During my stay at Blagoveshchensk the governor invited me to assist at
a gazelle hunt.
At nine o’clock on the day appointed we assembled at the house of the
chief of staff. I breakfasted before going there, but it was necessary
to discuss the coming hunt over a second breakfast. Six or eight
ladies were of the party, and the affair had the general appearance of
a picnic. The governor seated me in his carriage at the side of Madame
Pedeshenk, and we led the company to the field of expected slaughter.
With four horses abreast,—two attached to a pole and two outside,—we
dashed over an excellent road leading back from the town. There were
three other carriages and two or three common wagons, in which the
occupants rode on bundles of hay. There was a little vehicle on two
wheels,—a sort of light gig with a seat for only one person,—driven
by a lady. Five or six officers were on horseback, and we had a
detachment of twenty mounted Cossacks to ‘beat the bush.’ Excluding
the Cossacks and drivers, there were about thirty persons in the
party. A mysterious wagon laden with boxes and kegs composed, the
baggage train. The governor explained that this wagon contained the
ammunition for the hunters. No gazelle could have looked upon those
kegs and boxes without trembling in his boots.
A range of low hills six miles from town was the spot selected for the
hunt. There were nine armed men to be stationed across this range
within shooting distance of each other. The Cossacks were to make a
circuitous route and come upon the hills two or three miles away,
where, forming a long line and making much noise, they would advance
in our direction. Any game that happened in the way would be driven to
us. We were to stand our ground with firmness and shoot any gazelle
that attacked us. I determined to fight it out on that line.
The road from Blagoveshchensk led over a birch-covered plain to the
bank of the Zeya, four miles away. We passed on the right a small
mill, which was to be replaced in the following year by a steam
flouring establishment, the first on the Amoor. On reaching the Zeya I
found a village named Astrachanka, in honor of Astrachan at the mouth
of the Volga. The settlers had lived there three or four years, and
were succeeding well in agriculture. They were of the class known as
German Mennonites, who settled on the steppes of Southern Russia at
the commencement of the present century. They are members of the
Lutheran church, and famed for their industry and their care in
managing their flocks and fields. The governor praised them warmly,
and expressed the kindest hopes for their prosperity.
[Illustration: THE AMMUNITION WAGON.]
We left the road near the village and passed through a field in the
direction of the hunting ground. Two men were at work with a yoke of
oxen and a plough, whose beam rested on the axle of a pair of wheels.
The yoke was like the one in use everywhere along the Amoor, and was
made of two pieces of thick plank, one above and the other below the
animals’ necks, with wooden pins to join them and bear the strain. The
plough was quite primitive and did not stir the soil like an American
or English plough. At the hunting ground we alighted and took our
stations. The governor stood under a small oak, and the ladies rested
on the grass near him. I went to the next post up the hollow, and the
other hunters completed the line. Dr. Snider went to aid me in taking
“a dear gazelle,
To glad me with its soft black eye.”
He was armed with a cigar, while I had a double-barreled gun, loaded
at (not to) the muzzle.
The Cossacks went to rouse the game, but their first drive resulted in
nothing beyond a prodigious noise. When they started for the second
drive I followed the doctor in a temporary visit to the ladies. During
this absence from duty a large gazelle passed within ten steps of my
station. I ran toward my post, but was not as nimble as the frightened
deer.
“_Tirez_” commanded the governor.
“Fire,” shouted the doctor.
And I obeyed the double injunction. The distance was great and the
animal not stationary. I fired, and the governor fired, but the only
effect was to quicken the speed of our game. I never knew a gazelle to
run faster. Three weeks later I saw a beast greatly resembling him
running on a meadow a thousand miles from Blagoveshchensk. Whether it
was the same or another I will not attempt to say.
A few minutes after this failure the horn of the hunter was heard on
the hill, and two gazelles passed the line, but no game was secured.
The governor proposed a change of base, and led us where the
mysterious wagon had halted. The ‘ammunition’ was revealed. There were
carpets and cloths on the grass, plates, knives and forks, edibles in
variety, wine, ale, and other liquids, and the samovar steaming
merrily at our side. I think we acquitted ourselves better at this
part of the hunt than at any other. The picnic did not differ much
from an American one, the most noticeable feature being the
substantial character of solids and liquids. Most of us sat on the
grass and stumps, the number of camp-stools not exceeding half a
dozen.
Finishing the lunch we took a new hunting spot and managed to kill a
gazelle and a large hare. A fourth drive brought no game, and we
returned to enjoy another lunch and drink a Russian beverage called
‘jonca.’ In its preparation a pound or two of loaf sugar in a single
lump is fixed on a wire frame above a copper pan. A bottle of cognac
is poured over the sugar and set on fire. The sugar melts, and when
the fire is almost extinguished a bottle of claret and one of
champagne are added. The compound is taken hot, and has a sweet and
very smooth taste. The Russians are fond of producing this beverage
when they have foreign guests, and if taken freely it has a weakening
tendency. The captain of the Variag told me he had placed several
British officers under his table by employing this article, and there
was a rumor that the Fox embassy to St. Petersburg was quite severely
laid out by means of ‘jonca.’
The lunch finished we discharged our guns and returned to town at a
rapid pace. While descending the bank of a brook our horses turned
suddenly and nearly overset the carriage. The doctor and I jumped out
to lighten the lower side, and were just in season to keep the wheels
on the ground. Madame Pedeshenk followed into the arms of the strong
doctor, but the governor, true to the martial instinct, remained in
his place and gave instructions to the driver. We did not re-enter the
carriage until it was across the brook; the horses were exercised
rather violently during the remainder of the journey.
I think the gazelle we killed was identical with the antelope of our
western plains. He had a skin of the same color and a white tail, that
retreating flag-of-truce so familiar to our overland emigrants. His
feet, head, and body were shaped like the antelope’s, and his eye had
that liquid tenderness so often observed in the agile rover near the
foot of the Rocky Mountains. Gazelles abound through the Amoor valley
to within a hundred miles of the sea-coast. Many are killed every
autumn and winter in the valley of the Zeya and along the middle
Amoor. The flesh is eaten and the skin used for winter coats and
similar articles.
The commerce of Blagoveshchensk is in the hands of half a dozen
merchants, one French, one German, and the rest Russian. The Amoor
company before its affairs were ended kept there one of its principal
stores, which was bought, with stock and good will, by the company’s
clerk. The wants of the officers, soldiers, and civilians in the town
and its vicinity are sufficient to create a good local trade. Prices
are high, nearly double those of Nicolayevsk, and the stocks of goods
on hand are neither large nor well selected. Officers complained to me
of combinations among the merchants to maintain prices at an
exorbitant scale.
I staid four days at Blagoveshchensk, and as the season was growing
late was quite anxious to depart. The days were charming,
corresponding to our Indian Summer, and the nights cool and frosty.
The passenger on our steamer from Igoon said ice would be running in
the river in twenty-five days unless the season should be unusually
mild. Russians and Chinese were preparing for cold weather, and I
wished to do the same farther westward. Borasdine contemplated a land
journey in case we were delayed more than five days. The Korsackoff
was the only steamer to ascend the river, and she was waiting for the
Constantine to bring her a barge. On the evening of the 5th October
the governor informed me the Korsackoff would start on the next day,
barge or no barge. This was cheering, and I celebrated the occasion by
boiling myself in a Russian bath.
I look upon the bath as one of the blessings of Russia. At the end of
a journey, when one is sore and stiff in the joints, it is an
effectual medicine. After it the patient sleeps soundly, and rises in
the morning thoroughly invigorated. Too much bathing deadens the
complexion and enfeebles the body, but a judicious amount is
beneficial. It is the Russian custom, not always observed, to bathe
once a week. The injury from the bath is in consequence of too high
temperature of steam and water, causing a severe shock to the system.
Taken properly the bath has no bad effects, and will cure rheumatism,
some forms of neuralgia, and several other acute diseases.
The bath-house is a building of two, and generally three, rooms. In
the outer room you undress, and your _chelavek_, or servant, does the
same. If there is but another room you are led directly into it, and
find a hot fire in a large stove. There is a cauldron of hot water and
a barrel of cold water close at hand. The tools of the operator are a
bucket, two or three basins, a bar of soap, a switch of birch boughs,
and a bunch of matting. If there are three apartments the second is
only an ante-room, not very warm and calculated to prepare you for the
last and hottest of all.
The chelavek begins by throwing a bucket of warm water over you. He
follows this with another, and then a third, fourth, and fifth, each a
little warmer than its predecessor. On one side of the room is a
series of benches like a terrace or flight of large steps. You are
placed horizontally on a bench, and with warm water, soap, and bunch
of matting the servant scrubs you from head to foot with a
manipulation more thorough than gentle. The temperature of the room is
usually about 110° Fahrenheit, but it may be more or less. It induces
vigorous perspiration, and sets the blood glowing and tingling, but it
never melts the flesh nor breaks the smallest blood vessel. The
finishing touch is to ascend the platform near the ceiling and allow
the servant to throw water upon hot stones from the furnace. There is
always a cloud of steam filling the room and making objects
indistinct. You easily become accustomed to the ordinary heat, but
when water is dropped upon the stones there is a rush of blistering
steam. It catches you on the platform and you think how unfortunate is
a lobster when he goes to pot and exchanges his green for scarlet.
I declined this _coup de grace_ after a single experience. To my view
it is the objectionable feature of the Russian bath. I was always
content after that to retire before the last course, and only went
about half way up the terrace. The birchen switch is to whip the
patient during the washing process, but is not applied with unpleasant
force. To finish the bath you are drenched with several buckets of
water descending from hot to cold, but not, as some declare,
terminating with ice water. This little fiction is to amuse the
credulous, and would be ‘important if true.’ Men have sometimes rushed
from the bath into a snow bank, but the occurrence is unusual.
Sometimes the peasants leave the bath for a swim in the river, but
they only do so in mild weather. In all the cities there are public
bath rooms, where men are steamed, polished, and washed in large
numbers. In bathing the Russians are more gregarious than English or
Americans. A Russian would think no more of bathing with several
others than of dining at a hotel table. Nearly every private house has
its bath room, and its frequent use can hardly fail to be noticed by
travelers.
[Illustration: FINISHING TOUCH.]
On the morning of the 6th the Constantine arrived, having left the
Korsackoff’s barge hard aground below Igoon. So we were to start
unencumbered. I took my baggage to the Korsackoff, and was obliged to
traverse two barges before I reached the boat. Twelve o’clock was the
hour appointed for our departure, and at eleven the fires were burning
in the furnaces. A hundred men were transferring freight from the
Constantine to the Korsackoff, and made a busy scene. Four men
carrying a box of muskets ran against me on a narrow plank, and had
not my good friend the doctor seized me I should have plunged headlong
into the river. The hey-day in my blood was tame; I had no desire to
fall into _l’Amour_ at that season.
At eleven there came an invitation to lunch with the governor at two.
“How is this?” I said to the doctor; “start at twelve and lunch here
two hours later!” Smiling the doctor replied:
“I see you have not yet learned our customs. The governor is the
autocrat, and though the captain positively declares he will start at
noon you need not be uneasy. He will not go till you are on board, and
very likely you will meet him at lunch.”
At two o’clock I was at the governor’s, where I found the anxious
captain. When our lunch was finished Madame Pedeshenk gave me some
wild grapes of native production. They were about the size of peas,
and quite acid in taste. With cultivation they might be larger and
better flavored, just as many of our American grapes have improved in
the past twenty years. Some of the hardier grapes might be
successfully grown on the middle Amoor, but the cold is too long and
severe for tender vines. Attached to his dwelling the governor has a
hot-house that forms a pleasant retreat in winter. He hopes to
introduce vines and raise hot-house grapes in Siberia within a few
years.
I walked to the boat with Doctor and Madame Snider, our promenade
being enlivened by a runaway horse that came near dragging a cart over
us. The governor and his lady were there, with nearly all the
officers, and after saying adieu I stepped on board, and we left the
pier. We waved kerchiefs again and again as long as waves could be
seen.
There was a cabin on the Korsackoff about eight feet square, with four
small rooms opening out of it. Borasdine and I had two of these. My
apartment had two bunks and no bedding, but the deficiency was atoned
for by a large number of hungry and industrious fleas. Of my blankets
and pillow I made my own bed, and slept in it as on the Ingodah. My
only chair was a camp stool I carried from San Francisco with the
design of giving it away on reaching the end of my water travel.
Going on board the steamer I met a drunken priest endeavoring to walk
to the pier, and in the cabin I found another lying on a sofa, and, as
I supposed, very ill. Borasdine observed my look of compassion, and
indicated by signs the cause of the malady. The priest going ashore
had been saying farewell to the one on board, and their partings were
such as press the life from out young hearts and bottles. Our holy
passenger did not feel himself again until the next day.
There are many good men among the priests of the Eastern church in
Siberia, but it must also be admitted there are many bad ones. In a
country where the clergy wields as great power as in Russia the
authorities should take care that the representatives of the church
set a good example. The intemperance so prevalent among the peasantry
is partly due to the debaucheries of the priesthood. Where the people
follow their religious leaders with blind faith and obey their
commands in all the forms of worship, are they not in danger of
following the example of drunkenness? Russian officers frequently
spoke of the condition of the church in Eastern Siberia, and declared
with emphasis that it needed reformation. “Our priests,” said one,
“have carried our religion wherever our armies have carried conquest,
and their efforts to advance Christianity deserve all praise. But
abuses exist and have grown up, and the whole system needs to be
arranged anew.”
We had much freight on board, consisting chiefly of muskets for the
province of the Trans-Baikal. There were many passengers that lived
literally on deck. They were aft of the engines and above our cabin.
On deck we had the forward part of the boat as on the Ingodah. The
deck passengers were soldiers, and Cossacks in their long grey coats,
and peasants of all ages in garments of sheepskin. There were women
with infants, and women without infants, the former being the more
numerous. They were on deck day and night, unless when opportunity
offered to go on shore. They did their cooking at the galley or at a
stove near the stern of the boat. They never made any noise or
disturbance, beyond the usual confusion where many persons are
confined in a small space.
There were three horses tied just over my cabin with only a single
plank between their heels and my head. Nearly every night their horse
polkas and galops disturbed my sleep. Sometimes early in the morning,
when the frost was biting, they would have kicking matches of twenty
or thirty minutes, conducted with the greatest vigor. The temporary
stable was close to the cabin skylight, so that we had the odors of a
barn-yard without extra charge. This would have been objectionable
under other circumstances, but the cabin was so dirty that one could
not be fastidious about trifles.
The captain had a neat cabin of his own on the upper deck, and did not
trouble himself much about the quarters of his passengers, as the
regulations do not require him to look after their welfare. He was a
careful commander and prompt in discharging his duties. By law
steamboat captains cannot carry their wives on board. This officer had
a little arrangement by which he was able to keep the word of promise
to the ear and break it to the hope.
We were short of fuel at starting, and barely escaped trouble in
consequence. The first pile visible contained only a cord or two; we
took this and several posts that had been fixed in the ground to mark
the locality. When this supply was burned we cut up our landing planks
and all the spare bits of wood we could find. A court of inquiry was
held over the horse-troughs, but they were considered too much
water-soaked for our purpose. As a last resort I had a pound of
candles and a flask of brandy, but we happily reached a wood-station
without using my light baggage.
The Korsackoff was an iron boat of a hundred horse power, with hull
and engines of English make. Her cabins were very small and as dirty
as diminutive. There was no cabin steward, and I sincerely believe
there had never been one. We were warned of this before leaving
Blagoveshchensk, and by way of precaution purchased enough bread,
pickles, cheese, mustard, preserves, candles, etc., to stock a modest
grocery. We bought eggs at the landings, and arranged for the samovar
every morning. We engaged a Cossack passenger as our servant for the
voyage, and when we wished our eggs boiled we sent him with them to
the cook. Of course we had an arrangement with the latter functionary.
Our next move was to make terms with the captain’s steward for a
dinner at the hour when he fed his chief. Our negotiations required
much diplomacy, but our existence depended upon it, and what will not
man accomplish when he wants bread and meat?
We spread our table in one of our rooms. For breakfast we took tea and
boiled eggs, and for dinner we had cabbage soup, roast beef or fowl,
and cutlets. The cook succeeded very well, and as our appetites were
pretty sharp we voted the dinners a success. We used our own bread,
tea, pickles, and preserves, employing the latter as a concluding
dish. Our Cossack was not very skillful at housework, and made many
blunders in serving. Frequently he brought the soup tureen before
arranging the table, and it took him some time to learn the
disadvantage of this practice.
Leaving Blagoveshchensk the country continued level near the river,
but the mountains gradually approached it and on the south bank they
came to the water fifteen or twenty miles above Sakhalin-Oula. On the
north the plain was wider, but it terminated about forty miles above
Blagoveshchensk,—a series of low hills taking its place. The first
day we ran twenty-five or thirty versts before sunset. The river was
less than a mile wide, and the volume of water sensibly diminished
above the Zeya. As the hills approached the river they assumed the
form of bluffs or headlands, with plateaus extending back from their
summits. The scenery reminded me of Lake Pepin and the region just
above it. On the northern shore, between these bluffs and the river,
there was an occasional strip of meadow that afforded clinging room to
a Russian village. At two or three settlements there was an abundance
of hay and grain in stacks, and droves of well fed cattle, that
indicated the favorable character of the country.
At most villages along the Amoor I found the crow and magpie abundant
and very tame. At Blagoveshchensk several of these birds amused me in
sharing the dinner of some hogs to the great disgust of the latter.
When the meal was finished they lighted on the backs of the hogs and
would not dismount until the latter rolled in the dirt. No one appears
to think them worth shooting, and I presume they do no damage.
One day walking on shore I saw a flock of pigeons, and returned to the
boat for Borasdine’s gun. As I took it I remarked that I would shoot a
few pigeons for dinner.
“Never think of it,” said my friend.
“And why?”
“Because you will make the peasants your enemies. The news would
spread that you had killed a pigeon, and every peasant would dislike
you.”
“For what reason?”
“The pigeon or dove is held sacred throughout Russia. He is the living
symbol of the Holy Spirit in the faith of the Eastern church, and he
brought the olive branch to The Ark when the flood had ceased. No
Russian would harm one of these birds, and for you to do so would show
disrespect to the religion of the country.”
I went on shore again, but without a gun.
Every day we saw rafts moving with the stream or tied along the shore.
They were of logs cut on the upper Amoor, and firmly fastened with
poles and withes. An emigrant piles his wagon and household goods on a
raft, and makes a pen at one side to hold his cattle. Two or three
families, with as many wagons and a dozen or twenty animals, were
frequently on one raft. A pile of earth was the fire place, and there
was generally a tent or shelter of some kind. Cattle were fed with
hay carried on board, or were turned ashore at night to graze.
[Illustration: EMIGRANTS ON THE AMOOR.]
Some rafts were entirely laden with cattle on their way to market or
for government use at Nicolayevsk. This is the most economical mode of
transportation, as the cattle feed themselves on shore at night, and
the rafts float with the current by day. A great deal of heavy freight
has been carried down the Amoor in this way, and losses are of rare
occurrence. The system is quite analogous to the flat-boat navigation
of the Mississippi before steamboats were established. We met a few
Russian boats floating or propelled by oars, one of them having a crew
of six Cossacks and making all haste in descending. We supposed it
contained the mail due at Blagoveshchensk when we left. The government
has not enough steamers to perform its service regularly, and
frequently uses row boats. The last mail at Blagoveshchensk before my
arrival came in a rowboat in fifteen days from Stratensk.
Ascending the river we made slow progress even without a barge. Our
machinery was out of order and we only carried half steam. We ran only
by day, and unfortunately the nights had a majority of the time. We
frequently took wood in the middle of the day, and on such occasions
lost from one to three hours. Our average progress was about sixty
miles a day. I could not help contrasting this with journeys I have
made on the Mississippi at the rate of two hundred miles in
twenty-four hours. A government boat has no occasion to hurry like a
private one, and the pilot’s imperfect knowledge of the Amoor operates
against rapidity. In time I presume the Siberian boats will increase
their speed.
The second day from Blagoveshchensk we were where the Amoor flows
twenty-five versts around a peninsula only one verst wide. Just above
this, at the village of Korsackoff, was the foot of another bend of
twenty-eight versts with a width of three. Borasdine and I proposed
walking and hunting across the last neck of land, but the lateness of
the hour forbade the excursion, as we did not wish to pass the night
on shore, and it was doubtful if the boat could double the point
before dark. We should have crossed the first peninsula had it not
been in Chinese territory. To prevent possible intrusion the
Celestials have a guard-house at the bend.
At the guard-house we could see half a dozen soldiers with matchlocks
and lances. There was a low house fifteen or twenty feet square and
daubed with mud according to the Chinese custom. There was a quantity
of rubbish on the ground, and a couple of horses were standing ready
saddled near it. Fifty feet from the house was a building like a
sentry-box, with two flag-staffs before it; it was the temple where
the soldiers worshipped according to the ceremonies of their faith. I
have been much with the army in my own country, but never saw a
military post of two buildings where one structure was a chapel.
Above the village of Kazakavitch, at the upper extremity of the bend,
there was some picturesque scenery. On one side there were precipitous
cliffs two or three hundred feet high, and on the other a meadow or
plateau with hills in the background. The villages on this part of the
river are generally built twenty or thirty feet above high water mark.
They have the same military precision that is observed below the Zeya,
and each has a bath house set in the bank. Frequently we found these
bath houses in operation, and on one occasion two boys came out clad
in the elegant costume of the Greek Slave, without her fetters. They
gazed at the boat with perfect _sang froid_, the thermometer being
just above freezing point. The scene reminded me of the careless
manners of the natives at Panama.
Opposite Komarskoi the cliffs on the Chinese shore are perpendicular,
and continue so for several miles. At their base there is a strong
current, where we met a raft descending nearly five miles an hour. In
going against the stream our pilots did not seek the edge of the river
like their brethren of the Mississippi, but faced the current in the
center. Possibly they thought a middle course the safest, and
remembered the fate of the celebrated youth who took a short route
when he drove the sun.
Two miles above the settlement is Cape Komara, a perpendicular or
slightly overhanging rock of dark granite three hundred feet high.
Nothing but a worm or an insect could climb its face, and a fall from
its top into the river would not be desirable. The Russians have
erected a large cross upon the summit, visible for some distance up
and down the river. Above this rock, which appears like a sentinel,
the valley is wider and the stream flows among many islands.
We saw just below this rock a Manjour boat tied to the shore, the crew
breakfasting near a fire and the captain smoking in apparent unconcern
at a little distance. On the opposite bank there was a Chinese
custom-house and military station. It had the same kind of house and
temple and the same number of men and horses as the post farther down.
Had it possessed a pile of rubbish and a barking dog the similarity
would have been complete.
There is abundance of water in the Amoor except for drinking purposes.
I was obliged to adopt the plan of towing a bottle out of the cabin
window till it filled. The deck passengers used to look with wonder on
my foreign invention, and doubtless supposed I was experimenting for
scientific purposes. I have heard of a captain on the Ohio who forbade
water to his passengers on account of the low stage of the river.
Possibly the Russian captains are fearful that too much use of water
may affect navigation in future years.