Chapter IV: Part 4

Supper once more on reindeer meat. This time prepared as a sort of a stew with onions--again very good. But we were to leave after supper for St. Michael and I see no intention to that effect. Instead they all go once more to the corral to continue the work until about 11 p. m. So I have to settle for the night, with some hope that we may leave in the morning. We sleep four side by side in a tent 10 feet wide. Luckily they had a spare clean blanket or two, and but one of the three snores, and he like a lady; also the weather has cleared and is warmer, so the night is fairly good.

Wednesday, July 14. Morning bright, calm. Breakfast, and all hurry off to corral without even any explanation--just a few casual words, from which I understand that we shall not go. So I write whole forenoon, though feeling none too good about the delay. Had I my own boat, as one should have in this country, all would be different. As it is I am utterly helpless. At lunch speak to Mr. Williams; and though not much willing, he half promises that we may go to St. Michael to-night.

Afternoon. Walk 8 miles along the beach, to a cape and back, looking in vain for traces of human habitation and collecting along the beach what this offers, which outside of some odd, flat, polished stones is but little. Come back near 6--soon after supper--and hear with much satisfaction that, after all, we will go to-night to St. Michael.

RÉSUMÉ

So ends the Yukon and its immediate vicinity. What has been learned?

1. The great and easily navigable river, extending for many hundreds of miles from west to east, could not but have played a material part in the peopling of Alaska, and quite probably in that of the continent, and all human movements along it must have left some material remains. It seems, therefore, a justified inference that the valley of the Yukon harbors human remains of much scientific value.

2. Such remains, judging from the present conditions, were left exclusively along the banks of the river, on the flood-safe elevated platforms of the banks, and especially about the mouths of the tributaries of the Yukon of those times.

3. But the banks and mouths of the past are seldom, if ever, those of to-day. The river, with its currents, storms, and ice pack every spring, is changing from year to year. It is ever cutting and eroding in places, and building bars and islands or covering with flood silts in others. In many stretches no one can be sure where the banks were 500 or 1,000 years ago, not to speak of earlier periods.

4. The banks and islands of to-day, therefore, are for the most part recent formations, in which it would be useless to expect anything very ancient. And there is nothing like the successive ocean beaches at Nome and elsewhere, which would guide exploration.

5. The right hilly side of the river alone seems to offer some hope of locating some more ancient sites and remains; yet it is quite certain that the river ran once far to the left, for all the vast flats on that side are of its construction; so that the more ancient remains of man may lie in that direction. But there everything is, from the point of view of archeology, a practically unexplorable jungle and wilderness, and there is no one there who might make accidental discoveries.

6. It would seem that the best hope for the archeologist along the Yukon, so far as the more ancient remains are concerned, lies along the tributaries of the stream, and that particularly at the old limits of the more recently made lands.

7. Nevertheless the banks of the Yukon as they are now are not wholly barren. Up from Tanana, at the Old Station, probably about Ruby and Nulato, about Kaltag and the Greyling River, at Bonasila, Holy Cross and Ghost Creek, and at the Mountain village, Dog village, Russian Mission, and doubtless a number of other sites, they contain both cultural and skeletal remains that, if recovered, will be invaluable to the anthropological history of these regions.

8. The line of demarcation between the Indians of the Yukon and the Eskimo, outside of language, is indefinite. Traces of old Eskimo admixture are perceptible among the Indians far up the river, and the cultures of the two peoples in many respects merge into each other; while among the Eskimo of the lower river and farther on there are physiognomies that it would be hard to separate from the Indian. Whether all this means simply extensive past mixture, or whether, as would seem, the Alaska Indians as a whole are nearer physically to the Eskimo than are the tribes in the States, remains to be determined. Among the Athapascan Mescalero Apache, who have reached as far south as New Mexico, a somewhat Eskimoid tinge to the face, especially in young women, was by no means very unusual 25 years ago when I studied this tribe. This problem will be touched upon again in this volume.

9. All along the Yukon, from near Tanana (Old Station) to the mouth of the river, in the Indian and in the Eskimo region, there prevailed the same type of winter house, namely, a largely subterranean room with a subterranean tunnel or corridor entrance; and also a similar type of summer dwelling, formerly a skin, now a canvas, tent. The winter dwellings were built within of stout posts and covered with birch bark and sod, looking from outside much like the present-day Navaho hogan; while the pits left by them remind one of the southwestern "pit dwellings," the kashims of the Pueblo kivas. As a hogan, so these largely subterranean dwellings along the Yukon had a smoke-air-and-light hole in the center of the top, a fireplace in the middle of the floor, and benches (of heavy hewn planks in the north) along the sides. Each village, furthermore, had at least one larger structure of similar nature, the "kashim," or communal house. All this may still be traced more or less plainly on the dead sites along the Yukon, and houses as well as a kashim of this type were seen at Kotlik and Pastolik, at the mouth of the river.

10. The native industry of the river presents also much similarity, though there are differences.

Pottery, of much the same type and decoration, was made at least as far as the lower middle Yukon.

Stone implements were made and used all along the river, and were much alike. But the double-grooved, cupid-bow ax of the Yukon Indian, hafted in the center and used for chipping rather than cutting, is lower down replaced by the same ax, in which one end has been broken off (or has not been finished), and which is hafted as an adze; or by oblong quadrilateral flat axes which have not been found up the river.

The peculiar and apparently very primitive stone industry of Bonasila is, it seems, just a development of local conditions--nature of most available stone, and essentially hunting habit of the people that resulted in many skins which called for numerous scrapers. Nevertheless the site deserves a thorough further exploration.

There was apparently not much basketry along the river, the place of the baskets being taken by the birch-bark dishes of the Indian and the kantág or ingeniously made wooden dish of the Eskimo part of the river.

Canoes among the Yukon Indians were mainly of birch bark, while the Eskimo had mainly skin canoes.

11. Neither the Indians nor the Eskimo of the Yukon practiced deformation of the head or of any other part of the body, or dental mutilation. The Indians as well as the Eskimo occasionally pierced the septum of the nose, for nose pieces, while the Eskimo cut on each side a slit in the lower lip for the introduction of labrets. The Eskimo cut their hair short in a characteristic way, reminding strongly of certain monks; the Indians left their hair long. But at Anvik the Indians both cut their hair and wore labrets. They also used the wooden dish.

12. From all the preceding it appears that there must have been long and intensive contacts between the Yukon Eskimo and Indians; that, through war or in peace, they became mutually admixed; and that there were mutual cultural transmissions.

13. No further light for the present could be gained on the origin, antiquity, or early migrations of the Yukon Indian. It was determined, however, that he represents but one main physical type, and that this type is the same as that of the Indians of the Tanana and most other Alaskan Indians of the present time.

14. Exceptional skeletal remains were washed out from the bank at Bonasila. They are of Indians (?), but appear to be not those of the Yukon Indian of to-day. They present a problem which is to be solved by further exploration of the site.

15. The Eskimo of the lower parts of the river are in general better preserved and more coherent than the Indians. They are more tractable people and are taking more readily to work and civilization.

16. These Eskimo show, in the majority of cases, fairly typical Eskimo physiognomies. But their heads are not as those of the northern and eastern members of the race. The head is less narrow, less high, and has but now and then a suggestion of the scaphoid form that is so characteristic of the Greenland, Labrador, or northern Eskimo cranium; also, the angles of the jaws are less bulging and the lower jaws themselves do not appear so heavy.

17. The Yukon Eskimo burials are in all essentials much like those of the Indians up the river. Here again a cultural connection is very evident, in this case there having in all probability been an adaptation of methods by the Eskimo from the Indians.

18. Archeological prospects along the delta flats occupied by the Eskimo appear very limited.

ST. MICHAEL

Thursday, July 15. In the morning, after a good trip, reach St. Michael--quite a town from a distance, with many boats on the shore in front of it; but soon find that it is largely a dead city and ships' graveyard, not harbor. With the gold rush over, and the Government railroad from Seward to the Tanana, men and business have departed. Before the summer is over most of the large buildings and the fine large boats are to be demolished, and there will be left but a lonely village.

Unload my collections on the old dock. The postman kindly comes down from his place, which, with Mr. Williams's store, is far up on the hill above the harbor, the boxes are weighed and stamped for the parcel post, and relieved of them I go to the hotel and spend the day in visiting the teacher, the marshal, Mr. Williams's store, where I see a whole lot of recent Eskimo ceremonial masks decorated with colors and feathers, and the wireless station to send a message to the Institution. All native (Eskimo) character is almost gone from the place, what remains being mainly civilized mix bloods; and also little, if anything, remains to be collected, particularly now when all vacant land is thickly overgrown with grass and weeds. An occasional skull appears, one having been seen recently on the beach and one on Whale Island, but there is little besides, though things could be found doubtless by excavation.

Items of interest in Mr. Williams's store, and also in that of the N. C. Co., are various articles cut handsomely by the Eskimo from walrus ivory, both fresh and "fossil" (old and nicely discolored). There are beads, napkin rings, hairpins, cigar and cigarette holders, and other objects, generally exceedingly well made and decorated. It is, of course, well known that the Eskimo are very apt in this work; it is not, however, so well known that every island or village has certain specialties and types of decoration. This is so true that an observer before long can tell in many instances just where a given article has been made.

The fossil ivory industry is, it was soon learned, becoming a serious detriment to archeological work in these regions; of which, however, more later.

During the day I find that a small boat, the _Silver Wave_, belonging to Lomen Bros., will leave St. Michael for Nome that same evening. As this suits me very well I engage a berth on the boat, help 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, so 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 60 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 came 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 off 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 rowboat, 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 unguarded, 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 looks out on a dilapidated tin roof--must ask for another. Finally get one "front" for $3--the other was only $2.50. Musty too, but fairly large, and with a double bed with, at last again, clean covers.

Unshaven--in the khaki worse for rain and work--with fingers so sore they can not bear a touch, feverish, and head still dizzy--I go to lunch. On my way stop at Coast Guard building--no one there; at the Roads Commission--office empty; at the Customs--not a soul. But at the courthouse they tell me where Judge Lomen sometimes lunches, and so I go there. It is near by--nothing here is far distant--and so I soon sit at Mrs. Niebeling's, a justly famed Nome's "for everybody," at a clean table and to a big civilized dinner. Order reindeer roast--find it this time, in my condition, not much to boast of--one could hardly tell it from similarly done beef--and begin on the coffee when in comes a young man, asks me if I am the doctor, and introduces himself as Mr. Alfred Lomen, the judge's son; and in a minute or two in comes the judge himself, a kindly man of something over 70. It all makes me feel a lot better, though still weak. Have rest of lunch together and talk, but do not get very far in anything that interests me; but the judge takes me to the Catholic Fathers here, who have an orphanage somewhere near where I want next to go, and leaves me with Father Post. The father is kindly, but himself does not know much, and so makes arrangements for me to meet next day Father Lafortune, who works among the Eskimo.

Then I go once more to the Coast Guard building and meet Captain Ross, in charge. The _Bear_, I learn, has just arrived here, and is soon going north. She is my godsend, evidently. So Captain Ross sends me over to see Captain Cochran. The meeting is good, and I have a promise to be taken to the cape and some other stations. But the _Bear_ goes first to coal at St. Michael, and then will make a visit to St. Lawrence Island. So I propose to go to Teller first, see what I can of the Chukchee-Eskimo "battle field" near there, and be taken from there by the _Bear_. The priests give me some hope for getting there over an inland route, but later on tell me one of the boats of the orphanage which is located in that region is away and the other has broken down, so that there will be no possibility of making the trip through the Salt Lake and to Teller. But the _Victoria_ (the Seattle boat to come to-night) will go to Teller. Unfortunately, if weather is rough or there are no passengers she will not stop at Nome, so all is again uncertain. The _Silver Wave_ goes northward next Monday, but I have a dread of her. All of which is put down merely to show slightly what an explorer without a boat of his own may expect in these regions.

Nome, Saturday, July 17. Poor night again--it surely seems to be the fashion in Alaska. The _Victoria_ came at night (or what should be night). The ramshackle big frame hotel, with partitions so thin that they transmit every sound, got about 40 guests, and next room to mine came to be occupied by two women who had visitors, female and male, were taken out for a ride after 12 and returned about 2 a. m. One of them, or their visitor, had a perpetual vocal gush, the others chimed in now and then, and a strong male voice added the bass from time to time, with old Fords noisily coming and going outside, and people going up and down the stairs. So sleep for some hours was out of the question. And there was nothing to do about it.

After breakfast went to meet Father Lafortune, a Catholic missionary priest to the Eskimo, who speaks their language well and who promised to accompany me to their habitations; and together we spent the forenoon on one side of the town, among the natives of the Diomedes, and most of the afternoon on the other end among the people from King Island. It was a good experience, resulting in seeing a good many of the Eskimo and getting some information, a few photographs, and quite a few old specimens. Then we went to the parsonage, where I got a few good photos from Father Lafortune's collection. He is a matter-of-fact, always ready to help, natural he-man, rather than a priest and teacher, and a great practical helper to the natives, who all are his friends.

Also saw Judge Lomen, arranged for lecture to-morrow, saw Captain Ross about the _Bear_, and various other people; but there is not much to be obtained here about old sites and specimens. Telegraphed Institution, and also to the Russian consul at Montreal for permission to visit the Great Diomede Island. Evening packing. Natives bring walrus ivory, some excellent pieces. Weather whole day cloudy, threatening, occasional showers, cool but not cold.

Sunday, July 18. Heavy sleep 10 p. m. to 7 a. m., regardless of a typewriter going in the next room and the women (now quieter, however) on the other side.

Forenoon spent in talking with people and attending a little service, for the natives mainly, at the Catholic Church of Fathers Post and Lafortune. Poor, simple, but sincere and interesting.

After lunch more consultations, then a visit to bank where they smelt gold dust (even to-day), and then a lecture on "The Peopling of America," at the courthouse. Well attended, and many came to shake hands after. Then a dinner, with examination of a number of interesting and valuable specimens, at Judge Lomen's. Among other objects there is a duplicate, in ivory, of the broken double ax from the Yukon, the two grooves and even the break being well represented. Evening--examination of specimens at Reverend Baldwin's. Cloudy, cool, threatening, but stormy weather abating.

ABOUT NOME

Due to the delay with the _Bear_, the next few days until July 23 were spent at and about Nome. They proved more profitable than was expected. Numbers of interesting specimens were found in the possession of some of the dealers, and more of those of scientific value were secured either through gift or by purchase for the National Museum. These collections consisted of objects of stone--i. e., spear points, knives, axes, etc.--but above all of utensils, spear points, effigies, etc., some of them of remarkable artistry and decoration, were made of walrus ivory that through age has turned "fossil."

Among the stone objects were several axes made of the greenish, hard nephrite which came from the "Jade Mountain" on the Kobuk River. The objects from fossil ivory came principally from the St. Lawrence Island, the Diomede Islands, Cape Wales, unknown parts of the nearer Asiatic coast, and here and there from the Seward Peninsula.

A large majority of these objects are now collected by the natives themselves, who assiduously excavate the old sites, and are sold at so much per pound as "fossil ivory" to crews of visiting boats or to merchants at Nome and elsewhere, to be worked up into beads, pendants, and other objects of semi-jewelry that find ready sale among the whites.

In addition a certain part of these objects is reserved by the natives, especially those of the Diomede Islands, and worked up by themselves. The more striking the coloration of the ivory, the more desirable it is for the beads, etc., and the less chance of the object, regardless of its archeological or artistic value, to be preserved. The most artistic pieces, nevertheless, are usually disposed of separately, bringing higher prices than could be obtained for beads.

In this way hundreds of pounds collectively of ancient implements, statuettes, etc., are recovered each year from the old sites on both the Asiatic and the American side of the Bering Sea, and are cut up, their scientific value being lost. Most of the fossil ivory, fortunately, consists of objects which, though showing man's workmanship, are of relatively little scientific value; nevertheless it was seen repeatedly that specimens of real archeological value and artistic interest would be destroyed if their color and texture made them suitable for some of the higher-priced jewelry.

The Eskimo, as repeatedly found later, have not the slightest hesitation about excavating the old sites, and whatever they can not use, which as a rule includes animal and human bones, and in fact everything else except stone tools and ivory, is left in the excavated soil and lost. The amount of destruction thus accomplished by the women, children, and even men each year is large and promises to grow from year to year as long as the supply lasts. This means that unless scientific exploration of these old sites is hastened there will be little left before long to study.

The fossil ivory trade has become such that many of the officers and the crews even of the visiting vessels, including the revenue cutters, engage in buying the ivory from the natives and cutting it up in their spare time into beads and other ornaments. A captain of a well-known boat who with his crew visited in the summer of 1926 a small island on which there is an extensive frozen refuse heap containing many bones and tools of the natives who once occupied the place, exclaimed, "Gad, there's $50,000 of ivory in sight."

The boat crew took away about "2 bushels" of it, or all that could be removed from the extensive frozen pile. I saw some of this ivory later, all cut up, but with a number of the pieces still showing old human handiwork, and some beads made of other parts of the lot were brought later to my office in Washington.

If American archeology and ethnology are to learn what they need in these regions it is absolutely essential that they take early steps for a proper exploration of the old sites, besides which every effort should be made by the intelligent traders, missionaries, teachers, and officials to save the more artistic and characteristic pieces of human workmanship in the old ivory, and bring them with such data as may be available to the attention of scientific men or institutions. It would in fact be of much value, and the writer has suggested this to the Governor of Alaska, to establish a local museum at Nome, where such objects could be gathered and saved to science.

ABORIGINAL REMAINS

The coast of which Nome is now the human center, up to Cape Wales, together with the nearer islands, was occupied by the Maiglemiut (Zagoskin), or Mahlemut (Dall et al.) subdivision of the Eskimo. They were a strong group, and great traders. During the Russian times the Aziags, from what is now the Sledge Island, with probably others from the coast, visited yearly for trading purposes as far as St. Michael and the Yukon, while the Wales people were known to trade up to fairly recently as far as Kotzebue, both at the same time having trading connections with Asia.

Of these natives, with the exception of those at Wales, there remains but little. On Sledge Island there are only two dead villages, and on the coast from Port Clarence to far east of Nome there is not a single existing native settlement. A few remnants of the people live in Nome, but they have lost all individuality.

Dead sites are known to exist from west to east, at Cape Wooley; at the mouth of the Sonora or Quartz Creek; at the mouth of the Penny River--some natives are said to still go to fish there in summer; at the mouth of a small river 3 miles east of Nome; both west (a larger village) and east (a small site) of Cape Nome; and 18 miles east of Nome (the "Nook" village).

Most of these sites have been peopled within the memory of the oldest inhabitants.

Thanks to the kind aid of the Reverend Doctor Baldwin, I was able to visit several of the sites east of Nome, more particularly the Nook village, and it was still possible to find two skeletons and a skull on these sites.

The Nook site must have been one of considerable importance. It was an especially large village, or rather two near-by villages, in one of which I counted upward of 30 depressions, remnants of the semisubterranean houses with vestibules, such as are elsewhere described from the Yukon.

Here a clear illustration was had of what changes on sites of this nature may be wrought in a short time by the elements.

Fifteen years ago, I was assured, there were still many burials and skeletal remains scattered along the coast near the Nook village. Then in 1913 came a great southwestern storm, which at Nome ripped up the cemetery and carried away some coffins with bodies, scattering them over the plains in the vicinity. Since that storm not a vestige remains of any of the burials or bones near the large Nook village. On prolonged examination I found nothing but sands overgrown with the usual coast vegetation. Everything had been carried away or buried and the pits of the houses were evidently themselves largely filled in.

The burials on this coast west of Golovnin Bay were evidently all of a simpler nature than those on Norton Sound and the Yukon. There is plenty of driftwood, but for some reason this was not hewn into boards with which to make burial boxes. The dead were merely laid upon and covered with the driftwood, though this was done, as later seen on Golovnin Bay, rather ingeniously. One of the two skeletons found near Cape Nome, an adult male, lay simply among the rocks on the lower part of the slope of the hill.

Old sites, though often small, may be confidently looked for along all these coasts in the shelter of every promontory, at the mouth of each stream, and on the spits which separate the ocean from inland lagoons (as in the case of the Nook village).

NOME--BERING STRAIT--BARROW

Friday, July 23. Received word to be on the _Bear_, which arrived yesterday, before 10 o'clock this morning. Due to the shallowness of the water the boat, though drawing only 18 feet, stands far out from the shore and makes a pretty sight, looks also quite large in these waters where there is nothing above a few hundred tons.

Am soon at home. The captain's cabin, with three beds, is nicely furnished, but has the disadvantage of being situated at the very rear of the vessel, above and beyond the screw. There is another passenger, a teacher-nurse for Barrow. I take the isolated bunk on the right, and this becomes my corner for the next six weeks. Toward 11 a. m. the wind begins to freshen, soon after which we leave for St. Lawrence Island. After midday the wind increases considerably, waves rise, and the _Bear_ begins to plunge. Before the afternoon is over the wind blows a half gale and we are being tossed about a great deal. Have to take to bed. The boat is being tossed up and down and in all directions. Resist in vain, then at last become ill, and this passes into a long spell of about the worst seasickness I have ever endured. There were a good many sick on the _Bear_ that evening and night.

Saturday, July 24. Wind and water slowly quieting down, and the boat is approaching Cape Chibukak off St. Lawrence Island, where is located the main of the two villages of the island, known as Gambell. The _Bear_ gradually approaches to within about a half mile of the shore, where we anchor. The water here is quieter, and before long a large baidar (native skin boat) is shoved off from the land and approaches our boat. This is the usual procedure when the sea permits. There are no docks, and closer in there is danger from rocks and shallows. There are a number of natives in the boat, together with the local teacher, and each one, including the teacher, carries a smaller or larger bag of fossil ivory, various articles made of fresh ivory, and some other objects, for sale to the officers and crew of the boat. They climb on our deck, where they evidently feel quite at home, and in a few minutes carry on a busy trade and barter with everyone. I succeed in getting a fine fossil ivory pick; but the main supply had evidently been preempted and I only see it later in the possession of the officers, who kindly let me have what is of less value to them and more to science.

Some of the Eskimo bring, in addition to the ivory, other articles for sale--fish, birds, and the meat of the reindeer, which are for the ship's messes and constitute very welcome additions to the diet. Besides all this the natives also frequently bring skins of foxes and even bear, which also find buyers. In return the boats carry off the mail and such supplies as they have obtained by barter or purchase. These visits are mutually enjoyable as well as profitable occasions, and afford one the opportunity of seeing many of the natives, even if prevented, as in this case, from visiting their village.

The Eskimo impress one here as in every further locality as a lively, cheerful, and intelligent lot, good traders, and advancing in many ways in civilization. The latter is perhaps especially true of the St. Lawrence Eskimo, who from what was seen now and later must have had especially good missionaries and teachers as well as a considerable freedom from bad influences from the outside.

SAVONGA

About 40 miles east-southeast of Gambell is the second and smaller village of the St. Lawrence Island, known as Savonga, which was the object of our next visit. It was here that we were to buy two or three reindeer carcasses, the animals being killed and dressed for us by the natives in an astonishingly short time. The little village is prettily situated on the green flat of the elevated beach. It consists of less than a dozen modern small frame dwellings. One of these, that of the headman, Sapilla (who regrettably died during the following winter), is of two stories--a unique feature for an Eskimo dwelling in these waters. Here we were visited by three boats and the previous scenes were repeated, only, due to the proximity of a rich old site, there were more objects of old ivory.

The captain made me acquainted with Sapilla, whom I found remarkably white-man-like in behavior. Then the ship doctor, not feeling very well after yesterday's storm, filled my pockets with tooth forceps and I was taken to the shore, to see the women and children who would not venture out and to attend to any tooth extraction that might be needed.

We were considerably farther from the shore than even at Gambell, but I was sent on one of our motor boats and so it did not take long to land. Upon landing we came to bright and clean and smiling little groups of women and children, full of color in their cotton dresses, and I was soon in one of their houses. All these dwellings were built by the Eskimo themselves, and it was a most gratifying surprise to find them as clean and wholesome as any similar dwelling of whites could be. Moreover, these houses were furnished with stoves, chairs, tables, crockery and other utensils exactly as if they were those of a good class of whites, with the smell of the seal, which as a rule is so clinging to and characteristic of the Eskimo house, barely perceptible.

It was a busy and interesting hour that I spent at Savonga. I saw probably all the inhabitants that were at home; pulled five teeth--the teeth of these quite civilized people are no more as sound and solid as were those of their fathers and mothers--and found and purchased cheaply many smaller objects of fossil ivory, which they excavate from a near-by old site.

These objects are obtained from an old village located on the coast about 4 miles farther east, on or near the North Cape, visible from our boat. The natives excavate in this site as far as it thaws every summer, and find many objects. They, moreover, make an occasional trip to the two little rocky Punuk islands located about 12 miles south of the East Cape of the St. Lawrence, which, though accurately charted by the Russians as early as 1849, yet until the summer of 1926 remained practically unknown. On one of these islands there is now known to exist an extensive frozen refuse heap, containing large quantities of old ivory implements as well as other objects of scientific interest.

The land visit was a great tonic after the wild and mean preceding night, and I did not relish at all the _Bear's_ whistle calling us away. What a great thing it would be if a revenue cutter could for just one season be given to science!

Sunday, July 25. Left St. Lawrence 9.30 last night, sea quieting. We are now passing, on our right, King Island, isolated rocky mass. Day fair, cool, water getting smooth.

About 50 miles north one can now see plainly Cape Prince of Wales (pl. 5, _a_), and to the left, hazy, the two Diomedes. We are now 95 miles from St. Lawrence. On really clear days one could see from here even the Asiatic heights. Therefore, from the latter on a clear day one sees the Diomedes, the Cape, the highlands beyond, and King Island, while a little farther south there is on such a day a good view from Asia of the St. Lawrence Island. All this was in good weather easily reached from Asia and must have been utilized from the earliest time in passing onward from one continent to the other.

We can now see also much of the coast in the direction of Teller and the York Mountains behind.

From hour to hour there is growing on one a profound appreciation that the Bering Sea was a most favorable amphitheater of migration, particularly from the less hospitable Asia eastward into America. And practically the whole trend of native movements to this day is from Asia toward America.

Later in the day, now a fine, bright summer day, arrive off Wales. Here again anchor far out. Last year the _Bear_ grounded here and our captain is apprehensive. Wales is a straggly village--or two villages--located on a large, flat sandy spit, dotted with water pools, and projecting from the Seward Peninsula toward Asia. Near by are old sites, probably of much archeological value, and in these for some weeks now excavations have been carried on by Dr. D. Jenness, of the Victoria Memorial Museum of Ottawa. Here also is located an exceptionally educated and observant teacher, Mr. Clark M. Garber.

A big umiak comes to us with many natives bringing the usual trade, and on it, much to my pleasure, are both Doctor Jenness and Mr. Garber. Doctor Jenness asks to go with us to the Little Diomede to do some work there. He has had encouraging experience here, finding evidences of occupation dating many centuries back, and has collected some valuable specimens, including a few with the fine old curved-line decoration. Mr. Garber gives me some valuable information about the skeletal remains of this place and engages to collect for me, who can not leave the boat, a few boxes of these specimens, which promise is fulfilled later.

The natives are a jolly and sturdy lot, even though they bear, and that since their earliest contacts with whites, a rather bad reputation. That this is founded in some fact, at least, is told us in the annals of the Russians, and is also shown by the little structure on the hillside off which we are anchored. This has a tragic and at the same time quaint history. It is the grave of a missionary Doctor Thornton, who was killed, we are told, by two local young fellows. These were apprehended, sentenced to die, and were to be shot by their relatives, which all evidently found quite just. On the appointed day they were taken out to the burial ground, helped to prepare their burials, one asked yet to be allowed to go to the village to get a drink, went and returned, and then both were shot. The executioner of the boy who went to get the drink is said to have been his uncle.

THE DIOMEDES

Late that night we leave slowly for the Diomede Islands, the nearer of which is only about 18 miles distant. The two islands lie, as is well known, just about in the middle of the Bering Strait. One is known as the larger or Russian, the other as the smaller or American Diomede. The boundary line between Russia and the United States passes between the two. Both islands have been occupied since far back by the Eskimo. To-day there is one small village on the American and two small settlements on the Russian island.

July 26. Up at 5.40, breakfast 6, and off in one of our staunch motor boats, with Jenness, for the Little Diomede. Countless birds flying in streams about the island.

The island is just a big rock, with barren flat top and steep sides, covered where inclination permits with great numbers of larger and smaller granite bowlders. There is neither tree nor brush here. The village, if it deserves that name, with a school, occupies an easier slope, facing the larger island across a strait seemingly about a mile broad. There are but a few dwellings, due to local necessities and conditions built above ground and outside of stone. One that was entered showed a dark fore-room, a storage attic, and a cozy somewhat lighted living and sleeping back room, entered through a low and narrow entrance. The houses seem to be built on old débris of habitations, and there are refuse heaps, one of which was eventually worked in by Doctor Jenness, though without much profit.

The bowlder-covered slope above the village was the burial ground of the natives. (Pl. 5, _b_.) Unfortunately most of the skeletal remains have been collected by a former teacher and then left and lost. With Doctor Jenness and the present teacher, himself an Eskimo, we climb from bowlder to bowlder and collect what remains. The work is both risky to the limbs and difficult in other respects. The large bowlders are piled up many deep; and there being little or no soil, there are all sorts of holes and crevices between and underneath the stones. Deep in these crevices, completely out of sight or reach, nest innumerable birds (the little auk), and their chatter is heard everywhere. But into these impenetrable crevices also have fallen many of the bones and skulls of the bodies that have been "buried" among the bowlders, and also doubtless many of the smaller articles laid by the bodies.

The burials here were made in any suitable space among the rocks. The body was laid in this space, without any coffin and evidently not much clothing. About it and on the rocks above were placed various articles. We found clay lamps, remnants of various wooden objects, the bone end pieces of lances, and finally one or two pieces of driftwood to mark the place. Here the bodies decayed and what was left had either tumbled or was washed by rain into the crevices. It was suggested, however, that much may have been taken by dogs and foxes. Some of the skulls and here and there one of the larger bones remained, to eventually be covered by moss and eroded. With the help of Doctor Jenness and the teacher I was able to find five male and seven female crania in fair condition, which will be of much value in the study of this interesting contingent of the Eskimo.

No evidence in the graveyard among the rocks of any great antiquity, nothing more than perhaps a few scores of years. But traces of older burials would surely be completely lost among the rocks, though they may lie in the deep crevices and holes where they can not be reached.

Upon return am treated to a cup of good hot coffee--never can get a real hot cup of coffee on the boat--and excellent bread, made by the Eskimo wife of the teacher; and see his family of fine chubby children. Can not help but kiss his girl of about 10--she is so fresh and innocent and pretty. Obtain also from the wife of the teacher a good old hafted "jade" ax, though she hesitates much to part with it--it used to belong to her grandmother; and from the teacher himself a number of interesting articles in old ivory. Leave Doctor Jenness. Have learned to like him much, both for his careful work and personally, in our short association; and at 11 a. m. return to the boat.

Cold, but calm and sunny. Sit on boxes at the very end of the good old _Bear_. See Asia, the two Diomedes, and Seward Peninsula, all in easy reach, all like so many features of a big lake. Pass around Greater Diomede.

There never could have been any large settlement on the Diomede Islands--they are not fit for it. The Great Diomede has just two mediocre sites, which are occupied now each by about half a dozen dwellings. A small old settlement, a few stone houses, has also once existed, I am told, on the elevated top of the larger island opposite the Little Diomede. On the latter only the one visited--everywhere else the steep slopes or walls come right down into the water, and there is even no landing possible (or only a precarious one at best) except where we landed. The old natives of the Little Diomede are said to have believed that another village had once existed farther out from the present site and that it has become submerged. The evidence cited (told by the native teacher) is not conclusive, and no indication of such a settlement could be seen from the beach. But in front and possibly beneath the native houses, in the old refuse, there may be remnants of older dwellings.

Just passed from Monday to Tuesday, and then back to Monday, all in a few hours--the day boundary. We are now just north of the Bering Strait and see all beautifully, in moderate bluish haze.

A grand panorama of utmost anthropological interest. A big lake, scene of one of the main migrational episodes of mankind. Sea just wrinkling some, day calm, mostly sunny, mildly pleasant, with an undertone of cold.

How trivial feel here the contentions about the possibilities of Asiatic migrations into America. There can be no such problem with those who have seen what we now are witnessing. Here is a great open pond which on such days as this could be traversed by anyone having as much as a decent canoe. As a matter of fact it has always been and is still thus traversed. (Pl. 6, _a_.) The Chukchee carried on a large trade with America, so much so that we find the Russians complaining of their interfering with their trade. (Pl. 6, _b_, _c_.) The Diomede people stand in connection on one hand with the northeastern Asiatics and on the other hand with the whites as far as Nome, where most of them go every summer to sell their ivory and its products and bring back all sorts of provisions. And in the same way the King Islanders come every summer to Nome, on the east end of which, as the Diomedes on the west, they have their summer habitations. (Pl. 7, _a_, _b_.) Only a year or two ago, the natives tell, an Eskimo woman of St. Lawrence Island set out alone in a canoe with her child to visit a cousin on the Asiatic coast, 50 miles distant, and returned safe and sound after the visit was over.

_a_, Cape Prince of Wales from the southeast. (A.H., 1926)

_b_, Village and cemetery slope, Little Diomede. (A.H., 1926)]

_a_, Asiatics departing for Siberia from the Little Diomede Island. (Photo by D. Jenness, 1926)

_b_, "Chukchis" loading their boat with goods on Little Diomede Island, before departure for Siberia. (Photo by D. Jenness, 1926)

_c_, "Chukchis" loading their boat with goods on Little Diomede Island, before departure for Siberia. (Photo by D. Jenness, 1926)]

_a_, Eskimos from East Cape arriving at Nome, Alaska

_b_, East Cape of Asia (to the southward). (Photo by Joe Bernard)]

A GROUP OF WOMEN AT SHISHMAREF

(Taken at 2 a. m. by A. H., 1926.)]

To bed dressed--the captain tells me we shall soon be at Shishmaref, on the north shore of the Seward Peninsula, and that he will have me called, if I want to visit the village.

Awake 11.30 p. m. At 11.45 word comes that we have arrived and a boat is getting ready. On deck in five minutes. Of course it is still light--there is no real night any more in these regions.

Have a cinnamon roll--the night specialty for the crew on the _Bear_--and a bowl of coffee. The natives, two boats full, already coming, and a fine full-blooded lot they show themselves to be. They are accompanied by Mr. Wegner, a big, pleasant young teacher.

Leave natives trading and set off in ship's boat. The _Bear_ is anchored about 1⅓ miles off. Fortunately fairly quiet or we should not be able to go ashore. Teacher and a young English-speaking native go with us. We have the launch and the skin whaleboat. Anchor first off shallow beach and transfer into the skin boat for the landing.

Tuesday, July 27. It is about 12.30 a. m. Many native women, youngsters, and some men gather about us at the school. Talk to them--explain what I want, which is mainly skulls and bones--all quite agreed. Take two young natives, some bags, and proceed to where they lead me.

Find, about half a mile from the present village, a big and important old site, which existed up to the white man's time. But dunes on which burials were made and house sites have been largely graded by a fox-farm keeper and trader, Mr. Goshaw. He had gathered many skulls--shows me a photo of two rows, at least 40--will not tell what he did with them. Says he sent "many things to the Smithsonian," but can give no details, "and to the universities," but will not mention which. Also "buried a lot." Bad business.

Gathering what is possible from the débris thrown out by the Eskimo working for the fox farm, we proceed rapidly from mound (dune) to mound. Find burials still on the surface in situ--i. e., nearly buried by the rising carpet of the vegetation--but skulls gone. Many of those on remaining heaps imperfect, but at least something can be saved. Collect all that is worth collecting. See Mr. Goshaw--get but little out of him. Donates a few archeological specimens of no great value--has no more.

We hurry on to the other village and burial ground, almost a mile west of the present settlement. Find only a small pile of bones, with one whole male skeleton of fairly recent date.

Then back, as fast as possible, the Indians carrying the bags with bones, and load on boat. My shoes and feet have long since become thoroughly wet, after which Mr. Wegner loaned me wool socks and native shoes that protected my feet. But now these must be left behind and I have to get into my wet, cold shoes--socks too wet. Officers in a hurry to get back. It is now 3.00 a. m.; the sun rose about 1.30. Pay my men, change shoes, photograph women (pl. 8) and then men--all pleasant and willing. See a few poor articles of archeological nature--not worth getting; and after a hearty handshake with the teacher we take off through the somewhat rougher water to the whaleboat, then on to the motor boat and the ship. Arrive with six bags of specimens, reaching boat just a little after 4. Sleepy captain meets us, but luckily shows no grudge, though this stop and his loss of sleep were essentially for me. Though it would seem they could have readily waited for our going ashore until morning, or have given me a little more time at the Diomedes, which would have brought us here later. Am too much awake now and worked up to sleep. Lie down a while but fully awake. Total sleep last night 2½ hours. But it was worth it, except for the vandalism.

Pack--inadequate boxes--until 3.30 p. m. Whole collection made last night put in order. But back and knees stiff. Weather two-thirds fair (my own estimate), some wind, sea choppy. Lie down but can not sleep.

At 5.30 off Kotzebue. Due to shallowness of water must anchor far out of sight. At 6 go to land in ship's larger launch. Waves rather bad, much tossing about and spray, have to get behind the canvas canopy that is raised over one seat. It is 15 miles from where the _Bear_ is anchored to the Kotzebue village--over two hours of (at times) rather violent tossing up and down and sidewise. Run for a part of the time not far from beach--a number of isolated, orderly fish camps--lots of fish drying. Wonder at not getting seasick again--it must be the open air or difference of movement.