I spent three days in Krasnoyarsk, chiefly employed upon my letters
and journal. My recent companions were going no farther in my
direction, and knowing this beforehand, I arranged with a gentleman at
Irkutsk to travel with him from Krasnoyarsk. He arrived two days
behind me, and after sending away a portion of his heavy baggage, was
ready to depart. There was no snow to the first station, and so we
sent our sleighs on wheels and used the post carriages over the bare
ground. A peasant who lived near the station sought me out and offered
to transport my sleigh for three roubles and a little drink-money. As
I demurred, he proposed to repair, without extra charge, one of my
fenders which had come to grief, and we made a bargain on this
proposition.
My companion, Dr. Schmidt, had recently returned from a
mammoth-hunting expedition within the Arctic circle. He had not
secured a perfect specimen of this extinct beast, but contented
himself with some parts of the stupendous whole, and a miscellaneous
collection of birds, bugs, and reptiles. He despatched a portion of
his treasures by post; the balance, with his assistant, formed a
sufficient load for one sleigh. The doctor was to ride in my sleigh,
while his assistant in another vehicle kept company with the relicts.
The kegs, boxes, and bundles of Arctic zoology did not form a
comfortable couch, and I never envied their conductor.
On the day fixed for our departure we sent our papers to the station
in the forenoon, and were told we could be supplied at sunset or a
little later. This was not to our liking, as we desired to reach the
first station before nightfall. A friend suggested an appeal to the
Master of the post, and together we proceeded to that functionary’s
office. An amiable, quiet man he was, and listened to our complaint
with perfect composure. After hearing it he summoned the smotretal
with his book of records, and an animated discussion followed. I
expected to see somebody grow indignant, but the whole affair abounded
in good nature.
The conversation was conducted with the decorum of a school dialogue
on exhibition day. In half an hour by the clock I was told I could
have a troika at once, in consideration of my special passport. “Wait
a little,” whispered my friend in French, “and we will have the other
troika for Schmidt.”
So I waited, kicking my heels about the room, studying the posters on
the walls, eyeing a bad portrait of the emperor, and a worse one of
the empress, and now and then drawing near the scene of action. The
clerks looked at me in furtive glances. At every pronunciation of my
name, coupled with the word “Amerikansky,” there was a general stare
all around. I am confident those attachés of the post office at
Krasnoyarsk had a perfect knowledge of my features.
In exactly another half hour our point and the horses were gained.
When we entered the office it was positively declared there were no
horses to be had, and it was a little odd that two troikas and six
horses, could be produced out of nothing, and each of them at the end
of a long talk. I asked an explanation of the mystery, but was told it
was a Russian peculiarity that no American could understand.
The horses came very promptly, one troika to Schmidt’s lodgings and
the other to mine. The servants packed my baggage into the little
telyaga that was to carry me to the first station. Joining Schmidt
with the other team, we rattled out of town on an excellent road, and
left the red hills of Krasnoyarsk. The last object I saw denoting the
location of the town was a church or chapel on a high cliff
overlooking the Yenesei valley. The road lay over an undulating
region, where there were few streams and very little timber. The snow
lay in little patches here and there on the swells least exposed to
the sun, but it did not cover a twentieth part of the ground. In
several hollows the mud had frozen and presented a rough surface to
our wheels. Our telyaga had no springs, and when we went at a rapid
trot over the worst places the bones of my spinal column seemed
engaged in a struggle for independence. A thousand miles of such
riding would have been too much for me. A dog belonging to Madame
Radstvenny’s house-keeper followed me from Krasnoyarsk, but did not
show himself till we were six or eight versts away. Etiquette, to say
nothing of morality, does not sanction stealing the dog of your host,
and so I arranged for the brute’s return. In consideration of fifty
copecks the yemshick agreed to take the dog on his homeward trip and
deliver him in good order and condition at Krasnoyarsk.
Just before reaching the first station we passed through a village
nearly four miles long, but only a single street in width. The station
was at the extreme end of the village; our sleighs were waiting for
us, and so were the men who brought them from Krasnoyarsk. There was
no snow for the next twenty versts, and consequently the sleighs
needed further transportation. Schmidt’s sleigh was dragged empty over
the bare ground, but mine, being heavier, was mounted upon wheels.
Other difficulties awaited us. There was but one troika to spare and
only one telyaga. We required two vehicles for ourselves and baggage,
but the smotretal could not accommodate us. We ordered the samovar,
and debated over our tea. I urged my friend to try the effect of my
special passport, which had always been successful in Paul’s hands. He
did so after our tea-drinking, but the document was powerless, the
smotretal doubtless arguing that if the paper were of consequence we
should have shown it on our arrival. We sent it to the _starost_, or
head man of the village, but that worthy declined to honor it, and we
were left to shift for ourselves. Evidently the power of the Governor
General’s passport was on the wane.
The document was a request, not an order, and therefore had no real
force. Paul always displayed it as if it were an Imperial ukase. His
manner of spreading the double page and exhibiting seal and signature
carried authority and produced horses. The amiable naturalist had none
of the quality called ‘cheek,’ and the adoption of an authoritative
air did not accord with his character. He subsequently presented the
passport as if he thought it all-powerful, and on such occasions it
generally proved so. A man who wishes to pass a doorkeeper at a
caucus, enter a ladies’ car on a railway, or obtain a reserved seat in
a court room, is much more certain of success if he advances with a
confident air than if he hesitates and appears fearful of ejection.
Humanity is the same the world over, and there is more than a shadow
of truth in the saying that society values a man pretty much as he
appears to value himself. I can testify that the smotretals in Siberia
generally regarded our papers according to our manner of showing them.
We took tea a second time, parlayed with the yemshicks and their
friends, and closed by chartering a team at double the regular rates.
Just before reaching the snow we passed the sleighs, and halted for
them to come up. My sleigh was very soon ready, and we rejoiced at our
transfer of baggage. During the change a bottle of cognac disappeared
mysteriously, and I presume we shall never see it again. The other and
more cumbersome articles preserved their numbers faithfully. Our party
halting in the moonlight and busy about the vehicles, presented a
curiously picturesque appearance. Schmidt was in his Arctic costume,
while I wore my winter dress, minus the dehar. The yemshicks were
wrapped in their inevitable sheepskins, and bustled about with
unwavering good humor.
In the sleigh we were at home, and had a roof to cover us; we made
very good speed to the station, where we found no horses. The floor of
the travelers’ room was covered with dormant figures, and after
bumping my head over the doorway, I waded in a pond of bodies, heads,
and legs. The moon was the only light, and its beams were not
sufficient to prevent my stepping on several sleepers, and extracting
Russian oaths for my carelessness.
“Now for it,” I whispered to the good-natured doctor, as we waked the
smotretal. “Make him think our papers are important.”
The official rubbed his eyes over the passport, and then hastened to
arouse the starost. The latter ordered horses from the village without
delay.
It had been a fete-day in honor of the Emperor, and most of the
villagers were drunk, so that it required some time to assemble the
requisite yemshicks and horses. A group of men and women from an
evening party passed the station, and amused us with native songs. An
inebriated moujik, riding on a small sled, turned from the road to
enter the station yard. One side of the sled passed over a log, and as
the man had not secured his balance, he rolled out of sight in a snow
drift. I watched him as he emerged, much as Neptune might appear from
the crest of a foamy wave.
The Siberians keep all the Imperial fete-days with scrupulous
exactness, and their loyalty to the emperor is much akin to religious
awe. The whole Imperial family is the object of great respect, and
whatever is commanded in the name of the emperor meets the most
cheerful acquiescence. One finds the portrait of Alexander in almost
every house, and I never heard the name of that excellent ruler
mentioned disrespectfully. If His Majesty would request that his
subjects abstain from vodki drinking on Imperial fete-days, he would
do much toward their prosperity. It would be an easy beginning in the
cause of temperance, as no one could consider it out of place for the
emperor to prescribe the manner of celebrating his own festivals. The
work once begun in this way, would be likely to lead to good results.
Drunkenness is the great vice of the Russian peasant, and will never
be suppressed without the active endeavors of the government.
[Illustration: DOWN HILL.]
When we started from the station we ran against the gate post, and
were nearly overturned in consequence. My head came against the side
of the sleigh with a heavy thump that affected me more than it did the
vehicle. We descended a long hill at a full run, and as our yemshick
was far from sober I had a lively expectation of a general smash at
the bottom.
About half way down the descent we met a sleigh and dashed our fenders
against it. The strong poles rubbed across each other like fencing
foils, and withstood the shock finely.
At sunset there were indications of a snow storm, in the gradual
ascent of the thermometer. An hour past midnight the temperature was
above freezing point, and the sleigh runners lost that peculiar
ringing sound that indicates cold weather. I threw off my furs and
endeavored to sleep, but accomplished little in that direction. My
clothing was too thick or too thin. Without my furs I shivered, and
with them I perspired. My sleigh robe was too much for comfort, and
the absence of it left something to be desired. Warm weather is a
great inconvenience in a Siberian winter journey. The best temperature
for travel is from five to fifteen degrees below the freezing point.
The road was abominable, though it might have been worse. It was full
of drifts, bare spots, and _oukhabas_, and our motion was as varied as
a politician’s career. Sometimes it was up, then down, then sidewise,
and then all ways at once. We pitched and rolled like a canoe
descending the Lachine rapids, or a whale-boat towed by a
hundred-barrel “bow-head.” In many places the snow was blown from the
regular road, and the winter track wound through fields and forests
wherever snow could be found. There was an abundance of rocks, stumps,
and other inequalities to relieve the monotony of this mode of travel.
We went much out of our way to find snow, and I think we sometimes
increased, by a third or a half, the distance between stations. The
road was both horizontally and vertically tortuous.
My companion took every occurrence with the utmost coolness, and
taught me some things in patience I had not known before. He was long
accustomed to Siberian travel, having made several scientific journeys
through Northern Asia. In 1859 the Russian Geographical Society sent
him to visit the Amoor valley and explore the island of Sakhalin. His
journey thither was accomplished in winter, and when he returned he
brought many valuable data touching the geology and the vegetable and
animal life of the island. He told me he spoke the American language,
having learned it among my countrymen at Nicolayevsk, but had never
studied English. His journey to the Arctic Circle was made on behalf
of the Russian Academy of Science, of which he was an active member.
In 1865 the captain of a Yenesei steamer learned that some natives had
discovered the perfectly preserved remains of a mammoth in latitude
67°, about a hundred versts west of the river. He announced the fact
to a _savant_, who sent the intelligence to St. Petersburg. Scientific
men deemed the discovery so important that they immediately
commissioned Dr. Schmidt to follow it up. The doctor went to Eastern
Siberia in February, and in the following month proceeded down the
Yenesei to Turuhansk, where he remained four or five weeks waiting for
the season of warmth and light. He was accompanied by Mr. Lopatin, a
Russian geologist, and a staff of three or four assistants. They
carried a photographic apparatus, and one of the sensations of their
voyage was to take photographs at midnight in the light of a blazing
sun.
When the Yenesei was free of ice the explorers, in a barge, descended
from Turuhansk to the landing place nearest the mammoth deposit.
Several Cossacks accompanied the party from Turuhansk, and assisted in
its intercourse with the natives. The latter were peacefully inclined,
and gladly served the men who came so recently from the emperor’s
dwelling place. They brought their reindeer and sledges, and guided
the explorers to the object of their search. The country in the Arctic
Circle has very little vegetation, and the drift wood that descends
the Yenesei is an important item to the few natives along the river.
The trees growing north of latitude 66° are very small, and as one
nears the coast of the Frozen Ocean they disappear altogether. The
principal features of the country are the wide _tundras_, or
moss-covered plains, similar to those of North Eastern Siberia.
The scattered aboriginals are Tunguse and Samoyedes. Their chief
employment is the chase in winter, fishing in summer, and the care of
their reindeer at all seasons. Reindeer form their principal wealth,
and are emphatically the circulating medium of the country. Dr.
Schmidt told me he rode in a reindeer sledge from the river to within
a short distance of the mammoth. It was the month of June, but the
snow had not disappeared and nothing could be accomplished. A second
visit several weeks later was more successful. In the interval the
party embarked on the steamer which makes one or two journeys every
summer to the Arctic Ocean in search of fish, furs, and ivory. A
vigorous traffic is maintained during the short period that the river
remains open.
On the return from the Arctic Ocean, the season was more favorable to
mammoth-hunting. Unfortunately the remains were not perfect. The
skeleton was a good deal broken and scattered, and some parts were
altogether lacking. The chief object of the enterprise was to obtain
the stomach of the mammoth so that its contents could be analyzed. It
is known that the beast lived upon vegetable food, but no one has yet
ascertained its exact character. Some contend that the mammoth was a
native of the tropics, and his presence in the north is due to the
action of an earthquake. Others think he dwelt in the Arctic regions,
and never belonged in the tropics.
“If we had found his stomach,” said the doctor, “and ascertained what
kind of trees were in it, this question would have been decided. We
could determine his residence from the character of his food.”
Though making diligent search the doctor found no trace of the
stomach, and the great point is still open to dispute. He brought away
the under jaw of the beast, and a quantity of skin and hair. The skin
was half an inch thick, and as dry and hard as a piece of sole
leather. The hair was like fine long bristles, and of a reddish brown
color. From the quantity obtained it is thought the animal was pretty
well protected against ordinary weather. The doctor gave me a cigar
tube which a Samoyede fabricated from a small bone of the mammoth. He
estimated that the beast had been frozen about ten thousand years in
the bank where he found him, and that his natural dwelling place was
in the north. The country was evidently much warmer when the mammoth,
roamed over it than now, and there is a belief that some convulsion of
the earth, followed by a lowering of the temperature, sealed the
remains of the huge beasts in the spots where they are now discovered.
In the year 1799 a bank of frozen earth near the mouth of the Lina, in
Latitude 77° broke away and revealed the body of a mammoth. Hair,
skin, flesh and all, had been completely preserved by the frost. In
1806 a scientific commission visited the spot, but the lapse of seven
years proved of serious consequence. There had been a famine in the
surrounding region, and the natives did not scruple to feed their dogs
from the store of flesh which nature had preserved. Not supposing the
emperor desired the bones of the beast they carried away such as they
fancied. The teeth of the bears, wolves, and foxes were worse than
the tooth of Time, and finished all edible substance the natives did
not take. Only the skeleton remained, and of this several bones were
gone. All that could be found was taken, and is now in the Imperial
collection at St. Petersburg.
The remains of the mammoth show that the beast was closely akin to the
elephant, but had a longer and more compressed skull, and wore his
tusks in a different manner. Tusks have been found more than nine feet
long, and I am told that one discovered some years ago, exceeds ten
feet in length. The skull from the Lena mammoth weighed four hundred
and some odd pounds. Others have been found much larger. The mammoth
was evidently an animal that commanded the respect of the elephant,
and other small fry quadrupeds.
Bones of the rhinoceros and hippopotamus abound in Northern Siberia,
and like those of the mammoth are found in the frozen earth. In the
last century the body of a rhinoceros of an extinct species was found
on the river Vilouy, a tributary of the Lena. In the museum at St.
Petersburg there is a head of the Arctic rhinoceros on which the skin
and tendons remain, and a foot of the same animal displays a portion
of its hair. The claws of an enormous bird are also found in the
north, some of them three feet long, and jointed through their whole
length like the claws of an ostrich.
Captain Wrangell and other explorers say the mammoth bones are smaller
on the Arctic islands than on the main land, but are wonderfully
increased in quantity. For many years the natives and fur traders have
brought away large cargoes, but the supply is not yet exhausted. The
teeth and tusks on the islands are more fresh and white than those of
the Continent. On the Lachoff Islands the principal deposit was on a
low sand bank, and the natives declared that when the waves receded
after an easterly wind, a fresh supply was always found. One island
about latitude 80° was said to be largely composed of mammoth bones. I
presume this statement should be received with a little caution.
During the doctor’s expedition the supply of provisions was not
always abundant, but there was no absolute scarcity. The party lived
for some time on fish, and on the flesh of the reindeer. A story was
told that the explorers were reduced to subsisting on the mammoth they
discovered, and hence their failure to bring away portions of the
flesh. Mammoth cutlets and soup were occasionally proposed for the
entertainment of the _savants_ on their return to Irkutsk.
One of my acquaintances had a narrow escape from death on the ice
during an expedition toward Kotelnoi Island, and the chain lying to
the east of it, generally known as New Siberia. It was early in the
spring—somewhat later than the time of the ordinary winter
journeys—that he set out from the mouth of the Lena, hoping to reach
Kotelnoi Island, and return before the weather became warm. He had
four dog teams, and was accompanied by a Russian servant and two Yakut
natives, whom he engaged for a voyage down the Lena, and the
expedition across the ice. It was known that a quantity of ivory had
been gathered on the island, and was waiting for transportation to the
Lena; to get this ivory was the object of the journey. I will tell the
story in the words of the narrator, or as nearly as I can do so from
recollection.
“We reached the island without serious trouble; the weather was clear
and cold, and the traveling quite as good as we expected. Where the
ice was level we got along very well, though there were now and then
deep fissures caused by the frost, and which we had some difficulty in
crossing. Frequently we were obliged to detach the dogs from the sleds
and compel them to jump singly across the fissures. The sledges were
then drawn over by hand, and once on the other side the teams were
re-harnessed, and proceeded on their way. The ice was seven or eight
feet thick, and some of the fissures were a yard wide at the surface,
and tapered to a wedge shape at the bottom. It was not absolutely
dangerous, though very inconvenient to fall into one of the crevices,
and our dogs were very careful to secure a good foothold on the edges
where they jumped.
[Illustration: DOGS AMONG ICE.]
“The second day out we got among a great many hummocks, or detached
pieces of bergs, that caused us much trouble. They were so numerous
that we were often shut out from the horizon, and were guided solely
by the compass. Frequently we found them so thick that it was
impossible to break a road through them, and after working for an hour
or two, we would be compelled to retrace our steps, and endeavor to
find a new route. Where they formed in ridges, and were not too high,
we broke them down with our ice-hatchets; the work was very exhausting
to us, and so was the task of drawing the sledges to the poor dogs.
“Just as we left the level ice, and came among these hummocks, the
dogs came on the fresh track of a polar bear, and at once started to
follow him. My team was ahead, and the dogs set out in full chase, too
rapidly for me to stop them, though I made every effort to do so. The
other teams followed close upon us, and very soon my sledge
overturned, and the dogs became greatly mixed up. The team of Nicolai,
my servant, was likewise upset close to mine, and we had much trouble
to get them right again. Ivan and Paul, the two Yakuts, came up and
assisted us. Their dogs following on our track had not caught the
scent of the bear so readily as ours, and consequently were more
easily brought to a stop.
“We set the sledges right, and when we were ready to start, the sharp
eyes of Ivan discovered the bear looking at us from behind a hummock,
and evidently debating in his mind whether to attack us or not.
Leaving the teams in charge of Paul, I started with Nicolai and Ivan
to endeavor to kill the bear. Nicolai and myself were armed with
rifles, while Ivan carried a knife and an ice-hatchet.
“The bear stood very patiently as we approached; he was evidently
unaccustomed to human visitors, and did not understand what we were
about. The hummock where he stood was not very steep, and I thought it
best to get a position a little above him for better safety, in case
we had a sharp fight after firing our first shot. We took our stand on
a little projection of ice a few feet higher than where he was, and
about thirty paces distant; I arranged that Nicolai should fire first,
as I was a better shot than he, and it would be best for me to have
the reserve. Nicolai fired, aiming at the bear’s heart, which was well
protected, as we knew, by a thick hide and a heavy mass of flesh.
“The shot was not fatal. The bear gave a roar of pain, and sprang
toward us. I waited until he placed his huge fore paws over the edge
of the little ridge where we stood, and exposed his throat and chest.
He was not more than ten feet away, and I buried the bullet exactly
where I wished. But, notwithstanding both our shots, the animal was
not killed, but lifted himself easily above the shelf, and sprang
toward us.
“We retreated higher up to another shelf, and as the bear attempted to
climb it, Nicolai struck him with the butt of his rifle, which the
beast warded off with his paw, and sent whirling into the snow. But at
the same instant Ivan took his opportunity to deal an effective blow
with his ice-hatchet, which he buried in the skull of the animal,
fairly penetrating his brain. The blow accomplished what our shots had
not. Bruin fell back, and after a few convulsive struggles, lay dead
at our feet.
“We hastened back to the teams, and brought them forward. We were not
absent more than twenty minutes, but by the time we returned several
Arctic foxes had made their appearance, and were snuffing the air,
preparatory to a feast. We drove them off, and very soon, the dogs
were enjoying a meal of fresh meat, that we threw to them immediately
on removing the skin of the bear, which the Yakuts accomplished with
great alacrity. The beast was old and tough, so that most of his flesh
went to the dogs, part of it being eaten on the spot, while the rest
was packed on the sledges for future use.
“We had no other incidents of importance until our return from the
island. The weather suddenly became cloudy, and a warm wind set in
from the southward. The snow softened so that the dogs could with
difficulty draw the sledges, even when relieved of our weight. We
walked by their side, encouraging them in every possible way, and as
the softness of the snow increased, it became necessary to throw away
a part of the loads. Our safety required that we should reach the land
as soon as possible, since there were many indications that the ice
was about to break up. After sixteen hours of continuous dragging, we
stopped, quite exhausted, though still thirty miles from land, as it
was absolutely impossible for men or dogs to proceed further without
rest. I was so utterly worn out that I sank upon the snow, hardly able
to move. The Yakuts fed the dogs, and then lay down at their side,
anxiously waiting the morning to bring us relief.
“Just as the day was opening, I was awakened by a rumbling noise, and
a motion below me, followed by a shout from Ivan.
“‘The ice is breaking up!’
“I sprang to my feet, and so did my companions. The dogs were no less
sensible of their danger than ourselves, and stirred uneasily while
giving vent to plaintive whines. The wind from the south had
increased; it was blowing directly off the land, and I could see that
the ice was cracking here and there under its influence, and the whole
field was in motion. Dark lanes appeared, and continued to increase in
width, besides growing every minute more numerous. I ordered all the
loads thrown from the sledges, with the exception of a day’s
provisions for men and dogs, and a few of our extra garments. When
this was done—- and it was done very speedily—- we started for the
shore.
[Illustration: JUMPING THE FISSURES.]
“We jumped the dogs over the smaller crevices without serious
accident, but the larger ones gave us a great deal of trouble. On
reaching them, we skirted along their edges till we could find a cake
of ice large enough to ferry us over. In this way we crossed more than
twenty openings, some of them a hundred yards in width. Do not suppose
we did so without being thrown several times in the water, and on one
occasion four of the dogs were drowned. The poor brutes became tangled
in their harness, and it was impossible to extricate them. All the
dogs seemed to be fully aware of their danger, and to understand that
their greatest safety lay in their obeying us. I never saw them more
obedient, and they rarely hesitated to do what we commanded. It
grieved me greatly to see the dogs drowning when we were unable to
help them, but could only listen to their cries for help, until
stifled by the water.
“We toiled all day, and night found us five miles from shore, with a
strip of open water between us and land. Here and there were floating
cakes of ice, but the main body had been blown off by the wind and
promised to be a mile or two further to the north before morning.
“I determined to wait for daylight, and then endeavor to reach the
shore on cakes of ice. The attempt would be full of danger, but there
was nothing else to be done. Reluctantly I proposed abandoning the
dogs, but my companions appealed to me to keep them with us, as they
had already saved our lives, and it would be the basest ingratitude to
desert them. I did not require a second appeal, and promised that
whatever we did, the dogs should go with us if possible.
“Imagine the horror of that night! We divided the little food that
remained, men and dogs sharing alike, and tried to rest upon the ice.
We had no means of making a fire, our clothing was soaked with water,
and, during the night, the wind shifted suddenly to the northward and
became cold. I was lying down, and fell asleep from utter exhaustion;
though the cold was severe, I did not think it dangerous, and felt
quite unable to exercise to keep warm. The Yakuts, with Nicolai,
huddled among the dogs, and were less wearied than I. When they
shouted to me at daybreak, I slowly opened my eyes, and found that I
could not move. I was frozen fast to the ice!
“Had I been alone there would have been no escape. My companions came
to my relief, but it was with much difficulty that they freed me from
my unpleasant situation. When we looked about, we found that our
circumstances had greatly changed during the night. The wind had
ceased, and the frost had formed fresh ice over the space where there
was open water the day before. It was out of the question to ferry to
land, and our only hope lay in driving the sledges over the new ice. I
ordered the teams to be made ready, and to keep several hundred yards
apart, so as to make as little weight as possible on one spot. I took
one sledge, Nicolai another, and the Yakuts the third. Our fourth
sledge was lost at the time of our accident the day before.
[Illustration: THE TEAM.]
“Our plan was to drive at full speed, to lessen the danger of breaking
through. Once through the ice, there would have been no hope for us.
We urged the dogs forward with loud cries, and they responded to our
wishes by exerting all their strength. We went forward at a gallop. I
reached the shore in safety, and so did Nicolai, but not so the poor
Yakuts.
“When within a mile of the land I heard a cry. I well knew what it
meant, but I could give no assistance, as a moment’s pause would have
seen me breaking through our frail support. I did not even dare to
look around, but continued shouting to the dogs to carry them to land.
Once there, I wiped the perspiration from my face, and ventured to
look over the track where I came.
“The weight of the two men upon one sledge had crushed the ice, and
men, dogs and sledge had fallen into the water. Unable to serve them
in the least, we watched till their struggles were ended, and then
turned sorrowfully away. The ice closed over them, and the bed of the
Arctic Ocean became their grave.”