To the Bright Edge of the World

Special Order No. 16

Headquarters Department of the Columbia

Vancouver Barracks, Washington Territory

January 7, 1885

By authority of the Lieutenant-General of the Army conveyed this day by telegram, Lieutenant-Colonel Allen Forrester is hereby authorized to lead a reconnaissance into Alaska traveling up the Wolverine River. Lieutenant Andrew Pruitt and Sergeant Bradley Tillman are ordered to report to Colonel Forrester with the purpose of accompanying his reconnaissance.

The objective is to map the interior of the Territory and document information regarding the native tribes in order to be prepared for any future serious disturbances between the United States government and the natives of the Territory. The reconnaissance will also attempt to ascertain whether and how a military force would be sustained in this region if necessary, including information about climate, severity of winter, and means of communication and types of weapons in possession of the natives. Information should be gathered and documented thoroughly along the reconnaissance in the event that the expedition must be abandoned.

Colonel Forrester is ordered to make full reports to headquarters, including itineraries, maps, and field observations, whenever possible. If needed, as many as five native scouts may be employed. The expedition party should aim to arrive at the mouth of the Wolverine River by the beginning of March so as to travel up the river by ice.

Because of the peculiar, unknown circumstances of such a reconnaissance, Colonel Forrester is left to his discretion regarding travels beyond the Wolverine River. At all times, the men will exercise care and strict economy of their stores. Ample provisions have been provided for the journey.

If the reconnaissance is successful, the party should arrive at the well-mapped Yukon River before winter, where the men might board a steamboat to the coast. Colonel Forrester will then arrange transportation of himself and his men aboard a revenue cutter.

USS Pinta

Lieut. Col. Allen Forrester

March 23, 1885

We remain tonight on Perkins Island, but at least we are gone from the village & the trader Jenson. We camp on the northern side of the island, directly across the sound from the Wolverine River. The journey so far drags against our will.

Jenson warned we would be unable to launch our boats into the waves. This only spurred our determination. We rose for our departure this morning to a dreary rain & rough seas. The trader was out of his bed earlier than I have ever seen him, only to stand watch over our efforts with much naysaying. We loaded the row boats in near dark & divided the men. Pruitt, the old man, two Eyaks & I to one boat—Samuelson, Tillman & the third young Eyak to the other. I ordered the three young Indians to give the final heave-ho & jump aboard last.

Too busy fighting the oars against the surf, I noticed nothing amiss until Tillman's bark.

—Hell! Do we go back for them?

I looked up. Through the gloom I could just make out the Indians at shore. The waves broke at their knees. They gave no expression. One held up a hand. I could not read it. Did they wave farewell, or were they left against their will? Did they intend to stay behind even as they nodded to my terms? Whatever the cause, I would not retrieve them. We had just managed to clear the surf. I cut my hand through the air, out into the sound.

—Onward, I said.

We set into the cold wet gray. Just two strong rowers to a boat. The old Eyak was of no use. We were undermanned from the start.

Daylight improved nothing. Waves chopped at the boat sides. Wind kicked up sea spray, drenched the supplies through canvas tarps. We traveled north along the coast of the island. A cluster of rocks rose before us. I called out to veer to open water. The old man spoke for the first time then, a throaty chortle that was meaningless to me. The trapper understood.

—He says keep close to shore through here.

—What you say?

The boats rose, teetered on the waves, & carried us towards the rocks.

—That's what he says. Keep close in.

I looked to where the old man perched in the bow. His vest flapped in the wind. His eyes were wild, & he grinned or grimaced, I could not tell.

—It's no good, Tillman hollered into the wind.

I had to agree. The waves would dash the row boats to bits against the rocks. But why bring the old man if not to guide us? He has known these bays & inlets all his long life. The Eyaks said he could get us to mainland.

Our boats threatened to turn sidelong to the swells. Waves broke over the gunwales.

—Do as he says, I called.—Head in.

I had no time to regret my order. The sea took us like driftwood & threw us to the rocks. We scraped our way past the outcroppings only to be swept up by whirlpools at the base of the island cliffs. The boats rotated, heaved, & creaked. Salt spray blinded us. I thought I heard the old Eyak cackle from the bow. Perhaps it was the gulls. What kind of mad man laughs as he drowns?

I cannot say how long we battled the sea & cliff face. Tillman stood at his stern, shoved his oar to the cliff to lever the boat. Even his considerable strength was no match for the sea. Pruitt howled as his hand was smashed between bow & rock. Samuelson let out a string of curses like none I have heard before.

When at last we freed ourselves from the roiling current, we pulled at the oars until our hearts would burst. We kept on until we rode even swells with no rocks in sight.

Tillman navigated his boat closer to ours. I thought he came to set our plan, but instead he threw down his oars, leapt across to our boat. Before I knew his intent, he grabbed the old man by the shirt front to jerk him to his feet.

—What the devil is the matter with you? Tillman yelled into the old Eyak's face.—You'd kill us all!

The old man did not blink. He should have feared for his life. Instead he grinned, his teeth worn nubs. He then spoke with his guttural clucks & hard stops.

—What does he say? Tillman turned to Samuelson.

The trapper hesitated, as if not sure to repeat it.

—He says he's been hungry for many days.

—What?

Samuelson shrugged.

—That's what he says. He's hungry.

Tillman shoved the old man.

—So he'd take us all to hell?

Tillman moved to throw him overboard. The old man squawked a kind of laugh or yelp. I was tempted to let him be sent to the sea, but thought better of it.

—Enough, Tillman. We'll be rid of him soon enough.

The sergeant hesitated. I thought he would disobey. My misgivings about his reputation were roused, but he shoved the old man back down into the boat.

We returned to rowing without talk or pause. Our progress was slow. Not until early afternoon did we round to the north side of Perkins Island.

—The old man says a storm is coming, Samuelson said.

Why should we believe him? None of us trusts the Eyak now.

—I don't know but maybe we should listen to him this time around, Samuelson said. We all followed his eyes towards the horizon where clouds were building.

—He says there is a safe landing just the other side of that point.

This time the old man did not deceive. A cold torrent chased us to shore. We built no fire but quickly raised the tent amongst the trees & climbed in wet, shivering, weary. The old Eyak remains outside, where to none of us knows or much cares. Rain slaps the canvas tent in a noisy pattering. We eat cold beef from tins, all of us crowded shoulder to shoulder.

I asked Samuelson why the young Indians stayed behind.

—Fear.

—Of the Midnooskies?

—No. The trader Jenson. He expects them to help with the otter pelts when the hunters come back.

—It is a notable amount of sway he holds over them, I observed.

—They aren't Jenson's slaves quite yet, but give him time, Samuelson said.—I have seen him yank an Indian child from his mother's hands in trade for furs the father didn't bring in.

—What would a white man want with an Indian child?

—Fear, the trapper said.

Diary of Sophie Forrester

Vancouver Barracks

January 6, 1885

Oh such amazing news! The General has granted permission so that I will accompany Allen and his men on the steamer north! For days now it has seemed increasingly unlikely, and I am certain it was only Allen's steady, persistent resolve that has won me passage. Of course, I go only as far as Sitka and will return to the barracks the end of February; I will not even set eyes on the northern mainland where their true adventure will begin, but I am thrilled all the same. Allen, too, is pleased. He charged into the sitting room this afternoon and announced, "You'll go, my love! Haywood said you'll go!"

Now there is much for me to do. Until today, I followed Mother's advice and did not "count my chickens before they hatched," but consequently I have made no preparations. We expect to board within the month. What should I bring? An abundance of warm clothes. Definitely my walking boots, for I am told the deck is often treacherous with ice and sea spray. My field glasses and notebooks of course, with plenty of spare pencils.

There is this, too—a new diary. I resisted when Allen first gave it to me and said my field notebooks suit me fine. His playful reply was that when he returns from Alaska, he would like to hear about more than the habits of nuthatches and chickadees.

I could not then imagine that my days would hold anything of interest: the long train journey to Vermont, the return to my childhood home. Maybe if I were allowed to walk as far as the quarry pond to watch for the pintails and grebes, or to go to the forest in search of Father's sculptures (how I would love for Allen to see them someday, especially the sea serpent and the old bear), maybe then I would have something to record. Yet I will never be permitted such wanderings. "Shame is the only fruit of idleness." How many times did I hear those words as a little girl? Mother is always at the washboard and rags, the rake and the weeds, and she will expect the same of me. Who would want to hear such a diary read aloud?

But now! Now I will have something to write in these pages, for I am going to Alaska!

January 8

I cannot help but be caught up in the excitement. Supplies arrive daily from various parts of the country—tents, sleeping bags, snowshoes, nearly one thousand rations for the men! I do not know how Allen keeps it all in order. This morning, just as he was about to kiss me goodbye at the door, he said, "Yes, Pruitt will be out with the camera, but Tillman can sort the rifles and ammunition. That way I can get to the telegraph office." He must get word to Sitka, by British Columbia and then mail steamer, that he will need several sledges built and ready when we arrive.

And then, during my afternoon walk, I happened across Mr Pruitt with his camera near the stable. Allen says the Lieutenant has only recently learned photography in order to document their expedition, so he is practicing as much as he is able. Today, the blacksmith was his reluctant subject.

They made an amusing scene, Mr Pruitt so studious and fair-skinned, with his red hair trimmed boyishly; the grimed smith, in leather apron and rolled up sleeves, looking particularly unhappy with having to stand for his picture to be taken. Mr Pruitt peered out from the black cloth and quietly asked the blacksmith to turn his shoulder this way and his chin that, to which the smith obeyed with considerable grumbling.

More than anything, I wanted to ask Mr Pruitt how the camera works, how it can be taken afield, and to even see some of his images, but I thought better than to interrupt him.

Such an extraordinary notion, to be able to seal light and shadow to the page in such a way. I often think of the photographs Allen and I saw in a Boston studio—the old woman with her pipe, a little boy riding a giant dog, and a whimsical scene of actors dressed in animal masks. Startlingly vivid, each of them, so that there was a silvery texture to the fabric and skin, and a quality of light that seemed truly magical, as if life glowed from within the paper itself.

I envy Mr Pruitt that he will document the Far North with such a device! (Alas, I will bring on board only my notebooks and poor drawing skills. It seems a curse, that one should love the work of a naturalist yet be so ill-suited for it.)

January 9

I did not expect to be the cause of such a stir. One would think I was to leave on a polar expedition. During tea this afternoon at Mrs Connor's house, the officers' wives reacted with everything from alarm to squealing delight to know that I will go as far as Sitka with Allen and his men.

Where in heaven's name will you sleep? You must bring extra quilts so you won't freeze in the night! What about the polar bears? They are man-eaters! (I explained to Mrs Bailey that to my knowledge the white bears live much farther north than I will venture, so I will not be in their danger.) The food on board will be dreadful, mark my words. And the seasickness you'll endure! Best pack a tin of good biscuits for yourself.

I should have predicted Miss Evelyn's response. "At least one nice gown. You must have that. You never know when there might be some fine occasion—don't make that face at me Mrs Forrester, you could end up having dinner at the governor's house in Sitka—and it's appalling to be underdressed."

Sarah Whithers was the only one who offered sound advice.

"Do you have a good Mackintosh, to keep off the rain and snow?" And the dear, timid woman said I could have hers, as she had recently been given a new one; I thanked her but told her I had a raincoat, and that I would certainly remember to pack it in my trunk.

And then there was blustery Mrs Connor. "Never mind all this nonsense! Why on earth are you going?"

I apologized but said I did not take her meaning.

"Surely your husband can't make you go," she said.

Not go! I explained that it was my very desire to go, and that if permitted, I would accompany Allen the entire distance across Alaska.

"Absurd. There is no need for a bright young woman such as yourself to join in such idiocy. Leave it to the men to throw themselves off the face of the earth. They are quite adept at it by themselves."

What could I say in my defense?

"But isn't it romantic?" Mrs Whithers interjected. "Imagine a husband so distraught to be separated from you, that he brings you with him!"