In the last part Beth was offered a business opportunity by a Fortuna banker to open a bakery. A permanent resettlement in Fortuna looked very tempting, especially since Ben was offered a pastorship. Then the Fortuna sheriff let them know that his inclination was to arrest Ben for the prison escape in the interest of keeping peace in Fortuna. He offered to make arrangements with the sheriff in Eureka (seven miles north) if they would leave Fortuna immediately. Ben and Beth prayed, sensing God’s calling to go to Alaska.

^^^^^^^^^^

“There’s a steamer just docking. Maybe another hour at the most,”

“What’s a steamer?” Beth asked.

“You know, a paddle boat like on rivers. They clad ‘em with iron, and as long as the sea isn’t too rough… Double hulled are the safest. They make some with screw driven propellers. Doubt any of those will come to Eureka.” Ben studied the dock and the bay, looking for ships likely to carry gold prospectors, the ones he would most expect to buy their horses and rig.

Soon enough a man dressed for night of the Chicago high life came up the dock from a schooner that might have rounded The Horn. The two women that trailed after him bore a presence that Ben was more than familiar with.

“Word has it your carriage and team are for sale,” he said to Ben.

Beth smiled at the prospect of a quick sale.

“Cost you,” Ben replied.

The man reached into his vest pocket.

“Oh, I’ll take cash, but the two girls, too.”

Beth’s eyes grew wide. It was all she could do to keep her mouth closed and ears open.

“I’ll use your money to take them south where they can get work as hotel maids, or restaurant help until they find nice young men that will marry them, start families.”

The women looked at one another, their eyes asking each other if that was possible.

The man returned his wallet and ordered the women to move along, quickening their step.

“Would you have?” Beth asked, wondering what they would do then.

“Would you approve?”

After a moment, she nodded yes, saying as much with her voice.

From the steamer came a young man that Ben recognized in spirit. “Missionary?” Ben asked.

“How’d you know?” he asked, a smile clear across his face.

Ben and Beth grinned.

“How much did they allot you for transportation?” Ben asked.

“$200.”

“Who is your mission field?”

“I’m headed for Indian reservations. I understand they are unchurched and the only thing they’ve ever been introduced to was by the Spanish.”

Ben nodded. “How much are you allotted for food and accommodations?”

“Another $200, and a hundred for incidentals.”

Ben looked to Beth who had an idea what Ben was considering.

“This team and wagon will get you to any reservation there’s a road to. It’s packed with all the camping gear you’ll need. I’m a mite bigger than you, but I’ll give you a couple changes of clothes. You can have it all for the $400. We were going to get that plus half again more from miners, but …

“And then you buy hard tack and jerky from a general store, a lot of it. Live with the Indians, learn their language. Eat what they eat. Fast when they have nothing. They might consider the horses your gift to them. But probably let you use them to visit other tribes. Unless they have eaten them.”

The young man had been nodding wide-eyed the whole time. He counted out the $400 while Beth went through Ben’s clothes to pack some into the carriage along with the gear.

After finally exchanging names, Ben gave him a last bit of advice. “Trust God and don’t compromise his principles. If you don’t know how to really pray, right now is the time; before you meet your first Indian. They might kill you, but heaven is worth it. Trust me.”

The young man’s smile momentarily vanished, but returned to mirror Ben’s.

Ben’s expression to Beth asked her belated approval.

“Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

They kissed.

“All right, then, Ben said, “let’s go see about transportation to Alaska.”

+++

The first mate scanned Beth up and down before answering Ben’s question. Ben understood that was the way of many of the coarse unsaved. He also knew that Beth lost none of her virtue by his looking. “You say you’ve schooner and barque experience, but no steamer. Ever work a locomotive of stationary steam engine?”

“Watched.”

“The first mate nodded. “I’m short-handed below decks. Make you a stoker.”

“Stoker?”

“Same as a fireman on a train. Shovels coal.”

“I’ll do it,” Ben said. “Here to Alaska.”

“I can give the little missus a double cabin for the price of a single.” Ben agreed, knowing the going rate for passage to the north country.

“Six hours on, six off. You clean up, eat and sleep in your six off. We’ll stop for most likely 24 hours in Seattle, same as here. I suggest you get some throw away clothes for working in, and both of you go get winter wear to take. Such is mighty dear up there.”

“Obliged,” Ben said. “All right if we put what gear we have on board?”
The man nodded once. “Tell whoever greets you on the plank I put you in C18. Be ready to work at four tomorrow morning.”

Ben agreed.

“Ben, it sounds like too much work.”

Ben smiled at her. “Let’s get this stuff on board and then like the man said, get some cold weather things.”

At four the next morning, Ben was shoveling coal, as others worked to get up a head of steam. Beth returned to sleep in their cabin.

They were soon Alaska bound.

+++

Ben’s first six hours of work turned out to be eight hours since the regular schedule was six to twelve and the twelve to six, repeated. Beginning his shift at four was on him. At his first break, he spent nearly an hour of it cleaning up and eating and sharing stories with Beth, his work, and her adventure of going to sea. Ben wished he could have shared the moments with her. His next tour of duty was six pm. He figured to eat substantially, and then when he got off at midnight, try to sleep at least four hours, a little more if possible.

It was difficult, but Ben was as observant as possible during his shifts of shoveling coal.

Ben was a child when the Sultana exploded in the Mississippi River. The end of the war and President Lincoln’s assassination kept the Sultana disaster from making the newspapers to any great extent. There were, however somewhere between a thousand and 1500 deaths. In some of his spare time while at college in St Louis, Ben read old reports of the disaster. What he remembered now, was that low water levels in the boilers was the main cause, although there were other contributors.

Ben had to ask, but once seeing the gauges, he tried to keep an eye on them. The Allysis was of the same design as the Sultana except that the Allysis was made of steel, not wood.

Finally in Seattle, Ben was exhausted and spent eight hours sleeping under Beth’s watchful eye.

It was five grueling days to Ketchikan and Ben had honored his commitment to work his way to Alaska. He and Beth stepped onto the gangway together. The walk was increasingly more difficult for both of them. By the time they reach the dock, they both knew the reason. Ketchikan was not their destination.

The first mate gladly extended their arrangement. Juneau was the next port, three more days and six more shifts.

Ben’s shift didn’t begin until they were well away from the Ketchikan dock, too far away to easily return to it. Entering the below decks, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light. As was his habit, he glanced to the gauges. All seemed normal, but not.

“Persons, get to shoveling. That’s not your concern.”

Ben peered closer at the gauge for boiler number one. At a glance, it appeared to match the other three. Close scrutiny and you could see that the boiler was empty of water, not full. Ben let out a scream, “Water! Boiler number one! Water number one!”

Ben knew that a sudden gush of water in a red-hot boiler could be catastrophic, but allowing it to burn without water was a certain explosion.

He managed to get the engineer to look at the gauge more closely. “Open the valve to number one! Everybody out! Out! Everybody out!” The engineer sounded the emergency alarm prompting the crew to begin lowering lifeboats.