As they drew away from the Queen, he asked: 'What's going to happen?' and Bigears said: 'I think she go down,' and Tom asked: 'Will those two bigger ships be able to rescue them?' and Sam said: 'They got any sense, they leave now,' and in the darkness Tom saw with horror that the two larger boats were indeed running for shelter, because their captains knew that a gale strong enough to drive them onto the rocks had to strike the Walrus before long.
In her cabin, with the wind roaring and the ship' listing at a more severe angle, Mrs. Ross wrote a final note, which, water stained, would be delivered to her daughter some weeks later:
I am sure, Lydia, that your grandmother must have known moments like this when all seemed lost. Remember the harsh accusations that were made against her and other brave young women. They survived and so shall I. But the wind does grow stronger and we await the dawn in a kind of dumb terror. It is so sad. I can't hold back my tears, because this was all so unnecessary. Your father and I would have solved this problem in three minutes, and I beg you to develop the same kind of character and willingness to assume responsibility, for they are great virtues, maybe the greatest.
I love you. Tonight my hopes must transfer to you.
When dawn broke on Friday morning, with all the rescue ships scattered but watching in horror as the gale increased, raking and churning the water as it swept down the inlet, Tom and Bigears moved out from their sanctuary and, braving the furious chopping swell, tried to approach the foundering Queen.
But when the light was strong enough for them to see the ship listing perilously to port, the wind became so powerful that Tom cried: 'Turn back!' but Bigears shouted:
'We got to get Mrs. Ross!' and he kept their small boat plowing through great swells.
Then suddenly a combination of intense gusting wind and pounding waves much higher than before rocked the Montreal Queen loose and turned her over on her gaping side.
Within minutes the beautiful ship disappeared in the dark waters of the inlet, and because of the tremendous sucking action it generated, not a single passenger of the 309 survived. To prevent a financial loss of two thousand dollars, everyone aboard the Montreal Queen, including the crew, perished.
TOM AND BIGEARS STOOD BY THE SITE OF THE SINKING, hoping along with some dozen other small craft to save at least a few of the passengers, but it soon became obvious that there would not be anyone to rescue. Indeed, the capsizing had come with such a sudden rush that there were hardly any stray bits of wreckage to mark where the ship had been. So at about three in the afternoon, just as Tom was about to start back to Totem, Sam Bigears shouted: 'Look!' and Tom turned and saw the stately Ontario Queen, steaming up an hour early.
At the cannery, Tom was unable to tell the waiting women what had happened. Instead, Bigears climbed onto the dock, walked slowly toward the crowd that had gathered, and embraced Lydia Ross: 'Everyone go down. Everyone. Tom has letter.'
By the time Tom approached the crowd Lydia had herself under control, but when she saw this gallant fellow whom she had once treated so poorly, she ran to him, collapsing in tears and throwing herself into his arms.
Her father, when he met her on her return to Seattle, suspected rightly that she was being overly emotional when she announced that she was marrying Tom Venn, and he begged her to wait until she saw things more clearly, but she said: 'I did see things very clearly during that visit. If Mother had lived, she would have told you that I stayed behind because I did not want Tom to marry that Nancy Bigears, wonderful as you'll find her to be. I wanted him, and I wanted him for the best reason in the world. I love him.' Later she added: 'I saw him in the storm. He performed the way you would have, Father,' and Mr. Ross said: 'Most men behave courageously in a storm,' but she corrected him: 'Captain Binneford didn't.'
Her father did prevail upon her not to marry immediately: 'I don't give a damn for appearances, as you well know. But there is meaning to that old phrase a decent interval,' and she said: 'October tenth will be decent. Tom and I have things to do.'
Nancy Bigears, now a student at the university, attended the wedding, and although there was uneasiness between her and Lydia, there was none with Tom. She still loved him, and both Lydia and Tom knew this, and in return they loved her, for she was the first of the Tlingit women to test her luck in the white man's world and they wished her well. When she asked where they would be spending their honeymoon, Lydia said: 'At Ketchikan Cannery. Tom has work to do,' and Nancy kissed them both.
WHEN NERKA THE SALMON LEAPED OVER TOM VENN'S right-hand jigger in order to return to the Pleiades River, he faced the reverse of the problem which had threatened him three years earlier. Now, as a fish acclimated to life in salt water, he must relearn how to live in fresh, and this sharp alteration required two days of slow swimming hi the new medium. But gradually he adjusted, and now the excess fat which he had acquired in his hump during his burst of prodigious eating became an asset, keeping him alive and strong enough to ascend the waterfalls of the river, for as we have seen, once he entered fresh water he would never again feed, his entire digestive system having atrophied to the point of nonfunction.
He had nine miles of upstream swimming to negotiate before he reached the lake, and this was a task immeasurably more difficult than swimming down had been, for not only did he have to leap over major obstacles, but he also had to protect himself from the large number of bears that lined the river, knowing that the fat salmon were coming.
At the first rapids he proved his ability, for he swam directly up the middle, breasting the full power of the stream and propelling himself forward with forceful strokes of his tail, but it was when he reached the first waterfall, about eight feet high, that he demonstrated his unusual skill, for after hoarding his strength at the bottom, he suddenly darted at the falling plume of water, lifted himself in the air, and leaped the full eight feet, vibrating his tail furiously. With an effort not often matched in the animal kingdom, he overcame that considerable obstacle.
His outstanding performance came with the third waterfall, not a vertical drop but a long, sliding affair of rapidly rushing, turbulent water some eighteen feet long and with such a sharp drop that it looked as if no fish could master it, and certainly not in a single bound.
Here Nerka used another tactic. He made a furious dash right at the heart of the oncoming flow, and within the waterfall itself he swam and leaped and scrambled until he found a precarious lodging halfway up. There he rested for some moments, gathering energy for the greater trial to come.
Trapped in the middle of the fall, he obviously could not build up forward motion, but rising almost vertically, with his tail thrashing madly, he could resume his attack. Once more he swam, not leaped, right up the heart of the fall, and after a prodigious effort he broke free to reach calm water, in which he rested for a long time.
The most perilous part of his homeward journey, insofar as external agencies were concerned, now loomed, for in his exhausted state he failed to practice the cautions which had kept him alive for six years, and in his drifting he came within range of a group of bears that had gathered at this spot because they had learned, centuries ago, that after the homecoming salmon finished battling that waterfall, they would for some time flop aimlessly about and become easy prey.
One large bear had waded some feet into the river, where it found success in scooping up exhausted salmon and tossing them back onto the bank, where others leaped upon them, tearing their flesh. This bear, spotting Nerka as the most promising salmon of this morning's run, leaned forward like an ardent angler, sent its right paw flashing through the water, caught Nerka full under the belly, and with a mighty swipe tossed him far behind it, like an angler landing a prize trout.
As Nerka flew through the air he was aware of two things: the bear's claws had ripped his right flank, but not fatally, and the direction in which he was flying contained some areas which looked like water. So as soon as he landed with a hard thump on dry land, with two large bears leaping forward to
kill him, he gave a series of wild gyrations, summoning all the power his tail, fins and body muscles could provide.
As the bears reached out with their powerful claws, he wriggled and flopped like a drunken fly trying to land on unsteady legs, and just as the bears were about to grab him, he leaped at one of the shimmering areas. It was a sluggish arm of the river, and he was saved.
Now, as he neared the lake, the unique signal composed of mineral traces, the position of the sun, perhaps the gyration of the earth and maybe the operation of some peculiar electrical force, became overwhelming. For more than two thousand miles he had attended to this signal, and now it throbbed throughout his aging body: This is Lake Pleiades.
This is home.
He reached the lake on 23 September 1906, and when he entered the jewel like body of water with its protecting mountains, he found his way to that small feeder stream with its particular aggregation of gravel in which he had been born six years earlier, and now for the first time in his exciting life he began to look about him not for just another salmon but for a female, and when other males swam by he recognized them as enemies and drove them off. The culminating experience of his life was about to begin, but only he and two others of his original four thousand had made it back to their home waters. All the rest had perished amid the dangers imposed by the incredible cycle of the salmon.
Mysteriously, out of a dark overhang which produced the deep shadows loved by sockeye, she came, a mature female who had shared the dangers he had known, who had in her own way avoided the jiggers reaching out to trap her and who had ascended the waterfalls with her own skills and tricks. She was his equal in every way except for the fierce prognathous lower jaw that he had developed, and she, too, was ready for the final act.
Moving quietly beside him as if to say 'I shall look to you for protection,' she began waving her tail and fins gently, brushing away silt that had fallen upon the gravel she intended using. In time, employing only these motions, she dug herself a redd, or nest, about six inches deep and twice her length, which was now more than two feet. When the redd was prepared, she tested it again to ensure that the steady stream of life-giving cold water was still welling up from the hidden river, and when she felt its reassuring presence, she was ready.
Now the slow, dreamlike courtship dance began, with Nerka nudging closer and closer, rubbing his fins against hers, swimming a slight distance away, then rushing back.
Other males, aware of her presence, hurried up, but whenever one appeared, Nerka drove him off, and the lyrical dance continued.
Then a startling change occurred: both salmon opened their mouths as wide as their jaw sockets would allow, forming large cavernous passageways for the entrance of fresh water. It was as if they wished to purify themselves, to wash away old habits in preparation for what was about to happen, and when this ritual was completed they experienced wild and furious surges of courtship emotions, twisting together, snapping their jaws and quivering their tails. When their marine ballet ended, with their mouths once more agape, the female released some four thousand eggs, and at that precise instant Nerka ejected his milt, or sperm, over the entire area. Fertilization would occur by chance, but the incredible flood of milt made it probable that each egg would receive its sperm and that Nerka and his mate would have done their part in perpetuating their species.
Their destiny having been fulfilled, their mysterious travels were over, and an incredible climax to their lives awaited. Since they had eaten nothing since leaving the ocean, not even a minnow, they were so exhausted by their travel up Taku Inlet, their battle with traps, their swim upstream against waterfalls, that they retained not a shred of vital force. Will power consumed by these tremendous exertions, they began to drift aimlessly, and wayward currents eased them along a nepenthe like course to the spot where the lake emptied into the river.
When they entered the lively swirls of that stream they were momentarily revived, and fluttered their tails in the customary way, but they were so weak that nothing happened, and the current dragged them passively to where the falls and the rapids began.
As they reached the fatal spot at the head of the long falls, where bears waited, Nerka summoned enough energy to swim clear, but his mate, near death, could not, and one of the biggest animals reached in, caught her in its powerful claws, and threw her ashore, where other bears leaped at her. In a brief moment she was gone.
Had Nerka been in possession of his faculties, he would never have allowed the long waterfall to grasp him and smash him willy-nilly down its most precipitous drops and onto its most dangerous rocks, but that is what happened, and the last shuddering drop was so destructive that he felt the final shreds of life being knocked out of him. Vainly he tried to regain control of his destiny, but the relentless water kept knocking him abusively from rock to rock, and the last he saw of the earth and its waters of which he had been such a joyous part was a great spume into which he was sucked against his will and the massive rock which lurked therein. With a sickening smash, he was no more.
He had returned to Lake Pleiades system on 21 September 1906. He had fathered the next generation of sockeye on the twenty-fifth, and now on the last day of the month he was dead. He had lived five years, six months and had discharged all obligations courageously and as nature had programmed.
For three miles his dead body drifted downstream, until waves washed it to sanctuary in a backwater where ravens, familiar with the habits of the river, waited. He reached their domain about four in the afternoon of an increasingly cold day when food was essential, and by nightfall only his bones were left.
Of the one hundred million sockeye born along with Nerka in 1901, only some fifty thousand managed to make it back, and since it is reasonable to assume that these were evenly divided between the sexes, this meant that some twenty-five thousand pairs were available for breeding. Since each female produced about four thousand eggs, a total of exactly one hundred million eggs would be available to ensure a generation born in 1907, and we have seen that this is the precise number required to maintain the lake's normal population. Any diminution in the number of survivors would imperil the chance for continuation.
If the jiggers were raised even higher next year, as planned, the number of breeding salmon able to avoid them would be further diminished, so that year by year the deficiency would worsen.
The greed of Tom Venn and his masters in Seattle had doomed the Lake Pleiades sockeye, one of the noblest members of the animal kingdom, to eventual extinction.
IN NOVEMBER WHEN THE THOMAS VENNS, AS THEY WERE now called, were in the process of closing down Ketchikan Cannery for the winter, after an excellent campaign, an officer from Ross & Raglan headquarters in Seattle stopped by with depressing news: 'Mr.
Ross asked me to tell you that Nancy Bigears, after only a few weeks at the university, boarded one of our ships and sailed back to Juneau. When asked why she had quit her education, she said: "Those classes held nothing for me."'
'What's she doing?' Tom and Lydia wanted to know, and to be sure he gave an accurate answer, the officer took from his pocket a paper which Mr. Ross had given him: 'Two weeks after arriving in Juneau, Nancy married a Chinese handyman named Ah Ting.'
XI - THE RAILBELT
In the summer of 1919, when Malcolm Ross, age sixty-seven, lay dying, he knew that he was leaving his prominent mercantile establishment, Ross & Raglan, in the most profitable condition it had ever known. In the three areas to which it restricted itself maritime service to Alaska; warehouses in Anchorage, Juneau and Fairbanks, with retail stores in most of the towns; the catching and canning of salmon it was preeminent. R&R represented the finest forward-looking leadership in Seattle, and commentators were not far wrong when they said: 'R&R is Alaska, and Alaska is R&R,' for the relationship was profitable to both partners. R&R received money, a great deal of it, and Alaska received the goods it needed and a reliable transportation service to what was called the Lower Forty-Eight. Since there were no roads fro
m Alaska to either industrial Canada or the United States, and no likelihood of any in the foreseeable future, any goods that Alaska needed had almost inevitably to reach the north in some R&R ship, and any travelers who wanted to leave Alaska for the south had to use that same route.
But Ross had for some time been aware of a potential weakness in his company's benevolent monopoly, and anxious to discuss the situation, he summoned his daughter Lydia to his bedside, asking her to bring along her husband, Tom Venn, who for more than a decade had supervised the company's chain of salmon canneries. When they stood beside him, and saw how frail he had become through overexertion during the closing months of the recent world war, they were alarmed, but he would allow no sentimentality:
'I'm not strong, as you can see, but my mind's as good as ever.'
'Take it easy, Father,' Lydia said. 'The men at the office have things under control.'
'I didn't call you here to talk about the office. I'm worried about the insecurity of our shipping lines to Alaska.'
'Traffic's impeccable,' Tom said, who at an energetic thirty-six had traveled the R&R ships more than any other officer. He knew the shipping line to be in first-class condition.
'For the present, yes. But I'm looking ahead, and I see danger.'
'From what?' Lydia asked, and after raising himself on one elbow, her father replied:
'Competition. Not from American companies, we have them in line and none of them can touch us. But from Canada, they're able traders. And from Japan, they're very able.'
'We have been seeing signs,' Venn conceded. 'We can hold them off, I'm sure, but what did you have in mind?'
'Cabotage,' the sick man said as he fell back. 'Do you know what it is?' When the young people shook their heads, he said: 'Find out!' and that launched their study of this arcane law of the sea and its coastal waters. The word came from the French caboter meaning to coast along, and through the centuries it had gained in diplomatic circles a specific application: the right to transport goods between two ports within the same country. As applied by mercantile nations, it meant that a Japanese ship built in Japan, owned in Japan, and manned by Japanese sailors was legally eligible to sail out of Yokohama laden with Japanese goods and sail to Seattle, where, if the proper duty was paid, the goods could be unloaded and sold in the United States. The ship could then pick up American goods and carry them back to Japan, or China or Russia.