Overland through Asia; Pictures of Siberian, Chinese, and Tartar Part 21

There is a little island just below the point of land extending between the two rivers. As we approached it the steamer turned to the right and proceeded up the Shilka, leaving the Amoor behind us. I may never see this great river again, but I shall never forget its magnificent valley and its waters washing the boundaries of two empires and bringing the civilization of the East and West in contact.

I shall never forget its many islands, among which we wound our tortuous way; its green meadows, its steep cliffs, and its blue mountains, that formed an ever-changing and ever beautiful picture. I shall never forget its forests where the yellow hues of autumn contrasted with the evergreen pine and its kindred, and which nature has lavishly spread to shield the earth from the pitiless storm and give man wherewith to erect his habitation and light his hearthstone with generous fire. Mountain, hill, forest, island, and river will rise to me hereafter in imagination as they rose then in reality. A voyage along the entire course of the Amoor is one that the longest lifetime cannot efface from the memory.

For a hundred and sixty years the little post of Oust-Strelka was the most easterly possession of Russia in the Amoor valley. In 1847 Lieutenant General Mouravieff, having been appointed Governor General of Eastern Siberia, determined to explore the river. In the following spring he sent an officer with four Cossacks to descend the Amoor as far as was prudent. The officer took a liberal supply of presents for the people along the banks, and was instructed to avoid all collisions with the natives and not to enter their towns. From the day of his departure to the present nothing has ever been heard of him or his men. Diligent inquiries have been made among the natives and the Chinese authorities, but no information gained. It is supposed the party were drowned by accident, or killed by hostile residents along the river.

In 1850 and the three following years the mouth of the Amoor was examined and settlements founded, as already described. The year 1854 is memorable for the first descent of the Amoor by a military expedition. The outbreak of the Crimean war rendered it necessary to supply the Russian fleet in the Pacific. The colonies on the Pacific needed provisions, and the Amoor offered the only feasible route to send them. General Mouravieff made his preparations, and obtained the consent of his government to the important step. He asked the permission of the Chinese, but those worthies were as dilatory as usual, and Mouravieff could not wait. He left Shilikinsk on the 27th of May, escorted by a thousand soldiers with several guns, and carrying an ample supply of provisions for the Pacific fleet.

The Chinese made no actual opposition, but satisfied themselves with counting the boats that pa.s.sed. Mouravieff supplied the fleet at the mouth of the Amoor, and then returned by way of Ayan to Irkutsk. The troops were left to garrison the fortified points on or near the sea.

In 1855 three more expeditions left Shilikinsk with soldiers and colonists. General Mouravieff accompanied the first of these expeditions and went directly to Nicolayevsk. The allied fleet attempted to enter the Amoor but could not succeed. The general sent his compliments to the English Admiral and told him to come on if he could and he should be warmly received. In 1856 a few Cossack posts were established along the river, and in the next year nearly three thousand Cossacks were sent there. The Chinese made a formal protest against these movements, and there were fears of a hostile collision.

The reverses that China suffered from the English and French prevented war with Russia, and in 1858 Mouravieff concluded a treaty at Igoon by which the Russian claim to the country north of the Amoor and east of the Ousuree was acknowledged. The Russians were thus firmly established, and the development of the country has progressed peacefully since that period.

As the Argoon from its mouth to Lake Kerolun forms the boundary between the empires I lost sight of China when we entered the Shilka.

As I shivered on the steamer's bridge, my breath congealing on my beard, and the hills beyond the Amoor and Argoon white with the early snow of winter, I could not see why the Celestials call their land the 'Central Flowery Kingdom.'

The Shilka has a current flowing four or five miles an hour. The average speed of the Korsackoff in ascending was about four miles. The river wound among mountains that descended to the water without intervening plateaus, and only on rare occasions were meadows visible.

The forests were pine and larch, with many birches. The lower part of the Shilka has very little agricultural land, and the only settlements are the stations kept by a few Cossacks, who cut wood for the steamers and supply horses to the post and travelers in winter.

The first night after leaving the Amoor there was a picturesque scene at our wooding station. The mountains were revealed by the setting moon, and their outline against the sky was sharply defined. We had a large fire of pine boughs burning on the sh.o.r.e, and its bright flames lighted both sides of the river. The boatmen in their sheepskin coats and hats walked slowly to and fro, and gave animation to the picture.

While I wrote my journal the horses above me danced as though frolicking over a hornet's nest, and reduced sentimental thoughts to a minimum. To render the subject more interesting two officers and the priest grew noisy over a triple game of cards and a bottle of vodki. I wrote in my overcoat, as the thermometer was at 30 with no fire in the cabin.

We frequently met rafts with men and horses descending to supply the post stations, or bound on hunting excursions. I was told that the hunters float down the river on rafts and then make long circuits by land to their points of departure. The Siberian squirrel is very abundant in the mountains north of the Shilka, and his fur is an important article of commerce.

We stopped at Gorbitza, near the mouth of the Gorbitza river, that formerly separated Russia and China and was the boundary up to 1854.

Above this point the villages had an appearance of respectable age not perceptible in the settlements along the Amoor. Ten or twelve miles from our wooding place we met ice coming out of the Chorney river, but it gave us no inconvenience. The valley became wider and the hills less abrupt, while the villages had an air of irregularity more pleasing than the military precision on the Amoor. I saw many dwellings on which decay's effacing fingers were busy. The telegraph posts were fixed above Gorbitza, but the wires had not been strung.

There were many haystacks at the villages, and I could see droves of cattle and sheep on the cleared hills. At one landing I found a man preparing his house for winter by calking the seams with moss. Under the eaves of another house there were many birds that resembled American swallows. I could not say whether they were migratory or not, but if the former they were making their northern stay a late one.

Their twitterings reminded me of the time when I used to go at nightfall, 'when the swallows homeward fly,' and listen to the music without melody as the birds exchanged their greetings, told their loves, and gossipped of their adventures.

[Ill.u.s.tration: PREPARING FOR WINTER.]

Just at sunset we reached Shilikinsk, a town stretching nearly two miles along the river, on a plateau thirty feet high. We stopped in the morning where there was abundance of wood, but only took enough to carry us to Shilikinsk. There was a lady in the case. Our first officer had a feminine acquaintance at the town, and accordingly wished to stop for wood, and, if possible, to pa.s.s the night there.

His plan failed, as no wood could be discovered at Shilikinsk, though our loving mate scanned every part of the bank. We had enough fuel to take us a few miles farther, where we found wood and remained for the night. The disappointed swain pocketed his chagrin and solaced himself by playing the agreeable to a lady pa.s.senger.

I saw in the edge of the town a large building surrounded with a palisaded wall. "What is that?" I asked, pointing to the structure new to my eyes.

"It is a station for exiles," was my friend's reply, "when they pa.s.s through the town. They generally remain here over night, and sometimes a few days, and this is their lodging. You will see many such on your way through Siberia."

"Is it also the prison for those who are kept here permanently?" "No; the prison is another affair. The former prison at Shilikinsk has been converted into a gla.s.s manufactory. Just behind it is a large tannery, heretofore celebrated throughout Eastern Siberia for its excellent leather."

As we proceeded the country became more open and less mountainous, and I saw wide fields on either side. A road was visible along the northern bank of the river, sometimes cut in the hillside where the slope was steep. On the southern bank there was no road beyond that for local use. The telegraph followed the northern side, but frequently left the road to take short cuts across the hills.

We struck a rock ten miles from our journey's end, and for several minutes I thought we should go gracefully to the bottom. We whirled twice around on the rock before we left it, and our captain feared we had sprung a leak. When once more afloat Borasdine and I packed our baggage and prepared for the sh.o.r.e. We ate the last of our preserves and gave sundry odds and ends to the Cossacks. As a last act we opened the remaining bottles of a case of champagne, and joined officers and fellow pa.s.sengers in drinking everybody's health.

Late in the afternoon of the 20th October we were in sight of Stratensk. The summer barracks were first visible, and a moment later I could see the church dome. In nearly all Russian towns the churches are the first objects visible on arriving and the last on departing.

Tho house of worship is no less prominent in the picture of a Russian village than the ceremonies of religion in the daily life of the people.

There was a large crowd on the bank to welcome us. Officers, soldiers, merchants, Cossacks, peasants, women, children, and dogs were in goodly numbers. Our own officers were in full uniform to make their calls on sh.o.r.e. The change of costume that came over several pa.s.sengers was interesting in the extreme.

At last the steamer ceased her asthmatic wheeze and dropped her anchor at the landing. We gave our baggage to a Cossack to take to the hotel.

Soon as the rush over the plank was ended I walked ash.o.r.e from the Korsackoff for the last time.

So ended, for the present, my water journeying. I had zig-zagged from New York a distance, by my line of travel, not less than fifteen thousand miles. The only actual land route on my way had been forty-seven miles between Aspinwall and Panama. I had traveled on two ocean pa.s.senger-steamers, one private steamer of miniature size, a Russian corvette, a gunboat of the Siberian fleet, and two river boats of the Amoor flotilla. Not a serious accident had occurred to mar the pleasure of the journey. There had been discomforts, privations, and little annoyances of sufficient frequency, but they only added interest to the way.

The proverb well says there is no rose without a thorn, and it might add that the rose would be less appreciable were there no thorn. Half our pleasures have their zest in the toil through which they are gained. In travel, the little hardships and vexations bring the novelties and comforts into stronger relief, and make the voyager's happiness more real. It is an excellent trait of human nature that the traveler can remember with increased vividness the pleasing features of his journey while he forgets their opposites. Privations and discomforts appeal directly to the body; their effect once pa.s.sed the physical system courts oblivion. Pleasures reach our higher being, which experiences, enjoys, and remembers.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TAIL PIECE]

CHAPTER XXII.

Stratensk is neither large nor handsome. The most I saw of it was near the hotel whither we went from the boat. The rooms we were shown into faced the river, and had high walls decorated with a few pictures. My apartment had a brick stove in one corner, a table, three or four chairs, and a wide sofa or cushioned bench without a back. This last article served as bed by night and seat by day. No bed clothing is furnished in a Siberian hotel, each traveler being expected to carry his own supply.

The government has a foundry and repair shop two miles above the town, where several steamers pa.s.s the winter and have their machinery repaired. Immediately on arrival we sent to request Mr. Lovett, the gentleman in charge of the works, to call upon us. He responded promptly, and came while we were at supper. Being English and with a slight tendency to _embonpoint_, he readily accepted several bottles of 'Ba.s.s & Co.' that remained from our small stores. He was accompanied by Captain Ivashinsoff, who spoke English easily and well.

His knowledge of it was obtained rather romantically as the story was told me.

Two years earlier this officer happened in Hong Kong and during his stay an American vessel arrived. Her captain had been seriously ill for some weeks and totally incapable of duty. The first mate died on the voyage, and the second was not equal to the difficulties of navigation. The captain was accompanied by his daughter, who had been several years at sea and learned the mysteries of Bowditch more as a pastime than for anything else. In the dilemma she a.s.sumed control of the ship, making the daily observation and employing the mate as executive officer. When they reached Hong Kong the captain was just recovering. The young woman came on sh.o.r.e, saw and conquered the Russian. Neither spoke the other's language, and their conversation was conducted in French. After their marriage they began to study, and had made such progress that I found the captain speaking good English, and learned that the lady was equally fluent in Russian. She was living at Stratensk at the time of my visit, and I greatly regretted that our short stay prevented my seeing her. She was a native of Chelsea, Ma.s.sachusetts, and was said to enjoy her home on the Amoor.

Three or four steamers were in winter quarters, and the Korsackoff was to join them immediately. Both at Stratensk and Nicolayevsk it is the custom to remove the machinery from steamers during winter. It is carefully housed to prevent its rusting, and I presume to lessen the loss in case of fire or damage from breaking ice.

We talked with our new friends till late in the evening, and then prepared to continue our journey. Lovett gave me his blessing and a feather pillow; the former to cover general accidents and the latter to prevent contusions from the jolting vehicle. Borasdine obtained a Cossack to accompany us on the road and ordered our baggage made ready. The Cossack piled it into a wagon and it was transported to the ferry landing and dumped upon the gravel. We followed and halted in front of the palisaded hotel of the exiles. The ferry boat was on the opposite sh.o.r.e, four or five hundred yards away. Borasdine called, but the boatmen did not rise.

"Dai sloopka!" (send a boat.)

After a moment's pause he repeated:

"Dai sloopka!"

He added the usually magic word "courier!" but it had no effect. He shouted repeatedly and grew hoa.r.s.e. Then I lifted up my voice like a pelican in the wilderness, but with no better effect. When we had almost reached the pitch of despair a man appeared from behind a wood pile and tried his vocal organs in our behalf. At his second call a reply was given, and very soon a light twinkled at the ferry house.

[Ill.u.s.tration: STRATENSK, EASTERN SIBERIA.]

The boat was a long time coming, and while we waited its arrival a drunken Bouriat made himself unpleasantly familiar. As often as I changed my position he would come to my side and endeavor to rest his dirty arm on my shoulder. I finally walked through a pile of brushwood and crooked sticks, which was too much for the native with his weak knees and muddy brain. After struggling with a persistency that would have been commendable had the object to be attained been commensurate to the effort, he became inextricably tangled, and I left him in the loving embrace of a decayed tree-top.

The boat came with four s.h.a.ggy ferrymen, who had some difficulty in reaching land. It was a kind of large skiff, high at both ends and having a platform, like that of a hay-scale, in the center. The platform projected a foot or more beyond the sides of the boat, and had no railing to prevent a frightened horse or drunken man going overboard. This is the general style of river ferry boats in Siberia.

The boatmen do not appear very skillful in handling them, but I learned that serious accidents were very rare.

We piled our baggage and left the sh.o.r.e, running upon two rocks and colliding with a sandbar before getting fairly away. I fell asleep during the crossing, satisfied that the crew did not need my a.s.sistance. We landed where the road is cut into the rocky bank, and were obliged to lift the baggage over a pile of stony debris. The boatmen said it was impossible to go to the regular landing, but I suspect they wished an extra gratuity for handling our impedimenta.

Before the work was finished they regretted their manoeuvre.

As we touched the sh.o.r.e one man went to the station to bring horses and a vehicle. Borasdine and I scrambled over the rocks to the road fifteen feet above the water, and by the time the crew brought up our baggage the conveyance arrived. It was what the Russians call a _telyaga_, drawn by three horses.

This carriage is of Quaker simplicity. There are four wheels on wooden axles, with rough but strong 'reaches.' A body, shaped something like an old-fashioned baby-cart, rests upon the reaches or on poles fixed over them. The hood protects against wind and rain from behind, and the best of the vehicles have boots b.u.t.toned in front and attached to the hoods. The driver sits on the bow directly behind the shaft-horse, and one part of his duty is to keep from falling off. The traveler spreads his baggage inside as evenly as possible to form a bed or cushion. Angular pieces should be discarded, as the corners are disagreeable when jolted against one's sides. Two shafts are fixed in the forward axle, and a horse between them forms a sort of _point d'appui_. Any number from one to six can be tied on outside of him.

The fault of our baggage was that we, or rather I, had too much.

Worst of all, I had a wooden trunk that I proposed throwing away at Nicolayevsk, but had been told I could carry to Irkutsk without trouble. It could not ride inside, or if it did we could not. We placed the small articles in the interior of the vehicle, and tied the trunk and Borasdine's _chemadan_ on the projecting poles behind. The _chemadan_ is in universal use among Siberian travelers, and admirably adapted to the road. It is made of soft leather, fastens with a lacing of deer-skin thongs, and can be lashed nearly water tight. It will hold a great deal,--I never saw one completely filled,--and accommodates itself to the shape of its aggregate contents. It can be of any size up to three or four feet long, and its dimensions are proportioned to each other about like those of an ordinary pocket-book. A great advantage is the absence of sharp corners and the facility of packing closely.