Overland through Asia; Pictures of Siberian, Chinese, and Tartar Part 6

We prolonged our tea-drinking to ten o'clock and then started.

Descending the ship's side was no easy matter. It was at least three feet from the bottom of the gang-way ladder to the water, and the boat was dancing on the chopping sea like a pea on a hot shovel. Captain Lund descended first, followed by Anossoff. Then I made my effort, and behind me was a grim Cossack. Just as I reached the lowest step a wave swung the boat from the ship and left me hanging over the water. The Cossack, unmindful of things below, was backing steadily toward my head. I could not think of the Russian phrase for the occasion and was in some dilemma how to act. I shouted 'Look out' with such emphasis that the man understood me and halted with his heavy boots about two inches above my face. Clinging to the side ropes and watching my opportunity, I jumped at the right moment and happily hit the boat.

The Cossack jumped into the lap of a sailor and received a variety of epithets for his carelessness. There are fourteen ways in the Russian language of calling a man a ---- fool, and I think all of them were used.

[Ill.u.s.tration: ASCENDING THE BAY.]

Wind and tide opposed each other and tossed us rather uncomfortably.

The waves breaking over the bow saturated the Cossack and sprinkled some of the sailors. At the stern we managed to protect ourselves, though we caught occasionally a few drops of spray. Wrapped in my overcoat and holding a bear-skin on my knees, I studied the summer night in that high northern lat.i.tude. At midnight it seemed like day break, and I half imagined we had wrongly calculated the hours and were later than we supposed. Between sunset and sunrise the twilight crept along the horizon from Occident to Orient. Further north the inhabitants of the Arctic circle were enjoying the light of their long summer day. What a contrast to the bleak night of cold and darkness that stretches with faint glimmerings of dawn through nearly half the year. The sh.o.r.es of the bay were high perpendicular banks, sharply cut like the bluffs at Vicksburg. There are several head-lands, but none project far enough to form harbors behind them. The bottom furnishes good anchoring ground, but the bay is quite open to southerly winds.

Captain Lund dropped his chin to his breast and slept soundly.

Anossoff raised his coat collar and drew in his head like a tortoise returning into his sh.e.l.l, but with all his efforts he did not sleep. I was wakeful and found that time dragged slowly. The light-house had no light and needed none, as the darkness was far from profound. In approaching the mouth of the river we discovered a cl.u.s.ter of buildings, and close at hand two beacons, like crosses, marking the direction of the channel.

There was a little surf breaking along the beach as our keel touched the ground. Our blankets came dripping from the bottom of the boat, and my satchel had taken water enough to spoil my paper collars and a dozen cigars. My greatest calamity on that night was the sudden and persistent stoppage of my watch. An occurrence of little moment in New York or London was decidedly unpleasant when no trusty watchmaker lived within four thousand miles.

Major Abasa and the Ispravnik of Ghijiga escorted us from the landing to their quarters, where we soon warmed ourselves with hot tea, and I took opportunity and a couple of bearskins and went to sleep. Late in the day we had a dinner of soup, pork and peas, reindeer meat, and berry pudding. The deer's flesh was sweet and tender, with a flavor like that of the American elk.

In this part of Siberia there are many wide plains (_tundras_) covered with moss and dest.i.tute of trees. The blueberry grows there, but is less abundant than the "maroska," a berry that I never saw in America.

It is yellow when ripe, has an acid flavor, and resembles the raspberry in shape and size. We ate the maroska in as many forms as it could be prepared, and they told us that it grew in Scotland, Scandinavia, and Northern Russia.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TAKING THE CENSUS.]

The ordinary residents at the mouth of Ghijiga river were the pilot and his family, with three or four Cossacks to row boats on the bay.

The natives of the vicinity came there occasionally, but none were permanent citizens. The arrival of the Variag and Clara Bell gave unusual activity to the settlement, and the Ispravnik might have returned a large population had he imitated the practice of those western towns that take their census during the stay of a railway train or a steamboat. There was once, according to a rural historian, an aspiring politician in Tennessee who wanted to go to Congress.

There were not inhabitants enough in his district to send him, and so he placed a couple of his friends at the railway station to take the names of pa.s.sengers as they visited the refreshment saloon and entered or left the depot. In a short time the requisite const.i.tuency was secured and sworn to, so that the aspirant for official honor accomplished the wish of his heart.

[Ill.u.s.tration: LIGHT-HOUSE AT GHIJIGA.]

The light-house on the promontory is a hexagonal edifice ten feet in diameter and height; it is of logs and has a flat top covered with dirt, whereon to kindle a fire. The interior is entered by a low door, and I found it floored with two sticks of wood and a mud puddle. One could reach the top by climbing a sloping pole notched like an American fence-post. The pilot resides at the foot of the bluff, and is expected to visit this beacon daily. A cannon, old enough to have served at Pultawa, stands near the light-house, in a condition of utter helplessness.

The houses were furnished quite primitively. Beds were of bearskins and blankets, and the floor was the only bedstead. There were rustic tables of hewn boards, and benches without backs. In a storehouse there was a Fairbanks' scale, somewhat worn and rusty, and I found a tuneless melodeon from Boston and a coffee mill from New York.

The town of Ghijiga is on the bank of the river, twelve miles from the light-house, and the route thither was overland or by water, at one's choice. Overland there was a footpath crossing a hill and a wet tundra. The journey by water was upon the Ghijiga river; five versts of rowing and thirteen of towing by men or dogs. As it was impossible to hire a horse, I repudiated the overland route altogether, and tried a brief journey on the river, but could not reach the town and return in time for certain engagements. Ghijiga has a population of less than three hundred, and closely resembles Petropavlovsk. Two or three foreign merchants go there annually with goods to exchange for furs which the Russian traders gather. The inhabitants are Russians or half breeds, the former predominating. The half breeds are said to possess all the vices of both races with the virtues of neither.

Mr. Bilzukavitch, the Ispravnik of Ghijiga, was a native of Poland, and governed seventy-two thousand square miles of territory, with a population of sixteen hundred taxed males. His military force comprised thirty Cossacks with five muskets, of which three were unserviceable. The native tribes included in the district of Ghijiga are the Koriaks and Chukchees; the Koriaks readily pay tribute and acknowledge the Russian authority, but the Chukchees are not yet fairly subdued. They were long in open war with the Russians, and though peace is now established, many of them are not tributary. Those who visit the Russian towns are compelled to pay tribute and become Imperial subjects before selling or purchasing goods. The Ispravnik is an artist of unusual merit, as evinced by an alb.u.m of his sketches ill.u.s.trating life in Northern Siberia. Some of them appeared like steel engravings, and testified to the skill and patience of the man who made them.

On my second day at Ghijiga I tried a river journey with a dog team.

The bottom of the boat was on the 'dug-out' principle, and the sides were two planks meeting in sharp and high points at the ends. I had a seat on some bearskins on the plank flooring, and found it reasonably comfortable. One man steered the boat, another in the bow managed the towline, and a third, who walked on land, drove the dogs. We had seven canines--three pairs and a leader--pulling upon a deerskin towline fastened to a thole-pin. It was the duty of the man in the bow to regulate the towline according to circ.u.mstances. The dogs were unaccustomed to their driver, and balky in consequence. Two of them refused to pull when we started, and remained obstinate until persuaded with sticks. The driver used neither reins nor whip, but liberally employed the drift wood along the banks. Clubs were trumps in that day's driving. The team was turned to the left by a guttural sound that no paper and ink can describe, and to the right by a rapid repet.i.tion of the word 'ca.'

[Ill.u.s.tration: TOWED BY DOGS]

Occasionally the path changed from one bank to the opposite. At such times we seated the dogs in the bow of the boat and ferried them over the river. In the boat they were generally quiet, though inclined to bite each other's legs at convenient opportunities. One muddy dog shook himself over me; I forgave him, but his driver did not, the innocent brute receiving several blows for making his toilet in presence of pa.s.sengers.

The Koriaks have a habit of sacrificing dogs to obtain a fortunate fishery. The animals are hung on limbs of trees, and the sacrifice always includes the best. Major Abasa urged them to give only their worthless dogs to the evil spirit, a.s.suring them the fishery would result just as well, and they promised to try the experiment. Dogs were scarce and expensive in consequence of a recent canine epidemic.

Only a day before our arrival three dogs developed hydrophobia and were killed.

The salmon fishery was very poor in 1866, and the inhabitants of the Ghijiga district were relying upon catching seals in the autumn. At Kolymsk, on the Kolyma river, the authorities require every man to catch one-tenth more than enough for his own use. This surplus is placed in a public storehouse and issued in case of famine. It is the rule to keep a three years supply always at hand. Several seasons of scarcity led to the adoption of the plan.

We were frequently visited by the natives from a Koriak village near the light-house. Their dress was of deer skin, and comprised a kotlanka, or frock, pantaloons, and boots, or leggings. Winter garments are of deer skin with its hair remaining, but summer clothing is of dressed skins alone. These natives appear below the ordinary stature, and their legs seemed to me very small. Ethnologists are divided concerning the origin of the Koriaks, some a.s.signing them to the Mongol race and others to the Esquimaux. The Koriaks express no opinion on the disputed point, and have none.

Both s.e.xes dress alike, and wear ornaments of beads in their ears.

They have a curious custom of shaving the back part of the head, _a la moine_. Fashion is as arbitrary among the Koriaks as in Paris or New York, and dictates the cut of garments and the style of hair dressing with unyielding severity.

Like savages everywhere, these natives manifest a fondness for civilized attire. A party visited the Clara Bell and obtained some American clothing. One man sported a cast-off suit, in which he appeared as uneasy as an organ grinder's monkey in a new coat. Another wore a sailor's jacket from the Variag, and sported the number '19'

with manifest pride. A third had a fatigue cap, bearing the letters 'U.S.' in heavy bra.s.s, the rest of his costume being thoroughly aboriginal. One old fellow had converted an empty meat can into a hat without removing the printed label "stewed beef." I gave him a pair of dilapidated gloves, which he donned at once.

The Koriaks are of two kinds, wandering and settled. The wanderers have great numbers of reindeer, and lead a migratory life in finding pasturage for their herds. The settled Koriaks are those who have lost their deer and been forced to locate where they can subsist by fishing. The former are kind and hospitable; the latter generally the reverse. Poverty has made them selfish, as it has made many a white man. All are honest to a degree unusual among savages. When Major Abasa traveled among them in the winter of 1865, they sometimes refused compensation for their services, and were scrupulously careful to guard the property of their guests. Once the Major purposely left some trivial articles. The next day a native brought them forward, and was greatly astonished when pay was offered for his trouble.

"This is your property," was the response; "we could not keep it in our tents, and it was our duty to bring it to you."

The wandering Koriaks estimate property in deer as our Indians count in horses. It is only among the thousands that wealth is eminently respectable. Some Koriaks own ten or twelve thousand deer, and one fortunate native is the possessor of forty thousand in his own name, (O-gik-a-mu-tik.) Though the wealthiest of his tribe, he does not drive fast horses, and never aspired to a seat in Congress. How much he has missed of real life!

Reindeer form the circulating medium, and all values are expressed in this four-footed currency. The animal supplies nearly every want. They eat his meat and pick his bones, and not only devour the meat, but the stomach, entrails, and their contents. When they stew the ma.s.s of meat and half digested moss, the stench is disgusting. Captain Kennan told me that when he arrived among the Koriaks the peculiar odor made him ill, and he slept out of doors with the thermometer at -35 rather than enter a tent where cooking was in progress.

[Ill.u.s.tration: KORIAK YOURT.]

The Koriaks build their summer dwellings of light poles covered with skin, or bark. Their winter habitations are of logs covered with earth and partly sunk into the ground, the crevices being filled with moss.

The summer dwellings are called _balagans_, and the winter ones _yourts_, but the latter name is generally applied to both. A winter yourt has a hole in the top, which serves for both chimney and door.

The ladder for the descent is a hewn stick, with holes for one's feet, and leans directly over the fire. Whatever the outside temperature, the yourt is suffocatingly hot within, and no fresh air can enter except through the top. When a large fire is burning and a thick volume of smoke pours out, the descent is very disagreeable. Russians and other white men, even after long practice, never attempt it without a shudder.

The yourt is generally circular or oblong, and its size is proportioned to the family of the owner. The fire is in the center, and the sleeping apartments are ranged around the walls. These apartments, called 'polags,' are about six feet square and four or five high, part.i.tioned with light poles and skin curtains. Owing to the high temperature the natives sleep entirely naked. Sometimes in the coldest nights their clothing is hung out of doors to rid it of certain parasites not unknown in civilization. Benumbed with, frost, the insects lose their hold and fall into the snow, to the great comfort of those who nursed and fed them. The body of a Koriak, considered as a microcosm, is remarkably well inhabited.

Captain Kennan gave me a graphic description of the Koriak marriage ceremonial. The lover must labor for the loved one's father, not less than one nor more than five years. No courtship is allowed during this period, and the young man must run the risk of his love being returned. The term of service is fixed by agreement between the stern parent and the youth.

At an appointed day the family and friends are a.s.sembled in a yourt, the old women being bridesmaids. The bride is placed in one polag and the bridegroom in the next. At a given signal a race commences, the bride leading. Each must enter every polag, and the man must catch his prize in a specified way before she makes the circuit of the yourt.

The bridesmaids, armed with long switches, offer every a.s.sistance to the woman and equal hindrance to the man. For her they lift the curtains of the polags, but hold them down against her pursuer and pound him with their switches. Unless she stops voluntarily it is utterly impossible to overtake her within the circuit. If she is not overtaken the engagement is 'off,' and the man must retire or serve again for the privilege of another love chase. Generally the pursuit is successful; the lover doubtless knows the temper of the lovee before becoming her father's apprentice. But coquettes are not unknown in Koriakdom, and the pursuing youths are sometimes left in the lurch--or the polags.

Should the lover overtake the maiden, before making the circuit, both remain seven days and nights in a polag. Their food is given them under the curtain during that period, and they cannot emerge for any purpose whatever. The bridesmaids then perform a brief but touching ceremonial, and the twain are p.r.o.nounced one flesh.

Northeast of Ghijiga is the country of the Chukchees, a people formerly hostile to the Koriaks. The feuds are not entirely settled, but the ill feeling has diminished and both parties maintain a dignified reserve. The Chukchees are hunters and traders, and have large herds of reindeer but very few dogs. They are the most warlike of these northern races, and long held the Russians at bay. They go far from sh.o.r.e with their _baydaras_, or seal skin boats, visiting islands along the coast, and frequently crossing to North America.

Their voyages are of a mercantile character, the Chukchee buying at the Russian towns and selling his goods among the Esquimaux.

At Ghijiga I made a short voyage in a baydara. The frame appeared very fragile, and the seal skin covering displayed several leaks. I was unwilling to risk myself twenty feet from land, but after putting me ash.o.r.e the Koriak boatman pulled fearlessly into the bay.

The Chukchee trader has a crew of his own race to paddle his light canoe. Occasionally the baydaras are caught in storms and must be lightened. I have the authority of Major Abasa that in such case the merchant keeps his cargo and throws overboard his crew. Goods and furs are costly, but men are cheap and easily replaced. The crew is entirely reconciled to the state of affairs, and drowns itself with that resignation known only to pagans.

"But," I asked, "do not the men object to this kind of jettison?"

"I believe not," was the major's reply; "they are only discharging their duty to their employer. They go over the side just as they would step from an over-laden sledge."

[Ill.u.s.tration: DISCHARGING A DECK LOAD.]

I next inquired if the trader did not first throw out the men to whom he was most indebted, but could not obtain information on that point.

It is probable that with an eye to business he disposes promptly of his creditors and keeps debtors to the last. What a magnificent system of squaring accounts!

The Chukchees have mingled much with whalemen along Anadyr Bay and the Arctic Ocean, and readily adopt the white man's vices. They drink whisky without fear, and will get very drunk if permitted. When Captain Macrae's telegraph party landed at the mouth of the Anadyr the natives supposed the provision barrels were full of whisky, and became very importunate for something to drink. The captain made a mixture of red pepper and vinegar, which he palmed off as the desired article.

All were pleased with it, and the hotter it was the better.

One native complained that its great heat burned the skin from his throat before he could swallow enough to secure intoxication. The fame of this whisky was wide-spread. Captain Kennan said he heard at Anadyrsk and elsewhere of its wonderful strength, and was greatly amused when he arrived at Macrae's and heard the whole story.