On leaving Mihalofski we took the merchant and two priests and dropped
them fifteen miles above, at a village where a church was being
dedicated. The people were in their holiday costume and evidently
awaited the priests. The church was pointed out, nestling in the
forest just back of the river bank. It seemed more than large enough
for the wants of the people, and was the second structure of the kind
in a settlement ten years old. I have been told, but I presume not
with literal truth, that a church is the first building erected in a
Russian colony.
At night we ran until the setting of the moon, and then anchored. It
is the custom to anchor or tie up at night unless there is a good moon
or very clear starlight. An hour after we anchored the stars became so
bright that we proceeded and ran until daylight, reaching Mariensk at
two in the morning. I had designed calling upon two gentlemen and a
lady at Mariensk, but it is not the fashion in Russia to make visits
between midnight and daybreak. Borasdine had the claim of old
acquaintance and waked a friend for a little talk.
This town is at the entrance of Keezee lake, and next to Nicolayevsk
is the oldest Russian settlement on the lower Amoor. It was founded by
the Russian American Company in the same year with Nicolayevsk, and
was a trading post until the military occupation of the river.
Difficulties of navigation have diminished its military importance,
the principal rendezvous of this region being transferred to Sofyesk.
On an island opposite Mariensk is the trace of a fortification built
by Stepanoff, a Russian adventurer who descended the Amoor in 1654.
Stepanoff passed the winter at this point, and fortified himself to be
secure against the natives. He seems to have engaged in a general
business of filibustering on joint account of himself and his
government. In the winter of his residence at this fortress he
collected nearly five thousand sable skins as a tribute to his
emperor—and himself.
Morning found us at Sofyesk taking a fresh supply of wood. This town
was founded a few years ago, and has a decided appearance of newness.
There is a wagon road along the shore of Keezee lake and across the
hills to De Castries Bay. Light draft steamboats can go within twelve
miles of De Castries. Surveys have been made with the design of
connecting Keezee Lake and the Gulf of Tartary by a canal. A railway
has also been proposed, but neither enterprise will be undertaken for
many years. I passed an hour with the post commander, who had just
received a pile of papers only two months from St. Petersburg, the
mail having arrived the day before.
The steamer Telegraph lay at the landing when we arrived; among her
passengers was a Manjour merchant, who possessed an intelligent face,
quite in contrast with the sleepy Gilyaks. He wore the Manjour dress,
consisting of wide trowsers and a long robe reaching to his heels; his
shoes and hat were Chinese, and his robe was held at the waist with a
silk cord. His hair was braided in the Chinese fashion, and he sported
a long mustache but no beard.
[Illustration: MANJOUR MERCHANT.]
A few versts above Sofyesk we met a Manjour merchant evidently on a
trading expedition. He had a boat about twenty-five feet long by eight
wide, with a single mast carrying a square sail. His boat was full of
boxes and bales and had a crew of four men. A small skiff was towed
astern and another alongside. These Manjour merchants are quite
enterprising, and engage in traffic for small profits and large risks
when better terms are not attainable. Before the Russian occupation
all the trade of the lower Amoor was in Manjour hands. Boats annually
descended from San-Sin and Igoon bringing supplies for native use.
Sometimes a merchant would spend five or six months making his round
journey.
The merchants visited the villages on the route and bargained their
goods for furs. There was an annual fair at the Gilyak village of Pul,
below Mariensk, and this was made the center of commerce. The fair
lasted ten days, and during that time Pul was a miniature Nijne
Novgorod. Manjour and Chinese merchants met Japanese from the island
of Sakhalin, Tunguse from the coast of the Ohotsk Sea, and others
from, the head waters of the Zeya and Amgoon. There were Gilyaks from
the lower Amoor and various tribes of natives from the coast of
Manjouria.
A dozen languages were spoken, and traffic was conducted in a patois
of all the dialects. Cloth, powder, lead, knives, and brandy were
exchanged for skins and furs. A gentleman who attended one of these
fairs told me that the scene was full of interest and abounded in
amusing incidents. Of late years the navigation of the Amoor has
discontinued the fair of Pul. The Manjour traders still descend the
river, but they are not as numerous as of yore.
With a good glass from the deck of the steamer I watched the native
process of catching salmon. The fishing stations are generally, though
not always, near the villages. The natives use gill nets and seines in
some localities, and scoop nets in others. Sometimes they build a
fence at right angles to the shore, and extend it twenty or thirty
yards into the stream. This fence is fish-proof, except in a few
places where holes are purposely left.
The natives lie in wait with skiffs and hand-nets and catch the
salmon, as they attempt to pass these holes. I watched a Gilyak taking
fish in this way, and think he dipped them up at the rate of two a
minute; when the fish are running well a skiff can be filled in a
short time. Sometimes pens of wicker work are fixed to enclose the
fish after they pass the holes in the fence. The salmon in this case
has a practical illustration of life in general: easy to get into
trouble but difficult to get out of it.
[Illustration: GILYAK MAN.]
For catching sturgeon they use a circular net five feet across at the
opening, and shaped like a shallow bag. One side of the mouth is
fitted with corks and the other with weights of lead or iron. Two
canoes in mid stream hold this net between them, at right angles to
the current. The sturgeon descending the river enters the trap, and
the net proceeds of the enterprise are divided between the fishermen.
It requires vision or a guide to find a fishing station, but the sense
of smell is quite sufficient to discover where salmon are dressed and
cured. The offal from the fish creates an unpleasant stench and no
effort is made to clear it away. The natives and their dogs do not
consider the scent disagreeable and have no occasion to consult the
tastes or smell of others. The first time I visited one of their
fish-curing places I thought of the western city that had, after a
freshet, ‘forty-five distinct and different odors beside several wards
to hear from.’
Above Mariensk the Amoor valley is often ten or twenty miles wide,
enclosing whole labyrinths of islands, some of great extent. These
islands are generally well out of water and not liable to overflow.
Very few have the temporary appearance of the islands of the lower
Mississippi. Here and there were small islands of slight elevation and
covered with cottonwoods, precisely like those growing between Memphis
and Cairo.
[Illustration: GILYAK WOMAN.]
The banks of this part of the Amoor do not wash like the alluvial
lands along the Mississippi and Missouri, but are more like the shores
of the Ohio. They are generally covered with grass or bushes down to
the edge of the water. There are no shifting sand-bars to perplex the
pilot, but the channel remains with little change from year to year. I
saw very little drift wood and heard no mention of snags. The general
features of the scenery were much like those below Mihalofski. The
numerous islands and the labyrinth of channels often permit boats to
pass each other without their captains knowing it. One day we saw a
faint line of smoke across an island three or four miles wide;
watching it closely I found it was in motion and evidently came from
a descending steamboat. On another occasion we missed in these
channels a boat our captain was desirous of hailing. Once while
General Mouravieff was ascending the river he was passed by a courier
who was bringing him important despatches.
[Illustration: NIGHT SCENE—GROUP OF PEASANTS.]
The pilot steers with a chart of the river before him, and relies
partly upon his experience and partly upon the delineated route.
Sometimes channels used at high water are not navigable when the river
is low, and some are favorable for descent but not for ascent. In
general the pilotage is far more facile than on the Mississippi, and
accidents are not frequent.
The peasants always came to the bank where we stopped, no matter what
the hour. At one place where we took wood at night there was a
picturesque group of twenty-five or thirty gathered around a fire; men
and women talking, laughing, smoking, and watching the crew at work.
The light, of the fire poured full upon a few figures and brought them
into strong relief, while others were half hidden in shadow. Of the
men some wore coats of sheepskin, others Cossack coats of grey cloth;
some had caps of faded cloth, and others Tartar caps of black
sheepskin. Red beards, white beards, black beards, and smooth faces
were played upon by the dancing flames. The women, were in hoopless
dresses, and held shawls over their heads in place of bonnets.
A hundred versts above Sofyesk the scenery changed. The mountains on
the south bank receded from the river and were more broken and
destitute of trees. Wide strips of lowland covered with forest
intervened between the mountains and the shore. On the north the
general character of the country remained. I observed a mountain,
wooded to the top and sloping regularly, that had a curious formation
at its summit. It was a perpendicular shaft resembling Bunker Hill
Monument, and rising from the highest point of the mountain; it
appeared of perfect symmetry, and seemed more like a work of art than
of nature. On the same mountain, half way down its side, was a mass of
rock with towers and buttresses that likened it to a cathedral. These
formations were specially curious, as there were no more of the kind
in the vicinity. Borasdine observed the rocks soon after I discovered
them, and at first thought they were ancient monuments.
There were many birds along the shore. Very often we dispersed flocks
of ducks and sent them flying over islands and forests to places of
safety. Snipe were numerous, and so were several kinds of wading and
swimming birds. Very often we saw high in air the wild geese of
Siberia flying to the southward in those triangular squadrons that
they form everywhere over the world. These birds winter in the south
of China, Siam, and India, while they pass the summer north of the
range of the Yablonoi mountains.
The birds of the Amoor belong generally to the species found in the
same latitudes of Europe and America, but there are some birds of
passage that are natives of Southern Asia, Japan, the Philippine
Islands, and even South Africa and Australia. Seven-tenths of the
birds of the Amoor are found in Europe, two-tenths in Siberia, and
one-tenth in regions further south. Some birds belong more properly to
America, such as the Canada woodcock and the water ouzel; and there
are several birds common to the east and west coasts of the Pacific.
The naturalists who came here at the Russian occupation found two
Australian birds on the Amoor, two from tropical and sub-tropical
Africa, and one from Southern Asia.
The number of stationary birds is not great, in consequence of the
excessive cold in winter. Mr. Maack enumerates thirty-nine species
that dwell here the entire year. They include eagles, hawks, jays,
magpies, crows, grouse, owls, woodpeckers, and some others. The birds
of passage generally arrive at the end of April or during May, and
leave in September or October.
It is a curious fact that they come later to Nicolayevsk than to the
town of Yakutsk, nine degrees further north. This is due to
differences of climate and the configuration of the country. The lower
Amoor is remarkable for its large quantities of snow, and at
Nicolayevsk it remains on the ground till the end of May. South of
the lower Amoor are the Shanalin mountains, which arrest the progress
of birds. On the upper Amoor and in Trans-Baikal very little snow
falls, and there are no mountains of great height.
The day after leaving Sofyesk I observed a native propelling a boat by
pulling both oars together. On my expressing surprise my companion
said:
“We have passed the country of the Gilyaks who pull their oars
alternately, and entered that of the Mangoons and Goldees. The manner
of rowing distinguishes the Gilyaks from all others.”
The Mangoons, Goldees, and Gilyaks differ in much the same way that
the tribes of American Indians are different. They are all of
Tungusian or Mongolian stock, and have many traits and words in
common. Their features have the same general characteristics and their
languages are as much alike as those of a Cheyenne and Comanche. Each
people has its peculiar customs, such as the style of dress, the mode
of constructing a house, or rowing a boat. All are pagans and indulge
in Shamanism, but each tribe has forms of its own. All are fishers and
hunters, their principal support being derived from the river.
The Goldee boat was so much like a Gilyak one that I could see no
difference. There was no opportunity to examine it closely, as we
passed at a distance of two or three hundred feet.
Besides their boats of wood the Goldees make canoes of birch bark,
quite broad in the middle and coming to a point at both ends. In
general appearance these canoes resemble those of the Penobscot and
Canadian Indians. The native sits in the middle of his canoe and
propels himself with a double-bladed oar, which he dips into the water
with regular alternations from one side to the other. The canoes are
flat bottomed and very easy to overturn. A canoe is designed to carry
but one man, though two can be taken in an emergency. When a native
sitting in one of them spears a fish he moves only his arm and keeps
his body motionless. At the Russian village of Gorin there was an
Ispravnik who had charge of a district containing nineteen villages
with about fifteen hundred inhabitants. At Gorin the river is two or
three miles wide, and makes a graceful bend. We landed near a pile of
ash logs awaiting shipment to Nicolayevsk. The Ispravnik was kind
enough to give me the model of a Goldee canoe about eighteen inches
long and complete in all particulars. It was made by one Anaka
Katonovitch, chief of an ancient Goldee family, and authorized by the
emperor of China to wear the uniform of a mandarin. The canoe was
neatly formed, and reflected favorably upon the skill of its designer.
I boxed it carefully and sent it to Nicolayevsk for shipment to
America.
The Ispravnik controlled the district between Habarofka and Sofyesk on
both banks of the river, his power extending over native and Russian
alike. He said that this part of the Amoor valley was very fertile,
the yield of wheat and rye being fifteen times the seed. The principal
articles cultivated were wheat, rye, hemp, and garden vegetables, and
he thought the grain product of 1866 in his district would be thirty
thousand poods of wheat and the same of rye. With a population of
fifteen hundred in a new country, this result was very good.
The Goldees do not engage in agriculture as a business. Now and then
there was a small garden, but it was of very little importance. Since
the Russian occupation the natives have changed their allegiance from
China to the ‘White Czar,’ as they call the Muscovite emperor.
Formerly they were much oppressed by the Manjour officials, who
displayed great rapacity in collecting tribute. It was no unusual
occurrence for a native to be tied up and whipped to compel him to
bring out all his treasures. The Goldees call the Manjours ‘rats,’ in
consequence of their greediness and destructive powers.
The Goldees are superior to the Gilyaks in numbers and intelligence,
and the Manjours of Igoon and vicinity are in turn superior to the
Goldees. The Chinese are more civilized than the Manjours, and call
the latter ‘dogs.’ The Manjours take revenge by applying the epithet
to the Goldees, and these transfer it to Mangoons and Gilyaks. The
Mangoons are not in large numbers, and live along the river between
the Gilyaks and Goldees. Many of the Russian officials include them
with the latter, and the captain of the Ingodah was almost unaware of
their existence.
A peculiar kind of fence employed by the Russian settlers on this part
of the Amoor attracted my attention. Stakes were driven into the
ground a foot apart and seven feet high. Willow sticks were then woven
between these stakes in a sort of basket work. The fence was
impervious to any thing larger than a rat, and no sensible man would
attempt climbing it, unless pursued by a bull or a sheriff, as the
upper ends of the sticks were very sharp and about as convenient to
sit upon as a row of harrow-teeth.
It reminded me of a fence in an American village where I once lived,
that an enterprising fruit-grower had put around his orchard,—a
structure of upright pickets, and each picket armed with a nail in the
top. One night four individuals bent on stealing apples, were
confronted by the owner and a bull-dog and forced to surrender or leap
the fence. Three of them were “treed” by the dog; the fourth sprang
over the fence, but left the seat of his trousers and the rear section
of his shirt, the latter bearing in indelible ink the name of the
wearer. The circumstantial evidence was so strong against him that he
did not attempt an alibi, and he was unable to sit down for nearly a
fortnight.
[Illustration: TAIL PIECE—THE NET]