A Claim on Klondyke Part 29

As I uttered them a hand was laid softly on my arm. I turned round hastily, and there my darling stood, gazing at me steadily, with tear-filled eyes. "Bertie!" she exclaimed, "Bertie, what do you mean?

What ails you? Are you unwell? Are you in some new grief? What do you mean by crying out 'and no May there'? Tell me, my friend, my very dear friend, what is amiss, what you mean?"

I was speechless for a little while. What could I say? I only stared at her distraught, I was overwhelmed with emotion, and I could not prevent my looks showing what I felt. "Oh! May, May!" I murmured at last, "do you not understand? Do you not comprehend the misery that I am suffering?"

She was silent. She leant on the rail beside me, fixing her gaze upon the crimson glow beyond the mountain range. She was perfectly still and speechless.

My agitation was very great--she and I were at last alone. I knew that the time had come when I must speak out. It was, I felt, now or never, yet my tongue refused to form a sentence; the thoughts that were whirling through my brain refused to be turned to words. For several minutes we two looked straight before us, seeing nothing, and were dumb.

But in course of time I was able to speak; it was slowly and in broken sentences. "May," I began, "my dear friend May--my dearest friend--you are going home--shortly we must part. I am broken-hearted about it.

You were such sweet company to me up in that fearful north; we have been through such awful scenes together. To me, though, they were the happiest times that I have ever known, or ever expect to know. I would willingly go back there, and end my days there, if you could be with me; but that being impossible, I have really, and truly, and seriously thought of late that it would be better for me to go back there alone, for I believe I should be happier in the scenes where you and I have dwelt together, where the memory of your dear presence will for ever cling, than at home in England separated from you." Then I was silent again.

Shortly after this outburst May asked me why we must be separated; why, if her companionship was so necessary to my happiness, I could not have it easier and better in England than in Alaska?

What was I to reply to this? I muttered something, and she went on--"Have we not laid our plans and schemes for our future lives? Are we not going to carry them out? We are well off now as regards money.

We believe we can do all we wish, thank G.o.d. What, then, is troubling you? Why this sadness, this unhappiness? Why do you speak of parting company and ending it all, and adding a greater--yes, I will admit it, a greater grief to me than any I have to bear, by talking thus of putting an end to the life together which we have contemplated with so much delight?"

"Why--why do I do this, May?" I cried excitedly. "Why? because I love you--love you. Do you understand why, now? Don't you know that you are all the world to me, and more? Don't you comprehend that the entire future is dark and dreadful to me, because I love you, yearn for you, and have no hope of winning your dear love in return? That is the reason, May. Now you know this secret of my heart."

Again my dearest was speechless for some time: I saw the tears dropping, dropping from her sweet eyes; fain would I have clasped her to my heart and dried them, but I dared not.

"Bertie," she said then, softly. "Yes; now I know your secret. But why? oh, why are you so sure that you cannot win my love?"

I glanced at her bewildered. She turned to me, and I saw in her dear eyes a look I cannot describe, but I understood it. I was overcome with the joy of it, enchanted at the knowledge that suddenly flashed through my intelligence. I did not, could not, stop to a.n.a.lyse, but I knew she loved me. I knew that all my fears were follies, and that all my greatest desires, my fondest hopes, were granted, and that May was mine!

What I said or did then I have no clear recollection; only this, that I seized my beloved's hands and drew her to me as she laid her head confidingly on my shoulder and whispered softly in my ear, "Dearest, don't you know I love you?"

We remained on deck together for a long while. For my part I was in the seventh heaven of delight and thankfulness. I could not find words to make my darling understand how great my joy was. I could but kiss her and draw her to my heart, whilst she murmured again and again to me the joyful words, "Bertie, my dearest, best of friends, I love you."

We parted only when the sun was about to rise above the north-eastern ranges. I went below, a gloriously happy man. I went to my berth rejoicing that never-to-be-forgotten morning on the Lower Yukon in Alaska.

To our fellow-pa.s.sengers we believed that there could be no apparent change in us when we all met; but to me and to May how different all things seemed to be. When I glanced at her across the breakfast table, and saw the love-light in her eyes, I knew that she was, as I was, filled with gladness unspeakable.

We hardly had three words together that morning, she was with Mrs Parker all the time; the whole forenoon she kept away from me. I hung around, smoked my pipe persistently, hoping every moment that she would join me--my face, I'm sure, showing my discontent.

She came at last, saying, "Don't you understand, my love, that we cannot be exhibiting to all these people what we are to each other? We must not expose ourselves to their remarks. Be patient; my thoughts are always with you."

"But why need you be with Mrs Parker always?" I enquired. "Surely no one will be scandalised if you and I walk the deck together, or sit beside each other. We used to do so three days ago; why cannot we do so now?"

"True," answered my sweetheart with a loving smile; "but we were not so self-conscious then. We know now what we are to one another; let us be patient."

Of course I was so full of rapture, so intensely pleased, that every syllable my dear one said to me had my immediate acquiescence. "Oh, yes," said I, "I will be patient; but why should not people know? Why don't you tell Mrs Parker of our happiness? She is a good woman, I feel sure, and if she knew the state of matters she would advise and help us. Don't you wish that you could tell the Bains and Sandy, eh?

How delighted they all would be."

May did not tell me then, but afterwards she did, that Mrs Bain--woman-like--had discovered my darling's secret and mine also, and had prophesied to her what would happen "some day."

Not long after this I perceived May and Mrs Parker side by side, talking together intently, with so absorbed an aspect that I guessed what was their subject easily.

After supper that evening Mrs Parker, catching me alone, congratulated me, declaring that she had made up her mind about us before the boat left Dawson; and felt honoured that May had, at last, confided in her.

She a.s.sured me that in all her travels, and amongst all her acquaintances, she had never come across a sweeter girl than May Bell.

So, thereafter, May and I had many a sweet hour together, contrived by this kind Yankee friend, who, having plenty of wit and common-sense, arranged for us.

I fancy every person on board knew that we were lovers by the time we landed at St Michael's.

This place is an irregularly built village on an island of the same name. It consists of a few large warehouses--Russian buildings--a few log and frame houses and stores, and, when we were there, many shacks and temporary huts and camps.

It is perfectly treeless, but the gra.s.s-covered rolling downs were so like the prairies of Manitoba that May and I were impatient to go ash.o.r.e and feel soft green sward beneath our feet again.

Several large sea-going ships and steamers were alongside the wharf or anch.o.r.ed in the roadstead, and there were numerous river-boats loading and preparing for their pa.s.sage up to Dawson.

It was very evident, even before our boat touched land, that there was considerable excitement here. We were the first people down that season; this caused a crowd--all the inhabitants it seemed--to meet us, eager for our report. They swarmed on board before we were made fast, vehemently demanding information. "Was it true?" "Was gold being got as they had heard?" "Was there any left?" This was the burden of their interrogations.

There were wild-eyed fellows amongst them, who tackled every man of us almost savagely. There were women, too, just as anxious to hear what we could tell. Some of these latter got hold of May, and the captain was surrounded by a clamouring mob. They hardly gave him the chance to make his ship fast.

He referred them to the miners on board for information. He particularly indicated me--then I was attacked with a vengeance.

Questions poured upon me.

The intelligence I gave sent most of the crowd half-cranky with delight. At once they were for dragging me ash.o.r.e and treating me with all the grog and good things the place contained. They declared that nothing was too good for me, for what I had told them satisfied them that they were not too late, that all the gold was not yet extracted from the Klond.y.k.e!

As for May, I saw her being haled ash.o.r.e by her female admirers, and she was looking quite alarmed. So soon as I could get my besiegers to listen I begged them to let me go to her. They did so, but they all accompanied me, and were then for both of us accepting unbounded hospitality.

It seemed that our captain had let out that we had a lot of gold on board. We could not, and did not, deny this, but when it came to questions about the amount we answered mysteriously. That was enough; they were certain that the captain had been right when he put our treasure down as worth several millions!

It was some time before we could break away from these enthusiasts. Go where we would they followed us, each wanting a private word or two.

It was an exciting time truly.

There was one fine steamship leaving for Victoria that very evening.

With difficulty I got on board, interviewed her commander, a first-rate English sailor, and secured our pa.s.sages. The Parkers did the same.

This ship, a well-known Victoria trader, had brought up a full to overflowing complement of pa.s.sengers. She was returning empty for another lot.

We heard that Victoria, Vancouver, and all the inland towns of Canada, all the American cities on Puget Sound, with San Francisco and all California, were half-mad about these wonderful finds reported on the Klond.y.k.e. The latest news from Eastern Canada and the States, from Britain, and indeed from all the world, was that vast crowds were coming.

We heard such stories, such wild, astounding stories about the doings up where we had come from. Such exorbitant fortunes that had been made, such heaps of gold-dust, such nuggets, buckets full of them!

flour-barrels full! kegs heaped up with them! We were told that in some of the creeks the precious metal was so plentiful that men had picked up piles in a few hours--that there was plenty for every one who could but reach the Klond.y.k.e!

It was in vain that we a.s.sured them that we knew nothing of such occurrences,--that we were sure it was mostly gross exaggeration. No one would listen to this; they said we were trying to deceive them, to hide the truth from them, for that it was well known we ourselves had so much gold with us that we were multi-millionaires already, and were hoping and scheming to make ourselves richer still. It was no use our arguing, our disclaiming--they knew far better than we did.

We hardly heard a word about how the swarms, bound in, were to be fed.

They knew that every ship had reached the port with heavy cargoes of food, they knew that the stores and warehouses here were full, but scarcely any one appeared to have an idea of getting it up to where the gold existed. They had very much to learn.

With some scheming we managed to get our gold transferred to this other ship; then we sailed at midnight.

This was a _real_ steamship, flying the British ensign, manned and served in proper British style. We had excellent quarters, a capital table--my darling girl and I were in the lap of luxury.

I need not particularise much about this voyage. We had good weather, bright, clear, and not so cold, for our 750 miles pa.s.sage across Behring Sea to Dutch Harbour on the island of Unalaska, the most important of the Aleutian chain. Its mountains were capped with eternal snow, but the greenness of the lower land was very charming.

Many vessels were lying here, as it is a supply station for the sealing and whaling fleets.