Part I of Another Alaska

Part I - Colony

***May 28, 1861***

A flock of savannah sparrows flew high overhead, a black cloud of specks against the piercingly clear blue sky. Captain Pavel Nikolaevich Golovin noted the recently-returned migratory birds briefly before continuing on along the deck of the Russian sailing ship Tsaritsa. He hoped that they heralded the ship's approach to its destination. Restless and thoughtful, the naval officer made his way to his cabin below-decks. The small, cramped room was dimly lit by a salt-encrusted porthole in one wall. The damp cabin, which smelled of a pungent combination of ocean spray and dried fish, had been his home for the past 22 days, ever since they had sailed north out of San Francisco Bay. Before that, he had passed his time in similar cabins in the boats that took him from Panama to San Francisco, and before that, from New York to Panama, and earlier still, from St. Petersburg, through the Baltic and across the Atlantic to New York. All in all, Captain Golovin had been at sea for nearly eight months. Though a career naval officer who loved the open water, Golovin was hard-pressed to contain his eagerness at nearing the end of the journey.

Pavel Golovin was tall and sturdy, and his immaculate uniform, erect posture and neatly trimmed black hair immediately betrayed him as a military man. Peering into the small mirror which numbered among his few possessions, the captain couldn't help but frown and notice that gray hairs had continued to replace the black ones along his temples, and that his close-cropped beard was streaked with silver. With a mental shrug he put such vain thoughts out of his mind and, more practically, drew out a sheaf of papers and a pen. He had taken several notes about the Tsaritsa already, but wanted to include a thorough examination of the Russian American Company's flagship in his report.

Captain Golovin had been sent on this fact-finding voyage by General-Admiral Constantine, brother to Czar Alexander II. His instructions: to analyze the operations of the Russian-American Company, to determine its profitability, and to come to some conclusions for the Naval Ministry as to whether the Company's charter should be extended or terminated once and for all. And so Golovin journeyed to New Arkhangel, known as Sitka in Alaska, on the other side of the world from home.

* * *

U.S. Secretary of State William Seward's desk was cluttered with paperwork. An inkwell was located precariously close to the edge of the heavy oak desk, and Seward dipped his pen to write a response to a letter. The corners of his thin mouth drifted downwards as he realized that he had misplaced the original. Glancing around, the Secretary of State sighted the paper on the opposite end of the table, reached for it - and caught the inkwell with his elbow, knocking it to the floor with a jarring crash. Cursing and sputtering, he bent over, returned the inkwell to the table, and called for his secretary to clean up the mess.

"John, come in here please."

The slim, young-looking secretary bustled in, set a whole new sheaf of papers on Seward's desk, and left the room to get rags to soak up the spilled ink. Seward finally reread the letter he had been reaching for, tired eyes moving from line to line, the frown never leaving his sharp, chiseled face.

It was the oft-cursed War that was taking all of his time.