At the Mountain's Edge

by Genevieve Graham

  “Did you want to see the whales too?” she asked the dog, who wagged its tail in reply.

  A quick peek determined her new friend was female, and pregnant at that. Liza knew to be careful around her, since most of the dogs on board were too ornery for a person to approach, but this one seemed just as delighted by the sight of the whales as Liza had been. She reached out a hand for the dog to sniff, then stroked the grimy fur on her neck, enjoying the friendly contact.

  “You’re very sweet,” she said, scratching behind the dog’s perky ears. “You’re not like the others, are you?”

  Stan scowled. “Sure she is. She’s filthy and probably crawling with fleas.”

  “At least she doesn’t want to bite me.”

  “Someone bit her, though. Look at that front paw.”

  “Oh dear,” Liza murmured. The paw was badly swollen, and its fur was matted with dried blood, drawing flies. If Liza could clean it—but when she reached towards the paw, the dog jerked it away and retreated to lick her wound.

  “Nothing I can do if she won’t let me. Poor thing. Do you think she’ll be okay?”

  Stan shrugged. “It’d be a waste of a good dog if she died. I hear sled dogs are pretty valuable out here.”

  The whales were gone for now and the dog had left as well, so Liza and Stan decided to wander around the ship, detouring to bring their parents toast and tea in their cabin. Their mother had suffered terribly from seasickness ever since they’d boarded the ship. Fortunately, their father was devoted to taking care of her, and today she said she was feeling a little better. She didn’t finish her toast, though, so Liza pocketed the crust in case she ran into the dog again. Before she left the cabin she kissed her mother’s cheek, then said a silent prayer that she would recover soon. They all needed to be strong for the journey ahead.

  The thought made Liza pause, as it always did. Was she strong enough? She wasn’t sure.

  Within a matter of weeks, her old life had ended. The store was gone, the house had been sold, and everything they still owned was stowed in the bowels of the reeking SS Islander, her home for forty days or so. Trapped on board with about a hundred and fifty other passengers—only three of whom, she believed, were women—she was constantly bumping elbows with strangers, and she’d learned the hard way to be careful where she stepped. In addition to its regular passengers, the boat carried oxen, cattle, horses, goats, and dogs, none of which worried about where they left their droppings.

  At least the weather wasn’t overly cold, she mused as she and Stan returned to the deck. They were both dressed warmly, but she’d always imagined that the North would be exceptionally freezing, so this damp but manageable chill they’d been experiencing was somewhat of a relief. Stan had said something about the coastal mountains shielding them from the worst of the weather, just like in Vancouver.

  “Sometimes your endless stream of trivia is actually useful,” she’d teased.

  “Sometimes your endless stream of questions isn’t too annoying,” he’d replied, smiling.

  Not only were they protected from the cold as they floated up the Inside Passage, but they were also sheltered from the ocean’s temperament by a chain of islands. That made it a calm waterway, which had been a relief. Before they’d left Vancouver, Liza had made a point of studying the map her father had rolled out on the dining room table. She’d worried about the meandering route the Islander would have to take, but the thoroughfares were not nearly as narrow as she’d feared. The map hadn’t done justice to how the coastline constantly changed, either. Rich forests along the shore melted into ancient beds of rock before they swelled back into view, harbouring what she imagined must be a world of wildlife. And beyond the endless rocks and trees loomed the distant profiles of mountains, which Liza tried hard not to think about.

  As they chugged upstream, she let the monotony take her mind to the week before when she’d met her four closest friends at the Hotel Vancouver. When she’d told the girls that her family was about to embark on a journey to the Yukon, they were understandably stunned. The table had fallen silent for a whole minute before anyone started talking again. Then their exclamations had ranged from sympathetic to disbelieving and even, incredibly, envious, and Liza had found herself feeling obliged to at least play the part of someone who was excited about the voyage. But the whole time she feigned anticipation, she’d been thinking of those distant mountain peaks.

  She wouldn’t be able to ignore them for much longer. She was about to discover if this was the adventure of a lifetime, as her father called it . . . or if it was all a terrible mistake.

  “Are you okay?” Stan asked. “You’ve been staring into space for five minutes.”

  She blinked, clearing her thoughts. “Yes, I’m fine.” She spotted an open bench and started towards it. “I just need to sit down. We can watch for more wildlife from there, okay?”

  “Sure,” he said. “Maybe we’ll see more whales. Actually, did you know . . .”

  He was off again, chattering about something or other, and Liza tuned him out as she studied the coastline. During these afternoons they often saw herds of deer grazing along the banks, but sometimes they saw shipwrecks, and every time they spotted one of those sunken hulls poking through the surface of the water Stan would study it with a ghoulish curiosity. Liza had to look away from them. The thought of the Islander hitting a boulder and sinking, dragging the passengers under that freezing water, absolutely terrified her. Today, thankfully, they saw no rusting metal sticking out of the water, though they did spot a large brown bear at the water’s edge. Stan informed her that it was a grizzly hunting salmon, and since he was usually right, she didn’t argue.

  “There’s your friend,” he said.

  She turned, confused, then smiled as the white dog limped towards them, tail wagging.

  “Why, hello there.”

  She dug in her pocket for the crust she’d saved and dropped it in front of the animal. As the dog crunched loudly on the snack, Liza looked more closely at the injured paw.

  “Stan,” she said. “Would you mind getting me a glass of water and a cloth?”

  “Where am I supposed to get that?”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” she said, waving him off.

  He left with a huff.

  “Thank you!” she called absently, then turned back to the dog. “Let’s see if I can help you feel better when he gets back with that. Do you have a name? How about I call you Blanche? To go with your pretty white colour.” Seeming to approve, Blanche stretched her neck upwards so Liza could scratch her throat. “Does that feel good?”

  By the time Stan returned, Blanche was much more at ease, and she didn’t complain when Liza dabbed the paw with water.

  “I think if I clean it maybe I can see how to mend it,” Liza told her brother.

  “I went all that way so you could clean a dog?”

  “Oh, Stan. Do stop complaining and help me out.” She tilted her head, examining the injury. “What do you think?”

  He crouched beside her. “I don’t know. It looks infected.”

  If they hadn’t been on this wretched ship, Liza could have taken her to a veterinarian, and maybe they could have done something. As it was, she could do nothing but gently wind the cloth around Blanche’s paw, making a sort of sock bandage.

  “I hope this helps you feel better,” she said. “I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

  In the weeks that followed, Liza looked for Blanche, but she only saw her a couple of times in passing. The bandage was gone by then, and her tail hung lower. It was difficult, seeing the sweet dog that way, but there was nothing Liza could do. On the bright side, Liza’s mother was improving, though she hadn’t ventured out on deck more than a half-dozen times. Ironically, just as she had regained her appetite, the ship’s food had become short in supply.

  “I can’t believe you had to pay for this voyage,” Liza muttered to her father. “Food rations? They should pay us to put up with all the in
conveniences.”

  Her father had left her mother sleeping in their cabin to come stand with Liza at the rail, choosing the morning’s drizzle over the fetid air indoors. Liza wasn’t sure there was much of a choice. Unless they were heading directly into the wind, the cramped steamship smelled so terrible Liza couldn’t breathe through her nose.

  “These tickets were difficult to acquire, and they cost an arm and a leg,” her father admitted. “Ah, well. It will be worth it in the end. We must believe that.”

  “You do, don’t you? Still believe it?” she asked, sensing a note of uncertainty.

  “Of course, my dear.” He put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “We shall all be glad when our store opens its doors in Dawson City. But we must take it one step at a time. First stop will be Dyea.”

  “At least that will be better than this ship!”

  He chuckled. “Your mother would definitely agree with you there.”

  Just then, a boat approached from the opposite direction, catching Liza’s attention. It was the first vessel she’d seen travelling south.

  “They must be heading home,” her father said. “I imagine we’ll see more as we get closer to Dyea.” He squinted at the men on board. “I would very much like to hear their stories.”

  As the boat drifted closer, Liza stared, transfixed. All she could see was gold. Open trunks and gaping sacks lay mostly untended on the decks, their contents catching the sunlight. Confused, she took in the ragged appearance of the passengers, their emaciated bodies stooped and draped in worn clothing. They certainly didn’t look like they’d struck it rich.

  “Look how the boat is weighted down!” Stan exclaimed, squeezing in beside them. “There must be even more gold beneath the deck.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “How’s the mining?” he shouted.

  “Go back!” they yelled. “There’s no food! Turn back now while you still have a chance!”

  Apprehension fluttered in Liza’s stomach. “What are they talking about?” she asked her father.

  “Don’t let them bother you,” Stan said, logical as always. “Of course they want us to go back. They want to keep the gold for themselves. Just look at what they’ve already mined.”

  Their father agreed. “I don’t understand why they’d complain. After all, that much gold could buy a man anything he needed.”

  “But if the mining is that good,” Liza asked, “why are they leaving?”

  “Maybe there’s a limit to how much a boat can carry,” Stan suggested. A smug smile played over his lips as they watched the vessel drift past. “I say let them go. All the more for us!”

  But Liza couldn’t dismiss the strangers’ warnings so easily. They still rang in her ears hours later, as she tried to fall asleep. What had happened to them? Were they just not prepared? Her family had packed a whole store’s worth of food and provisions, but what if that wasn’t enough? What were they getting into?

  • • •

  A week later, Liza’s mother emerged onto the deck on her husband’s arm. The relatively fresh air brushed colour onto her cheeks, but it was plain to see that the seasickness had taken its toll. She was unsteady, bracing herself against the rail beside Liza, and while she claimed to feel fine, the dark rings beneath her eyes said otherwise.

  “Captain says we should reach Dyea any time now,” Stan said to their father.

  Liza almost cheered. “Thank goodness. I’d give anything for a soft bed and warm meal.”

  “You’re headin’ the wrong direction if you want comfort,” a male voice drawled, and Liza turned towards it. “I understand folks up this way need to get creative if they’re looking for warmth.”

  The speaker leaned on the rail a few feet away, staring openly at Liza. He spat a lump of tobacco over the side, and she cringed when it plopped noisily into the water. I am no longer on the civilized streets of Vancouver, she reminded herself.

  “I’ve seen you around this ship,” he went on, his hooded gaze intent on her. “I’ve been watching.”

  Alarm skittered up Liza’s neck, and she looked to Stan and her father. Stan quickly put himself between her and the stranger and folded his arms.

  “Thank you for the advice,” he said stiffly. “We’ll be fine.”

  The stranger nodded slowly, though his predatory eyes lingered. Eventually he gave Liza a slow wink, then wandered away, disappearing into the crowd.

  Even after the man left, Liza couldn’t get him out of her head. There was nowhere she could go on this damn boat where the stranger couldn’t follow. An unfamiliar fear swirled through her. Had he been spying on her this whole time? She’d been so focused on her mother and everything else going on that she hadn’t even noticed, and now she felt distinctly uneasy. Were other passengers watching her the same way? She scanned the crowd, suddenly wary of every man in sight. For the first time in her life, she felt helpless. What had her father been thinking, bringing her here?

  Liza heard her mother let out a long breath. “Arthur,” she said quietly, “these men . . . I don’t feel at all safe around them. Do you suppose it is just the monotony of this sea journey that is bringing out the brute in them, or is this what we can expect to encounter along our entire journey?”

  Liza looked to her father. Let’s go home, she pleaded silently. Please take us home.

  He patted his wife’s hand but didn’t answer her question. “You will both be fine, Agatha. Stan and I are here to protect you.”

  Before she could respond, the sky opened up and a terrible, sleety rain pelted the deck. Her mother magically produced an umbrella and pulled Liza in close.

  “Let’s go back to the cabin,” she suggested.

  But the crew suddenly began to shout, “Dyea! Dyea!” and the whole boat shifted as dozens of men squeezed through the corridors and onto the deck, their travel-weary lethargy having transformed abruptly to impatience. Alarmed, Liza and her mother clung to the rail at the deck’s edge, trying to stay upright on the slippery floor.

  “Where’s the wharf?” Liza’s father yelled, squinting through the rain.

  “No wharf here,” a passing sailor told him. “This beach here is Dyea’s welcome mat. When the tide’s high, nobody gets in. It’s on its way in now, so once we drop you off, you’ll want to move as quick as you can.” He pointed at a number of small barges bobbing offshore, moving towards the ship. “That’s what those boys are there for. Get your money out, folks!”

  Everyone was shoved forward as the boat abruptly slowed, then inched as close as it could to the shoreline. From the relative shelter of her mother’s umbrella, Liza peered hopelessly through the deluge at the long sandy beach stretched in front of them.

  “I don’t understand,” she said through chattering teeth. “There are no d-docks or buildings. Do they expect us t-to just climb off while we’re still sailing? And then where do we go?”

  “We’re not the first to land here,” Stan reminded her, shivering hard himself. “Can’t be that difficult, can it?”

  “Stan’s right,” her father said, wiping his arm across his eyes and scanning the ship. “If others have done this, so shall we. We simply must be smart about it.” He set off towards a group of sailors, then called back over his shoulder, “Collect as many of our things as you can and bring them to the edge of the boat. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  Liza and Stan looked helplessly at each other. How could they—

  “You heard your father,” their mother said, an unexpected determination in her voice. “The sailors are piling cargo over there.” She snapped her umbrella closed. “Let’s go.”

  Liza grabbed Stan’s sleeve, and the three of them stumbled towards the heaps of baggage, arms extended for balance as they did their best not to collide with other passengers. The whole deck was caught up in a mad rush as men dashed around, finding and claiming their items. The sailors dumped luggage onto smaller, waiting boats, all while trying not to slip on the icy deck. Horses, oxen, dogs, goats, and anything else with f
our legs were released into the water to fend for themselves. Liza had never seen or heard anything so chaotic in her entire life.

  Stan called out when he found the crates labelled Peterson. He heaved one towards Liza, but it was too heavy, and the sides were too wide for her reach. She grabbed a sailor and gestured at what he was carrying.

  “I need your crowbar!”

  He gave it to her without question, and Liza drove the claw into the lid, then pried it off with a grunt, thankful her father had tasked her so many times with unpacking stock at the store. She reached inside for their bags and handed her mother as many as she could handle, then she filled her own arms. Ducking around other passengers, the three of them made their way to the side of the boat and squinted through the storm for Arthur.

  “There he is!” her mother cried.

  “Agatha!” he called as the barge he rode wobbled closer to the ship. “Get ready to jump on board.”

  Liza’s mother hesitated for just a moment before leaping forward and landing safely in his arms.

  “Your turn,” Stan said to Liza.

  But Liza couldn’t move her feet. The whole idea of voluntarily leaping over open water was daunting. Really, the barge where her parents waited was little more than a raft, piloted by one man with a stick, and from the way it rocked, Liza could tell there was nothing sturdy about it.

  “Liza, I know,” Stan said gently. “I’m scared too. But we have to do it. Let’s go. I promise I’ll be right behind you the whole way.”

  “Come on!” her father yelled.

  If it weren’t for the storm, Liza was sure everyone on the ship would have heard her heart thundering.

  “Don’t think about it,” Stan said beside her. “Just jump.”

  Liza held her breath and vaulted over the gap, ridiculously pleased with herself when she skidded, upright, across the wet barge. Behind her, Stan yelled a warning, then flew across, but his arms were so full that he lost his balance and slipped. The barge dipped and rocked, and Liza watched helplessly as he slid towards the water feet first. Just in time, her father reached out and dragged him back to safety.