Or, if it should be decided that this was the meaning of the treaty, they maintained that the width of the _lisiere_ was to be measured from the line of the general direction of the mainland coast, and not from the heads of the many inlets.

They claimed, also, that the broad and beautiful "Portland's Ca.n.a.l" of Vancouver and the "Portland Channel" of the Convention of 1825, were the Pea.r.s.e Channel or Inlet of more recent times. This contention, if sustained, would give them our Wales and Pea.r.s.e islands.

It was early suspected, however, that this claim was only made that they might have something to yield when, as they hoped, their later claim to Pyramid Harbor and the valley of the Chilkaht River should be made and upheld. This would give them a clear route into the Klondike territory.

In 1898 a Joint High Commission was appointed for the consideration of Pelagic Fur Sealing, Commercial Reciprocity, and the Alaska Boundary.

The Commission met in Quebec. The discussion upon the boundary continued for several months, the members being unable to agree upon the meaning of the wording of the treaty of 1825.

The British and Canadian members, thereupon, unblushingly proposed that the United States should cede to Canada Pyramid Harbor and a strip of land through the entire width of the _lisiere_.

To Americans who know that part of our country, this proposal came as a shock. Pyramid Harbor is the best harbor in that vicinity; and its cession, accompanied by a highway through the _lisiere_ to British possessions, would have given Canada the most desirable route at that time to the Yukon and the Klondike--the rivers upon which the eyes of all nations were at that time set. Many routes into that rich and picturesque region had been tested, but no other had proved so satisfactory.

It has since developed that the Skaguay route is the real prize. Had Canada foreseen this, she would not have hesitated to demand it.

From the disagreement of the Joint High Commission of 1898 arose the modus vivendi of the following year. There has been a very general opinion that the temporary boundary points around the heads of the inlets at the northern end of Lynn Ca.n.a.l, laid down in that year, were fixed for all time--although it seems impossible that this opinion could be held by any one knowing the definition of the term "modus vivendi."

By the modus vivendi Canada was given temporary possession of valuable Chilkaht territory, and her new maps were made accordingly.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau

Courtesy of Webster & Stevens, Seattle

ROAD THROUGH CUT-OFF CANYON]

In 1903 a tribunal composed of three American members and three representing Great Britain, two of whom were Canadians, met in Great Britain, to settle certain questions relating to the _lisiere_.

The seven large volumes covering the arguments and decisions of this tribunal, as published by the United States government, make intensely interesting and valuable reading to one who cares for Alaska.

The majority of the tribunal, that is to say, Lord Alverstone and the three members from the United States, decided that the Canadians have no rights to the waters of any of the inlets, and that it was the meaning of the Convention of 1825 that the _lisiere_ should for all time separate the British possessions from the bays, ports, inlets, and waters of the ocean north of British Columbia; and that, furthermore, the width of the _lisiere_ was not to be measured from the line of the general direction of the mainland coast, leaping the bays and inlets, but from a line running around the heads of such indentations.

The tribunal, however, awarded Pea.r.s.e and Wales islands, which belonged to us, to Canada; it also narrowed the _lisiere_ in several important points, notably on the Stikine and Taku rivers.

The fifth question, however, was the vital one; and it was answered in our favor, the two Canadian members dissenting. The boundary lines have now been changed on both United States and Canadian maps, in conformity with the decisions of the tribunal.

Blaine, Bancroft, and Davidson have made the clearest statements of the boundary troubles.

CHAPTER IV

The first landing made by United States boats after leaving Seattle is at Ketchikan. This is a comparatively new town. It is seven hundred miles from Seattle, and is reached early on the third morning out. It is the first town in Alaska, and glistens white and new on its gentle hills soon after crossing the boundary line in Dixon Entrance--which is always saluted by the lifting of hats and the waving of handkerchiefs on the part of patriotic Americans.

Ketchikan has a population of fifteen hundred people. It is the distributing point for the mines and fisheries of this section of southeastern Alaska. It is the present port of entry, and the Customs Office adds to the dignity of the town. There is a good court-house, a saw-mill with a capacity of twenty-five thousand feet daily, a shingle mill, salmon canneries, machine shops, a good water system, a cold storage plant, two excellent hotels, good schools and churches, a progressive newspaper, several large wharves, modern and well-stocked stores and shops, and a sufficient number of saloons. The town is lighted by electricity and many of the buildings are heated by steam. A creditable chamber of commerce is maintained.

There are seven salmon canneries in operation which are tributary to Ketchikan. The most important one "mild-cures" fish for the German market.

Among the "shipping" mines, which are within a radius of fifty miles, and which receive mails and supplies from Ketchikan, are the Mount Andrews, the Stevenston, the Mamies, the Russian Brown, the Hydah, the Niblack, and the Sulzer. From fifteen to twenty prospects are under development.

There are smelters in operation at Hadley and Copper Mountain, on Prince of Wales Island. From Ketchikan to all points in the mining and fishing districts safe and commodious steamers are regularly operated. The chief mining industries are silver, copper, and gold.

The residences are for the most part small, but, climbing by green terraces over the hill and surrounded by flowers and neat lawns, they impart an air of picturesqueness to the town. There are several totem-poles; the handsomest was erected to the memory of Chief "Captain John," by his nephew, at the entrance to the house now occupied by the latter. The nephew a.s.serts that he paid $2060 for the carving and making of the totem. Owing to its freshly painted and gaudy appearance, it is as lacking in interest as the one which stands in Pioneer Square, Seattle, and which was raped from a northern Indian village.

Four times had I landed at Ketchikan on my way to far beautiful places; with many people had I talked concerning the place; folders of steamship companies and pamphlets of boards of trade had I read; yet never from any person nor from any printed page had I received the faintest glimmer that this busy, commercially described northwestern town held, almost in its heart, one of the enduring and priceless jewels of Alaska. To the beauty-loving, Norwegian captain of the steamship _Jefferson_ was I at last indebted for one of the real delights of my life.

It was near the middle of a July night, and raining heavily, when the captain said to us:--

"Be ready on the stroke of seven in the morning, and I'll show you one of the beautiful things of Alaska."

"But--at Ketchikan, captain!"

"Yes, at Ketchikan."

I thought of all the vaunted attractions of Ketchikan which had ever been brought to my observation; and I felt that at seven o'clock in the morning, in a pouring rain, I could live without every one of them.

Then--the charm of a warm berth in a gray hour, the cup of hot coffee, the last dream to the drowsy throb of the steamer--

"It will be raining, captain," one said, feebly.

The look of disgust that went across his expressive face!

"What if it is! You won't know it's raining as soon as you get your eyes filled with what I want to show you. But if you're one of _that_ kind--"

He made a gesture of dismissal with his hands, palms outward, and turned away.

"Captain, I shall be ready at seven. I'm not one of that kind," we all cried together.

"All right; but I won't wait five minutes. There'll be two hundred pa.s.sengers waiting to go."

[Ill.u.s.tration: Copyright by E. A. Hegg, Juneau

SCENE ON THE WHITE Pa.s.s]

"You know that letter that Thomas Bailey Aldrich wrote to Professor Morse," spoke up a lady from Boston, who had overheard. "You know Professor Morse wrote a hand that couldn't be deciphered, and among other things, Mr. Aldrich wrote: 'There's a singular and perpetual charm in a letter of yours; it never grows old; it never loses its novelty.

One can say to one's self every day: "There's that letter of Morse's. I have not read it yet. I think I shall take another shy at it." Other letters are read and thrown away and forgotten; but yours are kept forever--unread!' Now, that letter, somehow, in the vaguest kind of way, suggests itself when one considers this getting up anywhere from three to six in the morning to see things in Alaska. There's _always_ something to be seen during these unearthly hours. Every night we are convinced that we will be on deck early, to see something, and we leave an order to be wakened; but when the dreaded knocking comes upon the door, and a hoa.r.s.e voice announces 'Wrangell Narrows,' or 'Lama Pa.s.s,'

our berths suddenly take on curves and attractions they possess at no other time. The side-rails into which we have been b.u.mping seem to be cushioned with down, the s.p.a.ce between berths to grow wider, the air in the room sweeter and more drowsily delicious. We say, 'Oh, we'll get up to-morrow morning and see something,' and we pull the berth-curtain down past our faces and go to sleep. After a while, it grows to be one of the perpetual charms of a trip to Alaska--this always going to get up in the morning and this never getting up. It never grows old; it never loses its novelty. One can say to one's self every morning: 'There's that little matter to decide now about getting up. Shall I, or shall I not?'

I have been to Alaska three times, but I've never seen Ketchikan. Other places are seen and admired and forgotten; but it remains forever--unseen.... Now, I'll go and give an order to be called at half-past six, to see this wonderful thing at Ketchikan!"

I looked around for her as I went down the slushy deck the next morning on the stroke of seven; but she was not in sight. It was raining heavily and steadily--a cold, thick rain; the wind was so strong and so changeful that an umbrella could scarcely be held.

Alas for the captain! Out of his boasted two hundred pa.s.sengers, there came forth, dripping and suspicious-eyed, openly scenting a joke, only four women and one man. But the captain was undaunted. He would listen to no remonstrances.

"Come on, now," he cried, cheerfully, leading the way. "You told me you came to Alaska to see things, and as long as you travel with me, you are going to see all that is worth seeing. Let the others sleep. Anybody can sleep. You can sleep at home; but you can't see what I am going to show you now anywhere but in Alaska. Do you suppose I would get up at this hour and waste my time on you, if I didn't know you'd thank me for it all the rest of your life?"

So on and on we went; up one street and down another; around sharp corners; past totem-poles, saloons, stylish shops, windows piled with Indian baskets and carvings; up steps and down terraces; along gravelled roads; and at last, across a little bridge, around a wooded curve,--and then--

Something met us face to face. I shall always believe that it was the very spirit of the woods that went past us, laughing and saluting, suddenly startled from her morning bath in the clear, amber-brown stream that came foaming musically down over smooth stones from the mountains.