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.