Whyborne
By the time we put into port in Alaska a month later, I was heartily sick of the steamer that had brought us to these wild shores. And yet my first glimpse of land over the rails quelled whatever desire I had to leave the ship.
The journey began auspiciously enough. We’d traversed the country in comfort, thanks to Whyborne Railroad and Industries. I’d felt a bit odd once we’d left Widdershins, as though I were slightly off balance, but the luxuries of our private car softened any sensations of discomfort.
The steamer awaiting us in San Francisco, however, provided no such amenities. The thing was more scow than passenger ship, and packed to the rafters with exactly what Christine most feared: a hundred men and women who, having missed the great stampede to the Klondike two years ago, now rushed to the new finds in Nome and Hoarfrost.
The sight of so many people who, as she put it, wanted to destroy her dig site, sent her wild with indignation. Griffin tried to calmly point out they would likely be stuck in St. Michael for the winter, until the spring thaw allowed them and their goods to be transported up the Yukon. It did little to improve her mood.
I hid in the cramped berth I shared with Griffin and tried to avoid everyone for the duration of the voyage. My sensation of being slightly off, as though some mild illness weakened me, persisted. Combined with my intense dislike of traveling on the water, it left me miserable and short tempered. When not complaining of our fellow passengers, Christine teased me for being a fish-man afraid of water. I quickly tired of her sport, and our barbed exchange ended with us thoroughly out of sorts with one another.
As a result, I’d been desperate with longing to leave the blasted steamer and have dry land beneath my feet again. Now I viewed the wharf, such as it was, and wondered if I hadn’t appreciated the confines of the ship quite as much as I should. The thin sunlight, which lasted only a few hours at this latitude, revealed a chaotic scene of ships, cargo, people, and animals. Stevedores cursed in French, English, and Russian, horses whinnied in alarm as they were hoisted off the deck of a nearby ship, and dogs barked incessantly. Unlike the old quays of Widdershins, these docks were hastily built from raw lumber and looked as if they might collapse at any moment. The solid land beyond was nothing but a churned mess of half-frozen mud, snow, ice, and dog waste.
I’d expected to see a town much like Widdershins—not as venerable, of course, but consisting of orderly streets lined with shops and homes. Instead, the place was a ramshackle sprawl of tents, shacks, and rough buildings, its roads nothing more than raw muck.
“This is St. Michael?” I asked faintly, in the desperate hope the steamer had put into the wrong port. The bitterly cold, dry air stung exposed skin and savaged my nose and throat with each breath. I tugged the hideous puce scarf up over the lower half of my face, grateful when it blunted the cold.
“I’d advise against that,” Griffin said, pulling the scarf back down. “The humidity from your breath will soak it, and the whole thing will end up frozen to your face.”
Wonderful. “And the town? I expected something a bit more...established? I thought the Russians founded it seventy years ago.”
“It’s still a frontier town.” Griffin noticed the expression on my face and grinned. “I suspect by the time we reach Hoarfrost, you’ll look back on St. Michael with great fondness as a bastion of civilization.”
Clapping me on the shoulder, he turned away to retrieve our baggage. I stared at the filthy collection of buildings—I could hardly term it a city—with mounting horror. What had I gotten myself into?
Iskander awaited us on the dock, heavily bundled in a fur-lined parka. Had his Egyptian blood adapted to the cold, or had he spent the weeks cursing Griffin’s brother for drawing us here?
A smile spread across his face when he spotted us—or, rather, Christine—coming down the gangplank. He hurried over, and, ignoring the curses of the dockworkers trying to unload the ship, took her thickly gloved hands in his. “Christine,” he said. “It’s good to see you again.”
She flushed, but didn’t look away from his eyes. “And you.”
Griffin cleared his throat politely. “Perhaps we should get our baggage unloaded?”
Iskander released Christine and took a hasty step back, folding his hands behind him as if to restrain himself from touching her. “Yes. You brought everything on the list?”
Although most of our supplies already awaited us in Hoarfrost—assuming they hadn’t met with some disaster on the way, at least—we’d brought a few things with us.
“Of course we did,” Christine replied. “Food for the trail, clothing, and medicine for each of us.”
“And lime juice and tomatoes to ward off scurvy?”
“Scurvy!” I exclaimed. “No one said anything about scurvy to me.”
“It’s quite the problem, I understand,” Iskander said. “As you can imagine, there is little opportunity for fresh food in the hinterlands once winter sets in.”
“Jack didn’t come with you?” Griffin peered around at the crowd. A little frown line sprang up between his brows.
“He needed a few moments to attend to some business, as we’ll be leaving in the morning,” Iskander replied. “I’m sure he’ll be along shortly.”
“Well, come along, let’s see to our things, before the captain decides to fling everything overboard,” Christine said.
As Iskander called to some of the dockworkers, I turned to Griffin. “Did anyone mention scurvy to you?”
“Jack spoke of it in his letters.” Griffin rubbed at the stubble on his chin, not looking me in the eye. “I didn’t think it worth mentioning.”
“Is there anything else you haven’t bothered to mention?”
“I’m going to see if Iskander needs any help.” Griffin patted me on the arm. “Why don’t you wait for us over by those crates?”
Curse the man. I glared at his back as he beat a hasty retreat.
As Griffin had suggested, I found a quiet—well, quieter—spot to wait, well out of the way. Nearby, a troop of women greeted the newcomers from the steamer. Their clothing, revealing even in these frigid temperatures, left little doubt as to their profession. They smiled and flirted, but I caught sight of a few shivering. Should I offer one of them my coat?
Before I could determine the polite course of action, two men strolled past, deep in conversation. One I recognized from the steamer: a strapping young fellow with a strong Iowa accent, chasing the prospect of gold. The other was much more finely dressed than anyone else I’d yet seen on the docks.
“I’ve made my fortune,” the well-dressed man said. “But I still have an unworked claim, right beside the one I pulled a million dollars out of. Now, I’m ready to get back to civilization, so it’s no good to me. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in buying me out?”
The young man’s eyes widened. “For how much, sir?”
“Why, if I asked for what it’s worth, thousands of dollars, at least.” The older man smiled genially. “But as I said, I’ve plenty of money already. And, just between us, you remind me of myself, when I first arrived. I’d like to give you a break, the way I would have wanted someone to give me a break.”
“Someone ought to give you a broken leg, Callahan,” said a new voice.
The newcomer ambled up, his easy gait belying the hard look in his emerald green eyes. His animal hide coat more closely resembled what an Eskimo might wear than the mackinaws sported by most of the others on the dock. A fur hat crowned his chestnut locks, and his cocky grin added to devilish good looks.
Callahan’s own smile slipped. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, course you do.” The newcomer clapped Callahan on the shoulder. “Have you introduced yourself properly to the cheechako?” Turning to the young man, he bowed slightly. “This here is Bill Callahan, the town’s biggest swindler. Picks a likely fool off every boat and offers to sell a rich claim at a bargain price. Of course, the claim doesn’t exist.”
The young man’s eyes went wide with alarm. “Er, excuse me,” he said, and hurried away.
Callahan pulled free, his face dark with anger. “Devil take you, Hogue. I don’t know what you’re playing at these days, but you’d better watch your back. Someone might put a bullet in it.”
Hogue?
As Callahan stormed away, I called, “Jack Hogue?”
“That’s me,” Hogue said brightly. “What can I do for you, sir?”
“Please, allow me to introduce myself,” I said, extending my hand. “I’m Dr. Percival Endicott Whyborne, with the Ladysmith Expedition.”
Surprise widened his eyes, although I couldn’t imagine why. What on earth had Griffin said about me in his letters? Then Hogue’s smile returned to its previous brilliance. “A pleasure to meet you, Dr. Whyborne.” Up close, his resemblance to Griffin became obvious. They had the same eyes, the same hair, even the same grin. A spray of freckles decorated Hogue’s nose and cheeks, just as they did Griffin’s.
Although he would never know it, this man was in a way my brother-in-law. “Please, it’s just Whyborne,” I said. “We might not have corresponded, but any brother of Griffin’s is a friend of mine.”
He grinned, a devilish smile I knew well from seeing it on Griffin’s lips. “Jack, then.”
“Whyborne!”
For once, my height gave me an advantage, and I spotted Griffin quickly. “Griffin! Over here!” I called back. A moment later, he’d pushed through the crowd to join us.
“Griffin?” Jack asked. His voice sounded oddly hopeful.
Griffin’s eyes widened at the sight of his brother. His tremulous smile made my heart ache. “Jack? Brother?”
Jack laughed and pulled Griffin into an embrace, their first in over a quarter century. I shuffled back a few paces, wishing I could have given them more privacy for their reunion.
“I can hardly believe it,” Griffin said.
“Here, let me look at you.” Jack held Griffin at arm’s length, still clasping his shoulders in his hands. He stood slightly taller than Griffin, and his nose had a crook to it where an old break hadn’t set properly. Otherwise, they looked remarkably alike. “My baby brother, all grown up.”
Griffin blinked rapidly. “Yes.” He swallowed. “We have so much to talk about. Our whole lives to catch up on.”
“Quite,” Jack said. “But there will be plenty of time on the trail. For now we need to get your things off the ship and packed onto the sleds. I’ve hired some fellows to help out, but even so, there’s not much daylight left.”
“Of course.” Griffin nodded, but couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “Let’s get to work.”