KRASNOIARSK.
We had now arrived at the terminus of the Trans-Siberian Railway--the
terminus so far as the early spring of 1897 was concerned. The road, we
understood, would be completed as far as Kansk by May, to Nijniudinsk
by the autumn, and to Irkutsk, the capital of Siberia, by the spring of
1898. Our journey from Krasnoiarsk was due south, towards the Syansk
Mountains, and in order to cover the eight hundred odd miles which
separated us from our goal, we had perforce to fall back upon the
original Siberian method of locomotion, the troika sledge.
Pausing here, as we did, for several days, in order to complete our
arrangements for that long and tedious journey, it may not be out of
place to present a few facts with regard to the construction of the
great Siberian railroad, an enterprise which is bound in future years
to become a very important factor in the commerce of Asia. There are
many political writers who assert that the great scheme covering the
idea of a railway across Siberia was one of strategy. Considering the
wealth of her Asiatic provinces, the Pacific littoral, and the Chinese
border, and which have ever been poorly protected, and in the hope of
bringing her Asiatic possessions into closer touch with Europe, Russia
had looked at the matter in a calm and far-seeing light. Russians
themselves, however, argue otherwise. They say that the main idea
which dominated the scheme was commercial enterprise. For very many
years, while Siberia has been growing in richness, and has supplied the
mother-country with most of its commercial products, that country has
been, even to Russians themselves, a land of mystery. It was the late
Emperor Alexander’s idea to construct the line--he was an imperialist
if ever one sat upon the throne of Russia. His predecessors, however,
if they had not shamefully neglected their Asiatic possessions, had
at least treated them with indifference. Siberia has supplied for
many years the finest furs to Moscow and St. Petersburg, the imperial
coffers have been loaded with Siberian gold, and the finest stones
have been sent from Siberia to Russia. There was the great Chinese
tea trade passing through its heart, there was a demand all over that
vast country for European goods, and yet there was no better means of
sending them, or of bringing goods from Siberia itself, than by way
of cumbersome and completely out-of-date caravans such as had toiled
across those plains back in the dark ages.
The scheme of the Siberian railroad was one which recent political
movements have had the effect of altering considerably. Starting from
Chelabinsk, the line goes straight across the Tartar and Barabinski
steppes, through the towns of Kurgan, Petropavlovsk, Omsk, Kainsk,
to Kreveschokovo, crossing the important rivers of the Tobol, Ishim,
and Irtish on its road. This section of the line is no less than 1320
versts long. I have already alluded to the reason why the railway,
instead of describing a northerly course and taking in the town of
Tomsk, went straight ahead to Atchinsk and Krasnoiarsk. After crossing
the Obi, the line is continued to Atchinsk, 551 versts further on,
crossing the rivers Tom and Chulim; then to Krasnoiarsk, another 169
versts; and after that Irkutsk, 1005 versts from the last-named town.
So far, and in spite of the rather mountainous country between the
Obi River and Lake Baikal, the laying of the line, it was considered,
would not offer many difficulties to the engineer. The further project
is to continue the line round the southern shore of the Baikal as far
as Mysofsk, but here it is estimated tremendous difficulties will
have to be encountered, for the line is to pass along a valley which
is frequently inundated, and will necessitate the building of huge
embankments. The valley of the Irkut is to be followed as far as the
slopes of the Sirkisinsk Mountains, where it is to pass through the
first tunnel constructed. In fact, the whole of that portion of the
line running around the Baikal offers tremendous difficulties to the
engineer--marshy grounds, hard rock, and numerous rushing streams
having to be encountered. From here the line, according to the original
plan, was to follow the course of the Selenga, which river it was
to cross on a trestle bridge. Thence through a country of extreme
mountainous character, including the Yablonoi chain, to the watershed
of the Lena and Amoor, the course of the railway was one which only the
most scientific railway engineers in the world would care to tackle.
Nearing Stretinsk the line would be close to the Chinese border, which
it was to follow closely, by the banks of the Amoor and the Ussuri,
until it emerged from the mountains on to the coast and terminated at
Vladivostock.
The railway was commenced at both ends, and the Vladivostock station
was the first to be completed. A glance at the map will show that
from Vladivostock the railway had to take an extreme northward
course, in order to follow the Manchurian border, and at the time
many of those interested in the enterprise looked longingly at that
portion of Manchuria which alone obstructed a straight run across a
flat and easily engineered country from Stretinsk to the coast. The
Chino-Japanese War, and the political complications with Russia which
occurred afterwards, came, for the latter country at any rate, at a
most opportune time, and the result now is that the railway, instead of
going to Vladivostock, as was the original intention, will now depart
from the course at first laid down, and will cut into Manchuria and
drive a straight course down to the Pacific coast at Port Arthur.
The save which will be effected in this later development of the
Trans-Siberian Railway plan can only be appreciated when it is said
that the original line from Stretinsk to Vladivostock would offer
almost precisely similar difficulties to the engineer as those which
the constructors of the Union Pacific Railroad met with, and that the
new project involves nothing more terrible than laying the line on
what is practically a hard, sandy desert. On top of this political
stratagem comes the important fact that by cutting right into the heart
of Chinese tributary states the Trans-Siberian Railway must and will
absorb the bulk of the Chinese tea trade. As an instance of what this
tea trade really means, it is as well to mention that while the greater
portion of it heretofore has been carried by camel caravan across the
Gobi Desert and through the heart of Siberia to Russia, enterprising
traders have found that even a cheaper way to get tea into Russia
has been to ship at Shanghai, and then by the Colombo, Suez, and
Mediterranean route into the English Channel, trans-ship from here into
the steamers for the Arctic seas, and thence by the Kara Sea route down
into the centre of Siberia through the Yenesei River to Krasnoiarsk.
From end to end the line will be about seven thousand versts--4666
miles--but the construction of the main line itself does not
complete the whole enterprise, which will be further increased by
the development of the river traffic, in order to bring towns far
inland in direct steamboat communication with the railway. Wharves and
quays are to be built, branch lines sent out, and, in fact, as time
progresses, the whole scheme is one ambitious enough to bring all the
most important towns in Siberia into direct railway communication with
the Western world. Of the colonization value of the railway I have
already spoken. Siberia as a country is far richer agriculturally, and
in many other respects, than is European Russia, and although it will
take time to convince the somewhat slothful Russian that Siberia is
not all so black as it has been painted, the outlook is one decidedly
of promise. As an earnest of the Government’s endeavours to popularize
this land so little known, foreign traders and travellers are offered
privileges which one would scarcely dream of in connection with a
country which heretofore has seemed unapproachable. For travellers, as
a matter of fact, the Siberian Railway will offer many advantages. The
zone system of railway travelling, which originated in Hungary, is in
force throughout Russia, and at the present time it is possible to buy
a first-class railway ticket at the port of Riga, on the Baltic coast,
to Krasnoiarsk, right in the centre of Siberia, for the sum of £5
15_s._ This price is in such violent contrast to the excessive charges
for horses under the older system of Siberian travelling that it surely
cannot fail to have a very great effect upon the passenger traffic of
Siberia in future years.
Having now done with the railway, we four exiles had perforce to turn
our attention and our thoughts towards horses and sledges. The first
thing to do was to buy sledges, and the next to hire horses. We had
been told that, owing to the competition offered by the railway, we
should find sledges cheap, especially in Krasnoiarsk. A decent sledge,
new, will cost anything from two hundred to three hundred roubles; but
this was not anything like the price which we intended to pay.
Realizing the fact that we were foreigners, with but a scanty knowledge
of Russian, we were prepared to be fleeced a bit; but thanks to the
good offices of our Jewish landlord, we got through the ordeal of
sledge-buying to our complete satisfaction. The landlord knew a man who
had a sledge to sell. I saw his little eyes twinkle with cupidity when
we broached the subject of sledge-buying to him. He asked how much we
were prepared to spend on the sledges. I casually mentioned twenty-five
roubles. He raised his hands in horror. Twenty-five roubles! Why,
that would not purchase the runners! But we had a scheme which brought
him to the business-like point, and that was to offer him a commission
on the purchase, provided we were present, so that he should have no
chance of making any ulterior arrangement with the seller. We arranged
the commission on a sliding scale, so based that for every rouble he
saved us so many more kopecks commission for him. Being shrewd, he
saw the force of our argument, and I must say that in the subsequent
proceedings he behaved as honestly as we could desire.
We drove down to his friend, where, under a shed, the sledge for sale
was frozen hard and fast to the ground. We called forth the proprietor
and demanded its price.
“A hundred roubles.”
Our Jewish friend spat vigorously on the ground, called the other a
moujik and a thief and several other hard names.
“A hundred roubles! Preposterous!” The foreigners would not dream of
paying more than ten. There were plenty of other sledges in the town:
and, in fact, if he did not want to sell, why the Jew himself, in
commiseration for the foreigners, would lend them his own sledges!
This brought the proprietor down to seventy-five roubles. More spitting
and more ejaculations on the part of the Jew.
At a signal we all walked towards the gate and our drosky. The
proprietor ambled after us.
“Fifty roubles, then,” said he.
“Fifteen roubles!” said the Jew.
“It is the only sledge I have,” cried the other, raising both his hands
in mock supplication. “If you take it from me I shall have to walk, for
I must go to Irkutsk next week. There, there, it is a lovely sledge.
Look at the runners, sound and bright as on the day they were put in.
The body of the sledge too, roomy and comfortable; two gentlemen can
sleep here day and night, if they wish. Come now, forty-five roubles.”
“Twenty roubles,” cried the Jew, with his foot on the step of the
drosky.
“Bah!” cried the other, “you would rob me. Go your way.”
He slammed the gate at us, and we all made as if to get into the
drosky. But the Jew, however, motioned to us to wait for a moment;
and then the gate opened, and the hairy face of the sledge-proprietor
appeared. “Forty roubles,” he cried in a sort of half howl.
“Twenty-five,” responded the Jew.
“Not a kopeck less,” said the owner.
“Then drive on, isvostchik,” commanded the Jew.
The isvostchik struck the horse with the end of his reins; but the gate
of the moujik’s hut opened, and out the sledge-proprietor dashed.
“Thirty-five roubles.”
“Twenty-six.”
“Bah! you would rob me; say thirty.”
“Not a kopeck more than twenty-seven.”
“Twenty-seven, very well; but I must have ten kopecks for vodki.”
Out of the drosky we bundled again into the yard; inspected the sledge,
paid twenty-seven roubles for it, and ten kopecks for vodki; found the
first three men we could in the street, and gave them a few kopecks to
run the sledge round to the hotel, and the bargain was completed.
Another sledge was purchased with precisely similar proceedings, but
I must confess that the whole business, irrespective of the undoubted
fact that our Jewish friend pocketed a good round sum on the deal,
turned out much cheaper than we had expected.
The next thing was to purchase our store of provisions, which was to
last something like seven days; for during our passage of the Yenesei
River as far as Minusinsk, the villages would be few and far between,
and even in these villages the traveller would fare badly if he wanted
food. The main post-road to Minusinsk was from Atchinsk, but the river
road, we had been told, was vastly preferable to the post-road, in
spite of the discomfort which would be experienced in having to travel
long distances between villages. Nor could we have the assistance of
the Government post-horses, and should have to rely upon what horses
we could hire along the route in order to forward our journey. Why we
had been advised to take the river route I cannot tell. I can only
say that as it turned out it was a hundred per cent. dearer, two days
slower, and a hundred times more uncomfortable than if we had taken
the regular post-road through Atchinsk. But this fact was not brought
home to us until the return journey was made and the regular method of
communication resorted to.
The packing of a sledge is a task which only the experienced Siberian
traveller should undertake. The body of the vehicle almost touches
the ground, and it is in the body that all the stores are placed;
careful packing with hay and straw, canvas and rope, ensuring a
certain amount of rigidity. The goods are packed as nearly level as
possible, and on the top are thrown heaps of straw, then the pillows,
rugs, and furs of the traveller, who, poor fellow, is compelled, owing
to the general flatness of the vehicle, to assume, during the whole
of his journey, a more or less recumbent attitude. At the first set
off, and when, smothered in our furs, we laid down in our sledges,
everything seemed very jolly and comfortable, and I am sure we all
looked forward with much avidity to our long sledge ride. It was after
two days of it, however, when, what with the packages shifting and our
cramped positions, we began to feel that, wretched as had been the
accommodation of the Siberian railroad trains, one could at least move
about in them with some degree of freedom.
It was afternoon before we were prepared to start on the first stage
of the journey. The nearest village was fifty versts away, and a
Krasnoiarsk moujik had guaranteed to take us there for the sum of
eight roubles per sledge. Hours after the time appointed, he turned up
with his six horses, a douga with its jangling bells hanging over each
shoulder, a bottle of vodki under his arm, and a wooden pipe tucked
between his teeth. Night was already falling, and we were anxious to
be off, as we had no desire to have the first stage of our sledging
accomplished in the dark. The leisurely manner in which this particular
yemshik went about his business exasperated us, and it was already dark
before we were able to scramble in, tuck ourselves in our furs, shake
hands with the hotel proprietor, and give the signal to start.
[Illustration: THE YENESEI RAPIDS--SUMMER.]
And the start was made. The yemshik cracked his knout, gave vent to a
piercing scream, followed it up by a whoop, and then the horses dashed
forward as if they were pursued by demons. We went out of the yard of
the hotel in a sort of a side slide, which brought us up against a
wooden lamp-post on the opposite side of the road with a tremendous
jerk. Then down the road we careered; helter-skelter, bells
jangling, and yemshiks shouting. Round a turn, under a wooden archway,
erected to commemorate the visit of the Czarevitch; and then, with a
plunge and a vision of flying snow from horses’ feet, a cloud of steam
from horses’ nostrils, and with a sort of hold-on-or-be-thrown-out
feeling permeating us, we went down the slope of the river-bank, out
upon the glassy ice, with the whole broad expanse of the frozen Yenesei
before us.