle-taggle convoy of ships sailing up through the narrow corridor. ‘I’ve been talking to one of the crew that’s been there before. He said there’s only a tiny wharf, so we’ll have to wade ashore with our stuff. Good job we’re already in our oldest clothes!’
‘They could do with a wash,’ Beth giggled, for they’d all had the same things on since they embarked. ‘But won’t the dried food get damaged in the sea water?’
‘I’m more worried that our things’ll be stolen.’ Jack frowned. ‘You can bet there’ll be plenty of thieves on the lookout. I’ll get you ashore first, Beth. Theo or Sam can stay here and guard our stuff, then we’ll ferry it bit by bit out to you on the beach.’
‘Surely we can pay a sailor to row us in with