In Search of a Siberian Klondike
by Washington Baker Vanderlip · English · Gutenberg #41237 · 313,881 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: In Search of a Siberian Klondike
Author: Washington Baker Vanderlip
Homer B. Hulbert
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Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK IN SEARCH OF A SIBERIAN KLONDIKE ***
IN SEARCH OF A
SIBERIAN KLONDIKE
AS NARRATED BY
WASHINGTON B. VANDERLIP
THE CHIEF ACTOR
and
HEREIN SET FORTH BY
HOMER B. HULBERT
ILLUSTRATED WITH
MANY PHOTOGRAPHS
[Illustration: Publisher's Mark]
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO.
1903
Copyright, 1903, by
THE CENTURY CO.
_Published, October, 1903_
THE DE VINNE PRESS
TO
"THE LITTLE MOTHER"
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. OUTFIT AND SUPPLIES
Rumor of gold in northeastern Asia--Plan to prospect through Kamchatka
and north to Bering Strait--Steamer _Cosmopolite_--Russian law in the
matter of liquor traffic--I make up my party and buy supplies--Korean
habits of dress--Linguistic difficulties 3
II. SAGHALIEN AND THE CONVICT STATION
AT KORSAKOVSK
Departure of the expedition--Arrival at Korsakovsk--Condition of
convict station--Freedom allowed prisoners, most of whom are
murderers--Wreck of the steamer and loss of outfit--Gold lace and
life-preservers--Return to Korsakovsk--Russian table manners--The
Russian's naïve attitude toward bathing--Some results of the
intermarriage of criminals--How Yankee shrewdness saved some
confiscated photographs--Pleasant sensations on being shaved by a
murderer--Predominance of American goods 20
III. PETROPAULOVSK AND SOUTHERN KAMCHATKA
Volcanoes of Kamchatka and the superstitious natives--The first
prospecting trip--Copper found, but no gold--Mosquitos cause an
evacuation of the land--The typical Chinese peddler 43
IV. SALMON-FISHING IN THE FAR NORTH
Tide that rises twenty-five feet--Wholesale suicide of salmon--
Fish-eyes as a delicacy for sea-gulls--How the natives store
fish for the sledge-dogs--The three varieties of salmon--An Arcadian
land for the birds 51
V. THE TOWN OF GHIJIGA
The sacred icon and the sewing-machine both in evidence--The native
"process of getting married"--Mrs. Braggin's piano--American
pack-saddles and Russian obstinacy--Theodosia Chrisoffsky and his
sixty descendants 64
VI. OFF FOR THE TUNDRA--A NATIVE FAMILY
Hard traveling--The native women--A mongrel race--Chrisoffsky's home
and family and their ideas of domestic economy--Boiled fish-eyes a
native delicacy--Prospecting along the Ghijiga 79
VII. TUNGUSE AND KORAK HOSPITALITY
My Korak host--"Bear!"--I shoot my first arctic fox--My Tunguse
guide--Twenty-two persons sleep in a twelve-foot tent--Tunguse family
prayers--The advent of Howka--Chrisoffsky once more 92
VIII. DOG-SLEDGING AND THE FUR TRADE
Description of the sledge and its seven pairs of dogs--The
harness--The useful _polka_--The start-off a gymnastic performance for
the driver--Methods of steering and avoiding obstructions while going
at full speed--Dog-trading _en route_--Dog-fights are
plentiful--Prices of sable and other skins in the native market--The
four grades of sables--How they live and what they live on--A Russian
writer on sable hunting--Days when a native would barter eighteen
sable skins for an ax 116
IX. OFF FOR THE NORTH--A RUNAWAY
My winter wardrobe of deerskin--Shoes that keep the feet warm when it
is sixty degrees below zero--_Plemania_, a curious native food in
tabloid form--Other provisions--Outline of proposed exploration about
the sources of the Ghijiga River--Four hours of sun a day--When dog
meets deer--A race for life and a ludicrous dénouement--More queer
native dishes--Curious habits of the sledge-dog 139
X. THROUGH THE DRIFTS
Sledging over snow four feet deep--Making a camp in the snow--Finding
traces of gold--A grand slide down a snow-covered hill--My polka
breaks with disastrous results--Prospecting over the Stanovoi
range 155
XI. BURIED IN A BLIZZARD
A trip to the northern side of the Stanovoi range of mountains--Nijni
Kolymsk, the most-feared convict station--Sledging by light of the
aurora--Lost in a blizzard on the vast tundra--Five days in a snow
dug-out--I earn a reputation as a wizard--Back at Chrisoffsky's 167
XII. CHRISTMAS--THE "DEER KORAKS"
I celebrate Christmas day with the over-kind assistance of two hundred
natives--Koraks as sharp-shooters--Comic features of a Russian
dance--Off for Kaminaw--Another runaway--Slaughtering deer--A curious
provision of nature--Eight families in one yourta--Korak method of
washing dishes--A herd of ten thousand deer 177
XIII. HABITS AND CUSTOMS OF THE KORAKS
The hour-glass houses--Their curious construction--The natives prove
to be both hospitable and filthy--Dialects of Dog Koraks and Deer
Koraks--Some unpleasant habits--How they reckon time--Making liquor
out of mushrooms--Curious marriage customs--Clothes of the
natives--Queer notions of a deity--Jealousy of the wandering
Koraks--Thieving a virtue and childbirth a social function 205
XIV. OFF FOR BERING SEA--THE TCHUKTCHES
The Tchuktches are the Apaches of Siberia--Their hospitality to
Americans and their hostility to Russians--Wherein my experiences
differ from those of Mr. Harry DeWindt--Result of licking a piece of
stone with the thermometer at 45° below zero--Konikly--Power of moral
suasion in dealing with a rebellious Korak--The cure of a dying woman
and the disgust of her husband--Poll-tax and the Tchuktches 224
XV. A PERILOUS SUMMER TRIP
The tundra in summer--Crossing the swift Paran River--Literally
billions of mosquitos--Unique measures of protection against these
pests--Mad race down the Uchingay River on a raft--Lighting a fire
with a pistol--Narrow escape from drowning--Fronyo proves to be a man
of mettle--Pak is caught stealing from slim supply of provisions and
receives chastisement--Subsisting on wild onions and half-ripe
berries--Help at last 255
XVI. A TEN-THOUSAND-MILE RACE
Persistent rumors of gold in the Tchuktche peninsula--Count
Unarliarsky--I am called to Vladivostok to fit out an expedition--Our
vessel arrives off Indian Point--Charging through the ice-floes--A
meeting with Eskimos--Our prospecting proves fruitless--We meet the
rival expedition in Plover Bay--Their chagrin--The end 292
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Washington B. Vanderlip _Frontispiece_
Map showing the territory covered by Mr. Vanderlip
in his search for a Siberian Klondike 5
Korean Miners 15
Market-place, Korsakovsk, Saghalien Island 25
Russian Murderers in Angle of Prison-House,
Korsakovsk, Saghalien Island 37
Main Street of Petropaulovsk, Kamchatka 45
A River of Dead Salmon--August 53
The Salmon Catch 57
Ghijiga 65
Russian Church, Ghijiga 71
House in Ghijiga occupied by Mr. Vanderlip and
his Party 75
House of Theodosia Chrisoffsky, Christowic 81
Start from Ghijiga, Summer-time. Theodosia
Chrisoffsky and Family--Fourteen Children 87
Village of Christowic, Okhotsk Sea 93
Mr. Vanderlip on "Bill" 99
The Pride of the Family 105
Mr. Vanderlip crossing Turumcha River 111
Sledge-dogs, showing Harness and Method of
Hitching 119
Mr. Vanderlip's Dog-sled loaded 125
Ghijiga River in Winter 129
Deer crossing River 141
Reindeer 145
Theodosia Chrisoffsky, Guide 151
Mr. Vanderlip and Reindeer Team. 157
Native Winter Camp 163
Mr. Vanderlip on March with Deer Outfit 173
Reindeer 183
Herd of Reindeer 189
Reindeer, Herders in background 195
Reindeer--Summer 201
Upper View of Underground Hut--Home of the
Dog Korak 207
Chinese Pump 213
One of the Tchuktches--an unconquered Race 227
Summit of Kamchatka--First Sight of Bering
Sea 233
Kassegan, half-caste Russian trader, and Korak
wife, living at Boeta, Baron Koff Bay, Kamchatka 239
In Crater of Extinct Volcano, digging for Sulphur.
Baron Koff Bay, Kamchatka 245
Killing Deer for Dog-food 251
Expedition on march--"Konikly" in foreground 257
Across the Tundra 261
Tundra Camp 267
"Kim" in Summer Camp on Tundra 273
Reindeer Feeding 279
Three Little Half-caste Russians and Native
Nurse, Ghijiga, Okhotsk Sea 287
Russian Miners 293
Picked up on the Ice off St. Lawrence Island 299
Natives at Indian Point, Siberia 303
Eskimo Village, East Cape--Northeastern Point
of Asia 307
Plover Bay, Siberia, in July 313
PREFACE
The following pages are the result of one of those delightful
partnerships in which the party of the first part had all the
adventures, pleasant and otherwise, while the party of the second part
had only to listen to their recital and put them down on paper. The
next best thing to seeing these things for one's self is to hear of
them from the lips of such a delightful raconteur as Mr. Vanderlip.
Whatever defects may be found in these pages must be laid at the door
of the scribe; but whatever is entertaining and instructive is due to
the keen observation, the retentive memory, and the descriptive powers
of the main actor in the scenes herein depicted.
H. B. H.
SEOUL, KOREA, December, 1902.
IN SEARCH OF A SIBERIAN KLONDIKE IN SEARCH OF A SIBERIAN KLONDIKE
CHAPTER I
OUTFIT AND SUPPLIES
Rumor of gold in northeastern Asia--Plan to prospect through
Kamchatka and north to Bering Strait--Steamer
_Cosmopolite_--Russian law in the matter of liquor
traffic--I make up my party and buy supplies--Korean habits
of dress--Linguistic difficulties.
When the rich deposits of gold were found on the Yukon River, and
later in the beach sands of Cape Nome, the question naturally arose as
to how far these deposits extended. Sensational reports in the papers,
and the stories of valuable nuggets being picked up along the adjacent
coast of Asia, fired the imagination of the Russians, who hoped, and
perhaps not without reason, to repeat the marvelous successes which
had been met with on the American side. The existence of valuable gold
deposits in other parts of Siberia lent color to the belief that the
gold-bearing belt extended across from America to Siberia, and that
consequently the Asiatic shores of Bering Sea ought to be well worth
prospecting.
No people were ever more alive to the value of mineral deposits than
the Russians, and none of them have been keener in the search for
gold. As evidence of this we have but to point to the vast,
inhospitable wilderness of northern Siberia, where gold has been
exploited in widely separated districts and under conditions far more
trying than those which have surrounded any similar undertaking, with
the exception of the Klondike.
I had left Chittabalbie, the headquarters of the Oriental Consolidated
Mining Company,--an American firm that is successfully exploiting the
gold deposits of northern Korea,--and being enamoured of a wandering
life, I found myself one morning entering the magnificent harbor of
Vladivostok, the eastern terminus of the Siberian Railway and the
principal Russian distributing center on the Pacific coast.
I believed that as the northeastern extremity of Asia was as yet
virgin ground to the prospector, there would be no better opportunity
for the practice of my profession than could be found in the town of
Vladivostok. The surmise proved correct, and I was almost immediately
engaged by a Russian firm to make an extended prospecting tour in
Kamchatka, through the territory north of the Okhotsk Sea and along
the shores of Bering Sea. This arrangement was made with the full
cognizance and approval of the Russian authorities. I carried a United
States passport. The Russians gave me another at Vladivostok, and
through the Governor-general at that place I secured an open letter to
all Russian magistrates in eastern Siberia, instructing them to give
me whatever help I might need in the procuring of food, sledge-dogs,
reindeer, guides, or anything else that I might require. Not only were
no obstacles put in my way, but I was treated with the utmost courtesy
by these officials, who seemed to realize the possible value of the
undertaking.
[Illustration: Map showing the territory covered by Mr. Vanderlip in
his search for a Siberian Klondike.]
My instructions were to go first to the town of Petropaulovsk, on the
southern point of the peninsula of Kamchatka, and explore the
surrounding country for copper. The natives had brought in samples of
copper ore, and it was also to be found in the beach sands near
Petropaulovsk, as well as in a neighboring island, called Copper
Island, where the Russians had opened up a mine some seventy years
before, but without success. I was next to go north to Baron Koff Bay,
on the eastern coast of the peninsula, near its neck, and examine some
sulphur deposits which were supposed to exist in that vicinity and
which the government was very desirous of working. From that point I
was to cross the neck of the peninsula by reindeer sledge to the head
of the eastern branch of the Okhotsk Sea, my objective point being
Cape Memaitch, where I was to prospect for gold. It had been reported
that on two successive years an American schooner had touched at this
point and carried away full cargoes of gold ore to San Francisco. I
was then to pass around the head of the Okhotsk Sea to the important
trading town of Ghijiga. This was the headquarters, some thirty years
ago, of the Russo-American Telegraph Company, with which Mr. George
Kennan was connected and where he spent one winter.
Making this my headquarters, I was to work out in various directions
in search of the yellow metal, and finally I was to use my own
judgment as to whether I should strike northeast to Bering Strait,
following the Stenova range of mountains, or southward to Ola, where a
steamship could stop and take me off the following summer. As we shall
see, the main points of this plan were carried out, though not in the
order here given.
As to the means for reaching Kamchatka I had no choice. There is no
royal mail steamship route to these boreal regions. A "tramp"
steamship is annually chartered by the great firm of Kunst and Albers
in Vladivostok, and rechartered by them to the Russian government, to
take the Governor-general on his annual visit to Saghalien and the
trading posts in Kamchatka, and even as far northward as Anadyr,
situated inland from Bering Sea on the Anadyr River. At each of these
trading posts is a Russian magistrate, or _nitcheilnik_, and a guard
of about twenty Cossacks. The annual steamer carries the supplies for
these officials and for the traders, as well as the goods which are
used in trade. On her return, the steamer brings back the furs of the
Russian Chartered Company, who hold all the furring rights of
northeastern Siberia.
In the summer of 1898 the steamer _Cosmopolite_ was scheduled to make
the annual voyage. She was a German tramp steamer of one thousand
tons. Besides the captain there was but one other foreign officer. The
crew was Chinese. In addition to the annual mails she carried a full
cargo of tea, flour, sugar, tobacco, and the thousand and one articles
that make the stock in trade of the agents of the Chartered Company.
She was allowed to carry no wines or liquors, with the exception of
sixty bottles of vodka for each trader, and that for his private use
only. He is strictly forbidden to sell a drop to the natives. For a
first offense he is heavily fined, and for a second he serves a term
of penal servitude on the island of Saghalien. This law is in
brilliant contrast to the methods of other governments in respect to
liquors. Africa and the Pacific Islands bear witness to the fact
that, from the standpoint both of humanity and mere commercial
caution, the Russian government is immeasurably ahead of other powers
in this respect. The sale of intoxicants demoralizes the natives and
"kills the goose that lays the golden egg." Of course there is an
occasional evasion of the law. The natives of Siberia are passionately
fond of spirits of any kind, and, having tasted a single glass, will
sell anything they have--even their wives and daughters--for another.
When they are in liquor a single wineglass of vodka will induce them
to part with furs which in the London market would bring ten pounds.
Besides this annual steamship, two Russian men-of-war cruise north
along the coast, looking for American whalers who bring alcoholic
liquors to exchange for skins.
I decided to take with me two Koreans from Vladivostok. They were
gold-miners from southern Siberia. Being expert horse-packers and
woodsmen and speaking a little Russian, they were sure to be of great
use to me. They were named Kim and Pak respectively; both are among
the commonest family names in Korea, the Kim family having originated
at least as early as 57 B.C. Kim was thirty years old and was
possessed of a splendid physique. He could take up four hundred pounds
of goods and carry them a quarter of a mile without resting. Koreans
are taught from childhood to carry heavy weights on their backs. They
use a chair-like frame, called a _jigi_, which distributes the weight
evenly over the shoulders and hips and enables them to carry the
maximum load with the minimum of fatigue. Kim was always good-natured
even under the most discouraging circumstances, and he was fairly
honest. Pak was thirty-eight, tall and thin, but enormously strong. He
enjoyed the possession of only one eye, for which reason I promptly
dubbed him "Dick Deadeye." He was a cautious individual, and always
"packed" his money in his clothes, sewed up between the various
thicknesses of cloth; and whenever he had a bill to pay and could not
avoid payment, he would retire to a secluded place, rip himself open,
and return with the money in his hand and a mysterious look on his
face, as if he had picked the money off the bushes.
Having secured the services of this precious pair, I promptly marched
them off to the store of one Enoch Emory to exchange their loose
Korean clothes for something more suited to the work in hand. This
Enoch Emory, by the way, is a character unique in Siberian history.
When sixteen years old he came out from New England as cabin-boy on a
sailing vessel which had been sent by an American company to establish
trading stations on the Amur. He left the vessel and went into one of
the company's stores. He now "owns" the company and is one of the
wealthiest merchants in Siberia. The company operates immense stores
in Nikolaievsk, Blagovestchensk, and Khabarovka, with a large
receiving store at Vladivostok. Emory always favors American goods and
sells immense numbers of agricultural implements and of other things
in the manufacture of which America excels. This is the only great
American firm in Siberia. Emory makes his home in Moscow and comes out
once a year to inspect his stores. He is a typical Yankee of the David
Harum stamp.
When my two protégés came to change Korean dress for American it was
difficult to decide just where the dress left off and the man began.
The Korean bathing habits are like those of the medieval anchorite,
and an undergarment, once donned, is lost to memory. Besides the two
Koreans, I engaged the services of a Russian secretary named Nicolai
Andrev. He was an old man and not by any means satisfactory, but he
was the only one I could get who knew the Russian mining laws and who
could make out the necessary papers, in case I should have occasion to
stake out claims. As it turned out, he hampered the movements of the
party at every turn; he could not stand the hard knocks of the
journey, and I was obliged to drop him later at the town of Ghijiga.
His lack of teeth rendered his pronunciation of Russian so peculiar
that he was no help to me in acquiring the language, which is not easy
to learn even under the best of circumstances. I was also accompanied
by a young Russian naturalist named Alexander Michaelovitch
Yankoffsky. As this name was quite too complicated for everyday use, I
had my choice of paring it down to "Alek," "Mike," or "Yank," and
while my loyalty to Uncle Sam would naturally prompt me to use the
last of these I forbore and Alek he became. He did not take kindly to
it at first, for it is _de rigueur_ to address a Russian by both his
first and second names, the latter being his father's name with
_vitch_ attached. This was out of the question, however, and he
succumbed to the inevitable.
So our complete party consisted of five men, representing three
languages. None of my men knew any English, and I knew neither Russian
nor Korean, beyond a few words and phrases. But before two months had
elapsed, I had, by the aid of a pocket dictionary, my little stock of
Korean words, and a liberal use of pencil and paper, evolved a triglot
jargon of English, Korean, and Russian that would have tried the
patience of the most charitable philologist.
The steamer was to sail in eight days, and this necessitated quick
work in making up my outfit. For guns I picked a twelve-bore German
fowling-piece with a rifle-barrel beneath, in order to be equipped for
either small or large game without being under the necessity of
carrying two guns at once; a Winchester repeating rifle, 45-90; an .88
Mannlicher repeating rifle; and two 45-caliber Colt revolvers. As
money is little used among the natives of the far North, it was
necessary to lay in a stock of goods to use in trade. For this purpose
I secured one thousand pounds of Moharka tobacco. It is put up in
four-ounce packages and costs fifteen rouble cents a pound. I procured
also two thousand pounds of sugar both for personal use and for trade.
This comes in solid loaves of forty pounds each. Next in order came
two thousand pounds of brick-tea. Each brick contains three pounds,
and in Hankau, where it is put up, it costs twelve and a half cents a
brick. It is made of the coarsest of the tea leaves, twigs, dust,
dirt, and sweepings, and is the kind universally used by the Russian
peasantry. I also secured one hundred pounds of beads, assorted
colors, and a goodly stock of needles, together with ten pounds of
colored sewing-silks which the natives use to embroider the tops of
their boots and the edges of their fur coats. Then came a lot of
pipe-bowls at a cent apiece, assorted "jewelry," silver and brass
rings, silk handkerchiefs, powder and shot, and 44-caliber
cartridges. The last mentioned would be useful in dealing with the
natives near the coast, who commonly use Winchester rifles. Those
further inland use the old-fashioned musket exclusively.
[Illustration: Korean Miners.]
For my own use I laid in a goodly supply of Armour's canned beef,
canned fruits, dried fruits, lime-juice, bacon, three thousand pounds
of beans, canned tomatoes, tinned butter, coffee, German beef-tea put
up in capsules an inch long by half an inch thick (which proved
extremely fine), and canned French soups and conserves. Besides these
things, and more important than all, I took two tons of black
bread--the ordinary hard rye bread of Russia, that requires the use of
a prospecting hammer or the butt of a revolver to break it up. This
was necessary for barter as well as for personal use.
Judging from my experiences in Australia, Burma, Siam, and Korea, as
well as from my reading of Nansen, I thought it best not to encumber
myself with any liquors excepting four bottles of brandy, which were
carried in the medicine-chest and used for medicinal purposes only. My
medical outfit consisted of four main articles, quinine, morphine,
iodoform, and cathartic pills. With these four one can cope with
almost anything that is likely to happen. The chest contained also
bandages, absorbent cotton, mustard leaves, a hot-water bottle, two
small surgeon's knives, and a pair of surgical scissors.
After a prolonged search for really good pack-saddles, I concluded
that such things were unknown in Siberia; so, calling in a Chinese
carpenter, I gave him a model of an Arizona pack-saddle, with
instructions to turn out a dozen at the shortest possible notice. I
proposed to teach my Koreans how to throw the "diamond hitch," but I
found later, to my humiliation, that what the Korean does not know
about packing is not worth knowing. Either Kim or Pak could do it
quicker and better than I. Two thousand years of this sort of thing
have left little for the Korean to learn.
Mining-tools were of course a necessity. Even in Vladivostok I could
not secure what I wanted. I therefore took what I could get. I
purchased drills, hammers, a crow-bar, a German pump which was
guaranteed to pump sand (but which I found later would pump nothing
thicker than pure water), a quantity of blasting powder called
"rack-a-rock," picks, shovels, wire, nails, and other sundries. The
Russian shovel is an instrument of torture, being merely a flat sheet
of iron with a shank for the insertion of a handle, which latter is
supposed to be made and fitted on the spot. As there is no bend at the
neck of the shovel, the lack of leverage makes it a most unwieldy and
exasperating utensil. As for the Russian pick, it has but one point,
and in its construction is clumsy beyond belief. Even the Korean picks
are better. I also carried a simple blow-pipe outfit, an aneroid, a
compass, gold-screens, and gold-pans, with other necessary appliances
for prospecting. These preparations were made very hurriedly, as the
_Cosmopolite_ was the only steamer going north during the season.
Tourists sometimes ask if it would not be possible to secure passage
on this annual steamer and take the trip along the coast to Bering Sea
and back. There is nothing to prevent it. The trip of three months,
stopping at ten or twelve points along the coast, could be made for
about three hundred roubles, a rouble representing fifty cents in
gold. But the trip would be of little value or interest, because, in
the first place, the natives bring down their furs to the trading
stations during the winter, when the ice makes traveling possible, so
that one would have very little opportunity of seeing anything of
native life, or of securing any of the valuable furs that come out of
this region each year. It would be impossible for the tourist to pick
up any good ones in summer. Outside of natives and furs, it is
difficult to see what interest there could be in such a trip, unless
the tourist is studying the habits of mosquitos and midges, in which
case he would strike a veritable paradise.
CHAPTER II
SAGHALIEN AND THE CONVICT STATION AT KORSAKOVSK
Departure of the expedition--Arrival at
Korsakovsk--Condition of convict station--Freedom allowed
prisoners, most of whom are murderers--Wreck of the steamer
and loss of outfit--Gold lace and life-preservers--Return to
Korsakovsk--Russian table manners--The Russian's naïve
attitude toward bathing--Some results of the intermarriage
of criminals--How Yankee shrewdness saved some confiscated
photographs--Pleasant sensations on being shaved by a
murderer--Predominance of American goods.
At six o'clock in the afternoon of July 22, 1898, the Governor-general
with his wife and suite, resplendent in gold lace and buttons, came
aboard in the rain. The anchor was heaved up and we pointed southward
toward the open sea, which is reached by way of a passage from half a
mile to three miles wide and twelve miles long. The shore on either
side bristles with armaments which, together with the narrowness of
the passage, make Vladivostok entirely impregnable from the sea.
There is a story, however, which the Russians never like to hear. One
morning, after a night of dense fog, as the sun cleared away the mist,
four big British men-of-war were found anchored within two hundred
yards of the city, and could have blown it skyward without a shot from
the batteries, being safe from the line of fire. Since then big guns
have been mounted to cover the inner harbor. Reaching open water, we
turned to the northeast and set our course toward the southern point
of the island of Saghalien, for the Governor-general was to inspect
the convict station of Korsakovsk.
Three days of uneventful steaming at ten knots an hour brought the
shores of Saghalien above the horizon. We saw a long, curved beach
backed by low-lying hills covered with fields and woodland. As the
place could boast no harbor, we dropped anchor in the open roadstead a
mile from shore. Our whistle had long since waked to life an asthmatic
little steam-launch, which soon came alongside. We forthwith invaded
her stuffy little cabin and she waddled shoreward.
As we approached the rough stone quay, we had our first glimpse of
Russian convict life. A gang of prisoners were at work mending the
seawall. Some of them wore heavy iron balls at their ankles, which
they had to lift and carry as they walked, else they dragged
ponderously along the ground. These balls would weigh about a hundred
pounds apiece. The convicts seemed to be well fed, but were
excessively dirty and unkempt. They appeared to be men of the very
lowest grade of mental development. It must be remembered that no
political convicts are confined on the island of Saghalien. They are
kept in the far interior of Siberia, where the chances of escape are
much less, and where there is no possibility of contact with others
than their own jailers. The convicts on Saghalien are almost all
desperate criminals. As there is no such thing as capital punishment
in Siberia, Saghalien is the terrestrial Valhalla of these doomed men,
a sort of ante-mortem purgatory.
We stepped out upon the quay and walked up into the town. The street
was about fifty feet wide, with a neat plank walk on either side. The
houses were all log structures, but not the kind we are accustomed to
associate with that name. The Russian makes the best log house in the
world. The logs are squared and carefully fitted together. The windows
are mostly double, and the houses, all of one story, are warm enough
to be habitable. The streets are lined with small shops and stores.
The entire population outside of the officials consists of convicts,
most of whom enjoy almost complete freedom within the limits of the
town. It gives one a queer feeling to walk through the streets of a
town and know that all the storekeepers, carpenters, blacksmiths,
clerks, butchers, and bakers are or have been desperate criminals.
This town of Korsakovsk contains about two thousand people, of whom
nine tenths are convicts.
I asked if I might inspect the prison, expecting a prompt refusal, and
was surprised when informed that I could go wherever I pleased.
Approaching the main entrance to the prison, I found the two heavy
gates off their hinges and the convicts coming and going at their own
pleasure. A sleepy Cossack was on guard, and he did not even challenge
me. The prison buildings were arranged around a large quadrangle. The
prisoners were talking, lying about at their ease, with a few at work
on little wood carvings.
I was astonished to see no prison bars anywhere, but after I had
looked about at my leisure, one of the officers took me in charge and
led me into another part of the grounds, where we found a sentry on
guard, armed only with a revolver. This guard took us in hand and
conducted us to a small building which appeared to be heavily barred.
Inside were rows of clean, dry, whitewashed cells, half a dozen of
which were occupied by convicts who had recently committed murder on
the island, and were about to be sent north to the dreaded coal-mines,
where they would be chained to wheelbarrows. These would be their
constant companions for seven years, night and day, summer and winter.
In the workshops the convicts seemed to be trying to do as little as
possible. They were making tools, hinges, horse-shoes, farming-implements,
and other simple ironwork. In another portion of the shops they were
making wagons and carts. Very many of the convicts are farmers, and
they seemed to be cultivating the surrounding fields with success. In
the main offices I found a dozen clerks smoking and drinking tea. They
were all convicts, most of them having dark crimes to their discredit.
Leaving the prison, we walked down the street and soon came to a
little stand, where bread and milk were being sold by a nice-looking
Russian girl. I asked on what charge she had been brought to
Saghalien. The officer interpreted my question. The girl laughed and
said that she had murdered her husband. She was twenty-three years
old.
We had arrived at ten in the morning, and, as we left at four in the
afternoon, my inspection of the town was necessarily brief, but enough
had been seen to give impetus to even a very ordinary imagination.
When we had all embarked again and the bell in the engine-room gave
the signal for starting, we were enveloped in a thick mist; but as we
had open sea before us and nothing, apparently, to fear, we drove
ahead at full speed through the dense fog, pointing southeast in order
to round the southern point of the island and make our way up the
eastern coast. We might have been more cautious had not the
Governor-general been in haste. As it turned out, we would have done
better to proceed more slowly; for shortly after eight o'clock, as I
was sitting at dinner with the captain and the first officer, we heard
the second mate on the bridge call loudly: "Hard aport! Ice ahead!"
The captain rushed to the bridge, and I made my way to the prow of the
boat. Peering through the fog in the failing light, I descried a low,
white line that looked like ice, behind which a great dark mass rose
high in the air. We had not begun to slow down yet, and almost
instantly we struck with terrific force, which threw me to my knees. I
scrambled to my feet and peered over the rail. I saw that the white
line was not ice, but surf, and the dark object behind it was a cliff
which towered hundreds of feet in the air.
[Illustration: Market-place, Korsakovsk, Saghalien Island.]
The utmost confusion prevailed among the Chinese crew and the Korean
stevedores. It looked as if there would be serious trouble. I made my
way as rapidly as possible to my state-room and buckled on my
revolvers, tore my valise open and stuffed a package of money into my
pocket, and hurried on deck to help put down any rush that the
Asiatics might make for the boats. The first officer was sounding the
forward well, and water was already coming into the engine-room. The
steamer, evidently, was making water very fast. As there were so few
foreign officers, and as the Russians were of no use, the captain
ordered me to get out the boats. Amid such confusion this was no easy
task, but by means of the most sanguinary threats and the show of my
revolver, I got enough men together to swing a boat over the side.
Fortunately, there was no sea running at the time, and affairs began
to assume a more hopeful aspect when it was found that we lay on a
shelving beach and could not sink. We hurriedly supplied the boats
with casks of water and bags of biscuits; but as there was no
immediate danger of sinking, the captain asked me to take one of the
boats and explore the shore for a suitable landing-place. With a
strong headlight in the prow, we pushed off in the fog; and within an
hour we were back with the news that half a mile up the shore there
was a good landing-place. The Governor-general and his wife and staff
were, of course, the first to be sent ashore. The lady seemed to take
it very coolly, even more so than some of the staff. The latter, as
soon as the alarm sounded, had hastened to their state-rooms and put
on their swellest regimentals. Their gold lace, glittering swords,
and patent-leather boots seemed curiously out of place on board the
wreck. It reminded me of the ancient Persian custom of going into
battle in full regalia. These Russians left everything but their fine
clothes.
In due time they were landed, and then we came back and took off the
crew. It was growing light and the sea was rising. The steamer began
to pound on the reef, and it was evident that she would not hold
together long. The captain said he was going to stay on her till she
broke up. As I was an enthusiastic knight of the camera, I thought
this would be a good opportunity to secure a picture of a ship going
to pieces, so I determined to stay with the captain as long as
possible. We remained on board all that day and the next two, taking
watch, by turns, six hours at a time. We determined to rig a block and
tackle over the after hatch, and although this was under water, we
managed to get hold of the big Russian mail-bags and haul them out.
Among other things, they held fifteen thousand roubles in notes.
During the second day of our detention we sighted the British gunboat
_Archer_ passing us to the southeast on her way to Kamchatka. We tried
desperately to attract her attention with bombs, but did not succeed.
Meanwhile, the chief officer had taken the long-boat and part of the
crew and sailed back to Korsakovsk with a fair wind, to secure help.
Three days later, he returned with the steam-launch and two lighters,
one of which was filled with convicts who had been brought to help in
getting the steamer off the rocks, if possible. If not, they were to
save what cargo they could. They were put into the forward hold and a
few cases were gotten out, but all my provisions and outfit were lost
except my tent, which had been sent ashore for the Governor-general's
wife. This, together with my valise, camera, guns, and ammunition, was
all that I had to show for the careful preparation I had made.
My Russian friends had not enjoyed their stay on shore under the
trying conditions. We threw overboard for their use all the ducks and
geese, which, after disporting themselves a few minutes in honor of
their new-found liberty, made their way to the shore, where they were
speedily despatched with axes by the gentlemen in patent-leather boots
and gold lace. We also consigned a pig to the vasty deep and it nobly
struggled ashore only to meet the common fate of succulent pork.
Through the glass I could see the Governor-general in his swell
regimentals with a row of medals across his breast lugging an armful
of driftwood along the shore to the fire.
And so we made our way back to Korsakovsk, a very discouraged and
bedraggled company. The Governor-general took me to the house of the
chief magistrate, where I was given a comfortable room, and could once
more sit down to a good table. That night I ate my first genuine
Russian dinner. Each person as he enters a dining-room, faces the icon
which hangs in the corner, and bows and crosses himself. The table was
loaded with tinned preserves, pâté de foie gras, caviar, salted
salmon, herrings pickled, and raw fish, sardines, cheese, sliced raw
onions, cold sausages, raw cabbage, and huge piles of black and white
bread. There was also the usual large carafe of pure white vodka, a
powerful distilled liquor made from rye. Before eating, every glass is
filled and the host's health is drunk to the accompaniment of "Butches
sd rovia," which means, "Your good health."
In eating, you must reach for what you want. It is very seldom that
anything is passed during this first stage of the meal. You would
never suggest to your neighbor on the right to pass you the cheese;
but you would rise in your place and, with a firm grasp on your knife,
reach over his plate and impale the tempting morsel. If this is not
possible, you leave your place and go around the table and secure your
loot. There is only one thing that they will readily pass, and that is
the vodka. The general aspect of things is that of a well-patronized
free-lunch counter when the train is to start in five minutes. It must
be confessed that Russian table manners are not fashioned on ordinary
European models. They closely resemble the Korean method of eating at
a public feast, when all the food is put on the table at once.
It is a mistake to suppose this terminates a Russian dinner. It has
only begun. By this time the uninitiated is full to repletion unless
he has been forewarned, but to the Russian this is but the
ante-prandial overture. Everything is now cleared off the table except
the vodka, which is never out of sight, and the dinner proper begins
with soup. I must say that this soup is the heaviest and richest it
has ever been my fortune to taste. Alone, it would form a full meal
for any one less robust than the ordinary Russian. Each guest adds to
his soup two or three heaping spoonfuls of sour whipped cream.
Their method of eating soup appeals as much to the ear as to the eye.
Perhaps they go on the principle that soup must be eaten as audibly as
possible, for this means that it is so good you cannot wait for it to
cool.
My Russian naturalist, Alek, was a fair sample of an educated Russian,
and he turned to me and said:
"I see that you eat with a fork."
"Yes," said I; "and I see that you do not."
"No; but I had a sister who studied at an English convent in Japan for
a year or so. When she came back she ate with a fork, but we soon
laughed her out of it."
The end of the Russian knife is broader than the portion next the
handle, and it is used both as a knife and as a spoon. They complain
that the American knives do not "hold" enough.
After the soup came fowls, roast meats, vegetables, and two or three
more dishes made of whipped cream. These last one grows to like. Their
favorite form of dessert is this same sour cream, sprinkled generously
with sugar and ground cinnamon. When all is seemingly over the table
is again cleared, and the samovar is placed steaming upon the table.
Every one takes four or five glasses of hot tea, flavored with sliced
lemon. Some of the Russian tea is very fine. It is well known that
they drink the costliest as well as the cheapest grades. It is more
than likely that not a pound of the very best tea grown in China ever
gets farther west than Russia.
Meanwhile every one is smoking cigarettes, men and women alike; not
only after dinner but between the courses.
My use of the fork was not the only thing that distinguished me while
in the country of the White Czar. Wherever I went, the Russians were
highly amused at my use of the tooth-brush, which they consider a
peculiarly feminine utensil. I was everywhere embarrassed by the total
absence of the wash-bowl. Such things seem to be unknown. A sort of
can or ewer of water, with a valve in the bottom, lets out a little
stream of water on the hands; or, oftener still, a mouthful of water
is taken from a glass and spurted over the hands--a much more sanitary
method than the American, since the Russian does not wash in any
vessel which has been used by others. The Russian objects to any bath
excepting the elaborate Russian bath, and as this can be obtained only
in the centers of population, the result is not edifying. Even on the
steamer, where hot and cold baths could be had for the asking, the
bath-room was not patronized. The Russians say of the English and
Americans that they bathe so much that they emit an offensive odor,
which turns the tables on us somewhat surprisingly and casts some
doubt upon the truth of the proverb that virtue is its own reward. As
black, the most somber of all colors, is in truth a lack of all color,
so perhaps the lack of any distinctive odor in the well-tubbed
Englishman strikes the Russian as unpleasant.
One of the waiters in attendance was a young and handsome man of
twenty-five, convicted of murder. He was dressed in the picturesque
costume of the Cossack, and, strangely, wore a dagger at his side.
The woman who brought in the samovar had killed an entire family: her
husband, father-in-law, mother-in-law, and her own child. She had been
married to the waiter a year since arriving at Saghalien. The
intermarriage of criminals raises a delicate penological question,
considering what the fruit of such unions is likely to be.
After dinner, I suggested to one of the Governor's aides that we take
a stroll, but the local magistrate vetoed this, saying that on no
account must we go out on the street after six o'clock in the evening.
Our lives would be in immediate danger, as murders among the convicts
averaged one a day on Saghalien. Hundreds have broken away and escaped
into the interior of the island, living on game, roots, and berries.
Some roam the streets at night, looking for plunder, especially when a
steamship is in harbor.
The following day we passed a building which seemed to be full of
women. They were convicts recently landed. On stated days, those male
convicts whose conduct has been uniformly good are taken to this
building where the women are lined up and the men are allowed to
choose wives for themselves. The women are quite willing to be chosen,
but if they refuse they are not compelled to marry. Marriage means
that they get away from the confinement of the workshops and gain a
snug little home among the neighboring hills, with nothing to suggest
penal conditions except an occasional inspection. If they consent to
marry, they go immediately to the little cathedral and are married by
the priest. A plot of land is allotted to the couple, to clear and
cultivate. Possibly a horse, a cow, and a few chickens are given them,
as well as the inevitable samovar. Our saying, "What is home without a
mother?" might well be rendered in Russian, "What is home without a
samovar?" All the money that they can make by raising produce is their
own, and will be turned over to them upon the expiration of their
sentences. But most of the convicts on Saghalien have sentences which
terminate only at death.
The women in the prisons are kept busy making clothes for such
convicts as have not been let out on good behavior.
The following day I was invited to attend, at the Greek Church, a
service of thanksgiving for the escape of the passengers and crew of
our wrecked steamer. The service proved a very impressive one. The
singing, by a choir of convicts, was especially fine. In these Russian
churches seats are not provided, and the audience stands or kneels
during the entire service.
That afternoon I had the temerity to take my camera under my arm and
stroll through the prison grounds. To my great surprise, I was
permitted to take what photographs I pleased. Even the guards lined up
and were "snapped," much to their delight. I also secured a picture of
a convict being knouted for some slight misdemeanor. This is very
common, and is done by tying the offender to a bench, face down, and
inflicting the necessary number of blows on his back.
[Illustration: Russian Murderers in Angle of Prison-House, Korsakovsk.
Saghalien Island.]
As the light began to fail I remembered the magistrate's injunction
about being indoors before dark, and so made my way home to dinner,
during which I sat at the same table with the magistrate. He was a man
of considerable ability, and made good use of the English language.
During the meal he leaned over toward me and said, smiling:
"I understand you have been taking some pictures."
"Yes," I answered penitently.
"Well, of course that is against the law, and I am afraid I shall have
to ask you to turn those plates over to me."
I expostulated mildly, but found that his mind was firmly made up on
the matter. To tell the truth, my mind was also made up on the matter.
"But," said I, "the plates are still in the camera, undeveloped."
"Oh, well, bring your camera along and I will develop them for
you,"--this with a little smile of amusement.
"Shall I go now," said I, pushing my chair back from the table,
although dinner was not half over.
"Don't think of it. To-morrow morning will do just as well."
And to-morrow morning surely did, for that night the camera went to
bed with me, and when the magistrate smilingly drew out the plates
next morning and cracked them, one by one, on the corner of the table,
he was not aware that he was spoiling fresh plates. I tried to look as
sad as the occasion seemed to demand.
I asked him if any of the convicts ever escaped from the island. He
gave a short laugh and said:
"Some of them got away once. I will tell you about it. A Japanese
fishing-schooner put in here under stress of weather and anchored off
the town. That night eight of the convicts swam off to her, murdered
the crew, and sailed away without the slightest knowledge of
navigation. After drifting about aimlessly for several days, they were
picked up by an American whaler and carried to San Francisco. As soon
as the facts became known, the Russian authorities demanded their
extradition, but the American papers took the matter up and made a
great outcry about sending back these innocent political convicts to
the horrors of Siberia, while the ladies of San Francisco heaped
confections and flowers upon them. The United States authorities
declined to give them up, though it should have been well known that
no political suspects are ever sent to Saghalien, only tried and
condemned criminals. But mark the sequel. Within two years all but one
of those eight men were hung for murder, and the remaining one was in
prison for life. We appreciate the kindness of the United States in
relieving us of the support of these criminals, and she can have all
the Russian convicts on the island of Saghalien if she wants them, and
welcome."
Saghalien is Russia's gallows, and the incident given above shows how
philanthropic zeal, if ill-informed and misdirected, may easily work
harm.
Having occasion to interview the barber, I entered a neat shop in
company with a Russian official. It was not till the razor was playing
about my chin that I learned that the barber was a common murderer.
There was no backing out, for I knew not what savage instincts I might
arouse in him by proposing to leave his place half shaved. I generally
manage to get a nice little nap when under the soothing influence of
the barber's hand, but this time I confess that I remained rather
wider awake than usual. The gentle reader can, perhaps, imagine my
feelings as the keen steel rasped across the vicinity of my jugular
vein. Strange to say, the only image that remains in my mind's eye is
a staring advertisement which hung against the wall, and which
expatiated with Yankee modesty upon the merits of a certain American
barber-supply house and the unique opportunity it offered of securing
the best goods at the cheapest price. I was informed later that this
barber combined with his tonsorial occupation that of procurer, which
shows how wide a range of pursuits Russia allows her convicts.
A superficial examination of the various shops which lined the main
street of the town showed that American canned goods, sheetings,
prints, flour and other food-stuffs are most in demand. The hardware
was mostly of cheap German manufacture. I saw no English goods
displayed.
CHAPTER III
PETROPAULOVSK AND SOUTHERN KAMCHATKA
Volcanoes of Kamchatka and the superstitious natives--The
first prospecting trip--Copper found, but no gold--Mosquitos
cause an evacuation of the land--The typical Chinese
peddler.
Upon our return to Korsakovsk from the wreck, the Governor-general had
immediately telegraphed the news of the disaster to Vladivostok, and
had asked that a relief steamer be despatched at once. In six days we
saw her smoke on the horizon, and soon the _Swatow_, flying the German
flag, cast anchor off the town. She was accompanied by a Russian
gunboat, which carried the Governor-general and his suite back to
Vladivostok, as he had been recalled on urgent business.
I found that the _Swatow_ would not be able to go up into Bering Sea,
but could only visit the trading stations on the Okhotsk Sea, at the
head of which lies the important town of Ghijiga. Although my outfit
had been so terribly depleted in the wreck, I was determined to push
on and live on the country if necessary. The steamer had brought me a
small supply of brick-tea, sugar, and hard bread. This slender store I
supplemented as best I could from the shops in Korsakovsk, and boarded
the _Swatow_ en route for the north.
On leaving Saghalien for the second time, we gave the southern point
of the island a wide berth, and after ten days of uneventful steaming
we sighted the shores of the peninsula of Kamchatka, which showed a
chain of lofty snow-covered mountains, now and again hidden by dense
banks of fog.
We entered the magnificent harbor of Petropaulovsk by way of a narrow
passage, and found ourselves in a landlocked bay, twenty-five miles
long and ten miles wide. Its shores were well wooded, and we could see
several fine streams as they made their way swiftly down the
mountainsides to the waters of the bay. At the northern extremity of
the harbor rose the active volcano of Avatcha, sixteen thousand feet
high from the water's edge. About its summit lay heavy masses of snow,
and above it hovered a thick blanket of smoke. Kamchatka lies in the
line of volcanic activity which stretches from Tierra del Fuego in
South America northward through South and North America, the Aleutian
Islands, Kamchatka, the Kurile Islands, Japan, and so southward; and,
therefore, it is not surprising that there should be many
semi-active volcanoes on the peninsula as well as many hot springs.
The natives consider both of these the habitations of evil spirits,
and will not go near them if it can be helped. Once a party of
Russians forced the natives to show them the way to one of the hot
springs, and when the superstitious people saw the foreigners looking
over the edge of the spring, tasting of the water and cooking eggs in
it, they were filled with wonder, and thought the Russians had power
over the demons. In port we found the British gunboat _Archer_ and a
small Russian gunboat.
[Illustration: Main Street of Petropaulovsk, Kamchatka.]
The town of Petropaulovsk consists of about three hundred Russians and
half-caste Kamchadales, presided over by a Russian magistrate,
assisted by a secretary, a physician, and twenty Cossacks. With the
exception of an imposing cathedral, the houses were all built of logs
and one story in height, but they were neat and substantial, and were
provided throughout with double windows, which are required by the
severity of the winter.
At that season of the year the country was covered with a luxurious
growth of vegetation. Of trees, so called, there are only the larch
and birch, but the whole country is covered with a dense growth of
underbrush, ten feet high, which it is impossible to penetrate.
Consequently, very little traveling is done in summer, except on the
rivers in small boats. Most of this undergrowth dies down at the
approach of winter, and the snow which then covers everything makes
traveling comparatively easy in any direction.
As our steamer was to make a little side excursion of ten days to
different trading ports in the vicinity and then return to
Petropaulovsk, I determined to remain behind and explore the region in
search of copper deposits, which had been reported to exist in the
vicinity. I secured a stanch little skiff built in San Francisco, and
after stowing away my tent in the bow I started out to prospect along
the beach. For the most part, I walked while the Koreans rowed the
boat a little offshore, keeping always within hailing-distance. I
carefully examined the mineral formations along the shore. About five
miles from the town, I came across numerous pieces of copper "float"
(detached fragments from the parent ledge). Striking up the hill above
the point where this "float" lay, I found the outcroppings of a thin
seam of bornite, which is a valuable copper ore if found in
quantities. But the thinness of the seam was not promising; so I
simply set up a claim post, which would hold it for three years, with
a view to further exploration.
When night closed in, which in that northerly region in summer does
not occur till nearly ten o'clock, we pitched our camp beside a
brawling mountain stream, prepared our supper, and felt sure of
passing a comfortable right. But within ten minutes we were
undeceived. The mosquitos came down by the millions, and we
surrendered at discretion, capitulated with the honors of war, went
out with colors flying and side-arms on, so to speak, and spent the
night in the boat, anchored some fifty yards from the shore.
It is not necessary to follow the fortunes of this little side
excursion, as it did not result in finding any evidences of valuable
deposits of copper. So at the appointed time we found ourselves back
at Petropaulovsk, ready to resume our journey toward the north. We
found the _Swatow_ in port and scheduled to sail the next morning.
The anchor came up at dawn, and before night we lay again at anchor at
the mouth of the Tigil River, on the western coast of the peninsula.
We found most of the population of the little village of Tigil
awaiting our arrival. This village, composed of a mixed Russian and
half-caste population, lies about forty miles up the river; but the
villagers had all come down to the coast to meet the steamer, to fish,
and to get away from the mosquitos, which are far worse inland than on
the coast. They were all living in little temporary summer huts.
The first person I met as I stepped ashore addressed me in good
western American. He was Mr. Fletcher, a Russian subject, born in
Kamchatka of mixed American and Russian parentage. He had been
educated in San Francisco. He invited me to his little cottage and set
before me a tempting meal of fresh milk and blueberries, supplemented
by raw, salted and smoked fish, vodka, and the contents of the
steaming samovar. After doing honor to these good things, we strolled
down to the beach to watch the Chinese sailors from the steamer lay
out the little stock of goods that they are allowed to bring with them
to barter with the natives. The thrifty Celestial spreads a piece of
canvas on the ground, and on it arranges in the most tempting manner
his stock of hand-mirrors, needles, buttons, soap tablets, perfumery,
and other articles de luxe. A bevy of native girls crowd about him,
giggling and chaffing, while men elbow their way in to buy presents
for their sweethearts, paying for them in deerskins, fur gloves, and
smoked deer tongue.
Meanwhile the steamer has been busily discharging the quota of flour,
tea, vodka, and other things which are required by the officials and
traders of the station, and in return loading the bales of skins and
furs consigned to the Russian Chartered Company.
CHAPTER IV
SALMON-FISHING IN THE FAR NORTH
Tide that rises twenty-five feet--Wholesale suicide of
salmon--Fish-eyes as a delicacy for sea-gulls--How the
natives store fish for the sledge-dogs--The three varieties
of salmon--An Arcadian land for the birds.
Leaving the mouth of the Tigil River, we steamed northward into the
upper arm of the Okhotsk Sea. The shore line showed rolling hill and
mountain country without much timber. Three days of steady steaming
brought us to the extreme limits of the Okhotsk Sea, at the mouth of
the Ghijiga River. Owing to the shallowness of the water, we were
obliged to anchor eighteen miles off shore. We had on board a small
steam-launch, for use in towing the lighters to the shore, each
lighter carrying about twenty-five tons. The launch and lighters were
soon put over the side and their cargoes loaded into them. At ten
o'clock at night we set off toward the shore. It was necessary to
start at that hour in order to get over the bar at flood-tide. We
entered the mouth of the river at three in the morning. The sun was
already up. The width of the estuary was considerable, but it was
enormously increased by the tide, which rises twenty-five feet and
floods the fields and plains on either side. The air was literally
full of sea-gulls, flying very high. Some of them were going inland,
and some out to sea. The odor of decaying fish was almost
overpowering, and was plainly perceptible five miles out. This was
caused by the enormous number of dead salmon that lay on the bar,
having been swept down the river.
About the tenth of June the salmon come in from the sea and work their
way up the river until the lack of water bars their further progress.
Salmon do not run up these rivers until they have attained their sixth
year of growth. From the moment they enter the fresh water of the
river, they get no food whatever. For this reason they must be caught
near the river's mouth to be in good condition. The female, having
gone far up the river, finds a suitable place, and deposits her eggs;
after which the male fish hunts them out and fertilizes them. As soon
as this has been accomplished there begins a mad rush for death.
However many millions of salmon may run up the river, not one ever
reaches the sea again alive. They race straight up the river, as if
bent on finding its source. When the river narrows down to two hundred
feet in width, and is about a foot deep, the fish are so crowded
together that the water fairly boils with them. And still they
struggle up and ever up. One can walk into the water and kill any
number of them with a club. After the fish have gone up the river in
this fashion for fifty or sixty miles, they are so poor that they are
worthless as food, for they have been working all this time on an
empty stomach. As they fight their way up, they seem to grow wilder
and wilder. Whole schools of them, each numbering anywhere from a
hundred to a thousand, will make a mad rush for the shore and strand
themselves. This is what the gulls have been waiting for. They swoop
down in immense flocks and feast upon the eyes of the floundering
fish. They will not deign to touch any other part. Bears also come
down the river bank and gorge themselves. I have seen as many as seven
in a single day, huge black and brown fellows, feasting on the fish.
They eat only certain parts of the head, and will not touch the body.
They wade into the water and strike the fish with their paws and then
draw them out upon the bank. Wolves, foxes, and sledge-dogs also feast
upon the fish, and for the only time during the year get all they
want.
[Illustration: A River of Dead Salmon--August.]
As the fish get further and further away from the sea, their flesh
grows loose and flabby, the skin sometimes turning black and sometimes
a bright red. They dash themselves against stones, and rub against
the sharp rocks, seemingly with the desire to rub the flesh off their
bones. The eggs of the salmon remain in the river during the winter,
and it is not until the following spring that the young fish are swept
down to the sea by the spring floods.
Along the banks of the river live the half-breed Russians and the
natives in their miserable shanties and skin huts. They fish with long
nets made of American twine. Fastening one end of the net to a stake
on one side of the river, they carry the other end to the opposite
side. In an hour or more, the farther end is brought back with a wide
sweep down stream, which, of course, is the direction from which the
fish are coming. The two ends are brought together, and a team of a
dozen sledge-dogs hauls the net to the bank. The children kill the
fish with clubs. Then they are carried to the women, who squat upon
the sand, and, with three deft sweeps of a sharp knife, disembowel
them, and cut off the thick pieces of flesh on each side of the
backbone. These pieces are dried in the sun and form the chief article
of food among this people. It is called by them _yukulle_. The
backbone, the head, and the tail, which remain after the meat is cut
off, are then dried, and they form the staple food for the
sledge-dogs.
After they have cut up enough fish for one year's consumption, they
make yet another large catch and throw the whole lot into a pit and
cover them with earth. If there should be no run of fish the following
year, these pits could be opened up and the contents fed to the dogs,
thus saving their valuable lives. The natives, who live mainly on
fish, will not cure more than enough for a single season's use.
[Illustration: A River of Dead Salmon--August.]
They may lay up future store for their dogs, but not for their
children. When an old fish-pit is opened up the stench is terrible,
but this does not trouble the dogs, for they will eat anything into
which they can bite. If the natives were willing to work fifteen days
longer, they could easily lay up enough food to tide over any ordinary
famine, but they will not do this unless forced to it. Consequently,
the Russian Government compels one or two from each family to work on
certain government nets, every fish caught being put in the
"fish-bank" and a record kept of the exact number due each individual
who helps work the nets. During several successive good years, enough
fish are laid up to supply the people at least in part during times of
scarcity. If these should not suffice, the government would buy up
reindeer from natives in the interior at fifty kopeks a head, and feed
them to the destitute people. Fifty kopeks make twenty-five cents in
United States currency, which seems a small price to pay for a
reindeer, but in the country of which we are writing that is a good
average price. A failure of the fish crop occurs about once in seven
years. For some reason not yet ascertained, the fish will entirely
desert a river for a season. Not infrequently it is found that of two
rivers whose mouths are not more than a few miles apart, the salmon
will frequent one and not the other.
The Russian Government forbids the export of salmon caught in the
rivers or within two miles of their mouths. While the people do not
destroy a thousandth part of one per cent. of the fish that run up the
river, we must bear in mind that not a single fish gets back to the
sea after depositing its eggs. As the fish are killed as near as
possible to the river's mouth, an enormous number of eggs are
destroyed. There is, therefore, a possibility of seriously diminishing
the supply if a wholesale slaughter takes place when the fish come in
from the sea. If they were taken after the eggs are deposited it would
be another matter; but this is never the case.
These salmon are of three different varieties, called, respectively,
the silver salmon, the "hump-backed" salmon, and the "garboosh." The
weight of a full-grown salmon is from eighteen to twenty-five pounds.
There is in the rivers another fish called the salmon-trout. It has a
dark-green back, with vivid pink spots, and it is a most delicious
article of food. The little lakes in the tundra also contain a fish
somewhat resembling the pickerel, which the natives catch in traps.
These are set in the little creeks leading from the tundra lakes. They
are cylindrical baskets, five feet long and three feet wide, and are
set in an opening in a dam built, for the purpose, of reeds and
stakes. Often as many as a dozen fish are taken from the traps at a
single catch. At the time when the salmon are running, hundreds of
sea-dogs (hair-seal) are attracted to the mouth of the river by the
smell of dead fish. As we went in from our steamer, they kept lifting
their heads from the water all about us, and afforded some good
shooting. The natives take them in huge nets made of walrus thongs
with a mesh of six inches or more. A good haul may net as many as
thirty of these big fellows, which weigh up to four hundred pounds
apiece. Their fur is of a mottled or speckled color. They are in high
repute among the natives, who use their hides for boots. The women are
able to sew them so as to be perfectly water-tight. The blubber is a
delicacy which is eaten cold. It is also made into oil, and in a
shallow dish, with a piece of moss for a wick, it forms the ordinary
lamp of the native. The sea-gulls, on their way north to breed, arrive
in May, and the air is simply filled with them. They make their nests
on rocky declivities or beside the rivers, or even on the open tundra.
The nesting and hatching of their young comes at such a time that it
just matches the running of the salmon, which is very convenient. The
young mature very quickly. When newly hatched they are gray. When they
come back the following season only their wings are gray, the body
being white. The egg harvest is a very important one to the natives,
who preserve the eggs by burying them in the ground on the north side
of a hill where there is perpetual frost. Besides the gulls, there are
countless ducks, geese, and snipe. These last often fly in such dense
flocks that the boys stand and throw clubs among them, and bring down
half a dozen at a throw. These youngsters are also very skilful with
the sling, and bag many ducks and geese with this primitive weapon. I
have seen a boy bring down a single goose with one of these slings,
though the general rule is to throw into a flock on the chance of
hitting one. Birds of all kinds here find the richest feeding-grounds
in the world. The sea birds, in countless numbers, feed upon the
salmon, while the insectivorous birds have only to open their mouths
to have them filled. At this season the ground is quite covered with
berries, which have been preserved all winter under the snow. Among
these are cranberries, blueberries, and huckleberries. When the birds
arrive in the spring they are generally poor, but ten days suffice, on
this rich fare, to make them fat. An hour's stroll is enough to use up
all the gun-shells one can conveniently carry, and to bag more game
than one can bring home. The hunter has only to sit down in a "goose
lane" or behind a blind of some sort, and shoot birds right and left.
The few merchants who reside in these trading posts kill large
quantities of birds in the season, and keep them in cold storage,
which can be found almost anywhere a few feet below the surface of the
ground. The natives, as a rule, are too poor to own shot-guns, and so
do not profit largely by this generous supply of feathered game.
CHAPTER V
THE TOWN OF GHIJIGA
The sacred icon and the sewing-machine both in evidence--The
native "process of getting married"--Mrs. Braggin's
piano--American pack-saddles and Russian
obstinacy--Theodosia Chrisoffsky and his sixty descendants.
When we reached the shore, or as near the shore as the shallowness of
the water would permit, a crowd of natives and half-castes waded out
and offered their backs to convey us to dry ground. There we found two
Russian officers in uniform and twelve Cossacks, besides a hundred or
more of the villagers. The magistrate and his assistant, with the aid
of twenty Cossacks, govern a section of territory as large as Texas
and New Mexico combined. The magistrate led us to his house, a log
structure, one story high, with five large rooms. No carpets adorned
the floor, which was spotlessly clean. On the wall hung the pictures
of the Czar and Czarina, while in the corner, of course, hung the
sacred icon. One noticeable feature was a Singer sewing-machine. The
magistrate's wife lives here with him and looks after their modest
family of thirteen children.
[Illustration: Ghijiga.]
It was now four o'clock in the morning, but the family were astir. The
samovar was brought in, and over hot tea and buns we speedily became
acquainted. The magistrate is an important man in Ghijiga, and I found
him to be a highly educated gentleman, speaking French and German
fluently, but not English. He examined my papers, and, with the aid of
the supercargo, who interpreted for me, I told him the purpose of my
visit. He made me entirely welcome, and told me that he had received
orders from the Governor-general in Vladivostok to aid me in every way
possible. And he assured me he would gladly do so.
My first object was to reach the town of Ghijiga, which lay
twenty-five miles up the river. Here I intended to make my
headquarters while I explored the country inland and about the head of
the Okhotsk Sea. The magistrate immediately gave orders that a boat be
gotten ready to take me up the river, and five Cossacks were detailed
to haul at the tow-line.
After a hearty breakfast of salmon, reindeer meat, and other good
things, we embarked and started up-stream. The boat was probably the
worst-shaped craft ever constructed. It was made by hollowing out an
eighteen-foot log, after which side boards were attached. As it drew
fully twelve inches of water and was very cranky, one could scarcely
recommend it for river travel. I afterward built three boats which
would carry double the weight of cargo, and which drew only four
inches.
We rowed up-stream a few miles in a northwesterly direction until we
reached the limit of tide-water, and the stream suddenly grew shallow.
The banks were covered with a dense growth of bushes, which at some
places attained a height of twenty feet, but there was no large timber
near at hand. With my field-glasses I saw some fairly heavy timber on
the mountainsides inland. The general aspect of the country was
exceedingly rough. The banks of the river showed outcroppings of
slate, striking east and west, with a pitch to the south of forty-five
degrees. To the southwest, about ten miles away, I saw a long, low
range of hills, perhaps a thousand feet high. The highest point in
this range is called Babuska, which is the Russian for "grandmother."
As we approached the shallows the water became so swift that we could
no longer row, whereupon four of the Cossacks jumped out of the boat
into the icy water. Putting over their shoulders a kind of harness
made of walrus hide, to which was attached a rope of the same
material one hundred feet long, they began towing. The fifth Cossack
held the steering-oar. The shore was too heavily wooded to admit of
using it as a tow-path, and so the poor fellows had to wade in the
water. Frequently, the boat would ground on the shallows, and then
they would patiently come back and haul us over the obstruction. At
noon we landed, built a roaring fire, and imbibed unknown quantities
of tea along with our lunch. Taking to the water again, we kept
steadily, if slowly, on until seven o'clock, when, suddenly turning a
sharp bend, we saw on the hillside, on the left bank, the green spires
of a Russian church around which were grouped about fifty houses. I
noticed that not a single house had a window on the north side. The
severe winds from the north drive all the snow away from that side of
the houses and pile it up against the windows on the south side, so
that they are often buried twelve or fifteen feet deep. Some of the
people are too lazy to dig this away and so have to remain in
comparative darkness; but as the days are only a couple of hours long
in mid-winter, it does not make so much difference.
As we neared the landing all the village, except such portion as had
met the steamer at the mouth of the river, came down _en masse_ to
greet us--dogs, children, and all. They gave us a hearty _drosty_, or
"How do you do?" and treated us most hospitably.
We pitched our tent on a grassy slope near the water and made
preparations for supper. As I was bending over, busy with my work, I
was startled by a hearty slap on the shoulder and the true Yankee
intonation, "Well, friend, what are you doing in this neck of the
woods?" I turned quickly and saw before me a stout, good-natured,
smiling American. I learned that he was a Mr. Powers, manager of the
Russian Trading Company, which had a station at this point. He had
arrived a few days before in the company's steamer, the _Kotic_, and
had brought with him a Russian-American as clerk. The latter was in
process of being married to the daughter of a Mrs. Braggin, the
capable agent of the Russian Fur Company at that point. I say he was
in process of being married; for, although the ceremony had begun the
day before, it would be several days yet before it would be completed.
They literally dragged me up to the house, although I pointed in
dismay at my disreputable suit of khaki. I was too late for the church
service, but was just in time for the more substantial part of the
festivities.
After the service in the church the villagers gather at the bride's
house and spend the balance of the day in feasting, amid the most
uproarious mirth. The second day finishes this act of the play, but
on the third and fourth days the bride and groom make the round of the
village, feasting everywhere. It was on the second day that we
arrived, and before the day was over the groom had gorged himself
about to the limit; and before the next two days had gone he confided
to me the fact that if he had known how much he would be forced to
eat, he would have hesitated before crossing the threshold of
matrimony.
[Illustration: Russian Church, Ghijiga.]
Mrs. Braggin's drawing-room boasted an antiquated upright piano, that
had long passed its prime, but was in fairly good tune for such a
corner of the world. In the course of the evening, as the fun was
growing fast and furious, and there seemed to be no one to play the
instrument, I sat down and struck up the "Washington Post" march; but
before I had played many bars, I was dismayed to find that the
merriment had suddenly ceased and the whole company were standing in
perfect silence, as if rooted to the spot. When I finished nothing
would suffice but that I should exhaust my slender repertory, and then
repeat it all again and again. Evidently, many of those rough but
kindly people had never heard anything like it in their lives, and, as
the Russian is musical to his heart's core, I felt pleased to have
added my mite to the evening's entertainment.
After the four days of feasting, we descended to the plane of the
ordinary. By the aid of Mr. Powers I secured a vacant log hut, where I
bestowed my various goods and appointed old Andrew as steward, making
arrangements for him to board at Mrs. Braggin's. Some of the native
women were easily induced to fit me out with a suit of buckskin which
I should require in traveling about the country. In this whole
district there were but twelve horses. They were Irkutsk ponies,
shaggy fellows, about fourteen hands high. They were very hardy
animals, and could shift for themselves both summer and winter. In the
winter they paw down through the snow until they reach the dead grass.
After nearly exhausting my powers of persuasion, and paying a round
sum, I secured six of these horses. I hired a competent Russian guide
and prepared to take my first trip across the tundra, to examine a
locality where the Russians had reported that gold had been discovered
a few years before. With my horses came little Russian pack-saddles or
rather combinations of pack- and riding-saddles. They have the faculty
of turning with their loads about once an hour all day long. This I
had discovered at Petropaulovsk, but when I expressed my determination
to use my American pack-saddles, I found myself confronted by the
opposition of Russians and natives alike. They viewed my saddles
with amusement and contempt. The double cinches and the breast and
back cinches puzzled them completely, and they refused to have
anything to do with them. As fast as my Koreans would get the packs
on, the Russians would take them off when our backs were turned. I
soon discovered that the Russians were determined to use their own
saddles, and no argument would move them. I unbuckled a Russian saddle
and threw it to the ground, substituting one of my own for it. I
turned to a second horse to do likewise, when, looking over my
shoulder, I saw a Russian quietly unfastening the first. Stepping up
to him, I gave him a slap with the open hand on the jaw. Instantly,
the whole matter assumed a new aspect. I was not to be trifled with.
They saw it. Their objections were at once withdrawn, and never after
that did I have occasion to strike a man.
[Illustration: House in Ghijiga occupied by Mr. Vanderlip and his
Party.]
My guide was an old man of sixty-five, but a noted sledge-driver and
hunter. His name was Theodosia Chrisoffsky, a half-caste. He was a
dried-up and wizened old man, but I found him as active as a youth of
twenty. He was always the first up in the morning, and the last to bed
at night. He owned the best dogs in northeastern Siberia, and could
get more work out of a dog-team than any other man. His reputation
reached from the Okhotsk Sea to the Arctic Ocean, and he was
considered among the dog-men to be about the wealthiest of his class.
He owned a hundred dogs, valued at from three to one hundred roubles
each. Perhaps ten of them were worth the maximum price, and the rest
averaged about ten roubles apiece. He also owned five horses. Not the
least part of his wealth were twelve strapping sons and daughters, all
of whom, with their wives and husbands, lived under the paternal
roof--or, rather, under a clump of paternal roofs. There were some
sixty souls in all, and they formed a little village by themselves
about twenty miles up the river from Ghijiga.
I had to load the horses very light on account of the marshy condition
of the tundra. Each pack was a hundred pounds only. On this trip I
took only one of my Koreans.
CHAPTER VI
OFF FOR THE TUNDRA--A NATIVE FAMILY
Hard traveling--The native women--A mongrel
race--Chrisoffsky's home and family and their ideas of
domestic economy--Boiled fish-eyes a native
delicacy--Prospecting along the Ghijiga.
We set out at nine o'clock on the sixth of September. Fortunately for
us, the sharp frosts had already killed off all the mosquitos. The
path through the tundra was very difficult. We stepped from tuft to
tuft of moss, between which were deep mud and slush. When we could
keep in the river-bed, where it was dry, we had tolerably good going;
so we kept as near the river as possible. Often I would have to mount
the back of my faithful Kim to cross some tributary of the main
stream. We were continually wet to the knee or higher, and were tired,
muddy, and bedraggled beyond belief.
Toward night, we saw the welcome smoke from the village of the
Chrisoffskys. A crowd of small urchins came running out to greet their
grandfather, and soon we were in the midst of the village. The old
gentleman, my guide, took my hand and led me into his house, where,
after I had kissed every one (drawing the line at the men), one of the
daughters sat down on the floor, unlaced my boots, took off my wet
socks, and replaced them by soft, fur-lined deerskin boots. She then
looked my boots over very carefully, and finding a little seam ripped,
she got out a deer-sinew and sewed it up. All my men were similarly
attended to. The boots were then hung up to dry. In the morning, they
would have to be oiled. This attention to the foot-gear is an
essential part of the etiquette of this people. Any stitch that is to
be taken must be attended to before the boot is dry and stiff. Even
here the samovar reigned supreme. The women were strong, buxom
creatures, and they wore loose calico gowns of gaudy colors. The hair,
which is never luxuriant in the women of the North, was put up in two
slender braids crossed at the back and brought around to the front of
the head and tied up. Their complexions were very dark, almost like
that of a North American Indian. Most of them had very fine teeth.
These people are of a mongrel race, having a mixture of Korak,
Tunguse, and Russian blood. Chrisoffsky himself was one fourth
Russian. They speak a dialect that is as mixed as their blood; for it
is a conglomerate of Korak, Tunguse and Russian. They are very
prolific, six and eight children being considered a small family.
The death-rate among them is very high, and, as might be expected,
pulmonary diseases are responsible for a very large proportion of the
deaths.
[Illustration: House of Theodosia Chrisoffsky, Christowic.]
This house into which I had come as guest consisted of a kitchen, a
small living-room, and a tiny bedroom. The old gentleman's wife was
fifty-five years old, and was still nursing her fifteenth child,
which, at night, was swung from the ceiling, while the father and
mother occupied a narrow bed. Three of the smaller children slept on
the floor beneath the bed. The room was eight feet long and six feet
wide. The fireplace in the living-room was a huge stone oven, which
projected through the partition into the bedroom. Every evening its
capacious maw was filled with logs, and this insured heat in the heavy
stone body of the stove for at least twenty-four hours. In the mouth
of this oven the kettles were hung. This house was far above the
average; for, in truth, there were only twelve others as good in the
whole immense district.
For dinner, the first course was a startling one. It consisted of a
huge bowl of boiled fish-eyes. This is considered a great delicacy by
the natives of the far North. When the dish was set before me, and I
saw a hundred eyes glaring at me from all directions and at all
angles, cross, squint, and wall, it simply took my appetite away. I
had to turn them down, so that the pupil was not visible, before I
could attack them. The old gentleman and I ate alone, the rest of the
family not being allowed to sit down with us. This was eminently
satisfactory to me, as we ate from the same dish; in fact, I could
have dispensed with my host too. The second dish consisted of
fish-heads. I found on these a sort of gelatin or cartilage that was
very good eating. Then came a kind of cake, fried in seal-oil, of
which the less said the better. For dessert, we had a dish of yagada,
which is much like our raspberry, except that it is yellow and rather
acid.
The rest of the family, together with my men, squatted on the floor of
the kitchen, and ate from tables a foot high by three feet square. In
the center of each table was set a large bowl of a kind of
fish-chowder. Each person wielded a spoon made from the horn of the
mountain sheep, and held in the left hand a piece of black bread.
After dinner they all had tea. No sugar is put in the tea, but a small
lump is given to each person, and he nibbles it as he sips his tea. It
is the height of impoliteness to ask for a second piece of sugar. Many
of these people drink as many as sixty cups of tea in a single day.
They seldom, if ever, drink water.
We sat and talked a couple of hours over the samovar, and then the
blankets were spread for the night. The large room was reserved for
me. Three huge bearskins were first placed on the floor, and then my
blankets were spread over them. It made a luxurious bed, and quite
free from vermin; for a bedbug will never approach a bearskin. In the
kitchen, I fear, they were packed like sardines. They slept on
deerskins or bearskins, anything that came handy being used for a
covering. Curiously enough, these people all prefer to sleep on a
steep incline, and to secure this position they use heavy pillows or
bolsters. Before retiring, each person came into my room and bowed and
crossed himself before the icon in the corner. I had to shake hands
with them all, and kiss the children, which operation I generally
performed on the forehead, as handkerchiefs are unknown luxuries in
that country.
The next morning, while partaking of a sort of French breakfast of
bread, tea, and sugar, I noticed that my party were the only ones that
made use of a comb and brush. When I stepped outside the door to clean
my teeth, I was surrounded by twenty or more, who had come to witness
this strange operation. They were brimming over with laughter. The
tooth-brush was passed around from hand to hand, and I had to keep a
sharp lookout, lest some of them tried it themselves.
Finally, I lined them all up to take their photograph. I placed my
camera on the ground, and turned to direct them how to stand. I had no
need to ask them to look pleasant, for they were all on a broad grin.
I was at a loss to account for their mirth till I turned and saw that
the village dogs were treating my camera in a characteristically
canine fashion. Then it was I who needed to be told to look pleasant.
At last we were on the road again. For the first five miles our way
led up the bed of the river, sometimes in the water, and sometimes on
the bank in grass as high as the horses' shoulders. When, at last, we
came out on to the tundra, to the north, a hundred and fifty miles
away, I could see the tops of the mountains among which the Ghijiga
River has its source. They are about ten thousand feet high. To the
northeast, about sixty miles away, I could see the foothills of a
range of mountains in which rises the Avecko River, which enters the
Okhotsk Sea within a mile of the mouth of the Ghijiga. Reaching the
summit of the water-shed between the two rivers, I discovered that
between me and these foothills the land was low and abounded in tundra
lakes. To avoid these, I bore to the left and kept on the summit of
the water-shed. By noon we had covered only eight miles. We halted for
dinner, unpacked the horses, and turned them out to feed upon the
rich grass while we made our dinner of fish, bread, and other viands
which we had brought ready prepared from the house. At eight that
night we camped on a "tundra island," a slight rise in the general
flatness on which grew a few tamarack trees. As the nights were now
very cold, we built a roaring fire. My koklanka, or great fur coat,
with its hood, now proved its utility. After supper, which consisted
of several brace of fat ptarmigan, brought down that afternoon with my
shotgun, each man took his deerskin and spread it on a pile of elastic
tamarack boughs. With our feet shod in dry fur boots, with our
koklankas about us and great pillows under our heads, we slept as
soundly and as comfortably as one could desire.
[Illustration: Start from Ghijiga, Summer-time. Theodosia Chrisoffsky
and Family--Fourteen Children.]
In the morning we found ourselves covered with white frost. The start
was very difficult, for an all-day tramp in the bog the day before had
made our joints stiff. For the first half hour, walking was so painful
that I found myself frequently counting the steps between objects
along the way. But after a time the stiffness wore off, and I began to
find the pace of the horses too slow. When at last we came to higher
ground and better going, I examined the streams for gold. The pan
showed several "small colors," for we were in a granite country, but
as yet there were no signs of any gold-bearing float rock.
On the thirteenth day we arrived at our destination which was a
certain creek indicated by a Russian engineer named Bugdanovitch. I
liked the looks of the country very much. The creeks were filled with
quartz float. So I determined to stop here two or three weeks and
explore the adjacent hills and creeks for gold. At this point my
guide's contract expired and I reluctantly let him go, as well as five
of the six horses. I was thus left in the wilderness with Kim and
Alek.
I pitched camp in a favorable place and went to work in good spirits.
I thoroughly prospected the hills and ravines and made repeated trials
of the creek beds, but though I found more or less show of gold, I was
at last obliged to confess that there was nothing worth working.
This being the case, it behooved me to be on my way back to
headquarters at Ghijiga. I thought there could be no difficulty about
it, as the water all flowed in one direction. I did not want to go
back by the way we had come. I suspected that there was a shorter way,
and that the guide had purposely brought me a longer distance in order
to secure more pay. So I decided to make a "bee line" for Ghijiga.
Already we had had a slight flurry of snow, which had made me a trifle
uneasy. We had only thirty days' provisions with us, and it would not
do to be snowed in. As we had only one horse, we could not, of
course, take back with us all our camp equipage, so I left Alek at the
camp and started out for Ghijiga with Kim and our one horse, intending
to send back dog-sledges for the things. A more timid man than Alek
would have hesitated before consenting to be left behind in this
fashion, but he bore up bravely and in good cheer sent us off.
CHAPTER VII
TUNGUSE AND KORAK HOSPITALITY.
My Korak host--"Bear!"--I shoot my first arctic fox--My
Tunguse guide--Twenty-two persons sleep in a twelve-foot
tent--Tunguse family prayers--The advent of
Howka--Chrisoffsky once more.
I struck what I thought to be a straight course toward our
destination. The going was much better than it had been a few weeks
before, because of the hard frost which held everything solid till ten
o'clock in the morning. Then the sun would melt the ice and make it
very hard to travel; for the broken ice would cut our boots, which
meant wet feet for the rest of the day.
On the second day we struck a small water-course and saw many signs of
reindeer. Soon we found a tiny trail, and, following it down the
valley, I turned around a bend in the creek, and saw before me six
large deerskin tents, while on the surrounding hillsides were hundreds
of reindeer. As we neared the village a dozen curs came rushing out;
some of them were hobbled so as to prevent their chasing the deer.
They attacked us savagely, as is the custom of these ugly little
mongrels. We had to make a counter attack with stones to keep them
off. The noise aroused the natives, who hurried out and received us
with the hospitable "drosty."
[Illustration: Village of Christowic, Okhotsk Sea.]
These people were pure Koraks,[1] a little under the medium size, in
which they resemble the Japanese. I was led into the largest of the
tents, and a wooden bowl containing boiled reindeer meat was placed
before me. To the delight of my host, I went to my pack and produced
some tea. I also displayed some sugar and black bread, which firmly
established me in their good graces. I was greatly surprised to see my
host bring out a box, from which he produced half a dozen china cups,
heavily ornamented with gilt, and bearing such legends as "God Bless
Our Home," "To Father," and "Merry Christmas." He must have secured
them from an American whaling vessel on one of his annual trips to the
coast. So, in the midst of this wilderness, I drank my tea from a fine
mustache cup, originally designed to make the recipient "Remember Me."
These cups were the heirloom of the family, and were brought out only
on state occasions.
[1] Sometimes spelled Koriaks or Koryakes. Korak is given the
preference as being more accurately the phonetic spelling.
When tea was finished I produced some tobacco and filled my pipe and
that of my host, much to his gratification. The sequel was
embarrassing; for when our pipes were smoked out he insisted on
filling them again with his own tobacco. This was rough on me, but I
set my teeth on the pipe-stem and bravely went through with it to the
end. I can say nothing worse of it than that it was as bad as a cheap
American cigarette.
My host was a genial old fellow, and later on he became my bosom
friend. He was the wealthiest man in his district, and owned upward of
ten thousand reindeer. Of course I had great difficulty in talking to
him, but by a liberal use of signs, I made him understand where I had
come from, and that I would like to have him kill some reindeer and
carry them back to the camp where I had left Alek, and, if possible,
bring him to this village. I made a rough sketch of the position of
the camp, and he understood perfectly, as shown by the fact that he
carried out my instructions to the letter on the next day. I asked him
the way to Ghijiga and pointed in the direction that I had supposed it
lay. This was approximately correct, but he promised to give me a
guide to take me to town.
That evening there was another surprise in store for me. They served
for supper the boiled flesh of unborn reindeer. It is accounted a
specially choice viand among the Koraks. This seemed worse than
smoking the old man's tobacco, but I laid aside all squeamishness and
found that, after all, it was a palatable dish. My bed that night was
a pile of skins, a foot deep, in a corner of the tent.
The next morning we set out with our guide, a mere boy dressed in a
close-fitting suit of brown buckskin. He carried in his hand an ugly
looking bear spear with a blade a foot long and sharpened on both
edges. It was artistically inlaid with copper scroll-work and was a
fine example of genuine Korak art. The shaft was a good eight feet
long. All day we pushed ahead without adventure or misadventure until
about seven o'clock in the evening, when, as we were passing down a
gentle incline through thick bushes, with the Korak guide in the lead
and I behind, my notice was attracted by a mound of fresh earth a few
steps from the path. I went to investigate, and was greeted by a
terrific roar. I brought my gun to position and cocked both barrels,
but could see nothing beyond a tremendous shaking of the bushes.
Looking around, I saw the little guide with his eyes blazing and his
spear in readiness for an attack. He exclaimed "Medvait!" which in
Russian means "bear." As my gun was loaded only with bird shot, I
decided that discretion was the better part of valor, and slowly
backed out of the dense undergrowth. When I reached the open, whatever
remnant of hunting instinct a hard day's tramp had left in me
asserted itself. Hastily reloading my gun with shells loaded with
buckshot, I circled around the bushes to get a shot at the fellow. I
saw where the bushes were being beaten down by his hasty retreat, but
could not catch sight of the brute. I sent a charge of buckshot after
him as an inducement to come out and show himself, but the argument
worked just the other way, and he made off at his best speed. The
strangest thing about the whole affair was that we had passed within
ten feet of the animal without the horse showing any signs of
uneasiness. Nothing will so frighten a horse as the smell of a bear.
But I learned afterward that this particular horse was afraid of
nothing. I had named him "Bill," and we had many a hard day together.
Night was now upon us, and so we made our camp in some dry grass
beside a brook. The guide slept on a single deerskin, with no covering
but the clothes he wore. In the morning I ascended a little knoll, and
with my glasses could see a mountain near the town of Ghijiga, so the
guide left me, and went back. That afternoon I killed my first arctic
fox. The little fellow, about as large as a coyote, came running
toward us. We stopped short, and the inquisitive animal approached to
within a hundred feet and paused to inspect us. I killed him with a
ball through the chest.
[Illustration: Mr. Vanderlip on "Bill."]
That night as Kim and I sat beside a roaring fire of birch logs a
little animal leaped suddenly into the firelight opposite. It was a
young arctic fox, the prettiest sight I have ever seen. He would jump
to one side and then the other, and crouch, and strike attitudes like
a kitten at play. Then he would lift his nose in the air and sniff
this way and that, raising one of his paws meanwhile. The thought of
killing the little thing would never have entered my head if Kim, the
matter-of-fact, had not whispered, "Strelite," which means "shoot."
Instinctively my hand crept toward my gun, but the little fox saw the
movement and was gone like a flash. I was heartily glad of it, too.
In this district are to be found almost all the different varieties of
foxes--the red, fiery, blue, chestnut, black, and white. But it should
be remembered that, with the exception of the white and red, these are
not exactly different species. For instance, a black fox may be found
in a litter of the common red fox in any country. He is simply a freak
of nature, just as one might find a black kitten among a litter of
gray ones. The foxes are caught by poison or traps. There are two
kinds of traps, one of which seizes the animal by a leg or around the
neck, and the other is made with a bow and arrow so set that as the
fox goes along the path the slightest touch of the foot will
discharge the arrow. Formerly these animals were so common that when
the dogs were fed the foxes would come and try to steal part of the
food, and had to be driven away with clubs. At that time the natives
valued their pelts hardly more than dogskins, but as the foreign
demand increased the foxes became worth catching.
We had four days of hard work traveling across the tundra, which was
frozen hard in the morning, but was soft in the afternoon. Many times
a day we were up to the waist in the mud and water, working to get
Bill out of the mire. On the fourth day, just as night fell, we struck
the trail between Ghijiga and old Chrisoffsky's little hamlet. I did
not know just how far we were from the village, and as we were tired
out we camped for the night. In the morning, what was our chagrin to
find that we were within a quarter of a mile of Ghijiga. Bill
doubtless knew, and if he could have talked he would have saved us one
night in the open.
The days now grew rapidly colder, with flurries of snow that heralded
the coming of winter. As it was now possible to use dog-sleds, I
engaged some of the natives to go to the Korak village and bring down
my camping outfit, which I thought must long since have arrived at
that place. At this season the dogs could travel only at night, when
the ground was hard, but even so they covered between thirty and
forty miles a day without difficulty.
Meanwhile I loaded up Bill with all he could carry, and, in company
with Kim, started out to find the head waters of the Turumcha River,
where gold was reported to have been discovered. This trail led west
from Ghijiga, but it was first necessary to go up the valley of the
Ghijiga a short distance before crossing over into the other valley. I
had, therefore, to pass Chrisoffsky's place again. We arrived there
the first evening and received a hearty welcome. I tried to get the
old gentleman to go with me and to furnish horses and dogs, but he
could do neither. His dogs were engaged by the trading company on the
coast, and his horses were in too poor a condition to undertake the
journey which I contemplated. So I was reduced to the melancholy
necessity of walking, Bill carrying our camp outfit.
As I was about to start, a native Tunguse arrived at Chrisoffsky's. He
was the first of that tribe that I had seen. Chrisoffsky told me that
this young man was going the same road as I, and that his yourta, or
hut, was near the stream along which I intended to prospect. He
willingly agreed to act as my guide at a wage of one brick of tea a
day. He answered to the euphonious name of Fronyo. He was five feet
high and weighed only one hundred and ten pounds, but was
prodigiously strong and wiry. He was dressed in old tanned buckskin,
with a gaudy apron trimmed with beads in geometric patterns and with a
fringe. According to the custom of his tribe, he wore a long, ugly
knife strapped to his thigh, the point reaching to the knee, while the
handle lay at the hip. These knives are fashioned by the Koraks, who
sell them to the Tunguses. On his feet were moccasins with seal-hide
soles.
I found that he could speak a little broken Russian, and as I had
acquired a few Russian expressions we got along famously. So we set
out, Fronyo leading off with his long bear spear but no fire-arms. It
was a straight three days' trip across the tundra, and without special
incident. At night we arrived in good season at a skin yourta on the
banks of a tributary of the Ghijiga. On our approach a dozen dogs
rushed out with the full intention of tearing us to pieces, but
changed their minds when they found that we were equally determined to
defend ourselves. The dogs were followed by the denizens of the place,
ten or twelve in number, including Fronyo's father, mother, brothers,
and sisters.
Their greeting consisted in grasping right hands, throwing out the
lips as far as possible and touching the two cheeks and lips of the
friend. I pretended ignorance of the ceremony. In truth, they were
so unconscionably dirty that it was impossible to tell the color of
their skin, and besides, I could not distinguish the men from the
women. But I learned later that the dress of the two sexes does differ
slightly, for the women have a little fringe about the bottom of the
skirt, which is split up the back precisely like our frock-coats.
[Illustration: The Pride of the Family.]
The flap of the tent was drawn aside and we crept in, only to find
ourselves buried in a dense cloud of smoke, which came from an open
fire burning in the middle of the tent, and which escaped through a
hole at the top, as in the wigwam of the North American Indian. On
sitting down, I discovered that near the ground the air was
comparatively clear. Because of this smoke, the natives suffer
severely from sore eyes.
Among the Tunguses the guest is always supposed to provide the tea, so
I had Kim bring out a brick, and it was brewed and served with bread
and sugar. For supper I had a splendid salmon-trout spitted before the
fire, and it seemed the most delicious morsel I had ever tasted. Then
we lighted our pipes and took our ease. I noticed that the women
carried pipes. The little brass pipe-bowls are bought from the Russian
traders and are fitted with reed stems about eight inches long. Some
of the pipe-stems were made of two pieces of wood grooved down the
center and then bound together with deer thong. They mix Manchu
tobacco with the dried inner bark of the fir tree.
When it came time to retire, several logs were added to the fire in
the center of the tent, the deerskins were spread, and each lay down
in the clothes he or she had worn all day. The tent was twelve feet in
diameter, and in that space twenty-two persons slept; three of them
were infants who were swung from the top and just below the smoke
fine. Indeed we lay like matches in a box, and certain grave
misgivings I had relative to living mementoes of the occasion were
later verified.
But before retiring I witnessed a scene that would have put to shame
not a few of the homes in America. These Tunguses are, many of them,
adherents of the Greek Church. There was an icon in the tent, and
before and after eating they crossed themselves before it. Now as we
were about to retire the family shook hands and kissed one another.
They came and shook my hand and said, "Pleasant sleep." Then the old
man turned his face upward, closed his eyes and said, "O God, do not
forget our home to-night." Considering the surroundings, it was the
most impressive thing I had ever witnessed.
On our departure the next day we made the old people happy with the
gift of several bricks of tea. Snow had fallen during the night to
the depth of six inches. Winter was on us in full force. As we left
we were followed from the yourta by a beautiful black dog the size of
a fox. I was to become well acquainted with him later. We camped that
night on the banks of the Turumcha where I was to commence my work.
The stream was only sixty feet wide, but it was swift and turgid and
filled with floating ice.
The next morning we were obliged to ford it; so, tying a lariat about
Bill's neck and leaving the end of it in Kim's hands, I mounted and
forced the horse into the water. At the deepest point it came well up
to his shoulders and he found it hard to keep his feet, but we got
safely over. Kim pulled the horse back by the lariat and the guide
came across. That long-suffering brute had to make four round trips
before we and our effects were all across the river. When Kim started
across, the dog began to howl piteously, but finally sprang into the
water after us. When in mid-stream he encountered a floating cake of
ice. He climbed upon it and was whirled down-stream and out of sight.
He got across, however, and caught up with us two hours later.
We followed up the bed of the stream, stopping often to examine it for
signs of gold. We sunk shafts here and there and panned the gravel in
the icy water of the stream, always getting a few "colors" but nothing
of particular interest. Each night we camped in some sheltered nook,
often in heavy timber, and our first move always was to change our wet
boots. One night I spread out my deerskin bed, put on my heavy fur
coat and cap, lay down as usual with the canvas tarpaulin over all,
and was soon asleep. About four o'clock in the morning I felt
something warm moving at my side. I put out my hand and found that it
was the black dog which had followed us. We called him Howka. When I
stirred he offered to leave, but I patted him and coaxed him to
remain, which he was quite willing to do. Afterward I bought him, and
for a year he was my constant companion. Once, during a long period of
semi-starvation, he saved my life by hunting sea-gulls' nests, from
which I took the eggs.
After working my way up to the headwaters of the stream without
finding gold in paying quantities, I determined to cross over the
divide into another section, but my guide, Fronyo, begged me to go one
day's trip farther up the little brook to a place which he described
as "white walls with little sparkling points like the stars." I said
to myself, "Probably quartz with sulphurets" (bisulphide of iron). So
on we went and came at last to the shiny wall. It proved to be a large
vein of low grade gold ore crossing the brook at right angles. Panning
below I found nothing of particular value; so breaking off
fragments of the rocks we piled them up beside the stream, making a
little monument to mark the spot, should I wish to revisit it. I
appeared to be now in a mineral country. We went on up the brook,
panning continually, but nowhere on the bed-rock found gold in paying
quantities.
[Illustration: Mr. Vanderlip crossing Turumcha River.]
We had now reached the top of the divide, and so crossed over into a
district called Toloffka, with a stream of the same name, where we
spent several days. The cold was intense. The thermometer registered
ten degrees below zero. The streams were all ice-bound, except where
they were very swift. The snow was about a foot deep, and Bill was
faring badly. His only food was the tops of the grass that stuck up
through the snow or that could be found on wind-swept places. He was
so weak that he could only pack sixty pounds, and that with
difficulty. All our food was gone except rice and tea. Our tobacco had
long ago given out, and, as a substitute, we used brick tea mixed with
pine bark. It made a smoke--and that was all. The rough work had
destroyed my boots. I had used one pair to mend the soles of the
other. My guide made a needle of a fish bone, and with thread from the
fiber of a vine sewed the soles on for me. It was evidently time for
us to be turning our faces homeward. We went straight for the yourta
where Fronyo's family lived, and of course made it in far less time
than it had taken us to come. I found that the whole trip had covered
just one month. Bill came very near giving out on the home trip, but
by a heroic effort pulled through and was rewarded at the journey's
end by getting all the provender he could stow away.
As Bill had to carry the pack and as my feet were not in the best
condition, Fronyo proposed that I ride to Ghijiga on a reindeer. A
fine big bull of about five hundred pounds was brought out and I
looked him over. I had some misgivings, but at last decided to accept
the offer. The saddle was made with reindeer bones for a foundation.
These were securely bound together, padded with moss, and covered with
rawhide. The antlers of the deer had a spread of five feet, and there
were so many prongs that I never tried to count them. Much to my
surprise, I found that the motion of my steed was a smooth and gliding
one, even more comfortable than the gait of a single-footer. It had
taken us three days to walk up from Chrisoffsky's to the yourta. It
took just eight hours to make the same trip in the other direction.
Chrisoffsky's house was on the left bank of the stream, while we were
on the right. It would have been death to the deer to have taken him
within scent of the dogs. So I dismounted two miles from the house,
tethered the deer, and made my way in on foot. The stream was not
solidly frozen, so I fired off my gun and brought out the whole
settlement. A boat was found, and presently I was seated again at old
Chrisoffsky's fireside.
CHAPTER VIII
DOG-SLEDGING AND THE FUR TRADE
Description of the sledge and its seven pairs of dogs--The
harness--The useful _polka_--The start-off a gymnastic
performance for the driver--Methods of steering and avoiding
obstructions while going at full speed--Dog-trading _en
route_--Dog-fights are plentiful--Prices of sable and other
skins in the native market--The four grades of sables--How
they live and what they live on--A Russian writer on sable
hunting--Days when a native would barter eighteen sable
skins for an ax.
I could not delay here. The sledge-road to Ghijiga was in fine
condition, and, hiring a team of dogs, I started out the next morning
on my first sledge-ride. Our team consisted of fourteen big, wolflike
sledge-dogs with shaggy coats and erect pointed ears. Some were white,
some black, some gray, some red, and some a bluish color. The two
leaders were a magnificent pair--one red, the other blue. They were
all fierce-looking fellows, but I had no difficulty in stroking them,
as they like to be petted. The harness consisted of a breast collar
and a belly-band. Leading back from the collar, and held in place on
the sides by the belly-band, are two thongs, which are attached to a
ring directly behind the dog. From this ring a single thong, three
feet in length, attaches the dog to the central tug which draws the
sledge. Each thong is fastened to a ring on the tug by means of a
wooden pin three inches long. The dogs are always fastened to the tug
in pairs. The central tug leads forward from the sledge to a point
between the leading pair of dogs. Between the several pairs is a clear
space of about eighteen inches.
The sledge itself, which is called a _narta_, is a remarkable vehicle.
It is made of light basswood without nails or screws. The parts are
bound together with walrus thongs. It is admirably adapted to survive
the hard knocks which it is sure to receive. It has just the necessary
amount of "give" without losing anything in strength. The runners are
from ten to fourteen feet long and two feet apart. They are from three
to four inches wide and unshod. The bed of the sledge is raised ten
inches above the runners by means of posts at frequent intervals. On
each side is a railing six inches high, with a thong mesh to prevent
the load from falling off. At about one third the distance from the
front to the back of the sledge is placed a perpendicular bow of stout
wood, which rises some four feet and a half from the ground. The
driver sits behind this, and whenever an obstruction is met with, he
steps off quickly at the side and pulls the sledge one way or the
other by means of this bow, which he grasps in the right hand. The
driver holds a stout steel-shod stick five feet in length with a cord
attached to the end. He can use this _polka_ as a brake by putting it
between the runners and digging it into the ground, or he can anchor
the sledge with it by driving it perpendicularly into the snow
immediately in front of the sledge and then tying the cord to the bow
which has been described. When this is done the sledge cannot possibly
move forward.
Several bearskins were laid in the bed of the sledge for me, and a
back-rest was made by lashing together three cross-pieces. I was told
to keep as far down as possible, as it would lessen the probability of
capsizing. Before starting, one more important piece of work had to be
performed. Chrisoffsky, using the polka as a lever, tipped the sledge
up at an angle of forty-five degrees, exposing the bottom of one
runner, and proceeded to scrape it with a knife he always carried in a
sheath at his thigh. Then from under his fur coat he drew out a little
bottle of water which was fastened about his neck with a cord, and
wetting a piece of deer fur as one would wet a sponge, he drew it
rapidly along the runner, with the result that a thin film of ice was
formed along its whole length. The other runner was treated
likewise. This is a very important part of the preparation for a
sledge-ride.
[Illustration: Sledge-dogs, showing Harness and Method of Hitching.]
While this was going on the dogs were continually yelping with
excitement and leaping in their collars, eager to be off. Old
Chrisoffsky quieted them with the cry "Chy, chy, chy." The old
gentleman himself was to be my driver, and I mounted and was carefully
tucked in by kindly, even if dirty, hands, while Chrisoffsky
restrained the dogs. I said good-by, and settled back to witness a
marvelous feat of human dexterity on the part of the driver, and of
almost human intelligence on the part of the dogs. It was a crisp,
cold morning. The road was well broken, but the difficulty was in
getting out of the village with its narrow, winding paths to the open
tundra where the road was straight and easy.
As Chrisoffsky untied the cord from the bow, the alert dogs gave a
wild yell, and strained at their collars as though they had gone mad.
He drew out the polka, placed one foot on the runner, gave the bow a
jerk to dislodge the sledge from its position in the snow, and
shouted, "Hyuk, hyuk, hyuk!" to the impatient dogs. They sprang
forward together, giving the sledge a jerk that nearly threw me
overboard, and dashed forward at a terrific speed, Chrisoffsky still
standing on the runner and waving the polka in his hand. We were off
like a shot amid the laughter and good-bys of Chrisoffsky's numerous
progeny. The trick was to get the dogs around those sharp curves at
such a speed without upsetting the sledge. The driver by shouting,
"Put, put, put!" could make them swerve about forty-five degrees to
the right, and they would continue to turn till he stopped; then they
would go straight ahead. If he wanted them to turn to the left he
would give a strong guttural, scraping noise that sounded like an
intensified German "ch," repeated as long as he wished them to
continue turning. If we met an obstruction he would leap off, even
when going at full speed, and by means of the bow pull or push the
sledge free from the impending smash, and then leap on again as nimbly
as a cat, despite his sixty-odd years. As we swept out of the village,
followed by the shouts of "Doswi dania" (good-by), we plunged down
into a gully and up the other side on to the open tundra, the dogs on
the dead run. For a time our speed must have been nearly that of a
greyhound at full stretch. Old Chrisoffsky looked back at me and
laughed, and asked me how I liked it.
I have ridden a good many kinds of vehicles, but for beauty of motion
give me a narta with fourteen big, wild dogs, and a smooth road. The
narta goes like a snake, it is so sinuous and adapts itself so
perfectly to the irregularities of the road.
After a while the dogs got the "wire edge" worked off their enthusiasm
and settled down to a good steady trot that took us along at the rate
of seven miles an hour. They worked together as smoothly as a machine.
When they became thirsty, they would lap up the snow beside the path.
If one of the dogs stops drawing and begins to shirk, the driver
stands up and throws the polka at him, hitting him on the head or
back, and then, by a dexterous motion, pushes the narta to one side
and recovers the polka as the sledge passes it. The dog so warned will
probably go miles with his head over his shoulder watching to see if
he is going to be struck again; and all the other dogs, too, keep a
weather-eye open. The best dogs are always in the lead, and the
poorest ones back near the driver, where he can manage them most
easily.
If a dog refuses to draw, the sledge is stopped and the driver, to an
accompaniment of very choice language, beats the sluggard with the
lash of the polka till he deems the punishment sufficient. That dog
will need no more reminders for a day at least. Almost always after
starting out one or two dogs have to be handled in this manner before
they will settle down to the day's work. Not infrequently dog-teams,
meeting in the road, will stop and the drivers will proceed to "swap
horses," or rather dogs, in the true David Harum style. But the two
leaders are never exchanged in this way. They are the driver's
favorites, and are too valuable to risk in such a trade. Even if their
master is starving he will not part with his leaders.
About five miles out, we met a team of dogs going up-country. We
stopped simultaneously to exchange news, and inside of ten seconds one
of our dogs made a jump at one of the other team. This was the signal,
and in an instant all the twenty-eight dogs were at it tooth and nail
in one grand scrimmage. After beating them unmercifully, the drivers
were able to separate the two teams, and we found that three of our
dogs were limping. I then learned that in a fight the Siberian dog
does not make for his antagonist's throat, but for his feet, for he
seems to know that injury to that member is the most serious that can
happen to a sledge-dog. It was amusing to see with what deftness they
would draw their feet back from the snap of the enemy. The neck is
generally covered with a thick growth of hair which is impervious to
teeth, while from the ankle to the foot the hair is cut away by the
driver to prevent the snow from balling upon it. Our troubles proved
not to be serious, and at the end of the third hour we approached
Ghijiga. As soon as the dogs scented the town they gave a
simultaneous yelp and broke into a swift run, as is always their
custom in approaching any settlement. At the same time all the dogs of
the village, apparently, came rushing out to meet us, and ran
alongside yelping and snapping in a friendly way at our dogs. Old
Chrisoffsky drew up with a flourish before my cabin, where I received
a hearty welcome from the townsfolk. This day's trip from
Chrisoffsky's house by dog-sledge cost me the enormous sum of one
rouble, or fifty cents in United States gold.
[Illustration: Mr. Vanderlip's Dog-sled loaded.]
It was now late in October, and it was necessary for me to stop in
Ghijiga while my winter outfit of clothes was being prepared. The snow
was already deep and the river frozen solid, excepting at the rapids.
But cold as it was, my work was but just beginning, for it is only in
winter that long distance travel is possible. In summer you may
struggle across six or eight miles of spongy tundra a day, but in
winter you can easily cover from sixty to ninety miles, depending upon
the quality of your teams and the number of your relays.
By this time the natives were beginning to bring in their furs and
other valuables to exchange with the merchants of the trading company.
It may be of interest to give the prevailing prices.
The native, ordinarily, does not take money for his skins, but various
kinds of necessaries. Reducing it all, however, to a monetary basis,
we find that he receives for sable skin ten to thirteen roubles;
red-fox skin, two to three roubles; white-fox skin, one and a half
roubles; black-fox skin, fifty to one hundred and fifty roubles;
blue-squirrel skin, thirty-five cents; unborn-deer skin, twelve cents;
turbogan (kind of coon), fifteen cents; yearling-deer skin,
seventy-five cents; sea-dog skin, one rouble; black-bear skin, seven
roubles; brown-bear skin, five roubles; white-bear skin, twenty-five
roubles; walrus rope, two cents a yard; walrus ivory, from five cents
to one and a half roubles a tusk; mammoth tusk, five to six roubles;
fur coats, one and a half to five roubles; boots, twenty-five cents to
seventy-five cents a pair. For an ermine skin he is wont to receive
two needles or a piece of sugar as large as a thimble.
In exchange for these commodities the traders give tea, sugar, powder,
lead, cartridges, tobacco, bar iron one inch wide by a quarter of an
inch thick, needles, beads, and various other trinkets.
When the goods are marketed it is found that the company makes
anywhere from one hundred to one thousand per cent. profit. Tea, the
article most called for, allows only one hundred per cent. profit. On
sugar some three hundred per cent. is made, and on the trinkets and
other miscellaneous goods anywhere from five hundred to one thousand
per cent. is made.
[Illustration: Ghijiga River in Winter.]
Several significant facts are to be deduced from this list: first, the
low price that is paid for sables compared with the prices they bring
in the European market; second, the comparatively high price the skin
of the black fox brings, although it is only a fraction of what it
costs at home (a single skin has brought as high as four thousand
dollars in Paris); third, the extremely low cost of ermine; and
fourth, the fact that there is no active trade in mammoth tusks,
although they are plentiful. They are often ten feet in length, and it
might be supposed that they would contain ivory enough to make them
worth much more than they bring; but the fact is that it is fossil
ivory, and the outside of each tusk is so far broken and decayed that
only the very center of the tusk contains marketable ivory.
The common rule is to give the natives one year's credit; the tea,
sugar, tobacco, and other articles which they receive this year being
paid for by the skins which they bring next year. The plan works well,
for the natives are scrupulous in the payment of their debts. And
furthermore, the traders, being on the spot, have a wide personal
acquaintance among the natives and know just whom they can depend
upon.
Of course the most valuable portion of the produce of this north
country is sable skins. There are four kinds, or rather grades, of
sables. The finest come from the Lena River district; the second grade
from the territory of which we are writing and within a radius of five
hundred miles about the head of the Okhotsk Sea; the third grade from
the Amur River district, and the fourth from Manchuria. Generally, the
farther north one goes the better the sables.
Before Siberia was conquered by Russia, sables were extremely common,
but gradually they were pushed back by the coming of settlers, for
they will not remain in the vicinity of human dwellings. They live in
holes, as do the martens or ermines, but those who have studied their
habits say that they frequently build nests of sticks and grass in the
branches of trees, and use them alternately with their holes. They
usually sleep about half the day, and roam about in search of food the
other half. In the early spring they live on hares, though they will
also eat weasles or ermine. When the berries are in season they
subsist solely on cranberries, blueberries, and especially the berries
of the shad-bush. The natives say that eating these last causes them
to itch and rub themselves against the trees, which for the time being
spoils their fur; so that while the shad-bush is in berry no sables
are caught.
About the end of March the sable brings forth its young, from three to
five in the litter, and suckles them from four to six weeks.
The method of trapping sables has been well described by a quaint
writer near the beginning of the nineteenth century, and, as there
have been very few changes during the interval, he is worth quoting:
The sable hunters, whether Russian or native, begin to set
out for hunting about the beginning of September. Some
Russians go themselves, and others hire people to hunt for
them, giving them proper clothes and instruments for
hunting, and provisions for the time of their being out.
When they return from the chase they give their masters all
the game, and restore them likewise all that they received,
except the provisions.
A company that agrees to hunt together assembles from six to
forty men, though formerly there were sometimes even fifty.
They provide a small boat for every three or four men, which
they cover over; and take with them such persons as
understand the language of the people among whom they go to
hunt, and likewise the places properest for hunting. These
persons they maintain at the public charge, and give them,
besides, an equal share of the game.
In these boats every hunter lays thirty poods of rye-flour,
one pood[2] of wheat-flour, one pood of salt, and a quarter
of a pood of groats. Every two men must have a net, a dog,
and several poods of provisions for the dog, a bed and
covering, a vessel for preparing their bread, and a vessel
to hold leaven. They carry with them very few firearms.
[2] Russian weight equivalent to thirty-six pounds
avoirdupois.
The boats are then drawn up-stream as far as they can go,
where the hunters build for themselves. Here they all
assemble and live until the river is frozen over. In the
mean time they choose for their chief leader one who has
been oftenest upon these expeditions; and to his orders they
profess an entire obedience. He divides the company into
several small parties, and names a leader to each, except
his own, which he himself directs; he also appoints the
places where each party is to hunt. As soon as the season
begins, this division into small parties is unalterable,
even though the whole company consists of only eight or
nine, for they never all go toward the same place. When
their leaders have given them their orders, every small
company digs pits upon the road by which they must go. In
these pits they lay up for every two men three bags of flour
against their return, when they shall have consumed all
their other provisions; and whatever they have left in the
huts they are obliged to hide also in pits, lest the wild
inhabitants should steal it.
As soon as the rivers are frozen over and the season is
proper for the sable hunting, the chief of the leaders calls
all the huntsmen into the hut, and, having prayed to God,
gives orders to every chief of each small company, and
despatches them the same road which was before assigned
them. Then the leader sets out one day before the rest to
provide lodging-places for them.
When the chief leader despatches the under-leaders he gives
them several orders; one of which is that each should build
his first lodging in honor of some church, which he names,
and the other lodgings to some such saint whose image he has
with him, and that the first sable they catch should be laid
aside in the quarter of the church, and at their return be
presented to it. These sables they call "God's Sables," or
the church's. The first sable that is caught in the quarter
of each saint is given to the person who brought the image
of that saint with him.
On their march they support themselves with a wooden crutch
about four feet long; upon the end of which they put a cow's
horn, to keep it from being split by the ice, and a little
above they bind it around with thongs to keep it from
sinking too deep in the snow. The upper part is broad like a
spade, and serves to shovel away the snow or to take it up
and put it into their kettles, for they must use snow, as
they have frequently no water. The principal chief having
sent out the small parties, starts with his own. When they
come to the places of lodging they build little huts of
logs, and bank them up with snow round about. They hew
several trees upon the road, that they may the more easily
find their way in the winter. Near every quarter they
prepare their trap-pits, each of which is surrounded with
sharp stakes, about six or seven feet high, and about four
feet distant, and is covered over with boards to prevent the
snow from falling in. The entrance through the stakes is
narrow, and over it a board is hung so nicely that by the
least touch of the sables it turns and throws them into the
trap; and they must absolutely go this way to reach a piece
of fish or flesh with which the trap is baited. The hunters
stay in a station till they have a sufficient number of
traps set, every hunter being obliged to make twenty in a
day. When they have passed ten of these quarters the leader
sends back half of his company to bring up the provisions
that were left behind, and with the remainder he advances to
build more huts and set more traps.
These carriers must stop at all the lodging-places to see
that the traps are in order, and take out any sables they
may find in them, and skin them, which none must pretend to
do but the chief man of the company.
If the sables are frozen they thaw them out by putting them
under the bedclothes with them. When the skins are taken
off, all present sit down and are silent, being careful that
nothing is hanging on the stakes. The body of the sable is
laid upon dried sticks, and these are afterward lighted, the
body of the animal smoked, and then buried in the snow or
the earth. Often when they apprehend that the Tunguses may
meet them and take away their booty, they put the skins into
hollow pieces of wood and seal up the ends with snow, which
being wetted soon freezes. These they hide in the snow near
their huts, and gather them up when they return in a body.
When the carriers are come with provisions, then the other
half are sent for more; and thus they are employed in
hunting, the leader always going before to build traps. When
they find few sables in their traps they hunt with nets,
which they can only do when they find the fresh tracks of
sables in the snow. These they follow till it brings them
to the hole where the sable has entered; or if they lose it
near other holes, they put smoking pieces of rotten wood to
them, which generally forces the sable to leave the hole.
The hunter at the same time has spread his net, into which
the animal usually falls; and for precaution his dog is
generally near at hand. Thus the hunter sits and waits
sometimes two or three days. They know when the sable falls
into the net by the sound of two small bells which are
fastened to it. They never put smoky pieces of wood into
those holes which have only one opening, for the sable would
sooner be smothered than come towards the smoke, in which
case it is lost.
When the chief leader and all the hunters are gathered
together, then the leaders of the small parties report to
the chief how many sables or other beasts their party has
killed, and if any of the parties have done anything
contrary to his orders and the common laws. These crimes
they punish in different ways. Some of the culprits they tie
to a stake; others they oblige to ask pardon from every one
in the company; a thief they beat severely, and allow him no
part of the booty; nay, they even take his own baggage from
him and divide it among themselves. They remain in their
headquarters until the rivers are free of ice; and after the
hunting they spend their time preparing the skins. Then they
set out in the boats they came in, and when they get home
they give the sables to the several churches to which they
promised them; and then, having paid their fur-tax, they
sell the rest, dividing equally the money or goods which
they receive for them.
Before Kamchatka was conquered by the Russians the sables were so
plentiful that a hunter could easily take seventy or eighty in a
season, but they were esteemed more for their flesh than for their
fur. At first the natives paid their tribute in sables, and would give
eight skins for a knife and eighteen for an ax.
CHAPTER IX
OFF FOR THE NORTH--A RUNAWAY
My winter wardrobe of deerskin--Shoes that keep the feet
warm when it is sixty degrees below zero--_Plemania_, a
curious native food in tabloid form--Other
provisions--Outline of proposed exploration about the
sources of the Ghijiga River--Four hours of sun a day--When
dog meets deer--A race for life and a ludicrous
dénouement--More queer native dishes--Curious habits of the
sledge-dog.
I now set about preparing my winter wardrobe. With the aid of my good
friend Mrs. Braggin, several native women were set at work to make a
complete suit of native clothes, for I knew that only in these would I
be able to endure the rigors of their arctic winter. The trousers were
made of yearling-deer skin tanned soft on the inside, and the short
hair left on the outside. A short jacket of the same material
completed the inner suit. The socks were made of the same skin with
the fur left on the inside. They reached well to the knee. Over these
came a pair of boots made from skin taken from reindeer's legs, with
soles of seal-hide. A cushion of grass is used in the boot. The skin
taken from the reindeer's leg is better adapted to the manufacture of
boots than any other part of the skin, because the hair is shorter and
denser in growth. I also had boots with soles made of the fur which
grows between the toes of the reindeer, and which is of such a texture
that it prevents slipping on the ice. On each foot of the reindeer
there is a tuft of this hair about as large as a silver dollar, and it
takes twelve of them to make the sole of a single boot. These boots
are used only in extremely cold weather. Even with the thermometer
sixty degrees below zero they prevent cold feet.
For an overcoat I had a great koklanka made. It was shaped like a huge
night-gown, reaching to the knee. It was made of two thicknesses of
yearling-deer skin, and was provided with an ample hood. It is too
heavy to wear when walking, but is used in the dog- or deer-sledge and
when sleeping. It is usually belted in with a gay-colored woolen
scarf. For head-gear I wore a "Nansen" woolen hat capable of being
drawn down over the face. Without it my nose would have been severely
punished. My heavy mittens were made of fur from the deer's leg, with
the hair outside. Even in the worst of weather they were a complete
protection from cold. Of snow-shoes I took three pairs, two being
designed for use in soft snow. They measured five feet and ten
inches long by eight inches wide, being pointed and curved up in front
and gathered to a point at the back. They were shod with reindeer fur,
with the hair pointing back, thus preventing slipping. One pair for
use on hard snow were three feet long and eight inches wide.
[Illustration: Deer crossing River.]
An indispensable part of my equipment was a sleeping-bag made of the
thick winter fur of the reindeer, with the fur inside. It was provided
with a hood that, when pulled down, completely shut out the cold. One
would suppose that the sleeper must smother in such a case; but,
although at first it seemed rather close, I suffered no inconvenience.
Enough air found its way in around the edge of the hood for
respiration.
For provisions I first laid in several hundred pounds of _plemania_,
as the Russians call it. It consists of little balls of reindeer meat
chopped fine, and surrounded with a casing of dough. Each ball was
about the size of an English walnut. These froze immediately and
remained so till thrown into a pot of boiling water. Ten minutes then
sufficed to make a most tempting dish. To this I added several hundred
pounds of hard rye bread, which had been cut in slices and dried on
the top of the oven to the consistency of stone. Tea, sugar, and
tobacco were added as luxuries, though the first is well-nigh a
necessity, and all of them are potent levers in opening the hearts of
the native Korak or Tunguse. I took a small quantity of dried fruits,
which, of course, proved most useful in a land where food is almost
all of an animal nature.
It was my intention to explore first the mountains in which the
Ghijiga River has its source, together with the tributary streams; and
after that to cross over the mountains and explore the head waters of
the rivers flowing north into the Arctic Ocean. I anticipated that
this would take at least two months.
Old Chrisoffsky furnished six dog-sledges; he himself and two of his
sons acted as drivers. The other three drivers were hired from
Ghijiga. My party consisted, then, of the following members: my
faithful Kim, who stuck to me through thick and thin, though, at
first, he little dreamed how far I would take him from the pleasant
hills and valleys of his beloved Chosun; my Tunguse guide, Fronyo, who
had proved such a valuable help in my trip into his district; the six
drivers, myself, and the eighty-four dogs. I had left behind all my
Russian help, as they would have been of no value on such an
expedition as this.
The reader may imagine that our stock of food was small for such a
party, but we were going into a reindeer country where we were sure of
securing all the meat we wanted. So all the available space on the
sledges was loaded with dog-food--namely, salmon heads and backs. It
was now November, and there were only four hours of sunlight--from ten
to two. But the northerner does not depend on the sun. The glistening
snow and the stars overhead give sufficient light for ordinary travel.
[Illustration: Reindeer.]
We were off with a dash and a happy howl of mingled dogs and village
children, at one in the afternoon, and that night we spent at
Chrisoffsky's village. The next morning we were off again in the gray
light at seven o'clock, up the bed of the Ghijiga River. The third day
out we neared the yourta of a wealthy Tunguse magistrate. At four
o'clock in the afternoon the dogs suddenly broke into a swift run, and
we knew they had scented something that interested them. We soon
perceived that we had struck a deer trail and that we were nearing an
encampment. We turned a bend in the road and there, a hundred yards
ahead of us, saw the cause of the dogs' excitement. A team of reindeer
were running for their lives. Their Tunguse driver was lashing them
with the whip and urging them on with all his might, for he knew as
well as we that if our dogs overtook them before the camp was reached,
we seven men would be utterly powerless to prevent the dogs from
tearing the deer to pieces. Chrisoffsky put on the brake with all his
might, but it had not the least effect. Our fourteen dogs had become
wolves in the turn of a hand and no brake could stop them. There were
many stumps and other obstructions along our path, and my driver had
great difficulty in preventing a smash-up. For a short time the deer
held their own, and, in fact, gained on us, but before the yourta came
in sight we were gaining rapidly. While we were still at some distance
the people of the village, warned by the cries of the dogs,
comprehended what was the matter, and, arming themselves with sticks
and spears, came running toward us. As they came on they spread out in
a fan-like formation across the trail. When the terrified deer reached
them they opened and let the team through, and instantly closed again
to dispute the passage of our dogs. Chrisoffsky was in no wise minded
to let these natives club his dogs and perhaps injure the valuable
animals, so he resorted to the last expedient. Giving a shout of
warning to me he suddenly, by a deft motion, turned our sledge
completely over, landing me in a snow-drift on my head. In this
position the sledge was all brake and the dogs were forced to stop,
leaping in their harness and yelling like fiends incarnate. I sat up
in the snow-bank and laughed. The other drivers had followed our
example, and the struggling tangle of sledges, harness, dogs and men
formed a scene that to the novice at least was highly ludicrous. The
drivers and the village people were belaboring the dogs, and the
entire herd of reindeer belonging to the village were escaping in all
directions up the hills.
When order was at last restored, which was not accomplished till every
deer was out of sight, we made our way to the yourta, which was large
and comfortable, and, as usual, the women set about making tea. The
reader may well ask how the natives can use both dogs and reindeer if
the very sight of a deer has such a maddening effect on the dogs. The
explanation is simple. The two never go together. There is the dog
country and the deer country, and the two do not impinge upon each
other. Even among the same tribe there may be a clear division. For
instance, there are the "Deer Koraks" and the "Dog Koraks." In some of
the villages of the former there may occasionally be seen a few
low-bred curs which are not used for sledging and have been trained
not to worry deer. Confusion is often unavoidably caused by traveling
with dogs through a deer country, but the natives do not take it in
ill part, knowing that if they themselves have to travel with deer
through a dog country they will cause quite as much inconvenience.
While we were drinking tea and eating hard bread I noted that the
settlement contained some thirty men, with their wives and children.
The women hastened to prepare a dinner of unborn-deer's flesh and deer
tongues. Frozen marrow bones, uncooked, were broken and the marrow, in
the shape of sticks or candles, was passed around as a great delicacy.
These dishes, together with frozen cranberries, formed our repast, and
a very good one we voted it.
When we were done I went outside and found, to my surprise, that the
dogs had not yet been fed. I remonstrated with Chrisoffsky, but he
answered that they had not yet finished their evening toilet. Then I
saw that the dogs were busy licking themselves and biting the pieces
of frozen snow out from between their toes. My driver explained that
if they were fed before performing this very necessary task, they
would immediately lie down to sleep and wake up in the morning with
sore feet and rheumatism, and then they would be useless for several
days. It takes the dogs a good hour before they have groomed
themselves fit for dinner. They seem to know that they can get nothing
to eat before this work is done, but the minute they have finished
they sit up and begin to howl for their meal. Each dog receives two or
three salmon backs and heads. This is a fairly good amount considering
that the salmon were originally eighteen- or twenty-pound fish. The
dogs were all left in harness and still attached to the main tug.
This is pulled taut and anchored at the front with the polka, which
prevents the dogs from fighting, for no more than two can reach each
other at a time. As they feed, the drivers watch them to see that they
do not steal each other's food. After they finish their dinner they
scratch a shallow place in the snow, curl up with their backs to the
wind and go to sleep. They are never unfastened from the sledge from
one end of the journey to the other. They literally live in the
harness. While the dogs were eating, the mongrel curs belonging to the
encampment (an entirely different breed from the sledge-dog) stood
around and yelped saucily at the big intruders, but the sledge-dogs
gave them no notice whatever.
[Illustration: Theodosia Chrisoffsky, Guide.]
The dogs sleep quietly all night unless one of them happens to raise
his nose and emit a long-drawn howl. At this signal they all join in
the howl for about three minutes, stopping at the same instant. If
some puppy happens to give an additional yelp, all the others turn a
disgusted look at him as if, indeed, he ought to display better
manners. This howling concert generally comes off two or three times a
night. We do not know what causes it, but probably it is some
subconscious recollection of their ancestral wolfhood. The same thing
happens whenever the team stops on the road. They all sit and howl for
several minutes.
On the road the dogs are fed simply with the dried fish heads and
backs; but at home a more elaborate meal is prepared for them. Water
is put into a sort of trough, and then rotten fish, which has been
kept in pits, is added, with a few of the dried fish, and the whole is
cooked by throwing in red-hot stones. This is fed to the dogs only at
night. In the summer-time the dogs have to forage for themselves,
which they do by digging out tundra-rats. By the time summer is over
the dogs are so fat that they have to be tied up and systematically
starved till brought into condition for the sledge again. This period
is one long concert of howls, but the natives do not seem to mind it.
The food of the dogs is entirely carnivorous, for they would rather
live by gnawing their own harness than to eat bread, even if the
latter could be supplied. The instinct by which these animals foresee
the coming of a blizzard is truly wonderful. The unfailing sign of a
coming storm is the pawing of the snow. For what reason they paw the
snow will probably never be known. This, too, may be some residual
taint of their original savage state.
CHAPTER X
THROUGH THE DRIFTS
Sledging over snow four feet deep--Making a camp in the
snow--Finding traces of gold--A grand slide down a
snow-covered hill--My polka breaks with disastrous
results--Prospecting over the Stanovoi range.
The next morning we had before us ten miles of forest in which the
snow lay four feet deep, and the trail was unbroken. This meant
serious work for our teams. At the advice of Chrisoffsky I hired two
reindeer narties to go ahead and break the trail, but they had to keep
a mile in advance, out of sight of our dogs. The snow had been falling
all night, and when we came out in the morning, we saw only a lot of
little snow hummocks, like baby graves in the snow. Chrisoffsky cried,
"Hyuk, hyuk!" and there occurred a most surprising resurrection. Every
dog jumped clear of the ground from his warm bed and clamored to be
off. I looked to see them fed, but nothing were they to have till
their day's work was done. When fed during the day they are lazy and
useless, but with the anticipation of salmon heads before them they
push on heroically. It would be difficult to express adequately my
admiration for these animals. They are patient, faithful, and always
ready for work.
A mile, then, in the lead went the reindeer narties to break the
trail; and ahead of them were two Tunguse villagers on snow-shoes to
mark the way for the deer.
A mile in the rear came the dogs, and heavy work it was, as is shown
by the fact that when lunch-time came we had made only five miles.
When we came up with the Tunguses they had already built a fire, and
water was boiling. The deer were tethered in the bushes about two
hundred yards away, out of sight of the dogs. The latter smelled them,
however, and were making desperate efforts to break out of their
harness and give chase, but their efforts seemed futile, so we paid no
more attention to them. As we were busy drinking tea I happened to
look around, and was dismayed to see that the worst dog in the pack
had broken loose and was already near the deer, who were plunging and
making desperate efforts to escape. When the dog was almost at the
throat of the nearest deer it broke its fastenings and made off
through the snow, followed by the rest of the herd. We hurried after
them on our snow-shoes at our best speed. The deer could easily
outstrip the dog in the deep snow, but we wanted to stop the chase
before they were completely frightened away. But we were too late. By
the time that we had secured the dog the deer were a mile away, making
straight for home, and we knew that nothing could stop them till they
found themselves in their own village.
[Illustration: Mr. Vanderlip and Reindeer Team.]
Thus it came about that we had to break our own trail for the balance
of the way through the woods. This proved to be extremely difficult.
Every man had to put his shoulder to the wheel, or rather to the
sledge, and frequently it was necessary to use several teams of dogs
on a single sledge, and then return for the other sledge. When night
came we found that we had covered nine miles, after an exceedingly
hard day's work. We were still a mile from the river, where we were
sure to find a good road on the ice.
We had now to prepare for the night. With our snow-shoes for shovels
we cleared a space twelve feet square right down to the ground, and
built a roaring fire in the center of the cleared spot. The loaded
sledges were placed on the banks about the sides, while the dogs lay,
as usual, in the snow. Our sleeping-bags were placed about the fire on
piles of fir boughs, and after a good supper of reindeer soup, bread,
and tea, we lay down and went to sleep. A light snow covered us with a
mantle of down, which ensured our warmth.
When I awoke in the morning and opened my hood, I found two inches of
snow over me. That day we floundered through the remaining mile of
deep snow to the river. I was pushing one of the sledges, when we came
to the steep bank that leads down to the river. The sled began to
glide down the declivity, settling deeper and deeper. Chrisoffsky
called to me to get on quickly, as there was open water beneath, but
he was too late. I was already in the icy water up to my knees. We had
unfortunately struck a snow-bridge over open water. The sled was fast
in the snow, and the dogs were struggling madly. By vigorous pulling
and pushing we managed to get the sledge out on to the ice. The other
drivers, who were behind, saw our predicament and went up-stream,
prodding with their polkas until they found solid ice beneath.
Chrisoffsky immediately began taking the lashings off the pack on the
sled to get me dry fur socks and boots. Almost before I could undo the
lashings, those I wore were frozen stiff. The last one was cut away
with a knife. I applied a vigorous rubbing with snow to my feet and
they were soon glowing with warmth. Then pulling on the warm, soft fur
socks and fresh boots, I found that I had suffered no harm; but
Chrisoffsky warned me that whenever I had wet feet I must change
immediately or serious consequences would result. At the time, the
thermometer stood between ten and fifteen degrees below zero.
On examining the wind-swept bars of the creek there seemed to be good
promise of gold, so making camp near timber I prepared for a three or
four days' stay. The ground was frozen to bed-rock, and it was
necessary to thaw it out all the way down. The following day I
unloaded the sledges and sent them into the woods under the direction
of Chrisoffsky to haul in fuel for the fires. I selected a likely spot
and proceeded to thaw out a shaft. As this was very slow work, I
determined to try it in several places at the same time. After the
fires had burned three hours the picks and shovels would be called
into play, and we could take out about twelve or fifteen inches of
gravel. The surface gravel showed some small "colors" in the pan, and
I determined to set watches and keep the fires going night and day. A
windlass was rigged over one of the shafts, and we went down
twenty-five feet, till we came to boulders which showed that we were
near bed-rock. Six inches more brought us to the end. I eagerly panned
out some of the gravel and found several tiny nuggets, but was forced
to admit that there was not enough gold to pay for working. The other
shafts showed the same results; so we were compelled to move on after
four days of exhausting and fruitless work. We repeated this
operation at several other points on the river, and carefully examined
the outcroppings all along the stream. Coming to the head of the
river, we crossed over the summit of the ridge. The aneroid showed
that we were seven thousand six hundred feet above the sea level. When
we reached the top, we found that a long, smooth stretch of snow swept
down into the valley beyond. For a quarter of a mile the smooth, hard
surface was unbroken by bush or stone. I asked Chrisoffsky how it
would do to slide down, but he shook his head and replied that it
would be dangerous for dogs and sledges alike. I had, however,
conceived the foolish notion that it would relieve the monotony of
life a little to slide down that incline, and I over-persuaded my
driver to make the attempt. Moreover, it would save several miles of
travel over a safer but more circuitous route. The dogs were
unhitched. Chrisoffsky's two sons took one of the sledges, and, by
sticking their heels into the snow, slid about half way down somewhat
slowly, then they both climbed on to the sledge, stuck their polkas
into the snow for brakes, and "let her go." They went the remaining
distance like an arrow, and shot out into the plain below
triumphantly. They stopped and waved their hands as much as to say,
"See how easy it is." Chrisoffsky then sent down one team of dogs,
still fastened to the tug. This was a mistake, for the leaders went
cautiously and the others crowded on them. In an instant they were one
howling, wrangling ball of dog-fur rolling down the hill. The natives
were all shouting and cursing their liveliest, but I could only hold
my sides with laughter. I utterly refused to see the serious side of
the adventure. The remaining dogs were sent down two and two.
Chrisoffsky and I, with one sled, were the last to go. Sitting on
opposite sides of the sledge with our polkas carefully adjusted, we
slipped over the brink and shot down the hill. By some perverse chance
my polka broke in my hands, the sledge slewed around, and we both went
head over heels. I landed on my head some yards from the careening
sledge and continued my journey down the hill in a variety of
attitudes, all of which were exciting, but none very comfortable. Had
I not been so heavily bundled up I could not have escaped serious
injury. Old Chrisoffsky and the sledge were a good second in the race,
first one and then the other being on top. They held together bravely.
When we all rounded up at the bottom and took an inventory of damages,
we found that there were no bones broken and that no harm had been
done, except to my Winchester rifle, the barrel of which was sprung.
[Illustration: Native Winter Camp.]
And as the days passed, I continued to busy myself examining the
outcroppings or digging in the creek beds for signs of gold, until
about the middle of December, by which time I had gone over that
section of the Stanovoi range pretty thoroughly as far as their
southern slopes were concerned. And then I essayed to pass over the
lofty range to discover what was on the other side.
CHAPTER XI
BURIED IN A BLIZZARD
A trip to the northern side of the Stanovoi range of
mountains--Nijni Kolymsk, the most-feared convict
station--Sledging by light of the aurora--Lost in a blizzard
on the vast tundra--Five days in a snow dugout--I earn a
reputation as a wizard--Back at Chrisoffsky's.
In order to reach the northern side of the Stanovoi range of mountains
it was necessary to make use of one of the few passes that are to be
found. At an elevation of nine thousand feet, we succeeded in
accomplishing the passage, and found ourselves on the head waters of
the Kolyma River. The name as given in that locality was more like
Killamoo than Kolyma. Due north, far across the wastes of snow, was
the town of Nijni Kolymsk, the spot most dreaded by Siberian convicts.
This station is used only for the most dangerous political prisoners.
About their only occupation is to gather hay and pick berries in
summer. Provisions are carried to them in the summer by a man-of-war.
None but Russians in authority are ever allowed near the place. The
natives could give me very little definite information about it. They
had strict orders from the magistrate in Ghijiga not to approach this
convict station.
We swung to the northeast and east, which course would bring us back
to Ghijiga. Wherever it was possible we examined the float rock and
sunk shafts to determine whether any of the precious metal was hidden
away in the mountains or beneath the waters of the streams. As we came
back over the mountains our course lay over the head waters of the
Paran River, which runs southeasterly and enters the Okhotsk Sea. We
passed over the divide between this and the Ghijiga, and tried to
steer a straight course for Chrisoffsky's house. Here we came to a
stretch of tundra two hundred miles wide. The snow was hard and the
going very good. We struck the trail of a number of "dog" Koraks who
were, evidently, bringing in their furs. The tundra was as level as a
floor, and the driving was so easy that it was possible to sit and
doze while the dogs sped over the white expanse.
As it was now December the nights were made bright by the light of the
aurora, while at noon the sun just shone, a red disk, above the
southern horizon. This is the month noted in that region for its
severe storms. The days were mostly overcast. The second morning after
we had started out across the tundra a light flurry of snow blew up.
Chrisoffsky shook his head and said it was going to storm. We were
just half way across the bare tundra, the worst place possible in
which to try to weather one of these storms, because of the utter lack
of fire-wood. Chrisoffsky called back to me that he was looking for a
_porgo_, which, in his dialect, means a blizzard. About noon the storm
struck us with full force. I was continually standing up in the sledge
to catch a sight, if possible, of some trailing pine where we could
make an excavation and find fire-wood; but it was all in vain. At last
the dogs lost sight of the trail and could follow it only by the sense
of smell. When the snow came down so heavily that we could hardly see
our leading dogs, we halted to let the others catch up with us. With
our snow-shoes we dug down six feet to the ground, making an
excavation that was, roughly, eight feet square. Placing the three
sledges around the edge of the hole, we banked them in with snow. Then
we took a tarpaulin from one of the sledges and with walrus-hide rope
improvised a sort of roof over our dug-out. The dogs, after washing
themselves, dug holes in the snow and settled down comfortably to
sleep. They were almost immediately covered with snow. At this time
the thermometer stood thirty-five below zero. We could not tell
whether it was actually snowing or whether the snow was only being
driven by the wind, but at any rate, the air was filled with it and
the prospect was anything but exhilarating. We lined the bottom of the
hole with furs, got out our sleeping-bags, and prepared for a long
siege.
As we were without fuel, we had to eat cold food. Frozen reindeer meat
taken raw is not an appetizing dish, but this, together with hard
bread and pounded soup-ball, formed our diet for the next few days. As
we had but few fish left, the dogs were put on short allowance. In
this snowy prison we were held for four mortal days, and were obliged
to climb out every three or four hours and relieve the tarpaulin of
the weight of snow. Our furs were damp, caused by our breath, which
congealed and thawed again from the warmth of the body; to say the
very least of it, we were extremely uncomfortable. At last it got so
bad that I gave orders to burn one of the sledges, and that day we
feasted on hot tea. Our deer meat was all gone, so we stopped feeding
the dogs, and appropriated the remaining fish to our own use. The
result was that the dogs began gnawing their harness, and had to be
chained up with dog-chains which we carried for the purpose. The time
spent in our snow retreat was not entirely lost. To while away the
tedious hours I gave my arctic friends some lessons in astronomy,
using snowballs as object-lessons. It was not an ideal observatory,
but there was at least snow enough to have represented all the
heavenly bodies, down to fixed stars of the fourteenth magnitude. It
all began by their asking how God made the aurora. On the side of our
excavation I made a rough bas-relief of the great masonic temple in
Chicago. They looked at it very politely, but I could see that they
took me for the past master of lying. I told them all about elections,
telephones, phonographs, and railroads, and gathered from their
expression that they thought I had gone mad from the cold and
exposure. They looked at one another and muttered, "Duroc, duroc,"
which is Russian for crazy.
I also amused myself at their expense by the use of a compass and a
little pocket magnet; the latter I palmed and with it made the
magnetic needle play all sorts of antics. They asked what made the
needle move about continually, and I replied that it would point to
any place that I might designate, by simply requesting it to do so.
Chrisoffsky, the skeptical, thought he had caught me, for he
immediately asked me to make it point toward Ghijiga. Now I happened
to know about where Ghijiga lay, for just before the storm came on I
had caught a glimpse of a mountain near that town. So I put the
compass in my lap, palmed the magnet, and began muttering and waving
my hand over the compass. At the same time I repeated, in sepulchral
tones, the magic formula:
Ere eirie ickery Ann,
Fillisy follisy Nicholas John,
Queevy quavy English navy,
Stickelum stackelum Johniko buck!
The hand with the magnet was now in the proper position, and the
needle pointed steadily toward Ghijiga. Old Chrisoffsky sat with
amazement and fear pictured all over his face. He glanced over his
shoulder as if looking for some place to run, and exclaimed in a deep
and piteous tone, "Dia Bog!" which means, "O Lord."
After a long silence he asked me if the compass would answer his
questions as well. I said I did not know, but that he might try it and
see. Concentrating his whole attention upon the compass, he bent over
it and tried to imitate my motions, and asked the instrument to tell
him the direction in which his house lay. Of course the needle, which,
meanwhile, I had been causing to swing about in all directions, now
came to a standstill due north, directly away from his house. He
looked puzzled and said it must be because he did not understand the
wizard formula, and I promised to teach it to him at some future time.
I also performed some other simple tricks, which actually
frightened him so that for a time he went out and sat in the snow all
alone. I found later that my reputation as a wizard spread through
that whole district, and time and time again I had to go over these
old tricks before admiring audiences.
[Illustration: Mr. Vanderlip on March with Deer Outfit.]
During the night of the fifth day the storm passed and the stars came
out once more. Our bedraggled party crawled forth from our prison, and
harnessed up the weak, but willing, dogs, who seemed to know that we
were not far from home; for they tugged at their collars gladly, and
we were soon gliding over the snow.
Ten miles from Chrisoffsky's house we came down upon the wind-swept
ice of the Chorny Raichka, a tributary of the Ghijiga. From this point
the going was ideal. We had timber on both sides, but we did not stop
to build a fire. The dogs were very weak, yet they displayed wonderful
mettle, knowing they were near home. They went so fast that the
sledges were continually slewing about on the smooth ice in imminent
danger of capsizing; but they were steadied by a clever use of the
polka.
While still a mile from Chrisoffsky's, we saw women and children
running out to meet us. Because of the storm and the fact that we were
two weeks overdue, we knew that there would be anxious mothers and
wives in the little village. We came in with a flourish, a score of
children hanging on the sides of the sledges. We encountered a
terrific storm of kisses, which I evaded as best I could. Willing
hands unhitched the faithful dogs, and then we all went into the
house. The village was warned of our approach while still far away,
because each dog carried a little sleigh-bell on his back. The people
had heard the tinkling of the bells sometime before we had come in
sight.
To say that we fed off the fat of the land is literally true. Seal
fat, deer fat, marrow fat, blubber galore with cranberries, and tea by
the gallon. For once I gladly exchanged snow for vermin. Perhaps the
greatest comfort was the opportunity to wash my face and hands, which
I had not been able to do for seven days.
CHAPTER XII
CHRISTMAS--THE "DEER KORAKS"
I celebrate Christmas day with the over-kind assistance of
two hundred natives--Koraks as sharp-shooters--Comic
features of a Russian dance--Off for Kaminaw--Another
runaway--Slaughtering deer--A curious provision of
nature--Eight families in one yourta--Korak method of
washing dishes--A herd of ten thousand deer.
When I reached town the Russians desired to know what I had
accomplished, and I was obliged to tell them that I had discovered no
considerable deposits of gold on the head waters of the Ghijiga.
Some time before this I had caused it to become known that I would pay
liberally in tea or other commodities for bags of rock picked up in
the beds of streams and delivered in Ghijiga. I now found upward of a
ton of such specimens awaiting my inspection. This was my information
bureau. I had found the natives trustworthy, and I knew they would not
pick up specimens near by and claim they had been brought from a
distance. Some that I thus examined had been brought seven hundred
miles. By a careful examination and classification of these specimens
I was able to determine the various geological formations of the
district, and the next three weeks were spent in this important work.
I wanted to be off again promptly, but as Christmas was at hand, it
was impossible to secure dog-teams; so I was obliged to rest.
As I sat in my cabin on Christmas eve, thinking over old times, and
feeling, perhaps, a trifle blue, I determined to usher in the great
day with some éclat. So I loaded up every firearm that I had, and when
midnight came I stepped outside and "let loose" with revolvers,
rifles, and shotguns. The first effect was to wake up four hundred
dogs, who responded with howls and barks, which they kept up till
morning. At seven o'clock, my Russian friends came flocking over to
find out what I was celebrating. I told them that it was our Christmas
day. Their Christmas comes twelve days later than ours. When they
found out the cause of my exhilaration they slipped away, but within
three hours the women and children began to appear, each loaded with a
steaming dish. There were meats, fowls, berries, pasties, fish,
blubber, stuffed ptarmigan, deer tongues, and other things--enough to
feed a hundred men. When the table was so full that it could hold no
more, they put the dishes on the floor. I knew well that they had
brought much more than I could handle, and I was somewhat embarrassed
by their excessive generosity. But my fears were ill-founded, for soon
the whole village began to arrive. The priests and magistrates came
first, and then the rest in descending scale, and by the time they
were done, all the good things that they had brought had been
consumed, as well as all that I could obtain from Mrs. Braggin. Two
hundred were fed, and by night I was entirely cleaned out--cupboard,
shelf, and cellar. What the small children could not eat they put in
their pockets. The Russian storekeepers sent me a bag of coppers,
telling me that it was the custom to give each child a coin on such
occasions. When I went to bed at night, I determined that I would
never again disturb the peace of Christmas night with firearms.
On New Year's eve, fearing that the ceremony might be repeated, I
stole away on my snow-shoes and spent the day hunting ptarmigan. I had
good luck, and bagged all I could carry. These beautiful little birds
are about the size of a pigeon, but of heavier build. In summer their
color is brown, but in winter it is pure white, and they sit
motionless in the snow, so that it is almost impossible to discover
them. The native boys kill them with bows and arrows. Almost all the
natives of the far north are good shots, being trained to it from
boyhood. In order to catch ermine and _belk_ (arctic squirrel) they
must be marksmen of the first order; for these animals are small, and
must be shot in the head, or the skin is worthless. For this purpose,
twenty-two caliber rifles of German manufacture are used. They are
muzzle-loaders, and can be purchased in Vladivostok for four roubles.
The natives rig them up with a forked rest, and an ermine at
seventy-five yards stands no chance of escape.
About twenty years ago the Russian Government sent a company of expert
Cossack rifle-men into this north country to teach the natives how to
shoot. These instructors never got further than Ghijiga, though it had
been the plan to distribute them throughout the district. Targets were
set up, and the Cossacks did some fancy shooting. The natives looked
on stolidly, and when asked to shoot, declined to do so, but called up
some of their boys, who easily worsted the Cossacks at their own game.
The natives were always curious about my Colts forty-five caliber
six-shooters, as this weapon is not known in that section. In my
younger days, I had seen something of Arizona and Texas life, and
thought I was a pretty fair shot. One day a native with whom I was
stopping asked me to let him have a shot with my revolver. I tore a
small piece of paper from my note-book and pinned it on a tree about
twenty yards distant. I shot first, and came within an inch or so of
the paper--a fairly good shot; but the old Korak took the weapon, and,
bringing it slowly into position, let drive, and hit the paper. I
could detect no look of exultation on his face, nor on that of any
spectator. They took it as a matter of course that their tribesman
should out-shoot me with my own weapon, the very first time he ever
had one like it in his hand. I have never tried to shoot against a
Korak since then. My only consolation was that it might have been an
accident, for he refused to shoot again, although I pressed him to do
so. For hunting large game, they use a forty-four caliber Winchester,
or a forty-five caliber German muzzle-loader.
The feasting at the Russian Christmas-tide lasts fully three days. In
the morning the entire population attends church, after which,
apparently, a contest ensues as to who shall get drunk first; and the
priest generally wins. They hitch up their dog-teams, and go from
house to house, feasting and drinking. Etiquette demands that a man
use his team, even if calling at a house ten rods away. The women
troop about in gay dresses of calico, with bright silk handkerchiefs
over their heads, and the men in their best furs, embroidered with
silk. One of the most distinctive features of a Christmas celebration
is that each person takes a full bath with soap, before the great day
is ushered in. At the same time, the hair is combed and done up
afresh. The transformation is so great that it is often hard even for
bosom friends to recognize one another. All day long bands of boys go
about singing carols. They enter one's home, and bow before the icon,
and sing their songs, after which it is the proper thing to give each
of them a coin or something to eat. In the evening, young men repeat
the same performance, except that they bring large illuminated wheels,
which they whirl before the icon as they sing the Christmas hymns.
They receive about half a rouble apiece for this service.
The next day I started in to return their calls. It is an insult not
to taste every dish on the table of your host, and the result was that
I soon reached my utmost capacity. In the evening, I dined with Mrs.
Braggin, and afterward the room was cleared, and the whole village
came in for a dance. For music, we had a piano, an accordion, and a
violin; the last was played by an old Russian, who knew sixteen bars
of a single tune, and repeated it over and over, _ad nauseam_. In this
primitive fashion, we made merry till the morning. The dance was a
curious kind of quadrille, in which the men did almost all the
dancing. The ladies stood at the corners, and the men in the center.
The men danced very energetically, with many steps that resemble the
"bucking" and "winging" of the negro in the United States. At the same
time, they shouted at the top of their voices. As for the women, they
merely moved forward and back, with little mincing steps, and then
turned around in their places. All this time the samovar was going
full blast, and every one was streaming with perspiration.
[Illustration: Reindeer.]
About midnight, the fun grew fast and furious, and every one started
in to kiss and hug his neighbor; for by this time, more than half were
intoxicated. The worst feature of such a Russian festive occasion is,
that every one grows fearfully affectionate as he begins to feel the
effect of the liquor.
When the Christmas festivities were over, I made preparations to carry
out a more extensive plan of exploration. It was my purpose to examine
the valleys of the rivers running from the Stanovoi range of mountains
into Bering Sea; the beaches along the shore of that sea, and then to
turn south to Baron Koff Bay, on the eastern coast of Kamchatka, where
sulphur deposits were said to have been found; then across the neck of
the Kamchatka Peninsula to Cape Memaitch, and around the head of the
Okhotsk Sea to Ghijiga, my starting-point. This trip was in the form
of a rough circle, and the total distance, including excursions,
proved to be upward of twenty-five hundred miles. This distance I had
to cover between January 15 and May 15, when the road would no longer
be passable for sledges.
My first work was to select and buy the best sledge-dogs to be found
in the town. By this time, I had become fairly adept at driving a
dog-team. Old Chrisoffsky did not care to undertake such a long trip,
and so I selected as my head driver a half-caste named Metrofon
Snevaydoff. Two villagers also contracted to go as far as the village
of Kaminaw, which lies three hundred miles to the northeast of
Ghijiga. They would not go further, because the country beyond this
was unknown to them. But the magistrate gave me a letter to two
Cossacks stationed at Kaminaw, requesting them to furnish native
dog-teams to take me on east from that point. I took but little
dog-food, as the territory through which I was going abounds in
reindeer, and we could get all the meat we needed. Provisions were
beginning to run low in Ghijiga, and all I could buy was tea, sugar,
tobacco, and a little dried fruit.
It was the middle of January when we started out, all in good health
and spirits. The thermometer stood at forty-six below zero. The dogs
were fat, and their feet were in good condition. We whirled out of the
village at breakneck speed, followed by friendly cries of "Dai Bog
chust leewee budet!" ("God give you good luck!")
I had all I could do to manage my team. The road was worn perfectly
smooth, and the sledge would slew about from side to side in constant
danger of striking some obstruction and going over. I had to pull off
my koklanka and work in my sweater, and yet even in that biting air
the exercise kept me quite warm. In two hours the dogs settled down to
a steady six-mile gait, and, leaving old Chrisoffsky's house on the
left, I laid a direct course over the tundra for the mountains now
visible far to the northeast. By five o'clock, we saw signs of deer,
which showed us that we were nearing the encampment that was to be our
lodging-place for the night. Mounting a rise of land, we beheld,
scattered over the face of the landscape, thousands of reindeer which
belonged to the denizens of half a dozen skin yourtas, sheltered from
the wind in the valley below.
Snevaydoff's team, which was in the lead, caught the scent of the
deer, and dashed down the hill, and I after him, though I jammed my
polka down and braked with all my might. It had no effect on my
speed, and I saw that I was simply being run away with. On the left,
near a yourta, a bunch of deer were standing, and, in spite of all my
efforts, my dogs left the road and bolted straight for them. The deer
bounded away in mad flight. Snevaydoff had already turned his sledge
over and brought his team to a halt, but I was enjoying a new
sensation. I pulled out my polka and "let her slide," literally. I was
minded to save the Koraks the trouble of slaughtering a few of their
deer by doing it myself. Just as "Old Red" got a good mouthful of
hair, our flight suddenly came to an end with the sledge turning
upside down. The natives hurried up and caught the dogs, and, bringing
them down to the yourtas, fastened them securely.
I have coursed antelope in Texas, and in Arizona have picked wild
turkeys from the ground while on horseback, but for good exhilarating
sport give me fourteen wild sledge-dogs, the open tundra, and a bunch
of deer ahead.
I found, to my surprise and pleasure, that the old Korak in charge of
the village was the one who had helped me the summer before when I was
trying to find my way back to Ghijiga. I was now better able to talk
with him than I had been at that time, especially as I had Snevaydoff
for interpreter. After tea, I went outside to see how things were
getting on. Four men were out among the herd, lassoing those intended
for slaughter. They did it much after the fashion of cow-boys at home.
Having secured an animal, two men held it while a third drew out a
long, keen knife and plunged it into the animal's heart. The poor
beast would give one or two wild leaps, and then fall dead. The Koraks
do not bleed their animals when they butcher them. This scene was
enacted three times, each deer being intended as food for a single
team of dogs. It took place in plain sight of the dogs, who leaped in
their collars, and yelled applause at every stroke of the knife.
[Illustration: Herd of Reindeer.]
The men's work ended with killing the deer, and the women and children
followed, the former with sharp knives, and the latter with bowls. It
was their part of the work to skin and cut up the dead deer. With a
deft stroke, they ripped up the belly and drew out the entrails, being
very careful to leave all the coagulated blood in the abdominal
cavity. When the viscera had all been removed, the carcass was tipped
up, and the blood was caught in the bowls, and carried to the dogs.
The tongue and the leg-bones were removed and laid aside for home use,
and all the rest of the carcass went to the dogs.
As the women were skinning the deer, I noticed that every few moments
they would lean down and tear off, with their teeth, little round
protuberances which grew on the under side of the skin. These were an
inch long by a quarter of an inch thick, and were bedded in the skin,
and surrounded with fat. They proved to be bots, formed by a fly that
is the special torment of the deer in summer. On one skin I counted
more than four hundred of them. A little child came up and offered me
a handful. I found that they are considered a delicacy by the natives.
The flies deposit minute eggs in the skin in mid-summer, and the larva
lies under the skin, imbedded in fat. The following spring the deer is
tormented with itching, and rubs against anything it can find, and so
liberates the larva, which comes forth in the shape of a fly, an inch
in length, only to repeat the same operation. It is a marvelous
provision of nature that teaches the fly to seek the only place where
its larvæ can be kept warm and safe during the terrible cold of
winter.
When the last deer had been skinned, the men brought axes and chopped
the carcasses into equal portions, each dog receiving a good ten
pounds. When I went back to the yourta I left them snarling and
growling over their meal, like so many wolves.
The yourtas of these natives are covered with deerhides. The hair is
cut down to a quarter of an inch in length, and is put on the
outside. The construction of the frame-work of the yourta is very
ingenious, and is the result of centuries of experimenting. They
require no guy-ropes to keep them erect, but the frame-work of poles
is so constructed and so braced on the inside that they resist the
most violent wind. After the poles are lashed in place by the women
the deerhides are fastened over them separately, not sewed together;
for this would make it difficult to move readily. At the top there is,
of course, the usual exit for the smoke.
The yourta that I entered was about thirty-five feet in diameter and
fourteen feet high, and divided, by means of skin curtains, into eight
little booths or apartments, each of which could be entirely closed,
to secure privacy. These little booths are arranged around the side of
the yourta, and each one is occupied by an entire family. The booths
are eight feet long, five feet high, and six feet wide, and are heated
only by lamps. The great fire in the center of the yourta is not
primarily for heat, but for cooking purposes, all the families using
it in common. The various kettles are hung over the fire by means of
wooden hooks. The food is either boiled or eaten raw. They do not seem
to know the use of the frying-pan.
The main door of the yourta is formed by two flaps of deer skin, an
inner and an outer one, which gives the effect of a storm-door. The
dogs generally huddle between the two, and occasionally one of them
sneaks into the yourta itself, only to be promptly kicked out.
Our dinner consisted of boiled deer ribs, sticks of frozen marrow, and
half-digested moss, taken from the stomach of the deer. This last was
cooked in seal oil, and looked much like spinach. I found some
difficulty in bringing myself to eat it, but I craved vegetable food
so keenly that at last I was able to overcome my repulsion, and found
it not so bad after all. The reindeer, therefore, furnishes the Korak
with meat, clothing, shelter, and vegetable food. The dinner was
served on wooden plates, and conveyed to the mouth with fingers,
except that for the "spinach" they had spoons carved from the horn of
the mountain-sheep. The host persisted in offering me the daintiest
lumps of fat in his fingers; and I accepted them. In that far northern
latitude, we all craved fat or any kind of oil. The women did not eat
with us. The host and I sat in one of the little booths, while the
women remained outside by the fire. The children, however, could not
resist the temptation to "peek," and they lay on the ground, looking
up from below the edge of the skin partitions, like a row of
detached heads, with the eyes blinking solemnly at me.
[Illustration: Reindeer, Herders in background.]
After we had eaten, I made them all happy by sending Snevaydoff out to
the sledge for some tea, and some broken bits of sugar. The host
brought out the family treasures, the gaudy cups which I have
heretofore mentioned. The women licked the saucers, and wiped them
with moss, after which tea was served.
Strange is the effect of environment; a year previous, no inducement
could have made me use those cups after seeing them cleansed in that
fashion. Was I, after all, a savage, and civilization but a thin
veneer? I found myself at times looking at life from the standpoint of
these people. I was thinking, dreaming, and talking in my sleep in my
polyglot language. At times I would talk to myself in English, just to
enjoy the sound of it. I had with me no books, except a Bible, which
was in my valise, but the print was too fine to read, except with a
good light. Action was my only salvation. Had I been compelled to stay
in one place I should have feared for my reason.
After two or three cups, every one perspired freely, and off came one
garment after another, until the men were entirely naked, and the
women were naked to the waist. When we had imbibed ten or a dozen
cups, the kettle was replenished with hot water, and handed out to
those in the main part of the yourta. I gave each one a lump of sugar
to make him happy, and then, leaning back among the skins, lighted my
pipe, and had a long talk with my host, during the course of which I
elicited much curious information.
At bedtime, two of the smaller children were put in tiny cradles,
swung from the top of the yourta. The compartment in which I slept
held eight people that night. The lamp was left burning all night, for
the sake of its warmth. As far as I could discover, there was an utter
lack of ventilation.
When I crawled out of that noisome hole the next morning, I found that
the dogs were very uneasy; they scratched the snow continually with
their hind feet. This was a sure sign that one of the dreaded
storms--a porgo--was coming. As I had experienced one of them, I had
no wish to be caught out in another, so I determined to wait where I
was till it blew over. By ten o'clock it was raging, and for three
mortal days there was no stirring from that village. Just before the
storm came on I secured some photographs of the reindeer. They were
very tame indeed, and would come up to me and smell of my garments,
and would even lick them, hoping to get some salt. I had to carry a
short stick to keep them from pressing too close upon me. I walked in
among the herd, which numbered about ten thousand, and watched them
eat. They would paw away the snow until they reached the moss, which
lay about ten inches below the surface, and then, kneeling down, would
dig it out with their teeth. The moss is about ten inches thick, and
is a loose, spongy mass of vegetation. It will not bear the weight of
a man, the foot sinking through it. It forms a most excellent food for
deer, but horses will not eat it. The Tunguse deer, which is larger
than the Korak, eats only moss, but the Korak deer will eat either
moss or grass.
These nomads have regular roads to and from the coast, and generation
after generation they follow the same old beaten tracks. In December,
they are farthest from the sea. Once in two, three, or four weeks,
according to the supply of moss and the size of the herd, they break
camp and move off on the trail. Late in December they turn, and
gradually work their way back, so that by the time that June and the
mosquitos have arrived they are near the sea. The deer eagerly lick
the salt from the rocks, and even drink the sea water. They stay on
the coast until late in August, when the frosts kill off the
mosquitos, and then they move off inland for another winter. In
summer, the deer grow very poor and weak, for they find little moss
near the coast. All along the shores of Bering Sea thousands of deer
can be counted every summer. A few years ago, when the United States
Government wished to secure some reindeer herds for Alaska, they sent
all the way to Lapland, and imported the deer at enormous expense,
took them across the American continent by rail, and shipped them by
steamer to Alaska. By the time they arrived, those that had not died
must have cost an enormous sum. If the government had sent a steamer a
single day's run across Bering Sea, it could have purchased fifty
thousand reindeer right on the coast at a cost of one rouble, or fifty
cents, apiece. Coin cannot be used in purchasing these animals, for
the natives do not understand nor use our coinage, but they can be
obtained by barter at the rate of one rouble's worth of tobacco a
head. Some rich natives might accept a few silver coins to hammer up
into buttons for their children's clothes, but not as a medium of
exchange.
The rutting season is in July, and fights between the male deer are
not uncommon. But most of the male deer are gelded, only enough being
left for breeding purposes. The natives watch their herds carefully,
both night and day, but without the use of dogs. The principal enemy
of the deer is the great gray Siberian wolf, which stands as high
as a Saint Bernard dog. One of these wily fellows will dash into a
herd, "cut out" three or four deer, and run them off into the
wilderness. When a deer grows tired the wolf runs alongside, and,
seizing it by the nose, brings it to the ground and despatches it.
[Illustration: Reindeer--Summer.]
The Koraks eat the hoofs after burning them on the fire and thus
setting free the gelatin. The weapons used by the Koraks, and the
Tunguses as well, are the modern rifles, or in default of these the
regular old-fashioned muzzle-loader. They do a little trapping, but
only for sport. The little boys take out the knuckle-bones from
wolves' feet and set them up like ninepins, and pitch stones at them.
Even the grown men sometimes indulge in this sport. It is not their
custom to use the reindeer under the saddle. They do not even carry a
pack, as among the Tunguses. Even in summer the Korak prefers to carry
his goods on a sledge, as many as eight deer sometimes being required
to draw the load.
There is one physical feature which helps to determine the
geographical division between the "dog" people and the "deer" people;
and this is the depth of the snowfall. For instance, on the peninsula
of Kamchatka there are many places where the snow is so deep that the
deer could not dig down to the moss in winter. All through the
northwestern portion of the peninsula, however, where the land is
occupied mostly by Koraks, the snow is not so deep, and the keeping of
deer is possible.
CHAPTER XIII
HABITS AND CUSTOMS OF THE KORAKS
The hour-glass houses--Their curious construction--The
natives prove to be both hospitable and filthy--Dialects of
Dog Koraks and Deer Koraks--Some unpleasant habits--How they
reckon time--Making liquor out of mushrooms--Curious
marriage customs--Clothes of the natives--Queer notions of a
deity--Jealousy of the wandering Koraks--Thieving a virtue
and childbirth a social function.
When the storm was over, we harnessed the dogs and continued our
journey. Seven days of ideal sledging brought us to Kaminaw, a Korak
village at the extreme northern point of the northeastern arm of the
Okhotsk Sea, where I was to discharge my Russian dog-teams, and secure
others from the natives. My first view of the village was from the
summit of a hill half a mile away. I saw what resembled fifty huge
hour-glasses set on the plain, which, on a nearer approach, turned out
to be ten or twelve feet high. As we drew near, the village came
swarming out with a pack of mongrel curs at their heels; and over the
edge of each hour-glass house appeared the heads of the women and
children, all eager to get a glimpse of such a novel sight as a
foreign face. Over each house was suspended a frozen dog. These were
impaled under the chin on the sharp end of a pole, and lifted high in
the air. I learned later that this was a form of sacrifice to the Fish
God, and was intended to insure a good run of fish the next season.
As I tumbled out of my sledge, I was surrounded by the filthiest lot
of natives I had yet seen. Their furs were old and mangy, and the hair
was worn off in spots. The people were kind and pleasant, and seemed
bent on shaking hands with me. I was pressed on all sides with
invitations to enter one and another of the curious houses. As I stood
there, debating what I should do, the chief of the village elbowed his
way through the crowd, took me by the hand, and led me to the largest
of the huts. In order to enter we had to go up a ladder to the height
of ten feet or more. This ladder was a log of driftwood, split down
the center, and provided with little holes in which to put the toes in
ascending. These natives have very small feet, and I found the holes
in the ladder too small to insert my toes, but I managed to scramble
to the top. I was now standing on the edge of an inverted octagonal
cone, made of logs lashed together, the inside or crater of the
affair, which was eighteen feet across, sloping down at an angle of
about fifteen degrees to the center. At that point there was a hole
leading down to the interior of the house. The hole also sufficed for
a chimney, and to enter the house one had to go down a ladder through
the smoke. Santa Claus is said to come from the north, and it is
evidently among this people that he originated, for here everybody
enters his house by way of the chimney.
[Illustration: Upper View of Underground Hut--Home of the Dog Korak.]
This flaring line of logs protects the opening of the house from being
covered up with drifting snow. This is the main reason for building in
this fashion. Moreover, the high scaffolding thus provided is an
excellent storehouse, upon which all sorts of things can be placed
without fear of molestation from wild animals. I saw here a
miscellaneous collection of implements, dog-harness, oars,
fishing-tackle, an
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