_FROM STRETINSK TO UST-KARA._
Arrival at Stretinsk.--Recorded distances from Petersburg.--Taking
in a passenger.--Travelling allowance to officers.--Parting with
interpreter.--Farewell to tarantass.--Starting to Kara.--The
world before me.--Previous writers on the Amur.--Gliding down
the Shilka.--Talking by signs.--My Cossack attendant.--Taking an
oar.--How Russians sleep.--Arrival at Ust-Kara.
On reaching Stretinsk, we were on the same meridian as Nanking. We
had been reminded of our increasing distance from Petersburg by the
verst-posts which kept us company all the way. At every station, too,
there is a post setting forth how many versts distant are Petersburg,
Moscow, and the government towns on either side. The verst-posts recur
at every two-thirds of an English mile. At the top they are shaped
square, being so turned that the approaching traveller sees at a glance
how many versts it is to the station which he has left, or to which
he is journeying. When we entered Siberia at Tiumen, the distance
was 2,543 versts from Petersburg; at Tomsk it increased to 4,052; at
Krasnoiarsk to 4,606; and at Irkutsk to 5,611; whilst on arrival at
Stretinsk it was almost 7,000 versts, or 4,600 miles.
It has already been stated that, after leaving Nertchinsk, the number
of our horses was reduced. On reaching the last station but one, we
had to take in a passenger. We overtook an officer, his wife and
family, whose acquaintance we had made in the Obi steamer, and whom we
subsequently met several times on our journey eastward. His wife spoke
French, and their three or four children were exceedingly well-behaved.
We could not help pitying this party of six, all of whom were stowed
away in a single tarantass, not much, if any, bigger than ours,
which was not excessively large for two. One of the children, if I
mistake not, was a baby, and if to the discomforts I have described as
accompanying us two be added the crowding of all these children and an
untold quantity of baggage into a single vehicle, then one may picture
some of the difficulties with which Russian officers and their families
travel in Siberia.
This party having arrived before us had secured one “pair” of horses,
and the question arose as to whether the remaining pair should be
given to us or to a telegraph officer, who had also arrived before us,
but who was proceeding in our direction. He proposed that we should
have the horses and take him carriage free, which, rather than wait,
we were glad to do, and he thereby was able to pocket his travelling
allowance.[1]
On arriving at Stretinsk we found it a good-sized town, with hospital,
sundry factories, barracks, and other buildings, befitting the chief
port of the Upper Amur. We were reminded, however, of its distance
from civilized centres almost before our horses stopped, for a youth
rushed up to inquire whether our tarantass was for sale. They make no
axletrees of iron in these parts, and hence, when a traveller arrives
who has a tarantass thus furnished, he has a good chance, after having
had the use of it all across the country, to sell it at Stretinsk for
as much or more than it cost in Europe. White bread was at famine
prices here, costing 6_d._ a lb.--five times as much as we paid at
Tobolsk--because the American flour deposited at Nikolaefsk ascends
the river a distance of nearly 2,000 miles, and the Russian flour,
from Irkutsk, travels 900 miles by land. So between the two, delicate
persons “brought up on white bread,” as the Russians say, fare badly.
We called first at the telegraph office, and presented a letter of
introduction to Mr. Koch, who was ready at once to help, and from
whom I learned that my coming had been announced to the Commandant,
Colonel Merkasin, a worthy officer, of whom I heard a good account
from a released political exile, who said that prisoners received much
kindness at his hands, and that, if the colonel used their labour,
he paid them fairly for their work. We were favoured with his ready
attention, and, on going to his house, found that the Governor of
Chita, according to his promise, had requested him to make arrangements
whereby I might visit the mines of Kara. They were 80 miles distant,
and could be approached in summer by land only by a bridle-path. The
other method was to row down the Shilka in an open boat.
But I was first to part with my interpreter, who was to return from
this place, a day or two afterwards, in our poor old tarantass.[2]
Before parting, there were sundry arrangements to make, and various
things to send back with him, instead of my taking them round the
remainder of the globe; but some of these I never saw again, for at
one of the stations Mr. Interpreter’s portmanteau was stolen, with my
property in it. The only place at Stretinsk in which we could put up
was a small building, dignified with the name of an hotel, consisting
of a central chamber with a billiard table, and a room on either
side--one set apart for women and the other for men. The sleeping
accommodation in the latter was a wooden seat running round the
room--a very common arrangement still in many parts of Russia. They
provided us food, however, and the place sufficed for unpacking and
arranging our effects, of which I intended to take the light baggage
with me, and leave my trunk, “hold-all,” and boxes of books to follow
by the steamer.
I was anxious to get forward as quickly as possible, for it was already
Thursday morning, the 24th of July, and on Sunday evening the steamer
was due to pick me up at Ust-Kara, and take me to the Amur. The colonel
spared no pains to make things go smoothly. He had provided a boat
used by the police, which I was to keep all the way, and not change at
every station. He had also provided a Cossack who was to be my guard,
servant, and attendant, and whom I asked the colonel positively to
order not to leave me till he had delivered me safe into the hands of
Colonel Kononovitch, the Commandant at Kara. The colonel smiled at my
request, and undertook to see that my luggage was properly put on board
the steamer, as also did Mr. Koch; and then, bidding farewell to the
officer and to Mr. Interpreter, I embarked at three o’clock to float
down the waters of the Shilka.
And now the world was before me, and that in a sense in which it had
never been before. I was not only a stranger in a strange land, but
penetrating a region where no English author had preceded me;[3] but
I was far from disliking my new position. The weather was delightful,
save that I rather feared sunstroke, and would fain have had a
cabbage-leaf to put in my hat. The colonel had recommended some other
antidote, but it was rendered unnecessary by the rising of clouds, from
which there fell a few drops of rain. The Cossack had provided two
oarsmen, so that I had nothing to do but to lean back in the boat, and
enjoy the delightful way in which we glided down the stream. It was
so pleasant, too, to miss the dust of the road and the jolting of the
tarantass!
I could ask no questions, from the simple fact that none of my crew
spoke anything but Russ, of which I had hardly learned a dozen words.
I purposely did not spend time in mastering even the elements of the
language, thinking that I should have an interpreter with me all the
way, and not supposing that I should have any further use for my
smatter after leaving the country. Moreover, the Russian alphabet of
36 letters is different from others used in Europe, and is certainly
not inviting. I had very commonly found, among the upper classes of
Russians, that I could get on by some means in French, German, or
English. The post-masters, who happened to be Jews, spoke German; and
when this triglot mode of communication failed, I took to signs and
dumb show--not always, however, with entire success.
At Tomsk, for instance, while Mr. Interpreter was “blowing up”
the officials for allowing us to be sent on the wrong road, I was
peacefully engaged in ordering the samovar and preparing for tea at
the post-house. I wanted some eggs, for which, even if I had learned
it, I had quite forgotten the Russian word, “_yaitsi_.” The Russian
who wanted an egg in England cleverly clucked like a hen, and was
instantly understood; but this did not occur to me. I therefore walked
into the back room, and, to the woman’s astonishment, peeped into the
cupboards and drawers, and examined the shelves; but to no purpose.
I then bethought me of my artistic acquirements, and, taking out a
pencil, drew on the wall an oval the size of an egg, and bade the
woman look at _that_; but she was too dense to catch my meaning. At
this juncture her husband entered, and I appealed to his masculine
intelligence by pointing to the oval on the wall; but he could not
“see” it. A happy thought then struck me, and I remembered that I had
in my provision-basket an egg-cup. I took him accordingly into the
guest-room, and showed it in triumph. But the man mistook it for a
brandy-glass, and said to his wife, “Oh! it is _vodka_ he wants.” I had
therefore to return to the charge, and took him into the yard, thinking
to see a hen walking about; but they were gone to roost. So I pointed
to a pigeon instead, but he perceived no connection between that
and a hen’s egg; nor, on second thoughts, did I. At last I saw in a
corner some broken egg-shells, and, picking them up, showed them, and
effected my object. Further east, I lost a pocket-book containing some
of my most important documents, and was compelled to go through a very
serious conversation all in dumb show; but this I must not anticipate.
On the Shilka I experienced no inconvenience through not knowing
Russ; for, on arriving at the first station, the Cossack went off for
fresh oarsmen, and I aired my dozen words in ordering the _samovar_,
which important word, together with _tarelka_, a plate; _chai_, tea;
_voda_, water; _stakan_, a glass; _sakhar_, sugar; _khleb_, bread; and
_maslo_, butter, I had thoroughly mastered. It was no part of my duty,
I suppose, to feed my Cossack; for I observed he had brought with him
black bread, but of course I offered him tea and other fare, to which
he took very kindly, even to preserved meat, though he fought shy of
anchovy paste, which probably he had never seen before.
Tea over, we left our first station, 17 miles from Stretinsk, for
station number two, 14 miles distant. But on this stage one of our
oarsmen was old and feeble, and I had insisted (by signs and motions)
that an extra hand should be hired, and that the Cossack should be
allowed to rest, which he did by curling himself up in the prow of the
boat and going to sleep. In this state of things darkness came on, and
eight o’clock, nine o’clock, and ten o’clock passed, and still we made
only slow progress. At last, in spite of the remonstrances of the men,
I took an oar myself, pulled away lustily till I had a warm jacket, and
at eleven o’clock we arrived at the post-house of Uktich.
On entering the room a practical illustration was afforded us of the
Oriental custom, “Take up thy bed and walk.” The people of the house,
not expecting travellers, had occupied the guest-chamber,--one on the
bedstead, another on the floor, and so on; but, upon my entering, they
snatched up the rugs or cloths upon which they were lying, and decamped
with alacrity. In crossing Siberia we rarely saw a genuine bed in the
houses of the peasantry, and the people do not usually, I believe,
undress before going to sleep.[4]
Soon after five the next morning, I roused the Cossack, who had taken
up his quarters on the floor of the guest-room, and by six we started
for Botti and Shilkinsk, the third and fourth stations from Stretinsk;
and, after sundry stoppages, at seven in the evening we finished our
day’s pull of 44 miles, and reached Ust-Kara, where Colonel Kononovitch
was awaiting my arrival.
FOOTNOTES:
[1] The Russian Government, when sending officers overland from
Petersburg to the Amur province, say, for instance, to Nikolaefsk,
grants them money according to their rank, and the number of horses
they are supposed to drive. Thus, a lieutenant is allowed 2 horses,
a captain of the third rank 3, captain of the second rank 4, captain
of first rank 5, rear-admiral 6, vice-admiral 7, full admiral 8; and
the sum for horses in each case is doubled; in addition to which, for
outfit, single officers receive on the outgoing journey half a year’s
pay, and married officers a year’s; but when they are returning,
three-fourths of a year’s pay is allowed to married and single alike.
The distance from Petersburg to Nikolaefsk is 9,848 versts, and the
cost of a horse for this distance, at the time of my visit, was 277
roubles--say £28. An officer, therefore, going to this privileged part,
or returning on furlough, might multiply £28 by the number of horses
to which his rank entitled him, double the product, and add 6, 9, or
12 months’ pay, and so realize a heavy purse. Out of this he might
save considerably by hiring less horses than his dignity was supposed
to require, by sharing expenses with another traveller, or, lastly, in
the case of one already in the Amur province, and entitled to leave
on furlough, by giving up his holiday and pocketing the travelling
expenses, which last, I found, was not unfrequently done at Nikolaefsk,
by officers who had got into debt, and looked forward to furlough money
as the means of getting them out of their difficulties.
[2] He left it at Tiumen, where it still may be, for aught I know
to the contrary; in danger, perhaps, of being immortalized, like
another old “equipage,” of which the following story is told. The
Russians apply the term “equipage” to any vehicle, whether on wheels
or runners, and whether drawn by horses, dogs, deer, or camels. The
same word “equipage” is used in Russian, as in French, to denote a
ship’s crew. Accordingly, a few years after the disappearance of Sir
John Franklin, the English Admiralty requested the Russian Government
to make inquiries for the lost navigator along the coasts and islands
of the Arctic Ocean. An order to that effect was sent to the Siberian
authorities, and they in turn commanded all subordinates to inquire and
report; whereupon a petty officer, somewhere in Western Siberia, was
puzzled at the order to inquire concerning the English Captain, John
Franklin, and his equipage. In due time, however, he reported, “I have
made the proper inquiries. I can learn nothing about Captain Franklin,
but in one of my villages there is an old sleigh that no one claims,
which may be his equipage.”
[3] The names of several have been mentioned who crossed Siberia
turning northwards to the Sea of Okhotsk, or southwards to China; some,
too, as Captain Cochrane and Mr. Atkinson, reached Nertchinsk and the
surrounding neighbourhood; but none went on to the Amur. Mr. Atkinson
wrote a book of “Travels in the Region of the Upper and Lower Amur,”
but he did not see the goodly land; he only described it, getting his
information, probably, from the Russian officers who took part in the
annexation of the country; and some of his illustrations, if I mistake
not, from the Russian book of Maack, which has proved a storehouse also
for subsequent writers.
Two American authors, however, had passed this way--Mr. Collins,
who, in 1858, from Chita, floated down the Shilka, continuing the
whole length of the Amur to Nikolaefsk; and Mr. Knox, who, bent on
journalistic enterprise, made his way up the Amur from Nikolaefsk to
Stretinsk. Unfortunately, I had neither of their works with me, nor had
I the more scholarly volume of Mr. Ravenstein, whose production, though
not that of an eye-witness, is far the best English work on the Amur,
being largely compiled from the information given by those Russians who
were the first scientific explorers of the country.
[4] Their favourite place for spending the night is on the top of the
stove, which is sometimes raised at one end by brickwork to form a rest
for the head. Before mounting this, they may perhaps take off their
boots and an upper garment; but an Anglo-Russian lady has told me that,
when living at Kertch, though she made it a condition, before a woman
entered her service, that she should undress before going to bed, yet
servants frequently transgressed; and that, as far as the men were
concerned, they never took off their clothes but for the bath or to
change them.