[Sidenote: 1812.]
We were happy on the 9th to inhale the fresh air, and leave our
smoky habitation at Timlatee to pursue our journey, which now lay
over a mountainous country, along the sea-coast, and almost wholly
bare of timber. The morning was clear and cold, but the wind blew
rather fresh from the sea, and the white clouds hurried rapidly over
the blue expanse. About ten o’clock the Toyune of Govenskoy came to
me and said, “We must not stop at twelve to-day, as usual, to take
our luncheon, as I perceive we are going to have one of those cold
poorgas, which on these plains are very violent; and we may be frozen
to death, should we not chance to meet with the Reindeer Karaikees.
For a long distance,” added he, “there is no house, or hut, or any
sort of shelter: therefore order your people to push on, and keep
close together; for if the Karaikees are here, they will be on the
middle of the moor, but yet a considerable distance from us.”
Knowing how well the natives of that country understand the weather,
although I could see nothing that indicated a storm, I gave orders as
he directed, and he led the way with his own dogs. These, he said,
were his hunting dogs, and could be relied on. We went on quite well,
and briskly, until a little before twelve o’clock, when, all of a
sudden, the wind began to blow with great violence, and, drifting the
snow in quantities, thickened the atmosphere so that we could not see
a yard before us. For the first part of our progress the sky above
our heads was clear; but this, after a while, became covered with
black clouds, and a kind of sharp sleet descended, which was borne
on the wind so violently that we could no longer keep our faces to
windward, and were obliged to stop. As we had lost our way from the
commencement, the Toyune came to me to hold a consultation as to what
was to be done. I told him he was an inhabitant of the country, and
must be the better judge, and I should leave it to him to decide. He
said, “As it is impossible to make a fire, if we remain here and the
poorga continues all night, we shall all be frozen to death. We had,
therefore, better keep moving; but don’t you give a dram to any one
till I tell you; for watky is not good at such a time. I have great
confidence in my dogs, and if there is a reindeer on the plain they
will find him.”
After this speech he pushed on his dogs to take what road they liked,
first giving orders to the party to watch each other strictly and
not to separate on any account. To our surprise the dogs, instead
of taking what we imagined to be the road, turned off from the sea
and brought the wind nearly on our backs. Although this alarmed
many, who thought they were going wrong, they found it much more
comfortable than to go against the sharp sleet which tore the skin
from their faces. We continued travelling in this manner for upwards
of two hours. The poorga raged with redoubled fury; the clouds of
sleet rolled like a dark smoke over the moor, and we were all so
benumbed with cold that our teeth chattered in our heads. The sleet,
driven with such violence, had got into our clothes, and penetrated
even under our parkas, and into our baggage, wherever there was the
smallest crevice.
At length the Toyune’s dogs began to snuff the air, bark loudly,
and set out at full speed. It was like a shock of electricity. The
rest of the dogs followed this example, and strained every nerve
to keep pace with them. Our hearts now beat high, for we were sure
the dogs smelt the reindeer, and this emotion had already infused a
warmth through our veins, as we anticipated the happiness of finding
shelter from a dreadful storm that threatened us with death. In about
ten minutes more we had the ineffable pleasure of finding ourselves
near a large Karaikee jourta, where we saw a fine fire blazing. The
Karaikees had all run out with their clubs and spears to defend
their reindeer from the dogs, which our drivers, benumbed as they
were, could hardly keep from running on the herd that surrounded the
jourta. The Karaikees, who were to leeward of us, had heard the dogs
for some time, and, anticipating our arrival, had already killed a
fine fat buck, and the women were skinning him when we arrived.
Our host was a fine hospitable old man, who possessed a herd of
nearly three hundred sleek reindeer, and he seemed overjoyed to have
us for guests. He made me sit down on some nice warm bear-skins
spread near the fire, which was in the centre of the jourta. Behind
me was a place apart, well hung and lined with deer-skins, for me to
sleep on.
My interpreter, who was of Karaikee origin, found out at last that
the host was a relation of his. This circumstance occasioned much
joy, and was the cause of the death of another fine buck to regale
his relation. The Toyune of Evashka being in possession of an order
from government to collect the tax and tribute from the Reindeer
Karaikees in that quarter, he made the interpreter explain his powers
to the other Toyune, and ask him if he was prepared to pay them. He
replied that he would pay the tribute with great cheerfulness, but
he could not pay the tax in money, because he had none, nor did he
know how to get it. “I wish,” said he to me, “as you are going to St.
Petersburg you would tell the Emperor that the Reindeer Karaikees,
though a wild people, are good loyal subjects, and are always ready
to pay the tribute in furs, although they cannot pay him money. Our
habits of life,” continued he, “are such that we never buy or sell
anything for money; how then can he expect us to find it? When I want
tobacco, knives, kettles, needles, or watky, I buy them with fox,
sable, and deer skins, and I know nothing farther of trade; besides,
I have heard that amongst you who trade for money the effect often
spoils the heart and creates bad blood between man and man. I am
glad, therefore, there is so little money amongst our Karaikees,
who are warm-tempered.” After having made this speech, which was
delivered in a serious tone, he ordered a bundle of fox and sable
skins to be brought, and, throwing them at the feet of the Toyune,
“There,” said he, “is our tribute. Let the interpreter write me a
paper and do you sign it to say you have received it.”
This request being complied with, and the afternoon being very fine
and serene, we deemed it best to resist the kind invitation of the
chief to pass the night with him, and proceeded on our journey.
After leaving Tolbachik, the roads were good, and we soon arrived at
Oushkee. Here the inhabitants were few, and those few miserable. I
therefore distributed some presents amongst them which I had brought
for that purpose. My distribution was nearly finished when I observed
a lad whose features I recognized, and I immediately asked him where
he belonged. He said, “I am from the Tigil coast, and have been sent
here to assist travellers, and I helped to row you down the river
last summer. As I have been always very busy I have been but once at
the chase; but I killed a sable, and I kept it on purpose to repay
your kindness for the knife and flints you gave me.” Seeing that this
poor fellow was misery personified, not a shirt on his back, and the
skin dress he had on all in tatters, I refused to accept his offer.
He burst into tears and was about to leave the room when I made him
return, and took his sable from him in return for what I had ordered
to be given him, at which he seemed quite happy.
“Look further on,” said Uncle Fritz. “Find that which I have marked ‘A
Gentle Hint.’ It tells how they cut short visits when the stores run
low.”