Gypsy - Lesley Pearse [143]
She found you could buy almost anything at Sheep Camp, provided you had enough money. Whisky, dark glasses to prevent snow blindness, sledges, fur hats, even candy. There were whores too, who for five dollars would make sure a man enjoyed his last night of relative comfort before striking out for the summit.
Despite her exhaustion from the day’s arduous trek, Beth couldn’t help but smile at these whores, for they were the plainest, grubbiest women she’d seen since the shirt factory in Montreal. Some sported ragged satin dresses, a blanket tied round their shoulders like a cape, heavy men’s boots on their feet and hair like rats’ tails. Yet there were plenty of takers for their services.
Once into the ‘hotel’, hemmed in on all sides by humanity, there was no possibility of getting out again during the night. Beth was sandwiched between Theo and Sam, and the stench of feet and other body odours was so strong that she pulled her fur-lined hood right over her mouth and nose, and hoped that exhaustion would ensure she could fall asleep.
She was awake for what seemed all night, listening to an orchestra of different kinds of snores. There were loud roaring ones like steam trains, high-pitched squeaks, some regular, ordinary snores and some irregular ones, and every now and then someone would break wind, cough or groan. One man sounded as though he was praying, and another swore in his sleep. It was like a mass tuning of strange instruments.
Theo’s breathing was heavy, Sam’s light. Jack was lying behind Sam but she couldn’t distinguish his sound from anyone else’s. Beth was aware that this was probably the most comfortable and warm she could expect to be for weeks and that scared her even more. Why was she going? She didn’t care about gold and she could make enough money in Skagway to ensure she could go back to England next year with a sizeable nest egg. What if there was an avalanche while they were on the mountain and she was buried alive? What if she fell and broke her leg or arm? What then?
She must have fallen asleep eventually for the next thing she knew, Jack was shaking her and saying it was time to go.
By midday Beth was already convinced she couldn’t take another step. The pack on her back was small, just twenty-five pounds in weight, containing nothing more than dry clothing, while the boys had ones twice as heavy, and Sam and Jack had a sledge each too, but it felt like a ton weight. The snow was packed hard underfoot, but uneven because of the stones beneath it, so she had to watch where she was stepping, using her stout pole for support as she dragged herself, puffing and panting, ever upwards.
She was sweating from the exertion in so many clothes, but the one time she took off her fur-lined coat, the icy wind chilled her to the bone within seconds. She wanted a hot drink and a sit-down, her eyes watered in the icy wind, her lips were cracking and every bone in her body was shrieking at her to stop. She cursed her long skirt and petticoats which gathered up the loose snow with every step, and determined that when they finally got to the Scales, she would break with propriety and persuade Sam to let her wear one of his pairs of trousers.
She got the only drink of the day at the Stone House when Jack heated up water in their volcano kettle, feeding the fire he’d lit inside it with dry sticks and wood shavings he’d stored up from his carpentry work back in Skagway. As he bent over it, blowing into the fire between the double walls, Beth watched him in admiration, wondering why it was only he who had realized back in Vancouver that this curious doubled-walled invention with space to light a small fire inside it would be the single most useful piece of equipment they could own. It could be lit in a high wind or even rain and still boil the water quickly.
She recalled