remarkable people--not so diversified a lot as inflicted the _Lane_ a
year ago; there was a much higher average of respectability. First of
all, it was pleasant to know that members of the "nobility" were with
us--it gave us a "tone," so to speak. They included a couple of very
pronounced Englishmen, a Russian count, and a trio of Frenchmen, one of
whom, an inoffensive little fellow, monocled and dressed to kill, was
also a real live count. The combination lived in style and moderate
hilarity in the owner's room, and were scheduled to investigate their
large mining interests in Alaska. Then there was a great, strapping hulk
of a man, who wore a beard, long black hair which curled down over his
coat collar, and a benign smile; and who had a cheery word for every
one--of the type Munyon. He was reported to be the president of a mining
company also having "large interests in Alaska," but he was dubbed the
"Divine Healer," and was cursed out generally. As a rule, it is a safe
precaution to steer clear of individuals who talk about their "large
mining interests in Alaska" or who are "representing capital in the
East." A tall, spare man, who bore the marks of having been shot through
the cheek, was pointed out to me as one of the veterans of Alaska, and
the one who, in the palmy days of the Nome beach, with a simple
hand-"rocker" and two assistants, in twelve hours' work had made the
record, by taking from the ruby sands one hundred and twenty-seven
ounces of gold, or something over a thousand dollars' worth. This I
verified later. We had with us also "Blanche Lamonte," the actress, of
Klondike fame, and several other "fairies" and minor stars who had
decided to add luster to histrionic art at Nome. It was a series of
"concerts" which brought out, as it were, the _pieces de resistance_.
These delightful affairs--"to cheer us on our long voyage"--were due
mainly to the efforts of a tall, angular woman with short gray hair,
who hailed from New York, with a down-East twang, and who, representing
some newspaper, wanted a little spice for her article. She possessed, it
was said, some musical attainments, and had engineered a successful
entertainment the year before in so critical a metropolis as Nome. At
any rate, she was the self-appointed "ship's favorite," and she _could_
manage to get a good deal of animation from a little box-organ. Though
not a nightingale, this life of the ship would sing a few songs of her
"own composition,