AT A MILL ON THE TEREK
THE yard cocks are at feud. There has been some harem trouble and so
this is a day of war. Since first crow they have been tumbling over one
another, shedding the red gore and eyeing one another terribly. Now, at
four of the afternoon, they both show signs of strife. Their grand
plumage is dirty, their combs soiled and ugly, their necks gory, their
eyes bloodshot and terrible. Their wives, however, seem placid—almost
indifferent. Unhappy is the lot of rival Sultans!
There are intervals between the battles, intervals of rest and crowing.
Poor Abdul Hamid sits below me and groans with pain, whines almost like
a dog. But in a minute “time’s up,” he goes out and challenges and again
is bloodily overcome. Their claws are bloody, for they strike at one
another with their feet. They jump at one another, balancing themselves
and flapping their wings and try to roll each other in the dust. Truly
it is no wonder there is cock-fighting in Russia when the birds behave
like this when left to themselves. And it is a most interesting
spectacle albeit not Christian.
[Illustration: KAZBEK MOUNTAIN, FROM THE NORTH-WEST]
Whilst they are eyeing one another terribly and furtively, and it looks
doubtful whether Abdul will continue the battle or will abdicate,
Alimka, the yard urchin, steals up behind the victor and suddenly pulls
one of his tail feathers. Consternation! But in a moment they are back
again, beak to beak, and the ruby blood is flowing. A black hen is now
in attendance, and risks having her eyes peeked out in her greedy
endeavours to drink up the blood that is dropping on the ground.
This is happening in the yard of a mill where I am staying. I came here
yesterday in a cart from the mountains, and I have given up the quest of
a cottage for this summer. I have taken two rooms here, and although
they are unfurnished they will suit my purposes. It is on the banks of
the Terek, and presently I shall have to go to the river to fetch water
for tea.
I had been wandering some days among the Georgian villages near Kobi,
when one morning I came into the Georgian Road again and there met a
Russian driving a three-horse cart. He seemed badly in want of company,
so I consented to get in with him. We had the following conversation.
“How do you pray?” asked he.
“What do you mean?” I replied.
“Are you orthodox?”
“I am not Russian,” I replied, “and I don’t belong to the Russian
church.”
“What then? You are Esthonian, eh? Or a Tsech?”
“No, English.”
“English! Impossible! You have a moustache, no Englishman has a
moustache.”
“I am English all the same.”
“Then you are a Protestant. I’m a Baptist.”
“Then we are brothers,” I replied.
“But how do you pray? Do you cross yourself? We pray so.” He showed me
how he prayed, folded his hands on his stomach, and shut his eyes.
“I understand,” I replied. “We pray like that, but we kneel also, and
some of our Protestants cross themselves also.”
He looked shocked but went on:
“Where do you live? You ought to come to our gatherings. There are many
of us here now since the Declaration.”
He was referring to M. Stolypin’s Ukase of October 1908, which granted
freedom to all religious sects in the Empire. I told him I was not
living anywhere in particular, but that I had been tempted to take a
Georgian cottage at a place called Pkhelshi, which had been offered me
at ten roubles a month. My only doubt was of the cleanliness of the
place. I was afraid of being eaten up by insects. The Baptist was
horrified.
“Afraid of insects!” said he. “Better be afraid of getting your throat
cut. No, you leave it to me; I know where you can go. I’ll take you to
our pastor, he has a mill on the river. He is a very good man and very
humble. You go and live with him, he won’t take more than five roubles.”
So I had come to the mill and put my things there, and made it my abode
for the time being. The driver of the cart was very proud of his find,
and introduced me to the miller with not less mystery and secrecy than
he would have unwrapped a gold nugget which he might have picked up on
the mountains. The host took me over and the other bade me farewell; we
should meet again at one of their “gatherings.”
I had two rooms but no furniture. The miller found me a table and I used
a box to sit on. I bought a mattress at a “bazaar” in Vladikavkaz, and a
German oil-stove and glasses and saucers and plates and a saucepan, and
a wooden spoon to stir my soup, and metal spoons to eat it and sup it,
and some knives and a fork. I also bought a penny broom to sweep the
floors and some muslin to make a curtain. Setting up house on my own
account for the first time was a matter of great excitement. In case
anyone might like to try a similar experiment let me write here the
prices I paid:
Mattress 6 shillings
Oil-stove (of the 7 shillings
Beatrice kind)
2 buckets 2 shillings
2 saucers, 4 plates, 1 shilling
2 glasses
Saucepan 2 shillings
Tea-pot and 1 shilling
hot-water jug
A broom, padlock, 1 shilling
nails
A shopping-basket 6 pence
and the muslin cost 8d., and two tins for washing purposes cost 1s. 6d.
The other people were very interested in my place, but did not seem
surprised at the deficiencies. A Russian woman promised to do my
washing, and my neighbour, a Persian, offered me water from his samovar
whenever I required it.
It was an interesting _ménage_, and left me free to go out into the
mountains whenever I wished. I could leave my things behind and be
perfectly sure they were safe, and I could have a postal address. Food
cost me about four shillings a week—for the cost of living was very low.
Milk was 2d. a quart; new-laid eggs, 3d. a dozen; butter, 10d. a pound;
lamb, 4d. a pound; beef, 3d. I lived on the fat of the land at four
shillings a week, and on very hot days I would take my saucepan out to
the ice-cream shop and get it full for sixpence, and then I would invite
Alimka, the yard urchin, and his little sister, Fatima, to have tea with
me.
One day Fatima and Alimka brought me a sparrow which they had caught.
They had tied cotton to one of its legs and had been flying it as one
would a kite. They did not understand cruelty; they thought I should be
amused. So when I took it away they were fearfully enraged, and I
offered them each a halfpenny, and Alimka took his, but Fatima would not
take it; she would have the sparrow back, it was _hers_. She screamed,
and I thought she was going to have a fit. “_Daviety_,” she screamed,
“give it back,” and put everything into that scream—mouth, face, head,
feet, knees, body and red rag of a skirt; all shook and gaped and
screamed, “_Daviety_.” She did not have her way, however, and little
Jason, for so I named him, remained with me, and many a cheerful hour we
spent together. For days I amused myself watching his convalescence. I
caught flies for him and put them in his mouth, whereupon he gulped them
down and chirped. He slept every night on the winter stove, and in the
mornings he flew down and hopped on to my face and chirped, and then I
would waken up and give him some sugar. I took him out and he hopped
along at the side of me on the moors, and jumped and flew and caught
flies for himself. Often he got lost and I could not find him, but after
an hour or so, when I was lying down eating my lunch, or picking wild
strawberries from a bank, he would hop again into view. He was a dear
friend, my little Jason.
Of wild strawberries I made jam, as also of wild plums and cherries, and
this was a great diversion. I offered some to Ali Khan next door, but he
would not take any; perhaps it was part of his religion to refuse, for
the jam was very tempting. Ali Khan made the Persians very interesting
to me, especially as there were many Persians about and he was having
one to tea almost every day.
The miller and his wife looked upon me with parental eyes. They were
much astonished by my ability to do things for myself. The miller was
generally known as the Hözain and his wife the Hözaika. The Hözaika
stood and stared at me when I drew water from the river myself; she
thought it not respectable that a man should do that, and when she came
into my back room one day and found me washing handkerchiefs she fairly
gasped. Poor Hözaika, she also had her tables of conventionalities.
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