SEPTEMBER BEGAN. Daylight hours decreased quickly in the Yukon. Geese and ducks and small birds gathered themselves into flocks and took off into the southern skies. The caribou herded themselves and followed the scent of warmer air. Two-legged and four-legged hunters tried to intercept as many as they could, wolves attacking the slow and weak, men seeking out the big and meaty.
Green leaves already turned yellow and orange, scattered in winds that chilled from the Arctic. Grizzlies and black bears, seeing the bushes denude of berries and ice beginning to form over their supplies of fish, lumbered into caves to sleep away the oncoming winter. Big game retreated into the mountains. Wolves and dogs of the north grew a thick undercoat of fur. Hares and mice turned white to hide in the snow. Chickadees and snow buntings feathered their nests and sang a cheerful song. “Bring it on.”
Constantine paced and frowned. The people of Dawson were his responsibility. He sat down at his correspondence desk and informed Ottawa of the situation:
Approximately 4,000 crazed men, he reported, chiefly American miners and toughs from the coastal towns, have arrived and aren’t about to depart. Winter is fast coming on. The outlook for grub is not good. And all these gold diggers, women included, are apparently blissfully unaware.Three-quarters of them have never braved a winter north of Vancouver. And they’ve come as though expecting to find a proper city with stores full of goods and streets full of furnished houses to rent. What we’re going to have on our streets is corpses buried in snow, if supplies don’t come through.
Constantine had ordered everyone to chop and lay up a winter’s supply of wood. But how could he make them produce a sufficient supply of food, damn it! He banged his fist on desk number three. He summoned the general manager of the Alaska Commercial Company. “Captain Healy,” he said, “what in Tarnation has happened to your ships? They should be here by now. This town is about to run out of food!”
“Inspector Constantine,” said Healy, “I have done my job. I have ordered five steamboats to be loaded with food and clothing. I was informed that these orders have been fulfilled. They are on their way up the Yukon. God knows why they have not arrived yet. But I do not.”
“In that case, Captain, the mystery will have to be solved by the North West Mounted Police.” Constantine stood up from his desk. He closed the heavy book of daily reports. “I shall be heading downriver to Fortymile at sun-up. If the fate of your steamboats can’t be traced from there I’ll be stymied. If they’re in Alaska, it’s beyond my jurisdiction.”
Healy considered this. He did not like his company being shown up, even investigated, by the North West Mounted Police. He would send his own investigator. Hansen, his assistant at the Alaska Commercial Company, was always hot to trot.
“Let me talk this over with Captain Hansen,” said Healy. “He’ll follow the river all through Alaska, right to the ocean if necessary. He’s done it many a time.”
“Very good then, Captain Healy. I’ll expect to see Hansen at the wharf at sun-up. We’ll be racing against the freeze over.”
Constantine patrolled his way through town that night, finding himself wanting to have a conversation with Meg, say goodbye. The nights were cold but not yet cold enough for his fur parka. It was too dark to see as he walked in military stride from the barracks and along Front Street. He couldn’t see them, but he could hear big chunks of ice crashing into the ice already forming along the river’s edge. On the town side of the street, the saloons were dimly lit but rollicking with men drinking, fiddles playing, women entertaining with song and dance. Always plenty of whisky, he observed. Never in short supply of that.
He turned down York Street and worked his way to Meg’s. It was his duty to glance into commercial windows. He glanced into hers. She too was entertaining. But with a book. And he knew the proceeds would go to the hospital fund. He watched, feeling like a peeping Tom. She looked as pretty as his grade-school teacher, hair tied up in a ribbon, fresh white blouse neatly tucked into that little waist. With a book held up in one hand, she was animatedly reading, gesturing with the other hand, looking up dramatically at her audience. Suspense hanging in the air, he thought, smiling to himself. Then she closed the book with both hands, bringing it down towards her knees as she bowed and then looked up with a broad smile at everyone. They clapped and stomped or rose to their feet shouting for more. She was laughing as she shook her head and pointed her finger in the air saying, “No more tonight, folks. Come back tomorrow.”
Constantine knocked on the door. Meg opened it. “Inspector Constantine! This is an honour. Won’t you come in? Well timed, I must say. The reading is over. Did you so time it?” She smiled.
“Not at all. Sorry to have missed it.” Constantine stepped in, tipped his hat to all. Was amazed to see Big Alex in the crowd, even risen to his feet in applause. And Kate Carmack with her daughter.
“Just making my rounds. Looks like a peaceful enough gathering. Might I have a word with you, Dr. Oliphant?” He tipped his hat to all and stepped back onto the porch.
She stood with the door closed behind her. “What is it?” she said anxiously.
“Departing tomorrow for Fortymile. Must find out what has happened to our last supply ships. The river is freezing over. Afraid we’re going to run out of grub.”
“Oh Charles, this sounds serious. And dangerous. Are you sure you should go?”
“It’s my duty. No question.”
“Well, I won’t try to dissuade you of that!” She smiled. “Come back safely.” She took his hand in both of hers.
He withdrew his hand, embraced her tightly, kissed her cheek. Then in embarrassment, saluted. In greater embarrassment, he turned and marched down the steps, down the street, no looking back. Damn it! He cursed himself. I should be fired for that. Behaved like a school boy, not a Mountie. Lost control. Lost respect. Damn me … to hell!
At sun-up, a small crowd waved to Constantine and Hansen as they set off downriver in a sturdy canoe paddled by themselves and two native men. Meg was there on the docks with Yukon Sally and Jake sitting attentively in front of her. Constantine waved once to all then turned and faced the river heading north.
Healy put a lock on the door of the Alaskan Commercial Company, where the remaining food supplies were stored. He had Wiggins and three other constables on hand to enforce the new rules. Only one person at a time would be allowed into the warehouse. And only three day’s ration of food could be purchased at a time.
“There’s enough for all,” he shouted at those gathered around, “so long as no one gets greedy. Now line up, boys. One after the other, neat and tidy. Have your money or poke ready. A fair deal for each and all. Constable Wiggins and company will see to that”
There were dozens ahead of her when Meg took her place in the line up. She looked around at all the newcomers to Dawson, all so ill-equipped for the winter setting in. Pickaxes and shovels aplenty. But their boots were worn out and their packsacks empty. They looked bewildered and discouraged. And so we should, thought Meg. I’ve never had to line up for rations of food in my life.
“So it is, in Dawson, the city of millionaire miners,” she said to the men beside her.
“We should’ve been told,” they complained.
“They should’ve warned us.”
“How can we work the gold fields if we can’t have more than a few days’ food?”
“Can’t buy enough food to go stake a claim, let alone search around for a good one.”
“How much longer we supposed to wait for word about them supply ships? I’ve a good mind to rush this dang warehouse and take the grub to the creeks where we can do some good with it. This is a miners’ town. Why don’t Miners’ Law rule!”
“Constable Wiggins,” Meg called out, “this gentleman has a question for you.”
Wiggins approached with Healy coming up behind him.
“What is your name, sir?” said Wiggins. “And where are you from?”
“Ely. Ely Doone from Wrangell, Alaska.”
“Came up through Moore’s place then, did you?” said Healy.
“What you mean Moore’s place? Never heard of it. Came up through Skagway. Took the White Pass.”
“We don’t want no Skagway here.” Men stepped forward to stand behind Constable Wiggins and Healy. “This is an orderly town. No guns. No bribery neither. Go back to Skagway if you want your shootouts and lynchings and robberies.”
Two newly arrived dance hall girls stepped forward. “We’re from Wrangell. It was bad enough. But Skagway! That’s real scary! Look what they done to that Frenchman they caught stealing from someone’s pack. Lashed him up in front of his tent then filled him with so many gun shots he was nothing but a fountain spouting blood. They left his body, awash in blood and gore, on display for three days. That’s Miners’ Law, for you. We come to Dawson to get away from that.” They sidled up to Constable Wiggins. “Give us a Mountie over Soapy Smith and his gang, any day. Or night.”
“Thank you, ladies,” said Wiggins. “Now what was your question, Mr. Doone?”
“Clean forgot.”
“You haven’t forgotten to leave your gun with us at the barracks, have you? I don’t recall seeing you report in.”
Ely shuffled.
“Are you wearing a gun, Mr. Doone?”
Ely folded his arms over his front, scowling.
“Open your jacket. Now! My man.”
Ely opened his jacket and withdrew a pistol which he handed over to Wiggins.
“Thank you, Mr. Doone. It will be kept for you.”
“Next!” shouted Healy towards the front of the line. “Let’s keep this moving.”
The days after Constantine’s and Hansen’s departure turned into a week. Two weeks. Three. The cold Arctic winds stripped the trees and shrubs of their leaves. The evergreens darkened and the purple-hued mountains seemed to blacken like charcoal. Grass and small plants turned brown. Larger and larger chunks of ice bashed around in the raging currents where the Klondike flowed into the Yukon River.
Each morning, Meg took Yukon Sally and Jake on their run around the outskirts of Dawson. Yukon was over a year old, a large malamute, at her full height, but her body not quite filled out. She was strong enough to pull a sled on her own, sometimes with Jake taking a rest in it. Jake was only a quarter her size but growing fast. He had more black in his coat than Yukon; darker, rounder eyes, and he was growing the broader chest of a malamute. Yukon Sally maintained the long legs and narrower chest of a wolf. Jake was more affectionate than Yukon and could be easily trained with food. He had a goofy playfulness about him that made Meg laugh out loud. The two of them helped to dispel her loneliness.
When she got into her cold bed at night, she wondered about Mick. Why had he not replied to her letters sent from Moore’s Landing and upon arrival in Dawson? Had his letter been lost or was he lost to her? She pulled the covers over her head, trying to fend off the dark thoughts. When she got up shivering in the morning, she would reload the stove, make tea, and let the dogs come in to get up on the bed with her while she drank her tea. She missed Daisy and hoped that she would come back into Dawson. Along with Constantine whom she worried about daily.
Three weeks after Constantine’s departure, when Meg was running Yukon and Jake part way up the Gulch, she thought she could see something coming upriver from the direction of Fortymile. It was hard to tell, with the river in such a commotion of bashing and jamming ice chunks, but it really did look like there might be something coming against the current towards Dawson. No. Probably just a battered log. But maybe … “Let’s go, Yukie, Jakey. Hike!”
They ran to Front Street and gathered at the wharfs, along with every other person and dog in Dawson City. The word had spread and sent everyone running like wild fire.
“A boat! A boat from the north!” people were shouting. The dogs began to howl and bark.
Meg got to the very edge of the river bank. She could see no boat. There was certainly no big ship of supplies. And no Constantine. Coming round the bend in the river was a much-battered birch-bark canoe, with Hansen and two native men, battling the current and big chunks of ice. All but the dogs fell silent in disappointment and apprehension as they watched Hansen steer into shore. He looked scrawny, wild-eyed, and exhausted, but he sprang up onto the wharf and raised his hand into the air.
“Men of Dawson!” he shouted. “There will be no riverboats here until spring. My Indians and I have come three hundred and fifty miles up the river to tell you this. I advise all of you who are out of provisions or who haven’t enough to carry you through the winter to make a dash for the Outside. There is no time to lose! There are some supplies at Fort Yukon that the Hamilton brought. Whichever way you go, upriver or downriver, it’s hazardous. But you must make the try.”
Meg was surrounded by people in panic. They began to shout and scream. Some fainted. Others ran for their belongings to make the dash for the Outside. Meg stood her ground and tried to catch the whole story. She couldn’t get near Hansen. Word was passed back that all the supply boats had been stranded and robbed of their cargo, hundreds of miles down the Yukon in Alaska.
“What about Constantine?” she kept asking.
“Probably drowned.”
“Strung up. Supply boats got robbed. Mutiny at Fortymile.”
“Miners’ Law taken over.”
“They got him captive at Fortymile.”
Various answers were passed head over head in the mob. Yukon Sally’s fur was bristling. Jake yelped. “Let’s go,” said Meg. “Let’s get out of this disorderly crowd.”
Yukon took off through the dispersing throngs with Jake at her heels and Meg running to catch up. They didn’t stop running until they got to their cabin. Yukon and Jake demanded to be let inside. Yukon lay firmly down on the floor, panting, keeping her eyes on Meg. Jake lay down beside her, panting, looking at Meg.
“Well!” said Meg, also panting, “I see we have decided not to make a dash for the Outside.”
She stood at the front window observing the street scenes in Dawson. Wiggins and the other constables were patrolling the streets like riot police. Restaurateurs were locking up, guarding what food they had left. People scurried to assess their stocks or clustered to discuss the situation. The dogs of Dawson were eerily silent, watching like wolves for what danger was at hand. Meg recalled stories she’d heard of the previous winter when some dogs were shot because their owners had no food for them. She looked at Yukon Sally and Jake, who looked up at her, inquiringly, trusting, full of readiness for whatever the task at hand.
How could anyone shoot such creatures? I would shoot myself first, she concluded. She drew in her breath as she felt a pang of fear. “But first of all,” she said to Yukon Sally and Jake, “let us find out the truth. What has really happened to our commander-in-chief. And let us see how dire the straits really are. I’m going to find Captain Healy and see what he has to say. He is a practical man. But you malamutes stay put. And keep a low profile. No howling when I’m out of sight. Do not make your presence known. You hear!”
Meg locked them in the back yard. As she set off to find Healy, she calculated what supplies she had on hand. Certainly enough ether and iodine. Constantine had had a good year’s supply brought in for her. The cat-gut for sutures might run out but surely that could be brought by dogsled from one of the ports. A month’s supply of dried meat and fish for the dogs. That could be replenished with more purchased from the natives at Moosehide. If necessary, I could teach myself to be a hunter. I could certainly learn to ice fish. And I’ve got enough beans, flour, and tea to share. There’s also my secret emergency cache. Tins of corned beef, evaporated milk, and applesauce. I could sell that for a great fortune now. But Big Alex is right. Gold is trash. Food’s the treasure.
She encountered Constable Wiggins doing crowd control. “Do you know what has happened to Inspector Constantine?” she asked.
“Constantine will survive,” said Wiggins. “You may count on that. But there’s been foul play at Fortymile and up at Circle City. Supply ships have been pirated by the fool citizens. But don’t believe all you hear. Hansen gets over-excited. Cries wolf before he’s actually seen it. Never make a Mountie out of that man. But, rest assured, our man Constantine will come through.” Constable Wiggins tipped his hat to her. “You must excuse me now, ma’am. The citizens of Dawson are not at rest.”
That answer was more wishful thinking than fact, thought Meg, but she was feeling some relief, if not optimism, by the time she found Captain Healy. He was standing sentinel outside his warehouse, flanked by several muscular citizens, their hands gripping shovels like rifles standing on end. The nearby saloons were noisy with men debating the situation, drinking to one opinion and then to another, as to what to do.
“Captain Healy,” said Meg, “do you have enough in your warehouse to get us through the winter?”
“You’re a sensible woman,” said Healy. “Everyone else comes asking what they can bribe out of me today. ‘Every man for himself’ is their philosophy. That kind of greedy guts will ensure our extinction. Hence these doors are locked until the citizens of Dawson calm down and listen to me, instead of taking Hansen’s word as gospel.”
“What is the truth, Captain?”
“The Alaska Commercial Company will see those who stay through the winter. The rations may get meagre but we haven’t let a town starve yet.”
“Yet, is not a very reassuring word, Captain Healy.” Meg smiled.
“I can assure you of another thing, Dr. Oliphant. The Weare and the Bella have never let me down. Other boats get stranded and never make it. But they always have.”
It’s not in his interests to have the whole town vacate, thought Meg as she walked towards the waterfront. He and his company can now sell their goods at the highest prices. Must question him sometime on his understanding of “the greatest good for the greatest number.” At the wharf, Meg saw more small boats than she could accurately count pushing off in the swift and ice-jumbled currents, full of men determined to make it to the stranded supplies, three hundred and fifty miles downriver.
Meg lay awake that night trying not to think about food and therefore thinking only about food. Roast beef dinners. Breakfasts of fried eggs with bacon. A fresh orange…
There was a scratching at the door. Meg got out of bed. “I’m coming Yukie, I’m coming.”
Yukon sat on the back step, Jake beside her. Meg could hear more loudly the commotion on the streets as people discussed or acted upon leaving or staying. Yukon barked a sharp command.
“All right, come in then,” said Meg. They followed her up to bed and stood by while she got into it. Yukon placed a paw near Meg’s shoulder and spoke. Jake jumped up onto the foot of the bed. “Jake, you sneak!” said Meg. “Get down. Yukon asked first.”
Jake growled as she nudged his rump with her foot but he got down from the bed. Yukon Sally got up on the bed, lay down and nuzzled her snout into the crook of Meg’s arm. “Oh dear!” Meg patted her. “It’s not so worrisome as all that, is it!”
Yukon sat up, ears twitching. Jake jumped back up onto the bed.
“All right, Jakey.” She patted him. “Don’t you worry, my wolves. All that ruckus out there on the streets, it’s just drunk or panicking humans. We’ll get through the winter. We’re a pack and we’ll stick together. Right?”
Yukon gave her face a lick. Jake got up and gave her three licks then settled in with his rump against her shoulder.
“Meg!” The front door had burst open. Daisy’s voice sounded. “Meg, I’m back!”
She collided with Yukon and Jake rushing downstairs towards her. “Whooa! What are you spoiled dogs doing inside!” She hugged them. “My! How our fat pup has grown! And so, my braves.” She patted each of them. “You’re not taking off like all those cowards in boats, are you? No? Good dogs. You have to stay here with us. In case we have to eat you.”
“Daisy!” Meg held her arms out to her. “That’s not funny. What kept you so long!”
“Skookum Jim,” she said. “I’m going to marry him.” “When?”
“As soon as he accepts my proposal. He says I’m too young now.”
Meg hugged her. “Now there’s a wise man. Worth waiting for!”
Daisy had come in from what was now called Grand Forks in light of all the settlement that had sprung up around Belinda’s bar, hotel, and general store. She had come in along with the rush of miners who left their claims unguarded to see what the situation was in Dawson. Belinda herself stayed put, unwilling to leave her cash register unattended.
“That Belinda!” said Daisy. “What a tough! And scrapper! Between her and the Big Moose, they’re going to own the whole Klondike. Buying up mines. Buying up supplies before they even get to Dawson.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s only hearsay, since you can’t get two words out of the Moose and Belinda never shows her hand, but they say the two of them raced downriver back in June to buy up supplies on one of the boats that got stranded. Moose got there first and bought up the foodstuffs. Belinda was mad as hell at losing out on that, but she got the dry goods. Rubber boots and stuff, which she can sell for her usual two hundred per cent mark up come spring cleanup.”
“Well! Haven’t you picked up on economics out there on the creeks!”
“Economics?” Daisy frowned. “Knock it off, Meg! I’m not even asking what that means. On the other hand, what does it mean? I want to get into some other line of business, besides song and dance. I’m tired of being mauled and ogled by men I don’t care about. Belinda doesn’t have to do that. And nor do you. Ethel Berry says I could just sing, not dance with the men since I’m such a good singer …”
“You are. You could go to New York and join the opera.”
“I like it here in Dawson.”
“So do I. You know in real cities it’s much harder for women to get ahead.”
“Don’t start lecturing, Meg. I’m doing fine and I got a huge poke of gold to prove it.”
“Did you see our new hospital? Roof isn’t finished and we have no doctor or nurses yet. There’s just the priest, me, and Kate as consultant on natural medicines. Lots of openings for you there. Ever thought of becoming a medicine woman?”
“No! I’m going to run a dress and finery shop.”
Early next morning, while it was still dark, Molly Doyle came knocking on Meg’s door with Sapphire Star, Gypsy Rose, and Mandolin Lily in tow.
“You’re a doctor, right?” said Molly, getting straight to the point as soon as they were inside. “Sapphire here needs a potion.”
“A potion?” said Meg, inviting them to sit down.
“Either that or an operation,” said Molly. “Otherwise she’s gotta get out of town for a few months and I say anyone who leaves now is walkin’ straight into Hell froze over.”
“Certain death,” said Lily. “A woman would never make it.”
“Molly thinks you could do something for Sapphire,” said Rose skeptically. “Though neither she nor us is dogs.”
“I don’t want any operation.” Sapphire looked scared, ready to bolt.
“In your trade,” said Molly, “it could be the best guarantee of not having this ‘trouble’ in future. It worked for me. After my ‘operation,’ I couldn’t have a baby even when I wanted to.”
Meg frowned in consternation and pondered. “What exactly are you asking of me?”
“You neuter dogs,” said Daisy. “Sounds like these ladies want neutering.”
“No!” said Sapphire. “Just a potion. If you can’t give me a potion, I’m leaving.”
“I have no potions,” said Meg. She looked very serious. “They do not work. Believe me, I know from experience. And they could be poisonous. I learned that from medical studies. But I never learned how to do the ‘operation’ I think you’re asking of me. It is not taught in medical or vet school. I’m truly sorry Sapphire but I do not know how. I must tell you all.” She looked at each of them in turn. “I haven’t the knowledge or expertise to end a human pregnancy. Worse still, neither I nor all the medical texts there are can tell us women how to prevent one, for sure. The best they offer is ‘the rhythm method’ which …”
“Doesn’t work! Tell it to the men! Surest way to get trapped!” Meg was interrupted by a full chorus of rebukes.
“That’s what we used to call, in my time,” said Molly, “the fucking lie.”
All but Sapphire laughed.
“It’s something I want to study more,” said Meg resuming her seriousness. “This idea that human ovulation is the same as in mammals. It could be based on a false analogy. Dogs do ovulate when they show blood but maybe it’s wrong that women are the same as bitches …”
They all stared at Meg. Molly began to hoot with laughter.
“Time for breakfast,” said Daisy. “I’m starving. And Meg …” Daisy wrinkled her nose in disgust. “You better have something better than ‘human ovulation’ and ‘false analogy’ to offer our friends.”
“Beans,” said Meg. “Beans and tea. Let’s start with that, then see what else we can do for Sapphire.”
The Big Moose from Antigonish sat on the porch of his log cabin, his arms folded over his chest, his large torso pushed heavily against his tipped-back chair. He was wearing his winter sealskin parka but with the hood down and the front undone because it was not yet the winter temperatures of forty to sixty below freezing. Sometimes he stood up and stretched, then leaned against the railing by the steps. But he would not leave his post or talk with anyone who tried to engage him in a deal. Mid-morning, Meg and Daisy stopped in front of his cabin on their way to the rations line-up.
“Hello, Alex,” said Meg. “Daisy has a big poke of trash. Got any stores you want to trade?”
“No!” he said. “No deals in fear and desperation.”
“Wow!” said Daisy as they moved on. “What was that … seven words and one of them real big! Is he panic-stricken or what? The hoarder! He’s hiding it all away for himself.”
“I don’t think so,” said Meg. “He’s not a serious hoarder. He’ll sell when everyone calms down. He’s a decent man. And secretly very generous.”
“Oh yeah? How do you know that?”
“Father Judge told me. Alex gave a huge amount to the hospital. And you know the Catholic church Father Judge built …”
“No, I do not. You forget that I’ve been out of town. And I do not like missionaries.”
“I was taught in a mission school. And I think they’re all off their rockers.”
“But they gave you a good education?”
“One of them taught me a lot about his dick.”
“Oh Daisy, no!”
“Oh Daisy, yes! And you think you know more than me.”
Meg put her arm around Daisy’s shoulders.
“I warned you about doing that in public,” said Daisy, but did not push Meg’s arm away. “Tell me more about St. Alex.”
“The church burned down. On a Sunday, no less. It was heartbreaking for Father Judge.”
“Sounds like a message for him. Didn’t he get it?”
“No.” Meg laughed. “Everyone pitched in to help rebuild. And Alex quietly paid for most of it.”
Meg and Daisy took their place in the long line-up at the Alaskan Commercial Company. Only one day’s rations was being allowed. Healy was taking things a day at a time until it was certain what had happened to the supply boats. One cup of dried beans was the ration permitted for that day, September 27th.
“A cup of beans!” A woman was shrieking at the end of the line. “I’m not standing in line for a cup of beans!”
Mad Mitzi flounced past Meg and Daisy and everyone else to get to the front of the line. She lifted her purple velvet skirt, trying to keep it above the mud formed from thousands of boots trampling on partly frozen earth. Her chin raised, turning her head angrily this way and that, her blonde ringlets tossing from side to side, her fur cape billowing, she drew to a halt in front of Captain Healy. “I have money for more than beans!”
“Beans are all you get. And if you don’t get back in line, you’ll have none of them.”
Mad Mitzi wouldn’t deign to give him another word. She turned and gave him her back, flouncing off into town.
Daisy had told Meg about Mitzi coming frequently for meals and entertainment in Belinda’s saloon, usually with Anton. But sometimes not. She and Anton quarrelled, often. Mitzi would get bored or take umbrage at something Anton said. Then she would leave his table and drink at the bar, flirting and dancing with other men. Anton would react by drinking more, eventually grabbing her by the arm and demanding she go home with him. Usually this would excite her, make her turn her charms fully upon him and persuade him to waltz with her. Or she would turn on him with a temper to match his and demand that he leave her, forever. She would then rent a room at Belinda’s for a night or two. If Anton did not come and seek her forgiveness, she would go to his cabin and apparently obtain his.
“She is not pregnant?”
“Who knows,” said Daisy, “what she’s done with that act.”
When Meg and Daisy returned to their cabin with their two cups of beans, they found Mad Mitzi sitting at their table.
“Chérie!” Mitzi laughed and opened her arms to Meg. “At last we have a chance to talk! Oh, hello.” She turned briefly to Daisy, then back to Meg. “Your door was unlocked so I let myself in. Your dogs went crazy at the back door, scratching and howling like savages to get in. But I didn’t dare let them. They’re frightening as wolves. I don’t know why you keep them.”
“I’m not afraid of wolves,” said Meg.
“I’ll take them for a run.” Daisy went out the back door, slamming it loudly behind her.
“She’s not well raised, is she! Quite primitive. Mais, excusez-moi. She is your friend. I’ll say nothing against her.”
“There’s nothing to say. There is nothing bad about her. I love her like a daughter.”
Mitzi put her face in her hands. “Don’t remind me. Oh, the child I might have had.” She looked up with watery eyes and sniffed. “With Anton. He is such a handsome man! N’est-ce pas? But I must tell you Meg, he has a wicked temper. He gets drunk and turns into a fiend, I tell you. A fiend!” She covered her face as though to prevent the memory of it. Then she looked up at Meg, touched her arm sympathetically. “I know. I know, my innocent friend. He told me. You were once trés in love with him. But when he saw me dance, he … well, he begged me to come live with him.
“But really, my chérie, those miners’ cabins are dreadful. Dreadful places. I wanted to come back into town immediately. Immediatement! But then word came that a widow called Mrs. Elephant and her half-breed young sister, who looked like a wolf, had arrived in Dawson. Isn’t that comique!” Mitzi laughed. “I had no idea it was you. We had great laughs over the arrival of a Mrs. Elephant and her wolf. But then Anton wondered and became moody. It took all my wiles to extract from him that you had had a petite rendezvous in Vancouver. Still, we could not know that the widow Elephant was actually you, until we saw you in Belinda’s. But it was too late. Oh, chérie, I was with child. It was such a shock to see you and feel the inevitable, the inevitable tragedy of love’s triangle.” She clasped Meg’s arm.
“For heaven’s sake, Mitzi, where’s the tragedy? He simply chose you over me. There’s no tragedy. I’m still alive. And kicking.”
“Ah yes. But my heart, my mind, my body could not stand the conflict. The shock and conflict. I lost the child. Our love child. L’enfant d’amour. And with it went the perfect love that we had. We began to quarrel. Anton turned to drink. His beautiful, romantic nature, changed. We have had to part.” Mitzi drew in a sorrowful breath.
“When did you lose …” Meg felt herself gagging over Mitzi’s terms, “this love child?”
“Weeks ago, chérie. Tragic weeks ago. But you are right. It is time to recover. To kick up one’s heels. I need to live. And dance again. Do you have a drink? Let’s share some whisky. Drink to friendship.” Mitzi stood up, heading for the whisky cupboard she had already been into. “And then you must tell me how to get a meal in this wretched town. I have a room at the hotel but they have closed all the restaurants. Imagine! A city without restaurants. And they say this will be the Paris of the north. I think not, chérie. Je pense pas.”
“What does it mean,” said Daisy when Meg was recounting the scene to her, “je pense pas?”
“If I remember my French correctly,” Meg laughed, “it means ‘I don’t think.’ I believe she should have said, je pense que non. But her English is no better. How can you accurately call a conception, if there ever was one, that lasted only a number of days, a child? And a love child, for heaven’s sake! That was no l’enfant d’amour. I call that the oldest ploy in the books.”
“Ploy?” said Daisy, then stood up impatiently. “No don’t bother explaining that to me. I’ve had enough of your Mad Mitzi. She treats people like shit wipes. And you should not have shared your beans with her.”
“Ah but this is the Klondike. We leave our door open and share our food. Besides, she gave me a big gold nugget. Her parting gift. She’s leaving town.”
“Not even malamutes can eat gold,” said Daisy.
It was dark the next night, September 28th, when again the cry, “A boat! A boat is coming!” brought everyone running to Front Street. This time it was not a small craft, no canoe. It was the large bow of the Alaskan Commercial Company’s cargo boat, the Portus B. Weare. People and dogs crowded along the shoreline, encouraging its struggle against the currents and ice flows by lighting bonfires, waving, shouting, dancing up and down.
Captain Healy forced his way to the front of the crowd. “That’s our boat, boys!” he shouted. “Our supplies have come through. I told you! I knew they would. The Alaskan Commercial Company won’t let you starve, boys. Make way. Make way.”
People cheered and threw their hats into the air. The dogs howled and barked and leapt up on whatever was at hand. Jake sent Daisy stumbling into Meg. Those in the front ranks of the thousands whooping it up on the banks of the Yukon, saw Captain Weare of the Weare step forward to shake the hand of Captain Healy.
“Whisky and hardware!” They heard Captain Healy shouting. “What in God’s name has happened to all the food and clothing that was ordered?” His voice grew louder and angrier. “Circle City, what do you mean they took it from you at Circle City! This isn’t the high seas, my man. You’re a riverboat captain. Don’t tell me they’re a bunch of pirates at Circle. They’re just a few hopeless miners. And you let them take our supplies?”
Captain Weare’s replies could not be heard above the roar of Captain Healy and the growing rumble of the crowd along the banks.
“What do you mean you had no choice! I’ll give you no choice!” shouted Healy.
Captain Healy had to be bodily restrained from throttling Captain Weare in front of nearly four thousand witnesses. The full story came out and was bandied about from person to person as the throngs made their way back to the saloons or to their beds, hungry.
Meg sat in The Pioneer Saloon listening to the tales of what had happened. Other cargo ships were stranded for the winter in Alaska. But the Bella and the Weare had gotten farther upriver towards Dawson City. The Weare made it to Circle City, where it was boarded by a delegation of residents who pulled out their guns and forced Captain Weare and his small crew to stand aside while they removed food and clothing they wanted for getting through the winter. They then paid what they considered a fair price for the provisions they took.
Then Meg heard that Constantine, who had no jurisdiction beyond Fortymile, was seen waiting there for the arrival of the Bella. Because of the Yukon River freezing over, his request for reinforcement of supplies and officers had to be sent south, over the mountains, by dog sled.
“When it comes to the crunch, in the Klondike,” said Meg, who, like the others in The Pioneer, was fortifying herself on whisky, “meaning … when the way in and the way out gets frozen over, it’s the dogs we have to rely on, isn’t it? I want everyone to remember that, if the food runs out. We need our dogs!” She banged on the bar top.
Ike and Piji stomped in accord, hard as they could in their mukluks.
Next day, Dawson was a city with a hangover and growing fear. Some went to church and prayed. Others lulled about or carried on with chores of gathering wood and water, portioning their food, considering hiding or hoarding, sharing or selling.
Meg and friends were occupied trying to console and reassure Sapphire Star.
“The baby could be taken to an orphanage on the boats going out next summer.”
“If I knew the father,” said Sapphire, with a spark of anger. “I’d get him to take it to the Outside.”
“You can’t trust a man,” said Molly Doyle. “Specially when it comes to children.”
“Since you couldn’t be a mother,” said Daisy to Molly, “here’s your chance to be a grandmother.”
“You could make an honest child of it,” said Meg.
“And now that you’re so rich …” said Gypsy Rose.
“With a respectable occupation …” said Lily.
“Don’t you hurdy-gurdies think you can bamboozle me into something I don’t want to do,” said Molly. “First I’ve got to see what comes out, don’t I?”
Everyone hoped for a sighting of the Bella coming upriver, but none had the heart to stand and wait for it. And when the following day, September 30th, a man saw it churning through the ice at the bend of river, few believed him when he yelled, “I see it! I see it. The Bella, she’s a comin’ through.”
But when Meg heard the call, she started running, shouting, “Yukie, Jake, Daisy. Come on. Let’s go!”
They were in the forefront of the crowd. It was a more muted crowd, clapping hesitantly after the experience with the Weare, except for Meg, who cheered loudly when she spotted Constantine standing firmly at the helm of the Bella. As it came to a full stop at the dock, Constantine raised his hand for silence.
“Men of Dawson,” he shouted, “law and order will prevail. Discipline and co-operation are required. Due to misfortune and lawlessness beyond our borders, further provisions for the winter have been held up and confiscated. In other words, there will be no more grub coming our way by boat until spring. For those who have not laid in a winter’s supply, to remain longer is to court death from starvation, or at least the certainty of sickness from scurvy and other troubles. Starvation now stares everyone in the face who is hoping and waiting for relief from the Outside.”
There was no point in speaking further. The crowd had gotten the message. The Bella too had been waylaid in Circle City, a large part of its food stock “purchased” at gunpoint.
Men of Dawson shook their fists and kicked in the direction of Circle City. They shouted, murmured, stomped their boots, or trudged off in various directions. Constantine disembarked to maintain order and direct lines of action. “Welcome back!” Meg shouted and waved.
He looked in her direction. Nodded. Then determinedly went about his duty. He nailed a poster up on Front Street with the full text of his speech
His strategy was to thin out the pack, persuade those who should and could vacate to do so. They could board the Weare and Bella for their final voyage back down through Alaska to Fort Yukon and hopefully beyond to the seaport of St. Michael. It would be risky as any wolf setting off into the wilderness alone, but if he or she had no comfortable place staying within the pack, it was the thing to do.
Constantine hoped to reduce Dawson City by about one thousand. He had assessed that three thousand had the means and strength, or could be provided for, with a rational distribution of the supplies on hand.
Hansen ran around town, fairly jumping up and down, circling groups gathered on Front Street discussing what to do, and barking at them, “Go! Go! Flee for your lives.”
Calmer leaders of the community, like the collector of customs and the gold commissioner, reinforced Constantine’s directive by addressing people gathered on corners, advising them to take this last chance to escape starvation. To recent arrivals who had not yet staked a claim, set up a business, or put up anything more than a tent, this made eminent sense, except for the factor of losing face, giving up all hope of wealth or fame, and returning to the misery or boredom of the situation which had driven them over the mountains to the Klondike.
And then there was Captain Healy, who confused the deliberators by saying on the one hand that Hansen was a panicking fool, that there was enough grub to get Dawson City through the winter, but then adding, on the other hand, that he was offering the extremely reduced fare of fifty dollars to encourage anyone to board the Bella and get out of Dawson as quickly as possible. As a final push, Con-stantine then made the exodus option as attractive as he possibly could by offering free passage on the Bella along with five days allowance of food.
And so it was, the next afternoon, October 1st at 4 p.m., Meg and Daisy stood with others on Front Street watching the departure of the Bella. One hundred and sixty had received their five-day free food allowance and were to have boarded the ship. There had been much to-ing and fro-ing on the gangplank, but now it was quiet. The crowd was hushed. They watched Constantine having a few last words with the captain, saluting him, then marching, on the double, down the gangplank and onto the dock where he summoned Wiggins and the other officers who were maintaining order on the waterfront.
“Forty!” Constantine shouted, and in his indignation at the lowliness of human nature, informed the entire gathering: “Forty have absconded with their food allowance. They got on board. Took the five days food and ran off with it. Find them! We’ll find every one of them.”
But the departure could not be delayed. The ice was growing denser and the darkness gathering.
“I simply changed my mind. Get your hands off me!” It was the distinct voice of Mad Mitzi. She, plus two men, were brought forward as the gangplank was being raised.
“Face jail for fraudulent obtaining of government supplies or get back on the Bella,” Constantine yelled at them.
The officers held up the sacks of food that had been found on their persons, for the crowd to witness. The gangplank was lowered.
“Back aboard!” shouted the crowd.
Mad Mitzi held up her chin and raised her skirt as she stepped up onto the gangplank.
“You’ll be wanting this.” Constantine handed her sack of food back to her.
Mitzi opened her carpet bag and put the food back into it.
The gangplank raised, the Bella sounded her foghorn and set off in the currents. Her rudder got caught in the ice such that she was spun round and carried downriver stern first, until Captain Dixon could right her. Meg and Daisy had a last glimpse of Madeleine Mitzi Bonaparte standing at the railing waving to them, mouthing the words, “Au revoir, mes amies.”
It was late at night when Constantine knocked on Meg’s cabin door.
“Ah!” Meg stood aside to invite him in. “Our commander-in-chief. It’s good to see you.”
“I beg your pardon for calling in so late, but I saw your lamplight.”
“I couldn’t sleep. I was just reading.”
“You’re not afraid, like the rest?”
“We were all afraid for your safety. But apart from that, and my dogs’, no. And now that you are back, with law and order restored …” she smiled.
“What a weak and feckless lot,” he said removing his fur hat. “Turncoats every one of them, down at Fortymile. Hard to find an honourable man amongst them. But I guess I’m not much better myself.” He looked at his feet, briefly.
“Inspector Constantine. Weak and feckless, you are not.”
“I stepped over the line when I said goodbye to you. It was weak and dishonourable of me. A Mountie and a married man. I apologize.”
“You regret it? I don’t.”
“I must never do it again.”
“I see. All right. I’ll try to help you in that by not being too … feckless myself.”
“Thank you. I do enjoy your conversation. I hope …”
“Of course. Your view of the human race …” She smiled and kept her hands tightly to herself. “ … I must hear more of that.”
Constantine drew to attention. “There was a curious supply aboard the Bella. Came all the way from Halifax. Addressed to you. Did you order a hundred brooms?”