I have calmed & can now comprehend that you did not set out to injure me with your words, but instead to share with me your truest pain.
I have not been so brave. I have kept things from you & you are right to question me. It was not from any lack of respect for you, for you possess more insight than many officers I have known. Nor is it shame on my part?—?I have endeavored to be good & decent even in the throes of warfare.
There have been grim days, though, I will say that now. At times it has been at my orders, even my own hand. Even within the bounds of order, morality can be hard found.
You asked me about the day with the telegraph machine. I will tell you now. I had accepted the surrender of a renegade band of Indians, with my promise that I would send them back to their reservation to be with their families if they agreed to our terms. Once the Indians were within my custody, however, I received orders from Washington, D.C., to march them to Florida, where they would be incarcerated in the dungeons of Fort Marion.
I did everything in my power, but my superiors were not to be persuaded. In the end, I was made to break my word. It sickens me all the more to know that many of the Indians, acclimated to the deserts of the Southwest, perished in their dank cells.
Can you understand my reticence now? Not only to be forced to recall the incident but then to speak of it? I would not cast such a shadow over you.
Yet I did a discredit to your fortitude. I should have remembered that you, too, have known grief. You are by no means na?ve or unwitting, yet somehow you still find beauty in each day. It is a gladdening thought, & one that saves me just now.
I am able to count on my hands the number of men I have left in the field, & now I come home without Lieut. Pruitt. He is well provisioned, improves in physical health. Yet I cannot be sure I do well by him. He is unsteady & irritable of heart. I leave him along the Yukon River, a land more tame than the Wolverine River, but this wild territory is still beyond our explanation.
I can find no means to account for what we have witnessed, except to say that I am no longer certain of the boundaries between man & beast, of the living & the dead. All that I have taken for granted, what I have known as real & true, has been called into question.
I am certain only of this?—?I come home to you in love.
Allen
Lieut. Col. Allen Forrester
August 2, 1885
St. Michael’s
We left Pruitt near Nulato. It seems a desolate outpost. I asked again if he would fare well alone, to which he replied that it was his last hope, as he could no longer find such hope in humanity. A gloomy answer indeed. Yet I see little choice but to honor his resignation. There were firm handshakes all around. I left him a spare pencil I still had in my possession. He thanked me. He also asked me to give his good wishes to Sophie.
Despite the unrest at Nulato, Tillman, Nataggi, & I then boarded the steamboat with little incident. We did, however, encounter some difficulty in enticing Boyo to come aboard.
Tillman, true to nature, was engaged in a fistfight with a white trader before the night was out. I suspect it had something to do with Nat’aaggi, though none of the parties involved would give explanation. Considering we are so near the end of our journey, I chose not to pursue the matter further.
We arrived this afternoon at St. Michael’s on Norton Sound, where we will wait for the revenue cutter. I hoped that I would find a letter from Sophie waiting for me, but there is none. I try hard not to think on it.
The young Mr. Troyer, the trading agent for the Yukon area, has welcomed us with much hospitality. Tillman & I have been given quarters in his home. Today was devoted to arranging back pay for Pruitt & additional supplies to be sent to him.
We now have little to do but wait for the revenue cutter. No one can provide an estimate on its arrival?—?it could be within days or as long as a month. Never have I been so anxious to return home. More than once I have pictured myself jumping into the cold gray waves to swim south.
St. Michael’s is a sparse settlement. There is but the Alaska Commercial Co. post, some small & weather-beaten houses, the old Russian church. Only a few outbuildings remain of the Russian fort. The way these structures are set out on this small point into Norton Sound, with long views in all directions over seascape & vast, treeless land, the ocean wind whipping at it, it is as if we have reached the edge of the world.
August 3
I read most of the day, catching up on a stack of newspapers in Mr. Troyer’s office. He must be an avid reader, Mr. Troyer, for every shelf & desktop is piled with newspapers & books.
Tillman & Nat’aaggi have wandered off together. The dog has chosen to sit at my feet while I read & I do not mind.
August 5