[Illustration: Harry de Windt]

FROM PARIS TO NEW YORK BY LAND

BY HARRY DE WINDTF. R. G. S. 

[Illustration]

THOMAS NELSON & SONSLONDON, EDINBURGH, DUBLIN AND NEW YORK

TO MY WIFE

PREFACE

Many who read the following account of our long land journey will notunnaturally ask: "What was the object of this stupendous voyage, or thereward to be gained by this apparently unnecessary risk of life andendurance of hardships?"

I would reply that my primary purpose was to ascertain the feasibilityof constructing a railway to connect the chief cities of France andAmerica, Paris and New York. The European Press was at the time of ourdeparture largely interested in this question, which fact induced theproprietors of the _Daily Express_ of London, the _Journal_ of Paris, and the New York _World_ to contribute towards the expenses of theexpedition. Another reason is one with which I fancy most Englishmenwill readily sympathise--viz. , the feat had never before been performed, and my first attempt to accomplish it in 1896 (with New York as thestarting-point) had failed half way on the Siberian shores of BeringStraits. 

The invaluable assistance rendered by the United States Government inthe despatch of a revenue cutter to our relief on the Siberian coast isduly acknowledged in another portion of this volume, but I would hereexpress my sincere thanks to the "Compagnie Internationale desWagonslits" for furnishing the expedition with a free pass from Paristo the city of Irkutsk, in Eastern Siberia. In America the "SouthernPacific" and "Wabash" Lines extended the same courtesies, thus enablingus to travel free of cost across the United States, as guests of two ofthe most luxurious railways in the world. 

45 AVENUE KLÉBER, PARIS, _October 1903_. 

CONTENTS

PART I. --EUROPE AND ASIA. 

CHAP. PAGE

I. THROUGH EUROPE. THE TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY. 15II. THE PARIS OF SIBERIA 28III. THE GREAT LENA POST-ROAD 41IV. THE CITY OF THE YAKUTE 68V. THE LAND OF DESOLATION 92VI. VERKHOYANSK 109VII. THROUGH DARKEST SIBERIA 122VIII. AN ARCTIC INFERNO 148IX. THE LOWER KOLYMA RIVER 171X. A CRUEL COAST 183XI. IN THE ARCTIC 203XII. AMONG THE TCHUKTCHIS 221XIII. AMONG THE TCHUKTCHIS (_contd. _) 239

PART II. --AMERICA. 

XIV. ACROSS BERING STRAITS--CAPE PRINCE OF WALES 257XV. AN ARCTIC CITY 274XVI. A RIVER OF GOLD 286XVII. DAWSON 304XVIII. THE UPPER YUKON AND LEWES RIVERS. THE WHITE PASS RAILWAY 323XIX. THE FRANCO-AMERICAN RAILWAY--SKAGWAY--NEW YORK 340

PART III. --APPENDICES. 

I. APPROXIMATE TABLE OF DISTANCES, PARIS TO NEW YORK 361II. LIST OF POST STATIONS BETWEEN IRKUTSK AND YAKUTSK 363III. REINDEER STATIONS BETWEEN YAKUTSK AND VERKHOYANSK 368IV. YAKUTE SETTLEMENTS BETWEEN VERKHOYANSK AND SREDNI-KOLYMSK 370V. SETTLEMENTS ON KOLYMA RIVER BETWEEN SREDNI-KOLYMSK AND NIJNI-KOLYMSK 372VI. A SHORT GLOSSARY OF YAKUTE WORDS 373VII. GLOSSARY OF VARIOUS DIALECTS IN USE AMONGST THE TCHUKTCHIS INHABITING THE COASTS OF N. E. SIBERIA 375VIII. METEOROLOGICAL RECORD OF THE DE WINDT EXPEDITION 377

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

HARRY DE WINDT FrontispiecePOOR YAKUTES Facing page 64THE CHIEF OF POLICE, VERKHOYANSK 97A VISITOR 128CAPE DESPAIR 193TENESKIN'S DAUGHTERS 224ESKIMO GIRLS 289CONSTRUCTING THE WHITE PASS RAILWAY 320

[Illustration]

PARIS TO NEW YORK BY LAND

PART I

EUROPE AND ASIA

CHAPTER I

THROUGH EUROPE. THE TRANS-SIBERIAN RAILWAY. 

The success of my recent land expedition from Paris to New York islargely due to the fact that I had previously essayed the feat in 1896and failed, for the experience gained on that journey was well worth theprice I paid for it. On that occasion I attempted the voyage in anopposite direction--viz. , from America to France, but only half thedistance was covered. Alaska was then almost unexplored and the nowpopulous Klondike region only sparsely peopled by poverty-stricken andunfriendly Indians. After many dangers and difficulties, Alaska wascrossed in safety, and we managed to reach the Siberian shores of BeringStraits only to meet with dire disaster at the hands of the natives ofthat coast. For no sooner had the American revenue cutter which landedus steamed away than our stores were seized by the villainous chief ofthe village (one Koari), who informed us that we were virtually hisprisoners, and that the dog-sleds which, during the presence of theGovernment vessel, he had glibly promised to furnish, existed only inthis old rascal's fertile imagination. The situation was, to say theleast, unpleasant, for the summer was far advanced and the ice alreadygathering in Bering Straits. Most of the whalers had left the Arctic forthe southward, and our rescue seemed almost impossible until thefollowing year. When a month here had passed away, harsh treatment anddisgusting food had reduced us to a condition of hopeless despair. I wasattacked by scurvy and a painful skin disease, while Harding, mycompanion, contracted a complaint peculiar to the Tchuktchis, which hasto this day baffled the wisest London and Paris physicians. Fortunatelywe possessed a small silk Union Jack, which was nailed to an old whalerib on the beach (for there was no wood), much to the amusement of thenatives. But the laugh was on our side when, the very next morning, asail appeared on the horizon. Nearer and nearer came the vessel, scudding close-reefed before a gale which had raised a mountainous sea. Would they see our signal? Would the skipper dare to lay-to in suchtempestuous weather, hemmed in as he was by the treacherous ice? Had weknown, however, at the time that the staunch little _Belvedere_ wascommanded by the late Capt. Joseph Whiteside, of New Bedford, we shouldhave been spared many moments, which seemed hours, of intense anxiety. Without a thought of his own safety, or a valuable cargo of whalesrepresenting many thousands of pounds, this gallant sailor stood boldlyin shore, launched a boat, which, after a scuffle with the natives and ascramble over floating ice, we managed to reach, and hauled us aboardthe little whaler, more dead than alive. A month later we were in SanFrancisco, far from the fair French city we had hoped to reach, butsincerely grateful for our preservation. For twenty-four hours after ourrescue no ship could have neared that ice-bound coast, and we couldscarcely have survived, amidst such surroundings, until the followingspring. 

A glance at a map will show the route which I had intended to pursue in1896, although, as this land journey has never before been accomplished(or even attempted), I was unable to benefit by the experience ofprevious explorers. From New York we travelled to Vancouver, thenceacross the now famous Chilkoot Pass to the Great Lakes and down theYukon River to the sea, crossing Bering Straits in an American revenuecutter to the Siberian settlement of melancholy memory. From here Ihoped to reach the nearest Russian outpost, Anadyrsk, by dog-sled, proceeding thence along the western shores of the Okhotsk Sea to Okhotskand Yakutsk. The latter is within a couple of thousand miles ofcivilisation, a comparatively easy stage in this land of stupendousdistances. Had I been able on this occasion to reach Anadyrsk, I could, all being well, have pushed on to Yakutsk, for Cossacks carry a mail, once a year, between the two places. But the connecting link betweenthat miserable Tchuktchi village and Anadyrsk was missing, and so we hadto submit to the will of fate. 

Follow now on a map my itinerary upon the last occasion, starting fromParis to Moscow, and continuing from Moscow to Irkutsk by theTrans-Siberian Railway. Here we strike in a north-easterly direction toYakutsk by means of horse-sleighs. Reindeer-sleighs are procured atYakutsk, and we then steer a north-westerly course to Verkhoyansk. FromVerkhoyansk we again proceed (still with reindeer) in a north-easterlydirection to the tiny political settlement of Sredni-Kolymsk, where wediscard our deer (for there is no more moss) and take to dog-sleds. Ajourney of nearly two months, travelling almost due east, brings us toEast Cape Bering Straits, the north-easternmost point of Asia, andpractically half way from Paris to our destination. 

From here the journey is fairly easy, for the beaten tracks of Alaskanow entail no great hardships. Remote Eskimo settlements like that atCape Prince of Wales are naturally as primitive as those on the Siberianside, but once Nome City is reached, the traveller may proceed (insummer) to New York solely by the aid of steam. 

I shall not weary the reader with details of my preparations. Suffice itto say that, although the minutest care and attention were lavished onthe organisation of our food-supply, lack of transport in the Far Northcompelled me to abandon most of our provisions and trust to luck for ourlarder, which was therefore frequently very meagrely stocked. Indeed, more than once we were within measurable distance of starvation, butthis was the more unavoidable in so far as, even at Moscow, I wascompelled to abandon several cases of provisions on account of atelegram received from the Governor-General of Siberia. The messageinformed me that reindeer were scarce, dogs yet more so, and that, unless the expedition travelled _very_ light, it could not possibly hopeto reach even the shores of the Arctic Ocean, to say nothing of BeringStraits. Nevertheless, even at the outset of the journey I was blamed, and that by totally inexperienced persons, for abandoning stores soearly in the day; a certain British merchant in Moscow expressingsurprise that I should have "made such an egregious error" as to leaveany provisions behind. I fancy most explorers have met this type ofindividual--the self-complacent Briton, who, being located for businessor other purposes in a foreign or colonial city, never leaves it, andyet poses as an authority on the entire country, however vast, in whichhe temporarily resides. I can recall one of these immovable fixtures inIndia, who had never stirred from Bombay save in a P. And O. Liner, butwho was good enough to advise me how to travel through CentralBaluchistan, a country which I had recently explored with some success!The Moscow wiseacre was perhaps unaware that during hard seasons inArctic Siberia the outfit of an expedition must be strictly limited tothe carrying capacity of dogs and reindeer. However, this gentleman'signorance was perhaps excusable, seeing that his experience of Russiantravel had been solely gleaned in a railway car between Moscow and theGerman frontier. I am told that the same individual severely criticisedme for not travelling through Siberia in summer, thereby avoiding thesevere hardships arising from intense cold. He was, of course, unawarethat during the open season the entire tract of country north-east ofYakutsk is practically impassable owing to thousands of square miles ofswamp and hundreds of shallow lakes which can only be crossed in afrozen condition on a dog-sled. Even the natives of these regions neverattempt to travel between the months of May and September. 

Paris is my home, and I am not ashamed to own that, like most Parisians, I suffer, when abroad, from a nostalgia of the Boulevards that atraveller were perhaps better without. It was therefore as well that ourdeparture for New York took place on a dreary December day, when thebeautiful city lay listless and despondent, swept by a wintry gale andlashed by gusts of driving sleet. The sky was sunless, the desertedthoroughfares rivers of mud mournfully reflecting bars of electric lightfrom either side of the street. As my cab splashed wearily up the RueLafayette I thought that I had never seen such a picture of desolation. And yet it were better, perhaps, to remember Paris thus, than to yearnthrough the long Arctic night for the pleasant hours I had learned tolove so well here in leafy June. Bright days of sunshine and pleasure inand around the "Ville Lumière!" cool, starlit nights at Armenonville andSaint Cloud! Should I ever enjoy them again?

"The De Windt Expedition" left Paris on December 19, 1901. Preliminarynotices of the journey in the French Press had attracted considerablenotice in Paris, and a small crowd of journalists and others hadassembled at the Gare du Nord to wish us God-speed. We were three innumber--myself, the Vicomte de Clinchamp (a young Frenchman who acted asphotographer), and George Harding, my faithful companion on manyprevious expeditions. The "Nord Express" was on the point of departure, but a stirrup-cup was insisted upon by some of De Clinchamp'senthusiastic compatriots, and an adjournment was made to the Buffet, where good wishes were expressed for our safety and success. After ahearty farewell the train steamed out of the station amidst ringingcheers, which plainly told me that Paris as well as London containedtrue friends who would pray for our welfare in the frozen North andwelcome our safe return to "La Belle France. "

Moscow was reached three days later, and here commenced the first of aseries of minor but harassing delays which relentlessly pursued methroughout the Asiatic portion of the journey. While alighting from thetrain I was suddenly seized with such severe internal pains, accompaniedby faintness and nausea, that on arrival at the Slaviansky Bazar (thebest Hotel, by the way, in the place), I was carried to bed. The attackwas inexplicable. Harding, ever a pessimist, suggested appendicitis, anda physician was hastily summoned. The medicine-man gravely shook hishead: "You are very ill, " he said, and I did not dispute the fact. "Canit be appendicitis?" I asked anxiously. "Appendicitis, " replied theDoctor; "what is that? I never heard of the disease!"

Morning brought me some relief, and with a not unnatural distrust ofRussian medical methods, I resolved to return at once to Berlin andconsult Professor Bergmann. To abandon the journey was now out of thequestion, but our medicine-chest was up-to-date and I could at any rateask the famous surgeon how to treat the dread disease should it declareitself in the wilds of Siberia. The next morning saw me back in Berlin, and by midday my mind was at rest. I was suffering from a simple ruptureof long standing, but hitherto quiescent, which only required rest andproper treatment for at least a fortnight. "Then it must be in thetrain, " I said, explaining the situation and the priceless value oftime. So, after some discussion, I departed with the Professor's goodwishes, which, however, were conveyed with an ominous shake of the head. 

Two days later I arrived in Moscow, only to be confronted by anotherdifficulty: our rifles, revolvers and ammunition had been seized at theRussian frontier, and at least a fortnight must elapse before we couldobtain them. Moscow fortunately boasts of an excellent gun-maker, and Iwas able to replace our armoury with English weapons, though, of course, at a ruinous expense. But time was too precious to waste. We had now buta little over four months in which to reach Bering Straits, for by themiddle of May the bays and estuaries of the Arctic begin to break up, and open water might mean imprisonment (and worse) on these desolateshores throughout the entire summer. So I purchased revolvers, tworifles and a fowling-piece at about five times their usual cost, andhoped that our troubles were over, at least for the present. I shouldadd that the arms had left London six weeks previously, and that I wasfurnished with a special permit to introduce them into the country. ButRussian methods are peculiar, and fortunately unique, I was unawarebefore our departure of the fact that if a gun is consigned direct fromits English maker to a gunsmith in Russia it goes through without anytrouble whatsoever. Otherwise, it may take six months or more to reachits destination. 

The New Year was passed in Moscow, and a gloomy one it was. From anhistorical and picturesque point of view the city is intenselyinteresting, but otherwise it is a dull, dreary place. Russian cities, not excepting Petersburg, generally are, although the English novelistgenerally depicts them as oases of luxurious splendour, where love andNihilism meet one at every turn, and where palaces, diamonds and silversleigh-bells play an important part, to say nothing of that journalistictrump card, the Secret Police! I wish one of these imaginative scribescould spend a winter evening (as I have so often done) in a stuffy hotelreading-room, with a _Times_ five days old, wondering whether theRussians will ever provide a theatre sufficiently attractive to tempt astranger out of doors after nightfall. In summer it is less dismal;there are gardens and restaurants, dancing gipsies and HungarianTziganes, but even then the entertainment is generally so poor, and thesurroundings so tawdry, that one is glad to leave them at an early hourand go sadly to bed. 

The distance from Moscow to Irkutsk is a little under 4000 Englishmiles, the first-class fare a little over a hundred roubles (or about£12), which, considering the journey occupies nine days or more, isreasonable enough. There are, or were, two trains a week, --the "State"and Wagonlits expresses, which run alternately. The former is aGovernment train, inferior in every respect to the latter, which isquite as luxurious in its service and appointments as the trains run bythe same company in Europe. 

At 10 P. M. , on January 4, we left Moscow, in a blinding snowstorm, amild foretaste of the Arctic blizzards to come, which would beexperienced without the advantage of a warm and well-lit compartment toview them from. For this train was truly an ambulant palace of luxury. An excellent restaurant, a library, pianos, baths, and last, but notleast, a spacious and well-furnished compartment with every comfort, electric and otherwise (and without fellow travellers), rendered thisfirst "étape" of our great land journey one to recall in after days witha longing regret. But we had nearly a fortnight of pleasant travelbefore us and resolved to make the most of it. Fortunately the train wasnot crowded. Some cavalry officers bound for Manchuria, three or fourSiberian merchants and their families, and a few Tartars of the betterclass. The officers were capital fellows, full of life and gaiety(Russian officers generally are), the merchants and their women-folksociable and musically inclined. Nearly every one spoke French, and thetime passed pleasantly enough, for although the days were terriblymonotonous, evenings enlivened by music and cards, followed by cheerylittle suppers towards the small hours, almost atoned for their hours ofboredom. 

Nevertheless, I cannot recommend this railway journey, even as far asIrkutsk, to those on pleasure bent, for the Trans-Siberian is no touristline, notwithstanding the alluring advertisements which periodicallyappear during the holiday season. Climatically the journey is adelightful one in winter time, for Siberia is then at its best--not theSiberia of the English dramatist: howling blizzards, chained convicts, wolves and the knout, but a smiling land of promise and plenty evenunder its limitless mantle of snow. The landscape is dreary, of course, but most days you have the blue cloudless sky and dazzling sunshine, sooften sought in vain on the Riviera. At mid-day your sunlit compartmentis often too warm to be pleasant, when outside it is 10° below zero. Butthe air is too dry and bracing for discomfort, although the pleasantbreeze we are enjoying here will presently be torturing unhappy mortalsin London in the shape of a boisterous and biting east wind. On theother hand, the monotony after a time becomes almost unbearable. All daylong the eye rests vacantly upon a dreary white plain, alternating withgreen belts of woodland, while occasionally the train plunges into densedark pine forest only to emerge again upon the same eternal "plateau" ofsilence and snow. Now and again we pass a village, a brown blur on thelimitless white, rarely a town, a few wooden houses clustering around agreen dome and gilt crosses, but it is all very mournful anddepressing, especially to one fresh from Europe. This train has oneadvantage, there is no rattle or roar about it, as it steals like asilent ghost across the desolate steppes. As a cure for insomnia itwould be invaluable, and we therefore sleep a good deal, but most of theday is passed in the restaurant. Here the military element is generallyengrossed in an interminable game of _Vint_[1] (during the process ofwhich a Jew civilian is mercilessly rooked), but our piano is a godsendand most Russian women are born musicians. So after _déjeuner_ we jointhe fair sex, who beguile the hours with Glinka and Tchaikovsky untilthey can play and sing no more. By the way, no one ever knows the timeof day and no one particularly wants to. Petersburg time is keptthroughout the journey and the result is obvious. We occasionally findourselves lunching at breakfast time and dining when we should havesupped, but who cares? although in any other clime bottled beer at 8A. M. Might have unpleasant results. 

[Footnote 1: Russian whist. ]

The Ural Mountains (which are merely downs) are crossed. Here thestations are built with some attempt at coquetry, for the district teemswith mineral wealth, and in summer is much frequented by fashionablepleasure-seekers and invalids, for there are baths and waters in theneighbourhood. One station reminds me of Homburg or Wiesbaden with itsgay restaurant, flower-stall, and a little shop for the sale of trinketsin silver and malachite, and the precious stones found in thisregion--Alexandrites, garnets and amethysts. But beyond the Urals weare once more lost in the desolate plains across which the train crawlssoftly and silently at the rate of about ten miles an hour. I know ofonly one slower railway in the world, that from Jaffa to Jerusalem, where I have seen children leap on and off the car-steps of the trainwhile in motion, and the driver alight, without actually stopping hisengine, to gather wildflowers! We cross the great Obi and Yenisei riversover magnificent bridges of iron and Finnish granite, which costmillions of roubles to construct. Krasnoyarsk is passed by night, butits glittering array of electric lights suggests a city many times thesize of the tiny town I passed through in a _tarantass_ while travellingin 1887 from Pekin to Paris. So the days crawl wearily away. Passengerscome and passengers go, but this train, like the brook, goes on forever. Although the travelling was luxurious I can honestly say that thiswas the most wearisome portion of the entire journey. But all thingsmust have an end, even on the Trans-Siberian Railway, and on the tenthday out from Moscow we reach (unconsciously) our destination--Irkutsk. For it is two o'clock in the morning and we are aroused from pleasantdreams in a warm and cosy bed to embark upon a drive of about threemiles through wind and snow in an open _droshky_. But we are now inEastern Siberia, and comfort will soon be a thing of the past. 

CHAPTER II

THE PARIS OF SIBERIA

We arrived in Irkutsk on the eve of the Russian New Year, when businessthroughout the Empire comes to a standstill, and revelry amongst allclasses reigns supreme. It was, therefore, useless to think of resumingour journey for at least a week, for sleighs must be procured, to saynothing of that important document, a special letter of recommendation, which I was to receive from the Governor-General of Siberia. But aresplendent _aide-de-camp_ called at the hotel and regretfully informedme that State and social functions would keep his Excellency fullyoccupied for several days. It was hopeless, he added, to think ofgetting sleighs built while _vodka_ was running like water amongst thepeople. So there was nothing for it but to await the end of the festivalwith patience, without which commodity no traveller should ever dream ofvisiting Asiatic Russia. He is otherwise apt to become a raving lunatic. 

Irkutsk has several so-called hotels, the only one in any way habitablebeing the "Hotel Metropole, " a name which has become suggestive ofgold-laced porters and gilded halls. It was, therefore, rather a shockto enter a noisome den, suggestive of a Whitechapel slum, although itsprices equalled those of the Carlton in Pall Mall. The house was new butjerry-built, reeked of drains, and swarmed with vermin. Having kept usshivering for half an hour in the cold, a sleepy, shock-headed lad withguttering candle appeared and led the way to a dark and ill-smellingsleeping-apartment. The latter contained an iron bedstead (an unknownluxury here a decade ago), but relays of guests had evidently used thecrumpled sheets and grimy pillows. Bathroom and washstand were suppliedby a rusty brass tap, placed, _pro bono publico_, in the corridor. Ourmeals in the restaurant were inferior to those of a fifth-rate_gargotte_. And this was the best hotel in the "Paris of Siberia, " asenthusiastic Siberians have christened their capital. 

Irkutsk now has a population of over 80, 000. It stands on a peninsularformed by the confluence of two rivers, the clear and swiftly-flowingAngará (which rises in Lake Baikal to join the river Yenisei just belowYeniseisk), and the small and unimportant Irkut river. It is anunfinished, slipshod city, a strange mixture of squalor and grandeur, with tortuous, ill-paved streets, where the wayfarer looks instinctivelyfor the "No-thoroughfare" board. There is one long straggling mainstreet with fairly good shops and buildings, but beyond this Irkutskremains much the same dull, dreary-looking place that I remember in theearly nineties, before the railway had aroused the town from its slumberof centuries. Even now, the place is absolutely primitive anduncivilised, from an European point of view, and the yellow Chinese andbeady-eyed Tartars who throng the business quarters are quite in keepingwith the Oriental filth around, unredeemed by the usual Eastern colourand romance. On fine mornings the Market Place presents a curious andinteresting appearance, for here you may see the Celestial in flowerysilk elbowing the fur-clad Yakute and Bokhara shaking hands with Japan. The Irkutsk district is peopled by the Buriates, who originally camefrom Trans-Baikalia, but who have now become more Russianised than anyother Siberian race. The Buriat dialect is a kind of _patois_ composedof Mongolian and Chinese; the religion Buddhism. About every fourthBuriat becomes a Lama, and takes vows of celibacy. They are thrifty, industrious people, ordinarily of an honest, hospitable disposition, whonumber, perhaps, 300, 000 in all. This is probably the most civilisedaboriginal race in Siberia, and many Buriates now wear European dress, and are employed as Government officials. 

The climate of Irkutsk is fairly good; not nearly so cold in winter asmany places on the same latitude; the summers are pleasant and equable;but the fall of the year is generally unhealthy, dense fogs occasioninga good deal of pulmonary disease and rheumatism. The city, too, is soexecrably drained that severe epidemics occasionally occur during thesummer months, but in winter the dry cold air acts as a powerfuldisinfectant. In spring-time, when the river Angará is swollen by thebreak-up of the ice, inundations are frequent, and sometimes cause greatdestruction to life and property. Winter is, therefore, the pleasantestseason here, for during dry warm weather the clouds of black grittydust are unbearable, especially on windy days. Indeed, the dust here isalmost worse than in Pekin, where the natives say that it will work itsway through a watch-glass, no exaggeration, as I can, from personalexperience, testify. 

There was little enough to do here during our five days of enforcedinactivity, and time crawled away with exasperating slowness, the moreso that the waste of every hour was lessening our chance of success. Butalthough harassed myself by anxiety, I managed to conceal the fact fromde Clinchamp, whose Gallic nature was proof against _ennui_, and whomanaged to find friends and amusement even in this dismal city. Insummer we might have killed time by an excursion to Lake Baikal, [2] forI retain very pleasant recollections of a week passed, some years since, on the pine-clad margin of this the largest lake in Asia, sixty-sixtimes the area of the Lake of Geneva. Now its wintry shores and frozenwaters possessed no attraction, save, perhaps, the ice-breaker used bythe Trans-Siberian Railway to carry passengers across the lake, apassage of about twenty miles. But even the ice-breaker had met with anaccident, and was temporarily disabled. So there was literally nothingto do but to linger as long as possible over the midday meal in thedingy little restaurant, and then to stroll aimlessly up and down the"Bolshaya, " the main thoroughfare aforementioned, until dusk. This isthe fashionable drive of the city, which on bright days presented analmost animated appearance. There is no lack of money in Irkutsk, forgold-mining millionaires abound, and I generally spent the afternoonwatching the cavalcade of well-appointed sleighs dashing, with a merryclash of bells, up and down the crowded street, and sauntering amongstthe groups of well-dressed women and brilliant uniforms, until darknessdrove me back to our unsavoury quarters at the Metropole. My companionsgenerally patronised the skating rink, a sign of advancing civilisation, for ten years ago there was not a pair of skates to be found throughoutthe length and breadth of Siberia. Thus passed our days, and theevenings were even longer and more wearisome. Once we visited the Opera, a new and beautifully-decorated house, but the performance wasexecrable, and "La Dame de Chez Maxim" unrecognisable in Russian dress. There were also other so-called places of amusement, which blazed withelectric light from dusk till dawn, where refreshments were served atlittle wooden tables while painted harridans from Hamburg cackledsuggestive songs to the accompaniment of a cracked piano. In theseestablishments we used to see the local millionaires (and there aremany) taking their pleasure expensively, but sadly enough, amidstsurroundings that would disgrace a _dive_ in San Francisco. The companywas generally very mixed, soldiers and flashily-dressed _cocottes_ beingalone distinguishable, by their costume, from the rest of the audience. For although the Siberian woman of the better class has learnt of lateyears to dress well, wealth makes no difference to the garb of mankind. All of the latter have the same dirty, unkempt appearance; all wear thesame suit of shiny black, rusty high boots, and a shabby slouch-hat orpeaked cap. Furs alone denote the difference of station, sable or bluefox denoting the mercantile Crœsus, astrachan or sheep-skin his clerk. Otherwise all the men look (indoors) as though they had slept in theirclothes, which, by the way, is not improbable, for on one occasion Istayed with an Irkutsk Vanderbilt who lived in palatial style. His housewas a dream of beauty and millions had been lavished on itsornamentation. Priceless pictures and _objets d'art_, a Paris _chef_, horses and carriages from London, and covered gardens of rare orchidsand exotics. No expense had been spared to render life luxurious in thisland of dirt and discomfort. Even my host's bedroom was daintilyfurnished, _à la_ Louis XV. , by a French upholsterer. And yet he sleptevery night, fully dressed, on three chairs! There is no accounting fortastes--in Siberia!

[Footnote 2: "Lake Baikal is about twenty miles from Irkutsk. It is 420miles in length, its breadth varying from ten to sixty miles. Itsaverage depth is rarely less than 819 ft. , but in parts the ground hasbeen touched only at 4500 ft. The natives believe it to beunfathomable. "--"Side Lights on Siberia, " by J.  Y. Simpson. ]

Although the "Bolshaya, " in which most of the _café chantants_ aresituated, is bright with electric light, the back streets of the cityare lit by flickering oil-lamps, and here the stranger must almost gropehis way about after dark. If wise he will stay at home, for robbery andeven murder are of frequent occurrence. A large proportion of thepopulation here consists of time-expired convicts, many of whom hauntthe night-houses in quest of prey. During our short stay a woman wasmurdered one night within a few yards of our hotel, and a man wasstabbed to death in broad daylight on the busy "Bolshaya. " The Chief ofPolice told me that there is an average of a murder a day every yearwithin the precincts of the city, and warned us not to walk out unarmedafter dark. There was no incentive to drive, for the Irkutsk cab, or_droshky_, is a terrible machine, something like a hoodless bath-chair, springless, and constructed to hold two persons (at a pinch) besides thedriver. There is no guard-rail, and it was sometimes no easy matter tocling on as the vehicle bumped and bounded, generally at full gallop, along the rough, uneven streets. 

Three days elapsed before the business of the city was resumed and I wasable to turn my attention to the purchase of sleighs. Fur coats and feltboots we were already provided with, but I had determined to obtain theArctic kit destined to protect us from the intense cold north of Yakutskfrom the fur merchants of that place. Finally, when the fumes of _vodka_had evaporated, at least a dozen sleigh-builders invaded my bedroomearly one morning, for the Irkutsk papers had published our needs. Thewhole day was passed in driving about to the various workshops andexamining sleighs, some of which appeared to have been constructed aboutthe same period as the Ark. It was not easy to make a selection from thescore of ramshackle _kibitkas_ which were hauled out for my inspection, especially as I had a very faint notion of the kind of sleigh requiredfor the work in hand. Fortunately, my friend the Chief of Police, whitewith rage and blazing with orders, burst into a yard as I wasconcluding the purchase of a venerable vehicle, which bore a strikingresemblance to Napoleon's travelling carriage at Madame Tussaud's, andwhich would probably have come to pieces during the first stage. 

"Son of a dog, " furiously cried the official to the tremblingcoach-builder, "don't you know that this gentleman wishes to go toYakutsk, and you are trying to swindle him into buying a 'Bolshaya'_coupé_!" And in less than a minute I was being whirled away towards thePolice Station, where a number of the peculiar sleighs required for thisjourney are kept on hand for the convenience of travellers. 

"That man is an infernal scoundrel, " said the Chief of Police, when toldthat Napoleon's _barouche_ was to have cost me 150 roubles. "I will giveyou a couple of good Yakute sleighs for half the money. You can only usethem on the Lena. " And when I saw the primitive contrivances in questionI no longer marvelled at their low price. 

Let me describe the comfortless conveyance in which we accomplished thefirst two thousand miles of the journey across Siberia. A Yakute sleighhas a pair of runners, but otherwise totally differs from any othersleigh in the wide world. Imagine a sack of coarse matting about fourfeet deep suspended from a frame of rough wooden poles in a horizontaltriangle, which also forms a seat for the driver. Into this bag thetraveller first lowers his luggage, then his mattress, pillows, andfurs, and finally enters himself, lying at full length upon hisbelongings. There is a thick felt apron which can be pulled completelyover its occupant at night-time or in stormy weather. This sounds warmand comfortable, but is precisely the reverse, for after a few hours theporous felt becomes saturated with moisture (formed by bodily warmth andexternal cold), rendering the traveller's heavy garments damp and chillyfor the remainder of the journey. There is nothing to prevent the_Koshma_, as this covering is called (_Cauchemar_ would be a bettername!), from resting upon the face during sleep, and frost-bittenfeatures are the natural result. So far, therefore, as comfort isconcerned a Yakute sleigh is capable of some improvement, for, even infine weather, the occupant must raise himself up on his elbows to seeanything but the sky above him, while in storms the damp, heavy coveringcasts him into outer darkness. Under the most favourable circumstanceslittle is seen of the country travelled through, but, as the Chief ofPolice consolingly remarked, "Between here and Yakutsk there is nothingto see!"

Provisions were the next consideration, and these were obtained from awell-appointed store on the "Bolshaya. " We now had but a dozen cases ofcondensed foods, &c. , left, and these I wished to keep intact, ifpossible, for use in the Arctic regions. On the Lena road thepost-houses were only from thirty to forty miles apart, but as they onlyprovide hot water and black bread for the use of travellers, I laid in agood supply of canned meats, sardines, and tea to carry us comfortably, at any rate, through the first stage of the journey. With months ofdesolation before us our English tobacco was too precious to smoke incivilisation, so a few hundred Russian cigarettes were added to thelist. 

At last came the welcome news that the Governor-General would grant usan interview. Accompanied by an _aide-de-camp_, we drove to the Palaceon the banks of the Angará, and were ushered into the presence of theTsar's Viceroy, who governs a district about the size of Europe. GeneralPanteleyéff was a middle-aged man, with white moustache, light blueeyes, and a spare athletic figure, displayed to advantage by a smartdark green uniform. The General is a personal friend of the Emperor, andthe cross of St. Andrew and a tunic covered with various orders borewitness to their wearer's distinguished career. He received me mostcordially, and asked many questions regarding the land-journey, whichhad apparently aroused considerable interest in Russian officialcircles. The General, however, had no great faith in the proposed lineto connect his country with the New World. 

"We have our hands too full in the Far East for the next century, " hesaid, with a smile, "to meddle with Arctic railways. "

His Excellency assured me of every assistance as far as Nijni-Kolymsk, the most remote Cossack outpost on the shores of the Polar Sea, onordinary occasions a year's journey from St. Petersburg. "BeyondKolymsk, " he added, "I fear I cannot help you. The Tchuktchi region isnominally under my control, but even our own officials rarely venturefor any distance into that desolate country. But you will first have toreach Nijni-Kolymsk, and even that is a voyage that few Russians wouldcare to undertake; and beyond Nijni-Kolymsk you will have yet anothertwo thousand miles to Bering Straits. Great Heavens! what a terriblejourney! But you English are a wonderful people!" Here a secretaryentered the apartment with a document, which the Governor rapidlyscanned and then signed. 

"Your Imperial passport, " he said, placing the paper in my hand, "whichwill ensure civility and assistance from all officials you may meet asfar as the Kolyma river. Beyond that you must rely upon yourselves andthe goodwill of the natives, if you ever find them! May God preserve youall. "

So saying, with a hearty shake of the hand, the General touched a bell, the _aide-de-camp_ appeared, and I was re-conducted to my sleigh, rejoicing that nothing could now retard our departure. Amongst otherprivileges the passport ensured immediate relays of horses at thepost-stations. As there are no less than one hundred and twenty-two ofthese (from fifteen to twenty-five miles apart) between Irkutsk andYakutsk, and as the ordinary traveller is invariably delayed byextortionate postmasters, this clause was of the utmost importance. Inmany other ways also the document was a priceless one, and without it wecould scarcely have reached the shores of America. 

It may be that I have unduly underrated the attractions of Irkutsk tothe average public. If so, the reader must remember that every hour ofdelay here was of importance and meant endless worry and vexation to theleader of an expedition which had not an hour to lose. There is no doubtthat Irkutsk must in a few years become a teeming centre of commercialactivity. The social aspects of the place will then no doubt improveunder the higher civilisation introduced by a foreign element. Theresources of this province are limitless, for the soil has up till now, minerally speaking, only been scratched by idle fingers. Further afieldwe hear of important discoveries of valuable minerals in Manchuria, while the output of gold in the Lena district has been trebled by modernmachinery within the past four years. Coal has also been recentlydiscovered within a short distance of Lake Baikal, and is already beingexported in large quantities to the Pacific ports. Irkutsk has, nodoubt, a great commercial future, but should I ever return there Ishall, personally speaking, be quite satisfied to find a decent hotel. Such an establishment run on modern lines would certainly yield fabulousreturns. At present the only available restaurant is that of the grimyand verminous Metropole, and even here the local millionaires cheerfullypay prices for atrocious food and worse wines which would open the eyesof a Ritz. 

Perhaps the most pleasant memory which I retain of Irkutsk is a cheerylittle supper which was given in our honour by a Mr. Koenigswerther andhis wife and brother on the eve of our departure. The travellers, whohad only arrived that day, were visiting the city on business connectedwith the purchase of furs, and a chance word dropped in the purestFrench by Madame at the dinner-table linked our parties inseparably forthe remainder of the evening; indeed, until the next day. MadameKoenigswerther, an attractive little _Parisienne_, seemed to cast agleam of sunshine over the gloomy dining-room in which we had partakenof so many melancholy meals. The trip here from Paris had already imbuedher with a passion for further exploration, and I verily believe thatshe would have accompanied the expedition to Yakutsk if not restrainedby her less enthusiastic male companions. Bed on such an occasion wasnot to be thought of, so we visited the theatre and _café chantants_, ending the evening with a supper at the Metropole (previously ordered bythe fur merchants) which proved that money, even in Irkutsk, willconvert a culinary bungler into a very passable _chef_. Our departurefor the North took place very early on the morning of January 19, and Ihave since heard that nothing would induce our merry little hostess toseek her couch until the tingle of our sleigh bells had died out on thefrosty air. 

"A New York!" she cried, as our horses sprang into their collars anddashed away down the frosty, silent street. 

"N'ayéz pas peur! Nous arriverons, " answered de Clinchamp, with a coolassurance which at the time excited my envy, if not admiration!

CHAPTER III

THE GREAT LENA POST-ROAD

The distance from Irkutsk to Yakutsk is about 2000 English miles, butthe post-road by which we travelled during the first stage of theoverland journey is, properly speaking, no road at all. After leavingIrkutsk the traveller crosses about 150 miles of well-wooded country, until the upper waters of the Lena river are reached. [3] In winter timethe frozen surface of the latter connects the two cities, and there isno other way by land. A double row of pine branches stuck into the snowat short intervals indicate the track, and this is a necessaryprecaution, as the hot springs of the Upper Lena frequently render theice treacherous and unsafe. A sharp look-out is, therefore, kept allalong the line for overflows, and, when necessary, the road is shiftedto avoid them, but notwithstanding these precautions, darkness anddrunken drivers often cause fatal accidents. In summer time Yakutsk maybe reached by small steamers plying from Ust-kutsk, on the Lena, about250 miles by road from Irkutsk. The trip takes about a fortnight downstream, and three weeks in the reverse direction, but sand-barsfrequently cause delays, rendered the more irksome by pooraccommodation, stifling heat, and clouds of mosquitoes. [4]

[Footnote 3: The Lena river has an estimated length of not less than3000 miles. It rises in the Baikal mountains and flows north and eastpast the towns of Kirensk, Vitimsk, and Olekminsk to Yakutsk, thence itturns to the north-west and enters the Arctic Ocean, forming a widedelta. The Lena receives several large tributaries, viz. , the Vitim, about 1400, the Olekma, about 800, and the Aldan, about 1300 mileslong. ]

[Footnote 4: This must be very slow travelling, for Dobell, thetraveller, writes: "When I descended the Lena from Ust-kutsk in thespring of 1816, I was only fourteen days going to Yakutsk in a largeflat-bottomed boat. "]

Most people in England have a very vague idea of the size of Siberia. Itis only by actually visiting the country that one can grasp theharassing difficulties due to appalling distances and primitive modes oflocomotion, especially when the traveller is bound for the Far North. Iwill, therefore, endeavour to convey to the reader, as briefly aspossible, the area of this land of illimitable space, and cannot do sobetter than by quoting the graphic description given by the Americanexplorer, Mr. George Kennan. [5] He says: "You can take the whole of theUnited States of America, from Maine to California and from LakeSuperior to the Gulf of Mexico, and set it down in the middle of Siberiawithout touching anywhere the boundaries of the latter's territory; youcan then take Alaska and all the countries of Europe, with the exceptionof Russia, and fit them into the remaining margin like the pieces of adissected map. After having thus accommodated all of the United States, including Alaska, and the whole of Europe, except Russia, you willstill have more than 300, 000 miles of Siberian territory to spare. Inother words, you will still have unoccupied in Siberia an area half aslarge again as the Empire of Germany. " According to the census of 1897the entire population of Siberia is little more than that of the Englishmetropolis. 

[Footnote 5: "Siberia and the Exile System, " by George Kennan. ]

A couple of Yakute sleighs sufficed for ourselves and entire outfit. Irode with de Clinchamp in the leading vehicle, while Harding and thebulk of the stores followed in the other. At first sight, the Yakutesleigh appears to be a clumsy but comfortable contrivance, but very fewmiles had been covered before I discovered its unlimited powers ofinflicting pain. For this machine does not glide like a well-behavedsleigh, but advances by leaps and bounds that strain every nerve andmuscle in the body. In anything like deep, soft snow it generally comesto a standstill, and the combined efforts of men and horses are requiredto set it going again. However, for the first three or four days, goodprogress was made at the rate of about 200 versts[6] in the twenty-fourhours, for we travelled night and day. There was no incentive to passthe night in the post-houses, which were generally of a filthydescription, although luxurious compared to the Yakute Yurtas andTchuktchi huts awaiting us up North. On the Lena post-road, stages wereonly from fifteen to thirty miles apart, and with a fresh _troika_(three horses harnessed abreast) at such short intervals, our rate ofspeed for the first week was very satisfactory. Between Irkutsk and theriver Lena part of the road lies through dense forests, which aregenerally infested with runaway convicts, so we kept a sharp look-outand revolvers handy. Only a week before we passed through this region amail-cart had been held up and its driver murdered, but I fancy news hadfiltered through that my expedition was well armed, and we thereforereached the Lena unmolested. 

[Footnote 6: A verst is two-thirds of an English mile. ]

The weather at Irkutsk had been comparatively warm, and we were, therefore, unprepared for the intense cold experienced only forty-eighthours after our departure. Although on the evening of the 19th thethermometer had registered only 10° below zero Fahrenheit, it suddenlysank during the night to 65° below zero, where it remained until thefollowing evening. Oddly enough, a dense mist accompanied the fall ofthe mercury, rendering the cold infinitely harder to bear. Our driversdeclared that this climatic occurrence was most unusual, and the factremains that this was the lowest temperature recorded during the entirejourney south of the Yakute Yurta of Yuk-Takh, several hundred milesnorth of Yakutsk. There we had to face 75° below zero, but then Yuk-Takhadjoins Verkhoyansk, the coldest place in the world. But the dry frostyair of even this remote settlement inconvenienced me far less than thechilly breeze of a raw November day on the Paris Boulevards with themercury half a dozen degrees above the freezing-point. On the Lena thisArctic cold only lasted for about eighteen hours, and then slowly roseagain, after remaining at about 50° below zero for a couple of days. Theseverest cold afterwards experienced south of Yakutsk was 51° belowzero, and that only upon one occasion. Otherwise it varied from 2°above to 40° below zero, but even that was sufficient to convert ourprovisions into a granite-like consistency, and at first wearisomedelays were occasioned at the post-stations by the thawing out ofpetrified sardines and tinned soup converted into solid ice. Milk, frozen and cut into cubes, was conveniently carried in a net attached tothe sleigh, and this, with tea, was our sole beverage. For a case with afew bottles of Crimean claret, which we had taken to enliven the firstportion of the journey, was found when broached to contain nothing butfragments of red ice and broken glass. Even some cognac (for medicinalpurposes) was partly frozen in its flask. On the same day de Clinchamp, removing his mits to take a photograph, accidentally touched some metalon the camera, and his fingers were seared as though with a red-hotiron. Perhaps our greatest annoyance on this voyage was the frequentdeprivation of tobacco, that heavenly solace on long and tryingjourneys. For at even 40° below zero nicotine blocks the pipe-stem, andcigar or cigarette freezes firmly to the lips. The moustache also formsa mask of solid ice, and becomes an instrument of torture, so much sothat on the third day out on the Lena ours were mercilessly clipped. 

The post-houses on this road are, as I have said, luxurious as comparedto the accommodation found among the Arctic races of Siberia, but Ifancy those accustomed to "roughing it, " as the word is generallyunderstood in England, would find even a trip as far as Yakutsk rather atrial. Of course, these establishments vary from the best, which areabout on a par with the labourer's cottage in England, to the worst, which can only be described as dens of filth and squalor. All are builton the same plan. There is one guest-room, a bare carpetless apartment, with a rough wooden bench, a table, and two straight-backed woodenchairs, and the room is heated to suffocation by a huge stove, whichoccupies a corner of the room. The flimsy plank partition is unpapered, but generally plastered with the cheap, crudely coloured prints sold bypedlars. Some of these depicted events connected with our recent war inSouth Africa, and it is needless to add that the English troops wereinvariably depicted in the act of ignominious flight. [7] I purchasedone, in which three distinguished British Generals were portrayed upontheir knees imploring mercy of Mr. Kruger, and sent it to England, butit never reached its destination. This work of art had been "made inGermany. "

[Footnote 7: I was surprised by the interest displayed by the Russiansettlers of this district anent the Boer War. In every village we wereeagerly questioned as to how affairs in the Transvaal were progressing. ]

In every guest-room, however squalid, four objects were never missing:the sacred Ikon, portraits of the Tsar and Tsarina, and a printed copyof the posting rules. On the wall was generally also a bill of fare, infaded ink, which showed how many generations of travellers must havebeen duped by its tempting list of savoury dishes. I never couldascertain whether these had ever really existed in the far distant past, or whether the notice was a poor joke on the part of the proprietor. Inany case, the _menu_ we found was always the same: hot water, sourblack bread, and (very rarely) eggs of venerable exterior, for althoughthe inmates of these stations presumably indulge occasionally in meat, no amount of bribery would induce them to produce it for our benefit. Vermin was everywhere; night and day it crawled gaily over the walls andceiling, about our bodies, and into our very food, and, although thesubject did not interest us, a naturalist would have delighted in theever-changing varieties of insect life. Of the latter, cockroaches were, I think, the most objectionable, for they can inflict a nasty poisonousbite. Oddly enough, throughout Siberia I never saw a rat, although miceseem to swarm in every building, old or new, which we entered. The Lenapost-house has a characteristic odour of unwashed humanity, oldsheep-skins and stale tobacco. Occasionally, this subtle blend includesa whiff of the cow-shed, which generally means that one or more of itsyouthful occupants have been carried indoors out of the cold. In winterthere is no ventilation whatsoever, save when the heavy felt-lined dooris opened and an icy blast rushes in to be instantly converted by thestifling heat into a dense mass of steam. Indoors it was seldom under80° Fahrenheit, and although divested of heavy furs we would invariablyawaken from a sleep of, perhaps, a couple of hours, drenched withperspiration, in which state we would once more face the pitiless cold. In England such extremes of temperature, experienced day after day, would probably kill the strongest man outright, but here they made noappreciable difference in our bodily health. 

It was no doubt rough travelling along the Lena, and yet the pleasuresof the journey far outweighed its ills. Before reaching the river ourway lay across vast deserts of snow, with no objects visible save, atrare intervals, some tiny village almost buried in the drifts, its darkroofs peeping out here and there, and appearing at a distance likepieces of charcoal laid on a piece of white cotton-wool. Beyond thesenothing but the single telegraph wire which connects Yakutsk withcivilisation. Coated with rime it used to stand out like a jewelledthread against the dazzling sky, which merged imperceptibly from darkestsapphire overhead to tenderest turquoise on the horizon. Who candescribe the delights of a sleigh journey under such conditions, orrealise, in imagination, the charm and novelty of a wild gallop overleagues of snow behind game little Siberian horses, tearing along to theclash of yoke-bells at the rate of twenty miles an hour! In anything buta Yakute sleigh we should have been in an earthly paradise. 

And on fine evenings, pleasanter still was it to lie in the sleighsnugly wrapped in furs, and watch the inky sky powdered with stars--UrsaMajor (now almost overhead) sprawling its glittering shape across theheavens, and the little Pleiades twinkling like a diamond spray againstdark velvet. At times I could make out every lonely peak and valley inthe lunar world, and even distinguish far-away Polaris twinkling dimlyover the earth's great mystery. The stars are never really seen in mistyEurope. 

But a week, ten days, elapses and so little progress is made in thealarming total of mileage that the heart sinks at the mere thought ofthe stupendous distance before us. Few villages are passed and theseare invariably alike. A row of ramshackle huts; at one extremity thepost-house with black and white _verst_ post, at the other a roughpalisade of logs about twenty feet high, enclosing a space from which agrey column of smoke rises lazily into the frosty air. The building isinvisible, but it generally contains one or more unhappy exiles wendingslowly towards a place of exile. Every village between Irkutsk andYakutsk has its _Balogan_, or resting-place for political offenders, butin the Far North beyond the Arctic Circle prison bars becomesuperfluous. Nature has taken their place. 

There can be no doubt that, for monotony, this journey is unequalled. After a few days surrounding objects seemed to float by in a vaguedream. Only the "scroop" of the runners and jingle of the sleigh-bellsseemed to be hammered into the brain, for all eternity. And yet, eventhe bells in their own way were a godsend, for they were changed (withthe yoke) at every station, and I liked to think that every one of thehundred and twenty-two stages were accompanied by a different tune!There were other drawbacks to complete enjoyment. On the whole, theweather was still and clear, but occasionally the sky would darken, downwould come the snow, and we would flounder about, sometimes for hours, lost in the drifts. Logs frozen into the river, fissures in the ice, andother causes rendered upsets of almost daily occurrence, but it wasgenerally soft falling. I remarked that as we proceeded further norththe post-horses became wilder and more unmanageable, and it was oftenmore than the drivers could do to hold them. Twice our sleigh was runaway with, and once de Clinchamp and myself were thrown with unpleasantforce on to hard black ice. On another occasion the _troika_ started offwhile the driver was altering the harness, and went like the wind beforewe could clamber on to the box, seize the reins, and stop them. Theunfortunate _yemstchik_[8] was dragged with them, and I expected to findthe poor fellow a mangled corpse, but we pulled him out from under histeam badly cut and bruised, but otherwise little the worse for theaccident. He had clung like grim death to the pole, or the heavy sleighmust have crushed him. 

[Footnote 8: Driver. ]

During daylight we could afford to laugh at such trifles, but at nighttime it was a different matter. To tear through the darkness at abreakneck pace at the mercy of three wild, unbroken horses required somenerve, especially when lying under the _koshma_ as helpless as a sardinein a soldered tin. For the first few days overflows were a constantmenace, especially at night when sleep under the apron was out of thequestion, for any moment might mean a plunge through the ice into thecold dark waters of the Lena. I generally had a clasp-knife ready toslash asunder, at a moment's notice, the ropes which secured the apronto the sleigh. After a time I could lie in the dark and tell withunerring precision whether the sleigh was gliding over the river or theland, and whether, in the former case, the ice was black and sound orthat dread element, water, was rippling against the runners. If so, outcame the clasp-knife, and there was no more _koshma_ for that night. During the first week we frequently passed places where hot springs hadbroken through the ice. One or two of these holes were quite near thetrack, and might well, on a dark night, have brought the expedition toan untimely end. 

Talking of ice, we noticed a curious phenomenon in connection with itwhile journeying down the Lena. On clear sunny days the frozen surfaceof the river would appear to be sloping downwards at a perceptiblegradient in the direction in which we were travelling; occasionally itwould almost seem as though we were descending a fairly steep hill, hadnot the unrelaxed efforts of our teams suggested the optical delusionwhich, as long ago as 1828, was observed by Erman the explorer, whowrote: "I am disposed to think that this phenomenon was connected withthe glistening and distortion of distant objects which I remarked notonly in this part of the valley, but frequently also on the followingdays. This proved that the air was ascending from the ice and thereforethat the lower strata were lighter than those above in which the eye wasplaced. Under such circumstances a plane perfectly horizontal and levelin fact would appear depressed towards the horizon, or, in other words, it would seem to slope downwards. " Scientists must determine whetherthis be the correct explanation of this strange deception of nature, which was often noticeable on the Lena, although we never observed itelsewhere. 

We reached Ust-kutsk (the first town of any importance) on the sixthday. This place figures largely on most English maps, but it is littlemore than an overgrown village. A church with apple-green dome and giltcrosses, a score of neat houses clustered around the dwelling of an_ispravnik_, [9] perhaps a couple of stores for the sale of clothing andprovisions, and a cleaner post-house than usual: such is a "town" on thebanks of the Lena. With the exception of Ust-kutsk there are only three, Kirensk, Vitimsk, and Olekminsk, places of such little general interestthat they are chiefly associated in my mind with the four square mealswe were able to obtain during those three weeks of incessant travel. AtUst-kutsk, for instance, we refreshed the inner man with a steaming bowlof _schtchi_ or cabbage soup followed by the tough and greasy chunks ofmeat that had been boiled in it, and the meal tasted delicious afternearly a week on black bread, an occasional salt fish and dubious eggs. Our own provisions were so hopelessly frozen that we seldom wasted thetime necessary to thaw them out into an eatable condition. 

[Footnote 9: An official who combines the duties of Mayor and Chief ofPolice. ]

There are salt-mines near Ust-kutsk from which about 50, 000 _poods_[10]are annually exported throughout the Lena province, and the forestsaround here contain valuable timber, but agriculture did not seem soprosperous here as in the districts to the north and south. Oddly enoughthe cultivation of the land seemed to improve as we progressednorthward, as far as Yakutsk, where, as the reader will presently see, the most modern methods of farming have been successfully adopted by avery peculiar and interesting class of people. 

[Footnote 10: A "pood" is thirty-six English pounds. ]

I was told that during the navigation season, from June until the latterend of September, Ust-kutsk is a busy place on account of the weeklyarrival and departure of the river steamers. But lying silent and stillin the icy grip of winter, this appeared to me to be the most desolatespot I had ever set eyes upon. And we left it without regret, notwithstanding that a darkening sky and threatening snow-flakesaccompanied our departure, and the cold and hunger of the past few dayshad considerably lowered the high spirits in which we had left Irkutsk. Up till now monotony had been the worst evil to bear. In summer time theriver as far as Yakutsk is highly cultivated, and smiling villages andfertile fields can be discerned from the deck of a steamer, but inwinter, from a sleigh, nothing is visible day after day, week afterweek, but an unvarying procession of lime-stone, pine-clad cliffs, whichcompletely shut out any scenery which may lie beyond them, and betweenwhich the bleak and frozen flood lies as inert and motionless as acorpse. Even at Ust-kutsk, nearly 3000 miles from the Arctic Ocean, thestream is as broad as an arm of the sea, which enhances the generalimpression of gloom and desolation. But in this world everything iscomparative, and we little dreamt, when reviling the Lena, that a timewas coming when we should look back even upon this apparently earthlyErebus as a whirlpool of gaiety. 

When we left Ust-kutsk at about 3 P. M. Night was falling fast, aproceeding which scattered snow-flakes followed with such vigour thatonly a few _versts_ had been covered when we were brought to astandstill by a dense snowstorm, which, with a northerly gale, rapidlyassumed the proportions of a blizzard. Providence has mercifullyordained that a high wind seldom, if ever, accompanies a very lowtemperature or on this occasion (and many others) we should have faredbadly. But here and in the Arctic a fall of the glass was invariablyaccompanied by a rise of the thermometer, and _vice versâ_. During this, our first storm, it was only eight degrees below zero, and even then itwas impossible to face the wind for more than a few moments at a time, for it penetrated our heavy fur coats as though they had been of_crêpe-de-chine_, and cut into the face like the lash of acat-o'-nine-tails. I had never experienced such a gale (although it wasnothing to those we afterwards encountered), for the wind seemed to blowfrom all points of the compass at once as we blundered blindly alongthrough the deep snow, pushing and hauling at the sleighs as well as ournumbed hands and cumbersome garments would permit. So blinding was thesnow we couldn't see a yard ahead; so fierce the wind we could scarcelystand up to it. Suddenly both teams gave a wild plunge which sent ussprawling on our faces, and when I regained my feet the sleighs wereupset and the horses, snorting with terror, were up to their girths in asnow-drift. I then gave up all hopes of reaching a station that night. For over an hour we worked like galley-slaves, and suddenly when we hadfinally got things partly righted, the wind dropped as if by magic, andone or two stars peeped out overhead. The rapidity with which theweather can change in these regions is simply marvellous. We often lefta post-house in clear weather, and, less than an hour after, werefighting our way in the teeth of a gale and heavy snow. An hour laterand stillness would again reign, and the sun be shining as before! Wenow quickly took advantage of the lull to push on, and in a few hourswere rewarded by the glimmering lights of a post-house. We had reachedthe village of Yakurimsk and, being fairly exhausted by the cold andhard work, I resolved to stay here the night. This was our firstexperience of frost-bite (both faces and hands suffered severely), whichis not actually painful until circulation returns, and care must then betaken not to approach a fire. I have always found that snow, vigorouslyrubbed on the frozen part, is the best remedy. The stage betweenUst-kutsk and Yakurimsk was a short one, only about eighteen _versts_, but it took us six hours to make it. When we awoke next morning brightsunshine was streaming into the guest-room, which was older and filthierthan usual. But it possessed a cracked and cloudy looking-glass whichdimly reflected three countenances swollen and discoloured beyondrecognition. For we had neglected to anoint our faces with grease(Lanoline is the best), but after this experience never neglected thisessential precaution. 

The postmaster at Yakurimsk, a decrepit Pole of benign but unwashedexterior, informed me that the woods around his village swarmed withbears, and that on payment of a few roubles for beaters he could ensureus a good day's sport. But although the offer was tempting I did notfeel justified in risking the delay. Wolves had also been numerous, buthad, as usual, confined their attacks to pigs and cattle. Beforevisiting Siberia I had the usual fallacious notion concerning theaggressiveness of this meek and much maligned animal. I remember, in myearly youth, a coloured plate depicting a snow scene and a sleigh beinghotly pursued at full gallop by a pack of hungry and savage-lookingwolves. In the sleigh was a Cossack pale with terror, with a baby in histeeth and a pistol in each hand. I fancy that, in riper years, I musthave unconsciously based my estimate of the wolf's ferocity on thisillustration, for I have now crossed Siberia four times without beingattacked, or even meeting any one who had been molested. The only wolfwhich ever crossed my path was a haggard mangy-looking specimen, which, at first sight, I took for a half-starved dog. We met in a lonely woodnear Krasnoyarsk in Western Siberia, but, as soon as he caught sight ofme, the brute turned and ran for his life!

Our drivers and horses were exchanged at every station so that thesevere work of the previous night did not retard our progress afterleaving Yakurimsk. The weather was fine and we made good headway untilthe 28th, on the afternoon of which day we reached the second town ofKirensk. A few miles above the latter the Lena makes a wide _détour_ offifty to sixty miles and the post-road is laid overland in a straightline to avoid it. It was a relief to exchange, if only for a few hours, that eternal vista of lime-stone and pines for a more extended view. TheKirensk mountains are here crossed, a range which, although of no greataltitude, is precipitous and thickly wooded, so much so that in placesthe sleighs could scarcely pass between the trees. The climb was severe, but a lovely view over hundreds of miles of country amply rewarded ourexertions. The glorious panorama of mountain, stream, and woodlandstretching away on all sides to the horizon, intersected by the silveryLena, was after the flat and dismal river scenery like a draught ofclear spring water to one parched with thirst. Overhead a network ofrime-coated branches sparkled against the blue with a bright and almostunnatural effect that reminded one of a Christmas card. A steep anddifficult descent brought us to the plains again, and after a pleasantdrive through forests of pine and cedar interspersed with mountain ashand a pretty red-berried shrub of which I ignore the name, we arrived, almost sorry that the short land trip was over, at Kirensk. 

Although not the largest, this is the prettiest and cleanest-lookingtown on the Lena. Perhaps our favourable impressions of the place werepartly due to the dazzling sunshine and still, delicious air. Dull skiesand a fog would, perhaps, have made a world of difference; but as, underexisting conditions, Kirensk afforded us the only interval of real restand enjoyment on the Lena, we were proportionately grateful. And it wasalmost a pleasure to walk through the neat streets, with theirgaily-painted houses and two or three really fine stores, where anyarticle from a ship's anchor to a gramophone seemed to be on sale. A fewmercantile houses and a busy little dockyard, with a couple ofriver-steamers in course of construction, explained the prosperousappearance of this attractive little town, which contrasted cheerfullywith all others which we saw in Siberia. The inn was quite in keepingwith its surroundings, and perhaps a longer time than was absolutelynecessary was passed there, for _déjeuner_ was served, not in the usualdark fusty room reeking with foul odours, but in a bright, cheerfullittle apartment with comfortable furniture and a table set with a whitecloth and spotless china by a window overlooking the river. There was amechanical organ, too, which enlivened us with "La Marseillaise" and"Loin du Pays" as a pretty waiting-maid in Russian costume served uswith some excellent cutlets and an omelette, which were washed down witha bottle of Crimean wine. These culinary details may appear trifles tothe reader, but they had already become matters of moment to us. And thesun shone so brightly that the claret glowed like a ruby in the glass aswe drank to the success of the expedition and our friends in far-awayFrance and England. And so susceptible is man to the influence of hissurroundings that for one fleeting hour New York seemed no distance awayto speak of!

After leaving Kirensk the horses were harnessed _gusem_ or tandemfashion, for it is here necessary to leave the river and travel alongits shores where the roadway becomes a mere track three or four feetwide through the forests. As our sleighs were unusually broad, thiscaused some trouble, and once or twice trees had to be felled before wecould proceed. When Vitimsk was reached, on February 2, the driversthere flatly refused to embark upon a stage until the breadth of oursleighs had been reduced by at least one-third. Fortunately the weatherchanged for the worse, and snowstorms and a stiff Northern gale wouldhave greatly impeded us, so that the lost time was not so precious as itmight have been. There is no inn at Vitimsk, but the post-house wasclean and comfortable, and the _ispravnik_, on reading the Governor'sletter, also placed his house and services at my disposal, but I onlyavailed myself of the latter to hasten the alteration to the sleighs. The only wheelwright in Vitimsk being an incorrigible drunkard, thisoperation would, under ordinary circumstances, have occupied at least aweek; under the watchful eye of the stern official it was finished inforty-eight hours. Politically, I am a Radical, but I am bound to admitthat there are circumstances under which an autocratic form ofGovernment has its advantages. 

Until Vitimsk was reached we had met but few travellers during ourjourney down the Lena, certainly under a score in all, which wasfortunate, considering the limited accommodation _en route_. But atVitimsk I was destined to come across not only an Englishman but apersonal friend. The meeting, on both sides, was totally unexpected, andas on the evening of our arrival I watched a sleigh drive up through theblinding storm and a shapeless bundle of furs emerge from it and staggerinto the post-house, I little dreamt that the newcomer was one with whomI had passed many a pleasant hour in the realms of civilisation. Therecognition was not mutual, for a week of real Siberian travel willrender any man unrecognisable. "Pardon, M'sieu, " began the stranger, andI at once recognised the familiar British accent; "Je reste iciseulement une heure. " "Faites, monsieur, " was my reply. But as I spokethe fur-clad giant looked up from the valise he was unstrapping andregarded me curiously. "Well, I'm d----d, " he said, after a long pause, "if it isn't Harry de Windt. " But Talbot Clifton had to reveal hisidentity, for months of hardship and privation, followed by a dangerousillness, had so altered his appearance that I doubt if even his motherwould have recognised her son in that post-house at Vitimsk. Clifton hadalready passed a year among the Eskimo on the Northern coast of theAmerican continent, when, in the summer of 1901, he descended the Lenaas far as its delta on the Arctic Ocean. Here he remained for severalmonths, living with the natives and accompanying them on their fishingand shooting expeditions. In the fall of the year he returned toYakutsk, where he contracted a chill which developed into doublepneumonia, and nearly cost him his life. My friend, who was now on hisway home to England, had only bad news for us. The reindeer to the northof Yakutsk were so scarce and so weak that he had only just managed tostruggle back there from Bulun, on the delta, a trifling trip comparedto the journey we were about to undertake. Moreover, the mountain passessouth of Verkhoyansk were blocked with snow, and, even if deer wereobtainable, we might be detained on the wrong side of the range fordays, or even weeks. All things considered, I would rather not have metClifton at this juncture, for his gloomy predictions seemed to sink intothe hearts of my companions--and remain there. However, a pleasantevening was passed with the assistance of tobacco and a villainousmixture, which my friend concocted with fiery _vodka_ and some wildberries, and called punch. I doubt if, before this notable occasion, Vitimsk had ever contained (at the same time) two Englishmen, aFrenchman, and the writer, who may claim to be a little of both. 

Talbot Clifton left early the next day, and before sunset the sleighswere finished and we were once more on the road. From Vitimsk Idespatched telegrams to the Governor of Yakutsk and the London _DailyExpress_, and was surprised at the moderate charges for transmission. Ofcourse, the messages had to be written in Russian, but they were sentthrough at five and ten kopeks a word respectively. [11]

[Footnote 11: A kopek is the one-hundredth part of a rouble; the valueof the latter is about 2_s. _ 1_d. _]

Vitimsk is, perhaps, less uninteresting than other towns on the Lena, for two reasons. It is the centre of a large and important gold-miningdistrict, and the finest sables in the world are found in its immediateneighbourhood. Up till four years ago the gold was worked in a verydesultory way, but machinery was introduced in 1898, and last year analready large output was trebled. This district is said to be richerthan Klondike, but only Russian subjects may work the gold. 

Olekminsk (pronounced "Alokminsk") was now our objective point. I shallnot weary the reader with the details of this stage, for he is probablyalready too familiar, as we were at this juncture, with the physical andsocial aspects of travel on the Lena. Suffice it to say that aconsiderable portion of the journey was accomplished through denseforests, during which the sleighs were upset on an average twice a dayby refractory teams, and that the filthiest post-houses and worstweather we had yet experienced added to the discomfort of the trip. Blizzards, too, were now of frequent occurrence, and once we were lostfor nearly eighteen hours in the drifts and suffered severely from coldand hunger. Nearing Yakutsk travellers became more numerous, and we metsome strange types of humanity. Two of these, travelling together, arestamped upon my memory. They consisted of an elderly, bewigged, andpowdered little Italian, his German wife, a much-berouged lady of largeproportions and flaxen hair, with a poodle. We met them at midnight in apost-house, where they had annexed every available inch of sleepingspace the tiny hut afforded. 

A gale and gusts of sleet rendered further progress impossible for thatnight, and I was therefore compelled to break in upon the conjugalprivacy of the couple and their faithful companion. Monsieur, who wassleeping on the floor, at once made room for us, but Madame, who (withthe poodle) occupied the bench, fiercely resented the intrusion andthreatened de Clinchamp, the first to enter the room, with summaryvengeance if he did not at once retire. This my friend politely did, but it was so bitterly cold outside that I battered at the bolted doorof the guest-room until the little Italian emerged, and volublyexplained the situation. His massive consort, it appeared, invariablydisrobed at night (even in a Lena post-house!), and was not prepared toreceive visitors. Gallantry forbade further discussion, and we sharedthe postmaster's dark closet with his wife and five squalling children. The room, about ten feet by four, possessed the atmosphere of a Turkishbath, and an odour as though it had, for several months, harboured athriving family of ferrets. But with a lady in the question there wasnothing to be done. When we awoke next morning the strange couple haddeparted. I never saw them again, but from what I afterwards heard atYakutsk their mission to that city was such a shady one that I questionif "Madame's" modesty was not assumed for the occasion. 

The remainder of the journey from here to Yakutsk was accomplishedwithout further incident, and the town of Olekminsk so resembles itspredecessors as to need no description. We reached the place late atnight, but the _ispravnik_ was more hospitably inclined than others wehad met, and gave us supper while the teams were changed. One of thedishes would certainly have found favour in a Paris restaurant--a fishcalled "Nelma, " which is found only in the Lena, and is served uncookedand in thin frozen slices. Ices and champagne terminated the littlerepast, which was presided over by our host's pretty wife. The onlyother guest was one Vassily Brando, a political exile, whose intimacywith the _ispravnik_ was strangely at variance with all that I had heardand read concerning exiles in the remoter parts of Siberia. Brando, aJewish-looking person with keen dark eyes, was undergoing a sentence ofeight years here after the usual term of preliminary imprisonment inEurope. During his incarceration Brando had taught himself English, which he now spoke almost fluently. This exile told me that Olekminskcontained twenty other politicals, and was preferred to any other townor village on the Lena as a place of detention. Neither he nor hiscompanions could travel for more than ten versts in any directionwithout a special permit from the Governor of Yakutsk, but, as the poorfellow pathetically remarked, "That's no great hardship!" The exiles atOlekminsk may frequently receive letters and communicate with theirfriends (under the supervision of the authorities), and the solace ofmodern literature is not denied them so long as it is not connected withSocialism. Brando was an ardent admirer of Rudyard Kipling, and could, Iverily believe, have passed an examination in most of his works. 

[Illustration: POOR YAKUTES. ]

We took leave of our kind host, Captain Bereskine, at midnight. It wasbitterly cold (30° below zero), and I was, therefore, surprised when wealighted at the first post-house, after a long stage of thirty-fivemiles, to find our host smilingly awaiting us with sandwiches, cigarettes, and a bottle of cognac! He had passed us on the road, determined, even at considerable discomfort to himself, that we shouldtravel, at any rate through his district, in comfort. Such a thingcould never have occurred in any country but Siberia, where hospitalityis looked upon (amongst Russians) as the first duty of man. Just imagineleaving your host on a cold winter's night in England to travel fromLondon to Edinburgh and finding him waiting at, say, Hitchin to bid youa final farewell. But the _simile_ is weak, for there is a vastdifference between an open sleigh and a sleeping-car. 

An interesting personality we afterwards met on the road to Yakutsk wasDr. Herz, the famous naturalist, whom we fortunately came across in apost-house, for it gave me an opportunity of a chat with the Doctoranent his now well-known discovery, the "latest Siberian Mammoth, " whichhe was conveying in sections, packed in twenty sleighs, to Irkutsk. Dr. Herz gave us, like Talbot Clifton, very disheartening accounts ofaffairs north of Yakutsk. The Doctor had travelled here from the Kolymariver (our goal on the Arctic Ocean) only with the greatest difficultyon account of the scarcity of reindeer and the dangerous condition ofthe mountain passes. The task of conveying the mammoth, even as far asthis point, had been an almost super-human one, but no trouble orexpense had been spared in the preservation of this antediluvianmonster, which is undoubtedly the most perfect specimen of its kind everbrought to light. The animal was found frozen into a huge block of ice, as it had evidently fallen from a cliff overhead, for the forelegs werebroken and there were other signs of injury. The flesh of the mammoth(which measures about twenty feet high) was of a pinkish colour and asfresh, in appearance, as during the monster's lifetime, countless agesago. Some grasses found in the mouth had been carefully preserved, andhave since been analysed with the view of ascertaining the age of theprehistoric monster. Time was now of the greatest importance to Dr. Herz, for everything depended upon the arrival of his treasure inEuropean Russia in a frozen condition. A few days of warm muggy weathernearing Europe might render futile the task of many months of hardship. So our interview was of short duration, but I am glad to say that theeminent Professor eventually met with success, and that his pricelessaddition to the treasury of natural history now occupies a niche ofhonour in the Imperial Academy of Science in Petersburg. 

Nearing Yakutsk the country becomes unutterably wild and desolate. Forest trees are now replaced for miles and miles by low withered scruband dwarf fir-trees on either side of the river. As we proceed the Lenagradually widens until it resembles a succession of huge lakes, whereeven our practised drivers have some difficulty in finding the way. TheRussian language is now seldom heard, for in the villages a kind ofnative _patois_ is spoken. And yet the country is more thickly populatedthan upriver, although the pretty Russian _isba_ has given place to theYakute _yurta_, a hideous flat-roofed mud-hut, with blocks of ice forwindow-panes, and yellow-faced weirdly clad inmates, with rough, uncouthmanners and the beady black eyes of the Tartar. And one cold greymorning I awaken, worn out with cold and fatigue, to peer with sleepyeyes, no longer down the familiar avenue of ice and pine-trees, butacross a white and dreary wilderness of snow. On the far horizon, dividing earth and sky, a thin drab streak is seen which soon merges, inthe clear sunrise, into the faint semblance of a city. Golden domes andtapering fire-towers are soon distinguishable, and our driver growsproportionately loquacious as his home is neared. "Yakutsk!" he cries, with a wave of his short, heavy whip, and I awaken de Clinchamp, stillslumbering peacefully, with the welcome news that the first importantstage of our long land-journey is nearly at an end. [12]

[Footnote 12: This was on February 14, 1902, and 7800 miles (out of asomewhat alarming total) now lay behind us. To reach this from Irkutskwe had employed 720 horses, at a cost of under £70 for both sleighs. ]

CHAPTER IV

THE CITY OF THE YAKUTE

During our stay in Yakutsk we were the guests of the Chief of Police, anofficial generally associated (in the English mind) with mystery andoppression, dungeons and the knout. But Captain Zuyeff in no wayresembled his prototype of the London stage and penny novelette. Byrights our host should have been a cool cynical villain, always in fulluniform, and continually turning up at awkward moments to harass someinnocent victim, instead of which he was rather a commonplace butbenevolent individual devoted to his wife and child and consumed with apassion for photography, which was shared by many of the exiles underhis charge. I once had occasion to go to his office and found Zuyeff inhis shirt sleeves, busily engaged in developing "Kodak" films with apolitical who had dined at his house the night before! But this wouldnever have done for a transpontine audience. 

Yakutsk (which was founded in 1633 by the Cossack Beketoff) presents, ata distance, a rather imposing appearance, quickly dispelled on closeracquaintance. For a more lifeless, depressing city does not exist on theface of this planet. Even Siberians call this the end of the world. Thevery name of the place suggests gloom and mystery, for the news thatfilters through from here, at long intervals, into civilisation isgenerally associated with some tragedy or disaster, such as the awfulfate of poor de Long and his companions of the _Jeannette_ in the Lenadelta, or more recently the Yakutsk Prison Mutiny. The Tsar's remotestcapital is composed mainly of time-bleached wooden buildings of gloomyappearance even on the brightest day. We saw Yakutsk at its best, for insummer time the dusty streets and dingy dwellings are revealed in allthe dirt and squalor which were concealed from our gaze by a cleanmantle of snow. There are no public buildings to speak of, but thegolden domes of half a dozen fine churches tower over the dull drabtown, partly relieving the sombre effect produced by an absolute lack ofcolour. Even the palace of the Governor is a mean-looking one-storiededifice, scarcely fit for the ruler of a province seven times the sizeof France! A Cossack stockade of great age faces the palace; and itsdilapidated wooden walls are tottering with age, but are yet in keepingwith most of the houses around them. There is a legend concerning thisfort (erected by Cossacks in 1647) which may, or may not, be true. Thenatives granted these first settlers as much land, for the erection of acitadel, as they could encircle with a limited number of reindeer skins. But the wily Russians cut the skins into thin, very long strips and tookpossession of an extensive site for a town. At present Yakutsk is a cityof the past, one may almost add of the dead, where ghosts walk in theshape of surly Russian traders clad in the fashion of a century ago, andsinister-looking fur-clad Yakutes. And yet the dead here may be said tolive, for corruption is delayed for an indefinite period, so intense isthe cold. Shortly before our arrival a young Russian girl was exhumedfor legal purposes, and her body was found in exactly the same conditionas when it was interred five years before. This however is scarcelysurprising in a soil which is perpetually frozen to a depth of sixhundred feet. 

The uncanny sensation of gloom and despondency which here assails thetraveller is not mitigated by the knowledge that, to reach Yakutsk youmust slowly wade, as we had done, through a little hell of monotony, hunger, and filth. To leave it you must retrace your steps through thesame purgatory of mental and physical misery. There is no other wayhome, and so, to the stranger fresh from Europe, the place is a sink ofdespair. And yet Yakutsk only needs capital, energy, and enterprise toconvert her into a centre of modern commerce and civilisation. Goldabounds in all the affluents of the Lena; last year the output in theVitimsk district alone was over a quarter of a million sterling, and thesoil is practically untouched. Iron also exists in very largequantities, to say nothing of very fair steam coal near the delta; andthere is practically a mountain of silver known to exist near the city. Lead and platinum have also been found in considerable quantitiesfurther afield. Were the Yakutsk province an American State the nowdesolate shores of the Lena would swarm with prosperous towns, and thecity would long ere this have become a Siberian El Dorado of themerchant and miner. [13] As it is the trade of this place is nothing towhat it could be made, in capable and energetic hands, within a veryshort space of time. Here, as everywhere else on the river, the summeris the busiest season. In August a fair is held on the Lena in barges, which drift down the river from the Ust-kutsk with European merchandiseof every description. In the fall the barges are towed back by steamers, exporting furs, fish, and ivory to the value of twenty million roubles, the goods brought in only amounting to about a twentieth part of thatsum. Steamers run frequently in the open season both up and down theriver as far as Bulun in the Arctic Ocean, which tiny settlement yearlyexports large quantities of salt fish, furs, and walrus tusks. [14]

[Footnote 13: In face of these natural resources it is satisfactory tonote that a line from Irkutsk to Yakutsk could be laid with littledifficulty. ]

[Footnote 14: Steam navigation on the Lena river was introduced in1885. ]

In former days before the Russians annexed the Amur river there wasregular communication between Yakutsk and Okhotsk, on the sea of thatname, but although the road, or rather track, still exists, it is nowrarely used. [15] However, American and Chinese goods do occasionallyfind their way into Siberia by Okhotsk, for the latter is a free port, and if merchandise is destined for the Lena province, it is cheaper tosend it in this way than _viâ_ Vladivostok and the Amur, especially assteamers now visit the Sea of Okhotsk every summer, sailing fromVladivostok and making the round trip _viâ_ Gijija, Ayan, andOkhotsk. [16] In winter time, when the track is in good condition, thetrip from Okhotsk to Yakutsk occupies about a fortnight, with horsesledges. In summer the goods are carried over the mountains to the headof the Nelkan River, which is reached twice during the season bysteamers plying from Yakutsk, a journey of two weeks up stream and abouthalf the time down. The Nelkan district is said to be fabulously rich ingold, so much so that Mr. Siberikoff, a prominent Siberian millionaire, lately visited the place with a view to constructing a railway toconnect Nelkan with Ayan, on the Sea of Okhotsk, a distance of about twohundred versts. [17] The line would be a costly one, but the country issaid to be so rich, that no expense is to be spared in opening it up. Steamers also run from Yakutsk up to Viluisk, but the trade with thisplace amounts to very little, £5000 or £6000 in all, every summer. NearViluisk is the Hospital for Lepers founded some years ago by the Englishnurse, Miss Kate Marsden. In view of the conflicting statements whichhave appeared in England regarding this institution it is only fair tosay that the lady in question is still spoken of in Yakutsk with respectand affection, and that the infirmary, which after much suffering andhardship she contrived to organise, is still in a flourishing condition. In 1901 it contained more than seventy patients in charge of aphysician, his two assistants and three sisters of charity. 

[Footnote 15: See projected railway route, chap. Xix. ]

[Footnote 16: The Port of Ola is now also called at. ]

[Footnote 17: This line is now commenced. See chap. Xix. ]

As for the climate here it is no better and no worse than other placesin this latitude, although Yakutsk is said to be the coldest place inwinter and the hottest in summer in the world. But this is probably amistake, for I carefully searched records of the temperature kept dailyfor the past fifteen years, and found that the greatest summer heatexperienced during that period was 78° Fahrenheit in the shade, which iscooler than an average English summer; 69° below zero appeared to be thegreatest cold here between the months of October and March, while atVerkhoyansk we experienced 78° below zero, which is, I imagine, about aslow as the thermometer can fall on this earth. Winter here begins inSeptember, and by the first week in October the country is ice-bound, and semi-darkness and 55° to 65° below zero continue until the spring. In May the Lena breaks up, flooding the country for hundreds of milesand isolating Yakutsk for about a month, during which you can neitherget to the city nor leave it. [18] During the three months of summer dustand clouds or mosquitoes render life almost unbearable. And yet Yakutskis a paradise compared to a certain settlement, which I shall presentlydescribe, within the Arctic circle. 

[Footnote 18: The Lena is not perfectly free from ice until the end ofMay or early in June. By October 20 it is generally frozen over. "It isa peculiarity of these northern rivers that their waters are mainlyderived from the melting snows in June and July, when the Lena, forexample, overflowing its banks, spreads here and there to a width of 60miles or more. "--("In the Lena Delta, " by G.  W. Melville. )]

The day following our arrival a lunch was given in our honour by theGovernor at the Palace, a ramshackle old building, comfortablyfurnished, but with no attempt at ostentation. The household was morelike that of an English country house, and there was none of thestateliness and ceremony here which characterised the Governor's Palaceat Irkutsk. Nor was I sorry for it, for in this land of hunger and longdistances man can well dispense with formality and etiquette. We satdown over a score to lunch, including half a dozen ladies, one, atleast, of whom was young and attractive, and as daintily gowned asthough she had just returned from a drive in the Bois de Boulogne. ButMadame V---- the bride of a Government official had arrived here toorecently to acquire the mildewed appearance (I can use no other term), which every woman seems to acquire after a prolonged residence inYakutsk. The meal was a merry one and was followed by music and dancinguntil nightfall, when another repast was served. By the way, althoughthe pangs of hunger had often assailed us on the road, the frequency ofmeals here was our greatest trial. For they seemed to continue at shortintervals throughout the twenty-four hours. The house of our host, theChief of Police, was, for Yakutsk, an extremely quiet and orderly one, and yet I never once succeeded in getting to bed before 4 o'clock in themorning, chiefly because the principal meal of the day was only servedat midnight. Breakfast at 9 A. M. Consisted of such dainties as blackbread, smoked fish, and _cheese_! This was followed at mid-day by aheavier meal, where wines, beer, and fiery _vodka_ played an importantpart. At 3 P. M. A dinner of several courses was discussed, and at 8 P. M. Tea (accompanied by sweets and cakes) was again partaken of. Themidnight supper aforementioned wound up the day. A sideboard in thedining-room was laid out with salt fish, ham, _caviar_, raw cucumber, &c. , for snacks at odd moments! There was seldom more than about threeor four hours sleep, but a siesta was generally indulged in from 4 to 7P. M. , and a stay of ten days here convinced me of the wisdom of thisarrangement. Most of the men passed their evenings in gambling at cards, but the women appeared to have absolutely no occupation of a rationalkind. The entire city only boasted of three pianos, but nearly everyhouse possessed a gramophone, which generally provided the music afterdinner, when the ladies would sit in a silent circle and listen to theruthless assassination of Massénet and Mascagni, while the men playedcards or walked up and down the room chatting and smoking, andfrequently adjourning to the buffet, which in Yakutsk is seldom fardistant. Once a month an amateur performance is given at the club, andwe attended one of these entertainments, which was of a wearisomedescription, commencing at about 6 P. M. And lasting till long aftermidnight. Of course there was, as usual, plenty to eat and drink betweenthe acts. [19]

[Footnote 19: The Russian Admiral Von Wrangell (who visited Yakutsk in1820) wrote: "The inhabitants are not in an advanced state ofintellectual cultivation. They pass much of their super-abundant leisurein somewhat noisy assemblages where eating and drinking play a principalpart. After dinner, which is a very substantial meal, and at which_nalivka_, a liquor made of brandy, berries, and sugar, is not spared, the gentlemen pass the afternoon with cards and punch, and the ladiesgather round the tea-table. "]

As sometimes happens in this world men here are far better off thanwomen, for the former are occupied during the day with theirprofessional duties, and, if so inclined, they can obtain excellentfishing and shooting within a day's journey. The Verkhoyansk mountainscan be reached in under a week, and here there are elk, wild sheep, andother big game, but for the unfortunate fair sex life is one eternalround of hopeless monotony. There is not even a regiment to enliven thedreariness of existence, for the garrison consists of about one hundredand fifty Cossacks, with only a couple of officers in command. Nor isthere a newspaper; only a dry official journal printed once a month, while the telegrams received by the Governor are sent round tosubscribers of one rouble per month. In summer it is possible to walk ordrive about, notwithstanding the mosquitoes, but in spring orwinter-time the women here are often kept indoors for days together bythe floods or piercing cold. No wonder that physical strength is soonimpaired by an idle life, stimulants, and the eternal cigarette, or thatmoral laxity should follow the daily contamination of spicy scandal andpernicious French literature. I have heard Siberians assert that Yakutskis the most immoral city in the world, and (with a mental reservationregarding Bucharest) I felt bound to agree with them. For if onlyone-half of the tales which I heard concerning the gay doings of the_élite_ here were true, then must the wicked little Roumanian capital"take" (to use a slang expression) "a back seat. " Apparently this stateof affairs has existed for some time, for when Admiral Melville, of the_Jeannette_, was here twenty years ago, searching the coast for hisunfortunate shipmates, he attended a reception given on New Year's Eveby the Lieutenant-Governor, and was told by the latter that, "on thatnight, as on no other, every man had his own wife at his side instead ofsome other man's. "[20]

[Footnote 20: "In the Lena Delta, " by G.  W. Melville. ]

At the time of our visit Yakutsk contained under a score of politicalexiles, who seemed to be no worse off, socially, than any one else, forthey moved freely about in society and were constantly favoured guestsof the Chief of Police. The exiles, however, were not permitted to takepart in the private theatricals I have mentioned, a restriction whichcaused them great annoyance. Their loud and unfavourable criticisms fromthe stalls on the evening in question were certainly not in the best oftaste, and, to my surprise, they were not resented by the Governor'sstaff. This incident will show that, in Yakutsk at any rate, the"politicals" are treated not only with leniency but with a friendlycourtesy, which on this occasion was certainly abused. Mr. Olenin, anexile whose term of banishment was expiring, told me that he had nofault whatever to find with Yakutsk as a place of exile, so much so thathe had resolved not to return to Russia at the end of his sentence, butto remain here and complete an ethnological work upon which he wasengaged. As will presently be seen (in the eighth chapter), I do not inany way hold a brief for the Russian Government, although I haveoccasionally been accused (in the English Press) of painting its prisonsin _couleur de rose_ for my own private ends. I simply state what I sawon this and subsequent occasions, and am glad to say that in Yakutskthe condition of the political exiles was as satisfactory as it couldpossibly be made in such a rigorous climate and amidst such cheerlesssurroundings. 

I obtained from Mr. Olenin a plain and unvarnished account of theYakutsk prison revolt, and subsequent "massacre, " which aroused suchindignation in England a few years ago. It was then reported that thepolitical exiles here were subjected to such cruelty while in prisonthat they unsuccessfully tried to starve themselves and then mutinied, upon which both men and women were mercilessly butchered. As a matter offact, at the commencement of the incident the exiles were not confinedin prison at all, but were living in provisional liberty. What reallyhappened was this. A party (numbering about half a dozen of both sexes), which was bound for Verkhoyansk, carried more baggage than usual, andthe season being far advanced, the Governor of Yakutsk directed that theexiles should start forthwith without their belongings, which should besent after them as soon as possible. Otherwise, he explained, thepoliticals might not reach their destination before the break-up of theroads, which would probably mean death from starvation or by drowning inthe floods. But an angry discussion followed this edict, and as thepoliticals were assembling in the open street for departure a youngstudent lost his temper and fired his revolver, killing a policeman. Ageneral _mêlée_ ensued, during which several persons were accidentallykilled and wounded, for a large crowd had been attracted by the sound offirearms. The exiles, Füff, Minor, and Pik, were shot dead on the spot. A young woman, Madame Gouriévitch, about to become a mother, wasbayoneted, and died in great agony. Finally, after a hard struggle, theculprits were secured and confined in the prison, where some of them didundoubtedly try to starve themselves in order to escape execution. Thecase was tried at Petersburg, and three of the ringleaders, Zotoff, Haussmann, and Bernstein, were duly hanged in the Yakutsk gaol. Zotoff, who had been badly wounded during the fight, had to be carried on hisbed to the scaffold. The other exiles received long terms ofimprisonment at the political prison at Akatui, where I saw andconversed with them in 1894. [21] The women were sent to Viluisk, buthave since been liberated. 

[Footnote 21: For further details of this prison see "The New Siberia, "by Harry de Windt. Chatto and Windus, London. 1896. ]

Criminal convicts here are also well cared for, although the prison, which contained about ninety inmates, was old and dilapidated, likealmost every other building in the place. But the wards appeared to befairly clean and well warmed, a comfortable infirmary adjoined thebuilding, and also a home maintained by private subscriptions for thechildren of prisoners. Enforced idleness seemed to be the chiefcomplaint from which the convicts were suffering, for during the longwinter months it is naturally difficult to find them employment. 

Being aware that Russian officials are seldom overpaid, the lavish stylein which they entertained us astonished me, for provisions of all kindsmust, I imagined, always be at famine prices in a town within measurabledistance of the Arctic regions. But inquiry proved that I was entirelywrong, and that living here is as cheap, if not cheaper, than inIrkutsk. It used not to be so when, in former days, Yakutsk wassurrounded by vast marshes, often submerged, and apparently quiteuseless for the purposes of cultivation. [22] But these are now convertedinto fertile plains of grain and pasture, this innovation being entirelydue to the "Skoptsi, " a religious sect exiled from European Russia, who, by dint of thrift and industry, have raised a flourishing colony on theoutskirts of the city. [23] Cultivation was formerly deemed impossible inthis inclement region, but now the Skopt exile amasses wealth while theRussian emigrant gazes disconsolately at the former's rich fields andsleek cattle, and wonders how it is all done. For the Skoptsi areup-to-date farmers, employing modern American machinery, which theyimport into the country _viâ_ Vladivostok. And their efforts have beenamply repaid, for in 1902 the sale of corn and barley, formerly unknownhere, realised the sum of over a million roubles. Thirty years ago thisdistrict contained but few herds of cattle, and now nearly two millionroubles' worth of frozen meat is annually exported to the varioussettlements up and down the river. The inhabitants of Yakutsk are alsoindebted to these industrious exiles for the fact that their markets arenow provided with vegetables of most kinds, although only the potatowas procurable some years ago. Now cabbages, beetroot, carrots, radishes, cucumbers, and lettuce are to be had in season at a reasonableprice, to say nothing of delicious water-melons in August, but I couldnot find that any other kind of garden-fruit was grown here, althoughwild berries are both numerous and delicious. 

[Footnote 22: The explorer Dobell wrote: "In the autumn of 1813 I foundthat agriculture had advanced no further than Olekma (Olekminsk), 600versts above Yakutsk. "]

[Footnote 23: The Skoptsi faith, the practice of which is strictlyforbidden in Russia, entails a life of absolute chastity. This sect canonly acquire new members by election, since both sexes so mutilate theirpersons that they can neither beget nor bear children. ]

The Skoptsi exiles, who number about six hundred, inhabit a villagecalled Markha about seven versts from Yakutsk. Every man and woman inthe place (there are of course no children) is a Skopt. We visitedMarkha one bright morning, driving out with the Governor, his staff andseveral other officials in about a dozen sleighs in all. Breakfast hadbeen prepared for us at the house of the wealthiest Skopt in thevillage, and we did justice to it with appetites sharpened by the drivethrough the keen frosty air. There was a breeze and the cold waspiercing, but once indoors the sun streamed into the room with suchforce that I was compelled to move my seat away from a window. One mighthave been lunching in the late spring at Nice or Beaulieu. Thescrupulous cleanliness of Markha after the dirt and squalor of mostSiberian villages was striking. Our host's sitting-room contained evenpalms and flowers, artificial, of course, but cheerful to the eye. Hehimself waited on us during the meal, and continually plied his guestswith champagne and other rare vintages, for the Skopt, although a miserat heart, is fond of displaying his wealth. Avarice is thecharacteristic of these people, although they are kind to their ownpoor. We visited an institution maintained solely by the village forthe old and decrepit of both sexes, and this place would have donecredit to a European city. On the way to this establishment we passedseveral windmills, a rare sight in Siberia, also a number of corn andsaw mills driven by steam. The engines were of American make, also allthe agricultural machinery, which was shown us with pardonable pride. Inevery shed we entered the cattle looked sleek and well fed, and thepoorest and tiniest hut had its poultry yard. The Lena Province nowcontains over 300, 000 head of cattle, and their number is yearlyincreasing. When the Skoptsi first came here, forty years ago, cows andoxen were numbered by the hundred. 

Books and European newspapers were plentiful in all the houses wevisited in Markha, and the Skoptsi with whom I conversed were men ofconsiderable intelligence, well up in the questions of the day. Buttheir personal appearance is anything but attractive. Most of the menare enormously stout, with smooth flabby faces and dull heavy eyes, while the women have an emaciated and prematurely old appearance. Thecreed is no doubt a revolting one, physically and morally, but with allhis faults the Skopt has certain good points which his free neighboursin Yakutsk might do well to imitate. [24]

[Footnote 24: When a Skopt dies, his property is confiscated by theState, but he generally finds means to dispose of his wealth in otherways. Occasionally it is buried in remote places, where it remains ifnot discovered by accident. ]

Although the Yakutes form the bulk of the population in Yakutsk (theentire province contains about a quarter of a million) they do not mix agreat deal with the Russians, and we saw little of the better class. Asa race the Yakutes are not interesting, while in appearance both sexesare distinctly plain, and often repulsive. The type is Mongolian; sallowcomplexion, beady eyes, flattened nostrils and wiry black hair. The menare of medium height, thick set and muscular, the women ungainly littlecreatures, bedizened with jewellery, and smothered with paint. Somemarry Russians and assume European dress, which only adds to theirgrotesque appearance. Notwithstanding their defects the Yakutes areextremely proud of their birth and origin, and consider themselvesimmeasurably superior to the Russians, who, they say, are only toleratedin the country for commercial purposes. A Yakute is therefore mortallyoffended if you call his chief town by anything but its native name:"The City of the Yakute. "

Many Yakutes grow wealthy in the fur, fish or ivory trades, and are soshrewd in their dealings that Russians have christened them the "Jews ofSiberia. " But although cunning and merciless in business matters thisSiberian financier becomes a reckless spendthrift in his pleasures, whowill stake a year's income on the yearly Yakutsk Derby (which takesplace over the frozen Lena), or squander away a fortune on riotousliving and the fair sex. All who can afford it are hard drinkers, andchampagne is their favourite beverage. The men of all classes wear along blouse of cloth or fur according to the season, baggy breeches andhigh deerskin boots, --the women loose flowing draperies adorned, insummer, with bright silks and satins, and in winter with costly sables. A lofty head-dress of the same fur is worn in cold weather. The poorerYakute is a miserable mortal. He has no warlike or other characteristicsto render him of any interest whatsoever, like, say his Tchuktchibrethren in the Far North. For the Yakute peasant is too stupid to betreacherous, and as cowardly as the Tchuktchi is brave, and, while hiswealthier compatriots have learned to a certain extent the virtue ofcleanliness, the poor Yakute is generally nothing but a perambulatingbundle of filthy rags, the proximity of which, even in the open air, isalmost unbearable. But this is only amongst the peasantry. The town-bredYakutes are more civilised and cleanly in their habits, and many areemployed by the Russians as domestic servants. All Yakutes pay a poletax of four roubles to the Russian Government, those possessed of meanspaying in addition an income tax. Ten years ago taxes were levied infurs, but they are now paid in coin of the realm. I was surprised tofind that these natives are self-governed to a certain extent; minorcrimes, such as theft, petty larceny, &c. , being judged by prominent menin the towns and the head-man of each village. Murder and more seriouscrimes are dealt with by a Russian tribunal in Yakutsk. 

I shall not forget my surprise one day when nearing Yakutsk to overhearone driver apparently addressing another in pure Turkish, a languagewith which I am slightly acquainted. The mystery was explained byCaptain Zuyeff, who told me that there is such a marked resemblancebetween the language in question and Yakute that a merchant fromConstantinople would readily be understood in the market-places of thisfar-away frozen land. Many words are precisely similar, and the numeralsup to ten are identical (see Appendix). On several occasions, whilecrossing the Yakute region, the natives failed to comprehend my meaningin Russian, but when I spoke in Turkish they at once understood me. [25]

[Footnote 25: "This race is supposed to be a Turkish branch of theTuranian stock. Latham informs us that their language is intelligible atConstantinople, and that the majority of their words are Turkish;observing, also, that their traditions bespeak for them a Southernorigin. He says: 'The locality of the Yakutes is remarkable, it is thatof a weak section of the human race pressed into an inhospitable climateby a stronger one, yet the Turks have ever been the people to displaceothers rather than be displaced themselves. '"--"Frozen Asia, " byProfessor Eden. ]

We experienced considerable difficulty in getting away from Yakutsk, indeed had I not possessed my invaluable passport the expedition wouldprobably have remained there. For every day invitations came pouring infor days ahead, and the entertainers would not hear of a refusal. Atlast, however, firmness became necessary, and I insisted (beingempowered by my magic document to do so) upon immediate preparationsbeing made for our departure, although every official in the place urgedme to abandon a project which they averred could only end in disaster. By suggestion of the Governor a Siberian Cossack from the garrison, Stepan Rastorguyeff, joined the expedition to accompany us so far as Ishould deem expedient, for our further progress now bristled withdifficulties. This man was employed to escort political exiles to thedistant settlement of Sredni-Kolymsk, near the Arctic Ocean, and wastherefore acquainted with the best way of reaching that remote post, indeed he afterwards proved an invaluable addition to our party. 

It seemed hard that fate should have selected this year of all others torender the journey from Yakutsk to the north almost an impossibility. Inthe first place reindeer were so scarce and weak that the 1800 odd milesto Sredni-Kolymsk (which can generally be accomplished, under favourablecircumstances, in four or five weeks) might now take us three months tocover. In this case failure of the journey and a summer in this drearysettlement would be our fate; for from May until October, Sredni-Kolymskis isolated by marshy deserts and innumerable lakes, which can only becrossed in a sled. Throughout the summer, therefore, you can neitherreach the place nor leave it. 

A still more serious matter was an epidemic which had been ragingamongst the Yakutes of the far north, and a fear of which had driven theTchuktchis (or natives of the coast) into the interior of their countryand along the seaboard in an easterly direction until their nearestsettlement was now nearly six hundred miles distant from Sredni-Kolymsk, at which place I had calculated upon finding these natives, andutilising them as a means of procuring food and lodging and guidancealong their desolate coast. Now, however, over six hundred miles of icewithout a stick of shelter or mouthful of food stared me in the face. Itwas also suggested that, if many of the Tchuktchis had perished fromthe dread malady the remainder might have retreated in a body inland, inwhich case death from starvation seemed an unpleasant but not unlikelycontingency. For beyond the aforesaid six hundred miles lay anotherstretch of about 1600 miles more, before we could reach our destination:Bering Straits. 

Lastly, Sredni-Kolymsk had itself suffered from so serious a famine thatan expedition had lately been despatched from Yakutsk to the relief ofthe sufferers. Provisions there would therefore be unprocurable. Also, most of the dogs in the Kolyma district had perished from a scarcity offish the previous season, and as dogs were our sole means of transportalong the Arctic Coast, the reader will admit that, all thingsconsidered, my expedition did not leave Yakutsk under the rosiest ofconditions!

Nevertheless I cannot hope to adequately repay the kindness shown byevery official in Yakutsk, from the Governor downwards, during thattrying time, for it was undoubtedly their timely assistance whicheventually kindled the bright flame of success out of the ashes of aforlorn hope. As soon as it was realised that my resolve to proceednorthward was inflexible, every man worked to further my ends as thoughhe himself was embarking upon the hazardous trip. Even the Governor wascontinually concocting plans to render our voyage as easy as possible, and to that end despatched a Cossack three days ahead of us, so thatreindeer might be forthcoming at the stations without delay. But hisExcellency evidently looked upon the scheme as a mad one, and my dailyanxiety was lest he should suddenly take the initiative, set the wiresin motion with Irkutsk, and put a final stopper on our departure forAmerica--overland. 

We now disposed of our cumbersome Yakute sleighs and exchanged them for"nartas, " or reindeer-sleds, each drawn by four deer. A "narta" is along narrow coffin-shaped vehicle about 7 ft. Long by 3 ft. Broad, fitted with a movable hood, which can be drawn completely over duringstorms or intense cold. The occupant lies at full length upon hismattress and pillows, smothered with furs, and these tiny sleds were asautomobiles to wheelbarrows after our lumbering contrivances on theLena. A reindeer-sled is the pleasantest form of primitive travel in theworld, over smooth hard snow; but over rough ground their very lightnessmakes them roll and pitch about like a cross Channel steamer, to thegreat discomfort of the traveller. 

Furs were my next consideration, for here we discarded civilisedclothing and assumed native dress. The reader will realise what the coldmust have been when I say that we often shivered inside the coveredsleighs (where, however, the temperature never rose above 10° belowzero), under the following mountain of material: two pairs of Jaegersinglets and drawers, thin deerskin breeches and three pairs of thickworsted stockings. Over this a suit of Arctic duffle (or felt ofenormous thickness), and a pair of deerskin boots reaching above theknee and secured by leathern thongs. Then a second pair of deerskinbreeches and a garment called by the Yakutes a "kukhlanka, " a long, loose deerskin coat reaching to the knees, with a hood of the samematerial lined with wolverine. Under this hood we wore two close-fittingworsted caps and a deerskin cap with ear flaps. Two pairs of worstedgloves and one of bearskin mits, reaching almost to the elbow, completedthe outfit. I had hoped to procure furs for a moderate price in Yakutsk. But for some occult reason deerskins cost almost as much here as inMoscow. The good old days are past when peltry was so cheap and Europeangoods so dear, that an iron cauldron fetched as many sable skins as itwould hold! Stepan also insisted upon the purchase of a number of ironhorse-shoes, which he explained were to be affixed to our moccasins inorder to cross the Verkhoyansk mountains in safety. But the method didnot strike me at the time as practical, and I afterwards had even lessrespect for its inventor. 

Lastly provisions had to be purchased. Our original outfit brought fromLondon comprised rations sufficient for six weeks; but this I wasdetermined not to break in upon, unless absolutely necessary, before theArctic coast was reached. There was hardly any food to be procuredbetween Yakutsk and Verkhoyansk, and, according to Stepan, still lessbeyond that isolated village. A reindeer-sled was therefore packed toits utmost capacity with black bread, salt fish, various tinnedprovisions, and a portion of some animal unknown, weighing (in a rawcondition) about 100 lbs. I use the term "animal unknown, " as, whencooked at the first station, the latter looked and tasted exactly likehorse-flesh. I mentioned the fact to Stepan, who was already installedas _chef_, and he informed me that horse was regarded as a greatdelicacy by the Yakutes, and fetched twice the price of any other meatin their city. "It was bought as beef, " added the Cossack, "so thatanyhow we have got the best of the bargain. " There was nothing, therefore, for it but to fall to with knife and fork, and with as littlerepulsion as possible, upon the docile friend of man!

We started for the unknown with a caravan of six sleighs in all, ofwhich two were loaded down with food and baggage. The night of ourdeparture, February 21st, was fine, and a crowd assembled in front ofour host's house to bid us farewell. But although long and lingeringcheers followed us out of the city, I fancy many of these well-wishersregarded us more in the light of harmless lunatics than as pioneers of agreat railway which may one day almost encircle the world. Just beforeour departure (which was preceded by a dinner-party), a picturesque butrather trying ceremony took place. Farewells having been said we retiredto don our furs and were entering the sleds when our hostess recalled usfrom the frosty night air into the drawing-room, where the heat was thatof a hothouse. "You must not take your furs off, " said our host, as Iwas divesting myself of a portion of my cumbersome costume, "remain justas you are. " And so we returned to the brightly lit apartment, where theguests had assembled, and here, with a solemnity befitting the occasion, they turned toward the sacred "ikon, " and knelt and prayed for oursafety and success. This is an old and pretty Russian custom nowobsolete in Europe. And I was almost ungrateful enough to wish, as Iknelt in my heavy furs, streaming with perspiration, that it was nolonger practised in Siberia! But the affecting little ceremony was soonover, and after a final adieu to our kind hosts, my caravan slidsilently down the snowy, starlit street. An hour later the lights ofYakutsk had faded away on the horizon, and we had bidden farewell to acivilisation which was only regained, six long months later, at thegold-mining city of Nome in Alaska. 

CHAPTER V

THE LAND OF DESOLATION

Lieutenant Schwatka, the famous Alaskan explorer, once remarked that aman travelling in the Arctic must depend upon his own judgment, and notupon the advice of others, if he would be successful. The wisdom of hiswords was proved by our journey from Yakutsk to Verkhoyansk. Every oneat the former place, from the Governor downwards, assured me thatcertain failure and probable disaster must inevitably attend an attemptto reach Verkhoyansk in under six weeks. Fortunately I turned a deaf earto well-meant, but unwise, counsel, for in less than nine days we hadreached the place in question, and had left it again on our waynorthward in under a fortnight from the time we left Yakutsk. I shouldadd that our rapid rate of speed was entirely due to Stepan, withoutwhose aid we should probably have taken at least three times as long tocomplete the journey. But the wiliest of Yakute postmasters was no matchfor our Cossack, whose energetic measures on previous trips had gainedhim the nickname of _Tchort_ (or "the devil") on the Verkhoyansk track. And a devil he was when drivers lagged, or reindeer were not quicklyforthcoming at the end of a stage!

There are two routes from Yakutsk to Sredni-Kolymsk, near the ArcticOcean, which was now our objective point. These cannot be called roads, or even tracks, for beyond Verkhoyansk (which is only one-third of thedistance) the traveller must depend almost entirely upon his compass andthe stars. The oldest route to the Kolyma is now very seldom used, although Von Wrangell travelled over it in the early part of thenineteenth century. On this occasion the Russian explorer avoidedVerkhoyansk, and, proceeding some distance south of the route weselected, passed through the ruined, and now deserted, town ofZashiversk. By Stepan's advice we chose the Verkhoyansk route, as beingthe one best known to the Cossack, for it is the one by which politicalexiles invariably travel. Politicals, Cossacks, and natives alone visitthese desolate northern wastes, unless it be a special mission like oursor that of Dr. Herz. The Governor of Yakutsk had held his post fornearly twenty years, and yet had never summoned the courage to visiteven Verkhoyansk. Nor could any of his officials advise me, frompersonal experience, which road to select, although their remarks on thesubject recalled the darkie's advice to the cyclist as to the best oftwo pathways across a swamp: "Whichebber one you travels, Boss, I guessyou'll be d----d sorry you didn't take de udder!"

Horses were used for the first three stages out of Yakutsk, along anarrow track through the forests, vaguely indicated by blazed trees. Itwas anything but pleasant travelling, for our light _nartas_ werespecially adapted to the smooth, level stride of the reindeer, and theponies whisked them about like match-boxes, occasionally dashing themwith unpleasant force against a tree-trunk. It was, therefore, a reliefto reach Hatutatskaya on the second day, and to find there thirty orforty sturdy reindeer tethered around the station. The method ofharnessing this animal is peculiar. Each sled is drawn by four deer, twoabreast. In front of the four wheeler is a kind of miniature sled, orplatform on runners, on which the driver sits to control the two leadersin front of him. There are no reins, the entire team being managed by athong attached to the off-leader, and the traces are secured by a loopround the neck, and inside the outer leg of each deer. The lattercarried no bells, and although it may sound childish to say so, wemissed their music terribly at first. The driver is armed with a longpole, which, however, he seldom uses, for, if the Yakute has a virtue, it is kindness to animals. A plaintive cry, which sounds like "_yahee_, "is uttered to urge on a team, and it generally has the desired effect, for the Siberian reindeer is the gamest animal in the world. I have seenthem working incessantly day after day, growing weaker hour by hour, andyet bravely struggling on until the poor little beasts would fall to theground from sheer exhaustion, never to rise again. We lost many duringthe long and trying journey to the Arctic, and I shall always recalltheir deaths with a keen pang of remorse. For their gentle, docilenature made it the more pitiable to see them perish, as we lookedhelplessly on, unable to alleviate their agony, yet conscious that itwas for our sake they had suffered and died. 

The distance from Yakutsk to Verkhoyansk is 934 versts, or about 625English miles. Most of the way lies through a densely wooded region andacross deep swamps, almost impassable in summer. About half-way theVerkhoyansk range is crossed, and here vegetation ceases and the countrybecomes wild in the extreme. Forests of pine, larch, and cedardisappear, to give place to rugged peaks and bleak, desolate valleys, strewn with huge boulders, and slippery with frozen streams, whichretard progress, for a reindeer on ice is like a cat on walnut-shells. The _stancias_, as the deer-stations are called, are here from forty tosixty versts apart. There are no towns in this region, or even villagesin our sense of the word, for a couple of dilapidated huts generallyconstitute the latter in the eyes of the Yakute. As for the _stancias_they were beyond description. I had imagined that nothing could be worsethan a Lena post-house, but the latter were luxurious compared to thenative _yurta_, which is merely a log-hut plastered with mud. You entera low, narrow aperture, the door of which is thickly padded with felt, and find yourself in a low dark room considerably below the surroundingground, with a floor of beaten mud, slippery with the filth of years, and windows of ice. The walls are of mud-plastered logs, also theceiling, which would seriously inconvenience a six-foot man. As soon asthe eye grows accustomed to the gloom you find that a rough wooden benchsurrounds the apartment, and that one portion of it is strewn with wetand filthy straw. This is for the guests. When it was occupied we slepton the floor, and there was little difference, except that cattle alsoshared the _stancia_, and were apt to walk over us during the night. Afire of pine-logs was kept blazing on the clay hearth night and day, andthe heat was sometimes so overpowering that we suffered almost as muchfrom it as from the deadly cold outside. But the stench was even worseto endure, especially when cooking operations were in progress, for theYakute will not look at fresh pure meat. He prefers it in a conditionthat would repel a civilised dog, and the odour that used to emanatefrom a mass of putrid deer-meat, or, worse still, tainted fish, simmering on the embers, is better left to the imagination. At first wesuffered severely from nausea in these unsavoury shelters, and therewere other reasons for this which cannot here be explained. Suffice itto say that it was a constant source of wonder to me that even thisdegraded race of beings could live amidst such bestial surroundings andyet survive. Vermin had up till now been a trifling inconvenience, butthousands on the Lena were here succeeded by myriads of the foe, and, for a time, our health suffered from the incessant irritation, whichcaused us many days of misery and nights of unrest. Stepan told me thatin summer the _stancias_ were unapproachable, and this I could wellbelieve seeing that we were often driven out of them during dry andintense cold. But in the open season only Cossacks attempt to travelthrough with the mail to Verkhoyansk, once each way. The journey, whichis made on horseback, is a perilous one, owing to unfordable rivers anddangerous swamps, and the mail carriers are occasionally drowned, orlost in the marshy deserts, where they perish of starvation. Stepanhad once made the summer trip, and sincerely hoped he might never haveto repeat the experiment. 

Travellers on this road are luckily rare, so that the post-houses seldomcontained any guests besides ourselves. The _stancias_ were crowdedenough as it was with the Yakute postmaster and his generally numerousand disgusting family, several deer-drivers, and perhaps two or threecows crowded into a space of about thirty feet square. We travelledthroughout the twenty-four hours, and only stopped at these placessufficiently long to thaw out some food and swallow a meal. The_stancias_ were too far apart to work on a schedule, and we generallyleft one rest-house with very vague notions as to when we should see thenext. On one occasion we were compelled to lay-to in a storm foreighteen hours (although the _stancia_ was only a couple of miles away), and to subsist during that time on chocolate and black bread, frozen tothe consistency of iron. [26] But luckily the weather was, on the whole, favourable. Most of the nights were clear, and at first there was abright moon, which was also an advantage, although at times our way laythrough forests so deep and dark that it became necessary to use lights. We left Paris supplied with an elaborate electric outfit, which now, andin after-days, would have been a godsend, but the lamps and cumbersomebatteries had to be abandoned with our other stores at Moscow. Probablythe cold would have rendered the wires useless, at any rate I consoledmyself by thinking so. 

[Footnote 26: On such occasions Christy's "Kola Chocolate" isinvaluable. ]

Two days' hard travelling brought us to Tandinskaya. This is the best_stancia_ on the road, and we therefore seized the opportunity to make agood, substantial meal and snatch a few hours' sleep before proceedingto the next rest-house, which was nearly a hundred miles distant. AtTandinskaya we changed teams, successfully resenting the extortionatecharges made by the postmaster. All the _stancias_ on this road areleased by the Government to Yakute peasants, who are legally entitled toreceive three kopeks a verst for every pair of deer. This sum includespost-house accommodation, such as it is; but as we always added a roubleor two for the use of these filthy hovels, Stepan was the more incensedat this postmaster's rascality. The latter claimed payment for aboutfifty versts more than we had actually covered, so Stepan averred, although the distances north of Yakutsk are very vague, and the Cossackwas probably wrong. It was amusing to compare the mileage as given inthe only post-book of this road (compiled in the reign of the EmpressCatherine) with the real distances, which were invariably twice as long. The officials of those days probably reflected that, if three kopeksmust be paid for a verst, the latter had better be a long one. And theYakute, knowing no better, suffered in silence. 

On leaving Tandinskaya, we travelled some miles along the river Aldan, atributary of the Lena, which is dangerous in winter on account ofnumerous overflows. Our drivers, therefore, proceeded with caution, walking some distance ahead of the sleds, and frequently sounding theice with their long poles. It was bitterly cold, for a breeze wasblowing in our faces, and the deer, as usual, slipped and slithered inall directions, continually upsetting the sleds. This became such acommon occurrence that, after a couple of days, we took it as a matterof course, and I would often awaken from a nap inside the hood to findmyself proceeding face downwards, the sled having overturned. But thedriver would merely halt the team and replace the _narta_, with itshelpless inmate, on its runners, with the indifference of a childplaying with a toy horse and cart. Luckily the deer never attempted tobolt on these occasions, but waited patiently until their burthen wasplaced "right side up. "

To-day the wind became more boisterous, and the cold consequently morepiercing every mile we travelled. We had left Tandinskaya about ten atnight, and towards morning Stepan calculated that we had covered twentymiles in seven hours. The stars had now disappeared, and snow wasfalling fast, also the wind had risen to a gale, which percolated thefelt hoods and furs like a stream of iced water. At daybreak the weatherturned to a blizzard, which raged for twenty-four hours and nearlyburied us in snow; but when the storm lulled a bit we struggledpainfully on for about fifteen miles, and hailed the sight of a_povarnia_ with delight, for it meant, at any rate, shelter and a fire. _Povarnias_ are merely mud-huts erected at intervals along the track, when the _stancias_ are long distances apart. They are dark, uninhabitedhovels, generally half full of snow, and open to the winds, and yetthese crazy shelters have saved many a traveller from death by cold andexposure on this lonely road. A _povarnia_ contains no furniturewhatever; merely a clay hearth and some firewood which previoustravellers have left there, perhaps weeks before. For on leaving theseplaces every one is expected to cut fuel ready for those who come after. Sanga-Ali was the _povarnia_ we had now reached, and it was almostblocked by snow which had drifted in through the open doorway. But weset to with a will, and were soon crouching over a good fire on which apot of deer-meat was fragrantly simmering. Here we remained until earlynext morning, taking it in turns to pile on fresh logs, for when theflame waned for an instant the cold became so intense that to sleep init without a fire might have had unpleasant results. 

Sordonnakia, the second _povarnia_, was reached after a journey of ninehours, by which time the weather had again become still and clear. Fortunately, bright calm days prevailed south of Verkhoyansk, althoughin mid-winter these are the realms of eternal darkness. But in our casespring was approaching, and on fine mornings I could throw open my_narta_ and bask in warm sunshine while contemplating a sky of sapphireand smoking a cigar--one of the last, alas! I was likely to enjoy onthis side of America. On such days the pure frosty air would exhilaratelike champagne, and there was only one drawback to perfect enjoyment:the body would be baked on one side by the scorching rays, and frozen inthe shade on the other. Another inconvenience was hunger, for there wasnever more than one square meal in the twenty-four hours, and often notthat, and nothing resists cold like a well-lined stomach. Our sufferingswere undoubtedly great from Yakutsk to the Arctic Ocean, but they weregreatly alleviated by the fact that it was generally possible, even inthe coldest weather, to enjoy a cigarette under cover of the hood. Apipe was, of course, out of the question, for the temperature (evenunder the felt covering) was never over 10° below zero, which would haveinstantly blocked the stem with frozen nicotine. But a Russian_papirosh_ could always be enjoyed in peace, if not comfort, out of thewind, and I have derived relief through many an hour of misery throughtheir soothing influence. 

A brief halt only was made at Sordonnakia, for the _povarnia_ had beenleft in such a disgusting state by its last occupants that we werecompelled to eat in our sleds. The fifty versts between this place andthe _stancia_ of Beté-Kul were rapidly accomplished, and during thisstage we came in sight of the Verkhoyansk range, a chain of precipitousmountains which would form one of the chief stumbling-blocks to theconstruction of the proposed All-World Railway. If the Paris-New Yorkline is ever laid it will probably not run through Verkhoyansk. Thedirection would rather be east direct from Yakutsk to the Okhotsk Seaalthough that is also mountainous enough. Nearing Beté-Kul the landscapebecame yet wilder and more desolate, and we travelled along valleys ofdeep snow and across dark, lonely gorges, the depths of which even abrilliant sunshine could not penetrate. What this region may be like insummer-time I know not, but in winter the surface of the moon itselfcould scarcely present a more silent, spectral appearance. 

At Beté-Kul we were kept some time waiting for reindeer, which had to bebrought in from a considerable distance. Deer generally take somefinding, as they stray sometimes fifteen or twenty miles from a_stancia_ in search of moss, but, in our case, long delays had beenavoided by the Cossack who preceded us. The _stancia_ at Beté-Kul waskept by a more prosperous-looking Yakute than usual, and his wife wasattired in bright silks and wore a profusion of massive gold jewellery. The Yakutes are expert goldsmiths, but chiefly excel in the manufactureof arms, especially a kind of _yataghan_, or huge dagger, which is stuckinto the waistband. Yakute steel is much more flexible than Russian, although I have seen a knife made out of the former sever a copper coinas neatly as though it were a meat-lozenge. 

We shared the postmaster's meal at Beté-Kul, and were introduced to apeculiar dish, which deserves mention as showing the extraordinarydigestive powers of these people. It was a kind of jelly extracted fromreindeer-horns and flavoured with the bark of the pine tree, which isscraped into a fine powder for the purpose. I was fated to subsist inafter days on disgusting diet of the most varied description, but tothis day the recollection of that Beté-Kul jelly produces a faintfeeling of nausea, although I can recall other ghoulish repasts of rawseal-meat with comparative equanimity. Pure melted butter formed thesecond course of this Yakute _déjeuner_, each guest being expected tofinish a large bowl. Stepan, however, alone partook of this temptingdish, but he merely sipped it, while our host and his wife drained thehot, oily mess as though it had been cold water. But Yakutes willconsume any quantity of butter in this condition. Dobell, the explorer, says that a moderate Yakute butter-drinker will consume from twenty tothirty pounds at a sitting. The same traveller adds that "at other timesthese natives drink butter as a medicine, and declare it excellent forcarrying away the bile. " This was written nearly one hundred years ago, and it is curious to note that the most modern European treatment forgall-stones should now be olive oil, given in large quantities, presumably to produce a similar effect to that obtained by the butter ofthe Yakute. By the time this weird meal was over the deer had arrived, and I declined our host's offer of a pipe of Circassian tobacco, whichwould probably have finished me off completely. Both sexes here smoke atiny Chinese pipe, with bronze bowl and wooden stem, which half a dozenwhiffs suffice to finish. The stem is made to open so that the nicotinemay be collected, mixed with wood shavings, and smoked again. 

We left Beté-Kul at four in the morning, intending, if possible, tocross the mountains during the day, but the pass had lately been blockedwith snow and the natives reported it in a terrible condition. But timewould admit of no delay and I resolved to make the attempt at allhazards. Anna-sook, a miserable little _povarnia_ near the foot of themountain, was reached after a journey of five hours. The hut was, asusual, full of drifted snow, which we had to remove before breakfastingin an atmosphere of 12° below zero, upon which a roaring fire made noappreciable impression. Oddly enough, in this deserted shanty we cameupon the sole sign of life which we had encountered (outside of the_stancias_) all the way from Yakutsk. This was a tiny field-mouse, whichhad survived the Arctic winter, curled up in a little mound of earth ina corner of this cold, dark shanty. The poor little half-frozen thingcould scarcely move, but we gathered some fir-boughs and made it a nest, and left with it a goodly supply of biscuit-crumbs, which it devouredwith avidity and a grateful look in its beady black eyes. 

Starting at midday we commenced the ascent of the mountain, which iscrossed by probably the most remarkable pass in the world. From adistance it looked as though a perpendicular wall of ice, some hundredsof feet in height, must be scaled in order to gain the summit. Beforeascending, the iron horse shoes brought from Yakutsk were fastened toour moccasins, ostensibly to afford secure foothold, but I discardedthese awkward appendages after they had given me five or six bad falls, and my companions did likewise. About two hours of severe work, increased by deep snow and the rarefied atmosphere, brought us to thesummit, the reindeer and sleds ascending by a longer but much lessprecipitous route. During the ascent there were places where a slip musthave meant a dangerous, if not fatal, fall, for midway up a precipice ofover a thousand feet was crossed by a slippery ledge of ice about threefeet in width. Looking down on the northward side, a frozen snow-slope, about a mile in length, was so steep, that it seemed impossible todescend it without personal injury. We awaited the sleds for nearlythree hours on the summit, almost perished with cold in a temperature ofnearly 45° below zero, accompanied by a strong breeze which resembledone described by a friend of the writer, a Chantilly trainer, as a lazywind, viz. , one that prefers to go straight through the body instead ofthe longest way round. To descend, the deer were fastened behind thesleds, which we all held back as much as possible as they dashed downthe incline. But nearing the valley the pace increased until all controlwas lost, and we landed in a deep snow-drift half-way down, men, deer, and sleds being muddled up in inextricable confusion. I rememberthinking at the time what a fortune such a snow-slide would make for itsproprietor at Earl's Court. Imagine an "ice chute" more than a mile inlength. To stand upright was even now, half-way down the mountain, outof the question, so the rest of the perilous descent was ignominiouslyaccomplished on all-fours. We reached the valley in safety, followed bythe sleds, which were now restrained only by drivers and deer. Frombelow they looked like flies crawling down a white wall. At this pointthe Verkhoyansk mountains are about 4500 ft. Above the level of the sea. 

Leaving the mountains we were soon lost in the forests again, and fromhere to Kangerak, the first station on the northern side of the range, the journey is one of wondrous beauty, for the country strikinglyresembles Swiss Alpine scenery. In cloudless weather we glided swiftlyand silently under arches of pine-boughs sparkling with hoar-frost, nowskirting a dizzy precipice, now crossing a deep, dark gorge, rare riftsin the woods disclosing glimpses of snowy crag and summit glitteringagainst a sky of cloudless blue. The sunny pastures and tinklingcow-bells of lovely Switzerland were wanting, but I can never forget theimpressive grandeur of those desolate peaks, nor the weird, unearthlystillness of the lonely, pine-clad valleys at their feet. 

We passed a comfortable night at Kangerak, for the long, fatiguing dayhad rendered us oblivious to the attacks of the vermin with which the_stancia_ swarmed. My ears had been badly frost-bitten crossing the passand caused me great pain, but I slept soundly, and so did my companionswho had escaped scot-free. Only one circumstance marred my satisfactionat having successfully negotiated the pass; three of our deer hadperished from exhaustion. From Kangerak we travelled some distance alongthe river Yana, which scatters itself into a series of lakes on eitherside of the main stream. There are dangerous overflows here, and twicewe narrowly escaped a ducking, or perhaps a worse fate, although I fancythe river at this point is very shallow. Nevertheless I heard afterwardsat Verkhoyansk that whole caravans, travellers, drivers and deer haveoccasionally been fatally submerged here, or frozen to death after theirimmersion. Our deer, as usual, fell about on the ice in all directions, and one, breaking its leg, had to be destroyed. The stage was a hardone, so much so that we halted at a _povarnia_ (Mollahoi) for the night. Towards morning I was awakened by the stifling heat and a disgustingodour due to the fact that our drivers had discovered a dead horse inthe neighbourhood and were cooking and discussing its remains. Stepanopined that the animal had expired some weeks previously, and I couldwell believe it. A couple of hours before reaching Mollahoi, Hardingcaught sight of some ptarmigan within a few yards of the track. Imention the fact as this was the only game we came across throughout thewhole of the journey of nearly three months from Yakutsk to the ArcticOcean. 

When the _stancia_ of Siremskaya was reached on February 27, I realisedwith intense satisfaction that the journey, at any rate as far asVerkhoyansk, was practically over. For if this portion of the voyage hadbeen successfully overcome in so short a time why should not theremainder as far as Sredni-Kolymsk be accomplished with equal facility?

And so we travelled on from Siremskaya with renewed hopes and in thebest of spirits, although nearing Verkhoyansk the cold becameintense--strong gales and heavy snowstorms prevailed--and we allsuffered severely. Indeed once Clinchamp was carried out of his sled andinto the _povarnia_, a journey of twenty consecutive hours havingtemporarily deprived him of the use of his limbs. The thermometer hadmarked 40° below zero even inside my closely covered sled, and one of myfeet was also badly frozen, owing, however, to my carelessness inneglecting to change my foot-gear the previous night, for if this is notdone the perspiration formed during the day congeals, during sleep, intosolid ice. Harding escaped any ill effects, but in truth, although Ihave said little about physical sufferings, most of that journey wasterrible work. I got into a way at last of classifying the variousstages of frigidity on departure from a _stancia_, and this was theirorder: (1) the warm; (2) the chilly; and (3) the glacial. The firststage of comparative comfort was due to the effect of a fire and warmfood and generally lasted for two or three hours. In stage No. 2, onegradually commenced to feel chilly with shivers down the back and asensation of numbness in the extremities. No. 3 stage was one of rapidlyincreasing cold, until the face was covered by a thin mask of ice formedby the breath during the short intervals of sleep, or rather stupor. Theawakening was the most painful part of it all, and when the time came tostagger into some filthy _stancia_, I would have often preferred tosleep on in the sled, although such an imprudence might have entailedthe loss of a limb. 

At last one bright morning in dazzling sunshine we reached Verkhoyansk, having made the journey from Yakutsk in eight days, a record trip underany circumstances, especially so under the adverse conditions underwhich we had travelled. I had looked forward to this place as a haven ofwarmth and rest, and perhaps of safety from the perilous blizzards thatof late had obstructed our progress, but the sight of that desolatevillage, with its solitary row of filthy hovels, inspired such feelingsof aversion and depression that my one object was to leave the place assoon as possible, even for the unknown perils and privations which mightlie beyond it. It was absolutely necessary, however, to obtain freshreindeer here, and a stay of at least a couple of days was compulsory. What we saw, therefore, and did in Verkhoyansk will be described in thefollowing chapter. 

CHAPTER VI

VERKHOYANSK

Loyal Russians call Verkhoyansk the heart of Siberia. Political exileshave another name for the place also commencing with the letter H, whichI leave to the reader's imagination. Suffice it to say that it appliesto a locality where the climate is presumably warmer than here. Anywaythe simile is probably incorrect, as there are many worse places ofbanishment than Verkhoyansk, although, indeed, the latter is bad enough. For if prosperous villages near the borders of Europe impress theuntrammelled Briton with a sense of unbearable loneliness, conceive thefeelings of a Russian exile upon first beholding the squalid Arctic homeand repulsive natives amongst whom he is destined, perhaps, to end hisdays. Forty or fifty mud-plastered log huts in various stages of decayand half buried in snow-drifts over which ice windows peer mournfully, awooden church pushed by time and climate out of the perpendicular, withbroken spire and golden crosses mouldering with rust--on the one hand, adismal plain of snow fringed on the horizon by a dark pine forest; onthe other, the frozen river Yana, across which an icy breeze moansmournfully--such is Verkhoyansk as we saw it on the morning of February28, 1902. I thought that a more gloomy, God-forsaken spot than thiscould not exist on the face of the earth. But I had not seenSredni-Kolymsk. And yet, if we were here forty-eight hours and it seemeda lifetime, what must an enforced sojourn of five or six years mean tothe unhappy exiles, some of whom had been here for a quarter of acentury. Let the reader imagine, if possible, the blank despair ofexistence under such conditions; day after day, year after year, nothingto do or look at of interest, tortured by heat and mosquitoes in summer, perished by cold and hunger in the dark, cruel winter, and cut off ascompletely as a corpse from all that makes life worth living. An exilehere told me that the church was his only link with humanity, for itrecalled other sacred buildings in which loved ones were worshipping, far away in the busy world of freedom. One could imagine a man entirelylosing his identity after a few years here and forgetting that he wasever a human being. In truth Yakutsk was bad enough; but Yakutsk, compared to Verkhoyansk, is a little Paris. And yet, I repeat, this isby no means the worst place of banishment in North-Eastern Siberia. 

The _ispravnik_ received us in the official grey and scarlet, remindingme that even in this remote corner of the Empire a traveller is wellwithin reach of Petersburg and the secret police. But we found inMonsieur Katcherofsky a gentleman and not a jailer, like too many of hisclass, whose kindness and hospitality to the miserable survivors of theArctic exploring ship _Jeannette_, some years ago, was suitably rewardedby the President of the United States. [27] Katcherofsky's invaluableservices for twenty years past might also have met, by now, with somesubstantial recognition at the hands of the Russian Government, for amore honest, conscientious and universally popular official is not to befound throughout the dominions of the Tsar. 

[Footnote 27: The U. S. Arctic exploring steamer _Jeannette_ was crushedin the ice and sank on June 12, 1881, in the Arctic Ocean, some hundredsof miles N. -E. Of the mouth of the Lena river. Captain de Long and hisparty, in three ship's boats, made their way over and through the icetowards the Lena delta, but one of the boats (under Lieut. Chipp)foundered with all hands. Another one, commanded by Chief Engineer (nowAdmiral) Melville, reached the Siberian coast and found the natives andsalvation, but Captain de Long and his crew landed on the Lena delta, and being unable to find a settlement or procure food, his entire party, consisting of twelve persons, perished, after horrible sufferings, ofexposure and starvation. The bodies were eventually found by Melville, and conveyed to America for interment. ]

The _ispravnik's_ house, or rather hut, was no better, within orwithout, than others in Verkhoyansk, which consists of one street, orrather straggling avenue of mud hovels with ice windows and the usuallow entrance guarded by a felt-covered door. The entire population doesnot exceed four hundred souls, of whom, perhaps, half were Yakutes andthe remainder officials, Russian settlers and political exiles. Talkingof exiles, I have found that, as a rule, very erroneous impressionsexist in England as to the conditions under which they are sent toSiberia, a country which has often been greatly maligned by the EnglishPress. For this great prison-land is not always one of dungeons andlifelong incarceration. The latter certainly awaits the activerevolutionist, but, on the other hand, an erring journalist may, for an"imprudent" paragraph, be sent to vegetate for only a couple of monthswithin sight of the Urals. As Gilbert's "Mikado" would say, "thepunishment fits the crime. " And in the towns of Western Siberia I havefrequently met men originally banished for a short term who, rather thanreturn to Russia, have elected to remain in a land where living ischeaper, and money more easily gained than at home. Olenin, of Yakutsk, was a case in point. 

The exile of State offenders to Siberia is generally carried out by whatis called the "Administrative Process, " or, in other words, by a secrettribunal composed of civil and military members. There are no Pressreports of the trial, which is held strictly _in camera_, and, as arule, a political "suspect" vanishes as completely from the face of theearth as a pebble cast into the sea. Usually the blow fallsunexpectedly. A man may be seated quietly at home with his family, inhis office, or at some place of public entertainment when the fataltouch on the shoulder summonses him away, perhaps for ever. The sentenceonce passed, there is no appeal to a higher court, nor can a prisonerhold any communication whatever with the outer world. An exile'srelatives, therefore, when ignorant of his fate, frequently ascribe hisabsence to voluntary motives, and years sometimes elapse before thetruth is known. In some cases it never reaches his family, and theharassing thought that he is, perhaps, regarded by the latter as aheartless deserter has driven many a victim of the "AdministrativeProcess" to self-destruction. 

A term of imprisonment varying from six months to two years in aEuropean fortress invariably precedes a term of exile, and this ruleapplies to both sexes. There are hundreds of towns and villagesthroughout Siberia where men and women are domiciled for various periodsof their existence, but as we are now dealing only with the remotersettlements within the Arctic Circle we will follow the footsteps of apolitical exile deported to, say, Verkhoyansk. From the forwardingprison at Moscow to the city of Irkutsk in Eastern Siberia, politicalsnot sent by rail travel with a criminal gang, wear prison dress, andlive practically the same as ordinary convicts. At night time, however, in the _étapes_[28] a separate cell is set apart for their use. Onarrival at Irkutsk prison-dress is discarded, and an exile may wear hisown clothes, although he remains under lock and key and in close chargeof the Cossack who is responsible for his safe delivery. In summer-timethe two-thousand-miles' journey to the first stage northwards, Yakutsk, is made by river-steamer, but during the winter months this wearyjourney must be accomplished in uncovered sleighs, and is one of greatseverity and privation, especially for women. At Yakutsk reindeer-sledgeconveys the ill-assorted pair ever northwards for another six hundredmiles to Verkhoyansk. The reader has seen the difficulties which weexperienced crossing the mountains, where delicate women on their way toexile are compelled to clamber unassisted over giddy places that wouldtry the nerves of an experienced mountaineer. I should add that womennever travel alone with a Cossack, but are always accompanied on thejourney by another exile, either a man or one of their own sex. In theformer case, an acquaintance is occasionally made which ends in alife-long _liaison_, if not marriage. Every year from three to six"politicals" arrive in each of the settlements north of Yakutsk. 

[Footnote 28: Rest-houses for convict gangs along the great post-road. ]

An empty hut was set apart for our use: a tumble-down _yurta_ of mudwith the usual ice-windows, which necessitated the use of candles evenon the brightest day. But it contained two rooms and a kitchen, and wasweather-proof, so we lived in comparative luxury. Meals were providedfor us at Katcherofsky's hospitable board, and on the evening of ourarrival we sat down to a supper to which the kind-hearted old_ispravnik_ had invited several "politicals. " And here, for the secondtime, I witnessed the incongruous sight of a Chief of Police amicablyhobnobbing with the exiles in his custody. And when one of the latterremarked at table, "I can always feel cheerful in Katcherofsky's house, _even in Verkhoyansk_, " I could well believe that our genial andgood-natured host was looked upon more in the light of a friend than aguardian by both men and women of the free command. It was a strange butenjoyable evening, and the _menu_ of delicious _sterlet_ brought fromthe Lena, roast venison, and ice-cream, accompanied by a very fairchampagne, was hardly one which you would expect to find in these frozenwastes. Coffee and _nalivka_, a liquor made of the wild raspberrieswhich grow freely around here, concluded the last decent repast we werelikely to enjoy for some months to come. Only one displeasing memory doI retain of that otherwise pleasant supper-party: I smoked my lastcigar!

There were under a dozen exiles in all here, of whom two were women. Oneof the latter was my neighbour at supper;--Madame Abramovitch, a fragilelittle woman, whom delicate features and dark, expressive eyes wouldhave rendered beautiful, had not years of mental and physical sufferingaged and hardened the almost girlish face. Abramovitch, her husband, atall, fine-looking man of Jewish type, was only thirty-two years old, but his life since the age of twenty-one had been passed in captivityeither in Russian prisons or as an exile in Siberia. Abramovitch and hiswife were shortly to be released, and it was pathetic to hear thembabble like children about their approaching freedom, and of how theywould revel in the sight of Warsaw, and enjoy its restaurants andtheatres, and even a ride in the electric cars! I visited them next dayin their dark and miserable home, which, however, was scrupulouslyclean, and we drank tea and discussed people and events in distantEurope far into the night. And Madame sang Polish love-songs in a sweet, pathetic voice, and I recounted one or two American yarns in Yankeevernacular which excited inordinate gaiety, so easily amused were thesepoor souls with minds dulled by long years of lethargy and despair. AndI wondered, as I glanced around the squalid room, how many years hadelapsed since its mud-walls had last echoed to the sounds of genuinelaughter!

Abramovitch and his wife spoke French fluently, the former also English. But two-thirds of the political exiles I met throughout the journeyspoke two, and sometimes three, languages besides their own, whileGerman was universal. In most cases the exiles had taught themselves, often under the most adverse conditions, in the gloomy cell of somePolish fortress or the damp and twilit casemates of SS. Peter and Paul. Most exiles make it a rule on their banishment to take up some subject, history, chemistry, natural science, &c. , otherwise insanity would befar more prevalent amongst them than it is. At Verkhoyansk books areoccasionally obtainable, but further north their scarcity formed aserious drawback to study and mental recreation. Even at Verkhoyansk thecensure on literature is very strict, and works on social science andkindred subjects are strictly tabooed by the authorities. On the otherhand almost any kind of novel in any language may be read, so long as itdoes not refer in any way to the Russian Government and its methods. Atthe time of our visit "Quo Vadis" was on everybody's lips, and thesolitary copy had been read and re-read into rags, although it had onlybeen a month in the settlement. Dickens, Thackeray, Zola, and AnthonyHope were favourite authors, but whole pages were missing from most ofthe volumes in the tiny library, and the books were otherwise mutilated, not by carelessness or ill usage, but by incessant use. 

I closely questioned Abramovitch as to the conditions of life atVerkhoyansk and he said that so far as the treatment of the exiles wasconcerned there was nothing to complain of, but the miserable pittanceallowed by the Government for the lodging and maintenance of each exilewas, he justly averred, totally inadequate where even the commonnecessaries of life cost fabulous prices. Apparently this allowancevaries in the various districts; thus, at Verkhoyansk it is eighteenroubles, at Viluisk, south of Yakutsk, only twelve! Fortunately, deer-meat is fairly cheap here, but all other provisions areoutrageously dear. Flour, for instance, costs twenty-five kopeks orabout 6_d. _ per pound, milk (in a frozen condition) five kopeks or about3_d. _ per pound, but the latter is bought from the Yakutes, and isgenerally in a filthy and undrinkable condition. Tea and sugar are sodear that the former is boiled over and over again, but Abramovitch saidthat he suffered more from the loss of light than anything else, forcandles (or rather tallow dips) cost a rouble a pound. My friend wastherefore reduced to the dim light shed by the flickering logs of hisfire throughout the dreary winter, when daylight disappears for twomonths. And even in summer time there is no way of eking out the slendersum allowed for existence, which must suffice for lodging and clothes aswell as food. Poultry does not exist, the Yana yields few fish, and thesoil stubbornly refuses to produce vegetables even of the hardiest kind. By dint of ceaseless care Katcherofsky had contrived to grow a fewwatery potatoes, which were served at table with as much ostentation asearly strawberries or asparagus in England; but the experiment was not asuccess. The _ispravnik_ had also tried cabbages, with a similar result. This seems strange, seeing that Yakutsk, only six hundred miles furthersouth, is a fertile land of plenty, but an exile told me that even inmidsummer the forests around Verkhoyansk appear withered and grey, thevery grass seems colourless, and the daisies and violets scentlessimmortelles. This sterility of nature seems to be confined to a radiusof about twenty miles of Verkhoyansk, for beyond this arid circle treesflourish, grass grows freely as far as the timber line, while beyond itthe _tundra_, from May until August, is gaily carpeted with wildflowers. 

Verkhoyansk is not unhealthy. The worst season of the year is in autumn, when dense mists from the river Yana often shroud the place for daystogether. Bronchitis and rheumatism are then very prevalent, also a kindof epidemic catarrh, which, however, was not confined to the fall of theyear, but was raging at the time of our visit. Of this fact we hadunpleasant proof, as a couple of days after leaving the place the wholeexpedition (except Stepan) were attacked with this troublesomecomplaint, which, in my case, was only cured on arrival in America. Ifancy this disease was closely allied to that which attacked Admiral VonWrangell's party early in the nineteenth century. [29] But all thingsconsidered, summer is the most trying season here, not only on accountof the heat, which is far greater than that of Yakutsk, but of themosquitoes, which make their appearance before the snow is off theground and do not disappear until late in the fall. The exiles said thatthey were often deprived of sleep for nights together on account ofthese pests, which swarm in and out of doors, and inflict a nastypoisonous bite. Children had died from the fever produced from theirritation and consequent sleeplessness. This, and continual (andtherefore distressing) daylight, made the advent of winter, even withall its cold and darkness, a welcome one. For this season also bringsanother blessing to these poor outcasts, news from home, which reacheshere once a month by reindeer-sledge, whereas in summer a mail is onlyonce despatched from Yakutsk, and frequently fails to arrive at itsdestination. [30]

[Footnote 29: In 1820 Von Wrangell wrote: "During my stay in Verkhoyanska kind of epidemic catarrhal fever prevailed throughout the district;the symptoms were violent depression of the chest, noise in the ears, headache, etc.... A Cossack whom I had previously sent forward with mypapers died of the epidemic; every one was more or less ill. "]

[Footnote 30: The telegraph wire ceases at Yakutsk. ]

In addition to his literary pursuits Mr. Abramovitch had kept a recordof the temperature during his term of exile, and the result of hiscareful observations for a period of twelve years was as follows: Meantemperature for the whole year, 4° below zero Fahrenheit. In hardwinters the thermometer was frequently 75° below zero, and once touchedthe almost incredible point of 81° below zero. During our stay only 65°below zero was registered, but at the first _stancia_, two hundred milesnorth of Verkhoyansk, we experienced 78° below zero, a cold so intensethat the breath froze as it left our lips and fell in a white powder tothe ground. And yet, I can assure the reader that I have suffered morefrom cold in Piccadilly on a damp, chilly November day than in thecoldest weather in this part of Siberia. For the atmosphere here isgenerally dry and does not permeate the frame like that of our sea-girt, foggy island. Also, during extreme cold there is never any wind, andthis is fortunate, for although 60° or 70° below zero are quitebearable in stillness, 30° or 40° higher, accompanied by only a moderategale, would probably kill every living thing before it. A few weekslater, when we reached the Arctic Ocean, the approach of a gale wasalways preceded by a rising thermometer, and clear, cold weather by afall of the same. 

At Verkhoyansk, as at Yakutsk, nothing met me but difficulties, and the_ispravnik_ implored me to abandon the journey. Sredni-Kolymsk, he said, was twelve hundred miles away, and with weak reindeer it might take us acouple of months to reach the Tsar's remotest settlement. This wouldbring us into early May, and about the first week in June the thawcomes, and travelling is impossible. And even at Sredni-Kolymsk anothertwo thousand miles of wild and desolate country, almost bereft ofinhabitants, would lie between us and Bering Straits. Not onlyKatcherofsky but the exiles begged me to abandon the journey, if not formy own sake, for that of my companions. It was unfair, they urged, todrive men to almost certain death. Altogether I don't think I shall everforget the hours of anxiety I passed at Verkhoyansk. Should we advanceor should we retreat was a question which I alone had the power todecide, and one which Providence eventually settled for me with thehappiest results. Nevertheless, even in the dark days which followed, when lost in the blinding blizzards of Tchaun Bay, or exposed to thedrunken fury of the Tchuktchis on Bering Straits, I have seldom passed amore unpleasant and harassing period of my existence than those two daysunder the care of Ivan Katcherofsky, Chief of Police of Verkhoyansk, North-Eastern Siberia. 

[Illustration: THE CHIEF OF POLICE, VERKHOYANSK. ]

But notwithstanding adverse pressure on all sides I resolved to burn myboats, and push on, although well aware that, Verkhoyansk once leftbehind us, there would be no retreat. And it is only fair to add that mycompanions were just as keen on an advance as their leader. The_ispravnik_, seeing that further argument was useless, shrugged hisshoulders and solely occupied himself with cramming the sledges full ofinteresting looking baskets and bottles. And on the bright sunlitmorning of March 2 we left Verkhoyansk, our departure being witnessed byour kindly old host and all the exiles. Our course this time was in anorth-easterly direction towards the shores of the frozen sea. Beforethe start a pathetic little incident occurred which is indeliblyphotographed on my memory. My small supply of reading matter comprised a"_Daily Mail_ Year Book, " and although very loth to part with this I hadnot the heart to take it away from a young exile who had becomeengrossed in its contents. For the work contained matters of interestwhich are usually blacked out by the censor. "I shall learn it all off, Mr. De Windt, " said the poor fellow, as the Chief of Police for a momentlooked away, and I handed him the tiny encyclopædia. "When we meet againI shall know it all by heart!" But twelve long years must elapse beforemy unhappy friend bids farewell to Verkhoyansk! Nevertheless, the almostchildish delight with which the trifling gift was received would havebeen cheaply bought at the price of a valuable library. 

CHAPTER VII

THROUGH DARKEST SIBERIA

Let the reader picture the distance, say, from London to Moscow as onevast undulating plateau of alternate layers of ice and snow, and he hasbefore him the region we traversed between the so-called towns ofVerkhoyansk and Sredni-Kolymsk. Twelve hundred miles may not seem veryfar to the railway passenger, but it becomes a different propositionwhen the traveller has to contend against intense cold, scanty shelter, and last, but not least, sick reindeer. For the first seven or eighthundred versts we passed through dense forests, which gradually dwindledaway to sparse and stunted shrubs until the timber line was crossed andvegetation finally disappeared. The so-called _stancias_, filthier, ifpossible, than those south of Verkhoyansk, were now never less than twohundred miles apart. There were also _povarnias_ every eighty miles orso, but these were often mere shapeless heaps of timber rotting in thesnow. Throughout the whole distance there was no track of any kind andthe sledges were steered like ships at sea, our course being shaped bycompass and an occasional rest-house or _povarnia_, and these wereeasily passed unnoticed on a dark night, or after a heavy snow-fall hadconcealed their low log walls. 

 "League on league on league of desolation, Mile on mile on mile without a change"

aptly describes the long, dreary expanse that stretches from the YanaRiver to the Polar Sea, for I doubt if there is a more gloomy, desolateregion on the face of this earth. So sparsely is it peopled that even asmall town can moulder away here into non-existence and no one be thewiser for years after its disappearance. The authenticity of thefollowing anecdote is vouched for by Mr. George Kennan, the Americantraveller, who quotes from Russian official statistics. [31]

[Footnote 31: "Siberia and the Exile System, " by George Kennan. ]

"In the year 1879 there was living in the city of Pultava a poorapothecary named Schiller, who was banished as a political offender tothe village of Varnavin, in the Province of Kostroma. Schiller, findinga forced residence in a village to be irksome and tedious, and having noconfidence in petitions, changed his location without asking leave ofanybody, or in other words ran away. About this time the Tsar issued acommand directing that all exiles found absent from their places ofbanishment without leave should be sent to the East Siberian Province ofYakutsk. When, therefore, Schiller was rearrested in a part of theEmpire where he had no right to be, he was banished to Irkutsk, and theGovernor-General of Eastern Siberia was requested to put him underpolice surveillance in some part of the territory named in the Imperialcommand. Governor-General Anuchin, who had then recently come toIrkutsk, and who had not had time apparently to familiarise himself withthe vast region entrusted to his care, directed that Schiller be sentto the district town of Zashiversk, which was (supposed to be) situatedon the River Indigirka, a few miles south of the Arctic Circle. Acentury, or a century and a half, ago Zashiversk was a town ofconsiderable importance, but for some reason it lost its pre-eminence asa fur-trading centre, fell gradually into decay, and finally ceased toexist. Its location was still marked by two concentric circles on allthe maps, its name continued to appear regularly in the annals of theGovernor-General's Office, and I have no doubt that a coterie of'Tchinovniks'[32] in Irkutsk were dividing and pocketing every year themoney appropriated for repairs to its public buildings; but, as a matterof fact, it had not contained a building or an inhabitant for more thanhalf a century, and forest trees were growing on the mound that markedits site. Poor Schiller, after being carried three or four times up anddown the Rivers Lena and Indigirka in a vain search for a non-existentArctic town, was finally brought back to Yakutsk, and a report was madeto the Governor-General that Zashiversk had ceased to exist! TheGovernor-General therefore ordered that the prisoner be taken toSredni-Kolymsk, another 'town' of forty-five houses, situated on theRiver Kolyma north of the Arctic Circle, 3700 miles from Irkutsk and7500 miles from the capital of the Empire. When, after more than a year, the unfortunate druggist reached the last outpost of Russian power inNorth-Eastern Asia, and was set at liberty, he made his way to thelittle log church, entered the belfry, and proceeded to jangle thechurch bells in a sort of wild, erratic chime. When the people of thetown ran to the belfry in alarm and inquired what was the matter, Schiller replied, with dignity, that he wished the whole population toknow that 'by the Grace of God, Herman Schiller, after long and perilouswanderings, had reached, in safety, the town of Sredni-Kolymsk!' Monthsof fatigue, privation and loneliness had probably deprived the poorfellow of his reason, a not unusual occurrence in this isolated portionof the great Russian Empire. But the local police reported to theGovernor-General that the exile Schiller was disorderly and turbulent, and that he had caused a public scandal before he had been inSredni-Kolymsk twenty-four hours, and upon receipt of this informationthe Governor-General endorsed an order to remove the offender to someplace at least twelve versts distant from the town. His idea wasprobably to have Schiller sent to some small suburban village in thegeneral neighbourhood of Sredni-Kolymsk. Unfortunately there was nosuburban village within a hundred miles in any direction, and the localauthorities, not knowing what else to do, carried the wretched druggistabout twelve versts out into the primæval wilderness, erected a logcabin for him, and left him there. What eventually became of him I don'tknow. "[33]

[Footnote 32: Petty officials. ]

[Footnote 33: No wonder Zashiversk figures to this day on most Englishmaps, when it is shown on an official map of the Russian General Staffpublished as late as 1883!]

The first stage out from Verkhoyansk, one of a hundred and fifty versts, was rapidly accomplished in less than twenty-four hours. This waswonderful travelling, but the snow was in perfect condition, indeed ashard and slippery as ice, for at the first _stancia_ the cold wasgreater than any we experienced throughout the whole journey from Franceto America, the thermometer registering 78° below zero (Fahr. ). Weremained here for some hours waiting for reindeer, but the heat andstench of the rest-house produced such nausea that more than once duringthe night I was compelled to don my furs and brave a temperature thatrendered even inhalation painful, and instantly congealed the breathinto a mass of ice. To make matters worse, the hut was crowded withYakutes of loathsome exterior and habits, and a couple of cows and somecalves also occupied the foul den, which, of course, swarmed withvermin. And so did we, after passing the night here, to such an extentas to cause actual pain for some days afterwards whenever we left theouter air for a warmer temperature. Oddly enough, these rest-houses wereusually crowded with people, who presumably never left them, for in theopen we never encountered a solitary human being, nor indeed a singleanimal or bird, with the exception of a dead ermine which had beencaught in a trap and which our Yakute drivers, with characteristicgreed, promptly took from the snare and pocketed. Talking of ermine, thedistrict of Sredni-Kolymsk has always been famous as a fruitfulbreeding-place of this pretty little creature, and they used to beobtainable there at an absurdly low price, from sixpence to a shillingapiece. A friend had therefore commissioned me to procure him as manyskins as we could conveniently carry, intending to make a mantle for asmany halfpence as the garment would have cost him pounds in England. But we found that ermine had become almost as costly in Sredni-Kolymskas in Regent Street. The price formerly paid for a score would nowbarely purchase one, for the Yakutsk agents of London furriers hadstripped the district to provide furs for the robes to be worn at theCoronation of his Majesty the King of England. Far-reaching indeed arethe requirements of royalty!

It was impossible to procure food of an eatable kind here, or indeed atany other _stancia_ throughout this part of the journey. The _ispravnik_at Verkhoyansk had assured me that deer-meat would always beforthcoming; and so it was, in a putrid condition which rendered itquite uneatable. There was nothing else obtainable but frozen milk(generally black with smoke and filth), so we were compelled to subsistsolely on the meat from Yakutsk, so long as it lasted, and on"Carnyl, "[34] a kind of palatable pemmican brought from England andintended only for use on the Coast. And we afterwards nearly perishedfrom starvation in consequence of this premature indulgence in our"emergency rations. "

[Footnote 34: "Carnyl" (invented by Dr. Yorke-Davies) is a patent food Ican heartily recommend to Arctic explorers, as it is not only sustainingbut very palatable. ]

Shortly after leaving Aditscha, we crossed the river of that name, whichflows into the Yana below Verkhoyansk. The former stream is noted forits abundance of fish, which, in summer time, is salted and exported inlarge quantities to the various settlements throughout the district. Travelling steadily for forty-five versts we crossed the Tabalakmountains (or rather hills), and from here under fifteen versts broughtus to Tostach, where the accommodation was a shade less atrocious thanat Aditscha, and where we again had to pass the night to await a relay. Stepan tried the effect of threats, and then of kicks, but even thelatter failed to arouse the postmaster to any great extent, for theYakutes add laziness to their other numerous vices, which include anarrant cowardice. Treat one of these people with kindness and he willinsult you; thrash him soundly, and he will fawn at your feet. Thisconstant delay in the arrival of the deer now began to cause me someanxiety, for Stepan said that he had frequently had to wait three orfour days for these animals at a _stancia_. 

Tostach was only outwardly cleaner than Aditscha, for when the inmatesof the _stancia_ had retired to rest, the warmth and firelit silencebrought out such overwhelming legions of vermin that I rose and, lighting a candle, proceeded to beguile the hours until the dawn with a"Whitaker's Almanack, " which, with a Shakespeare and "Pickwick, " nowcomposed our library. And here an incident occurred which might wellhave startled a person with weak nerves, for the most practical beingscarcely cares to be suddenly confronted, at dead of night, with aghostly apparition unpleasantly suggestive of graveyards. On thisoccasion the spectre might have dropped from the clouds, for I looked upfrom my book for an instant, and noiselessly as a shadow it appearedbefore me, a shapeless thing in rags with a pale and gibbering faceframed in tangled grey locks. A tinkling sound accompanied everymovement of the creature, and I then saw that the figure was adornedfrom head to heel with scraps of iron, copper coins, rusty nails, andother rubbish, including a couple of sardine-tins which reassured me asto the material nature of the unwelcome visitor. When, however, theintruder showed signs of friendliness and nearer approach, I arousedStepan, who sprang to his feet, and, with one heave of his mightyshoulders, sent the intruder flying into the darker recesses of the_stancia_. "It's only a Shaman, " muttered the Cossack with a yawn, as herolled back into the dirty straw, and I then regretted that I had notmore closely examined this High Priest of, perhaps, the weirdest faithin existence, for an hour afterwards, when the rekindled fire had oncemore rendered objects clearly visible, the "Shaman" had left the hut assilently and mysteriously as he had entered it. 

[Illustration: A VISITOR. ]

Shamanism is strictly prohibited by the Russian Government, althoughmany Yakutes practise its rites in secret, and the Tunguses[35] know noother faith. Only few Europeans have beheld the weird ceremoniesperformed by these people, generally at night in the depths of theforest or out on the lonely "Tundra, " far from the eye of officialdom. The most lucid description of Shamanism which I have been able to obtainis that given by Mr. J. Stadling, the Swedish explorer, who led a fewyears ago an expedition through Northern Siberia in search of MonsieurAndré. Mr. Stadling writes: "The Universe, according to the Shamans, consists of a number of layers, or strata, which are separated from eachother by some kind of intermediate space or matter. Seven upper layersconstitute the kingdom of light, and seven or more lower layers thekingdom of darkness. Between these upper or lower layers, the surface ofthe earth, the habitation of mankind, is situated, whence mankind isexposed to the influence both of the upper and the lower world--_i. E. _, the powers of light and of darkness. All the good divinities, spiritsand genii, which create, preserve and support the weak children of men, have their abode in the upper layers, in the world of light. In thelayers of the lower world the evil divinities and Spirits lurk, alwaysseeking to harm and destroy mankind. In the highest layers (the 'SeventhHeaven'), the Great Tangara, or 'Ai-Toion, ' as he is called in NorthernSiberia, is enthroned in eternal light. He is perfect and good, orrather is exalted above both good and evil, and seems to meddle verylittle with the affairs of the Universe, caring neither for sacrificesnor prayers. In the fifth or ninth layer of the lower world, the fearfulErlik-Khan, the Prince of Darkness, sits on a black throne, surroundedby a court of evil spirits and genii. The intermediate layers are theabode of divinities and spirits of different degrees of light anddarkness; most of them are the spirits of deceased men. All spiritsexert influence on the destiny of man for good or evil; the children ofmen are unable to soften or to subdue these spiritual beings, whence thenecessity of Shamans or Priests, who alone possess power over thespiritual world. "[36]

[Footnote 35: The Tunguses number about 12, 000 to 15, 000, and inhabitthe region lying to the north-west and north-east of Yakutsk. ]

[Footnote 36: "Through Siberia, " by J. Stadling. London, 1901. ]

I met some years ago at Tomsk, in Western Siberia, a fur-trader who hadonce secretly witnessed a Shaman ceremony, which he thus described tome: "Half a dozen worshippers were gathered in a clearing in a lonelypart of the forest and I came on them by accident, but concealed myselfbehind some dense undergrowth. In a circle of flaming logs I saw theShaman, clad in pure white and looking considerably cleaner than I hadpreviously thought possible. Round his neck was a circular brass platesignifying the sun, and all over his body were suspended bits of metal, small bells, and copper coins, which jingled with every movement. Theceremony seemed to consist of circling round without cessation fornearly an hour, at the end of which time the Shaman commenced to howland foam at the mouth, to the great excitement of his audience. Thegyrations gradually increased in rapidity, until at last the Priest fellheavily to the ground, face downwards, apparently in a fit. The meetingthen dispersed and I made my escape as quickly and as silently aspossible, for had I been discovered my life would not have been worth amoment's purchase. "

The museum at Yakutsk contains some interesting relics pertaining toShamanism, amongst others some articles found near the Lena, in the tombprobably of an important personage, for the grave contained valuablejewellery, arms and personal effects. I observed that everything, fromgarments down to a brass tobacco-box, had been punctured with some sharpinstrument, and Mr. Olenin explained that all articles buried withpersons of the Shaman faith are thus pierced, generally with a dagger, in order to "kill" them before interment. About twenty miles north-eastof Tostach we came across the tomb of a Shaman which, judging by itsappearance, had been there about a century, and the shell with theremains had long since disappeared. 

The deer were a long time coming at Tostach; one of our driversaccounted for the delay by the fact that wolves had been unusuallytroublesome this year, and when Stepan suggested that the wolves weretwo-legged ones, did not appear to relish the joke. For the man was aTunguse, a race noted for its predatory instincts and partiality fordeer-meat. Reindeer in these parts cost only from twelve to fifteenroubles apiece, but farther north they fetch forty to fifty roubleseach, and the loss of many is a serious one. 

We managed to get away from Tostach that afternoon (March 5) in a densesnowstorm, although on the preceding day the sun had blazed so fiercelyinto the sleds that we could almost have dispensed with furs. Theweather, however, was mostly bright and clear all the way from the Lenato the coast, which was fortunate, for with sunshine and blue sky wecould generally afford to laugh at cold and hunger, while on dull, greydays the spirits sank to zero, crushed by a sense of intolerableloneliness, engendered by our dismal surroundings and the dailyincreasing distance from home. The stage from Tostach was perhaps thehardest one south of the Arctic, for we travelled steadily for twelvehours with a head-wind and driving snow which rendered progress slow andlaborious. Finally, reaching the _povarnia_ of Kürtas[37] in a miserablecondition, with frost-bitten faces and soaking furs, we scraped awaythe snow inside the crazy shelter and kindled a fire, for no food hadpassed our lips for sixteen hours. But time progressed, and there wereno signs of the provision-sled which, as usual, brought up the rear ofthe caravan. Ignorance was bliss on this occasion, for the knowledgethat the vehicle in question was at that moment firmly fixed in a driftten miles away, with one of its team lying dead from exhaustion, wouldnot have improved matters. When our provisions reached Kürtas, we hadfasted for twenty-four hours, which, in North-Eastern Siberia, becomesan inconvenience less cheerfully endured than in a temperate climate. Beyond Kürtas the track was almost overgrown, and our _narta_ coverswere almost torn to pieces by branches on either side of it. There wereplaces where we had literally to force our way through the woods, andhow the drivers held their course remains a mystery. Nearing theTashayaktak[38] mountain, however, we travelled along the Dogdo Riverfor some distance; but here, although the road was clear, constantoverflows compelled us to travel along the centre of the stream, whichis about ten times the width of the Thames at Gravesend. Here the sledsoccasionally skated over perilously thin ice, and as night was falling Iwas glad to reach _terra firma_. The Tashayaktak range is at this pointnowhere less than three thousand feet in height, and I was anticipatinga second clamber over their snowy peaks when Stepan informed me that thecrossing could be easily negotiated by a pass scarcely five hundredfeet high. Fortunately the wind had now dropped, for during gales thesnow is piled up in huge drifts along this narrow pass, and only theprevious year two Yakutes had been snowed up to perish of cold andstarvation. However, we crossed the range without much difficulty, although boulders and frozen cataracts made it hard work for the deer, and another one fell here to mark our weary track across Siberia. And welost yet another of the poor little beasts, which broke its leg in thegnarled roots of a tree, before reaching the _povarnia_ of Siss, ahundred and thirty versts from Tostach. Here both men and beasts wereexhausted, and I resolved to halt for twelve hours and recuperate. 

[Footnote 37: When the letter "u" is surmounted by two dots it ispronounced like that in "Curtain. "]

[Footnote 38: The names of places between Verkhoyansk and Sredni-Kolymskwere furnished by Stepan Rastorguyeff. ]

The _povarnia_ of Siss was more comfortable than usual, which means thatits accommodation was about on a par with an English cow-shed. But weobtained a good night's rest, notwithstanding icy draughts and meltedsnow. The latter was perhaps the chief drawback at these places, for wegenerally awoke to find ourselves lying inch-deep in watery slushoccasioned by the warmth of the fire. At Siss the weather cleared, andwe set out next day with renewed spirits, which the deer seemed toshare, for they, too, had revelled in moss, which was plentiful aroundthe _povarnia_, while, as a rule, they had to roam for several miles insearch of it. Siberian reindeer seem to have an insatiable appetite;whenever we halted on the road (often several times within the hour)every team would set to work pawing up the snow in search of food, withsuch engrossed energy that it took some time to set them going again. And yet these gentle, patient beasts would labour along for hours, girth-deep in heavy snow, their flanks going like steam-engines, andnever dream of stopping to take a rest unless ordered to do so. 

It would weary the reader to enumerate in detail the events of the nextfew days. Suffice it to say that half a dozen _povarnias_ were passedbefore we reached Ebelach, a so-called village consisting of threemud-huts. Ebelach is more than seven hundred versts from Verkhoyansk, and we accomplished the journey in under a week. Only one place, the_povarnia_ of Tiriak-Hureya, is deserving of mention, for two reasons:the first being that it exactly resembled the valley of Chamonix, looking down it from Mont Blanc towards the Aiguilles. I shall neverforget the glorious sunset I witnessed here, nor the hopeless feeling ofnostalgia instilled by the contemplation of those leagues of forest andsnowy peaks, the latter gradually merging in the dusk from a delicaterose colour to bluish grey. Only the preceding summer I had stood on theprincipal "place" of the little Swiss town and witnessed almost exactlythe same landscape, and the contrast only rendered our presentsurroundings the more lonesome and desolate. No wonder the Swiss are ahomesick race, or that Napoleon, on his distant campaigns, prohibited, from fear of desertion, the playing of their national airs. Smoky citiescould be recalled, even in this land of desolation, without yearning orregret, but I could never think of the sunlit Alps or leafy boulevardswithout an irresistible longing to throw reputation to the winds andreturn to them forthwith!

The other circumstance connected with Tiriak-Hureya is that the_povarnia_, measuring exactly sixteen feet by fourteen feet, was alreadytenanted by a venerable gentleman of ragged and unsavoury exterior, hisYakute wife, or female companion, three children, and a baby with amysterious skin disease. We numbered sixteen in all, including drivers, and that night is vividly engraven on my memory. It was impossible tomove hand or foot without touching some foul personality, and five hourselapsed before Stepan was able to reach the fire and cook some food. Butnotwithstanding his unspeakably repulsive exterior the aged strangerexcited my curiosity, for his careworn features and sunken eyessuggested a past life of more than ordinary interest. He was an exile, one of the few who have lived to retrace their steps along this "ViaDolorosa. " I addressed the poor old fellow, who told us that he had oncespoken French fluently, but could now only recall a few words, and thesehe unconsciously interlarded with Yakute. Captain ----, once in thePolish Army, had been deported to Sredni-Kolymsk after the insurrectionof 1863, and had passed the rest of his life in that gloomy settlement. He was now returning to Warsaw to end his days, but death was plainlywritten on the pinched, pallid face and weary eyes, and I doubt whetherthe poor soul ever lived to reach the home he had yearned for through somany hopeless years. 

Nearing Ebelach the forest became so dense that we travelled almost indarkness, even at midday. Snow had fallen heavily here, and the driftslay deep, while the trees on every side were weighted down to the earthwith a soft, white mantle, that here and there assumed the weirdestresemblance to the shapes of birds and animals. I have never seen thisfreak of nature elsewhere, although it is mentioned by ancient explorersas occurring in the forests of Kamtchatka. And as we advanced northwardoptical delusions became constantly visible. At times a snow hillock ofperhaps fifty feet high would appear a short distance away to be amountain of considerable altitude; at others the process would bereversed and the actual mountain would be dwarfed into a molehill. Thesephenomena were probably due to rarefied atmosphere, and they were mostfrequent on the Arctic sea-board. 

A number of small lakes were crossed between the last _povarnia_ andEbelach. There must have been quite a dozen of these covering a distanceof twenty miles, and fortunately the ice was well covered with snow orit must have considerably impeded the deer. These lakes vary in size, ranging from about one to four miles in diameter, and are apparentlyvery shallow, for reeds were visible everywhere sprouting through theice. Swamps would, perhaps, better describe these shoaly sheets ofwater, which in summer so swarm with mosquitoes that deer and even thenatives sometimes die from their attacks. 

Ebelach was reached on March 9, and as the _stancia_ here was a fairlyclean one, I decided, although reindeer were in readiness, to halt fortwenty-four hours. For even one short week of this kind of work had leftits mark on us, and the catarrh, from which we now all suffered, did notimprove the situation. When I look back upon the daily, almost hourly, fatigues and privations of that journey from the Lena River to BeringStraits, I sometimes marvel that we ever came through it at all; and yetthis part of the voyage was a mere picnic compared to the subsequenttrip along the Arctic coast. And indeed this was bad enough, for inaddition to physical hardships there were hundreds of minor discomforts, a description of which would need a separate chapter. Vermin and bodilyfilth were our chief annoyances, but there were other minor miseriesalmost as bad as these. One was the wet inside the sleds at night. Youlay down to sleep, and in a short time your breath had formed a layer ofice over the face, and the former melting in the warmer region of theneck gradually trickled down under your furs, until by morning everystitch of underclothing was saturated. On very cold nights the eyelidswould be frozen firmly together during sleep, and one would have tostagger blindly into a _stancia_ or _povarnia_ before they could beopened. Again, on starting from a _stancia_ at sunset, the hood of thesled is closed down on its helpless occupant, who must remain in thisambulant ice-box for an indefinite period, until it is re-opened fromthe outside, for no amount of shouting would ever attract the attentionof the driver. The midnight hours were the worst, when we lay awakewondering how long it would be before the last remnant of life wasfrozen out of us. Two or three times during the night there would be ahalt, and I would start up and listen intently in the darkness to thelow sound of voices and the quick nervous stamp of the reindeer seekingfor moss. Then came an interval of suspense. Was it a _povarnia_, ormust I endure more hours of agony? But a lurch and a heave onward of thesled was only too often the unwelcome reply. At last the joyous momentwould arrive when I could distinguish those ever-pleasant sounds, thecreaking of a door followed by the crackling of sticks. A _povarnia_ atlast! But even then it was generally necessary to yell and hammer at thesides of your box of torture for half an hour or so, the drivers havingfled to the cosy fireside intent upon warming themselves, and obliviousof every one else. No wonder that after a night of this description weoften regarded even a filthy _povarnia_ as little less luxurious than aCarlton Hotel. 

The cold was so great that I had not slept for thirty-six hours beforereaching Ebelach, but we soon made up for it here, where everything wasfairly clean and even the ice windows were adjusted with more than usualnicety. Glazing is cheap in these parts. When the ponds are frozen to adepth of six or eight inches blocks of ice are cut out and laid on theroof of the hut out of reach of the dogs. If a new window is requiredthe old melted pane is removed, and a fresh block of ice is fitted onthe outside with wet snow, which serves as putty and shortly freezes. Atnight-time boards are placed indoors against the windows to protect themfrom the heat of the fire, but the cold in these regions is so intensethat one ice window will generally last throughout the winter. The lightfilters only very dimly through this poor substitute for glass, which isalmost opaque. By the way, here as in every other _stancia_ a woodencalendar of native construction was suspended over the doorway. Somesuperstition is probably attached to the possession of these, foralthough I frequently tried to purchase one at a fancy price the ownerswould never sell this primitive timekeeper which was generally warpedand worm-eaten with age. I never saw a new one. 

After a square sleep of twelve hours we awoke to find the inmates of the_stancia_ discussing a dish of fine perch caught from the adjacent lake. They had simply thawed the fish out and were devouring it in a rawstate, but we managed to secure a portion of the welcome food, which, when properly cooked, was delicious, and a welcome change from _Carnyl_and the beef (or horse) from Yakutsk, which had lasted us until now. Every lake in this region teems with fish, which are never salted herefor export, but only used for local consumption. 

The postmaster's family was a large and thriving one. I noticed that thepoliteness of these natives increased as we proceeded northward, andthat at the same time their mental capacity diminished. For instance, two of the people at Ebelach were hopeless idiots and I was prepared forthe terrible percentage of insane persons which I afterwards foundamongst the exiles of Sredni-Kolymsk by the large number of Yakutes offeeble intellect whom we encountered at the rest-houses beyondVerkhoyansk. Nearly every one contained one or more unmistakablelunatics, and it afterwards struck me that in a land where even thenatives go mad from sheer despondency of life, it is no wonder that menand women of culture and refinement are driven to suicide from theconstant dread of insanity. Idiocy, however, is more frequent amongstthe natives, and in one _povarnia_ we found a poor half-witted wretchwho had taken up his quarters there driven away from the nearest_stancia_ by the cruelty of its inmates. This poor imbecile had laid ina store of putrid fish and seemed quite resigned to his surroundings, but we persuaded him to return to his home with us. This was anexceptional case, for the Yakutes are generally kind and indulgenttowards mental sufferers, their kindness perhaps arising to a certainextent from fear, for in these parts mad people are credited with occultpowers which enable them to take summary vengeance on their enemies. 

Leaving Ebelach the lakes became so numerous that the country may alsobe described as one vast sheet of water with intervals of land. We musthave crossed over a hundred lakes of various sizes between the _stancia_of Khatignak and Sredni-Kolymsk, a distance of about five hundredversts. The majority were carpeted with snow, and afforded good going;but smooth black ice formed the surface of others, swept by the wind, and these worked sad havoc amongst our deer, of which four, with brokenlegs, had to be destroyed. Nearing Khatignak we crossed theIndigirka[39] river, which rises in the Stanovoi range and flows throughmany hundred miles of desolation to the Arctic Ocean. The country hereis more hilly, but sparse forests of stunted bushes and withered lookingpine-trees were now the sole vegetation, and these were often replacedby long stretches of snowy plain. A long stage of seventy-five verstswithout a break brought us to Khatignak, where another reindeer droppeddead from exhaustion before the door of the _stancia_. 

[Footnote 39: The now obsolete town of Zashiversk was situated on theright bank of this river. ]

Some miles beyond Khatignak another chain of mountains was crossed, although downs would more aptly describe the Alazenski range. But thesnow lay deep and we were compelled to make the ascent on foot, a hardwalk of five hours in heavy furs under a blazing sun. On the summit is awooden cross marking the boundary between the Kolyma and Verkhoyanskdistricts. The cross was hung with all kinds of rubbish, copper coins, scraps of iron, and shreds of coloured cloth suspended by horse-hair, which had been placed there by Yakute travellers to propitiate the godsand ensure a prosperous journey. The cross, as a Christian symbol, didnot seem to occur to the worshippers of the Shaman faith, who had leftthese offerings. We slept on the northern side of the mountain at a_povarnia_ renowned even amongst the natives for its revoltingaccommodation. In the Yakute language "Siss-Ana" signifies literally"one hundred doors, " and the name was given to this sieve-like structureon account of the numberless and icy draughts which assail itsoccupants. The place is said to be accursed, and I could well believeit, for although a roaring fire blazed throughout the night, the wallsand ceiling were thickly coated with rime in the morning, and towardsmidnight a bottle of "Harvey's Sauce" exploded like a dynamite shell, not ten feet from the hearth! The condiment was far too precious towaste, so it was afterwards carried in a tin drinking-cup, in a frozenstate, and not poured out, but bitten off, at meals!

Between Siss-Ana and the _stancia_ of Malofskaya the country becomesmuch wilder, and forests dwindle away as we near the timber line. Occasionally not a tree would be visible from sled to horizon, only alevel plain of snow, which under the influence of wind, sunshine andpassing clouds would present as many moods and aspects as the sea. Onone day it would appear as smooth and unbroken as a village pond, onanother the white expanse would be broken by ripples, solid waveletsstirred up by a light breeze, while after a storm, billows and rollersin the shape of great drifts and hillocks would obstruct our progress. As we neared the frozen ocean many storms were encountered, andapproaching Sredni-Kolymsk these occurred almost daily as furiousblizzards. On such occasions we always lay to, for it was impossible totravel against the overwhelming force of the wind. Frequently thesetempests occurred in otherwise fine weather, and on such days the snowdid not fall but was whirled up from the ground in dense clouds, andduring the lulls, a momentary glance of sunshine and blue sky had astrange effect. And, as we gradually crept further and further north, asense of unspeakable loneliness seemed to increase with every mile wecovered. Let the reader try and realise that during the journey fromVerkhoyansk of over one thousand miles, we had seen perhaps fifty humanbeings and--a dead ermine! When at Irkutsk I spoke of journeying toSredni-Kolymsk I was regarded as a lunatic by the majority of myhearers. Yakutsk was their end of the world! And now that cold, monotony and silence were gradually telling upon the brain and nerves, Isometimes questioned, in moments of despondency, whether my Irkutskfriends were not right when they exclaimed: "You are mad to go there. "There were compensations, notwithstanding, for a lover of Nature--thesapphire skies and dazzling sunshine, the marvellous sunsets under whichthe snowy desert would flash like a kaleidoscope of delicate colours, and last, but not least, the glorious starlit nights, when the littlePleiades would seem to glitter so near that you had but to reach out ahand and pick them out of the inky sky. 

On March 14 a large caravan hove in sight, composed of perhaps a scoreof horse-sleds, which, as we neared it, halted, and a European emergedfrom the leading sled to greet us. This bearded giant in tattered fursproved to be the Russian naturalist, Yokelson, returning to Europe aftera two years' exploration in North-Eastern Siberia--principally in theneighbourhood of Kamtchatka and the Okhotsk Sea. From Gijiga, Yokelsonhad struck in a north-westerly direction to Sredni-Kolymsk, and wasbringing home a valuable collection for the society which had employedhim in the United States. The Russian could only give us the worst ofnews from the Kolyma, where my expedition was expected by the_ispravnik_, although the latter had assured Yokelson that our projectedjourney to Bering Straits was out of the question. A famine was stillraging, there were very few dogs, and those half starved and useless, and neither this official nor any one else in the place knew anythingabout the country east of Sredni-Kolymsk. Three years previously aRussian missionary had started with a driver on a dog-sled to travelfrom the Kolyma along the coast to the nearest Tchuktchi settlement, about 600 miles away, and the pair had never been heard of since. Thiswas the cheerful information which, happily, the Russian travellerimparted to me in strict privacy. 

Shortly after leaving Yokelson we crossed the Utchingoikel, or"Beautiful Lake, " so called from its picturesque surroundings in summertime. At Andylach horses were harnessed to the sleds and we used no moredeer, there being no moss between here and Sredni-Kolymsk. The changewas not a desirable one, for the Yakute horse is a terrible animal. "Generally he won't move until your sled is upset, and then he runs awayand it's impossible to stop him. " So wrote Mr. Gilder, the Americanexplorer, and his experience was ours. But Gilder was compelled to rideseveral stages and thus graphically describes his sufferings: "TheYakute horse can scarcely be called a horse, he is a domesticated wildanimal. A coat or two was placed under the wooden saddle, so that thewriter was perched high in the air like on a camel. The stirrups were ofwood, and it was an art to mount, for they depended immediately from thepommel. When you mounted ten to one that you fell in front of thepommel, and as you could not get back over a pommel ten inches high youslid over the horse's head to the ground and tried again. Yakute horsesare docile, provokingly so, for they have not enough animation to bewicked. The favourite gait is a walk so slow and deliberate that youlose all patience, and, if possible, raise a trot which is like nothingknown to the outside world; your horse rises in the air and straightensout his legs and then comes down upon the end which has the foot on it, the recoil bouncing you high up from your seat just in time to meet thesaddle as it is coming up for the next step. It's like constant bucking, and yet you don't go four miles an hour!"

I could sympathise with the writer of the above, for during the firstday's work with these brutes I was upset five times, and felt towardsevening like an invalid after a hard day with hounds. 

Crossing lake after lake (this is a Siberian Finland) with intervals offorest and barren plain, we reached the last _stancia_ of any size, Ultin. This is about two hundred miles from Sredni-Kolymsk, and therest-house showed signs of approaching civilisation, or rather Russianhumanity. For the floor was actually clean, there was a table and twochairs, and a cheap oleograph of his Majesty the Emperor pinned to theplank wall. The place seemed palatial after the miserable shelters wehad shared, and I seized the opportunity of a wash in warm water beforeconfronting the authorities at Sredni-Kolymsk. 

On March 17 Atetzia was reached. This is, indeed, a land ofcontradictions, for, although only ten miles from Sredni-Kolymsk, the_povarnia_ here was the filthiest we entered throughout the journey fromVerkhoyansk. It contained two occupants, an old and ragged Yakute womanand a dead deer in an advanced state of decomposition. The former layupon the mud floor groaning and apparently in great pain, with one armaround the neck of the putrid carcase beside her, and I inferred thatshe had been poisoned by partaking of the disgusting remains, probablyin a raw condition, for there were no signs of a fire. But themedicine-chest alleviated her sufferings, and we left the poor wretchfull of gratitude and in comparative comfort. The same afternoon wereached our destination, having accomplished the journey fromVerkhoyansk in eighteen days, although four months had been freelypredicted as its probable duration!

CHAPTER VIII

AN ARCTIC INFERNO

NOTE. --The information contained in the following chapterwas chiefly obtained from Government officials stationed atSredni-Kolymsk, the facts being afterwards verified, orotherwise, by political exiles at the same place by myrequest. 

We reached Sredni-Kolymsk early in March on a glorious day, one of thosepeculiar to the Arctic regions, when the pure, crisp air exhilarateslike champagne, and nature sparkles like a diamond in the sunshine. Butas we neared it, the sight of that dismal drab settlement seemed todarken the smiling landscape like a coffin which has been carried bymistake into a brilliant ball-room. I once thought the acme ofdesolation had been reached at Verkhoyansk, but to drive into this placewas like entering a cemetery. Imagine a double row of squalid log-huts, with windows of ice, some of which, detached by the warm springsunshine, have fallen to the ground. This is the main "street, " at oneextremity of which stands a wooden church in the last stage of decay, atthe other the house of the Chief of Police, the only decent building inthe place. So low indeed are these in stature that the settlement isconcealed, two or three hundred yards away, by the stunted trees aroundit. Only the rickety spire of a chapel is visible, and this overtopsthe neighbouring dwellings by only a few feet. Picture perhaps a scoreof other huts as squalid as the rest scattered around an area of half amile, and you have before you the last "civilised" outpost in NorthernSiberia. All around it a desolate plain, fringed by grey-green Arcticvegetation and bisected by the frozen river Kolyma; over all the silenceof the grave. Such is Sredni-Kolymsk, as it appeared to me even in thatbrilliant sunshine--the most gloomy, God-forsaken spot on the face ofthis earth. 

At first sight the place looked like an encampment deserted by trappers, or some village decimated by deadly sickness; anything but the abode ofhuman beings. For a while our arrival attracted no attention, butpresently skin-clad forms emerged here and there from the miserablehuts, and haggard faces nodded a cheerless welcome as we drove past themtowards the police office. Here a dwelling was assigned to us, and wetook up our residence in quarters colder and filthier than any we hadoccupied since leaving Verkhoyansk. And yet our lodgings were preferableto many of those occupied by the exiles. 

During our visit Sredni-Kolymsk had a population of about three hundredsouls, of whom only fourteen were political offenders. The remainderwere officials, criminal colonists, and natives of the Yakute, Lamute, or Tunguse races. The Cossacks here subsist chiefly by trapping andfishing, but are also nominally employed as guards--a uselessprecaution, as starvation would inevitably follow an attempt to escape. The criminal colonists are allotted a plot of ground in this districtafter a term of penal servitude, and I have never beheld, even inSakhalin, such a band of murderous-looking ruffians as were assembledhere. They were a constant terror to the exiles, and even officialsrarely ventured out after dark. 

The police officials here were sour, stern-visaged individuals, and ourwelcome was as frigid as it had been warm at Verkhoyansk. The Chief ofPolice had recently met his death under tragic circumstances, which Ishall presently describe, and I was received by the acting _ispravnik_, whose grim manners and appearance were in unpleasant contrast to thoseof our kind old friend Katcherofsky. Although this natural prison had nobolts and bars or other evidences of a penal system, the very air seemedtainted with mystery and oppression, and the melancholy row of huts toscrawl the word "captivity" across the desolate landscape. Even the_ispravnik's_ room, with its heavy black furniture and sombre draperies, was suggestive of the Inquisition, and I searched instinctively aroundme for the rack and thumbscrews. How many a poor wretch had stood inthis gloomy apartment waiting patiently, after months of unspeakablesuffering, for some filthy hovel wherein to lay his head. It seemed tome that crape and fetters would more fittingly have adorned thosewhitewashed walls than a sacred _Ikon_ encrusted with jewels, andheavily gilt oil-paintings of their Imperial Majesties! A couple oftables littered with papers occupied the centre of the room, and at oneof these sat the _ispravnik_, a wooden-faced peremptory person in darkgreen tunic and gold shoulder straps. A couple of clerks, also inuniform, were busily engaged at the other desk, sorting the mail whichour Cossack had brought, and in expectation of which a group of poorlyclad, shivering exiles were already waiting in the piercing coldoutside. But when we left this place ten days later not a single letterhad reached its destination, although the post-bag contained over ahundred addressed to the various politicals. 

Even the Governor-General's all-powerful document produced little effecthere, for the _ispravnik_ appeared to regard himself as beyond the reachof even the Tsar's Viceroy, which, indeed, from an inaccessible point ofview, he undoubtedly was. "You cannot possibly go, " was the curtrejoinder to my request for dogs and drivers to convey us to the BeringStraits. "In the first place, a famine is raging here and you will beunable to procure provisions. Stepan tells me that you have barelyenough food with you to last for two weeks, and it would take you atleast twice that time to reach the nearest Tchuktchi settlement, whichwe know to be beyond Tchaun Bay, six hundred miles away. A year ago twoof our people tried to reach it, and perished, although they left herewell supplied with dogs and provisions. For all I know the _Kor_ (whichhas decimated this district) may have killed off the coast natives ordriven them into the interior of the country, and then where would yoube, even supposing you reached Tchaun Bay, with no shelter, no food, andanother month at least through an icy waste to Bering Straits. As fordogs, most of ours have perished from the scarcity of fish caught lastsummer; I don't think there are thirty sound dogs in the place, and youwould need at least three times that number. Reindeer, even if we couldget them, are out of the question, for there is not an ounce of moss onthe coast. But even with dogs forthcoming I doubt whether you would finddrivers to accompany you, for all our people are in deadly terror of theTchuktchis. No, no! Take my advice and give up this mad project even ifyou have to remain here throughout the summer. It will at any rate bebetter than leaving your bones on the shores of the Arctic Ocean. "

My experience of Russian _ispravniks_ is varied and extensive, and Itherefore realised that argument was useless with this adamantineofficial, whose petty tyranny was evidently not confined to his dealingwith his exiles. I therefore returned to our cheerless quarters inanything but a pleasant frame of mind, and almost convinced that ouroverland expedition was now finally wrecked. The outlook was not acheerful one, for the homeward journey would in itself be miserableenough, without the addition of floods and a possible detention througha sultry, mosquito-infested summer at Verkhoyansk. It has seldom been mylot to pass such a depressing evening as that which followed myinterview with the _ispravnik_, but the prospect of an entire summer'simprisonment in Arctic wilds affected us far less than the failure ofthe expedition. Harding probably echoed the feelings of all when heexclaimed with a gesture of despair: "When we set out on this job thedevil must have taken the tickets!"

Stepan alone was silent and taciturn. When I awoke next morning atdaybreak he had disappeared, presumably to procure reindeer for thereturn journey. But the season was now so far advanced that the_ispravnik_ called during the day to beg me not to risk a spring journeyto Yakutsk. It was far better, he averred, to remain here and travelback in safety and comparative comfort in the late fall. It would evenbe preferable to attempt the summer journey down the Kolyma River andover the Stanovoi Mountains to Ola on the Okhotsk Sea. The trip hadcertainly never been made, but then no more had our projected one toAmerica, and how infinitely preferable to arrive at Ola, where we mightonly have to wait a few days for a steamer, than to start off on a wildgoose chase to Bering Straits which we should probably never reach atall. "Besides, " continued the _ispravnik_, "the Ola trip would be soeasy by comparison with the other. No drivers and dog-sleds to beprocured, merely a flat-bottomed boat which could be put together in afew days. " From my friend's eagerness to avoid trouble of any kind I nowstrongly suspected that laziness was the chief cause of our presentdilemma, although this official's demeanour was so much moreconciliatory than on the previous day, that I fancied that a night'sreflection had revealed the unpleasant results that might follow myunfavourable report of his conduct at Irkutsk. Although we sat for hoursthat day consuming tea and innumerable cigarettes, I was no nearer thesolution of the problem at sunset than at dawn. And had I but known it, all the time I was vainly urging this stolid boor to reconsider hisdecision, help was arriving from a totally unexpected quarter. Idiscussed a cheerless and silent meal with my companions, and we wereturning in that night when Stepan strolled in, cool and imperturbable asusual. He even divested himself of furs and helped himself to foodbefore making an announcement which sent the blood tingling through myveins with excitement and renewed hope. 

"I have got the dogs, " said the Cossack quietly, with his mouth full offish and black bread. "Sixty-four of them; we can go on now!" The newsseemed too good to be true, until Stepan explained that he had travelledthirty miles down the river that day to obtain the animals from afriend. The dogs were poor, weakly brutes, and the price asked anexorbitant one, but I would gladly have paid it thrice over, or pushedon towards our goal, if need be, with a team of tortoises. Even now Ianticipated some difficulty with the _ispravnik_, and was relieved when, the next morning, he consented without demur to our departure. Indeed, Irather fancy he was grateful to the Cossack for ridding him so easily ofhis troublesome guests. The indefatigable Stepan had also procured threedrivers, so that I had no further anxiety on that score. But severaldays must elapse before sufficiently strong sleds for our purpose couldbe constructed. I therefore resolved to utilise the time by making theacquaintance of the exiles and studying the conditions of theirexistence in this out-of-the-way corner of creation. This was at firstno easy matter, for if the officials here were suspicious the politicalswere a thousand times more so, of one who had invariably written infavour of Russian prisons. Most of these "politicals" were familiar withMr. Kennan's indictment and my subsequent defence of the Russian exilesystem, but the fact that my party was the first to visit this place fora period of over thirty years imbued an investigation of its penalsystem with such intense interest that, notwithstanding many rebuffs, Ifinally gained the confidence of all those who had been banished to thisArctic inferno. And the information which I now place before the readeris the more valuable in that it was derived, in the first place, from anofficial source. 

I should perhaps state that my experience of Russian prisons dates fromthe year 1890. Mr. Kennan's report on the conditions of the penalestablishments throughout Siberia was then arousing indignationthroughout civilised Europe, and his heart-rending accounts of thesufferings endured by political and criminal offenders obviously calledfor some sort of an explanation from the Tsar's Government. A mereofficial denial of the charges would have been useless; a disinterestedperson was needed to report upon the prisons and _étapes_ which had beendescribed as hells upon earth, and to either confirm or gainsay thestatements made by the American traveller. The evidence of a Russiansubject would, for obvious reasons, have met with incredulity, and itcame to pass, therefore, that through the agency of Madame de Novikoff, herself a prison Directress, I was selected for a task, which althoughextremely interesting, subjected me to much unfavourable criticism on myreturn to England. Some yellow journals even went so far as to suggestthat I had received payment from the Russian Government for"whitewashing" its penal system, but I fancy the following pages shouldconclusively disprove the existence of any monetary transactions, pastor present, between the Tsar's officials and myself, to say nothing ofthe fact that my favourable account of the prisons of Western Siberiahas been endorsed by such reliable and well-known English travellers asDr. Lansdell and Mr. J.  Y. Simpson. In fairness, however, to Mr. Kennan, I should state that my inspection of the Tomsk forwarding prison andsimilar establishments was made fully five years after his visit. 

In 1894 I again proceeded to Siberia (under similar conditions) toreport upon the penal settlement on the Island of Sakhalin, thepolitical prison of Akatui, and the mines, where only convict labour isemployed, of Eastern Siberia. On this occasion I travelled from Japan tothe Island of Sakhalin on board a Russian convict ship, a voyage whichconvinced me that the Russian criminal convict is as humanely treatedand well cared for at sea as he is on land, which says a great deal. Ihave always maintained that were I sentenced to a term of penalservitude I would infinitely sooner serve it in (some parts of) Siberiathan in England. It is not now my intention, however, to deal with thecriminal question, but to describe, as accurately as I can, the life ledby a handful of political exiles. 

There are now only two prisons throughout the Russian Empire wherepolitical prisoners are actually incarcerated, [40] one is the fortressof Schlüsselburg on Lake Ladoga within a short journey of St. Petersburg, the other the prison of Akatui, in the trans-Baikalprovince, about three hundred miles east of Irkutsk. Schlüsselburg Ihave never visited, but I inspected the prison of Akatui, and conversedfreely with the politicals within its walls. The majority were men ofeducation, but dangerous conspirators, condemned to long terms of penalservitude. The strictest prison discipline, the wearing of fetters, hardlabour in the silver mines, and association at night in public cellswith the vilest criminals was the lot of those whom I saw at Akatui, andyet I doubt if any of these men would willingly have changed places withtheir exiled comrades "domiciled" in comparative liberty atSredni-Kolymsk. For the stupendous distance of the latter place fromcivilisation surrounds it with even more gloom and mystery than theRussian Bastille on Lake Ladoga, which is the most dreaded prison ofall. 

[Footnote 40: Political prisoners are no longer confined in the fortressof SS. Peter and Paul. Short terms of imprisonment previous tobanishment to Siberia are served in the citadels of Warsaw and othercities, but Schlüsselburg and Akatui are the only establishments nowused as political prisons in the real sense of the word. ]

At the time of our visit, the exiles here numbered twelve men and twowomen, only two of whom had been banished for actual crime. One of thesewas Madame Akimova, who was found with explosives concealed about herperson at the coronation of Nicholas II. , and the other, Zimmermann, convicted of complicity in the destruction of the public workshops atLodz by dynamite a few years ago. With these two exceptions theSredni-Kolymsk exiles were absolutely guiltless of active participationin the revolutionary movement, indeed, most of them appeared to bequiet, intelligent men, of moderate political views who would probablyhave contributed to the welfare and prosperity of any country but theirown. Only one or two openly professed what may be called anarchisticviews, and these were young students, recent arrivals, who looked morelike robbing an orchard than threatening a throne. So far as I couldsee, however, most of these so-called political offenders had beenconsigned to this living tomb merely for openly expressing opinions infavour of a constitution and freedom of speech. And strange as it mayseem, some of them were occasionally almost cheerful under circumstancesthat would utterly annihilate the health and spirits of an averageEnglishman. But even European Russia is an unutterably dreary land in astranger's eyes, which perhaps accounts for this remarkable fact. 

The most pitiable characteristic about Sredni-Kolymsk is perhaps themorbid influence of the place and its surroundings on the mental powers. The first thing noticeable amongst those who had passed some years herewas the utter vacancy of mind, even of men who in Europe had shone inthe various professions. Amongst them was a well-known Polishauthor, [41] who, upon his arrival here, only three years ago, set towork upon an historical novel to lighten the leaden hours of exile. Butit must be more than disheartening to realise that your work, howevergood it may be, will never reach the printer's hands. In six months thebook was thrown aside in disgust, and in less than a year afterwards thewriter's mind had become so unhinged by the maddening monotony of life, that he would, in civilisation, have been placed under restraint. I metalso a once famous professor of anatomy (who had been here for sevenyears), and who, although completely indifferent to the latestdiscoveries of surgical science, displayed an eager interest as to whatwas going on at the Paris music-halls. Indeed, I can safely state that, with three exceptions, there was not a perfectly sane man or womanamongst all the exiles I saw here. 

[Footnote 41: I was requested to suppress the name. ]

"A couple of years usually makes them shaky, " said an official, "and thestrongest-minded generally become childish when they have been here forfive or six. "

"But why is it?" I asked. 

My friend walked to the window and pointed to the mournful street, thedismal hovels, and frozen river darkening in the dusk. 

"That, " he said, "and the awful silence. Day after day, year after year, not a sound. I have stood in that street at mid-day and heard a watchtick in my pocket. Think of it, Mr. De Windt. I myself arrived here onlya few months ago, but even I shall soon have to get away for a change, or----" and he tapped his forehead significantly. 

The insanity which I found so prevalent amongst the exiles here is nodoubt largely due to physical privation. When a man is banished forpolitical reasons to Siberia, his property is confiscated to theuttermost farthing by the Russian Government, which provides a fixedmonthly allowance for his maintenance in exile. At Sredni-Kolymsk it isnineteen roubles a month, or about £1 16s. , an absurdly inadequateallowance in a place where the necessaries of life are always at famineprices. During our stay here flour was selling at a rouble a pound, andan abominable kind of brick tea at two roubles a pound, while candles, sugar, and salt cost exactly five times as much as at Yakutsk, whereEuropean prices are already trebled. The price of deer-meat was, therefore, prohibitive, and the exiles were living throughout the winterupon fish caught the preceding summer, unsalted, and therefore quiteunfit for human consumption. And this at mid-day was their solenourishment, breakfast and supper consisting of one glass of weak teaand a small piece of gritty black bread! Sugar was such a luxury that alump was held in the teeth while the liquid was swallowed, one piecethus serving for several days in succession. Were a house and clothingprovided, even the miserable pittance provided by the Government mightsuffice to keep body and soul together, but this is not the case. Someof the exiles were accordingly occupying almost roofless sheds that hadbeen vacated by the Yakutes, while many were so poorly clad that inwinter time they were unable to leave their miserable huts. 

The house occupied by Monsieur Strajevsky, a Polish gentleman, whosepersonality I shall always recall with sincere regard and sympathy, willserve as a type of the better class of dwelling occupied by theseexiles. It consisted of a low, mud-plastered log hut about 6 ft. Inheight, 14 ft. By 10 ft. Was the measurement of the one room itcontained, with a floor of beaten earth, glistening with the filth ofyears. A yellow light filtered dimly, even on the brightest day, throughthe slab of ice which formed the solitary window, but it revealed onlytoo clearly the dirt and squalor of the room. Some planks on trestlesformed my friend's sleeping-place, and more planks strewn with books andwriting materials, his table. An old kerosene tin was the only chair, and as I seated myself my friend went to the mud hearth and kindled afew sticks, which burned brightly for a few moments and then flickeredout. He then left the hut, climbed on to the roof, and closed thechimney with a bundle of rags. This is the Yakute mode of warming anapartment, and it is practised for economy, for Sredni-Kolymsk is nearthe tree line, and firewood, like everything else, is an expensivearticle. Even timber is so costly here that towards sunset everyinhabitant of Sredni-Kolymsk fired up preparatory to blocking up hischimney for the night. The outlook from our hut was at this hour a weirdand unique one, as an avenue of fires rose from the mud hovels andascended in sheets of flame to the starlit sky. But this illuminationwas stifled in a few seconds by dense clouds of smoke. This method ofobtaining warmth is scarcely a success, for I sat during my visit toStrajevsky in an atmosphere minus 47° Fahrenheit by my thermometer. Andin this miserable den my Polish friend, once a prosperous barrister inWarsaw, had passed eight of the best years of his life, and is still, ifalive, dragging out a hopeless existence. 

In summer time life here is perhaps less intolerable than during thewinter, for the Kolyma River teems with fish, and edible berries areobtainable in the woods. Geese, duck, and other wild fowl are plentifulin the spring, and as fire-arms are not prohibited, game at this seasonis a welcome addition to a generally naked larder. Manual labour, too, is procurable, and an exile may earn a few roubles by fishing, trapping, wood-cutting, &c. ; but the dark winter months must be passedin a condition of inactive despair. During the winter season there aretwo mails from Russia brought by the Cossacks in charge of the yearlyconsignment of exiles, but in spring, summer, and early autumnSredni-Kolymsk is as completely cut off from the outer world, as adesert island in mid-ocean, by swamps and thousands of shallow lakeswhich extend landwards on every side for hundreds of miles. Areindeer-sled skims easily over their frozen surface, but in the openseason a traveller sinks knee-deep at every step into the wet spongyground. 

Summer here is no glad season of sunshine and flowers, only a few briefweeks of damp and cloudy weather, for even on fine days the sun loomsthrough a curtain of mist. Rainy weather prevails, and the leaky hutsare often flooded for days together by an incessant downfall. Swarms ofmosquitoes and sand flies are added to other miseries, for there is noprotection against these pests by night or day, save by means of_dimokuris_, a bundle of leaves, moss, and damp pine logs which isignited near a hut and envelops it in a perpetual cloud of pungent andstifling smoke. At this season of the year there is much sickness, especially a kind of low fever produced by the _miasma_ from thesurrounding marshes. Epidemics are frequent, and during our staysmallpox was raging, but chiefly amongst the native population. Leprosyis as prevalent here as in Central Asia, but Russians suffer chieflyfrom bronchitis and diphtheria, which never fail to make theirappearance with the return of spring. Every one suffers continuallyfrom catarrh, irrespective of age or race, indeed we all had itourselves. And yet in this hotbed of pestilence there is no Governmentinfirmary, nor is any provision whatever made for the sick. Mr. Miskievitch (a young medical student and himself an exile) was attendingthe community, but a total lack of medical and surgical appliancesrendered his case a hopeless one. I inquired for the old hospital andwas shown a barn-like construction partly open to the winds and occupiedby a family of filthy but thriving Yakutes. The new infirmary for whicha large sum of money was subscribed in St. Petersburg ten years agoadjoined the older building, but the former was still in its initialstage of foundations and four corner posts, where it will probablyreign, the silent witness of a late _ispravnik's_ reign and rascality. 

But there exists a mental disease far more dreaded than any bodilyaffliction, or than even death itself, by this little colony of martyrs. This is a form of hysteria chiefly prevalent amongst women, but commonto all, officials, exiles, and natives alike, who reside for any lengthof time in this hell upon earth. [42] The attack is usually unexpected; aperson hitherto calm and collected will suddenly commence to shout, sing, and dance at the most inopportune moment, and from that time themind of the patient becomes permanently deranged. A curious phase ofthis disease is the irresistible impulse to mimic the voice and actionsof others. Thus I witnessed a painful scene one night in the home of anexile who had assembled some comrades to meet me, and, in the street oneday, a peasant woman, born and bred here, seized my arm and repeated, with weird accuracy, a sentence in French which I was addressing to deClinchamp. This strange affliction is apparently unknown in other Arcticsettlements. It is probably due to gloomy surroundings and the eternalsilence which enfolds this region. The malady would seem to beessentially local, for the daughter of a Sredni-Kolymsk official who wasattacked, immediately recovered on her removal to Yakutsk. On the otherhand, sufferers compelled to remain here generally become, after a fewyears, hopelessly insane. In the opinion of Dr. Miskievitch theaffliction is largely due to a total inertia of the reasoning faculties, which after a time becomes a positive torture to the educated mind. 

[Footnote 42: The Russian explorer, Von Wrangell, mentions an apparentlysimilar mental disease as existing in these regions in 1820. He writes:"There is here, indeed (Sredni-Kolymsk), as in all Northern Siberia, that singular malady called _mirak_, which, according to the universalsuperstition of the people, proceeds from the ghost of a much-dreadedsorceress, which is supposed to enter into and torment the patient. The_mirak_ appears to me to be only an extreme degree of hysteria; thepersons attacked are chiefly women. "--"Siberia and the Polar Sea, " byVon Wrangell, 1829. ]

This evil could undoubtedly be remedied. For instance, were mental workof any kind, even unremunerative, provided by the Government it would beeagerly welcomed by every exile with whom I conversed, but theauthorities seem to consider apathy of the mind as essential apunishment as privation of the body. Some years ago the exiles here werepermitted to instruct young children of the Free Community, and theirlife was thus rendered infinitely less unbearable than before, butshortly afterwards, and for no apparent reason, an order was issuedfrom St. Petersburg to cancel this "privilege. "

I found, oddly enough, an almost total lack of resentment amongst thevictims consigned here by an infamous travesty of justice. MadameAkimova, for instance, a plain but homely-looking person, seemed devotedto the care of her miserable little household to the exclusion of allmundane matters. I sometimes wondered, as I sat in her hut, and watchedthe pale, patient little woman clad in rusty black ceaselessly strivingto make his home less wretched for her husband, whether this couldreally be Theisa Akimova, the famous Nihilist, whose name had one time, and not so very long ago, electrified Europe. We often spoke of Paris, which Akimova knew well, but she evinced little or no interest in thepolitical questions of the day, and I never once heard her murmur a wordof complaint. Nevertheless she is here for life. Zimmermann was anotherexample of mute resignation, but I fancy that in his case years of exilehad somewhat dulled the edge of a once powerful intellect. Strajevsky, Miskievitch, and the others were enduring a life of captivity andsuffering for offences which, in any country but Russia, would scarcelyhave subjected them to a fine, and yet they never in my hearing showedvindictiveness towards those who had sent them into exile. And it is asignificant fact that, although the higher officials of State weresometimes execrated, I never once heard a member of the Imperial familyspoken of with the slightest animosity, or even disrespect. A reason forthis is perhaps to be found in the following incident: Upon oneoccasion I expressed my surprise to an exile that his Majesty the Tsar, a ruler renowned for his humanity and tolerance, should sanction theexistence of such a place of exile as Sredni-Kolymsk. 

"The Emperor!" was the answer with a bitter laugh; "you may be quitesure that the Emperor does not know what goes on, or we should not behere for a day longer. "

Although the expedition remained here for only ten days, it seemed, onthe day of our departure, as though as many months had elapsed since ourarrival. Each day seemed an eternity, for my visit to the huts of theexiles always took place, for obvious reasons, after dark. During thehours of daylight there was absolutely nothing to do but to staremoodily out of the window at the wintry scene as cheerless as a lunarlandscape. Outdoor exercise is undesirable in a place where you cannotwalk three hundred yards in any direction without floundering into asnow-drift up to your waist. So during the interminable afternoons Iusually found my way to the tiny hut known as the Library. It containedseven or eight hundred books on dull and dreary subjects which, however, had been read and reread until most of the volumes were torn andcoverless. Amongst the numerous photographs of exiles past and presentthat were nailed to the log wall one object daily excited my curiosity. This was a funeral wreath composed of faded wild flowers secured by ablack silk ribbon, and bearing the golden inscription "Auf Wiedersehen"in German characters. One evening at the house of an official I happenedto mention this withered garland, and learned that it had been laidupon the coffin of a young exile by his comrades only a few weekspreviously. The sad circumstances under which this youth met his death, and the startling _dénouement_ which followed the latter, form one ofthe darkest tragedies that has occurred of recent years in the annals ofSiberian exile. I give the story word for word as it was related to meby the successor of the infamous Ivanoff who figures in the tale. 

In the winter of 1900 there came to Sredni-Kolymsk one SergeKaleshnikoff, who, previous to his preliminary detention at the prisonof Kharkoff, had held a commission in the Russian Volunteer Fleet. Foralleged complicity with a revolutionary society known as the "Will ofthe People"[43] Kaleshnikoff was sentenced to imprisonment for twelvemonths in a European fortress, and subsequent banishment for eight yearsto Siberia. 

[Footnote 43: Russian: _Narodna-Volya_. ]

Kaleshnikoff was a young man of about twenty-three years of age, whosesympathetic nature and attractive manners soon rendered him a universalfavourite. Even the officials regarded him more as a friend than aprisoner--with one exception. This was Ivanoff, the Chief of Police, whose marked aversion to the young sailor was noticeable from the firstday the latter set foot in the settlement. But as Ivanoff was anignorant and surly boor, disliked even by his colleagues, Kaleshnikoffendured his petty persecutions with comparative equanimity. 

One day during the summer of 1901, while fishing from a canoe on theKolyma, Kaleshnikoff espied the barge of Ivanoff returning fromNijni-Kolymsk, a settlement about three hundred miles down the river. The exile, who was expecting a letter from a fellow "political"domiciled at the latter place, paddled out into mid-stream and boardedthe barge, leaving his canoe to trail astern. Ivanoff, who met him atthe gangway, had been drinking heavily, as was his wont. His only answerto Kaleshnikoff's polite inquiry was an oath, and a shameful epithet, towhich the other naturally replied with some warmth. An angry discussionfollowed, with the result that the Chief of Police, now livid with rage, summoned the guard. By Ivanoff's orders Kaleshnikoff was then bound handand foot, flogged with rope's ends into a state of insensibility, andflung, bruised and bleeding, into his boat. The latter was then castadrift, and the police barge proceeded on her way up the river. 

The incident occurred some miles below Sredni-Kolymsk. The next evening, as Madame Boreisha and M. Ergin (both exiles, and the latter an intimatefriend of Kaleshnikoff) were strolling by the riverside, they met thelatter, who, weakened by exhaustion and loss of blood, had taken morethan twenty-four hours to return to the settlement. Ergin, shocked byhis friend's wild and blood-stained appearance, pressed him for anexplanation, but Kaleshnikoff, with a vacant stare, waved him aside, andwith a despairing gesture disappeared into his hut, only a few yardsdistant. A few minutes later a pistol-shot was heard, and Ergin, instinctively fearing the worst, rushed to his friend's assistance, onlyto find that the latter had taken his life. Beside the dead man was asheet of paper bearing the words, hastily scrawled in pencil:"Farewell! I go to a happier land. "[44]

[Footnote 44: I was told that the majority of the suicides amongst theexiles here occur towards the end of their term of banishment, a factwhich seemed incredible until I learned that sentences are frequentlyprolonged for an indefinite period, just at the time when the exile isexpecting release. The suspense and uncertainty attending the lastmonths of captivity are thus a frequent cause of self-destruction, especially amongst women and the younger men. ]

An inquiry followed, and Ivanoff was placed under temporary arrest. Unfortunately for the Chief of Police, this order did not entailconfinement to the house, or he might have escaped the tragic fate whichovertook him on the afternoon of the very day that his victim was laidto rest in a lonely grave in the suicides' graveyard[45] on the banks ofthe river. As luck would have it, the hated official was loungingoutside his doorway, smoking a cigarette, as Ergin, a gun on hisshoulder, strolled homeward from the marshes. The latter asserts thatthe act was unpremeditated, for at the time his thoughts were far away. But Ergin adds: "The sudden appearance of that evil face and therecollection of its owner's foul and inhuman cruelty suddenly inspiredme with uncontrollable fury, and I raised my fowling-piece and shot theman dead, just as he had divined my purpose and turned to rush indoors. "Ergin has ere this been tried for murder at Yakutsk, but I was assuredthat he would be acquitted, for Ivanoff's conduct would in any case havemet with severe punishment at the hands of the authorities in St. Petersburg. Physical brutality is, as regards Russian political exiles, a thing of the past, and an official guilty of it now lays himself opento instant dismissal, or even to a term of imprisonment. 

[Footnote 45: Only suicides are buried in this plot of ground, whichcontains over a score of graves. ]

Such is a plain and unvarnished account of the penal settlement ofSredni-Kolymsk, an accursed spot which should assuredly and withoutdelay be erased from the face of civilisation. The above tragedy is butone of many that have occurred of recent years, and although space willnot admit of my giving the details of others, I can vouch for the factthat since the year 1898 no fewer than three cases of suicide and fourof insanity have occurred here amongst about a score of exiles. And yetevery winter more miserable hovels are prepared for the reception ofcomrades; every year Sredni-Kolymsk enfolds fresh victims in her deadlyembrace. "You will tell them in England of our life, " said one, his eyesdim with tears, as I entered the dog-sled which was to bear me throughweeks of desolation to the Bering Straits. And the promise then made inthat lifeless, forsaken corner of the earth, where, as the exiles say, "God is high and the Tsar is far away, " I have now faithfully kept. Forthe first time in thirty years I am able to give an "unofficial" accountof the life of these unfortunates, and to deliver to the world theirpiteous appeal for deliverance. May it be that these pages have not beenwritten in vain, that the clemency of a wise and merciful Ruler may yetbe extended towards the unfortunate outcasts in that Siberian hell offamine, pestilence, and darkness, scarcely less terrible in its ghastlyloneliness than those frozen realms of eternal silence which enshrinethe mystery of the world. 

CHAPTER IX

THE LOWER KOLYMA RIVER

"Why don't you try to escape, " I once asked an exile at Sredni-Koylmsk, "and make your way across Bering Straits to America?" For I was awarethat, once in the United States, a Russian "political" is safe from theclutch of the bear. [46]

[Footnote 46: A political exile escaping to the United States can become(in ten years) an American citizen. ]

"You do not know the coast, " was the reply, "or you would not ask me thequestion. " My friend was right. A month later I should certainly nothave done so. 

Indeed, had I been aware, at this stage of the journey, of theformidable array of obstacles barring the way to the north-easternmostextremity of Asia, I might perhaps even now have hesitated beforeembarking upon what eventually proved to be the most severe anddistressing of all my experiences of travel. It does not look much onthe map, that strip of coast-line which extends from the Kolyma River toBering Straits (especially when viewed from the depths of a cosyarmchair); and yet I don't think there is a mile throughout its lengthwhich is not associated in my mind with some harassing anxiety, peril orprivation. 

Provisions of all kinds had become so scarce that a special permit fromthe _ispravnik_ was necessary in order to enable us to purchase even apound of flour. Luckily a relief convoy had arrived from Yakutsk duringthe week preceding our departure or a total lack of food must havebrought the expedition to a final standstill. However, after endlessdifficulties and a lavish expenditure of rouble-notes, I managed toprocure provisions enough to last us on short rations, with the additionof our own remaining stores, for about three weeks. I also secured acask of _vodka_ (or rather pure alcohol) to trade with the Tchuktchis, for a sum which, in England, would have stocked a moderate-sized cellar. Within three weeks I hoped to reach the first native settlement, said tobe six hundred miles distant. Should we fail to do so starvation seemedunpleasantly probable, or death from exposure, our sole shelter being aflimsy canvas tent more suitable for a Thames picnic than an Arcticclime. And so we set out from Sredni-Kolymsk with seven men, five sledsand sixty-four dogs. One of the sleds was loaded down with provisions, our precious cask of _vodka_, and sundry deal cases containingclasp-knives, cheap revolvers, glass beads, wooden pipes, &c. , for thenatives, who do not use money. A sack of _mahorka_ was also taken alongfor the same purpose. This is a villainous leaf tobacco so rank and sourthat it must be soaked in warm water before smoking; and yet, longbefore we reached the Straits, it became far too precious to waste onthe Tchuktchis! Another sled was packed with dog-food, consisting ofinferior salt-fish, which we were also compelled to share with the teamsbefore Tchaun Bay was reached. My greatest anxiety, next to the foodsupply, was regarding fuel. Every drop of oil had been exhausted somedays before reaching Sredni-Kolymsk, where no more was procurable, sothat artificial heat, that essential of Arctic travel, would have to beentirely derived from the sodden drift-wood occasionally found on theshores of the Polar Sea. I did not care to think much about what wouldhappen if this commodity failed us for any length of time. All thingsconsidered, it is no exaggeration to say that my expedition was about assuitably equipped for the work before it as a man who, in England, goesout duck shooting in the depth of winter in a silk night-shirt!

Here, as at Verkhoyansk, our departure was witnessed by officials, exiles and natives. Even the politicals took an active interest in thishitherto unattempted journey, although perhaps this was partly due tothe fact that certain sealed missives, destined for Europe, were snuglyconcealed about my person. Poor Strajevsky, whom I had learned to regardmore as a friend than as an acquaintance, made a sketch of our departurewhich he promised to forward to me, but of course the drawing neverreached its destination. Where is now, I often wonder, the unfortunateartist? He had lived for some time at Montrouge, in Paris, in order tostudy the French language, but I was unable to trace any of the friendsthere to whom he sent messages announcing his terrible fate. 

From Sredni-Kolymsk, which we left on March 22, our way lay along theKolyma River[47] to Nijni-Kolymsk, [48] an almost deserted collection oflog huts surrounding a ruined wooden chapel. Our sleds were now lightlybuilt, uncovered contrivances to carry two men, about a dozen dogs beingharnessed to each. With a good team one may cover a long distance duringthe day over level ground, but our poor half-starved brutes travelled soslowly that my heart sank when I thought of the distance before them. Throughout that dismal time America used to seem as unattainable as theNorth Pole itself! I now directed that the sleds should travel in acertain order. Mine was the leading _narta_, and Nos. 2, 3 and 4 wereoccupied by de Clinchamp, Harding and Stepan respectively. Numbers 4 and5 were provision-sleds which should have headed, not brought up the rearof the caravan, although I did not discover this mistake, which nearlycost us dearly, until after the passage across Tchaun Bay. 

[Footnote 47: The River Kolyma, like the Indigirka, has its source inthe Stanovoi Mountains. ]

[Footnote 48: "Sredni" signifies "Middle, " and "Nijni" "Lower" Kolymsk, according to their situations on the Kolyma River. ]

Harding and Stepan each drove a sled, the three other drivers beinghalf-breed Kolyma-Russians, of whom two were of the usual stolid, sulkytype. The third, who accompanied me, was a character. A squat littlebundle of furs, with beady black eyes twinkling slyly from a face towhich incessant cold and bad brandy had imparted the hues of a brilliantsunset. Local rumour gave Mikouline forty years, but he might have beenany age, certainly an octogenarian in such primitive vices as werefeasible within the restricted area of his Arctic home. Mikouline hadonce travelled some distance down the coast, and was therefore installedas guide. He and the other drivers agreed to accompany us as far as thefirst Tchuktchi settlement, where I hoped to procure assistance andtransport from the natives. And at first I believed in my driver, for hewas a cheery, genial little fellow, so invariably facetious that I oftensuspected his concealment of a reserve stock of _vodka_. And althoughMikouline's casual methods concerning time and distance wereoccasionally disquieting, he was a past master in the art of drivingdogs, which is not always an easy one. The rudiments of the craft aresoon picked up, but, as I afterwards found to my cost, a team willdiscover a change of driver the moment the latter opens his mouth, andbecome accordingly unmanageable. Illustrations of dog-sleds in theArctic generally depict the animals as bounding merrily away at fullspeed, to be restrained or urged on at the will of their driver, butthis is a pure fallacy, for a sled-dog's gallop is like a donkey's, short and sweet. The average gait is a shuffling trot, covering fromfive to seven miles an hour over easy ground; and even then desperatefights frequently necessitate a stoppage and readjustment of the traces. There are no reins, the dogs being fastened two abreast on either sideof a long rope. To start off you seize the sled with both hands, give ita violent wrench to one side, and cry "Petak!" when the team starts off(or should start off) at full gallop, and you jump up and gain your seatas best you may. To stop, you jab an iron brake into the snow or ice andcall out "Tar!" But the management of this brake needs some skill, andwith unruly dogs an inexperienced driver is often landed on his back inthe snow, while the sled proceeds alone upon its wild career. Laplanders and the Eskimo have each their method of dog driving, but theabove was that practised by ourselves and by the Tchuktchis on theSiberian coast. 

The journey of three hundred miles to Nijni-Kolymsk was accomplished infive days, and it was pleasant enough, for every night was passed in thehut of some fisherman or trapper who regaled us with tea and frozenfish. The Kolyma settler is generally a half-breed; an uncouth buthospitable being who leads a queer existence. During the short summerhis days are passed on the river in canoes, fishing and trapping, but inwinter furs are donned and dog-sled and rifle become a means oflivelihood. Fish is the staple article of food, and when the summercatch has been a poor one a winter famine is the invariable result, andthis is what had marred our progress. Nevertheless, a famine here isgenerally due to laziness, for the river teems with fish of all kinds, sturgeon and salmon-trout predominating, and there is also the _tchir_, a local delicacy. The busiest fishing season is in the early autumn, when herrings ascend the river in such shoals that forty or fiftythousand are frequently taken in a couple of days with a single net. Ourdogs were fed on this fish, which appeared to be much larger than theEuropean species. In the spring-time the Kolyma settler can revel ingame, for swans, geese, duck and snipe abound, although weapons here arevery primitive and the muzzle-loader prevails. Elk and Polar bear areoccasionally shot in the winter, but the former have become scarce, andthe latter only frequent the sea-coast. 

Every hut, or even shed, we passed on the Kolyma had a name, which dulyappears on the table of distances in the Appendix, but there are onlytwo so-called villages between Middle and Lower Kolymsk, Silgisit andKrest, making the stages of the journey 90, 180, and 240 milesrespectively. A little drive like the final stage of, say, London toDurham with such short rests would probably knock up an English horse, but even our weakly teams were fit to continue after twenty-four hoursat Lower Kolymsk. Krest, so named from a large wooden cross which standsamidst a few log huts, was reached on March 24, and here we werehospitably entertained by the inhabitants, who all appeared to live inone house, the interior of which was cosy enough; and I here noticed forthe first time that the windows were made, not of ice, but of fish skin. The other huts were deserted, for Krest is a fishing village only fullypopulated in summer-time. There seemed to be a fair lot of cattle andhorses about the inhabited dwelling, where we shared the usual eveningmeal of frozen fish, to which a goodly portion of roast deer had beenadded in our honour. The meat would have been excellent had it notreeked of wild thyme, a favourite ingredient on the Kolyma, but thefrozen berries served with it as a _compôte_ were delicious. These werea species of bilberry, but my host informed me that a dozen edible kindsare found within a couple of miles of the village, a kindly provision ofnature, as vegetables are here unknown. There were also edible roots, one of which I tasted, but have no desire to repeat the experiment. Iwas surprised at the sleek appearance of my host's cattle, but he toldme that the plains around Krest afforded good, but coarse, pasturage, and sufficient hay to last throughout the winter months. 

When we left Krest the night was bitterly cold, but clear and starlit, and that evening is memorable on account of a strange dream whichdisturbed my slumbers as I lay snugly ensconced in the sleeping-bagwhich was now my nightly couch. Perhaps the roast deer and bilberrieshad transported my astral self to the deck of a P. And O. Liner atColombo, where the passengers were warmly congratulating me on asuccessful voyage across Asia. "You have now only Bering Straits to getover, " said one, pledging me in champagne, and the geographicalinconsistency did not strike me until a captain in gold lace, with theface of a Yakute, pointed out the little difference of several thousandmiles lying between Ceylon and our projected goal. The shock of thisdiscovery awoke me in terror, to shiver until dawn, yet heartilythankful that Colombo and I were still where we should be! Not that ashort interval of tropical warmth would have been unwelcome that night, for although the cold was not so severe as it had been inland, I foundon halting for breakfast that a mirror in a small bag under my pillowwas coated with a thin film of ice. 

Grey skies and frequent snow-flurries were experienced as we nearedNijni-Kolymsk, and as each mile was covered the vegetation on eitherside grew scantier, for even at Srendi-Kolymsk the pine forests had losttheir grandeur. Here they dwindled away to scanty fir-trees, stuntedlarches and grey-green willows drooping in the snow. There is no saddersight in creation than a sunset in these regions, when the heart seemsto sink in sympathy with the dying day, and a dull despair to deaden themind, as darkness creeps over a frozen world. 

On the morning of Friday, March 28, we reached Nijni-Kolymsk, aboutthirty log huts in various stages of decay. This settlement, which wasfounded by Cossacks about the middle of the seventeenth century, issurrounded by low scrub, and, as at Sredni-Kolymsk, the buildings leftstanding are so low that they are invisible from the level of the river, which is here about two miles wide. The surroundings, however, are morepicturesque than those of Middle Kolymsk, for a picturesque chain ofmountains breaks the horizon to the eastward, although the remainder ofthe landscape consists of level and marshy tundra. In the reign of theEmpress Catherine Nijni-Kolymsk contained over five hundred sturdyCossacks and their families; it was peopled at the time of our visit byabout fifty poor souls, whose gaunt and spectral appearance told of aconstant struggle against cold, hunger and darkness. Nijni-Kolymsk hadonce apparently boasted of a main street, but the wooden huts had fallenbodily, one by one, till many now formed mere heaps of mud and timber;those still erect being prevented from utter collapse by wooden beamspropped against them. 

We found the entire community, consisting of half-breeds, Yakutes andTunguses, gathered outside the hut of the only Russian in the place, oneJacob Yartsegg, who was banished here for life for smuggling rifles forrevolutionary purposes into Russia. Yartsegg, a tall elderly man inragged deerskins, informed me that the village possessed no _ispravnik_but himself, at which I could scarcely restrain a smile. There wassomething so "Gilbertian" in the idea of a prisoner acting as his ownjailer! This man spoke a little English and apologised for the damp anddarkness of the only hut he had to offer us. And in truth it was apiteous hovel half filled with snow, which was soon melted by the heatof our fire, rendering the floor, as usual, a sea of mud. There was nota mouthful of food to spare in the place, and we ate from our ownstores. Yartsegg's dwelling was shared by a miserable creature who hadlost a hand and leg in a blizzard the previous year. The wounds, with notreatment, had not even yet healed, and it made me shudder to think ofthe agony the poor fellow must have endured, with cold and hunger to addto his misery. But although the sufferer was a young man, now maimed forlife, he never complained save when pain in the festering limbs becameexcruciating. Under such conditions a European would probably havesuccumbed in a few weeks, but Arctic Siberia must be visited tothoroughly realise the meaning of the words "suffering" and "patience. "

The cold is not generally so severe at Nijni-Kolymsk as at thesettlement up river (Yartsegg's record showed 42° F. As the minimumtemperature of the month of March), but the climate here is lessendurable on account of violent snowstorms which occasionally occur evenin summer, and dense fogs which, during spring and autumn, continuallysweep in from the Polar Sea. The sun remains above the horizon forfifty-two days, and the rest of the year varies from twilit nights inJune to almost complete darkness in midwinter. The village was certainlynot an attractive one, and as its occupants evinced a decided tendencyto encroach on our provisions I resolved to remain in it only a coupleof days. But here occurred the first of a series of _contretemps_ whichdogged my footsteps throughout the coast journey, for the drivers nowrefused to carry out their contract, urging that even if a Tchuktchisettlement were safely reached the natives there would certainly murderus. [49] Here was an apparently insurmountable difficulty, for Mikouline, who acted as spokesman, simply snapped his fingers at Yartsegg'sauthority. Threats were therefore useless, and kindness equally futilewhere this little scoundrel was concerned. In _vodka_ lay my sole hopeof victory, and the "exile-jailer" luckily possessed a limited store, some of which I purchased, and set to work to subjugate the unrulyMikouline by the aid of alcohol; an immoral proceeding no doubt, but noother course was open. For I knew that my driver's example would at oncebe followed by the others who, like sheep, blindly followed him ineverything. It would weary the reader to describe my hopes and fearsduring the ten interminable days and nights that the war was waged. Buthe will appreciate what they meant to the writer from the fact thatevery day, even every hour, was now of utmost importance, owing to thelate season and probable break up of the sea-ice at no distant date. Also we were rapidly consuming the provisions which were to form oursole subsistence in the desolate Arctic. It therefore became necessaryto place each man on half rations, consisting of two frozen fish, onepound of black bread and a quarter of a pound of _Carnyl_ per diem. Mytriumph over Mikouline cost me several gallons of _vodka_, to saynothing of hours of disgust and annoyance passed in close companionshipwith the now maudlin, now abusive, little half-breed. To make mattersworse, the weather during that wasted fortnight was still, clear, andperfect for travelling, and the very morning of our departure it brokeup with a gale and blinding snowstorm which occasioned another irksomedelay down river. Just as we were starting, the now sober Mikoulineagain showed symptoms of weakening, until I plied him with bumpers of_vodka_. So long as "the spirit moved him" my driver was all right; butalas! the _Vodka_ would not last for ever, and where should we be then?

[Footnote 49: The Kolyma Russians have apparently always held this tribein great awe, for as far back as 1820 Von Wrangell wrote: "Oursled-drivers were certainly not free from the deeply-rooted fear ofthese people (the Tchuktchis), generally entertained by the inhabitantsof Kolymsk. "]

Yartsegg begged me to visit some of his relatives in New York andacquaint them of his existence, but although furnished with theiraddress I could never trace these people, and the exile talked so wildlyat times that my failure to execute the commission was perhaps due tohis impaired mind and memory. But half-witted and almost repulsive asthis poor fellow had become, it went to my heart to leave him in thatGod-forsaken settlement, when on the morning of April 2nd we again setout, in the teeth of a biting north-easter, for the shores of the ArcticOcean. 

CHAPTER X

A CRUEL COAST

A few miles below Nijni-Kolymsk vegetation entirely disappears, and inwinter nothing is visible on all sides but vast and dreary plains ofsnow-covered tundra. The first night was passed in a tiny log hutbelonging to a trapper and bearing the name, like any town or village, of Tchorniusova. It was pleasant to reach even this rude shelter, thelast but one to separate us from the homeless immensity of the Arctic, for the strong breeze of the morning increased by sunset to a northerlygale which the dogs would not face. Towards midnight two Yukagirs (asmall tribe inhabiting the country due east of the Kolyma) arrived in adog-sled and begged for shelter, having with difficulty reached the hutafter several hours of battling against a furious _poorga_ which hadsucceeded a change of wind to a westerly quarter. A _poorga_ is a kindof Arctic typhoon justly dreaded on this coast, for its fury is onlyequalled by the suddenness with which it overtakes the traveller. Duringthese tempests (which sometimes last two or three days) the snow iswhirled up in such dense clouds that objects a few yards away becomeinvisible, and it is impossible to make headway, for the dogs, instinctively aware of peril, generally lie down and howl, regardless ofthe severest punishment. The trapper here told me that on one occasionhe observed, after one of these storms, an unusual mound of snow nearhis dwelling, and extricated from it the frozen remains of a Yukagirdriver and five dogs. The former had lain down to die within fifty yardsof shelter and salvation. 

The weather improved towards daybreak and enabled us to make an earlystart. A hard day's travelling followed, for the wind had cleared theriver of snow, and we sledded over slippery black ice, which would havemade a schoolboy's mouth water, but sadly impeded the dogs. Nearing theocean the Kolyma widens by several miles, and here we made our firstacquaintance with the ice-hummocks or "torosses" formed by the breakersof the Polar Sea. Towards sunset a black speck was sighted on the snowywaste, and two hours later we reached Sukharno, the Tsar's remotestoutpost on the shores of the Arctic Ocean, about eight thousand milesfrom Petersburg. Here there was a single hut, so low in stature andburied in the drifts that we had to crawl into it through a tunnel ofsnow. The occupant was an aged Cossack who lived amid surroundings thatwould have revolted an English pig, but we often recalled even thisdark, fetid den as a palace of luxury in the gloomy days to come. 

We were awakened the following morning by the roaring of the wind, foranother _poorga_ had swooped down during the night, which kept usprisoners here for the three following days. It was madness to think ofstarting in such weather, and there was nothing for it but to wait fora lull, alternately smoking, sleeping, and cursing Mikouline, the causeof the delay. Fortunately the hut was weather-proof, and but forperpetual anxiety I could almost have enjoyed the rest and warmth out ofreach of the icy blast. But who could sit down in peace or sleep formore than five consecutive minutes when tortured by the thought that the_poorga_ might rage for an indefinite period and that the journey toTchaun Bay must occupy at least three weeks, while our stock of food wasslowly but surely diminishing? Even the scanty allowance I had fixedupon for each man was doled out by Harding reluctantly, and with adoubtful glance, as much as to say, "Will it last?" a question which forthe past week had dinned itself into my brain several thousand timeswithin the twenty-four hours. Here again Mikouline showed signs ofmutiny, and I was compelled to broach our store of _vodka_ to keep himup to the mark, which I did so successfully that my driver started fromSukharno in an advanced state of intoxication, after a bout offisticuffs with his aged host. But the little scoundrel would certainlynot have started in a sober condition. 

We left Sukharno on the morning of April 6, in a strong north-westerlygale accompanied by driving snow, but later in the day the skybrightened and we forged ahead as rapidly as rough sea ice would permit. Soon it became much colder, a favourable sign, for here a fallingthermometer invariably precedes clear, still weather. But it seemed agesbefore we lost sight of Sukharno, and while it was still in sight Ioften glanced back for a last look at that lonely snow-covered hut, forit was our last link with civilisation, indeed with humanity. This is, however, not strictly correct, for later in the day we passed the woodenbeacon erected by the Russian explorer Lieutenant Laptief in the year1739. The tower, which stands on a prominent cliff, is still in aremarkable state of preservation and is visible for a great distancearound. And talking of Laptief reminds me of other travellers who haveexplored these frozen wastes. I had before leaving Europe ransacked thebook-stores of London and Paris, but had failed to obtain any practicalknowledge of the country which we were about to traverse. Nordenskjold's"North-East Passage, or the Voyage of the _Vega_, " was invariablyproduced by every bookseller I questioned, but as the Swedish explorersnever left their ship, this work, as a guide, was quite useless to me. So far, therefore, as finding the Tchuktchis was concerned I was much inthe position of a wild Patagonian who, set down at Piccadilly Circus, istold to make his way unassisted to the Mansion House. For althoughMikouline affected a knowledge of the coast, I doubt if he knew muchmore than I did. My literary researches showed me that the journey wewere undertaking had only twice been performed by Europeans, or ratherAmericans (in a reverse direction) about twenty years ago. This was whenthe U. S. Surveying ship _Rodgers_ was destroyed by fire in the ice ofBering Straits, and Captain Berry (her commander) and Mr. W. Gilder(correspondent of the _New York Herald_) started off in midwinter toreport her loss, travelling through Siberia to Europe, which wasreached, after many stirring adventures, in safety. 

The works of the earlier explorers afforded me almost as littleassistance as the "Voyage of the _Vega_. " In a volume, however, writtenby the famous Russian explorer Admiral Von Wrangell, I gleaned that, "The first attempt to navigate the Polar Ocean to the east of the Kolymawas made in 1646 by a company of fur hunters under the guidance of IssaiIgnatiew. The sea was covered with thick drift-ice, nevertheless thetravellers found a narrow passage, through which they advanced for twodays, when they ran into a bay surrounded by rocks and obtained bybarter some walrus teeth from the Tchuktchis dwelling there. Theirignorance of the language of the natives and the warlike disposition ofthe latter made it appear prudent not to venture further, and Ignatiewreturned to the Kolyma. From his imperfect report it is difficult tojudge how far his voyage extended. From the time expended, however, itis probable that he reached Tchaun Bay. "

The subsequent expedition and fate of the Russian explorer Schalarof arethus chronicled by the same author:

"The ice in the Kolyma did not break up in 1762 until July 21, whenSchalarof put to sea and steered for a whole week on a N. -E. AndN. -E. -by-¼-E. Course. On August 19 the ship was completely beset bylarge fields of ice. In this dangerous situation, rendered more alarmingby a dense fog which concealed the shore, they continued until the 23rd, when they found means to work themselves out of the ice and to gainopen water again. They tacked for some time among the fields of ice, inthe hope of making and doubling Cape Shelagskoi; but being detained byice and contrary winds, the advanced season at length obliged Schalarofto seek for a convenient wintering place. This he hoped to find in aninlet on the west side of the cape which led into Tchaun Bay, firstvisited and surveyed by him. On the 25th he passed between the mainlandand the island of Arautan. On the 26th he struck upon a sand-bank, fromwhich it cost the crew much labour to get afloat again. Schalarof wenton shore, but finding neither trees nor drift-wood, was obliged to sailfurther, in search of some place provided with this indispensablerequisite. He shaped his course along the southern shore of the bay, asfar as the island of Sabadei. Finally, he resolved to return to theKolyma, which he entered on September 12, and reoccupied his quarters ofthe preceding winter. "

"On the return of spring, Schalarof desired to put to sea again, in thehope of effecting his favourite object, the doubling of Cape Shelagskoi;but his crew, weary of the hardships and privations they had endured, mutinied, and left him. This forced him to return to the Lena. He thenwent to Moscow, and having obtained some pecuniary assistance from theGovernment, undertook, in 1764, another voyage to Cape Shelagskoi, _fromwhich he never returned_. "

"For a long time none but vague rumours circulated respecting his fate. I was so fortunate in 1823 as to discover the spot, about seventy milesfrom Cape Shelagskoi, where Schalarof and his companions landed, afterthey had seen their vessel destroyed by the ice. Here, in a blackwilderness, struggling against want and misery, he ended his activelife; but a late posterity renders this well-deserved tribute ofacknowledgment to the rare disinterested spirit of enterprise by whichhe was animated. "

"On Schalarof's chart, the coast from the Yana to Cape Shelagskoi islaid down with an accuracy that does honour to its author. He was thefirst navigator that examined Tchaun Bay, and since his time no freshsoundings have been taken there. "

Apparently the Russian explorer Laptief only once made an attempt totravel by land from the Kolyma to Bering Sea, but this was by anentirely different route to ours. 

"Considering it impossible to effect by sea the task assigned him bysurveying the Anadyr River, [50] Laptief resolved on an undertakingattended by equal danger and difficulty, namely, to proceed overlandwith his whole crew, crossing the mountains, and traversing the countryof the hostile Tchuktchis. With this view he left Nijni-Kolymsk onOctober 27th, 1741, and directed his course towards the Anadyr, withforty-five _nartas_ drawn by dogs. On November 4th he arrived atLobasnoie, on the Greater Anui. As that river forms the boundary of thecountry inhabited by the wandering Tchuktchis, Laptief deemed itprudent, during his passage through what might in some measure beconsidered an enemy's territory, to observe the utmost caution, and tosubject his men to a strict military discipline. They ascended theGreater Anui, crossed the chain of mountains Yablonoi Khrebét, andreached the Anadyr Ostrog on November 17th _without having seen a singleTchuktchi on the way_. "

[Footnote 50: Which in those days was supposed to fall into the PolarSea. ]

Concerning another expedition Von Wrangell writes: "The Geodetsundertook a third excursion over the ice in 1771. Starting from theKolyma they arrived on the last of the Bear Islands on March 9th. Therethey remained six days on account of bad weather, and then started forTchaun Bay. Three days they continued in a due east direction, andhaving gone forty-eight versts, turned off to the Baranov rocks, fromwhich they were fifty versts distant, and where they arrived on the18th. Having rested there and killed a white bear, they continued theirjourney along the coast in an easterly direction, but on the 28th, theirprovisions running short, they were forced to return. On April 6th theyarrived again at Nijni-Kolymsk, after driving about 433 versts. "

All this was not very encouraging, especially the fact, recorded by VonWrangell, that a traveller named Hedenstrom once made an attempt toreach Shelagskoi about the same time of year as ourselves, but "foundthe ice already so thin that he was obliged to renounce the plan. Heeven found it difficult to retrace his own track to the Kolyma, where, however, he arrived in safety and spent the following summer. "

This was the sole information which I was able to extract from a scoreof volumes dealing with Arctic exploration, and, briefly, it came tothis: Von Wrangell had once travelled in winter, with dogs, fromNijni-Kolymsk to Koliutchin Bay (about two-thirds of the distance toBering Straits). Berry and Gilder had traversed the entire distance, from the Straits to the Kolyma River, under similar conditions; and why, therefore, should we not do likewise? There was a "but, " however, and aformidable one. These three travellers had made the coast journey in thedepth of winter (with a good three months of solid ice before them), while we were about to attempt it in the declining spring. 

On the first day, when travelling about two miles out to sea not farfrom the mouth of the Kolyma River, Harding, with an exclamation ofsurprise, drew my attention to a group of men apparently gatheredtogether on the brink of a cliff. But a moment's reflection showed methat, viewed from this distance, these figures, if human beings, musthave been giants of fifty feet high. The resemblance, however, was sostartling that we steered inshore for a closer inspection, and myglasses then revealed the rocky pinnacles which nature has so weirdlyfashioned in the shape of man. The effect in this desolate and ice-boundwilderness was uncanny in the extreme. Von Wrangell noticed thesepillars in 1820, and measuring one found it forty-three feet in height. He describes it as "something like the body of a man, with a sort of capor turban on his head, and without arms or legs, " but to us theyappeared much more lifelike. 

We made good headway during the greater part of the first day in clearand cloudless weather, but towards evening the sky became overcast and arapidly rising wind brought down another shrieking _poorga_, whichcompelled us to encamp in haste under the lee of a rocky cliff, luckilyat hand when the storm burst upon us. At this time a breastplate ofsolid ice was formed by driving snow on our deerskins, and an idea ofthe intense and incessant cold which followed may be gleaned by the factthat this uncomfortable cuirass remained intact until we entered thefirst Tchuktchi hut nearly three weeks later. But this first _poorga_, although a severe one, was nothing compared to the tempests weafterwards encountered. Nevertheless, our flimsy tent was twice blowndown before morning, its re-erection entailing badly frozen hands andfaces, for having encamped without finding drift-wood there was no fireand therefore no food. Cold and hunger precluded sleep, and I passed thecold and miserable hours vainly endeavouring to smoke a pipe blocked byfrozen nicotine. This may be taken as a fair sample of a night in dirtyweather on that cruel coast. At daybreak we commenced another hunt fordrift-wood, which was not discovered for several hours, when every onewas utterly worn out from the cold and lengthened fast. 

Sometimes a _poorga_ would rage all day, and in this case progress wasout of the question. The solitary meal would then consist of frozen fishor iron-like chunks of _Carnyl_ which were held in the mouth untilsufficiently soft to be swallowed. There was of course no means ofassuaging thirst, from which we at first suffered severely, for thesucking of ice only increases this evil. And want of water affected eventhe sleds, the runners of which should be sluiced at least once a day, so as to form a thin crust of ice which slides easily over a frozensurface. 

On April 7 we reached a landmark for which Mikouline had been searchingin some anxiety, the Bolshaya-Reka or Big River. All that day we hadbeen at sea, picking our way through mountainous bergs and hummocks, some quite sixty feet in height, while the sleds continually brokethrough into crevasses concealed by layers of frozen snow. On the rightbank of this river we found a deserted village once occupied bytrappers; half a dozen ruined huts surrounding a roofless chapel. Theplace is known as Bassarika, a corruption of Bolshaya-Reka, andMikouline had known it ten years ago as the abode of prosperous furtraders. But one hard season every living being perished from smallpoxand privation, and the priest alone escaped to carry news of thedisaster to Nijni-Kolymsk. [51]

[Footnote 51: Twenty or thirty years ago there were three or fourRussian settlements, and at least as many Tchuktchi villages between theKolyma River and Tchaun Bay, but there is now not a solitary being onthe coast throughout the whole distance of nearly six hundred miles. ]

Our drivers camped here with reluctance, for the place is said to behaunted, and its silent, spectral appearance certainly suggested anabiding-place of evil spirits. But one of the ruined huts, althoughpitch dark and partly filled with snow, offered a pleasanter shelterthan our draughty tent, and I insisted upon a halt. Drift-wood wasplentiful (it always was near the mouth of a river), and a fire was soonkindled, or rather a bad imitation of one, for this fuel only yields adull, flickering flame. This latter, however, melted the snowsufficiently to convert the floor of our shanty into a miniature lake, and we therefore left it in disgust and adjourned to the deerskin tentshared by Stepan and the drivers, hard snow being a preferable couch toseveral inches of icy-cold water. This happened to be my birthday, andHarding triumphantly produced a tiny plum pudding, frozen to theconsistency of a cannon-ball, which he had brought all the way fromEngland in honour of the occasion. But we decided to defer the feastuntil we could enjoy it in comparative comfort, perhaps on the shores ofBering Straits--if we ever reached them! My notes between Bassarika andTchaun Bay are very incomplete, for they were generally made at night, when the temperature inside the tent seemed to paralyse the brain ascompletely as it numbed the fingers. Oddly enough there is nothingcolder than paper, and when the bare hand had rested upon it for a fewmoments it had to be thrust back into a fur mit to restore circulation. 

Imagine a barren, snow-clad Sahara absolutely uninhabited for the firstsix hundred miles, and then sparsely peopled by the filthiest race increation, and you may faintly realise the region traversed by myexpedition for nearly two months of continuous travel from the lastRussian outpost to Bering Straits. Place a piece of coal sprinkled withsalt on a white tablecloth, a few inches off it scatter some lump sugar, and it will give you in miniature a very fair presentment of thescenery. The coal is the bleak coast-line continually swept clear ofsnow by furious gales; the sugar, sea-ice, and the cloth the frozenbeach over which we journeyed for over 1600 miles. The dreary outlooknever changed; occasionally the cliffs vanished and our way would lieacross the tundras--marshy plains--which in summer encircle the PolarSea with a belt of verdure and wild flowers, but which in winter-timeare merged with the frozen ocean in one boundless, bewilderingwilderness of white. In hazy weather land and sky formed oneimpenetrable veil, with no horizon as dividing line, when, even at ashort distance away, men and dog-sleds resembled flies crawling up awhite curtain. But on clear days, unfortunately rare, the blue sky wasMediterranean, and at such times the bergs out at sea would flash likejewels in the full blaze of the sunshine, while blocks of dark greenice, half buried in snow under shadow of the cliffs, would appear forall the world like _cabochon_ emeralds dropped into a mass of whippedcream. But the reverse of this picture was depressing in the extreme. For on cloudy days the snow would assume a dull leaden appearance, andthe sea-ice become a slate grey, with dense banks of woolly, white fogencircling the dismal scene. Fair and foul weather in the Arcticreminded me of some beautiful woman, bejewelled and radiant amid lightsand laughter, and the same divinity landing dishevelled, pale, andsea-sick from the deck of a Channel steamer. 

But we had little time, or indeed inclination, to admire the beauties ofnature, which are robbed of half their charms when viewed by the ownerof an empty stomach. Did not Dr. Johnson once truthfully remark that, "the finest landscape is spoiled without a good inn in the foreground"?Time also in our case meant not merely money, but life, and we weretherefore compelled to push on day after day, week after week, at thehighest rate of speed attainable by our miserable teams, which, to dothem justice, did their best. The poor beasts seemed to be instinctivelyaware that our food would only last for a limited period. When the coastwas visible we steered by it, travelling from 6 A. M. Until we struckdrift-wood, the traveller's sole salvation on this coast. Sometimes wefound it and sometimes we didn't, in any case it was seldom more thansufficient to boil a kettle, and bodily warmth from a good fire was anunknown luxury. Even a little oil would have been a godsend for heatingpurposes, but we had used up every drop we possessed before reachingSredni-Kolymsk, where no more was attainable, and I dared not waste thealcohol brought for the purpose of bartering with the Tchuktchis. I cansafely say I have never suffered, physically or mentally, as I didduring those first two weeks along the shores of North-Eastern Siberia. We were often compelled to go without food throughout the twenty-fourhours, and sometimes for thirty-six, our frozen provisions beinguneatable uncooked. At night, after a cheerless meal, we would crawlinto sleeping-bags and try to sleep in a temperature varying from 35° to45° below zero. And sometimes lying sleepless, miserable, and halffrozen under that flimsy tent, I resolved to give it all up and make anattempt to return to the Kolyma River, although even retreat would nowhave been attended with considerable peril. And yet, somehow, morningalways found us on the march again eastward. On the beach we got alongfairly well, but steep, precipitous cliffs often drove us out to sea, where the sleds had to be pushed and hauled over rough and oftenmountainous ice, about the toughest work I know of. We then travelledabout a mile an hour, and sometimes not that. The end of the daygenerally found us all cut about, bruised, and bleeding from falls overthe glassy ice; and the wounds, although generally trifling, were madedoubly painful by frost and the absence of hot water. I enter into theseapparently trivial details as at the time they appeared to us ofconsiderable importance, but the reader may think them unnecessary, justas the man who has never had toothache laughs at a sufferer. Toothache, by the way, was another minor evil that greatly increased our sufferingsduring those dark days of hunger and incessant anxiety. 

And yet, if all had gone well, all these troubles--added to intense coldand semi-starvation--would have been bearable; but everything wentwrong. First it was the dogs, as famished as ourselves, who draggedtheir tired limbs more and more heavily towards evening as the wearydays crawled on, and every morning I used to look at their gaunt flanksand hungry eyes, and think with despair of the thousand odd miles thatlay between us and Bering Straits. Then the Russian drivers, secretlybacked by Mikouline, threatened almost daily to desert us and return tothe Kolyma. One morning all three burst into my tent and vowed thatnothing should induce them to proceed a mile further. Finally, force hadto be employed to keep these cowards together, and, luckily, we werewell armed, which they were not. But this trouble necessitated a watchby night, as exhausting as it was painful in the pitiless cold. Only tendays out from the Kolyma we were living on a quarter of a pound of_Carnyl_ and a little frozen fish a day, a diet that would scarcelysatisfy a healthy child. Bread, biscuits, and everything in the shape offlour was finished a week after leaving Kolymsk, but luckily we hadplenty of tea and tobacco, which kept life within us to the last. 

Then sickness came. Owing to the frequent dearth of fuel our furs andfoot-gear were never quite dry, and during sleep our feet were oftenfrozen by the moisture formed during the day. One fireless night DeClinchamp entirely lost the use of his limbs, and a day's delay was theresult. Four days later he slipped into a crevasse while after a bearand ruptured himself. This bear, by the way, was the only living thingwe saw throughout that journey of nearly six hundred miles to TchaunBay. Then I was attacked by snow-blindness, the pain of which must beexperienced to be realised. Goggles gave me no relief, and incivilisation the malady would have necessitated medical care and adarkened room. Here it meant pushing on day after day half blinded andin great agony, especially when there was no drift-wood and therefore nohot water to subdue the inflammation. Sleep or rest of any kind wasimpossible for nearly a week, and for two days my eyes closed upentirely and I lay helpless on a sled, which was upset, on an average, twice every hour on the rough, jagged ice. At last we struck a fairquantity of wood and halted for forty-eight hours, and here I obtainedrelief with zinc and hot water, while Mikouline proceeded to rub tobaccointo his inflamed optics, a favourite cure on the Kolyma, which oddlyenough does not always fail. About this time one of the dogs wasattacked with rabies, and bit several others before we could shoot it. We lost over a dozen dogs in this way before reaching Bering Straits, this being probably due to the casual manner in which Stepan treated thedisease. When one animal had to be destroyed he coolly led it about atthe end of a string to find a suitable spot for its execution, and whenanother went mad, and I was for despatching it, suggested that we couldill spare it from the team for a few days longer! And yet, notwithstanding these hourly difficulties, privations, and hardships, Iam proud to say that I never once heard a word of complaint from asingle member of my party, although those days of constant toil andsuffering in that grave of nature, the Arctic, might well have tried theconstitution of a Sandow and the patience of a Job! And I may add thatno leader of an expedition could wish for three more courageous andunselfish companions than the Vicomte de Clinchamp, George Harding, andlast, but not least, the Cossack Stepan Rastorguyeff, whose invaluableservices throughout this journey will, I am informed, be suitablyrewarded by the Russian Government. 

About one day in four was bright and sunny, and would have been almostpleasant under other circumstances. Even our chicken-hearted driverswould become less gloomy under the genial influence of bright sunshine, and join together in the weird songs of their country until darknessagain fell, bringing with it disquieting fears of the murderousTchuktchi. Most of that memorable journey was made through a constantsuccession of snowstorms, gales and _poorgas_. We met three of thelatter between the Kolyma River and Cape North, the last one striking uson the twentieth day out, as we were crossing Tchaun Bay, on the easternshores of which I hoped to find a settlement. Although the weather justbefore had been perfectly clear and calm, in five minutes we were at themercy of such a tempest that men and dogs were compelled to halt andcrouch under the sleds to escape its fury. 

During a temporary lull we got under way again, and for seven of thelongest hours of my life we floundered on. As even a gentle zephyr uphere, blowing against the face, means considerable discomfort, andanything like a gale, acute distress, the reader may imagine what itmeant to struggle against a howling _poorga_. During those terriblehours one could only glance hastily to windward, for the hard and frozensnow cut like a whip into cheeks and eyeballs. Every few minutes theweak, half-starved dogs would lie down, and were only urged on by severepunishment which it went to my heart to see inflicted, but to reach landwas a question of life or death. Sometimes the coast would loom aheadthrough the blinding snow, but we had to steer by the compass, which, for some occult reason, was that day useless, for it pointed east andled us due north towards the sea. At last, after a journey from theopposite coast of ten hours, with faces, feet and hands badly frozen, wereached land exhausted, and, for the time being, safe. Some drift-woodand the shelter of a friendly cave were handy, or that night some of usmust inevitably have perished. But after a painful struggle up a steepcliff, waist-deep in snow, and a crawl into the cheerless refuge, thecry was raised, "A sled is lost!" and there was nothing for it but toface the _poorga_ again in search of the missing _narta_ and its driver, one of the Kolyma men. For perhaps an hour every man floundered aboutthe hummocks and crevasses of the bay with a dogged perseverance born ofthe knowledge that at this time of the year large floes are oftendetached from the main pack and blown out to sea. But at last evenStepan's pluck and endurance were exhausted (to say nothing of my own), and I blew the whistle for a general retreat to our cavern, only to findthe missing sled triced up with the others and its occupant snuglyreposing inside the rock. And right glad we were to find not only theman in charge of it but also the missing sled, which had contained thelast remnants of our provisions!

That night, after the evening meal, every mouthful of food we had leftwas two pounds of _Carnyl_ and fourteen frozen fish, and this mustsuffice for nine men and sixty ravenous dogs! Hitherto we had jokedabout cannibalism. Harding, we had said, as being the stoutest member ofthe party, was to be sacrificed, and Stepan was to be the executioner. But to-night this well-worn joke fell flat. For we had reached theeastern shores of Tchaun Bay, and this was where we should have found aTchuktchi village. When the sun rose next morning, however, not a signof human life was visible. Even Stepan's features assumed a look ofblank despair, but the plucky Cossack aroused our miserable drivers asusual with his cruel _nagaika_[52] and compelled them to make a start, although the poor wretches would willingly have resigned themselves to adeath which undoubtedly overtook them a few days later. 

[Footnote 52: Cossack whip. ]

We had lost three dogs during the blizzard on Tchaun Bay, and the restwere so weary and footsore that it seemed little short of brutal todrive them on. But to stop here meant starvation, so we struggledpainfully onwards to the eastward, growing weaker and weaker every hour. At times I felt as if I must lie down in the snow and give way to anoverpowering feeling of drowsiness, and Harding and De Clinchampafterwards confessed that they frequently experienced the same feeling. But Stepan, perhaps more inured to hardships than ourselves, was thelife and soul of our party during that long, miserable day, and it waschiefly due to his dogged determination (combined with a small slice ofluck) that on that very night, when things seemed to be on the veryverge of a fatal termination, we came upon signs of human life in theshape of a kayak with a paddle propped against it on the snowy beach. Anhour later we sighted our goal--the first Tchuktchi settlement! And therelief with which I beheld those grimy, walrus-hide huts can never bedescribed, for even this foul haven meant salvation from the horrors ofa lingering death. 

CHAPTER XI

IN THE ARCTIC

Our reception by the Tchuktchis at Cape Shelagskoi[53] was so surly thatI began to think there might be some reason for the repeated warnings ofour friends on the Kolyma. Two or three woebegone creatures in raggeddeerskins, crawled out of the huts and surveyed us with such suspicionand distrust that I verily believe they took us for visitors from thespirit world. As a rule the Tchuktchi costume is becoming, but thesepeople wore shapeless rags, matted with dirt, and their appearancesuggested years of inactivity and bodily neglect. I noticed, howeverwith satisfaction that their churlish greeting was not unmingled withfear, although they obstinately refused the food and shelter begged forby means of signs, pointing, at the same time, to a black bannerflapping mournfully over the nearest hut. This I knew (from myexperiences at Oumwaidjik in 1896) to be the Tchuktchi emblem of death. Our sulky hosts then indicated a dark object some distance away upon thesnow, which I sent Stepan to investigate, and the Cossack quicklyreturned, having found the corpses of several men and women in anadvanced stage of decomposition. An infectious disease was apparentlyraging, for several sufferers lay helpless on the ground of the firsthut we entered. I imagine the malady was smallpox, for a lengthenedexperience of Siberian prisons has made me familiar with thecharacteristic smell which accompanies the confluent form of thisdisease. On the other hand, it may have been _kor_, the mysteriousepidemic which had lately desolated the Kolyma district, and of which wehad heard even as far south as Yakutsk. 

[Footnote 53: Von Wrangell writes that during his coast journey an oldTchuktchi near here told him that he was descended from the Chelagi, or, as they are usually called by the Tchuktchi, the Tchewany, who manyyears since migrated towards the west and have not since been seen. Headds: "The first of these names has been preserved in Cape Shelagskoi, and the second in that of Tchewan or Tchaun Bay. "]

But food must be obtained at any cost. To leave this place without anadequate supply would have been sheer madness, especially as we hadascertained from the natives that the next settlement was at least nine"sleeps" (or, in Tchuktchi dialect, days) away. Our own stores had nowdwindled down to a few frozen fish, but here, for the first (and by nomeans the last) time, _vodka_ came in useful, for there lives noTchuktchi who will not sell his soul for alcohol. The fiery spiritprocured seal-meat sufficient to last us, with care, for ten days. I cansafely say that this is the most disgusting diet in creation, but wedevoured it greedily, with keen appetites sharpened by the knowledgethat twenty-four hours more would have seen us starving. 

There were about thirty people in this place who had escaped theprevailing pestilence, but all showed such a marked aversion to ourpresence that I sparingly dispensed our _vodka_. A drunken Tchuktchi isa murderous devil, and I had no desire to repeat my experiences amongstthese people of 1896, when my life was more than once in jeopardyduring their orgies. However, the natives of Erktrik (as this place iscalled), were so openly hostile that even the usually truculentMikouline, who once, under the influence of his favourite beverage, hadoffered to accompany me to a much warmer and remoter place than this, was paralysed with fear. I therefore resolved to push on early thefollowing day (April 22), but that night we were all too exhausted tokeep the usual watch, and when we awoke late the next morning our threeKolyma friends had bolted, taking some of our seal-meat with them. Therecan be no doubt that the fugitives perished trying to reach their home, for panic had deprived them of the reasoning power to steal a sled anddogs, or even a compass, which they might easily have done. The food thepoor fellows took was perhaps sufficient for a week's consumption, certainly not for a journey of at least a couple of months on foot. Amore vicious and unprincipled scoundrel than Mikouline probably neverexisted, and yet I missed him sorely afterwards, and would give a gooddeal, notwithstanding all the trouble he gave me, to know that thelittle ruffian had reached the Kolyma in safety. But this is, I fear, outside the bounds of possibility. We did not leave the next day, forErktrik, or rather Cape Shelagskoi, proved a Pandora's box of unpleasantsurprises, including another tempest, which, though not so severe as the_poorga_ which preceded it, detained us here for forty-eight hours. These were passed in scouring the coast in search of the drivers, butalthough their footsteps were visible for a couple of miles they ceasedabruptly where the runaways had taken to the ice in order to recrossTchaun Bay. 

On the morning of April 23 we left Erktrik, now each driving a sled, thefifth team being hitched on to Stepan's _narta_. A dead calm had nowsucceeded the wind, and we halted at midday for a rest of an hour. Therebeing drift-wood near camp, I decided to eat our daily meal here insteadof waiting, as usual, until the evening. And that was one of thepleasantest hours throughout the whole of that distressing journey, forthe air was still, and the sun blazed down upon our little tent andfilled it with a bright warm light, which, but for the desolatesurroundings and unsavoury odour of seal-meat, would have recalled Niceor Monte Carlo. The ice, too, on beard and moustache, and clinkingagainst the drinking-cup, was scarcely suggestive of the Riviera; but, nevertheless, the momentary peace and warmth were little short ofluxurious. And the dogs seemed to relish the sun and warmth as much asourselves, as they lay around, asleep or indulging in the quaint anticswhich often made me wonder whether they were not in some way distantlyallied to the human race. For the Siberian sled-dog is unquestionablythe most sagacious animal in existence, and many a time have his comicalvagaries lightened my hours of despondency. In appearance the Siberiandiffers essentially from the Eskimo dog, and is a stronger thoughsmaller animal, seldom of a uniform colour, being generally black andwhite, black and tan, &c. His eyes are often of a light blue colour fromthe incessant snow-glare, which has a queer effect, especially, as oftenhappens, when one pupil has retained its original colour. The leader ofmy team, a lean, grizzled old customer with the muzzle of a wolf, wasthe quaintest of all. Oddly enough, kicks gained his friendship muchmore readily than kindness, if the kicker happened to be a favouredacquaintance; if not, trouble was likely to ensue, as De Clinchamp oncefound to his cost! Towards the other male dogs of my team "Tchort, " orthe Devil, assumed an air of almost snobbish superiority, but to thefemales he was affability itself. The reader will scarcely believe thatI have seen this weird animal squat gravely in front of one of theopposite sex, extend his right paw and tap her playfully on the jowl, the compliment being returned by an affectionate lick on Tchort's rightear. But this is a fact, and only one of many extraordinaryeccentricities which I observed amongst our canine friends whilejourneying down the coast. Tchort, however, was a sad thief and stoleeverything he could lay his hands, or rather teeth, upon, from seal-meatto a pair of moccasins. At night, therefore, when other dogs were freeto roam about camp, my leader was invariably fastened firmly to a sled, where he usually revenged himself by howling dismally at intervals. Buthe was a capital leader and as steady as a rock, excepting when theteam, at the sight of a distant object on the snow, would give onepiercing yelp of joy, and bolt towards it at breakneck speed, utterlyregardless of the brake or curses of the driver. I am bound to say thaton these occasions Tchort was the most unruly of the lot. 

Beyond Erktrik the coast becomes so rocky and precipitous that wetravelled chiefly over the sea, and progress was slower than it hadbeen yet on account of the mountainous ice we encountered around thenumerous headlands. There was little driving to do, every man having toturn to and haul with the dogs, or lift the sleds bodily acrosscrevasses, or over steep, slippery icebanks. For a week the sky remainedunclouded, and the sun beat down so fiercely that during the day ourgarments were soaked with perspiration, which would freeze to the skinat night and intensify the cold. West of Cape North the coast is of nogreat height, and although distance and the rarefied atmosphere oftenmade the cliffs appear of formidable dimensions, a nearer approachgenerally showed that a man could stand on the beach and, metaphorically, shake hands with one on their summits. With plenty ofdecent food this part of the journey would have been comparativelyenjoyable, but as we had only enough seal-meat to last for ten days, andas I feared that the Erktrik natives, wishing to be rid of us, hadmisinformed me as to the distance away of the next village, I could onlyissue provisions very sparingly. Luckily my fears were unfounded, for ina week we reached the second settlement, Owarkin, which was moreprosperous, and where a goodly supply of food was produced in exchangefor half a dozen dogs, some tea and a few articles of barter. Thenatives here were less unfriendly, but as most of them had never seen awhite man we were regarded with great curiosity. All day the tent waspacked with eager faces, and at night-time the canvas opening wascontinually pushed aside, much to our discomfort, for the cold here wasvery severe. But these people were such a welcome contrast to thesulky, ill-conditioned natives down coast that we gladly suffered thisminor discomfort. We remained in this place for one night only, andpushed on with renewed hope, encouraged by the kindly demeanour of thenatives, for Cape North. But now the fair weather broke up, and almostdaily we had to fight against gales and blizzards, which weakness, caused by filthy diet, almost rendered us incapable of. But we peggedaway cheerfully enough, although every one was suffering more or lessfrom troublesome catarrh; De Clinchamp was partially crippled byfrost-bite, and snow-blindness caused me incessant pain--agony on sunnydays when there was a glare off the ice. To make matters worse, drift-wood was so scarce at this time that a small fire was onlyattainable every second day. Luckily I had kept a few wax candles, andwith the aid of these enough snow was melted to serve as a lotion for DeClinchamp and myself. I was harassed, too, by the thought that at ourslow rate of speed Koliutchin Bay (still eight hundred miles away) wouldprobably be found broken up and impassable, in which case the entiresummer would have to be passed amongst these treacherous natives. Forshould the Revenue cutter, which the American Government had kindlyundertaken to send to our assistance in June, not find us at East Cape, she would probably sail away again, under the impression that we hadreturned to the Kolyma. In any case she would scarcely come more than ahundred miles or so west of Bering Straits, and Koliutchin was quitethree times that distance. There is probably no region in the worldmore inaccessible than North-Eastern Siberia, and even had the ill-fatedAndré managed to effect a landing, say between Tchaun Bay and the KolymaRiver, he would, unless well supplied with provisions, in my opinion, have perished. 

Near Cape Kyber a huge bear and its cub were seen in the ice off theisland of Shalarof, [54] about three miles from the coast. De Clinchamp, Stepan and half a dozen dogs at once went in pursuit, less for the sakeof sport than of replenishing our larder, but after an exciting chasethe brute got away, leaving its cub to be devoured by the dogs beforeStepan could secure it, a keen disappointment to us all. [55] Wefrequently came across tracks after this, but saw no more bears, whichfrom everything but a gastronomical point of view was no loss. For thereis no more sport in shooting the polar species than in knocking over arook or a rabbit. 

[Footnote 54: About three and a half versts north of Cape Kyber there isa rocky island of two and a half versts in circumference, entirelysurrounded by hummocks. I gave it the name of Shalarof, after the manwhose enterprise, courage, and perseverance, and finally whose death inthese regions, have well deserved that his name should be sorecorded. --"The Polar Sea, " by Von Wrangell. ]

[Footnote 55: Von Wrangell writes that dogs have a remarkable aversionto bear's flesh as long as it is warm, but this was not our experienceon this occasion. ]

Finally Areni, a large village near Cape North, was reached, and here wefound food in plenty, even some deer-meat, which, although putrid, wasmost acceptable. The _kor_, or smallpox, had not visited this place, andwe saw and heard no more of this dread disease eastward of this. Fromhere on to Cape North villages became more frequent and natives morefriendly. In one place the sight of a San Francisco newspaper filled uswith joy and a pleasant sense of proximity, although it _was_ two yearsold. We traced it to an American whaler, for the trade of this coast isnow no longer in Russian hands, but in those of the whaling fleet fromthe Golden Gate. At present there is no communication whatsoever betweenthe Tchuktchis and the Kolyma, as we had already found to our cost. 

A hard journey of over two days from here, during which scarcity ofdrift-wood caused us much trouble, brought us to Cape North. [56]Darkness had now almost left us, and on April 28 we travelled nearlythroughout the night in a dim daylight, arriving the next morning at asmall village of three huts called Yugetamil. "And it's about time, "murmured Harding, on hearing the name. But the atrocious pun was justlyreceived in silence. About fifteen miles east of this we sightedmountains, perhaps thirty miles to the southward, known to theTchuktchis as the Puk-tak range. The highest peak, Mount Uruni, about3000 feet high, was visible in clear weather. 

[Footnote 56: Concerning this region Von Wrangell wrote: "Drift-wood isscarce along this coast, partly from the consumption by Tchuktchis, andpartly from natural causes. The greater part of the drift-wood foundbetween the Shelagskoi and the Bering Straits is probably of Americanorigin, for it consists chiefly of stems of pines and firs. My opinionthat the drift-wood on this part of the coast comes from America isconfirmed by the assertion of the Tchuktchis that among the trunks offir they not unfrequently find some that have been felled with stoneaxes. "]

Nearing Cape North the ice was so bad that our progress seldom exceededtwo miles an hour, but the cliffs here are quite perpendicular, so thatit was impossible to travel by land. In places they were covered to aheight of forty feet or so by the clear green or blue ice formed bybreakers of the preceding year, and the dazzling colours reflected bythe sunshine on the glassy surface of the rocks was marvellous tobehold. Nearing the cape the ice was piled up so high that I feared atone time we should never succeed in rounding the headland. The sledswere constantly hauled up hummocks sixty to seventy feet high, and muchcare was needed to prevent them falling headlong from the summits withthe dogs. Every one had over a score of bad falls that day, and althoughno bones were broken I slipped up towards midday and landed heavily onthe back of my head with my feet in the air. But for three thick furcaps my skull must have been fractured, and for several minutes I layunconscious. All that day we toiled along, now scrambling overmountainous "torosses, " now wading waist-deep in soft snow, whichoccasionally gave way to precipitate us into invisible holes. When, lateat night, we reached a small village of two huts (name unknown), men anddogs were quite exhausted, and had the tiny settlement been half a milefurther we could never have reached it. Here again we disposed of threedogs for more seal-meat, and went on the next morning rejoicing, notwithstanding a stiff gale from the eastward accompanied by snow. 

At Cape North the natives were the friendliest we had yet seen, and weactually obtained flour and molasses, priceless luxuries. Pancakes friedin seal oil may not sound appetising, but to us they tasted like thedaintiest of _petits fours_. And the welcome news that Koliutchin Baywould remain frozen until late in May enabled me to hope that we mightnow reach Bering Straits, a contingency which only a few days before hadseemed extremely remote. This information was furnished by a Tchuktchinamed Yaïgok, whose home was within a few miles of Bering Straits, andwho spoke a few words of English picked up from the American whalemen. This man was returning with a sled-load of bearskins and fox furs, totrade to the whaling fleet. He was a fine, strapping fellow, and Igladly accepted his offer to guide us as far as his village, for twelvedogs, some tobacco and a couple of clasp-knives. Several natives herehad travelled as far as the Bering Straits, which they called the "BigRiver, " the land beyond it, Alaska, being known as "Nagurok" in theTchuktchi dialect. 

The village at Cape North is known to the natives as Irkaïpien. From adistance the promontory presents almost the appearance of an island, asit is joined to the low land by a landspit hidden in winter by strandedice. This is probably the point seen in 1777 by Captain Cook, from whomit received its present name, but I rechristened it Cape Despair, onaccount of the difficulty we experienced in reaching it from the timewhen it was first sighted. Mentioning the fact to Stepan, I was muchentertained by an anecdote related by the Cossack in connection with thenames of places. He had once accompanied a German traveller, who wascompiling a volume of his experiences, down the Yenisei River inSiberia. On several occasions the tourists' inquiries as totopographical names were met with the reply, "Imia niet, " for thecountry they were travelling was new to Stepan. When, however, the bookof travel was published in Berlin, a mountain, two rivers and a villagewere carefully described under the title of the above two words which inRussian signify: "It has no name!"

[Illustration: CAPE DESPAIR. ]

I was rather disturbed while at Cape North to hear the name of my oldfriend Koari of Oumwaidjik continually mentioned by the natives, foralthough I well knew the old scoundrel's influence extended along thecoast in a southerly direction, I was not prepared to find it existingamongst the Tchuktchis of the north-eastern seaboard. One of my chiefobjects had been to avoid the Oumwaidjik people, and I had thereforeplanned our route so as to steer north of the place by over two hundredmiles. However, nothing was known here of the enmity existing betweenmyself and this old bandit, who, by reason of the punishment inflictedon him on my account by the United States Government, would probablyhave made things warm for us had he been aware of my proximity, I hadhitherto imagined that no land communication existed between Oumwaidjikand the Arctic Coast, and that by the time navigation re-opened weshould be far away from the clutches of my old enemy, with whom ourguide, Yaïgok, was apparently on intimate terms. I therefore resolved tobe careful, the more so that at Natska, a village about ten days east ofCape North, we found a caravan of sixteen dog-sleds, laden down withfurs, on the point of departure. 

"Where are those people going?" I inquired of Yaïgok, as the teamstarted away across the tundra in a south-easterly direction. 

"Over the mountains to Koari!" replied the Tchuktchi, and I prudentlyrefrained from questioning him further. 

Another unpleasant incident occurred at Cape North, where a gale andheavy snow detained us for two days. A young native, having imbibed our_vodka_, clamoured loudly for more, and when Stepan refused to producethe drink, drew a knife and made a savage lunge which cut into theCossack's furs. In an instant the aggressor was on his back in the snow, and foreseeing a row I seized a revolver and shouted to my companions todo likewise. But to my surprise the crowd soundly belaboured theircountryman, while Yaïgok apologised on behalf of the chief, for theman's behaviour. Nevertheless, there were dissentient voices and uglylooks, so that I was not altogether sorry to leave Irkaïpien behind us. 

We made rapid headway after this, for most of the way lay over tundra assmooth and flat as a billiard-table. Our guide's sled continually leftus far behind, for the Tchuktchi's _nartas_ are far superior to thosemade on the Kolyma. Yaïgok's dogs, too, were fresh and hardy, while ourswere exhausted by hunger and hardship. Our method of harnessing was alsoinferior to the Tchuktchi method, which brings the strain on theshoulders instead of the neck. These people, like the Yakutes, are verykind to animals. I never once saw them strike their dogs, which wereurged on by rattling an iron ring fixed for the purpose to the end ofthe brake. Yaïgok knew every inch of the road and saved many a mile byshort cuts taken across land or sea. The cold here was great anddrift-wood scarce, but one could be sure now of passing some settlementat least every three or four days, where even a foul glimmer of aseal-oil lamp was better than no fire at all. About this time the sledsgave us much trouble--the rough usage they had undergone necessitatingconstant repairs, but these were quickly made, for not a scrap of metalenters into the construction of a Kolyma dog-sled; merely wooden pegsand walrus-hide thongs, which are more durable and give more spring andpliancy than iron nails. Three days after leaving Cape North, and infine weather, Wrangell Land was sighted, or, I should perhaps say, wasprobably sighted, for at times huge barriers of icebergs can easily bemistaken for a distant island. Yaïgok, however, averred that it was anisland, and his judgment was probably correct. 

The journey from here eastwards to Bering Straits would under ordinarycircumstances of travel have seemed a severe one, for we travelledthrough head winds and constant snowstorms, which now, with a risingtemperature, drenched our furs and made the nights even more miserablethan those of intense, but dry, cold. One thing here struck me ascurious, every snow-flake was a most perfect five-pointed star, asaccurately shaped as though it had passed through a tiny mould. Discomforts, as I have said, continued, not to say hardships, but we hadbecome so inured to the latter that we could now, with well-linedstomachs, afford to despise even blizzards with shelter never more thantwenty or thirty miles distant. Our diet was not appetising, consistingas it did for the most part of oily seal and walrus-meat, butdrift-wood was now more plentiful, and we could usually reckon on thatblessing, a fire at night. There was now little difficulty in findingsettlements, one of which was reached on an average every twenty-fourhours, but it was necessary to keep a sharp look-out, for the low, mushroom-like huts of the Tchuktchis are invisible a short distance awayand are easily passed unnoticed during a fog or in driving snow. Fogs, by the way, were very prevalent as we neared the Straits, and becamedenser in proportion as the spring advanced. 

East of Cape North we had no bother whatever with the natives, who inmany places even refused payment for food and assistance. Passing thevillages of Wankarem and Onman[57] we reached, on May 10, Koliutchin, alarge village situated on an island in the bay of that name. Here wewere received with open arms by the chief, who spoke a little English, picked up, like Yaïgok's, from American whalemen at East Cape. ProfessorNordenskjold's ship the _Vega_ wintered here some years ago, and thenatives showed us souvenirs of the Swedish explorer's visit in the shapeof clasp-knives and tin tobacco-boxes. The irony of fate and obstinacyof pack-ice are shown by the fact that all on board the _Vega_ wereexpecting an easy passage through Bering Straits to the southward, andyet within twenty-four hours were compelled to remain for another wintersecurely ice-locked off this dreary settlement. 

[Footnote 57: Our American charts made these villages sixty miles apart, whereas they are not divided by a third of the distance. ]

Koliutchin Island was called Burney Island by Captain Cook, but WhaleIsland would be a better name for it than either, for it exactlyresembles a narwhal on the surface of the sea. There appeared to befrequent communication with the mainland, for we reached the island(about four miles in circumference and twenty-five miles from the coast)by a well-defined sled-track; perhaps luckily, for the bay was otherwiseobstructed by heavy ice. News travels like lightning along this part ofthe coast, and Kouniang, the chief, and a crowd of natives received usas we landed along the beach. As soon as our tent was pitched, deer-meat(only slightly tainted!), flour and molasses were brought us, also somesticky American sweets, which having reposed for some time in thechief's deerskin _parka_, were covered with hairs. But we were used tothis slight inconvenience, for since leaving Yakutsk I had seldompartaken of a meal which was not freely sprinkled with capillaryparticles, either from our own furs or the surroundings. I verilybelieve that between Verkhoyansk and East Cape I consumed, in this way, enough hair to stuff a moderately sized pillow!

Kouniang was one of the richest natives on the coast, and his trade withthe whale-ships was extensive; he providing the Americans withwhalebone, walrus tusks and furs, in exchange for cotton goods, cannedprovisions and rubbish of all kinds "made in Germany. " The chief wouldtake no payment for his hospitality, and this was perhaps fortunate, asI had very little to give him. So many of our dogs had died or beenbartered that only thirty-one were now left, and these, with four sleds, about fifteen pounds of Circassian tobacco and under a gallon of_vodka_, represented the entire assets of the expedition. Poverty is aserious crime in a civilised country, but in some savage lands it meansabsolute starvation, and the problem of tiding over perhaps a couple ofmonths at East Cape without means of paying for food now caused meconsiderable anxiety. A credit was awaiting me at Nome City in Alaska, but the Tchuktchi scarcely understands banking transactions. Everythingdepended upon the charity or otherwise of the chief at East Cape; and, as the reader may imagine, I left Koliutchin in a very perplexed stateof mind. 

Koliutchin Bay was negotiated in beautiful weather, much to my relief, for I had experienced misgivings after our terrible experiences inTchaun Bay. But a blue sky and perfect stillness enabled our nowexhausted dogs to carry us across in under seven hours, and I was gladto reach the eastern shore, for great lakes of open water on every sideshowed that we were not a day too soon. The sun had now become sopowerful that most of our travelling was done by night, for during thedaytime the ice was often inch-deep in water, and the runners wereimbedded in the soft and yielding snow. The coast from here on to BeringStraits is said to be rich in minerals; but although coal was frequentlyseen cropping out from the cliffs and mica is plentiful, we saw no gold, and only heard on one occasion of the precious metal. This was atInchaun, about a day's journey from East Cape, where one Jim, anEnglish-speaking Tchuktchi informed me that he knew of "a mountain ofgold" about ten miles away. The lad offered to walk to the place (nowalmost inaccessible on account of melting snow), and to bring mespecimens of the ore, which I agreed to, undertaking to repay him withone of our much-battered sleds on arrival at East Cape. The next day Jimreturned with several attractive bits of rock, which, however, whentested by an expert at Nome City, were found to be absolutely worthless. I had heard of this mountain of gold in London, where I believe it oncefigured in an alluring prospectus! Jim, I fancy, was a bit of a humbug, who had served on a whaler and was therefore not wholly unacquaintedwith iron pyrites. Indeed this was the most intelligent Tchuktchi I evermet, although his language would have startled an English bargee. Thewhite man he regarded with extreme contempt, alluding to usindiscriminately as "disfellah" as he sat in our tent, calmly sharing(without invitation) any repast that was going on, and occasionallypausing to exclaim, between the mouthfuls, "By G--! you come a longway!"

At Inchaun, Yaïgok left us, and we proceeded alone and rapidly along thenow level beach and rolling tundra. The comparative ease and comfortwith which we accomplished the last three hundred miles of the coastjourney was due to the fact that the natives are in yearly touch withthe American whaling fleet, and are therefore generally well providedwith the necessaries of life. On May 19 we reached East Cape, thenorth-easternmost point of Asia, after a voyage of nearly two monthsfrom Sredni-Kolymsk. At this point the expedition had accomplishedrather more than half the entire journey, and had travelled, from Paris, a distance of about 11, 263 English miles. 

CHAPTER XII

AMONG THE TCHUKTCHIS

The wintry aspect of nature around Bering Straits seemed to predict alate summer, and it looked as though months must elapse before theRevenue cutter courteously placed at my disposal by the United StatesGovernment could break through the ice and reach us. My original ideawas to try and cross over the frozen Straits to Cape Prince of Wales, inAlaska, a feat never yet attempted by a white man, but I found onarrival at East Cape that the passage is never essayed by theTchuktchis, and only very rarely by the Eskimo. During the past decadeperhaps a dozen of the latter have started from the American side, butonly a third of the number have landed in Siberia, the remainder havingeither returned or perished. The distance from shore to shore at thenearest point is about forty miles, the two Diomede Islands and FairwayRock being situated about half-way across. Bering Straits are nevercompletely closed, for even in midwinter floes are ever on the move, which, with broad and shifting "leads" of open water, render a trip onfoot extremely hazardous. Our subsequent experience on nearly sevenmiles of drifting ice, across which we were compelled to walk in orderto land on American soil, inspired me with no desire to repeat theexperiment. 

East Cape, Bering Straits, practically "the end of the end of theworld, " is about the last place where you would expect to find a whiteman, especially in springtime, which, in this far North, answers to thedepth of winter in England. When we arrived there, East Cape had beencut off by ice from the world ever since the previous summer, whichrendered the presence of "Billy, " as the natives called him, the moreremarkable. At first I mistook the man for a Tchuktchi, for he hadadopted native costume, and a hard winter passed amongst these people, combined with a painful skin disease, had reduced him to a skeleton. Thepoor fellow had suffered severely, mentally and physically, and couldonly crawl about the settlement with difficulty, and yet, when newsfirst reached the cape of our approach, he had set out to walk along thecoast and meet us, and was brought back from the first village, fifteenmiles away, more dead than alive. Billy was a young man, abouttwenty-five years old, whose hardships had given him a middle-agedappearance. He belonged to the American middle class and was apparentlywell educated, and, as I suppress his name, there can be no harm ingiving his history. 

A year before we found him, Billy had left his home in San Francisco toship as ordinary seaman on board a whaler. But a rough life and stormyweather soon cured him of a love for the sea, and while his ship waslying at Nome City he escaped, intending to try his luck at thediggings. A report, however, had just reached Nome that tons of goldwere lying only waiting to be picked up on the coast of Siberia, and theadventurous Billy, dazzled by dreams of wealth, determined to sink hissmall capital in the purchase of a boat in which to sail away to theRussian "El Dorado. " Having stocked his craft with provisions, Billystarted alone from Nome, and after many hair-breadth escapes fromshipwreck in the Straits, managed to reach East Cape. This was early inthe month of August, when an American Revenue cutter is generallycruising about, and the Californian was delighted with his kindlyreception from the Tchuktchis, ignoring that the latter are not sopleasantly disposed when alone in their glory and fortified by a frozensea. For nearly a month Billy remained at East Cape, prospecting everyday, and working like a galley slave in the marshy "tundras" swarmingwith mosquitoes, only to return, every night, to his walrus-hide hutwith growing despair. For although the streams teemed with fish, not aglimmer of gold rewarded his labours. Time crept away and the comingwinter had shown her teeth with a cutting blizzard, while ice wasforming around the coast, when one gloomy October day the Revenue cutteranchored, for the last time that season, off the settlement. And Billyregarded her hopelessly, knowing that desertion from his ship hadrendered him an outlaw. To board the _Bear_ would mean irons andimprisonment, and the deserter dared not face an ordeal which, a fewmonths later, he would gladly have undergone to escape from Siberia. Billy watched the Government vessel sink below the horizon with someuneasiness, for his sole property now consisted of the furs he stood upin. His boat, clothes and even mining tools had all been bartered forfood, and the discomfited prospector was now living practically on thecharity of his savage hosts. The reflection, therefore, that nine longmonths must be passed in this Arctic prison was not a pleasant one, especially as the natives had already indulged in one of the "drinkorgies" which were afterwards resumed at intervals throughout thatterrible winter. 

How the man survived is a mystery--treated as a rule like a slave, clothed in ragged furs, nourished on disgusting food, and ever at thebeck and call of every man, woman and child in the settlement. Christmas-time found Billy suffering severely from scurvy, and coveredfrom head to foot with painful boils. Throughout this period, however, he received every attention and care from the women, who, however, without medical appliances, could do little to alleviate his sufferings. Billy said that at times these strange people showed a consideration andkindness only surpassed on other occasions by their brutality andoppression. One day gifts of food and furs would be showered upon thewhite man, and nothing be too good for him; on the next he would becursed and reviled, if not actually ill-treated by all. On drink-nightsBilly concealed himself, even preferring to sleep in the snow ratherthan brave the drunken fury of the revellers, which, as the reader willpresently see, was one of my greatest anxieties during our sojourn onthese barren shores. All things considered, our arrival on the scenewas a godsend to this poor castaway, who averred that another month ofsolitude would assuredly have driven him out of his mind. But ourpresence worked a marvellous difference in a short space of time, andBilly visibly gained in health and strength as the days went on, chieflyon account of congenial companionship; for we were almost as badly off, in material comforts, as our poor friend himself. 

East Cape consists of a few walrus-hide huts which cling like limpets tothe face of a cliff overhanging the Straits. In anything like windyweather you can't go out without danger of being blown bodily into thesea. Also, on the occasion of my last overland trip, I had been warnedby the officers of the _Bear_ against dangerous natives here, so Iresolved to move on to Whalen, a village a few miles west of East Capeon the Arctic Ocean, to await the arrival of the _Thetis_. [58]

[Footnote 58: The name Whalen should probably be written as it ispronounced--Oo-aylin, but I have adopted the mode of spelling in useamongst the whaling fraternity. ]

Whalen consists of about thirty _yarats_ (as a Tchuktchi dwelling iscalled) and about three hundred inhabitants. The village stands on asandy beach only a few yards from the sea, but when we arrived here theentire country was knee-deep in partly melted snow, which renderedlocomotion very wet and unpleasant. Here we were kindly received, indeedrather too kindly, for our presence was the signal for a feast, and in afew hours every man in the settlement was mad with drink. Fortunatelythe chief remained sober and we hid in his hut until the orgie wasover. But all that night men were rushing about the village, firing offWinchesters, and vowing to kill us, although that morning when soberthey had been quite friendly. We did not pass a very pleasant night, butthe next day all was quiet, and remained so until the appearance of awhaler again demoralised the settlement. When a Tchuktchi gets drunk, his first impulse is to get a rifle and shoot. He prefers a white man topractise upon, but if there are none handy he will kill anybody, evenhis mother, without compunction, and be very sorry for it when he issober, which unfortunately does not mend matters. Many whalemen havebeen slain on this coast during the past ten years, and during the fewweeks we were at Whalen two natives were killed, also a German trader onthe Diomede Islands in Bering Straits. But as the latter individual hadset up a primitive still and announced his intention of flooding thecoast with "tanglefoot, "[59] his own poison was probably seized by theislanders, who, when intoxicated, murdered its manufacturer. 

[Footnote 59: A slang term for whisky on the Alaskan coast. ]

Teneskin, the chief of Whalen, was, luckily for ourselves, a verydifferent type of man to the ruffian Koari; and his stalwart sons, Yemanko and Mooflowi, who were, like their father, teetotalers, becameour powerful allies when the demon of drink was rampant. Yemanko, theelder, spoke English fairly well, and the comparative comfort in whichwe lived here was chiefly due to his intelligence, for he managed topersuade his father that my cheques, or rather receipts for food, wouldbe honoured by the commander of the _Thetis_ on her arrival. This wasour only way out of a tight corner, and I awaited the chief's verdictwith intense anxiety, for should his decision be unfavourable starvationstared us in the face, and the worst kind of starvation, in the midst ofplenty. For Billy told me that Teneskin received a yearly consignment ofgoods, in exchange for native produce, from the whalers, and that a shedadjoining his hut was packed from floor to ceiling with cannedprovisions, groceries and other luxuries. To my great relief theconclave, which lasted for several hours, terminated satisfactorily, andit was agreed that every article furnished by Teneskin should on herarrival be doubly repaid from the store-room of the Revenue cutter. Andnotwithstanding some anxious qualms as to subsequent repayment whichoccasionally assailed our host, this plan worked well, for while here wenever once suffered from actual hunger. Stepan alone was disgusted withthe preliminary discussion regarding the food supply. These Tchuktchiswere subjects of the Tsar, he urged, and should therefore be compelledto furnish goods free of cost to the illustrious travellers under HisMajesty's protection. The Cossack even donned his uniform cap with thegold double eagle in order to impress the natives with a sense of ourofficial importance. But although the head-dress was at once removed byirreverent hands and passed round with some amusement, I regret to saythat its effect (from an awe-inspiring point of view) was a totalfailure. 

As a matter of fact the Tchuktchis know nothing whatever about Russia, and even the Great White Tsar has less influence here than a skipper ofthe grimiest Yankee whaler. For the latter is the unfailing source, every summer, of the vile concoction known as whisky, for which aTchuktchi will barter his existence, to say nothing of whalebone andwalrus tusks. Indeed, were it not for the whalers these people wouldundoubtedly perish, for although a Russian gunboat generally visits themonce during the summer, it is more with the object of seizing anythingher commander can lay his hands upon than of affording assistance. The"Stars and Stripes" are therefore the only colours with which the coastTchuktchis are familiar, and I had therefore brought an American flag aswell as our now tattered Union Jack, which proved a wise precaution. TheBritish ensign they had never seen before. 

There are perhaps twelve thousand Tchuktchis in all, the race consistingof two tribes: the coast Tchuktchis, inhabiting the shore from TchaunBay to the mouth of the Anadyr River; and the land Tchuktchis, who aremore or less nomads, roaming amongst the plains and mountains of theinterior with herds of reindeer, which form their sole means ofexistence, while their brethren of the coast are entirely dependent uponthe sea for a living. Although nominally Russian subjects, these peopleare the freest subjects in the world, paying no taxes and framing theirown laws, which is perhaps only just seeing that they have never beenreally conquered by Russia. Samoyedes, Buriates and Yakutes have allgone down before the iron heel of the Cossack, but for two centuries theTchuktchi has stood his ground, and with cold and desolation forallies, has invariably routed all invaders. [60] Thus, to this day, thesepeople are respected, if not feared, by their Russian neighbours, andalthough several attempts have been made in St. Petersburg to establisha _yassak_[61] amongst them, no official has yet penetrated far enoughinto the Tchuktchi country to collect it. Although Russia is theircommon foe, the land and sea Tchuktchis are staunch friends, for eachtribe is more or less dependent on the other; the coast Tchuktchisfurnishing whalebone, walrus tusks, hides, seal-meat and oil to thelandsmen, and receiving deer-meat for food, and skins for clothing, inreturn. 

[Footnote 60: "These people for many years resisted every attempt madeby the Russians either to subdue them or to pass through their country. Of a force numbering two hundred armed men who were sent into theirterritory, rather for the purpose of scientific exploration than withany views of conquest, not a soul returned, nor has their fate ever beenascertained. "--"Frozen Asia, " by Professor Eden. ]

[Footnote 61: The fur-tax formerly paid to the Crown by the Yakutes andother Siberian races. ]

It is a far cry from Bering Straits to Borneo, and I was thereforesurprised to find many points of resemblance between the coastTchuktchis and the Dyaks of that tropical island, with whom I becamewell acquainted some years ago while in the service of Raja Brooke. TheTchuktchi is perhaps physically stronger than the Dyak--unquestionablyhe is, by nature, a greater drunkard--but otherwise these races mightpass for each other so far as features, complexion and characteristicsare concerned. And although I have heard men assert that the Tchuktchisoriginally migrated to Asia from the American continent, my ownexperience leads me to doubt that this fact, the more so that there isnot an atom of resemblance (save perhaps in a partiality for strongdrink) between the Eskimo of Alaska and their Siberian neighbours. As arule the coast native is intelligent, and of strong and graceful build, owing to his life of almost ceaseless activity; out in all weathers, insummer fighting the furious gales of the Arctic in skin boats, in wintertracking the seal, walrus or bear, sometimes for days together, amid thecold, dark silence of the ice. Towards springtime this becomes adangerous occupation, for floes are often detached without warning andcarried away from the main pack into Bering Sea, whence there isgenerally no return, although marvellous escapes are recorded. Yemanko, the chief's son, had lived for six days floating about on a block ofice, and subsisting upon a seal which he had caught before he was sweptinto Bering Sea, eventually grounding near East Cape. His only companionwas frozen to death. 

I was relieved to find that the country between this and Koari's village(about three hundred miles south) was now impassable on account ofmelting snow, for, if only for the sake of revenge, this wily old thiefwould probably have set the natives here against us. Communicationbetween the two places had been frequent throughout the winter, andKoari's son, Oyurápok (a deadly enemy of mine), had lately been atWhalen, but had of course ignored my movements. [62] An Oumwaidjik man, however, who accompanied him had remained here on account of sickness. He was almost a lad and therefore knew nothing of Harding and myself, but we were much amused one day to see him proudly produce a many-bladedclasp-knife, _once my property_ (!) which Koari had confiscated, withour other goods, in 1896! There seemed to be no love lost between theWhalen and Oumwaidjik people, whom I had found as surly and inhospitableas these were (when sober) friendly and well disposed. It is curious tonotice how the various settlements of this coast vary with regard to thereputation of their inhabitants. Thus, although we were generally welltreated here, a stay at East Cape would probably have meant serioustrouble with the natives, from whom Billy had fled to take refuge atWhalen. But the East Cape people are probably the worst on the coast, although the natives at St. Lawrence Bay are nearly as bad, and those atOumwaidjik even worse. And yet, unless a drink feast is in progress, astranger who behaves himself is safe enough in most Tchuktchi villages, so much so that these people are known as _Masinker_ (which in theirdialect signifies "good") amongst the American whalemen. The odour of aTchuktchi is indescribable, but so powerful and penetrating as to benoticeable some distance from a settlement, this characteristic smellbeing caused by a certain emanation of the human body which enterslargely into the _Masinker's_ daily use. The fluid is employed chieflyfor tanning purposes, but it is also used for cleaning food platters, drinking cups and, worst of all, for washing the body, which it is saidto protect from cold. Both here and at Oumwaidjik I tried in vain todiscover the origin of this disgusting habit, which also prevails to alesser extent amongst the Alaskan Eskimo. This is only one of the manyrevolting customs which I unfortunately had an opportunity of studyingat close quarters while at Whalen, where I came to the conclusion thatthe Tchuktchi race must be the filthiest in the world. Were I todescribe one-tenth of the repulsive sights which came under my dailynotice, the reader would lay down this book in disgust. 

[Footnote 62: See "Through the Gold Fields of Alaska, " by Harry deWindt. London: Chatto and Windus. ]

Furs are worn by the coast Tchuktchis throughout the year, which, asthey are seldom removed, did not make them pleasant neighbours in acrowded hut. The men wear a deerskin _parka_, a loose garment reaching alittle below the waist and secured by a belt or walrus thong, and hairseal boots and breeches. In rainy weather a very light and transparentyellow waterproof, made of the intestines of the walrus, is worn. Menand boys wear a close-fitting cap covering the ears, like a baby'sbonnet, and have the crown and base of the skull partly shaved, whichgives them a quaint monastic appearance, while every man carries a longsharp knife in a leather sheath thrust through his belt. The women areundersized creatures, some pretty, but most have hard weather-beatenfaces, as they work in the open in all weathers. Many have beautifulteeth, which, however, are soon destroyed by the constant chewing ofsealskin to render it pliable for boots and other articles. They wear akind of deerskin combinations made in one piece and trimmed at the neckand wrists with wolverine, a pair of enormous sealskin moccasins, whichgives them an awkward waddling gait, completing their attire. The hairis worn in two long plaits, intertwined with gaudy beads, copper coinsand even brass trouser buttons given them by whalemen. Unlike the men, all the women are tattooed--generally in two lines from the top of thebrow to the tip of the nose, and six or seven perpendicular lines fromthe lower lip to the chin. Tattooing here is not a pleasant operation, being performed with a coarse needle and skin thread--the dye (obtainedfrom the soot off a cooking-pot moistened with seal oil) being sewn inwith no light hand by one of the older squaws. Teneskin's daughter, Tayunga, was not tattooed, and therefore quite good-looking, but eventhe prettiest face here is rendered unattractive by the uncleanpersonality and habits of its owner. So filthy are these people thateven the _parkas_ of both sexes are made so that the hand and arm can bethrust bodily inside the garment, not, as I at first imagined, for thesake of warmth, but to relieve the incessant annoyance caused byparasites. Hours of idleness were often passed by a couple of friends ina reciprocal hunt for vermin. 

[Illustration: TENESKIN'S DAUGHTERS. ]

I was naturally anxious to avoid the close companionship with thenatives, which residence in a _Yarat_ would have entailed. Teneskin'shut was the cleanest in the village, but even this comparativelyhabitable dwelling would have compared unfavourably with the foulest denin the London slums. The deep, slushy snow made it impossible to fix upa tent, but Teneskin was the proud possessor of a rough wooden hut builtfrom the timbers of the whaler _Japan_, which was wrecked here someyears ago, and in this we took up our abode. The building had onedrawback; although its walls were stout enough a roof was lacking, andour tent was a poor substitute. However, the place was cleaned out andmade fairly cosy with our rugs, furs and four sleds which were used asbunks. Then came a serious difficulty, artificial warmth, which, withouta roof, was sorely needed at night. Teneskin's trading goods comprised asmall iron cooking stove, which seemed to be the very thing, with plentyof drift-wood about, and which Stepan, with Cossack promptitude, annexedwithout leave. But an hour later Yemanko rushed into the hut, pale withrage, and without a word seized our treasure and carried it away. Thingslooked even more ugly when very shortly afterwards the Chief, accompanied by a crowd of natives, entered our dwelling, with Billy asspokesman in their midst. Then amidst frequent interruptions from theChief the mystery was explained. It appeared that a superstition existsamongst these people that if a cooking place is used by strangers in ahut belonging to the father of a newly born child, the latter dieswithin a _moon_ or month. Teneskin's family had recently received anaddition which was the cause of our trouble, but during the height ofthe argument, Stepan quietly seated himself beside me and whispered theword "Mauser, " which reminded me that our host had cast longing eyes ona rifle in my possession. Much as I prized it a fire was essential, andthe rifle had to go; which it did without delay, for Teneskin, oncepossessed of the precious weapon, the baby, to use a sportingexpression, was knocked out at a hundred to one! The stove was replacedby willing hands with one proviso: that only the Chief's pots and panswere to be used for the preparation of our food, which proved that aTchuktchi is not unlike some Christians in the soothing of hisconscience. 

As the spring wore on, strong gales accompanied by storms of sleet droveus to seek the warmth and filth of Teneskin's residence, which was ofwalrus hide, about forty feet round and fifteen feet high in the centre. The only aperture for light and air was a low doorway. There was a largeouter chamber for fishing and hunting tackle where dogs roamed about, and inside this again a small dark inner room, called the _yaranger_, formed of thick deerskins, where the family ate and slept. In hereseal-oil lamps continually burning make it average about 85° throughoutthe winter. Beyond the tiny doorway there was no ventilation whatsoever, and the heat and stench of the place were beyond description. At nightmen, women and children stripped naked, and even then the perspirationpoured off them. The nights we passed here were indescribable. Sufficeit to say that the hours of darkness in the inner chamber of that_yarat_ were worthy of Dante's Inferno. And the days were almost as bad, for then the indescribable filth of the dwelling was more clearlyrevealed. At the daily meal we reclined on the floor, like the Romans in"Quo Vadis, " by a long wooden platter, and lumps of seal or walrus meatwere thrown at us by the hostess, whose dinner costume generallyconsisted of a bead necklace. Rotten goose eggs and stale fish roeflavoured with seal oil were favoured delicacies, also a kind of seaweedwhich is only found in the stomach of the walrus when captured. Luckilya deer was occasionally brought in from inland, and Stepan then regaledus with good strong soup followed by the meat which had made it. Everypart of the animal was greedily devoured by the natives, even the bonesbeing crushed and the marrow extracted from them, flavoured with sealoil, and eaten raw. Teneskin, however, had plenty of flour, and this, with desiccated vegetables, was our mainstay during the greater part ofthe time. As spring advanced, game was added to our bill of fare in theshape of wild duck, which flew in enormous clouds over the settlement. Alarge lagoon hard by swarmed with them, and one could always bag acouple at least every morning and evening without leaving the hut. But ashooting party was usually made up every day, and we sallied out withthe natives, perhaps a score of men and boys, the former armed withWinchesters and the latter with slings, which projected a row of five orsix balls cut out of walrus teeth. To shoot a duck on the wing with abullet is not easy, but the natives seldom returned empty handed; andmany a time I have seen a tiny lad of ten or twelve years old bring downhis bird with a sling at twenty or thirty yards. Once I saw Yemanko, with the same weapon, put a stone clean through a biscuit tin at twentyyards range. And one memorable day (for once only) a regal repast wasserved of three courses consisting of reindeer, wild duck, and Harding'splum pudding, which, notwithstanding its novel experiences, proveddelicious. It only had one irreparable fault--there was not enough ofit. All things considered, our stay here was by no means the worst partof the journey, for beyond filthy food and surroundings and the deadlymonotony of existence, there was little to complain of. Every now andthen a drunken orgie would necessitate close concealment, but this waspractically the only annoyance to which we were subjected. Once, however, Stepan ventured out during one of these outbursts, and wasinstantly fired at by a band of ruffians who were reeling about thevillage. The man who fired the shot was, when sober, one of our bestfriends, and, luckily for the Cossack, was too far gone to shootstraight. This incident was therefore a comparatively trivial one, although it served to show the unpleasant affinity between a barrel ofwhisky and bloodshed, and the undesirability of Whalen as a sea-sideresort for a longer period than was absolutely necessary. But Teneskinand his sons were always ready to protect us by force if necessaryagainst the aggression of inebriates. Indeed had it not been for thesethree giants I doubt if the Expedition would have got away from Whalenwithout personal injury or perhaps loss of life. 

Although our host himself did not indulge in alcohol, he was the soleretailer of it to our neighbours. I only once saw the stuff, which wasreligiously kept hidden save when an orgie had been decided upon andTeneskin, after receiving payment, barricaded himself and prepared forsqualls. When we arrived at Whalen, most of the fiery spirit left bythe whalers the preceding year was exhausted, and Teneskin was issuingan inferior brand of his own brewing, concocted much in the same way asthe "gun-barrel water" of the Eskimo and even more potent, if possible, than San Francisco "Tangle-foot. " This is made by mixing together onepart each of flour and molasses with four parts of water and thenletting the mixture stand for four days in a warm atmosphere until itferments. The distillery consists of a coal oil tin, an old gun-barrel, and a wooden tub. The mash is put in the coal oil tin, and thegun-barrel, which serves as the coil, leads from this tin through thetub, which is kept filled with cracked ice. A fire is then built underthe tin, and as the vapour rises from the heated mess it is condensed inthe gun-barrel by the ice in the tub, and the liquor comes out at theend of the gun barrel drop by drop, and is caught in a drinking cup. This process is necessarily slow, and it took a long time to obtain evena half pint of the liquor, but the whisky made up in strength what itlacked in quality, and it did not take much of it to intoxicate, which(from a Tchuktchi standpoint) was the principal object. I am told onreliable authority that, on the Alaskan coast, the Eskimo women joinfreely in the drunken debauches of the men, but this was certainly notthe case amongst the Siberian natives, at any rate those at Whalen. Forthroughout our stay there I only once saw an intoxicated female. Thiswas the wife of Teneskin, who during an orgie was invariably the onlyinebriated member of his household. But she certainly made up for therest of the family!

CHAPTER XIII

AMONG THE TCHUKTCHIS--(_continued_)

The time at Whalen passed with exasperating slowness, especially afterthe first ten days, when monotony had dulled the edge of success andworn off the novelty of our strange surroundings. On the Lena we hadexperienced almost perpetual darkness; here we had eternal daylight, which, with absolutely nothing to do or even to think about, was evenmore trying. Almost our sole occupation was to sit on the beach and gazeblankly at the frozen ocean, which seemed at times as though it wouldnever break up and admit of our release from this natural prison. Everyday, however, fresh patches of brown earth appeared through their whiteand wintry covering, and wild flowers even began to bloom on thehillsides, but the cruel waste of ice still appeared white and unbrokenfrom beach to horizon. One day Harding fashioned a rough set of chessmenout of drift-wood, and this afforded some mental relief, but only for afew days. "Pickwick" had been read into tatters, even our Shakespearefailed us at last, and having parted with the "_Daily Mail_ Year Book"at Verkhoyansk, this was our sole library. Sometimes we visited ourneighbours, where we were generally kindly received, presentsoccasionally being made us. One day the Chief's eldest daughter workedand presented me with a pair of deerskin boots with a pretty patternworked in deerskins of various colours, obtained from dyes of nativemanufacture. I naturally wondered how these could be extracted fromnatural products in this barren land of rock, sand and drift-wood, butBilly partly explained the secret of the operation which is, I fancy, peculiar to the coast. [63] The ex-whaleman furnished me with thisinformation during a talk we had over his experiences of the previouswinter. From the same source I also gleaned many facts concerning thesepeople, who invariably try to mislead the ingenuous stranger. Billy, however, enjoyed their complete confidence, and had stored up a fund ofinteresting information, some of which I reproduce for the reader'sbenefit. 

[Footnote 63: A bright red colour is obtained from a rock found in theinterior. Green by boiling the fur in the urine of a dog. I was unableto ascertain how dark blue, the only other dye, is made. ]

Next to irresponsible and armed drunkards my greatest anxiety at Whalenwas caused by the medicine men, of whom there were about a score, andwho never lost an opportunity of setting their patients against us. Medicine men are all-powerful here, although their treatment consistssolely of spells and incantations. But the unfortunate dupes have a firmbelief in these men, who are not only medical advisers, but areconsulted on everything pertaining to the affairs of life, from maritaldifferences to the price of whalebone. Billy had at one time aroused theenmity of these impostors, who naturally distrust the influencegenerally gained by the owner of a modern medicine chest. Our friend hadlanded in Siberia with a bottle of embrocation and some Cockle's pills, but even this modest pharmacopœia had aroused the bitterest jealousyamongst the doctors at East Cape. But familiarity breeds contempt, andwhen Billy had gradually been reduced to the social standing of thehumblest Tchuktchi the medicine men simply ignored him, and made noobjection to his presence at their _séances_, which generally took placein the dark. Occasionally, however, the Shamans officiated in thedaylight, when their skill as conjurers would, according to Billy, haveeclipsed an Egyptian Hall performance. To swallow several pieces ofwalrus hide, and afterwards vomit forth a pair of miniature moccasins, would seem a trick beyond the powers of the untutored savage, but thewhaleman often saw it accomplished. He also assisted to bind a Shamanhand and foot with walrus thongs, and in less than ten seconds the manhad freed himself, although secured by knots which Billy himself couldnot have unravelled in a week. 

My friend is probably the only white man who has ever assisted at awhale dance, which took place in a hut, dimly lit by seal oil lamps andcrowded with both sexes in a state of nature, with the exception oftheir sealskin boots. The performance commenced with music in the shapeof singing accompanied by walrus-hide drums, after which a long plankwas brought in and suspended on the shoulders of four men. Upon thisthree women were hoisted astride, and commenced a series of wildcontortions, back and forth and from side to side, not unlike the "Dancedu ventre. " Relays of girls continued this exercise for two or threehours, until all were exhausted, and then flesh of the whale, caughtthe preceding summer, was handed round by children, and washed down byfloods of raw whisky, which brought the entertainment to a close forthat night. The following day athletic sports were indulged in by thosesufficiently sober, the owner of one hut furnishing the prizes andrefreshments. This giver of the feast and his family were distinguishedby faces plastered with the red paint already mentioned as beingobtained from the mountains of the interior. Wrestling and racing werethe chief pastimes, the prizes consisting of a cartridge, a piece ofcalico, or perhaps a fox skin. The women did not join in these contests, but with them a form of "tossing in a blanket" was gone through. Awalrus skin perforated around with holes to give a firmer grip was heldby seven or eight stalwart men, and at a given signal a girl lying inthe centre was sent flying into the air, she who reached the greatestheight receiving the appropriate prize of a needle or thimble. At nightthe dance was continued, and on this occasion a fire was kindled aroundwhich the medicine men seated themselves, mumbling incantations andcasting small pieces of deer or walrus meat into the flames as asacrifice to the evil spirits. The whale entertainment lasted for threenights, but the incidents which occurred upon the last evening are notfit for reproduction here. The whaleman, being more or less of acelebrity, had attracted the bright glances of several Tchuktchimaidens. But even when he found his affinity poor Billy's courtship wasof short duration, for his ladylove, when embraced for the first timeupon the lips, indignantly thrust him away and screamed for help. According to Tchuktchi customs, she had suffered an irreparable insult, the only recognised mode of kissing here being to rub noses whilemurmuring "Oo" for an indefinite period. This was Billy's first and lastexperience of love-making here, although Teneskin would gladly havewelcomed a white man as a son-in-law, and without the tiresomepreliminaries which generally precede a Tchuktchi marriage. For, onordinary occasions, a man must first obtain the consent of his_fiancée_, then that of her parents, and when these points are settledhe must reside for several months as an inmate of the girl's hut beforehe becomes her husband. A Tchuktchi may put a wife away on the slightestpretext, but no crime on his part entitles his wife to a divorce. Acurious custom here is that of exchanging wives with a friend oracquaintance, who thereupon becomes a brother, even legally, and so faras the disposal of property is concerned. 

A Tchuktchi may have as many wives as he pleases or can afford, butmarried life here is usually a happy one, which is probably due to thefact that a wife is never idle. Not only must she attend to the wants ofthe household, needlework, cooking, washing, and in winter clearing theroof of the _yarat_ of snow, but there are hides to be tanned anddeerskins to be dressed and sewn into clothing. A married woman mustalso pass cold and weary hours in winter watching for seal and walrus, and in summer probe the depths of boredom by fishing with a line for"Tom cod. " And from a feminine point of view, there is no reward for herlabours, no balls or parties, nor smart hats or gowns to excite theenvy of her neighbours; all the Tchuktchi spouse can hope for being a"quid" of tobacco, so rare a luxury that it only reaches her lips whenher husband has extracted most of its flavour. While smoking, theTchuktchis, like the Yakutes, use tiny pipes; the smoke is not ejectedor inhaled, but swallowed, and the rankest tobacco is so precious herethat it is usually eked out with seal-hairs. 

Tchuktchi-land teems with legends and superstitions of which Whalen hadits full share. A rock off the coast hard by was said to sing and talkwhenever a chief of the village was about to die, and the followingcurious legend was gravely related to me by Yemanko. Many years agothere lived at Whalen a chief with a wife so pretty that even fish wereattracted to the land by her charms. Amongst the dwellers of the sea wasa whale, with whom, unknown to her husband, she contracted a union. Eventually a young whale was born to the amazement of the settlement, which, regarding it as a mysterious gift from the spirits, paid the newarrival great homage. A huge tank was dug and contained the monsteruntil it had attained its full growth, when it was marked and turnedloose in the sea to decoy other whales. But the natives of Inchaun, anadjoining village, caught and killed the marked whale, which was scaringaway all their fish. The Inchaun people were thereupon attacked by theWhalen men, who slaughtered every soul in their village. There is nodoubt that this tribal conflict did take place some time during theeighteenth century, but I cannot say whether the murder of the markedwhale was the real cause of the battle. 

The Tchuktchis appeared to have no religion, and I never saw anyceremony performed suggestive of a belief in a Supreme Being, althoughgood and evil spirits are believed to exist, and when I was atOumwaidjik, sacrifices of seal and walrus meat were often thrown intothe sea by the medicine men to abate its fury. Three men who died atWhalen during our visit were clad after death in their best deerskinsand carried some distance away from the settlement, where I believe theywere eventually devoured by the dogs. Several natives told me that a manwho dies a violent death ensures eternal happiness, but that an easydissolution generally means torment in the next world, which shows thatthe Tchuktchi has some belief in a future state. The theory that apainful death meets with spiritual compensation probably accounts forthe fact that loss of life is generally regarded here with utterindifference. A ghastly ceremony I once witnessed at Oumwaidjik is aproof of this. It was called the _Kamitok_, in other words thesacrifice, with the full consent, of the aged and useless members of thecommunity. When a man's powers have decreased to a depreciable extentfrom age, accident, or disease, a family council is held and a day andhour is fixed for the victim's departure for another world. The mostcurious feature of the affair is the indifference shown by the doomedone, who takes a lively interest in the preliminaries of his ownexecution. The latter is generally preceded by a feast where seal andwalrus meat are greedily devoured and whisky is consumed until all areintoxicated. After a while the executioner, usually a near relative ofthe victim, steps forward, and placing his right foot against the backof the condemned, quickly strangles him with a walrus thong. Or perhapshe is shot with a Winchester rifle, this being the usual mode ofdespatching a friend who has asked another to put him out of the worldon account, perhaps, of some trifling but troublesome ailment such asearache or neuralgia, which the sufferer imagines to be incurable. [64]And a request of this kind must be obeyed, or if not lifelong misfortunewill attend the man who has refused to fire the fatal shot. Women, however, are never put to death, nor, so far as I could glean, do theyever want to be. The origin of this custom is probably due to the barrennature of this land where every mouthful of food is precious, and wherea man must literally work to live. 

[Footnote 64: Mr. Waldemar Bogoras, the Russian naturalist, writes asfollows in _Harper's Magazine_ of April 1903: "One of the attendants Ihad with me for two years while in the Kolyma country belonged to afamily with a tradition of this kind. He was a man of fifty, and thefather and elder brothers had already followed in the way of theirancestors [by the _Kamitok_]. One time, while stricken with a violentfever, instead of taking the medicine that I gave him, he inquiredanxiously if I were sure that he would recover at all, otherwise he feltbound to send for his son and ask for the last stroke. "--"A StrangePeople of the North, " by Waldemar Bogoras, _Harper's Magazine_, April1903. ]

That the _Kamitok_ also exists amongst the Eskimo of Alaska is shown bythe following anecdote. Captain Healy, of the Revenue cutter _Thetis_, told me that he once inquired of a native near Point Barrow whether oneCharlie he had known the previous year was still alive and in goodhealth. 

"Oh no, " was the reply, "Charlie dead, I shot him. "

"Shot him?" said Healy, taken aback. "What did you do that for?"

"Oh, poor Charlie sick, pains all over, he asked me shoot him, so I shothim with his own gun and kept it afterwards!"

The Tchuktchis are by no means an idle race, and whenever I entered ahut I invariably found even the youngest inmates usefully employed; thewomen busily engaged cooking and sewing, or cleaning and polishingfirearms, while the men were away duck-shooting or hunting the seal orwalrus. Sometimes we went seal-hunting with our friends, but this ispoor sport, especially in damp, chilly weather. The outfit is verysimple, consisting of a rifle, snowshoes and spear. A start is made atdaylight until a likely-looking hole in the ice is reached, and here yousit down and wait patiently, perhaps for hours, until a seal's headappears above water, which it frequently fails to do. In warm weatherthis might be an agreeable occupation, but on cold days it seldominduced me to leave even the comfortless shelter of our hut. Most of theseals caught here are hair seals, which must not be confounded with thevaluable fur seal, which is used in Europe for wearing apparel, and isseldom found north of the Privilov Islands in Bering Sea. The latteranimal is too well known to need description, but the skin of the hairseal is a kind of dirty grey, flecked with dark spots, and is short andbristly. But it is warm and durable and therefore used by the Tchuktchisfor breeches and foot wear. Recently, too, it has been introduced intoEurope for the use of _chauffeurs_ of automobiles, but ten years ago itwas practically worthless; although the flesh is preferable as food tothat of the more costly species. 

A chase after walrus is far more exciting than either a seal or bearhunt, for their capture involves a certain risk and occasionally actualdanger. As soon as one of these beasts is sighted four or five_Baidaras_ are launched and set out at a terrific pace, for the crew ofthe first boat up gets the lion's share of the spoil. Winchester riflesare now used instead of the old-fashioned harpoon, so that accidents arerarer than they used to be, although boats are often upset. I have onlyonce seen a walrus: a distorted, shapeless mass of discoloured flesh, sparsely covered with coarse bristles. The one I saw measured about tenfeet long, had quite that girth, and must have weighed over a ton. Walrus meat as a diet is less repulsive than seal, for it is not sofishy in flavour and has more the consistency of beef. 

We had been here about ten days when a native arrived from East Cape andreported a whaler off that headland. At Whalen the ice still presented ahopelessly unbroken appearance, but low, dark clouds to the eastwardlooked like open water in the direction of the Straits, and I sentHarding and Stepan, with the East Cape man, to verify his report. He wasa silent, sulky brute, and I felt some anxiety until the pair returnedthe next day after a terrible journey, partly by land but principallyover the sea ice across which they had to wade knee deep in water. Forabout six miles crossing the tundra they floundered in soft snow up tothe waist, and finally reached their destination, wet through andexhausted, to find that the ship, probably scared by heavy pack ice, haddisappeared to the southward. The natives, however, treated them well, and sent a man to accompany them half way back to Whalen, for the thawhad come so suddenly that he could proceed no further, and ourcompanions only just managed to reach home. This was the last journeymade by land between the two settlements, for which I was not sorry, asthe undesirable community at East Cape were now as completely cut offfrom us as the pirates of Oumwaidjik. Harding informed me that at EastCape a totally different dialect was spoken to that at Whalen, but thisdid not surprise me, as I compiled while at Oumwaidjik a small glossarywhich completely differed from words in use at Whalen. The natives ofthe Diomede Island have also a distinctive language, of which, however, I was unable to obtain any words. A reference to the Appendix will showthe difference existing between the dialects spoken on the mainland ofSiberia. East of Tchaun Bay the same language existed in every villageas far as Whalen. The languages spoken by the Reindeer Tchuktchis of theinterior and the Eskimo of the Alaskan Coast do not in any way resemblethe dialects spoken on the Siberian Coast. 

By the end of June the snow on land was fast disappearing, and bluelakes began to appear amongst the white plains and hummocks of the sea. But those were weary days of waiting even when warmer weather enabled usto live altogether in our hut without taking shelter in the chief'smalodorous _yarat_. For the former was crowded all day with natives, who used it as a kind of club, and left us souvenirs every night in theshape of a stifling stench and swarms of vermin. As time wore on theheat in our heavy furs became insupportable, but frequent and suddenchanges of temperature rendered it impossible to discard themaltogether. For often the sun would be blazing at midday with atemperature of 60° in the shade, and a few minutes later we would becowering over the stove listening to the howling of the wind and therattle of sleet against the wooden walls. This would last perhaps anhour or two, and then the sky would again become blue and cloudless, thesunshine as powerful as before. One day in early June is thus describedin my journal: "Clear, cloudy, warm, cold, windy, calm, sunshine, fogand a little rain!" The wind troubled us most, for here there is nohappy medium between a dead calm and a tearing gale, and the latteroccurred on an average every second day. Northerly and north-westerlywinds prevailed, and we whistled in vain for a southerly buster to clearthe coast of ice. And yet notwithstanding our many miseries there werepleasant days, still and sunlit, when I would stroll to the summit of agrassy hill near the settlement, where the sward was carpeted with wildflowers and where the soothing tinkle of many rivulets formed by meltingsnow were conducive to lazy reverie. From here one could see for a greatdistance along the coast to the westward, and on bright days the snowyrange of cliffs and kaleidoscopic effects of colour cast by cloud andsunshine over the sea ice formed a charming picture. Stepan passed mostof his time on these cliffs watching in vain, like a male sister Anne, for ships, for, like most Russians, the Cossack suffered severely fromnostalgia. 

But the days crawled wearily away, each more dreary than itspredecessor, and the eternal vista of ice greeted each morning theanxious gaze of the first man up to survey the ocean. Our Union Jack, now almost torn to shreds by incessant gales, was hoisted on a longstick lent by Teneskin for the purpose, but I began to think that theshred of silk might as well have fluttered at the North Pole for all theattention it was likely to attract from seaward. So passed a month away, and the grey hag Despair was beginning to show her ugly face when onenever-to-be-forgotten morning Harding rushed into the hut and awoke mewith the joyful news that a thin strip of blue was visible on thehorizon. A few hours later waves were seen breaking near the land, forwhen once ice begins to move it does so quickly. Three days laterwavelets were rippling on the beach, and I felt like a man just releasedfrom a long term of penal servitude when on the 15th of July the hull ofa black and greasy whaler came stealing round the point where Stepan hadpassed so many anxious hours. 

The whaler proved to be the _William Bayliss_ of New Bedford. We boardedher with some difficulty on account of the jagged ice floes on the beachto which she was moored. It was an acrobatic feat to jump from theslippery ice, lay hold of a jibboom towering overhead, and scramble overthe bows. But once aboard, Captain Cottle loaded us with good things(including a tin of sorely-needed tobacco), and all would now haveseemed _couleur-de-rose_ had Cottle been able to give us news of the_Thetis_. This, however, he was unable to do, and when that night thewhaler had sailed away I almost regretted that I had declined herskipper's offer of a passage across the Straits, which might, however, have been prolonged for an indefinite period as the ship was now boundin an opposite direction. That night was certainly the worst we everexperienced, for even Teneskin was rendered helpless by the pandemoniumcreated by the floods of whisky which had streamed into the settlementfrom the hold of the _William Bayliss_. Towards evening things looked sougly that the chief and his sons, armed with Winchester rifles, took uptheir quarters for the night in our hut, the door of which wasbarricaded by means of iron bars. Even Yemanko looked pale and anxious, for every man in the village, he said, was mad with drink. The chief'swife and daughters remained in the _yarat_, for a Tchuktchi howeverdrunk has never been known to molest a woman. Singing, shouting anddeafening yells were heard during the earlier part of the night, as menreeled about the settlement in bands, and occasionally our door wouldre-echo with crashing blows and demands for admission. This went on fortwo or three hours, and when things had quieted down and we werethinking of emerging from the stifling hut for fresh air, a shot rangout on the stillness. We seized our rifles, and not a moment too soon, for simultaneously the door flew open with a crash and half a dozen menreeled into the room. One of them brandished a Winchester, but I noticedwith relief that the rest of the intruders were unarmed. The face ofanother whom I recognised as a medicine man, was streaming with bloodfrom a wound across the forehead. Fortunately all were overcome by thefiery poison they had been greedily imbibing and were therefore as weakas children in the hands of seven sober men. In less time than it takesme to write it the invaders were firmly secured with walrus thongs andthrown out of doors to sleep the drink off. A watch was kept throughoutthe night in case of an attack by reinforcements, but the deadly"Tangle-foot" had done its work, and the village did not awaken untilthe following day from its drunken slumbers. Unfortunately a native waskilled by the shot we heard. 

On the morning of the 18th of July Harding and I, while walking on thebeach, remarked a white cloud on the horizon, the only blur on adazzling blue sky. Presently the vapour seemed to solidify, and assumethe appearance of a floating berg, until, a few minutes after, we lookedagain at the object which had attracted our attention, and lo and beholda thin black thread was now ascending from it into the clear still air. "A steamer!" shouted Harding, rushing back to the hut for a field-glass. But before he could return through the deep heavy shingle doubt hadbecome certainty and I had recognised the Revenue cutter _Thetis_. Thisis the same vessel, by the way, which rescued Lieutenant Greely and hisparty on the shores of Smith Sound, but I do not think even they canhave been more heartily grateful to see the trim white vessel than wewere. 

In less than an hour our welcome deliverer had threaded her way throughthe ice, and we stood on the beach and watched her cast anchor abouthalf a mile off shore. As the chains rattled cheerily through the hawseholes Stepan flew, on the wings of a light heart, to the flagstaff. I amnot emotional, but I must confess to feeling a lump in my throat as theStars and Stripes were slowly dipped in response to a salute from ourragged little Union Jack. For with the meeting of those familiar coloursall my troubles seemed to vanish into thin air!

Once aboard the _Thetis_ Harding and I, at any rate, were amongstacquaintances who had previously served on the Revenue cutter _Bear_. Ialso found an old friend, Lieutenant Cochrane, once third officer of the_Bear_, and now second in command of the _Thetis_, which made thissudden change from a life of mental and physical misery to one ofsecurity and well-being the more enjoyable. There was nothing to delaythe cutter, save farewells to our kind old host and the repayment forthe food with which he had provided us, and by midday we were steamingaway from the dreary settlement where I had passed so many anxioushours. And then, for the first time in many weary months, we sat down inthe ward-room to a decent and well-served meal and enjoyed it beyonddescription, for are not all pleasures in this world comparative?Success to the Expedition was drunk in bumpers of champagne, and I thenadjourned to Cochrane's room for coffee and liqueurs and a talk over olddays on the _Bear_. And the afternoon in that cosy, sunlit cabin, theblessed sensation of rest after toil combined with a luxurious loungeand delicious cigar, constituted as near an approach to "Nirvana" as thewriter is ever likely to attain on this side of the grave!

PART II

AMERICA

CHAPTER XIV

ACROSS BERING STRAITS--CAPE PRINCE OF WALES

The term "cutter" is somewhat of a misnomer, if literally taken, for theGovernment vessels which patrol these Northern waters. The _Bear_, forinstance, which landed us on the Siberian coast in 1896, was athree-masted screw-steamer of over 600 tons, an old Dundee whalerpurchased for the United States for the Greeley Relief Expedition. The_Thetis_, although somewhat smaller, is practically a sister ship of the_Bear_, which latter is regarded as the best and stoutest vessel of theRevenue Cutter Service. And her officers and men are well worthy of her. Three or four years ago no less than eight whalers were hopelesslyjammed in the ice off Point Barrow in the Arctic Ocean, and their crewswere in imminent danger of starvation. The season was too far advancedfor a ship to proceed to their rescue, but a party from the _Bear_managed to carry supplies to the beleaguered ships after a sled journeyof almost unparalleled difficulty, and thereby avert a terriblecatastrophe. Several of the shipwrecked men had already perished, butthe majority were rescued, chiefly through the pluck and perseverance ofLieutenant Jarvis, first lieutenant of the _Bear_, and leader of theexpedition. 

The _Thetis_, when she called for us at Whalen, was bound on a missionof some peril--the search for two large steamers from San Franciscowhich, while trying to reach Nome City, had been caught in the pack andswept away by drifting ice into the Polar Sea. Both vessels were crowdedwith passengers, including many women, and the _Thetis_ had already madetwo unsuccessful attempts to ascertain their whereabouts. Indeed, it wasfeared that no more would ever be heard of the _Portland_ or _Jeannie_which had, as usual, been racing to reach Nome City before any rivalliner from the Golden Gate. 

When, on that sunlit morning, we left Whalen, a cloudless sky and glassysea unflecked by the tiniest floe led me to hope that our troubles wereat an end. Captain Healey of the _Thetis_ had resolved to land us onCape Prince of Wales, but when, towards evening, that promontory wassighted, my heart sank at the now familiar sight of ice packed heavilyaround the coast. By nine o'clock we were (to use a whaling term) "upagainst" the outer edge of the pack, and shortly afterwards the enginesof the _Thetis_ were slowed down, for the man in the crow's nestreported trouble ahead. And we found it in plenty, for the stout littlevessel, after cleaving and crashing her way through the floes for acouple of hours, was finally brought to a standstill by an impassablebarrier. We were now about six miles from the land, but an Eskimovillage under the Cape was plainly visible across the swirling masses ofice which were drifting to the northward. 

"I can't go in any further, " cried Healey, and I now had the choice oftwo evils--to attempt a landing with the aid of the natives, or remainon board the Thetis perhaps for weeks searching for the _Portland_ and_Jeannie_. [65] But I quickly decided on the former course, and a signalwas run up for assistance from the shore, which was quickly seen by acrowd of natives assembled on the beach. To add to our difficulties abreeze, which had arisen towards evening, was now assuming theproportions of a southerly gale, and Healey impatiently paced the deck, as he watched the Eskimo launch a _baidara_, and cautiously approach us, now threading narrow leads of water, now hauling their skin-boat acrossthe drifting ice. 

[Footnote 65: Both these vessels were eventually rescued without loss oflife. ]

Finally, after a perilous journey, they reached us, and without amoment's delay the expedition was bundled, bag and baggage, into the_baidara_, for the position of the _Thetis_ was now not devoid ofdanger. Amidst hearty cheers from those on board, we pushed off withsome misgivings, while the cutter slowly veered away northward on hererrand of mercy. I shall never forget that short, but extremelyunpleasant journey. At times it seemed as though our frail craft must beoverwhelmed and swamped, for it was now blowing a gale. Every momenthuge cakes of ice around us were dashed against each other, andsplintered into fragments with a report as of a gun. We made way soslowly that the shore seemed to recede instead of to advance, for oftenboat and baggage had to be hauled across the floes which now travelledso quickly with the wind and tide that it seemed as though we must becarried past our destination and into the Arctic Ocean. Sometimes itlooked as though we could never reach the coast, for--

 "The ice was here, the ice was there, The ice was all around, It cracked and growled, and roared and howled Like noises in a swound. "

At times the ice-islands we were crossing were tossed to and fro by thewaves so violently that it became almost impossible to stand, much lesswalk, on their slippery surface; at others, while all were paddling fordear life, a towering berg would sail down in perilous proximity, forits touch would have sunk our skin boat like a stone. Once I thought itwas all over, when a floe we were on became detached from the main pack, and there was barely time to regain the latter by quickly leaping fromone cake of ice to the other as the waves and current tore them apart. It took us four hours to reach land, or rather the foot-ice securelyattached to it, and here, worn out after the tough struggle against theforces of nature, every man took a much-needed rest. It was not until 7A. M. On June 19 that our feet actually touched the soil of America, sixmonths to a day after our departure from the Gare du Nord, Paris. 

Cape Prince of Wales is a rocky, precipitous promontory about 2000 ft. High, which stands fully exposed to the furious winds, prevalent at alltimes on this connecting link between Bering Sea and the Arctic Ocean. Why Bering Straits should be so known remains a mystery, for theexplorer of that name only sailed through them in the summer of 1728, while Simeon Deschnev, a Cossack, practically discovered them in themiddle of the seventeenth century. [66] Captain Cook, of British fame, who passed through the Straits in 1778, is said to be responsible forthe nomenclature, which seems rather an unjust one, but perhaps theintrepid English navigator had never heard of Deschnev. 

[Footnote 66: "On June 20, 1648, Simeon Deschnev, a Cossack trader, sailed from the River Kolyma for the eastward to trade for ivory withthe Tchuktchis. His party sailed in three small shallops drawing butlittle water. After a while the known waters behind them closed up withfloes, rendering a return to the Kolyma impossible, but the unknownwastes ahead were open, and invited exploration. Hugging the coast, Deschnev sailed through the Bering Straits, landing there in September. He called the Siberian shore an isthmus, and described the DiomedeIslands, which he plainly saw. Although no mention is made by this partyof having seen the American continent, it was probably observed by them, for Cape Prince of Wales can easily be seen on a clear day from theAsiatic side. Deschnev's voyage was quite forgotten until discovered byaccident amongst some old records in 1774. 

"Only in August, 1728, did Bering sail through here, going a shortdistance into the Arctic Ocean, but returning without giving any sign ofthe importance of the pass, or its nature, and believing, most likely, that what land he saw on the eastern side was a mere island, and not thegreat American continent. Captain Cook, who came third, made no mistake, for he fully realised that the division of the two hemispheres was hereaffected, and gave to these straits the name of Bering, August1778. "--"An Arctic Province, " by H.  W. Elliott. ]

The Eskimo settlement which nestles at the foot of Cape Prince of Walesis known as Kingigamoot, and contains about 400 souls. The place lookedinfinitely drearier and more desolate than the filthy Tchuktchi villagewhich had been our home for so many weary weeks, and it seemed to me atfirst as though we had stepped, like the immortal Mr. Winkle in"Pickwick, " "quietly and comfortably out of the frying-pan into thefire. " For our welcome on the shores of America was a terrific gale, and driving sleet against which we could scarcely make headway from thespot where a landing was effected to the village, a distance of perhapsa mile, which took us an hour to accomplish. It was barely eighto'clock, and no one was yet stirring in the settlement, which is onlyvisible a short distance away, for the Eskimo, unlike the Tchuktchis, dwell under the ground. 

The sight of a wooden house with glass windows considerably enlivenedthe dismal and storm-swept landscape, and we made our way to thissolitary haven, which proved to be the residence of Mr. Lopp, anAmerican missionary. His home, though snug enough, was too small tocontain more inmates, being already occupied by its owner's wife andfamily, but an empty shed adjoining it was placed at our disposal, andour hospitable friend bustled about to make it as cosy as possible forour reception. The place was cold, pitch dark, and draughty, being onlyused as a store-house, but by mid-day our tent was pitched inside thebuilding, and a fire was burning merrily in a small stove cleverly fixedup by the missionary, whose kindly assistance was very welcome on thisbleak and barren shore. Food is scarce enough here, and had it not beenfor these good friends in need, we should indeed have fared badly, having landed with but few provisions. But although they could illafford it, the missionary and school teacher, Mrs. Bernardi, gave freelyfrom their scanty store, thereby rendering us a service which I cannever adequately repay. 

Nome City was now our objective point, but how to reach it by land wasa puzzler, the hundred odd miles of country being flooded by meltingsnow. Two or three wide rivers must also be crossed, which at thisseason of the year are often swollen and impassable. It was clearlyuseless to think of walking, so there was nothing for it but to wait forsome passing craft to take us down, a rather gloomy prospect, forwhalers were now entering the Arctic, and few other vessels get so farnorth as this. We were lucky to find a white man at Cape Prince ofWales, for the natives would certainly have afforded us no assistance, and might, indeed, have been actually unfriendly without the firm andrestraining hand of Mr. Lopp to keep them in order. A wide and variedexperience of savage races has seldom shown me a more arrogant, insolent, and generally offensive race than the Alaskan Eskimo, at anyrate of this portion of the country. The Tchuktchis were infinitelysuperior in every respect but perhaps cleanliness, which, after all, matters little in these wilds. With all their faults our Whalen friendswere just and generous in their dealings, though occasionallydisquieting during their periods of festivity. The Eskimo we foundboorish and surly at all times, and the treachery of these people isshown by the fact that a few years previously they had brutally murderedMr. Lopp's predecessor by shooting him with a whale-gun. A monument onthe cliff facing the Straits bears the following inscription:

 HARRISON R. THORNTON, born January 5, 1858, died August 19, 1893. A good soldier of Christ Jesus. Erected by friends in Southport, Conn. 

It is satisfactory to note that the cowardly assassins met with theirdeserts, for the usual excuse of intoxication could not be pleaded forthis foul and deliberate crime. 

Although many of the Prince of Wales natives were fairly well educated, thanks to missionary enterprise, the Tchuktchis could certainly havetaught them manners, for the latter is a gentleman by nature, while theEskimo is a vulgar and aggressive cad. Thanks, however, to the untiringzeal and energy of Mr. Lopp, the younger generation here were a distinctimprovement upon their elders, and the small school conducted by Mrs. Bernardi had produced several scholars of really remarkableintelligence. Amongst these were the publisher and printer of the mostcurious little publication I have ever seen, _The Eskimo Bulletin_, atiny newspaper which is annually published here by the aid of a smallprinting-press belonging to the missionary. The illustrations wereengraved solely by the natives, and were, under the circumstances, verycreditable productions. The advertisements in this unique little journalare suggestive of a fair sized town, whereas Kingigamoot resembled acollection of sand-hills, the only visible signs of civilisation beingthe rather dilapidated huts of the mission. 

The ten days we remained here seemed fully as long, if not longer, thanthe five weeks we had passed at Whalen for the sun only made hisappearance twice, for a couple of hours each time, during the wholeperiod of our stay. Most of our time was passed in the cold draughtyhut, for it was impossible to face the gales and dense fogs whichsucceeded each other with startling rapidity, while on gusty days cloudsof fine gritty sand would fill the eyes, mouth, and nostrils, causinggreat discomfort. There is probably no place in the world where theweather is so persistently vile as on this cheerless portion of theearth's surface. In winter furious tempests and snow, in summer similarstorms, accompanied by rain, sleet, or mist, are experienced here fivedays out of the seven. If by accident a still, sunlit day does occur, itis called a "weather-breeder, " for dirtier weather than before is sureto be lurking behind it. A howling south-wester on the English coastwould be looked upon here as a moderate gale. While walking on the beachone day I was lifted clean off my feet by the wind, although the day waslocally called rather a pleasant one. 

One would think that this storm-swept, grey-skied region woulddiscourage even the natives after a time and make them pine for a morecongenial climate. But to the native of even this bleak and desolatecoast there is no place like home. Mr. Elliott, a reliable authority onthe subject, writes that cases have come under his notice where whalershave carried Eskimo down to the Sandwich Islands (the winter whalingground) under an idea that these people would be delighted with the warmclimate, fruits and flowers, and be grateful for the trip. But in noinstance has an individual of this hyperborean race failed to sigh forhis Arctic home after landing at Hawaii. Nor is this nostalgia of thefrozen north confined to its aboriginal inhabitants, for most explorerswho return from its fastnesses experience sooner or later a keen desireto return. And the majority do so, obedient to an invisible influence asunerring as that of a toy magnet over its fish. 

I had little opportunity of studying the manners and customs of thenatives while at Kingigamoot. Outwardly the Eskimo differs little fromthe Tchuktchi, that is, so far as costume is concerned, but thephysiognomy and languages essentially differ. That the former is fullyas filthy even if more civilised in other ways than the latter I can, from personal experience, testify. Also that the introduction ofChristianity has failed to eradicate the love for strong drink, whichwas quite as prevalent here as at Whalen, although more cunninglyconcealed. An American explorer, Mr. Eugene McElwaine, who recentlytravelled extensively throughout these regions, gleaned the followingfacts, which may interest the reader, but which I am unfortunatelyunable to furnish from my own personal experience. He writes:

"The average Eskimo is very uncleanly in his personal habits anddomestic customs, but is always willing to be taught habits ofcleanliness, and is even anxious to change his mode of living whenbrought to realise its inferiority or repulsiveness. He recognises thewhite man to be his superior, and his inclination is to better hiscondition. 

"The Eskimo's knowledge of the past is vague and indefinite. Their timeis computed by the revolutions of the moon, their distances whentravelling by 'sleeps, ' and they measure a 'yard' by the length betweenthe two hands with arms stretched horizontally. The Eskimo believe in apower that rewards the good and punishes the bad, indicating by gesturesthat the former go above and the latter below after death. They burytheir dead usually on top of the ground in a box made of small timbersor drift-wood, elevating the box four feet from the surface, and restingit on cross poles. Their meagre belongings are generally buried withthem. The small _bidarka_ (skin canoe) is not infrequently used for acasket when the head of the household dies. 

"Their simple funeral rites are conducted by members of the deceased'sown family, no other member of the tribe coming near the house duringthe time or attending the obsequies at the grave. While the remains arebeing deposited in the box a member of the family builds a small firewith twigs of willows, and the fire is kept burning until the burial iscompleted, after which all present march around the fire in single file, chanting a prayer, with bowed heads, and then return to their hut. Thehousehold belongings are now removed from the hut and the family moveoff to build a cabin in another place which the evil spirit will notenter. 

"The Eskimo are clever in many ways. Nearly all the men are experts inbuilding canoes, while many are good carvers and draughtsmen. The writerhas a map of the Arctic region, drawn by one of the Kowak River natives, which is one of the most complete things of the kind ever made. It showsevery river, creek, lake, bay, mountain, village and trail, from themouth of the Yukon River to Point Hope, and the native drew it in fourdays. 

"A hut here is simply an excavation, about three feet deep, twelve feetlong, and sixteen feet wide. Spruce saplings about four feet long andfour inches through are set upright side by side around the interior, supported by the beams. Two posts six feet long and one ridge piecesupport the arched roof, light saplings being used for rafters. Anoblique external portal, five feet long, two feet high, and eighteeninches wide is constructed in the same manner as the hut. The openingfor the door is about eighteen inches wide by two feet high. Thisaddition has a twofold purpose: it shelters the entrance to the familyroom of the hut, and the air which passes through the portal into theapartment carries away the smoke and foul air through a hole in theroof. The structure is finally banked and covered with dirt, and moreresembles a mound than a human habitation. The interior of thesedwellings is not luxurious. The floor is strewn with the pliant branchesof the Arctic willow. A few deerskins lie scattered about, and here themen, women, and children of the tribe sit day after day, and month aftermonth, performing their tasks of labour, and it is here when fatiguedthat they sleep in security and comfort. A miniature camp fire is keptburning day and night during the winter months. "

My unfavourable opinion of the specimens of this race whom we met atCape Prince of Wales is somewhat modified by the following anecdote, also related by Mr. McElwaine:

"An Eskimo lad about sixteen years of age came into my cabin one morningsuffering with an acute bowel complaint. I happened to have apreparation for this trouble in my medicine chest, and administered tohim a dose according to directions. It relieved him somewhat, and aftereating his dinner, he returned home, a distance of some ten miles. In aweek or ten days later he came back, bringing with him a number ofcurios which he had wrapped with care in a piece of deerskin and placedin a small canvas sack. Taking the curios out of the sack one by one, and unwrapping them carefully, he laid them on my table, saying as hedid so in his broken English, 'You like 'em?' Receiving an affirmativereply, he said, 'You catch 'em, ' at the same time shoving the articlestowards me. I thought the young man was bent upon a trade, so, to pleasehim, I laid out upon the table a number of edible articles, togetherwith a red bandana handkerchief (a red handkerchief is prized veryhighly by all the natives), and awaited his decision. It was soonforthcoming. 'Me no catch 'em, ' he said, pointing to the articles whichhe had placed upon the table; 'me give him you. ' He left the trinketswith me, but would not accept a thing in return for them. 

"Some four weeks afterwards this Indian boy came to my cabin again. Hebrought with him on his second visit a pair of small snowshoes and aminiature Eskimo sled. He had been told that I had a little boy at home, and he made me understand that he had made the snowshoes and sled forhim, insisting that I should take them, which I did, but he stoutlyrefused anything in return for them. All this was to show hisappreciation of the little act of kindness which I had inadvertentlydone him. "

Mr. McElwaine concludes: "And yet, against the aborigines of NorthernAlaska many explorers have charged that they are the most ungratefulwretches in the world. "

Personally, I can cordially endorse this statement, but perhaps a veryshort residence amongst these people has left me ignorant of their realmerits, and Mr. McElwaine may be perfectly right when he adds, inconnection with the aforesaid explorers: "All such statements are, in myopinion, founded upon a misapprehension of the true character of thispeculiar race. "

Mr. Henry Elliott thus describes the Eskimo, or Innuit, as he issometimes called, inhabiting the far northern portions of Alaska: "Theaverage Innuit stands about five feet seven inches in his heellessboots. He is slightly Mongolian in his complexion and facial expression. A broad face, prominent cheek-bones, a large mouth with full lips, smallblack eyes, prominently set in their sockets, not under a lowering brow, as in the case of true Indian faces. The nose is insignificant, and muchdepressed, with scarcely any bridge. He has an abundance of coarse blackhair, which up to the age of thirty years is cut pretty close; afterthis period in life it is worn in ragged, unkempt locks. The hands andfeet are shapely, the limbs strong and well-formed. An Eskimo woman isproportionately smaller than the man, and when young sometimesgood-looking. She has small, tapering hands, and high-instepped feet, and rarely pierces her lips or disfigures her nose. She lavishes uponher child or children a wealth of affection, endowing them with all herornaments. The hair of the Innuit woman is allowed to grow to its fulllength and is gathered up behind into thick braids, or else bound up inropes, lashed by copper wire or sinews. She seldom tattoos herself, buta faint drawing of transverse blue lines upon the chin and cheeks isusually made by her best friend when she is married. "

The reader will probably infer, after reading the foregoing notes, thatthere is really very little difference, broadly speaking, between aTchuktchi and an Eskimo, and yet the two are as dissimilar in racialcharacteristics and customs as a Russian and a Turk. Personal experienceinclines me to regard the Siberian native as immeasurably superior tohis Alaskan neighbours, [67] both from a moral and physical point ofview, for the Eskimo is fully as vicious as the Tchuktchi, who franklyboasts of his depravity, while the former cloaks it beneath a mantle ofhypocrisy not wholly unconnected with a knowledge of the white man andhis methods. But every cloud has its silver lining, and it iscomforting to think that even this rapacious and dissipated race canoccasionally derive pleasure from the beauties of nature. Whilestrolling round the settlement one day, I gathered a nosegay of wildflowers, including a species of yellow poppy, anent which Kingigamootcherishes a pretty superstition. This flower blossoms in profusion aboutmid June around Cape Prince of Wales, and by the end of July haswithered away. Simultaneously a tiny golden butterfly makes itsappearance for about a fortnight, and also disappears. I was gravelyinformed by perhaps the greatest inebriate in the village that the poppyand the insect bear a similar name, for when the former has bloomed fora while it develops a pair of wings and flies away to return again thefollowing summer in the guise of a flower. 

[Footnote 67: It is only fair to say that the only Eskimo I met werethose at Kingigamoot, and the enmity of these particular natives to mostwhite men is by some ascribed to the following incident. Some thirtyyears ago a small trading-schooner from San Francisco dropped anchor offthe village, and was at once boarded and looted by the natives, whokilled two of her crew. The remainder of the white men escaped withtheir vessel, and returned the following year under escort of a revenuecutter. Several natives were induced to visit the latter, and whenperhaps a score had been lured on board the Government vessel, shesteamed away, intending to carry off the Kingigamoot men and punish themfor the outrage committed the preceding year. But a fight at once ensuedon the deck of the cutter, and every Eskimo was shot down and killed. Relatives of these men are still living at Kingigamoot, and thegenerally aggressive demeanour of the natives here is often ascribed tothis fact, for the vendetta practised amongst both the Tchuktchis andEskimo is fully as bitter and relentless as that which exists inCorsica. ]

During my rambles I came across some curious stone erections on thesummit of the Cape. They were moss-grown, much dilapidated, andapparently of great age. The tomb-like contrivances are said to havebeen constructed by the Eskimo as a protection against invaders--thepillars of stone, laid loosely one on the other, about ten feet high, torepresent men, and thus deceive the enemy. But for the truth of this Icannot vouch. 

The ice remained so thickly piled up around the coast for four or fivedays after our arrival here that no look-out was kept. No vessel wouldwillingly have approached this part of the coast without a specialpurpose, and Cape Prince of Wales possesses few attractions, commercialor otherwise. On a clear day the Siberian coast was visible, and theDiomede islands appeared so close with the aid of a field-glass thattheir tiny drab settlements were distinguishable against the dark massesof rock. The big and little Diomedes are about two miles apart, and theline of demarcation between Russia and America strikes the former offits eastern coast. From the most westerly point of Alaska to the mosteasterly point of the little Diomede (Ratmanoff) the distance is aboutfifteen miles, and from the most easterly point of Siberia to the mostwesterly point of the big Diomede (Krusenstern) the distance is abouttwenty miles. On the southern extremity of the larger island, a smallvillage is situated, containing about a hundred and fifty natives(Russian subjects), and on the smaller one is another small village, with about the same number of American Eskimo. Fairway rock, a littleway east of Ratmanoff island, is not inhabited. The comparatively shortdistance between the two continents and the intermediate islands hassuggested the utilisation of the latter as supports for a leviathanrailway bridge, a theory which (as Euclid would remark) is obviously"absurd. " For no bridge could withstand the force of the spring ice inBering Straits for one week. On the other hand, the boring of a tunnelfrom shore to shore is not entirely without the range of possibility, but of this, and of other matters dealing with the construction of aFranco-American railway, I shall deal fully in the concluding chapter ofthis work. 

CHAPTER XV

AN ARCTIC CITY

 "You will find a magic city On the shore of Bering Strait, Which shall be for you a station To unload your Arctic freight. Where the gold of Humboldt's vision Has for countless ages lain, Waiting for the hand of labour And the Saxon's tireless brain. "

 S. DUNHAM. 

Billy, the ex-whaleman, accompanied us here on board the _Thetis_, intending to make his way to Nome City. The commander of the cutter hadlet him go free, thinking, no doubt, that the poor fellow had beensufficiently punished for his misdeeds by a winter passed amongst thesavages of Northern Siberia. One day during our stay here a native setout in a skin boat for Nome, and notwithstanding my warnings and afalling barometer Billy resolved to accompany him. But shortly afterleaving us the pair encountered a furious gale, which swept them back tothe Cape in an exhausted condition, nearly frozen to death after aterrible night in the ice. 

By the end of a week the latter had almost disappeared. A vessel couldnow anchor with ease off the settlement, but it seemed as though weshould have to wait until the autumn for that happy consummation. I hadtherefore decided, after consultation with the missionary, on riskingthe journey in a _baidara_, when, on the evening of the tenth day, ourlonging eyes were gladdened by the sight of a small steamer approachingthe Cape. She proved to be the _Sadie_, of the "Alaska CommercialCompany, " returning from her first trip of the year to Candle Creek, [68]a gold-mining settlement on the Arctic Ocean, which had beenunapproachable on account of heavy ice. Fortunately for us the Captainhad suddenly resolved to call at Kingigamoot in case the missionaryneeded assistance, and on hearing of our plight at once offered theExpedition a passage to Nome City, whither the _Sadie_ was bound. Bidding farewell to our kind friends at the Mission, without whoseassistance we should indeed have fared badly, we soon were aboard theclean and comfortable little steamer. A warm welcome awaited us from herskipper, a jovial Heligolander, who at the same time imparted to us thejoyful news that the war in South Africa was at an end. Twenty-fourhours later we were once more in civilisation, for during the summerthere is frequent steam communication between the remote althoughup-to-date mining city of Nome and our final destination, New York. 

[Footnote 68: In the summer of 1901, $30, 000 were taken out of thiscreek. ]

Cape Nome derives its name from the Indian word "_No-me_, " whichsignifies in English, "I don't know. " In former days, when whalersanchored here to trade, the invariable answer given by the natives toall questions put by the white men was "_No-me_, " meaning that they didnot understand, and the name of the place was thus derived. On CapeNome, four years ago an Arctic desert, there now stands a fine andwell-built city. In winter the place can only be reached by dog-sled, after a fatiguing, if not perilous, journey across Alaska, but in theopen season you may now travel there almost any week in large linersfrom San Francisco. It seemed like a dream to land suddenly in thismodern town, within a day's journey of Whalen with all its savagery andsqualor, and it was somewhat trying to have to walk up the crowded mainstreet in our filthy, ragged state. Eventually, however, we were riggedup at a well-stocked clothing establishment in suits of dittos whichwould hardly have passed muster in Bond Street, but which did very wellfor our purpose. And that evening, dining at a luxurious hotel, withpeople in evening dress, palms, and a string band around us, I couldscarcely realise that only a few days ago we were practically starvingin a filthy Siberian village. Handsome buildings, churches, theatres, electric light and telephones are not usually associated with theice-bound Arctic, but they are all to be found in Nome City, which isnow connected by telegraph with the outside world. 

And yet the first log-cabin here was only built in the winter of 1898. This formed the nucleus of a town of about three thousand inhabitants byAugust of the following year, which by the middle of July 1900 had growninto a colony of more than twenty thousand people. As sometimes happens, the first discoverers of gold were not the ones to profit by theirlucky find, for this is what happened. Early in July 1898 threeprospectors, one Blake, an American, and his two companions, weresailing up the coast in a small schooner, when, abreast of Cape Nome, astorm struck their tiny craft and cast her up on the beach. The galelasted for several days, and the men made use of the time prospecting inthe vicinity of the Snake River, which now runs through the city. At themouth of Anvil Creek, good colours were found at a depth of one foot, the dirt averaging from fifty cents to one dollar the pan. Satisfiedthat they had made an important discovery, the men returned as soon asthe weather would permit to their permanent camp in Golovin Bay, downcoast, for provisions and mining tools, and thus lost, perhaps, therichest gold-producing property yet discovered in Alaska. How the secretgot about was never known (perhaps "tanglefoot" was not unconnected withits disclosure), but three Swedes (one of whom was then areindeer-herder and is now a millionaire), got wind of the news, andquickly and quietly set out for Cape Nome, which they reached late inSeptember of the same year. Ascending Snake River, they prospected Anviland other Creeks, and in three days took out $1800 (nearly £400). Afterstaking all the claims of apparent value, the Swedes returned to GolovinBay, and having staked their ground, were not afraid to communicate thenews of their discovery. It was, therefore, only after all the goodclaims had been appropriated that poor Blake and his associatesdiscovered that their anticipated golden harvest had been reaped by theenergetic Scandinavians. 

Fresh finds speedily followed, notably of one rich spot about five mileswest of Nome, where $9000 was rocked out of a hole twelve foot squareand four feet deep in three days. Then gold began to appear on thebeach. Small particles of it were found in the very streets, so thatthis Arctic township may almost be said to have been at one timeliterally paved with gold. In 1899 the seashore alone produced between$1, 750, 000 and $2, 000, 000. 

The presence here of a numerous and influential Press astonished me morethan anything else. Nome City can boast of no less than threenewspapers, and no sooner was the Expedition comfortably installed inthe "Golden Gate Hotel" than it was besieged by the usual reporters. Therapidity with which the interviews were published would have done creditto a London evening paper, and I could only admire the versatility ofthe gentleman who, only four hours after our arrival, brought out aspecial edition of the _Nome Nugget_, containing a portrait of His RoyalHighness the Duke of the Abruzzi in full naval uniform, which wasdescribed as his humble servant: the writer! The jealousy amongst theseArctic editors is as keen and bitter as it ever was in Eatanswill, andthe next day the following paragraph appeared in the _News_, a rivalpublication:

"One of our contemporaries has celebrated the rescue of some explorersfrom starvation by publishing the picture of Prince Louis of Savoy underthe caption 'Harry de Windt. ' But the Italian prince is also anexplorer, and probably all explorers look alike to the _Nugget_!"

Nome City impressed me at first as being a kind of squalid Monte Carlo. There is the same unrest, the same feverish quest for gold, and the sameextravagance of life as in the devil's garden on the blue Mediterranean. On landing, I was struck with the number of well-dressed men and womenwho rub shoulders in the street with the dilapidated-looking miningelement. In the same way palatial banks and prim business houses areincongruously scattered amongst saloons and drinking bars. Front Street, facing the sea, is the principal thoroughfare, so crowded at midday thatyou can scarcely get along. It is paved with wood, imported here atenormous expense, and a pavement of the same material is raised abouttwo feet above the roadway. Here are good shops where everything ischeap, for during the great gold-rush Nome was over-stocked. Wearingapparel may be purchased here even cheaper than in San Francisco, andeverything is on the same scale; oranges, for instance, which two yearsago cost one dollar apiece and which are now sold in the streets forfive cents. Luxurious shaving saloons abound, also restaurants--one keptby a Frenchman who is deservedly reaping a golden harvest. 

In summer there is no rest here throughout the twenty-four hours. Peoplewander aimlessly about the streets, eternally discussing quartz andplacer-claims, and recent strikes, which here form the sole topic ofconversation, like a run on zero or the cards at Monaco. Port Said issuggested by the dusty, flashy streets and cosmopolitan crowd, also bythe fact that gambling saloons and even shops remain open all night, orso long as customers are stirring, which is generally from supper untilbreakfast-time, for at this season of perpetual daylight no one everseemed to go to bed. The sight of the principal street at four in themorning, with music halls, restaurants, drinking and dancing saloonsblazing with electricity in the cold, grey light of a midnight sun wasboth novel and unique. At this hour the night-houses were alwayscrowded, and you might re-visit them at midday and find the sameoccupants still out of bed, drinking, smoking, and gambling, yet asquiet and orderly in their demeanour as a company of Quakers. For, notwithstanding its large percentage of the riff-raff element, crime isvery rare in Nome. I frequently visited the gambling saloons, wheregum-booted, mud-stained prospectors elbowed women in dainty Parisiangowns and men in the conventional swallowtail, but I never once saw ashot fired, nor even a dispute, although champagne flowed like water. These places generally consisted of a spacious and gaudily decoratedhall with a drinking bar surrounded by various _roulette_, _crap_, and_faro_ tables. The price of a drink admitted you to an adjoining musichall, where I witnessed a variety entertainment that would scarcely havepassed the London County Council. But gambling was the chief attraction, and it seemed to be fair, for cheating is clearly superfluous with threezeros! Many of the frequenters of these night-houses appeared to beforeigners, chiefly Swedes and Germans, and a few Frenchmen, and thecompany was very mixed, Jews, Greeks, and Levantines being numerousamongst the men, whilst the ladies were mostly flashily dressed birdsof passage from San Francisco, only here for a brief space beforeflitting South, like the swallows, at the first fall of snow. 

There was a delightfully free-and-easy, _laisser-aller_ air abouteverybody and everything at Nome City, which would, perhaps, have jarredupon an ultra-respectable mind. Most of the ladies at the Golden GateHotel were located there in couples, unattended, permanently at anyrate, by male protectors. The bedroom adjoining mine was occupied by twoof these Californian _houris_, whose habits were apparently not framedon Lucretian lines. For the manager appeared at my bedside early onemorning with a polite request that I would rise and dress as quietly aspossible, as the "ladies" next door had just gone to bed for the firsttime in three days, and rather needed a rest!

A stroll through the streets of Nome at midday was also amusing, although the sun blazed down with a force which recalled summer-days inHong-kong or Calcutta. It was then hard to picture these warm and sunlitstreets swept by howling blizzards and buried in drifts which frequentlyrise to the roofs of the houses, until their inmates have to beliterally dug out after a night of wind and snow. But when we were atNome, Cairo in August would have seemed cool by comparison, and I beganto doubt whether ice here could ever exist, for nothing around wassuggestive of a Northern clime. The open-air life, muslin-clad women, gaily striped awnings, and Neapolitan fruit-sellers seemed to bear oneimperceptibly to some sunlit town of Italy or Spain, thousands of milesaway from this gloomy world (in winter) of cold and darkness. Onlyoccasionally a skin-clad Eskimo from up coast would slouch shyly throughthe busy throng, rudely recalling the fact that we were still within theregion of raw seal-meat and walrus-hide huts. 

Most of the prospectors I met here had no use for the place as agold-mining centre, but I should add that these grumblers were usuallyinexperienced men, who had come in with no knowledge whatever of quartzor placer-mining. On the other hand, fortunes have been made withremarkable ease and rapidity, as in the case of one of the firstpioneers, Mr. Lindeberg, a young Swede (already mentioned), who arrivedhere as a reindeer-herder and now owns the largest share of Anvil Creek. From this about $3, 000, 000 have been taken in two years, and the luckyproprietor has recently laid a line of railway to his claims, aboutseven miles out of Nome. Anvil Creek has turned out the largest nuggetever found in Alaska. 

Generally speaking, however, Nome is no place for a poor man, althoughwhen we were there five dollars a day (and all found) could be easilyearned on the Creeks. I invariably found men connected with largecompanies enthusiastic, and grub-stakers down on their luck. Lack ofwater in this district has proved a stumbling block which will shortlybe dispelled by machinery. Anvil Creek will probably yield double theoutput hitherto extracted when this commodity has been turned on, andthis is now being done at an enormous cost by its enterprisingproprietors. But the days are past when nuggets were picked up here onthe beach, for it now needs costly machinery to find them in theinterior. Even during the first mad rush, when Nome was but a town oftents, many who expected to find the country teeming with gold weredisappointed. In those days men would often rush ashore, after restlessnights passed on board ship in wakeful anticipation, catch up half adozen handfuls of earth, and finding nothing, cry, "I told you it wasall a fake, " and re-embark on the first steamer for San Francisco. Ittherefore came to pass that patient, hard-working men like Lindeberg, inured to hardship and privation, whose primary object in the countrywas totally unconnected with mining, have made colossal fortunes solelyby dogged perseverance and the sweat of their brow. The general opinionhere seemed to be that at the present time a man with a capital of, say, £10, 000 could succeed here, but even then it was doubtful whether themoney could not be more profitably invested in a more temperate clime, and one involving less risk to life and limb. 

Although epidemics occasionally occur, Nome cannot be called unhealthy. The greatest variation of temperature is probably from 40° below zero inwinter to 90° above in summer, and the dry, intense cold we experiencedin Northern Siberia is here unknown. Only a short time ago the seajourney to Nome was no less hazardous than the land trip formerly wasover the dreaded Chilkoot Pass and across the treacherous lakes toDawson City. In those days catastrophes were only too frequent in thatgraveyard of the Pacific, Bering Sea, and this was chiefly on accountof unseaworthy ships patched up for passenger-traffic by unscrupulousowners in San Francisco. Nome City can now be reached by the finesteamships of the "Alaska Commercial Company" as safely and comfortablyas New York in an Atlantic liner, but these boats are unfortunately inthe minority, and even while we were at Nome, passengers were arrivingthere almost daily on board veritable coffin-ships, in which I would notwillingly navigate the Serpentine. Shipping disasters have been frequentnot only at sea, but also while landing here, for Nome has no harbour, but merely an open, shallow roadstead, fully exposed to the billows ofthe ocean. There is therefore frequently a heavy surf along the beach, and here many a poor miner has been drowned within a few yards of theEldorado he has risked his all to reach. 

Intending prospectors should know that nearly every available mile ofcountry from Norton Sound to the Arctic Ocean has now been staked out, and before claims are now obtained they must be paid for. Americanmissionaries have not been behind-hand in the race for wealth, and inconnection with this subject, the following lines by a disappointedKlondiker are not without humour:

 "Then we climbed the cold creeks near a mission That is run by the agents of God, Who trade Bibles and Prayer-books to heathen For ivory, sealskins and cod. At last we were sure we had struck it, But alas! for our hope of reward, The landscape from sea-beach to sky-line Was staked in the name of the Lord!"[69]

[Footnote 69: "The Goldsmith of Nome, " by Sam Dunham. (Neale PublishingCompany, Washington, D. C. )]

That these lines, however, do not apply to _all_ Alaskan missionaries Ican testify from a personal knowledge of our good friend Mr. Lopp'scomfortless, primitive life, and unselfish devotion to the cause ofChristianity. 

CHAPTER XVI

A RIVER OF GOLD

The heading of this chapter is not suggested by a flight of fancy, butby solid fact, for there is not a mile along either bank of the YukonRiver, over 2000 miles long from the great lakes to Bering Sea, whereyou cannot dip in a pan and get a colour. Gold may not be found inpaying quantities so near the main stream, but it is there. 

From Nome to Dawson City is about 1600 miles, the terminus of the YukonRiver steamers being St. Michael, on Bering Sea. When I was at thisplace in 1896, it consisted of two or three small buildings of the"Alaska Commercial Company, " a Russian church and ruined stockade, andabout a dozen Eskimo wigwams. During my stay there, on that occasion, one small cargo-boat arrived from the South, and a solitary whaler putin for water, their appearance causing wild excitement amongst the fewwhite settlers. 

Although the civilisation of Nome City had somewhat prepared me forsurprises, I scarcely expected to find St. Michael converted from asqualid settlement into a modern city almost as fine as Nome itself. Forhere also were a large hotel, good shops, electric light, and aroadstead alive with shipping of every description from the Eskimo_kayak_ to the towering liner from 'Frisco. We arrived at 6 A. M. After atwelve hours' journey from Nome, but even at that early hour the clangof a ship-yard and shriek of steam syrens were awakening the once silentand desolate waters of Norton Sound. St. Michael feeds and clothes theAlaskan miner, despatches goods and stores into the remotest corner ofthis barren land, and has thus rapidly grown from a dreary littlesettlement into a centre of mercantile activity. Seven years ago Ijourneyed down the Yukon towards Siberia and a problematical Paris in asmall crowded steamer, built of roughly hewn logs, and propelled by afussy little engine of mediæval construction. We then slept on planks, dined in our shirt-sleeves, and scrambled for meals which a respectabledog would have turned from in disgust. On the present occasion weembarked on board a floating palace, a huge stern-wheeler, as large andluxuriously appointed as the most modern Mississippi flyer. The_Hannah's_ airy deck-halls were of dainty white, picked out with gold, some of the well-furnished state-rooms had baths attached, and a perfect_cuisine_ partly atoned for the wearisome monotony of a long rivervoyage. 

A delay here of twenty-four hours enabled me to re-visit the places Ihad known only too well while wearily awaiting the _Bear_ here for fiveweeks in 1896. But everything was changed beyond recognition. Only twolandmarks remained of the old St. Michael: the agency of the "AlaskaCommercial Company, " and the wooden church built by the Russians duringtheir occupation of the country. [70] A native hut near the beach, whereI was wont to smoke my evening pipe with an old Eskimo fisherman, wasnow a circulating library; the ramshackle rest-house, once crowded with"Toughs, " a fashionable hotel with a verandah and five o'clocktea-tables for the use of the select. And here I may note that tea is, or was, all that the traveller can get here, for St. Michael is now amilitary reservation, where even the sale of beer or claret is strictlyprohibited. My old friend Mikouline would have fared badly throughoutthis part of the journey, for from here on to Dawson City alcoholicrefreshment of any kind was absolutely unprocurable, and although theheat was tropical, iced water, not always of the purest description, wasthe only cold beverage obtainable at St. Michael or on the river. I wasafterwards informed that the initiated always carry their own cellar, and having a rooted antipathy to tea at dinner (especially when servedin conjunction with tinned soup), regretted that I had not ascertainedthis fact before we left Nome. 

[Footnote 70: The Russo-Greek religion is still maintained throughoutAlaska, and nearly a hundred of its churches and chapels still existthroughout the country and in the Aleutian Islands. ]

But although this liquor law was enforced with severity ashore itsinfringement afloat was openly winked at by the authorities. Soldierswere stationed night and day with loaded rifles on the beach to preventthe importation of spirits, and yet within half a mile of them, anchoredin the roadstead, were four or five hulks, floating public-houses, wherea man might get as drunk as he pleased with impunity, and often forthe last time, especially when a return to the shore had to be madethrough a nasty sea in a skin _kayak_. It was even whispered that"Hootch" (a fiery poison akin to "Tanglefoot") was manufactured at thebarracks, and retailed by the soldiers to the natives, the very classfor whose protection against temptation the prohibitive law was framed. 

[Illustration: ESKIMO GIRLS. ]

"All my men are intoxicated, " the Commandant at St. Michael was said tohave exclaimed. "So I suppose I had better get drunk myself. "

But there was little love lost here between the civil and militaryelement, and these were probably libels, for I have seldom seen a betterdrilled or disciplined set of men, although the hideous uniform of theAmerican linesman is less suggestive of a soldier than of a railwayguard. [71]

[Footnote 71: Permanent military posts of the United States have beenestablished as follows, throughout Alaska: Fort Egbert at Circle City, Fort Gibbon on the Tanana River, Fort Valdez on Prince William Sound, Fort Davis at Nome, and Fort St. Michael on the island of that name. ]

The heat at St. Michael was even more oppressive than at Nome, and itwas impossible to stir out of doors at midday with any comfort. We weretherefore not sorry to embark on board the _Hannah_, of the "AlaskaCommercial Company, " which contained one hundred state-rooms, of whichbarely a dozen were occupied, for at this season of the year travellersare mostly outward bound. The White Pass railway has practically killedthe Yukon passenger trade, for people now travel to Dawson by rail, andto Nome by sea direct. They used to go by ocean steamer to St. Michael, and thence ascend the river to Dawson, for in those days the perilousChilkoot Pass was the only direct way from the South into the Klondikeregion. Our fellow travellers, therefore, lacked in numbers but not inoriginality, for they included a millionaire in fustian, who preferredto eat with the crew; a young and well-dressed widow from San Francisco, who owned claims on the Tanana and worked them herself; a confidence-manwith a gambling outfit, who had struck the wrong crowd; and last, butnot least, Mrs. Z. , recently a well-known _prima donna_ in the UnitedStates, who, although in the zenith of her youthful fame and popularity, had abandoned a brilliant career to share the fortunes of her husband, an official of the "Alaska Commercial Company, " in this inartistic land. I found the conditions of travel on the Yukon as completely changed aseverything else. Even the technical expressions once used by thegold-mining fraternity were now replaced by others. Thus the "Oldtimer"had become "a Sourdough, " and his antithesis, the "Tenderfoot, " was nowcalled a "Chechako. " A word now frequently heard (and unknown in 1896)was "Musher, " signifying a prospector who is not afraid to explore theunknown. This word is of Canadian origin, and probably a corruption ofthe French "_Marcheur_. " Various passengers on board the _Hannah_ weresaid to be returning to their homes with "Cold feet, " also a new term, defining the disappointed gold-seeker who is leaving the country indisgust. 

But a change which excited both my admiration and approval was that inthe accommodation provided on board the _Hannah_ and the reallyexcellent dinner to which we sat down every day, although enforcedteetotalism was somewhat irritating to those accustomed to wine withtheir meals. It is no exaggeration to say that an overland journey maynow be made from Skagway to Nome City with as little discomfort as atrip across Switzerland, if the tourist keeps to the beaten track byrail and steamer. But the slightest deviation on either side will showhim what Alaskan travel really was, and he will then probably curse thecountry and all that therein lies. The tourist may even experience sometrying hours on the river-boat, for although the latter is fitted withcunning contrivances for their exclusion, mosquitoes invariably swarm, and the Yukon specimen is so unequalled for size and ferocity that Ionce heard an old miner declare that this virulent insect was "as big asa rabbit and bit at both ends. " But this is about the only discomfortthat travellers by the main route through Alaska need now endure. Otherwise the path of travel has been made almost as smooth as Cook'seasiest tours. 

As the reader may one day summon the courage to visit this greatNorthern land, it may not be out of place to give a brief history ofAlaska, which, only thirty years ago, was peopled solely by Indians anda few Russian settlers, and was practically unknown to the civilisedworld. 

It has always seemed strange to me that Russia, a country with aworld-wide reputation for diplomatic shrewdness, should have made suchan egregious error as to part with Alaska at a merely nominalprice, [72] the more so that when the transfer took place gold had longbeen known to exist in this Arctic province. Vitus Bering discoveredtraces of it as far back as the eighteenth century. William H. Seward, Secretary of State under President Johnson, was mainly responsible forthe purchase of this huge territory, which covers an area of about600, 000 square miles, measuring 1000 miles from north to south and 3500miles from east to west. It is said that the coast line alone, ifstraightened out, would girdle the globe. 

[Footnote 72: The word "Alaska" is derived from the Indian "Al-ay-eksa, "which signifies a great country. ]

The formal transfer of Alaska to the United States was made on October18, 1867, and its acquisition was first regarded with great disfavour bythe majority of the American public. Although only $7, 200, 000 was paidfor the whole of Russian America, [73] the general opinion in New Yorkand other large cities of the Union was that "Seward's ice-box, " as itwas then derisively termed, would prove a white elephant, and that thestatesman responsible for its purchase had been, plainly speaking, sold. It was only when the marvellous riches of Nome were disclosed thatpeople began to realise what the annexation of the country really meant, although even at this period Alaska had already repaid itself many timesover. Klondike had already startled the civilised world, but this is, of course, in British territory. Nevertheless, between the years 1870and 1900 Secretary Seward's investment had returned nearly $8, 000, 000, and within the same period fisheries and furs had yielded no less than$100, 000, 000. Gold and timber had produced $40, 000, 000 more, making aclear profit of nearly $200, 000, 000 in thirty years. 

[Footnote 73: It is said that most of this was used in Petersburg tosatisfy old debts and obligations incurred by Alaskan enterprises, attorneys' fees, &c. , so in short Russia really gave her Americanpossessions to the American people, reaping no direct emolumentwhatsoever from the transfer. ("Our Arctic Province, " by Henry W. Elliott. )]

It is sad to think that the once maligned politician who acquired thispriceless treasure did not live to see his golden dream realised. A fewdays before his death the Secretary was asked what he considered themost important measure of his official career. 

"The purchase of Alaska, " was the reply, "but it will take the people ageneration to find it out. "

Alaska may be divided into two great south-east and western districts. Mount St. Elias, nearly 20, 000 ft. High, marks the dividing line at 141°west long. , running north from this point to the Arctic Ocean. Thediversity of climate existing throughout this huge province from itssouthern coast to the shores of the Polar Sea is naturally very great, and the marvellous contrast between an Alaskan June and December hasnowhere been more picturesquely and graphically described than byGeneral Sir William Butler in his "Great Lone Land": "In summer a landof sound--a land echoed with the voices of birds, the ripple of runningwater, the mournful music of the waving pine branch; in winter a land ofsilence, its great rivers glimmering in the moonlight, wrapped in theirshrouds of ice, its still forests rising weird and spectral against theauroral-lighted horizon, its nights so still that the moving streamersacross the Northern skies seem to carry to the ear a sense of sound!"

On the North Pacific coast densely wooded islands are so numerous thatfrom Victoria in British Columbia to the town of Skagway at the head ofthe Lynn Canal there are but a few miles of open sea. Inland, almost asfar as the Arctic Circle, mountain ranges, some of great altitude, areeverywhere visible. There are also many large lakes, surrounded by theswamps, and impenetrable forests, that formerly rendered Alaska so harda nut for the explorer to crack. Only a few miles north of the coastrange fertile soil and luxurious vegetation are replaced by Arcticdeserts. Here, for eight months of the year, plains and rivers aremerged into one vast wilderness of ice, save during the short summerwhen dog-roses bloom and the coarse luxurious grass is plentifullysprinkled with daisies and other wild flowers. In Central Alaska theground is perpetually frozen to a depth of several inches, and in theNorth wells have been sunk through forty feet of solid ice. 

Alaska is fairly healthy, although the temperature in the interiorranges from 90° in the shade to over 60° below zero Fahr. May, June, andJuly are the best months for travelling, for the days are then generallybright and pleasant and the heat tempered by a cool breeze. On the coastduring the summer rain and fogs prevail, and the sun is onlyoccasionally visible, for there are on an average only sixty-six finedays throughout the year. In 1884, a rainfall of sixty-four inches wasregistered at Unalaska. The rain seldom pours down here, but falls in asteady drizzle from a hopelessly leaden sky, under which a grey andsodden landscape presents a picture of dreary desolation. But this dampcheerlessness has its advantages, for incessant humidity sheds perpetualverdure over the coast-districts, where the thermometer rarely falls aslow as zero Fahr. Winter only sets in here about the 1st of December, and snow has vanished by the end of May, while in the interior lakes andrivers are still in the grip of the ice. Near the sea the soil is richand root-crops are prolific, while horses and cattle thrive well, alsothe ports as far north as Cook's Inlet are open to navigation all theyear round, so that, taking all these facts into consideration, coastsettlements are preferable as a permanent residence to those of theinterior, with the exception, perhaps, of Dawson City. 

It is said that the mild climate of Southern Alaska is due to the JapanGulf Stream, which first strikes the North American continent at theQueen Charlotte Island in latitude 50° north. At this point the streamdivides, one part going northward and westward along the coast ofAlaska, and the other southward along the coast of British Columbia, Washington territory, Oregon, and California. Thus the climate of thesestates is made mild and pleasant in precisely the same way as the shoresof Spain, Portugal and France by the ocean currents of the Atlantic. 

Notwithstanding the society of pleasant fellow travellers, life on boardthe _Hannah_ became intolerably tedious after the first few days. TheLower Yukon is not an attractive river from a picturesque point ofview, and only the upper portion of its two thousand odd miles possessesany scenic interest. Grey and monotonous tundra rolling away to thehorizon, and melancholy, grey-green shrubs lining the stream formed thedaily and dismal landscape during the first week. There is literallynothing of interest to be seen along the banks of the Yukon from itsmouth to Dawson City, save perhaps the Catholic mission of the HolyCross at Koserefski; which is prettily situated within a stone's throwof the river, and consists of several neat wooden buildings comprising abeautiful little chapel and school for native children. The _Hannah_remained here for some hours, which enabled me to renew my acquaintancewith the good nuns, and to visit the schoolhouse, where some Indianchildren of both sexes were at work. French was the language spoken, andit seemed strange to hear the crisp, clear accent in this desertedcorner of civilisation. An old acquaintance of my former voyage, prettySister Winifred, showed us around the garden, with its smooth greenlawns, bright flower-beds, and white statue of Our Lady in a shrine ofpine boughs. All the surroundings wore an air of peace and homelinesssuggestive of some quiet country village in far-away France, and I couldhave lingered here for hours had not large and bloodthirsty mosquitoesswarmed from the woods around and driven me reluctantly back to thesteamer. 

At Koserefski we bade a final farewell to the "Tundra" and its Eskimo, and from here onwards encountered only dense forests and the unsavouryand generally sulky Alaskan Indian. They are not a pleasing race, forlaziness and impudence seemed to be the chief characteristics of thosewith whom we had to deal throughout the former journey. On this occasionwe met with very few natives, who have apparently been driven out of theprincipal towns by the white man. The Alaskan Indian's once picturesquecostume is now discarded for clothes of European cut, which render himeven more unattractive than ever. Moccasins and his pretty bark-canoeare now the only distinctive mark of the _Siwash_, who is as fond ofstrong drink as the Eskimo, and also resembles the latter in hisboundless capacities for lying and theft. But there are probably notmore than 1500 natives in all inhabiting the Yukon region, and these arerapidly decreasing. I do not think I saw more than fifty Indiansthroughout the journey from Cape Nome to Skagway, the terminus of the"White Pass" railway. South of this, along the coast to Vancouver, theywere more numerous, and apparently less lazy and degraded than theIndians of the interior. 

On board the _Hannah_ the talk was all of gold, and every one, fromcaptain to cook, seemed indirectly interested in the capture of theprecious metal. The purser had claims to dispose of, and even yourbedroom steward knew of a likely ledge of which he would divulge theposition--for a consideration. The Koyukuk and Tanana rivers on thispart of the Yukon are new ground, and are said to be promising, but Icould hear of no reliable discoveries of any extent on either of thesestreams. 

"Cities" on the American Yukon consist of perhaps a score or more of loghuts, which Yankee push and enterprise have invested with the dignityof towns. "Rampart City, " for instance, which the _Hannah_ reached onthe sixth day in from the coast, consisted of only about thirtyone-storied wooden dwellings, the erection of which had been due to thediscovery of gold in the vicinity, although during the previous year(1901) the claims around had only produced £40, 000. And yet even thistiny township could boast of two hotels, five or six saloons, electriclight and two newspapers: the _Alaska Forum_ and _Rampart Sun_. Thecirculation of these journals was not disclosed to the writer, who was, however, gravely interviewed by the editors of both publications. Justbefore leaving Rampart City news of the postponement of the coronationof his Majesty King Edward VII. On account of serious illness, reachedus, and it was gratifying to note the respectful sympathy for the Queenof England displayed by the American inhabitants of this remote Alaskansettlement. 

Four days after this the hideous Yukon flats were reached, a vast desertof swamp and sand dunes, through which the great river diffuses itself, like a sky-rocket, into hundreds of lesser streams, lakes, and aqueousblind alleys, which severely taxed the skill and patience of ourskipper. Here the outlook was even more depressing than on the drearyLena. Before reaching Circle City the Yukon attains its most northerlypoint and then descends in a south-easterly direction for the remainderof its course. At the bend it is joined by the Porcupine River; and hereis Fort Yukon, once an important trading coast of the Hudson BayCompany, but now an overgrown clearing in the forest, of which a fewmiserable Indians in grimy tents disputed the possession with denseclouds of mosquitoes. But even the appearance of Circle City, [74] once aprosperous mining town and now a collection of ruined log-huts, washailed with delight by the hopelessly bored passengers in the _Hannah_, for it meant the end of another stage in this wearisome journey. 

[Footnote 74: In 1901 the diggings around Circle City produced about£30, 000. ]

There is nothing exciting or even picturesque about a modern Alaskanmining camp. Bowlers and loud checks have superseded the red flannelshirt and sombrero, and while missions and libraries abound, Judge Lynchand the crack of a six-shooter are almost unknown in these townships, the conventional security of which would certainly have amazed anddisgusted the late Bret Harte. When last I travelled down the Yukon, Circle City (now called Silent City) was known as the "Paris of Alaska, "and there was certainly more gaiety, or rather life, of a tawdry, disreputable kind here than at Forty Mile, the only other settlement ofany size on the river, for Klondike was not then in existence. CircleCity could then boast of two theatres, a so-called music hall, andseveral gambling and dancing saloons, which, together with other dens ofa worse description, were now silent heaps of grass-grown timber. Inthose days the dancing rooms were crowded nightly, and I once attended aball here in a low, stuffy apartment, festooned with flags, with adrinking bar at one end. The orchestra consisted of a violin and guitar, the music being almost drowned by a noisy crowd at the bar, where awrangle took place on an average every five minutes. One dollar wascharged by the saloon-keeper for the privilege of a dance with a gailypainted lady (of a class with which most mining camps are only toofamiliar), who received twenty-five cents as her share of thetransaction. The guests numbered about sixty, and about a third thatnumber of dogs which had strayed in through the open doorway. When anattendant (in shirt-sleeves) proceeded to walk round and sprinkle therough boards with resin, the dancers fairly yelled with delight, for ahungry cur closely followed him, greedily devouring the stuff as itfell! But although in those days the Yukon gold-digger was as tough acustomer as ever rocked a cradle in the wildest days of Colorado, therewas a rough and friendly _bonhomie_ amongst the inhabitants of CircleCity which is now lacking in the Klondike metropolis. 

Between Rampart and Circle Cities we experienced an annoyance almost asgreat as that caused by the mosquitoes, in the shape of clouds ofpungent smoke caused by forest fires. In these densely wooded regions asmouldering match dropped by a careless miner often sets hundreds ofsquare miles of timber ablaze. As the natives are also constantlyclearing and burning the woods for cultivation, the air was seldomentirely clear, and often so thick as to cause irritation in the eyes, especially after suffering, as most of us had, from snow blindness andincipient ophthalmia. On still, sultry days the pain resulting fromsmoke and the glare off the river was almost as severe as that which Ihad experienced in the Arctic. Mosquitoes now attacked us in myriads, and the heat was insupportable, but the cooler air of the upper deck wasrendered unattainable by showers of sparks which constantly issued fromthe funnels of the hard-driven _Hannah_. 

At Eagle City, consisting of about thirty log-huts, we reached for thefirst time the end of a telegraph wire, [75] and I was able to cable homethe safe arrival in Alaska of the Expedition; and none too soon, for thetotal loss of the latter had already been reported in London. How thisbaseless rumour was spread remains a mystery, but fortunately the wireannouncing our safety was published in the London newspapers only threedays after the public had read of a probable disaster. Eagle City, although even smaller than Rampart, also boasted of a newspaper, theenterprising owner of which made me a tempting offer for the tiny silkbanner which had shared our fortunes all the way from France. But "theflag which braved a thousand years" was not for sale, and it now adornsthe walls of the author's smoking-room, the only Union Jack which, sofar as I know, has safety accomplished the journey from Paris to NewYork by land. 

[Footnote 75: This has since been extended and telegraphic messages maynow be sent through from Europe to Nome City. ]

Above Eagle City the journey was rendered even more weary by frequentstoppages. Once we tugged for twenty-four hours at a stranded steamer, and finally got her off a sand-bank at considerable risk to ourselves. Every hundred miles or so the _Hannah_ would tie up to take in fuel atsome wood-cutter's shanty, where the cool, green forest, with itsflowers and ferns, looked inviting from the deck, but to land amongstthem was to be devoured by clouds of ferocious mosquitoes. De Clinchampwas the happiest being on board, for his days were passed in developingthe hundreds of photographs taken since our departure from Yakutsk; andStepan was perhaps the most forlorn, amongst strangers unacquainted withhis language. The poor fellow had been as gay as a cricket amidst thedangers of the Arctic, but here he was as timid as a lost child, gazinghour by hour into the water, smoking endless cigarettes, and thinking, perhaps, of his wife and little "Isba" in now distant Siberia. 

On July 15 we passed the boundary into British North-west territory, andshortly afterwards hailed the British flag fluttering from the barracksat Forty Mile City as an old and long-lost friend. This was the chieftown of the Upper Yukon in the palmy days of the Hudson Bay Company whenfurs rather than gold were the attraction to these gloomy regions. In1896 this was the highest point reached by the larger river-boats, andhere, on that occasion, we left the tiny skiff in which we had travelledfor over a month on the great lakes, and boarded the steamer for St. Michael. Forty Mile then consisted of eighty or ninety log-huts on a mudbank, where numerous tree-stumps, wood-shavings, empty tins, and otherrubbish littered the ground amongst the houses, adding to the generalappearance of dirt and neglect. But now several neat, new buildings havearisen from the ashes of the old; streets have been laid out withregularity; and a trim fort is occupied by a khaki-clad detachment ofthe North-west Mounted Police. Forty Mile is more of a military postthan anything else, most of its prospectors having left the place forthe Klondike, although a few years back this was the chief rendezvous ofYukon pioneers. These, however, were mostly "grub-stakers, " quitecontent if enough gold-dust was forthcoming to keep the wolf from thedoor. In those days a nugget of any size was a rarity, and fortunes weremade here, not by the miner, but by those who fed and clothed him. Forinstance, in 1886 Forty Mile Creek yielded less than £30, 000, but atthis time the total number of prospectors in the entire territory of theUpper Yukon was under 250, and very few of these who could avoid itwintered in the country. 

At last, on the thirteenth day, we neared our destination. "It seems amonth since we left St. Michael, " says the confidence-man as for thelast time we watch the pine forest darken and the great river fade intoa silvery grey in the twilight. From the brightly lit saloon come thetinkle of a piano and the clear notes of Mrs. Z. 's voice. Her patheticlittle melody is familiar to the wanderer in every lonely land:

 "All the world am sad and dreary Everywhere I roam!"

But, fortunately for us, the Yukon, like the Suwanee River, must have anending, and I am awakened early next morning to find the _Hannah_ mooredalongside a busy wharf at Dawson City. 

CHAPTER XVII

DAWSON

"The Yukon district is a vast tract of country which forms the extremenorth-westerly portion of the north-west territories of Canada. It isbounded to the south by the northern line of British Columbia, to thewest by the eastern line of the United States territory of Alaska, tothe east by the Rocky Mountains, and to the north by the Arctic Ocean. The district has an area of 192, 000 square miles, or about the size ofFrance. The region, as a whole, is mountainous in character, but itcomprises as well an area of merely hilly or gently undulating country, besides many wide and flat bottomed valleys. It is more mountainous inthe south-east and subsides generally and uniformly to thenorth-westward, the mountains becoming more isolated and separated bybroader tracts of low land. The Yukon or Pelly River provides the maindrainage of this region, passing from Canadian into American territoryat a point in its course 1600 miles from the sea. The two hundred milesof its course in Canada receives the waters of all the most important ofits tributaries--the Stewart, Macmillan, Upper Pelly, Lewes, WhiteRiver, &c. , each with an extensive subsidiary river system, whichspreading out like a fan towards the north-east, east, and south-eastfacilitate access into the interior. " So writes my friend Mr. Ogilvie, the Dominion Surveyor, who has an experience of over twenty years ofthis country and who is probably better acquainted with its naturalcharacteristics and resources than any other living white man. 

On the occasion of my last attempt to travel overland from New York toParis the spot upon which Dawson City now stands was occupied by perhapsa dozen Indian wigwams. [76] The current was so strong that we onlylanded from our skiff with difficulty and the timely assistance of somenatives in birch bark canoes, the first of these graceful but ricketycraft we had yet encountered. Just below the village a small river flowsinto the Yukon from the east, and the water looked so clear and purethat we filled our barrels, little dreaming that in a few months thisapparently insignificant stream would be the talk of the civilisedworld. For this was the Thron-diuck, [77] a word eventually corruptedinto "Klondike" by the jargon of many nationalities. Then we visited thevillage, in search of food; finding in one hut some salmon, in another apiece of moose meat, both of venerable exterior. Most of the braves ofthe tribe were away hunting or fishing, but the old men and maidens wereeager for news from up river, the sole topic of interest being, not thefinding of nuggets, but the catching of fish. Strange as it may seem thename of Klondike is to this day associated in my mind withcomparatively clean Indians and a good square meal. But hardly a yearhad elapsed before I discovered that on that quiet, sunlit evening, Iwas carelessly strolling about over millions of money without beingaware of the fact. 

[Footnote 76: Dawson City is named after Dr. Dawson who firstestablished the boundary between Alaska and British north-westterritory. ]

[Footnote 77: An Indian word signifying "Plenty of fish. " On old mapsthe place is marked "Tondack. "]

Dawson City stands on the right bank of the Yukon on a plain almostsurrounded by picturesque and partly wooded hills. There are townsexisting much further north than this notwithstanding all that has beenwritten to the contrary. Many a cheap tripper from Aberdeen or Newcastlehas been a good deal nearer the Pole, so far as actual latitude isconcerned, for Dawson is south of the Norwegian towns of Hammerfest andTromsö; Archangel--on the White Sea--being situated on about the samelatitude as the Klondike metropolis. The latter was founded shortlyafter the first discovery of gold in 1896, and a few months afterwardsseven or eight thousand people were living there in tents and log huts. In 1898 a fire occurred and the whole town was rebuilt on morebusiness-like lines, buildings, streets, and squares being laid out withregularity. The fire had not been wholly disastrous, for before itsoccurrence typhoid fever was raging amongst the miners, chiefly onaccount of improper food, impure water, and the miasma arising from themarshy, undrained soil. But when the town was restored, these evils wereremedied, and, at the present day, Dawson contains about 30, 000inhabitants (probably more in summer), who, save for a rigorous winter, live under much the same conditions as the dweller in any civilised cityof England or America. Out on the creeks, the life is still rough andprimitive, but all the luxuries of life are obtainable in town, that isif you can afford to pay for them, for prices here are, at present, ruinous. This is chiefly due to the almost prohibitive tariff imposedupon everything, from machinery to cigars, by the Canadian Government. During our stay much discontent also prevailed in consequence of thevexatious gold-mining regulations which had lately come into operationand which had already compelled many owners of valuable claims to sellthem at a loss and quit the country. An Englishman residing here told methat so long as the present mining laws exist prospectors will do wellto avoid Canadian territory, and this I could well believe, for while wewere there, Dawson was, on this account, in a ferment of excitementwhich threatened shortly to blaze into open rebellion unless the tensionwas removed. 

The natural charms of Dawson have hitherto been sadly neglected bywriters on Klondike, and yet it is in summer one of the prettiest placesimaginable. Viewed from a distance on a still July day, the clean brightlooking town and garden-girt villas dotting the green hills around aremore suggestive of a tropical country than of a bleak Arctic land. Aninteresting landmark is the mighty landslip of rock and rubble whichdefaces the side of a steep cliff overlooking the city, for thisavalanche of earth is said to have entombed some fifty or sixty Indiansmany years ago, and is of course therefore, according to localtradition, haunted. Notwithstanding its remoteness Dawson may almost becalled a gay place. Stroll down the principal street at mid-day and youwill find a well-dressed crowd of both sexes, some driving and cycling, others inspecting the shops or seated at flower-bedecked tables in thefashionable French "Restaurant du Louvre" with its white aproned_garçons_ and central snowy altar of silver, fruit, and _hors-d'œuvres_all complete. Everything has a continental look, from the glitteringjewellers' shops to the flower and fruit stalls, where you may buy rosesor strawberries for a dollar apiece. I recollect discussing a meal ofsomewhat rusty bacon and beans (or Alaska strawberries as they were thencalled) when we landed for the first time amongst the Indians ofThron-diuck, and it seemed like some weird dream when one sultryafternoon during my recent stay I was invited by a party of smartlydressed ladies to partake of ices in a gilded _café_ with red-stripedsun-blinds on the very same spot. But you can now get almost anythinghere by paying for it, on a scale regulated by the local dailynewspapers, which are sold for a shilling and sometimes more. Even inthe cheaper eating-houses, where sausages steam in the window, the mostfrugal meal runs away with a five dollar note, while at the Regina Hotel(by no means a first-class establishment) the price charged for the mostmodest bedroom would have secured a sumptuous apartment at the Ritzpalaces in Pall Mall or the Place Vendôme! On the day of our arrival Ithought a bar-tender was joking when he charged me three dollars for apint of very ordinary "Medoc, " but quickly discovered that the man wasin sober earnest. Nevertheless, only big prices are to be expected in aregion almost inaccessible ten years ago. And what a change there issince those days. In 1896 it took us two months to reach Thron-diuckfrom the coast, and on the last occasion I received a reply from Londonto a cable within seven hours! This new era of progress andenlightenment seemed to have scared the insect creation, for, in 1896, "smudges" were lit here to drive away the clouds of mosquitoes whichmingled with our very food; and now not a gnat was to be seen in Dawson, although the creeks around were said to be alive with them. 

This is essentially a cosmopolitan city, and you may hear almost everyknown language, from Patagonian to Chinese, talked in its streets. "First Avenue, " about a mile long and fronting the river, is the finestthoroughfare, and the high-sounding title is not incongruous, forseveral handsome stone buildings now grace this street which in a fewyears will doubtless be worthy of Seattle or San Francisco. One side ofthe road is lined by busy wharves, with numberless steamers ever on themove, the other by shops of every description, restaurants, and gorgeousdrinking-saloons. A stranger here cannot fail to be struck with theincongruity with which wealth and squalor are blended. Here a daintyrestaurant is elbowed by a cheap American _gargote_, there a plate-glasswindow blazing with diamonds seems to shrink from a neighbouringemporium stocked with second-hand wearing apparel. Even the exclusiveZero Club with its bow window generally crowded with fashionableloungers, is contaminated by the proximity of a shabby drinking-bar, which, however, does not impair the excellence of its internalarrangements, as the writer can testify. For a Lucullian repast, ofwhich I was invited to partake at this hospitable resort of good fellowsof all nationalities, yet lingers in my memory!

But hospitality seems ingrained in the nature of the Klondiker high orlow, and during its short stay here the Expedition was regally receivedand entertained. A wood-cut, which appeared in the principal newspaperrepresenting "Dawson City extending the glad hand of welcome to ExplorerDe Windt" was no mere figure of speech, for we were seldom allowed topay for a meal, while the refreshments and cigars lavished upon me bytotal strangers at every moment of the day would have set up aregimental mess. My host here was the manager of the "Alaska CommercialCompany, " which has practically ruled the country from the year of itsannexation, and without whose assistance I should often have fared badlyduring my travels in the interior. Mr. Mizner, the agent, occupied oneof the newest and finest houses in Dawson, but I was awakened the firstnight by a sound suggestive of a spirited wrestling bout in an adjoiningapartment. The noise continued almost without cessation, and only ceasedwhen the business of the day recommenced in the streets. Then themystery was explained; my imaginary wrestlers were rats, which are not, I believe, indigenous to Alaska. Originally brought to St. Michaelduring the gold rush by an old and patched-up barque from San Francisco, the enterprising rodents boarded a river steamer and landed here, whereconditions appear especially favourable to their reproduction. Scarcelya house in the place was free from them, and at night, or ratherthrough its twilight hours, the streets swarmed with the disgustingbrutes who seemed to regard human beings with supreme indifference. Fromlatest advices this annoyance still exists and a fortune thereforeawaits a good London rat-catcher in Dawson. 

Dissipation used to reign here supreme as it does to-day at Nome, butthe Canadian authorities have now placed a heavy heel upongambling-saloons, dancing-halls, and similar establishments. Andalthough the closing of these places has caused much dissatisfactionamongst those who profited by them, the measure has undoubtedly been forthe general good of the community. Many a poor miner has come in fromthe creeks with gold-dust galore, the result of many months of hard workand privation, and found himself penniless after a single night passedamongst the saloons, dives, and dens of an even worse description whichformerly flourished here. In those days the place swarmed with women ofthe lowest class, the very sweepings of San Francisco, and with themcame such a train of thieves and bullies that finally the law wascompelled to step in and prevent a further influx of this undesirableelement. Dawson is now as quiet and orderly as it was once the opposite, for ladies unable to prove their respectability are compelled to residein a distant suburb bearing the euphonious name of Louse-Town. Thisplace is probably unique, at any rate amongst civilised nations, although the Japanese Yoshiwara, outside Tokio, where every dwelling isone of ill-fame, is, although, much larger, almost its exact prototype. 

Crime in and about Dawson is now rare thanks to that fine body of men, the North-west Mounted Police. Piccadilly is no safer than the streetshere, which, during the dark winter months, blaze with electricity. TheIrish ruffian, George O'Brien, who, a couple of years ago, built ashanty in a lonely spot and robbed and murdered many prospectors, wasarrested and hanged with a celerity which has since deterred other evildoers. For the system of police surveillance here is almost as strict asin Russia, and although passports are not required the compulsoryregistration of every traveller at the hotels and road houses answersmuch the same purpose. 

Although rowdy revelry is discountenanced by the authorities Dawson Citycan be gay enough both in summer and winter. In the open season there ishorse-racing along First Avenue, where notwithstanding the rough andstony course and deplorable "crocks" engaged, large sums of money changehands. There are also picnics and A.  B. Floaters, or water partiesorganised by a Society known as the "Arctic Brotherhood, " who charter asteamer once a week for a trip up or down river, which is made theoccasion for dancing and other festivities entailing the consumption ofmuch champagne. At this season there is also excellent fishing in theYukon and its tributaries, where salmon, grayling, and trout areplentiful. The first named run to an enormous weight, but are muchcoarser and less delicate in flavour than the European fish. The Fourthof July is a day of general rejoicing, for there are probably as many, if not more, Americans than Canadians here. There is good rough shootingwithin easy distance of Dawson, and the sporting fraternityoccasionally witnesses a prize fight, when Frank Slavin (who owns anhotel here) occasionally displays his skill. 

The history of the Klondike gold-fields has so often been told that Ishall not weary the reader by going over old ground: how George Cormackmade his lucky strike on Bonanza Creek, taking out £240 of gold in acouple of days from a spot which, with proper appliances, would haveyielded £1000, or how the steamship _Excelsior_ arrived in San Franciscoone July day in 1897 with half a million dollars and thirty old timerswhose tales of a land gorged with gold were almost universallydiscredited. But these were confirmed by the arrival of the _Portland_ afew days later with over a million dollars' worth of dust stowed away inoil cans, jam-tins, and even wrapped in old newspapers, so desolate andprimitive was the region from whence it came. [78] Then, as every oneknows, the news was flashed over the world and was followed by astampede the like of which had not been witnessed since the days of '49. Unfortunately, the simple and primitive way in which the gold was gainedseemed suggestive of a poor man's "El Dorado, " and consequently many ofthose who went into the Klondike with the first batch of gold seekerswere small tradesmen, railway officials, clerks, and others, whosesedentary occupation had rendered them quite unfit for a life of periland privation in the frozen north. The tragic experiences of these firstpilgrims to the land of gold are probably still fresh in the mind of thereader--the deaths by cold and hunger on the dreaded Chilkoot Pass, orby drowning in the stormy lakes and treacherous rapids of the Yukon. Thedeath list during the rush of 1897 will long be remembered in DawsonCity, for many of those who survived the dangers of the road werestricken down on arrival by typhoid fever, which allied to famine, claimed, in those days, a terrible percentage of victims. And yet if therisks were great, the rewards were greater for those blessed with youth, perseverance and, above all, a hardy constitution. Perhaps the mostnotable case of success in the early days was that of Clarence Berry(then known as the "Barnato of the Klondike"). When Berry leftCalifornia his capital consisted of £20 which enabled him to reach thescene of operations and to take £26, 000 out of the ground within sixmonths of his departure from home. Mrs. Berry, who pluckily joined herhusband at Dawson, is said to have lifted no less than £10, 000 from herhusband's claims in her spare moments. About this period many othervaluable discoveries took place and amongst them may be mentionedMacDonald's claim on "El Dorado" which yielded £19, 000 in twenty-eightdays, Leggatt's claims on the same creek which in eight months produced£8400 from a space only twenty-four square feet, and Ladue, a Klondikepioneer, who for seven consecutive days took £360 from one claim andfollowed his good fortune with such pluck and persistency that he is nowa millionaire. Of other authentic cases I may mention that of a SanFrancisco man and his wife who were able to secure only one claim whichto their joy and surprise yielded £27, 000, and that of a stoker on boarda Yukon river boat who in 1896 was earning £10 a month and who, thefollowing summer, was worth his £30, 000!

[Footnote 78: In view of the eventual development of this region it isinteresting to note Mr. Ogilvie's report of his explorations in 1887which runs thus:

"The Thron-diuck river enters the Yukon from the east, it is a smallstream about forty yards wide at the mouth and shallow; the water isclear and transparent and of a beautiful blue colour, the Indians catchgreat numbers of salmon here. A miner had prospected up this river foran estimated distance of forty miles in the season of 1887. I did notsee him. "]

But the foregoing are only individual cases which have come under mypersonal notice. There were, of course, innumerable others, for it was acommon thing in those days for a man to return to California after ayear's absence with from £5000 to £10, 000 in his pocket. Take, forinstance, the case of the lucky bar-tender of Forty Mile City who joinedthe general exodus from that place which followed Cormack's firstdiscovery. This man came out of the country with $132, 000 in gold dustwhich he had taken out of his stake, and after purchasing an adjoiningclaim for another $100, 000 (all taken from his original claim), it issaid (though I cannot vouch for this statement) that the fortunatecock-tail mixer eventually sold his property to a New York Syndicate for£400, 000. Of course at this time fairy tales were pretty freelycirculated; how, for instance, one man with very long whiskers had beenworking hard in his drift all through the winter and, as was the custom, neither washed nor shaved. In the spring when the whiskers were shavedoff his partner is said to have secured them, washed them out in a pan, and collected $27 as the result! This is of course absurd, but facts inthose days concerning discoveries were so marvellous that they wereeasily confused with fiction. Thus Mr. Ogilvie, the Dominion Surveyorand a personal friend of mine, told me that he went into one of therichest claims one day and asked to be allowed to wash out a panful ofgold. The pay streak was very rich but standing at the bottom of theshaft, and looking at it by the light of a candle, all that could beseen was a yellowish looking dirt with here and there the sparkle of alittle gold. Ogilvie took out a big panful and started to wash it out, while several miners stood around betting as to the result. Five hundreddollars was the highest estimate, but when the gold was weighed it cameto a little over $590, or nearly £120. This I can vouch for as a fact. 

A coach runs daily out from Dawson to the diggings about fifteen milesaway, but although the famous Bonanza and El Dorado Creeks are stillworth a visit, [79] I fancy the good old days are over here when fortuneswere made in a week and saloon keepers reaped a comfortable income bysweeping up spilt gold dust every morning. Klondike is no longer aregion of giant nuggets and fabulous finds, for every inch of likelyground has been prospected over and over again. Nevertheless many of thecreeks are doing well, notably that of "Last Chance, " which may eveneclipse El Dorado when machinery has been brought to bear. Almost anyclaim on "Last Chance" is now a sound investment, but this was aboutthe only creek which, during our stay, was attracting any seriousattention from outside. 

[Footnote 79: Professor Angelo Heilprin has reported that El Dorado andBonanza gold generally assays but about $15. 50 or $15. 80 to the ounce. Dominion gold shows as high as $17. 80, while the gold of Bear Creek, aminor tributary of the Klondike, is reported to give $19. 20 to theounce. ]

It is probably unnecessary to explain that, with one or two exceptions, the gold in Alaska is obtained by placer-mining. This consists simply inmaking a shaft to bedrock[80] and then tunnelling in various directions. The pay dirt is hauled out by a small hand-windlass and piled up untilit is washed out. I am indebted to my friend Mr. Joseph Ladue, for thefollowing description of the various processes which follow excavation. 

[Footnote 80: The depth to bedrock varies from fourteen to twenty feet. ]

"The miner lifts a little of the finer gravel or sand in his pan. Hethen fills the latter with water and gives it a few rapid whirls andshakes. This tends to bring the gold to the bottom on account of itsgreater specific gravity. The pan is then held and shaken in such a waythat the sand and gravel are gradually washed out, care being taken asthe process nears completion, to avoid letting out the finer and heavierparts that have settled to the bottom. Finally all that is left in thepan is gold and some black sand, which is generally pulverised magneticiron-ore. Should the gold thus found be fine, the contents of the panare thrown into a barrel containing water and a pound or two of mercury. As soon as the gold comes in contact with the mercury it combines withit and forms an amalgam. The process is continued until enough amalgamhas been formed to pay for roasting or firing. 

"It is then squeezed through a buckskin bag, all the mercury that comesthrough the bag being put into the barrel to serve again, and whatremains in the bag is placed in a retort, if the miner has one, or ifnot, on a shovel, and heated until nearly all the mercury is vaporised. The gold then remains in a lump with some mercury still held incombination with it. 

"This is called the 'pan, ' or 'hand-method, ' which is only employed whenit is impossible to procure a rocker or to make and work sluices. 

"The latter is the best method of placer-mining, but it requires a goodsupply of water with sufficient head or falls. The process is asfollows: Planks are secured and made into a box of suitable depth andwidth. Slats are fixed across the bottom of the box at intervals, orholes bored in the bottom in such a way as to preclude the escape of anyparticle of gold. Several of these boxes are then set up with aconsiderable slope, and are fitted into one another at the ends like astove pipe. A stream of water is then thrown into the upper end of thehighest box, the dirt being shovelled in and washed downwards, at thesame time. The gold is detained by its weight, and is held by the slatsor in the holes aforementioned. If it be fine, mercury is placed behindthe slats or in these holes to catch it. After the boxes are done withthey are burnt and the ashes washed for the gold held in the wood. "

These methods seem simple enough and, no doubt, would be in moretemperate regions, but the mines of the Yukon are of a class bythemselves, and the rigorous climate here necessitates entirely newmethods for getting the gold. It was formerly considered impossible towork after the month of September, but experience has now conclusivelyproved that much may be accomplished during the winter months. Theworking year is therefore three times as long as it used to be, and thetime formerly wasted in idleness is now profitably employed. Thedifficulty of winter mining is, of course, enormously increased by thefact that the ground is frozen. Every foot of it must be thawed, eitherin sinking or drifting, by small fires. The shallower mines are workedduring the summer in the open air, but when the gravel is more than sixfeet deep a shaft is sunk, and dirt enough removed to allow space towork in. Thus the gold seeker with a log hut close to the mouth of hisshaft and provided with plenty of food and fuel may pass a whole winterin comparative comfort. About a ton of dead ground can be dumped daily, and a few hundred pounds of pay gravel. The latter is piled up until thespring when the thaw comes. It is then "panned" or "rocked" withoutdifficulty, for here, unlike Western Australia, there is no lack ofwater. [81]

[Footnote 81: For further particulars anent gold-mining in the Klondike, see "Through the Gold Fields of Alaska, " by Harry de Windt. ]

Steam power has now supplanted these more or less primitive methods onthe most important claims, but here again the enormous duty levied bythe Canadian Government on machinery of all kinds, was, while we were atDawson, causing universal indignation. A single visit to the creekssufficed for me, for although Dawson was free from mosquitoes, thediggings swarmed with them. And, talking of mosquitoes, no oneunacquainted with Alaska can be aware of the almost unbearable sufferingwhich they are capable of inflicting upon mankind. Brehm, the famousnaturalist, has furnished about the best description of a lucklessprospector caught in the toils. "Before a man knows, " says theprofessor, "he is covered from head to foot with a dense swarm, blackening grey cloths and giving dark ones a strange spottedappearance. They creep to the unprotected face and neck, the bare hands, and stockinged feet, slowly sink their sting into the skin, and pour theirritant poison into the wound. Furiously the victim beats theblood-sucker to a pulp, but while he does so, five, ten, twenty othergnats fasten on his face and hands. The favourite points of attack arethe temples, the neck, and the wrist, also the back of the head, for thethickest hair is of no protection. Although the naturalist knows that itis only the female mosquitoes which suck blood, and that their activityin this respect is connected with reproduction and is probably necessaryto the ripening of the fertilised eggs, yet even he is finally overcomeby the torture caused by these demons, though he be the most equablephilosopher under the sun. It is not the pain caused by the sting, orstill more by the resulting swelling; it is the continual annoyance, theeverlastingly recurring discomfort under which one suffers. One canendure the pain of the sting without complaint at first, but sooner orlater every man is bound to confess himself conquered, and allresistance is gradually paralysed by the innumerable omnipresent armiesalways ready for combat. "

Although the climate of Dawson is naturally severe a man may live withproper precautions through a dozen winters comfortably enough inAlaska. Many people are under the impression that the winters here areof Cimmerian darkness, with no daylight for weeks at a time, whereas, even on the shortest day of December, there are still two hours ofsunlight. 75° F. Below zero is about the coldest yet experienced, butthis is very rare, and here, unlike Canada, there is seldom the windwhich makes even 20° below almost unbearable. Winter generally commencesin October, but often much earlier, and the Yukon is generally clear ofice by the beginning of June. The snowfall is not excessive, three feetbeing considered deep. In summer the temperature often exceeds 90° F. But the nights are always cool and pleasant. 

The Klondike district had, up to the time of the great gold strike, borne the reputation of being an arid ice-bound waste, incapable ofproducing anything more nutritious than trees, coarse grass, and theberries peculiar to sub-Arctic regions. On the occasion of my firststroll down First Avenue I was scarcely surprised to find all kinds offruit and vegetables exposed for sale, the transit now being so rapidlyaccomplished (in summer) from California. But ocular proof was needed toconvince me that potatoes, radishes, lettuce, cucumbers, indeed almostevery known vegetable, is now grown around Dawson and on the oppositeside of the river. Strawberries and nectarines (Klondike-grown) wereserved at the restaurants, of course at stupendous prices, as hundredsof acres of glass and costly artificial heat had been needed for theirproduction. Hot-house flowers are now grown here and also sold at aruinous cost, but the lucky prospector will cheerfully part with $5 fora rose, or five times the amount for a puny gardenia, and some of themarket gardens around Dawson are almost as profitable as a fairly richclaim. High prices here even extended to the commonest furs judging fromthe price I obtained for a tattered deerskin coat which had cost me onlyeighty roubles at Moscow. But although the garment was now almostunpresentable I sold it to a bar-tender for its original price, andheard, on the same evening, that it had again been disposed of to a"Chechako" from up country for over $200!

Klondike is generally associated in the public mind with intense cold. We suffered from a perpetual and stifling heat which necessitated thewearing of tropical tweeds, a sartorial luxury here where a summersuiting costs about six times as much as in Savile Row. Once there was asharp thunderstorm and the rain came down in sheets, somewhat coolingthe atmosphere, but only for a short time, for when the sky cleared adense mist arose from the swampy ground, and the air became as heavy andoppressive as I have known it during the hottest season of the year inCentral Borneo. But the nights were always cool and delicious, and thesemoreover were now gradually darkening, an ineffable blessing which canonly be duly appreciated by those who have experienced the miseries ofeternal day. The English tourist who in July races northwards in the"Argonaut" to behold the midnight sun should pass a summer or two inNorthern Alaska. He would never wish to see it again!

CHAPTER XVIII

THE UPPER YUKON AND LEWES RIVERS. THE WHITE PASS RAILWAY. 

The steamer _White Horse_, in which we travelled from Dawson City up theYukon to the terminus of the White Pass Railway was, although muchsmaller than the _Hannah_, quite as luxuriously fitted as that palatialriver boat. There is now, in the open season, daily communicationbetween Dawson and the coast, and the journey to Vancouver may now beaccomplished under six days. In winter-time closed and comfortablesleighs, drawn by horses, convey the traveller to rail-head. There arepost-houses with good accommodation every twenty miles or so, and thistrip, once so replete with hardships, may now be undertaken at any timeof the year by the most inexperienced traveller. In a couple of yearsthe Alaskan line from Skagway will probably have been extended as far asDawson City, which will then be within easy reach of all civilisedcentres. 

The three days' journey on the Upper Yukon (or rather Yukon and Lewes, for above its junction with the Pelly River the Yukon is known by thelatter name), was not devoid of enjoyment, for the scenery here is asmountainous and picturesque as that of the lower river is flat anddreary. Settlements are more numerous, and the trip is not withoutinterest, and even a spice of danger when the rapids are reached. Thelast of these down stream, although insignificant when compared with theperilous falls up river, are sufficiently swift and voluminous to causeconsiderable anxiety to a nervous mind. The five granite pillars whichhere span the Yukon, at intervals of a few feet, from shore to shore, are known as the "Five Fingers, " and here the steamer must be hauled upthe falls through a narrow passage blasted out of a submerged rock. Asteel hawser attached to a windlass above the falls is used to tow thevessel up the watery incline, and were the cable to snap, a frightfuldisaster would certainly ensue. At this spot, the billows and surfraging madly round our tiny craft, the dark, jagged rocks threateningher on every side, and the deafening roar of foam and breakers were anovel experience which some of our passengers would apparently havecheerfully dispensed with. There was an awkward moment when the cablegot foul of a snag, and the _White Horse_ swerved round and laybroadside to the torrent, which for several minutes heeled her over at avery uncomfortable angle. "Something will happen here some day, " coollyremarked the pilot, a long, lanky New Englander, lighting a freshcigarette, and viewing the wild excitement of men afloat and ashore withlazy interest, and although, on this occasion, we escaped a catastrophe, and got off easily with shattered bulwarks, I have no doubt he wasright. Going down stream steamers shoot these rapids, which entails aconsiderable amount of coolness and courage on the part of thesteersman, for the slightest mistake would send the vessel crashing intothe rocks on either side of the narrow passage. 

Six years ago the rapids of the Yukon formed one of the most seriousobstacles to Alaskan travel, and I retain a vivid recollection of the"Grand Cañon" and "White Horse" rapids during our journey through thecountry in 1896. These falls are beyond Lake Le Barge, and about twohundred miles above Five Fingers. At first sight of the Grand Cañon Iwondered, not that accidents often took place there, but that any oneever ran it in safety, for the force of the current through the dark, narrow gorge is so tremendous that the stream is forced to a crest aboutfour feet high, like a sloping roof, in the centre of the river. It isessential to keep on the summit of this crest, or be instantly dashed topieces on the rocks. The strongest swimmer would stand no chance here, and no man who has ever got in has lived to relate his experiences. TheGrand Cañon is nearly a mile in length, but our boat ran through it inless than two minutes. 

The first plunge into the White Horse Rapid, only a few miles below theGrand Cañon, is even more abrupt and dangerous than that into thelatter, and here the water dashes down with an appalling roar. Thefoaming crest of the wave, following the first downward sweep, issupposed to resemble a white horse's mane, which circumstance christenedthe fall. The latter was also formerly known as the "Miner's Grave, "which, seeing that at one time a yearly average of twenty men weredrowned here, seems a more suitable title. But these death-traps arenow happily perils of the past, both being now avoided by the new railand steamboat route into the Klondike. 

Shortly after negotiating Five Fingers, we passed the mouth of theNordenskiold River, which enters the Yukon from the west. This is aninsignificant stream, although coal has lately been discovered in itsvicinity, a fact which may shortly lower the now outrageous price ofthat commodity in Dawson. Above this the river widens, and occasionallyexpands into a series of lakes, studded with prettily wooded islands, perfect gardens of wild flowers, but fruitful breeding-places of ourimplacable foes, the mosquitoes. A few hours of this, and the rivernarrows again, and is fringed by low banks of sand and limestone, riddled by millions of martin's nests, while inshore a vista of darkpine forests and grassy, undulating hills stretches away to a chain ofgranite peaks, still streaked in places with the winter snow. Towardsevening we tie up for fuel at the mouth of the Hootalinqua River, whichdrains Lake Teslin, the largest in the Yukon basin. The mountains at thehead of Teslin form part of the now well-known Cassiar range, where therich mines of that name are worked. On board were two prospectors whohad passed several months in the Hootalinqua district, and who predictedthat its mineral wealth would one day surpass that of Bonanza and ElDorado. But this I am inclined to doubt, as the river was apparentlylittle frequented, and my friends, although so sanguine of its brightfuture, were leaving the country for British Columbia. So far as Icould ascertain, throughout the journey up the Yukon, the immediateneighbourhood of Dawson City is about the only district in theNorth-west Province where a prospector may hope to meet with anythinglike success. When this country is opened up, things will, no doubt, bevery different, and new fields of wealth will await the gold-seeker, butthe cold fact remains that at present there is no indication whateverthat such fields exist, outside of Nome and the Klondike, with oneexception. I know Alaska far too well to advise any one to go there whocan possibly find any other outlet for his energy and capital, but ifany man is bent on staking his all, or part of it, in this country, thenlet him try the Copper River district, which up till now is practicallyunknown to the outside world. Mr. J.  E. Bennett, of Newcastle, Colo. , apassenger on the _White Horse_, showed me a nugget worth fifty poundswhich he had picked out of a stream there the previous year. He is nowin the district in question prospecting, and from his last advices hadstruck indications of very rich ground. Many have been scared away fromthis part of Alaska by reports of dangerous natives, but although theIndians here were formerly ugly customers, there is now little to fearon that score. There are very few people there as yet, and it is a poorman's country with boundless possibilities, one great advantage beingthat its chief sea-port is open to navigation all the year round. At thenewly built town of Valdes on the coast, stores of all kinds can bepurchased at reasonable prices, the place being easy of access. I shouldadd that the Copper River and its affluents are in American territory, and that it is therefore exempt from the now vexatious mining laws ofCanada. [82]

[Footnote 82: Ocean steamers landing at Orca station, in Prince WilliamSound, give miners the chance of reaching Copper River, by a 30-miletrail over Valdes Pass, at a point above the Miles Glacier and the otherdangerous stretches near the mouth of that stream. Rich placer-regionshave been found along the Tonsino Creek, which empties into Copper Riverabout 100 miles from the sea. The route up the Copper River across a lowdivide to the Tanana and down that stream was explored and firstfollowed by Lieutenant Allen, U. S. A. , in 1885. ]

Should any of my readers decide to take a prospecting trip to this newlydiscovered northern El Dorado, it may not be out of place to furnish adescription of the kind of outfit required for a year's residence there. Mr. Bennett was good enough to give me a list of requisites which anexperience of two years in the Copper River district had shown him wereessential to the comfort and health of the prospector. They are asfollows:

CLOTHING. 

Three thick tweed suits. Three suits heavy woollen underwear. Six pairs wool stockings. Two pairs fur mits. Two heavy Mackinaw suits. [83]Four woollen shirts. Two heavy sweaters. One rubber lined top-coat. One fur Parka and hood. [83]Two pairs high rubber boots. Two pairs shoes. Two pairs heavy blankets. One fur-lined sleeping-bag. One suit oilskins. One suit buckskin underwear. Towels, needles, thread, wax, buttons. 

[Footnote 83: Procurable at Valdes. ]

MINING TOOLS. 

One long-handled shovel. One pick. One axe (duplicate handles). Five lbs. Wire nails. Three lbs. Oakum. Two large files. Two hammers. One jack blade. One large whip saw. One hand saw. One hundred and fifty feet ⅝" rope. A draw knife. Two chisels. One jack knife. One whetstone. Two buckets. Two miner's gold-pans. One frying-pan. One kettle. One Yukon stove. One enamelled iron pot. Two plates. One cup. One teapot. Three knives. Three forks. Three spoons. 

FOOD. 

Three hundred and fifty lbs. Flour. Two hundred lbs. Bacon. One hundred and fifty lbs. Beans. Ten lbs. Tea. Seventy-five lbs. Coffee. Five lbs. Baking powder. Twenty-five lbs. Salt. Five lbs. Sugar. One hundred and fifty lbs. Dried vegetables and meats. One hundred lbs. Assorted dried fruits. Ten lbs. Soap. Three tins matches. 

ARMAMENT. 

One gun (to fire shot or bullets). One hundred rounds shot and bullet cartridges. Re-loading tools. One large hunting knife. Fishing tackle. Snow goggles. 

CAMPING OUTFIT. 

One canvas tent, 8 ft. By 10 ft. , in one piece, with floor-cloth. Spare pegs and guy ropes. Mosquito netting. 

MEDICINE CHEST. [84]

Quinine pills. Calomel. Compound catharic pills. Chlorate of potash. Mustard plasters. Belladonna plasters. Carbolic ointment. Witch hazel. Essence of ginger. Laudanum. Tincture of iodine. Spirits of nitre. Tincture of iron. Cough mixture. Elliman's embrocation. Toothache drops. Vaseline. Iodoform. Goulard water. Lint. Bandages. Adhesive rubber plasters. Cotton wool. 

[Footnote 84: Best procurable at Burroughs & Welcome, Snow Hill, London. ]

A few cheap knives, compasses, &c. , may be taken as presents for thenatives. All these supplies will weigh, roughly speaking, 1400 lbs. , andthe whole outfit may be purchased at San Francisco, or any other city onthe Pacific slope, for about £60. 

Above the Hootalinqua the Lewes is known as the thirty-mile river, thatbeing about the distance from the mouth of the first-named stream to thefoot of the lake. This is a dangerous bit of navigation, for the ThirtyMile rushes out of Le Barge like a mill sluice and the little _WhiteHorse_ panted and puffed and rained showers of sparks in her franticefforts to make headway. Several steamers which have been lost hereperpetually menace the safety of others. It is impossible to raise thesunken vessels, the force of the current here being so great that itseemed when standing on the deck of the steamer as though one werelooking down an inclined plane of water. The stream here runs throughpine forests, ending at the river's edge in low, sandy cliffs, portionsof which have been torn bodily away by the force of the ice inspringtime to form miniature islands some yards from the shore. [85] Acharacteristic of this stream is its marvellous transparency. On a clearday rocks and boulders are visible at a depth of twenty to thirty feet. I have observed a similar effect on the River Rhone and other streamsfed to a large extent by glaciers and melting snow. 

[Footnote 85: The fall from Lake Lindemann at the head of the lake andriver system is about 800 ft. In a distance of about 540 miles. ]

The afternoon of the third day found us entering Lake Le Barge, [86] asheet of water thirty-one miles in length, which stands over twothousand feet above the sea-level, and is surrounded by precipitousmountains, densely wooded as far as the timber line, with curiouslycrenelated limestone summits. The southern shores of the lake arecomposed of vast plains of fertile meadow land, interspersed withpicturesque and densely wooded valleys, a landscape which, combined withthe blue waters of Le Barge and snowy summits glittering on the horizon, reminds one of Switzerland. Le Barge has an evil reputation for storms, and only recently a river steamer had gone down with all hands in one ofthe sudden and violent squalls peculiar to this region. To-day, however, a brazen sun blazed down upon a liquid mirror, and I sat on the bridgeunder an awning with a cool drink and a cigar, and complacently watchedthe glassy surface where five years before we had to battle in an openskiff against a stiff gale, drenched by the waves and worn out by hardwork at the oars. To-day the _White Horse_ accomplished the passage fromriver to river in about three hours, while on the former occasion ittook us as many days!

[Footnote 86: Lake Le Barge was named after Mike Le Barge, of the"Western Union Telegraph Company, " who was employed in constructing theoverland telegraph line from America to Europe (_viâ_ Bering Straits) in1867. The completion of the Atlantic cable about this period put an endto the project. ]

There is, on portions of Lake Le Barge, a curiously loud and resonantecho. A cry is repeated quite a dozen times, and a rifle shot awakensquite a salvo of artillery. This is especially noticeable near an islandabout four miles long near the centre of the lake, which for someobscure reason is shown on Schwatka's charts as a peninsula. TheAmerican explorer named it the "Richtofen Rocks, " but as the nearestpoint of this unmistakable island to the western shore is but half amile distant, and as the extreme width of the lake is only five miles, Icannot conceive how the error arose. 

Towards evening we reached the Fifty Mile River, noted for the abundanceand excellence of its fish. A few miles above the lake the Takheenaflows in from the west. This river, which rises in Lake Askell, derivesits name from the Indian words, "Taka, " a mosquito, and "Heena, " astream, and it is aptly named, for from here on to White Horse City wewere assailed by myriads of these pests. Indeed the spot where the townnow stands was once a mosquito swamp in which I can recall passing anight of abject misery. It was past midnight before the _White Horse_was safely moored alongside her wharf, but electric light blazedeverywhere, and here, for the first time since leaving Irkutsk, morethan seven months before, clanking buffers and the shriek of alocomotive struck pleasantly upon the ear. 

White Horse City is a cheerful little town rendered doubly attractive bylight-coloured soil and gaily painted buildings. There is a first-ratehotel adjoining the railway station, which contained a gorgeous bar withseveral billiard and "ping-pong" tables, the latter game being then therage in every settlement from Dawson to the coast. I mention the bar, asit was the scene of a somewhat amusing incident, which, however, is, asa Klondiker would say, "up against me. " About this period a "desperado"of world-wide fame named Harry Tracy was raising a siege of terror inthe State of Oregon, having committed over a dozen murders, andsuccessfully baffled the police. We had found Dawson wild withexcitement over the affair, and here again Tracy was the topic of thehour. Entering the hotel with some fellow passengers, I took up aSeattle newspaper and carelessly glancing at the portrait of aseedy-looking individual of ferocious exterior, passed it on to aneighbour, remarking (with reference to Tracy), "What a blood-thirstylooking ruffian!" "Why, it's yourself!" exclaimed my friend, pointing tothe heading, "A Phenomenal Globe-trotter, " which, appearing above thewood-cut, had escaped my notice. I am glad to be able to add that theportrait was not from a photograph!

As an instance of engineering skill, the "White Pass" is probably themost remarkable railway in existence, and the beauty and grandeur of thecountry through which it passes fully entitles it to rank as the "Scenicrailway of the world. " In 1896, I was compelled to cross the ChilkootPass to enter Alaska (suffering severely from cold and hunger during theprocess), and to scramble painfully over a peak that would have triedthe nerves and patience of an experienced Alpine climber. Regarding thissame Chilkoot a Yankee prospector once said to his mate: "Wal, pard, Iwas prepared for it to be perpendicular, but, by G--d, I never thoughtit would lean forward!" And indeed my recollections of the old "Gatewayof the Klondike" does not fall far short of this description. And inthose days the passage of the White Pass, across which the line nowruns, was almost as unpleasant a journey as that over the Chilkootjudging from the following account given by Professor Heilprin, who wasone of the first to enter the country by this route. The professorwrites:

"It is not often that the selection of a route of travel is determinedby the odorous, or mal-odorous qualities pertaining thereto. Such acase, however, was presented here. It was not the depth of mud alonewhich was to deter one from essaying the White Pass route. Sturdypioneers who had toiled long and hard in opening up one or more newregions had laid emphasis on the stench of decaying horseflesh as afirst consideration in the choice of route. And so far as stench anddecaying horseflesh were concerned they were in strong evidence. Thedesert of Sahara with its lines of skeletons, can boast of no suchexhibition of carcasses. Long before Bennett was reached I had takencount of more than a thousand unfortunates whose bodies now made part ofthe trail. Frequently we were obliged to pass directly over theseghastly figures of hide, and sometimes, indeed, broke into them. Menwhose veracity need not be questioned assured me that what I saw was inno way the full picture of the 'life' of the trail; the carcasses ofthat time were less than one-third the full number which in April andMay gave grim character to the route to the new 'El Dorado. ' Equallyspread out this number would mean one dead animal for every sixty feetof distance! The poor beasts succumbed not so much to the hardships ofthe trail as to lack of care and the inhuman treatment which theyreceived at the hands of their owners. Once out of the line of the madrush, perhaps unable to extricate themselves from the holding meshes ofsoft snow and of quagmires, they were allowed to remain where they were, a food-offering to the army of carrion eaters which were hovering about, only too certain of the meal which was being prepared for them. "

It will be seen by the foregoing accounts that only a short time ago thejourney across this coast range was anything but one of unalloyedenjoyment, and even now, although the White Pass Railway is undoubtedlya twentieth-century marvel, and every luxury is found on board thetrain, from a morning paper to "candies" and cigars, the trip across thesummit is scarcely one which I should recommend to persons afflictedwith nerves. The line is a narrow gauge one about 110 miles in length, which was completed in 1899 at a cost of about $3, 000, 000, and trainsleave the termini at Skagway and White Horse simultaneously every day inthe year at 9 A. M. , reaching their respective destinations at 4 P. M. Fora couple of hours after leaving White Horse the track skirts the easternshores of Lakes Bennett and Lindemann, through wild but picturesquemoorland, carpeted with wild flowers, [87] and strewn with grey rocks andboulders. A species of pink heather grows freely here, the scent ofwhich and the presence of bubbling fern-fringed brooks, and crispbracing air, recalled many a pleasant morning after grouse in BonnieScotland. A raw-boned Aberdonian on the train remarks on the resemblanceof the landscape to that of his own country and is flatly contradictedby an American sitting beside him, who, however, owns that he has neverbeen there! The usual argument follows as to the respective merits, climatic and otherwise, of England and the United States, which entails(also as usual) a good deal of forcible language. Shortly after this, however, the train begins to ascend, and its erratic movements are lessconducive to discussion than reverie. For although the rails are smoothand level enough, the engine proceeds in a manner suggestive of a toytrain being dragged across a nursery floor by a fractious child. Atmidday Bennett station is reached, and half an hour is allowed here forlunch in a cheerful little restaurant, where all fall to with appetitessharpened by the keen mountain air, and where the Scot and his lateantagonist bury the hatchet in "Two of whisky-straight. "

[Footnote 87: Lake Lindemann is about five miles, and Bennetttwenty-five miles in length. ]

Bennett is buried in pine forests, but here the real ascent commences, and we crawl slowly up an incline which grows steeper and steeper inproportion as trees and vegetation slowly disappear, to give place tobarren rocks, moss, and lichens. Towards the summit (over two thousandfeet high) the scene is one of wild and lonely grandeur, recalling theweirdest efforts of Gustave Doré. Nothing is now visible but awilderness of dark volcanic crags with here and there a pinnacle oflimestone, towering perilously near the line, and looking as though apuff of wind would dislodge it with disastrous results. The only gleamof colour in the sombre landscape are numerous lakes, or rather pools, of emerald green, perhaps extinct craters, which, shining dimly out ofthe dark shadows cast by the surrounding cliffs, enhance the gloom andmystery of the scene. Nearing the summit, the road has been blasted outof many yards of solid rock, a work entailing fabulous cost and manymonths of perilous and patient labour. The Chamounix railway inSwitzerland was, at the time of its construction, considered the king ofmountain railways, but it becomes a very humble subject indeed whencompared with the White Pass line. 

[Illustration: CONSTRUCTING THE WHITE PASS RAILWAY. ]

At Summit we cross the frontier into American territory, and here mythermometer marks a drop of 25° F. Since our departure this morning. Although this rapidly constructed line is admirably laid, portions ofthe ascent from White Horse are anything but reassuring to those averseto high altitudes, but they are not a circumstance to those on thedownward side. On leaving Summit station the train enters a shorttunnel, from which it emerges with startling suddenness upon a light, iron bridge which spans, at a giddy height, a desolate gorge. Thisspidery viaduct slowly and safely crossed, we skirt, for a while, themountain side, still overhanging a perilous abyss. Every car has aplatform, and at this point many passengers instinctively seek the sideaway from the precipice, which would in case of accident benefit themlittle, for there is no standing room between the train and a sheer wallof overhanging rock, the crest of which is invisible. Here the outlookis one which can only really be enjoyed by one of steady nerves, for thesouthward slope of the mountain is seen in its entirety, giving theimpression that a hardy mountaineer would find it a hard job to scaleits precipitous sides, and that this railway journey in the cloudscannot be reality but is probably the result of a heavy supper. Perhapsthe worst portion of the downward journey is at a spot where solidfoothold has been found impracticable, and the train passes over anartificial roadway of sleepers, supported by wooden trestles and clampedto the rock by means of iron girders. Here you may stand up in the carand look almost between your toes a sheer thousand feet into space. While we were crossing it, this apparently insecure structure shook soviolently under the heavy weight of metal that I must own to a feelingof relief when our wheels were once more gliding over _terra firma_. Themen employed in constructing this and other parts of the track werelowered to the spot by ropes, which were then lashed to a place ofsafety while they were at work. But although the construction of thisline entailed probably as much risk to life and limb as that of theEiffel Tower, only one death by accident is recorded during the wholeperiod of operations here, while it cost over a hundred lives to erectthe famous iron edifice in Paris. 

The gradient of this railway is naturally an unusually steep one, andshould, one would think, necessitate the utmost caution during thedescent, but we rattled down the mountain at a pace which in any countrybut happy-go-lucky Alaska would certainly have seemed like temptingProvidence, especially as only brakes are used to check the speed of thetrain. However, the fact that two passenger trains are run daily (also agoods train), and that not a single accident has occurred during thefour years the line has been in operation, are sufficient proof that theofficials of the White Pass Railway know what they are about, and arenot lacking in care and competence. I can speak from personal experienceas to their civility and also punctuality, for, towards three o'clock, the silvery waters of the Lynn Canal were disclosed through a rift inthe mountains, and an hour later we were steaming into the town ofSkagway, within half a minute of the scheduled time. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE FRANCO-AMERICAN RAILWAY--SKAGWAY--NEW YORK

While on the subject of railways a few remarks anent the projected linefrom France (_viâ_ Siberia and Bering Straits) to America may not beamiss. As the reader is already aware, the main object of our expeditionwas to determine whether the construction of such a line is within therange of human possibility. The only means of practically solving thisquestion was (firstly) to cover the entire distance by land between thetwo cities, by such primitive means of travel as are now available, and(secondly) to minutely observe the natural characteristics of thecountries passed through, in order to ascertain whether these offer anyinsuperable obstacle to the construction of a railway. 

I would again remind the reader that the overland journey from Paris toNew York had never been made, or even attempted, until it wasaccomplished by ourselves. This is the more necessary in so far as, before our departure from Paris, the project of an All-World railway wasfreely discussed in the English and French Press by persons with nopractical experience whatsoever of either Siberia or Alaska. Theiropinions would, therefore, have been equally valuable with reference toa railway across the moon or planet Mars. From a humorous point of view, some of the letters published were well worth perusal, notably those ofa French gentleman, who, in the Paris _New York Herald_, repeatedly drewmy attention to the fact that he "claimed the paternity of the scheme tounite France and America by rail, " and this being so, apparentlystrongly resented my making a preliminary trip over the ground with dogsand reindeer. Having ascertained, however, that M. De Lobel had nevervisited Arctic Siberia, and had not the remotest intention of doing so, I scarcely felt justified in abandoning the overland journey on hisaccount. This ridiculous but somewhat amusing incident was thereforebrought to an end by the following letter:

 "To the Editor of the _New York Herald_, Paris. 

 "SIR, --May I briefly reply to M. Loicq de Lobel's letter which appeared in your issue of November 23rd. Your correspondent has already violently attacked me in the Paris _Journal_, his grievance being that he 'claims the paternity' of the projected Trans-Siberian and Alaskan Railway. This fact is probably as uninteresting to your readers and to the world in general as it is to myself, and so far as I am concerned M. De Lobel is also welcome to annex (in his own imagination) the countries through which the proposed line may eventually pass. 

 "But this is not the point. According to his own showing, M. De Lobel only 'conceived the project' of uniting Paris and New York by rail in the year 1898. As I left New York in 1896 for Paris by land, with the object of ascertaining the practicability of this gigantic enterprise, I think that I may, with due modesty, dispute the shadowy 'paternity' of the scheme, which, after all, is worth nothing from a theoretical point of view. 

 "The American and British Press of March, April, and May 1897 will fully enlighten your correspondent as to the details of my last attempt, which unhappily met with disaster and defeat on the Siberian shores of Bering Straits. But I trust and believe that a brighter future is in store for the 'Daily Express' Expedition of 1901, which I have the honour to command, and which leaves Paris for New York by land on the 15th of next month. 

 "If, as M. De Lobel writes, 'the Englishman thought best not to answer' it was simply because the former's childish tirades seemed to me unworthy of a reply. If, however, you will kindly insert this brief explanation, you may rest assured that, so far as I am concerned, this correspondence is closed. 

 "I am, yours faithfully, "HARRY DE WINDT. 

 "ROYAL GEOGRAPHICAL SOCIETY, LONDON, _November 26, 1901. _"

With regard to the projected railway, let me now state as briefly and asclearly as I can the conclusion to which I was led by plain facts andpersonal experience. To begin with, there are two more or less availableroutes across Siberia to Bering Straits, which the reader may easilytrace on a map of Asia. The city of Irkutsk is in both cases thestarting-point, and the tracks thence are as follows:

No. 1 Route. To Yakutsk, following the course of the Lena River, andthence in an easterly direction to the town of Okhotsk on the sea ofthat name. From Okhotsk, northward along the coast to Ola and Gijiga, and from the latter place still northward to the Cossack outpost ofMarcova on the Anadyr River. From Marcova the line would proceednorthward chiefly over tundra and across or through one precipitousrange of mountains, to the Siberian terminus, East Cape, Bering Straits. 

The second route is practically the one we travelled, viz. , from Irkutskto the Straits _viâ_ Yukutsk, Verkhoyansk, and Sredni-Kolymsk. 

From a commercial point of view, route No. 1 would undoubtedly be thebest, for of late years a considerable trade has been carried on betweenVladivostok and the Sea of Okhotsk. The latter only twenty years ago wasvisited solely by a few whalers and sealing schooners, but a line ofcargo steamers now leaves Vladivostok once a month throughout the openseason (from June to September) and make a round trip, calling atPetropaulovsk (Kamchatka), Okhotsk, Yamsk, and Ayan. [88] There is now abrisk and increasing export trade in furs, fish, lumber, and whalebonefrom these ports, the imports chiefly consisting of American andJapanese goods. 

[Footnote 88: These vessels also carry passengers. ]

It has already been shown in a previous chapter that the naturalresources of the Yakutsk district would probably repay an extension ofthe Trans-Siberian line to this now inaccessible portion of the Tsar'sdominions. Indeed it is more than probable that in a few years themineral wealth of this province, to say nothing of its agriculturalpossibilities, will render the construction of a line imperative, at anyrate as far as the city of Yakutsk. The prolongation of this as farnorth as Gijiga is no idle dream, for I have frequently heard itseriously discussed, and even advocated, by the merchant princes ofIrkutsk. A railway to Gijiga would open up Kamtchatka, with its valuableminerals, furs, and lumber, and also Nelkan, near Ayan, where gold haslately been discovered in such quantities that a well-known Siberianmillionaire has actually commenced a narrow-gauge railway about twohundred miles in length, to connect the new gold-fields with the sea. Even this miniature line is to cost an enormous sum, for it must passthrough a region as mountainous and densely wooded as the eight hundredodd miles which separate Yakutsk from the coast. But although thislatter section of the Franco-American line, short as it is, would entaila fabulous outlay, there is here, at any rate, some _raison-d'être_ fora railway, viz. , the vast and varied resources of the region throughwhich it would pass, whereas to the north of Gijiga on the one hand, andVerkhoyansk on the other, we enter a land of desolation, thousands ofmiles in extent, chiefly composed of tundra, as yet unprospected, it istrue; but probably as unproductive, minerally and agriculturally, as anIrish bog. The reader is already aware that tundra is impassable insummer, for its consistency is then that of a wet bath sponge. The footsinks in over the knee at every step, and a good walker can scarcelycover a mile within the hour. In winter the hard and frozen surfaceaffords good going for a dog-sled and could, no doubt, be made tosupport a rolling mass of metal; but even then I doubt whether the thawsand floods of springtime would not find the rails and sleepers at sixesand sevens. This opinion is, of course, purely theoretical, for theexperiment of laying a line of such magnitude under such hopelessconditions has yet to be tried. 

Chat Moss in England is the nearest approach I can think of to theseSiberian swamps, but the railway across the former is only four mileslong, and cost, I am told, something like thirty thousand pounds. Atthis rate the tundra section of the Bering Straits Railway would aloneinvolve an outlay of twenty million sterling; probably far more, forevery foot of timber for the roadway would have to be imported into thistreeless waste. And how is this expenditure going to be repaid by thesebarren deserts, in winter of ice, and in summer of mud and mosquitoes. Let another Klondike be discovered near, say, Sredni-Kolymsk, and I haveno doubt that surveys for a line to this place would be commencedto-morrow by the Russian Government, but neither gold, not any othermineral has yet been found so far north in anything like payingquantities. Draw a straight line on the map from Verkhoyansk to Gijigaand it will divide the southern (or productive) portion of Siberia fromthe northern (and useless) wastes about three thousand miles in length, which a Paris-New York railroad would have to cross. [89]

[Footnote 89: "Around the North Pole lies a broad belt of inhospitableland, a desert which owes its special character rather to water than tothe sun. Towards the Pole this desert gradually loses itself in fieldsof ice; towards the south in dwarfed woods, becoming itself a field ofsnow and ice when the long winter sets in, while stunted trees strugglefor existence only in the deepest valleys or on the sunniest slopes. This region is the tundra. Our language possesses no synonym for theword tundra. Our fatherland possesses no such track of country, for thetundra is neither heath nor moor, neither marsh nor fen, neitherhighlands nor sand-dunes, neither moss nor morass, though in many placesit may resemble one or other of these. 'Moss Steppes' some one hasattempted to name it, but the expression is only satisfactory to thosewho have grasped the idea of steppe in its widest sense. "--_Brehm_. ]

A so-called prospectus issued by a syndicate, inviting the public tosubscribe for a "preliminary survey" for a Franco-American line, cameunder my notice the other day. Here is an extract:

"Ten years ago the name Siberia called up a picture of wastes of snowand ice. To-day the same Siberia is a land filled with thrivingvillages, producing grain and various vegetables; that great compellerof civilisation, the railway, has broken down the bars between the worldand Siberia. Besides its countless resources of the soil, besides itsrivers filled with valuable fish, and its forests inhabited byfur-bearing animals, Siberia is now beginning to show to the world itsresources of gold, iron, copper, manganese, quicksilver, platinum, andcoal, the yearly output of which is but a feeble index of what it willbe when the deposits are developed. "

All this is very true regarding certain portions of Siberia. The Amur, Altai, Yenesei, and even Yakutsk provinces. But although the writergoes on to enlarge upon the boundless possibilities which would beopened up by the construction of a railway from Europe to America, hefails to mention that it would have to traverse an Arctic andunproductive Sahara thousands of miles in extent. 

Some enthusiastic visionaries mentioned in an earlier portion of thischapter have laid stress on the fact that the passenger traffic overthis portion of the line would be enormous, that surging crowds ofsea-sick victims would gladly endure even three weeks in a train inpreference to a stormy passage across the Atlantic, and so forth. But Ifancy a moment's serious thought will show the absurdity of this theory. In the first place a journey by rail from Paris to New York wouldcertainly occupy over a month under the most favourable conditions, forwhile in summer time all might be comparatively plain sailing, gales, snow-drifts, and blizzards would surely, judging from our ownexperiences, seriously hamper the winter traffic, especially along thecoast. If this leviathan railway is ever constructed it must, in theopinion of the ablest Russian engineers, depend solely upon (1) thetransport of merchandise, and (2) the development of the now ice-lockedregions it will traverse. The scheme has never been, as many people seemto imagine, simply to convey passengers and their belongings from oneterminus to the other, for even Jules Verne would probably hesitate topredict the existence of this line as one of restaurants andsleeping-cars. 

But let us assume that the railway has actually reached East Cape at acost of, say, fifty millions sterling from Irkutsk, which is probably alow estimate. Here we are confronted by another colossal difficulty, thepassage of Bering Straits, which (at the narrowest part) are forty milesacross. Here my friends the theorists have again been very busy, and allkinds of schemes have been suggested for the negotiation of thisstumbling-block, from a bridge to balloons. Both are equally wild andimpracticable, although the former has been warmly advocated by aParisian gentleman, who never having been nearer even Berlin than theGare du Nord, can scarcely be expected to know much about the climaticconditions of North-Eastern Siberia. As a matter of fact, the mightieststone and iron structure ever built would not stand the break-up of theice here in the spring time for one week. A tunnel could no doubt bemade, for the depth of the Straits nowhere exceeds twenty-seven fathoms, and the Diomede Islands could be conveniently utilised for purposes ofventilation. But what would such a subway cost? And above all, where isthe money coming from to repay its construction?

In Northern Alaska almost the same difficulties would be met with as inArctic Siberia, for here also spongy tundra covers enormous tracts ofcountry. A company has, however, been formed for the purpose of laying aline between Iliamna on Cook's Inlet and Nome City which will, whencompleted, be really useful and profitable. Cook's Inlet is navigablethroughout the year, and it is proposed to run a line of steamers fromSeattle on Puget Sound to this port, where passengers will be able toembark on a comfortable train for Nome instead of facing a long andpainful journey by dog-sled. I understand that this work has actuallybeen commenced by the "Trans-Alaskan Railway Company, " but not with anyidea of connection with a possible Siberian system. This will be merelya local railway, which, judging from the increasing prosperity of Nome, and the fact that the line will pass through the rich Copper Rivercountry, should certainly repay its shareholders with interest. Theextension of the White Pass Railway as far as Dawson City is only aquestion of time, but the idea of prolonging it to Bering Straits wasnot even hinted at when I was in Alaska. 

All things considered I cannot see what object would be gained by theconstruction (at present) of a Franco-American railway. That the latterwill one day connect Paris and New York I have little doubt, for wheregold exists the rail must surely follow, and there can be no reasonabledoubt regarding the boundless wealth and ultimate prosperity of thosegreat countries of the future; Siberia and Alaska. But it is probablysafe to predict that the work will not be accomplished in the lifetimeof the present generation, or even commenced during the existence of thenext. When, at the conclusion of the journey, I arrived at New York, Iwas asked by reporters whether I considered it possible to connect thelatter city by rail with Paris. Most certainly it would be possible withunlimited capital, for this stupendous engineering feat would assuredlyentail an expenditure (on the Siberian side alone and not including aBering Straits tunnel), of fifty to sixty millions sterling. It seems tome that the question is not so much, "Can the line be laid?" as "Wouldit pay?" In the distant future this question may perhaps be answered inthe affirmative, but at present nothing whatever is known of the mineralresources of Arctic Siberia, a practical survey of which must take atleast fifteen to twenty years. If reports are then favourable, Russiamay begin to consider the advisability of a line to America, but, notwithstanding the fact that an attempt has been made in certainquarters to obtain money from the public for this now extremely shadowyscheme, I can only say that all the prominent Russian officials whom Ihave met simply ridicule the project. 

Skagway is pleasantly situated on the shores of the Lynn Canal, in anamphitheatre formed by precipitous cliffs, the granite peaks of whichalmost overhang the little town. A curious effect is produced here byrudely coloured advertisements of some one's chewing gum, or somebody'selse cigars with which the rocky sides of the nearest hills are defaced. But there is nothing new in this, for, as far back as 1887, the name ofa well-known American pill and ointment vendor met my astonished gaze onthe Great Wall of China. The North Pole will soon be the only virginfield left open to the up-to-date advertiser. Skagway is now a quiet, orderly township, and a favourite resort of tourists, but shortly afterit was founded, in 1898, a band of swindlers and cut-throats arrived onthe scene, and practically held the place at their mercy for severalweeks. The leader of this gang was one "Soapy Smith, " a noted"confidence man, " whose deeds of violence are still spoken of here withbated breath. This impudent scoundrel (said to have been a gentleman bybirth) was clever enough to become mayor of the town, and was thusenabled to commit robberies with impunity. Many a poor miner leaving thecountry with a hardly earned pile has been completely fleeced, andsometimes murdered, by the iniquitous and ubiquitous "Soapy, " who issaid to have slain, directly or indirectly, over twenty men. Finally, however, a mass meeting was held, where Smith was shot dead, not beforehe had also taken the life of his slayer. 

Southern Alaska is the Switzerland of America, and every summer itsshores are invaded by hordes of tourists. There was, therefore, littleroom to spare in the steamer in which we travelled down the Lynn Canal, one of the grandest fjords on the coast, which meanders through anarchipelago of beautiful islands, and past a coast-line of snowy peaksand glaciers of clear, blue crystal washed by the waves of the sea. Itsglaciers are one of the wonders of Alaska, for nowhere in the world canthey be witnessed in such perfection. According to a talented Americanauthoress, "In Switzerland a glacier is a vast bed of dirty, air-holedice, that has fastened itself like a cold, porous plaster to the side ofan alp. Distance alone lends enchantment to the view. In Alaska aglacier is a wonderful torrent that seems to have been suddenly frozenwhen about to plunge into the sea, " and the comparison, althoughfar-fetched, is not wholly devoid of truth. 

Nearing Juneau we passed the Davidson glacier sufficiently near todistinguish the strange and beautiful effects produced upon its whiteand glittering surface by cloud and sunshine. This is the second largestice-field in Alaska, the finest being its immediate neighbour, the Muirglacier, which drains an area of 800 square miles. [90] The actual icesurface covers about 350 square miles, the mass of it, thirty-five mileslong and ten to fifteen miles wide, while surrounding it on three sidesare mountains averaging 4000 to 6000 ft. In height. Vessels dare notapproach the ice wall, about 250 ft. High, nearer than a quarter of amile, as masses of ice continually fall from its surface, and submarinebergs, becoming detached from its sunken fore-foot rise to the surfacewith tremendous force. The colour of the ice on the Muir glacier is ascurious as it is beautiful, varying from the lightest blue to darksapphire, and from a dark olive to the tenderest shades of green. Although the feat has been often attempted no one has yet succeeded incrossing the Muir from shore to shore. [91]

[Footnote 90: The Jostedalbrae in Norway, the largest glacier in Europe, only covers 470 square miles. ]

[Footnote 91: See "Studies of Muir Glacier, in Alaska, " by HarryFielding Reid, _National Geographic Magazine_, March 1892. ]

The captain of the _Topeka_ informed me that glaciers and canneries arethe chief attractions of this coast. I assumed that it could not be theclimate, for rain drizzled persistently from a grey and woolly skynearly all the way from Skagway to Port Townsend, and this was regardedas "seasonable summer weather. " With bright sunshine this journeythrough a calm inland sea, gliding smoothly through fjords ofincomparable beauty, surrounded by every luxury, would be idyllic. Asit is, cold, rain and mist generally render this so-called pleasure tripone of monotony and discomfort, where passengers are often compelled toseek shelter throughout the day in smoke-room or saloon. Swathed inoil-skins, however, I braved the downpour, and visited one of thenumerous canneries to which the _Topeka_ tied up for a few minutes, andhere I was surprised to find that Chinese labour is almost exclusivelyemployed. And the ease and celerity with which a fish was received, soto speak, fresh from the sea, cleaned, steamed, and securely soldered ina smartly labelled tin, all by machinery, within the space of a fewminutes, was marvellous to behold. Before the days of Klondike, thefisheries of this coast were the chief source of wealth in Alaska, wheresea-board, lakes, and rivers teem with fish, the wholesale netting ofwhich seem in no way to diminish the number. The yearly output of thesecoast canneries is something stupendous, and they are, undoubtedly, afar better investment than many a claim of fabulous (prospective) wealthin the gold-fields of the interior. For the establishment of a canneryis not costly, labour and taxes are low, and fish of every description, from salmon and trout to cod and halibut, can be caught withoutdifficulty in their millions. Codfish which abound in Chatham Creek arethe most profitable, also herrings, of which six hundred barrels wereonce caught in a single haul, off Killisnoo. But the number of cannerieson this coast is increasing at a rapid rate, and five or six years hencelarge fortunes will be a thing of the past. The now priceless sea-otterwas once abundant along the south-eastern coast of Alaska, the value ofskins taken up to 1890 being thirty-six million dollars, but thewholesale slaughter of this valuable animal by the Russians, and lateron by the Americans, has driven it away, and almost the only groundswhere it is now found are among the Aleutian Islands and near the mouthof the Copper River. A good sea-otter skin now costs something like £200in the European market. 

Juneau and Port Wrangell were the only towns of any size touched atduring the two days' trip from Skagway to Port Townsend. The former wasonce the fitting-out place for miners bound for the Yukon, but Skagwayhas now ruined its commercial prosperity, and it is now a sleepy, miserable settlement which appeared doubly unattractive viewed through acurtain of mist. The rain poured down here in such sheets that DouglasIsland, only a couple of miles away, was invisible. Here is the famousTreadwell mine, where the largest quartz mill in the world crushes sixhundred tons in the twenty-four hours. This mine has already yieldedmore gold than was paid for the whole of Alaska. 

Fort Wrangell is more picturesque than Juneau, although perhaps this waspartly due to the cessation (for exactly half an hour) of the rain, which enabled our hitherto cooped-up tourists to enjoy a stroll, and abreath of fresh air ashore. Wrangell was once, like Juneau, a thrivingtown, when the Cassiar mines in British Columbia were a centre ofattraction. Between four and five thousand miners passed through everyspring and autumn, travelling to and from the diggings, and the usualhotels, saloons, and stores sprang up on all sides. Then came a periodof stagnation, till the last gold rush to Klondike, when it seemed asthough Wrangell would rise from its ashes. But the proposed route intothe country by way of the Stikine River was finally abandoned for theWhite Pass, and dealt the final _coup de grâce_ to the little town, which is now merely a decaying collection of wooden shanties and ruinedlog huts, tenanted chiefly by Indians, of whom we met more here than atany other point throughout the Alaskan journey. The natives of this partof the coast are called Thlinkits, a race numbering about 7000, and oncenumerous and powerful. But the Siwashes of Wrangell were amiserable-looking lot, the men apparently physically inferior to thewomen, some of whom would not have been ill-favoured, had it not beenfor the disgusting habit of daubing their faces with a mixture of sootand grease, which is supposed to keep off mosquitoes, and which givesthem the grotesque appearance of Christy Minstrels. Tattooing no longerprevails amongst the Thlinkits, but the men still paint their faces anddiscard ragged tweeds and bowlers for the picturesque native dress onthe occasion of a dance, or the feast known as a "Potlatch. " TheThlinkits are not hardy, nor, as a rule, long-lived, and diseases due todrink and dissipation are rapidly thinning them out. Shamanism existshere, but not to such an extent as amongst the Siberian races, and thetotem poles, which are met with at every turn in Wrangell, are notobjects of worship, but are used apparently for a heraldic purpose. Someof the ancient war canoes of this tribe are still in existence, butthey are only brought out on the occasion of a feast, when a chief andhis crew appear in the gaudy panoply of war-paint and feathers. 

On July 28, Seattle was reached, and here we met with a reception worthyof far doughtier deeds than we had accomplished. In 1896, Seattle was acountry town of some 30, 000 inhabitants, and I could scarcely recognisethis fine modern city of over 100, 000 souls which may shortly rival SanFrancisco as a commercial and social centre. This wonderful change ispartly due to discoveries in the Klondike, but chiefly perhaps to theincreasing trade of Puget Sound with the East. Fine Japanese liners nowrun direct every fortnight from Seattle to Japan, and on one of these apassage was obtained for my faithful friend and comrade, StepanRastorguyeff, whose invaluable services I can never repay, and to whom Ibade farewell with sincere regret. I am glad to add that the pluckyCossack eventually reached his home in safety (_viâ_ Yokohama andVladivostok) arriving in Yakutsk by way of Irkutsk and the Lena Riverearly in the new year of 1902. Vicomte de Clinchamp also left me here, to return direct to France _viâ_ New York and Le Havre. 

There is little more to tell. Travelling leisurely in glorious weatherthrough the garden-girt towns and smiling villages of the "Rouge-River"Valley, perhaps the most picturesque and fertile in the world, a day waspassed at Shasta Springs, the summer resort of fashionable Californians, where the sun-baked traveller may rest awhile in a little oasis ofcoolness and gaiety, cascades and flowers, set in a desert of darkpines. A week with old friends in cosmopolitan, ever delightful SanFrancisco, a rapid and luxurious journey across the American continent, land on August 25, 1902, New York was reached, and the long land journeyof 18, 494 miles from Paris, which had taken us two-thirds of a year toaccomplish, was at an end. 

APPENDIX I

APPROXIMATE TABLE OF DISTANCESPARIS TO NEW YORK

EUROPE AND ASIA

 E.  M. Paris to Moscow (rail) 1, 800Moscow to Irkutsk (rail) 4, 000Irkutsk to Yakutsk (employed 720 horses) 2, 000Yakutsk to Verkhoyansk (employed 80 horses and 240 reindeer) 623Verkhoyansk to Sredni-Kolymsk (employed 620 deer) 1, 006Sredni-Kolymsk to Nijni-Kolymsk (employed 8 horses, 27 reindeer, 50 dogs). 334Nijni-Kolymsk to Bering Straits (started with 64 dogs, arrived at Bering Straits with 9) 1, 500 ------Total English miles: Europe and Asia 11, 263

(Employing 808 horses, 887 reindeer, and 114 dogs. )

AMERICA

 E.  M. East Cape, Bering Straits to Cape Prince of Wales, Alaska 60Cape Prince of Wales to Nome City 140Nome City to St. Michael's 120St. Michael's to Dawson City 1, 200Dawson City to White Horse Rapids 450White Horse Rapids to Skagway 110Skagway to Seattle 1, 041Seattle to San Francisco 1, 000San Francisco to New York 3, 110 ------Total mileage: Paris to New York 18, 494

APPENDIX II

LIST OF POST-STATIONS BETWEEN IRKUTSK AND YAKUTSK

 Versts. Irkutsk to Koulinskaya 23Koulinskaya to Jerdovskaya 21Jerdovskaya to Ust-Ardinsk 21½Ust-Ardinsk to Alzonovskaya 31Alzonovskaya to Bandevskaya 25Bandevskaya to Hagatovskaya 29Hagatovskaya to Manzourskaya 30Manzourskaya to Malo-Manzoursk 31½Malo-Manzoursk to Katchugaskaya 24½Katchugaskaya to Verkolensk 28¾ ---- 265¼

_To Verkolensk, 3 kopeks a verst per horse. From Verkolensk to Yakutsk, 4½ kopeks a verst per horse. _

Verkolensk to Tumentsofskaya 25Tumentsofskaya to Korkinskaya 16Korkinskaya to Petrofskaya 19½Petrofskaya to Panamarefskaya 22Panamarefskaya to Jigalovskaya 21Jigalovskaya to Ust-Ilginsk 30½Ust-Ilginsk to Grousnovskaya 26Grousnovskaya to Zakamenska 19Zakamenska to Shamanovskaya 16¾Shamanovskaya to Golovskaya 18Golovskaya to Sourovskaya 16Sourovskaya to Diadinskaya 15½Diadinskaya to Basovskaya 22Basovskaya to Orlinsk 21Orlinsk to Tarasovskaya 17¼Tarasovskaya to Skokinskaya 22Skokinskaya to Boyarsky 20Boyarsky to Omolevskaya 23Omolevskaya to Riskaya 18Riskaya to Bania 17¾Bania to Touroutskaya 16¾Touroutskaya to Ust-Kutsk 16Ust-Kutsk to Yakurimsk 18½Yakurimsk to Kazarkinskaya 28Kazarkinskaya to Kokiskaya 20¼Kokiskaya to Sukhovskaya 25¾Sukhovskaya to Nazarovskaya 25½Nazarovskaya to Markovskaya 23Markovskaya to Oulkanskaya 21Oulkanskaya to Krasnoyarskaya 17½Krasnoyarskaya to Potapovskaya 14Potapovskaya to Makarovskaya 22¾Makarovskaya to Zaborskaya 15Zaborskaya to Bezroukov 31Bezroukov to Kirensk 31 ----------- 997½ - 732¼

Kirensk to Alexeieff 21Alexeieff to Garbovsk 21Garbovsk to Vishniakovskaya 28Vishniakovskaya to Spalashinsk 25Spalashinsk to Ilinsk 24¼Ilinsk to Darinskaya 22Darinskaya to Itcherskaya 28½Itcherskaya to Montinskaya 22½Montinskaya to Ivanoushkofskaya 28Ivanoushkofskaya to Tchastinsk 29Tchastinsk to Pianovkovskaya 18½Pianovkovskaya to Dulrovskaya 18½Dulrovskaya to Kireisk 30Kireisk to Solianskaya 26Solianskaya to Parshinsk 18¼Parshinsk to Risinsk 26½Risinsk to Tchuskaya 26Tchuskaya to Vitimsk 22½ ----------- 1433 - 435½

Vitimsk to Polovinaya 13Polovinaya to Peledonskaya 15¼Peledonskaya to Krestovskaya 28½Krestovskaya to Peskovskaya 28Peskovskaya to Graditsa 25Graditsa to Khamrinsk 31¼Khamrinsk to Kukinskaya 26Kukinskaya to Terechinskaya 20½Terechinskaya to Mukhtomskaya 29½Mukhtomskaya to Murinsk 22½Murinsk to Batamaiskaya 20Batamaiskaya to Sadkolskaya 21½Sadkolskaya to Niouskaya 25½Niouskaya to Turuklinsk 17½Turuklinsk to Jerbinsk 17½Jerbinsk to Tinnaiya 17¾Tinnaiya to Kamenskaya 21Kamenskaya to Jeloiskaya 23Jeloiskaya to Noktinskaya 30 ------------ 1866¼ - 433¼

Noktinskaya to Gotchilnaya 30Gotchilnaya to Beresovzskaya 22Beresovzskaya to Inniakskaya 17½Inniakskaya to Delgeskaya 22Delgeskaya to Katchegarskaya 20Katchegarskaya to Naleskaya 21Naleskaya to Tcherendeskaya 32½Tcherendeskaya to Birioutskaya 22½Birioutskaya to Berdianskaya 20Berdianskaya to Dourdousovskaya 20Dourdousovskaya to Olekminsk 18 ----------- 2111¾--245½

Olekminsk to Solyanskaya 26Solyanskaya to Harialakskaya 22¼Harialakskaya to Namaminskaya 24Namaminskaya to Russkaya 18Russkaya to Tchekurskaya 32½Tchekurskaya to Billaya 17Billaya to Hat-Tumulskaya 71Hat-Tumulskaya to Marhinskaya 22¼Marhinskaya to Marchihanskaya 22½Marchihanskaya to Samatatskaya 25½Samatatskaya to Elovskaya 25Elovskaya to Malikanskaya 25½Malikanskaya to Tchuriskaya 22Tchuriskaya to Isitzkaya 17½Isitzkaya to Krestinskaya 17¾Krestinskaya to Jurninsk 18¾Jurninsk to Oïmurdusk 26½Oïmurdusk to Ad-Dabausk 16Ad-Dabausk to Sinskaya 19Sinskaya to Batamaïskaya 27¾Batamaïskaya to Tit-Arinsk 24½Tit-Arinsk to Elanskaya 22Elanskaya to Tun-Arinsk 22Tun-Arinsk to Bulguniatatskaya 15Bulguniatatskaya to Bestiatskaya 15½Bestiatskaya to Pokrovskaya 23¾Pokrovskaya to Ulak-Ansk 18½Ulak-Ansk to Tektiurskaya 21¾Tektiurskaya to Tabaginskaya 17Tabaginskaya to Yakutsk 25 ---- 701¾

Total versts, 2813½. (A verst is two-thirds of an English mile. )

APPENDIX III

REINDEER STATIONS BETWEEN YAKUTSK AND VERKHOYANSK

 Versts. Yakutsk to Turutskaya 20Turutskaya to Makarinsk 30Makarinsk to Hatustatskaya 22Hatustatskaya to Eleginiakskaya 25Eleginiakskaya to Hagaraderdinsk 20Hagaraderdinsk to Taraïskaya 45Taraïskaya to Khatignak 37Khatignak to Tandinskaya 30Tandinskaya to Sanga-Ali (_Pov. _) 30Sanga-Ali to Sordonakia (_Pov. _) 50Sordonakia to Beté-Kül 50Beté-Kül to Anna-Sük (_Pov. _) 50

VERKHOYANSK PASS. 

Anna-Sük to Kangerak 40Kangerak to Mollahoï (_Pov. _) 65Mollahoï to Suruktutskaya 65Suruktutskaya to Suruktak (_Pov. _) 50Suruktak to Siremskaya 35Siremskaya to Golova-Medvied (_Pov. _) 60Golova-Medvied to Tsissibas 60Tsissibas to Yuk-Tak (_Pov. _) 50Yuk-Tak to Kurinskaya 70Kurinskaya to Verkhoyansk 30 --- Total versts 934

_Pov. --Povarnia. _

APPENDIX IV

YAKUTE SETTLEMENTS BETWEEN VERKHOYANSK AND SREDNI-KOLYMSK

 Versts. Verkhoyansk to Lang-Lor (_Y. _) 60Lang-Lor to Batagaï (_Pov. _) 45Batagaï to Aditschá (S. ) 150 _v. _--45Aditschá to Bür-Alü (_Pov. _) 45Bür-Alü to Tostach (S. *) 115 _v. _--70Tostach to Kürtas (_Pov. _) 85Kürtas to Siss (_Pov. _) 45Siss to Tiriak-Hureya (_Pov. _) 45Tiriak-Hureya to Sordak (_Pov. _) 45Sordak to Kurelach (S. *) 270 _v. _--50Kurelach to Sarok-Kalak (_Pov. _) 45Sarok-Kalak to Ustin (_Pov. _) 50Ustin to Bachaol-Buta (_Y. _) 30Bachaol-Buta to Ebelach (S. *) 175 _v. _--50Ebelach to Khatignak-Kül (_Y. _) 60Khatignak-Kül to Haras-Kül (_Y. _) 50Haras-Kül to Keni-Kül (S. *) 150 _v. _--40Keni-Kül to Ari-Tumul (_Y. _) 25Ari-Tumul to Khatignak (S. *) 100 _v. _--75Khatignak to Shestakova (_Pov. _) 80Shestakova to Siss-Ana (_Pov. _) 50Siss-Ana to Tsiganak (_Y. _) 50Tsiganak to Sokurdakh (_Pov. _) 20Sokurdakh to Andylakh (S. *) 250 _v. _--50Andylakh to Ultum (S. *) 60Ultum to Utchugoi-Kel (_Y. _) 40Utchugoi-Kel to Malofskaya (S. *) 50Malofskaya to Ehelakh (_Pov. _) 60Ehelakh to Yatetsia (_Y. _) 30Yatetsia to Sredni-Kolymsk 300 _v. _--60 ---- Total versts 1510

(*)--Change reindeer. (_Y. _)--_Yurta. _(S. )--Station. (_Pov. _)--_Povarnia. _

APPENDIX V

SETTLEMENTS ON KOLYMA RIVER BETWEEN SREDNI-KOLYMSK AND NIJNI-KOLYMSK

 Versts. Sredni-Kolymsk to Botolakh 50Botolakh to Silgisit 40Silgisit to Olbut 60Olbut to Pamaskina 60Pamaskina to Yuguz-Tamak 40 (_Horses_)

Yuguz-Tamak to Krest 30Krest to Gornitza 60 (_Reindeer_)

Gornitza to Omolonskaya 60Omolonskaya to Lakeyevskaya 40Lakeyevskaya to Kimkina 40Kimkina to Nijni-Kolymsk 40 (_Dogs_) --- Total versts 520

APPENDIX VI

A SHORT GLOSSARY OF YAKUTE WORDS

 Yakute. Turkish. 1 _Bir_ _Bir_2 _Iki_ _Iki_3 _Us_ _Utch_4 _Tar_ _Dort_5 _Bar_ _Besh_6 _Ali_ _Alti_7 _Sekki_ _Yedi_8 _Ahuse_ _Sekis_9 _Too-oose_ _Dokus_10 _Ohn_ _Ohn_20 _Shirbeh_30 _Olût_100 _Sūs_

A man--_Kehé_A woman--_Diak-Tar_Yes--_Da_No--_Sok_Good--_Yutchingan_Bad--_Koosahan_Big--_Lohan_Little--_Atchu-bui_A horse--_Atté_A dog--_Ut_A house--_Djiéh_A fire--_Wat_A gun--_Sar_Meat--_Ette_Quick--_Turganik_A door--_Ana_Water--_Ou_The sea--_Bayahel_A river--_Uriakh_The face--_Surei_The hands--_Ili_The arms--_Khari_The feet--_Atakh_Rain--_Sammor_Wind--_Tül_Snow--_Har_The sun--_Kün_The moon--_Oui_A mouse--_Kugak_A rat--_Kutchas_A wolf--_Bireh_A bear--_Ehä_A cow--_Anakh_Beautiful--_Utchingoi_Ugly--_Kouhahan_Dry--_Kuranak_Wet--_Nitchagaï_Dear--_Garāhan_Cheap--_Tcheptchiki_Far--_Gurach_Near--_Tchugoss_To go--_Sullar_To give--_Bier_To speak--_Etter_To ask--_Orjitar_To ride--_Miner_To buy--_Atlahar_To eat--_Ahukka_To drink--_Ihiéka_To smoke--_Tardar_A month--_Ui_A week--_Nediélia_A day--_Boikun_An hour--_Birtchas_

APPENDIX VII

GLOSSARY OF VARIOUS DIALECTS IN USE AMONGST THE TCHUKTCHIS INHABITINGTHE COASTS OF N. E. SIBERIA

Cape Shelagskoi to Whalen. East Cape. Oumwaidjik. There is: _Warkin_ _Warkin_There is not: _Winga_ _Winga_No: _Winga_ _Winga_ _Naka_Yes: _Ee-ee_ _Ee-ee_ _Ah-ah_All right: _Metchinki_Here: _Utku_I--my: _Mori_ _Wee_ _Kwanga_You--your: _Turginian_A deer: _Korang_ _Kashinat_ _Guwiniak_A house: _Yarat_ _Muntarak_ _Muntarak_Far: _Yar_By-and-bye: _Yo-yo_A walrus: _Durka_ _Ibok_ _Ayivak_Wood: _Ut-Tut_ _Naksiet_To sleep: _Zipiska_Keep still: _Deakarikti_ _Sien_ _Napéré_I don't know: _Ko_A dog: _At-Tau_ _Kokmarok_ _Klikmak_A man: _Katowvak_ _Yuk_A woman: _Nawonskat_ _Aranak_To drink: _Megwesiak_ _Mugwe_A bear: _Umhang_ _Nanok_ _Nanok_A seal: _Memet_ _Nahksak_ _Maklak_A sled: _Urgur_ _Kaimukshik_ _Kamiyak_A steamer: _It-Kowat_ _Toroma_ _Amakpawit_A knife: _Vallia_ _Sinkat_A duck: _Gallia_ _Tigumak_ _Kawak_Ice: _Ilgil_ _Sikok_ _Siku_Snow: _Alash_ _Ani_ _Anio_Wind: _Yu-yo_ _Anok_ _Anokiva_Good-day: _Ta-oom_ _Taham_ _Tanakhoom_You lie: _Eklang_ _Eklima-Kotung_The hand: _Askak_ _Eehit_To smoke: _Takwaigen_ _Aptiok_ _Meluktok_1: _Nerisha_ _Atajak_ _Atajak_2: _Irak_ _Mailop_ _Mailop_3: _Nerok_ _Piniayut_ _Piniayut_4: _Nirak_ _Shtemet_ _Shtemet_5: _Metch-Tinga_ _Taklimat_ _Taklimat_6: _No-Metch-Tinga_ _Awindlit_ _Awindlit_7: _Nera-Ah_ _Mara-Awindlit_ _Mara-Awindlit_8: _Angero-Utkui_ _Pinia-Unlulut_ _Pinia-Unlulut_9: _Onasinki_ _Shtema-Unlulut_ _Shtema-Unlulut_10: _Menitku_ _Kullia_ _Kullia_

APPENDIX VIII

METEOROLOGICAL RECORD OF THE DE WINDT EXPEDITION

PARIS TO NEW YORK, 1901-1902

+-------+--------------------+------------------------+------+------+| Date. | Place. | Remarks. |8 A. M. |6 P. M. |+-------+--------------------+------------------------+------+------+| Dec. | | | | || 19 | Paris } |Dull--some snow | | 40° || 20 | Berlin } Nord |Clear--sunshine | 42° | 50° || 21 | Warsaw } Express |Clear | 41° | 33° || 22 | Viazma } |Dull--snow | 20° | 22° || 23 | Moscow } | " " | 22° | 19° || 24 | " |Dull | 17° | 12° || 25 | " | " snow | -2° | 5° || 26 | " | " " | -8° | -5° || 27 | " |Fog and snow | -10° | 5° || 28 | " |Dull | 14° | 21° || 29 | " |Dull--snow | 6° | 15° || 30 | " |Dull | 11° | 12° || 31 | " |Dull--fog | 20° | 22° || Jan. | | | | || 1 | " |Dull | 20° | 22° || 2 | " | " | 30° | 33° || 3 | " | " | 32° | 33° || 4 | " | " | 37° | 18° || 5 |} | " | 30° | 28° || 6 |} | " | 32° | 29° || 7 |} | " | 19° | 29° || 8 |} Trans-Siberian |Bright--some clouds | 21° | 25° || 9 |} Railway |Bright sunshine | 12° | 0° || 10 |} |Fine | -15° | -9° || 11 |} | " | -14° | 2° || 12 |} |Dull--snow | 7° | 5° || 13 | Irkutsk |Fine | 8° | 15° || 14 | " |Dull | -2° | 10° || 15 | " | " | 0° | 15° || 16 | " |Bright sunshine | 10° | 22° || 17 | " |Fog and snow | 15° | 11° || 18 | " |Bright sunshine | -8° | 6° || 19 | " |Dull | -2° | -10° || 20 |} Alzonovskaya |Bright sunshine | -31° | -35° || 21 |} |Fog | -65° | -30° || 22 |} | " | -50° | -32° || 23 |} | " | -50° | 11° || 24 |} | " | -12° | 1° || 25 |} |Dull--snow and gale N. E. | 0° | 8° || 26 |} |Clear | -8° | 5° || 27 |} |Snow | 12° | 5° || 28 |} |Clear | -5° | -14° || 29 |} | " | -35° | -30° || 30 |} |Fog | -51° | -35° || 31 |} |Snow | -10° | -5° || Feb. | | | | || 1 |} Lena Post-Road | " | -2° | -2° || 2 |} | " | -2° | -5° || 3 |} |Bright sunshine | 2° | 5° || 4 |} |Dull | 10° | 12° || 5 |} | " | 15° | 15° || 6 |} |Fog | 2° | -5° || 7 |} | " | -5° | -4° || 8 |} |Fine | -12° | -28° || 9 |} |Bright sunshine | -40° | -32° || 10 |} | " " | -30° | -10° || 11 |} | " " | -25° | -16° || 12 |} | " " | -28° | -35° || 13 |} | " " | -34° | -25° || 14 | Yakutsk |Snow | -15° | -24° || 15 | " |Bright sunshine | -24° | -24° || 16 | " | " " | -32° | -34° || 17 | " | " " | -34° | -24° || 18 | " | " " | -32° | -26° || 19 | " | " " | -20° | -14° || 20 | " | " " | -24° | -30° || 21 |} " | " " | -41° | -2° || 22 |} |Dull | -12° | -10° || 23 |} |Bright sunshine | -45° | -20° || 24 |} | " " | -41° | -23° || 25 |} Yakutsk | " " | -45° | -30° || 26 |} to | " " | -42° | -40° || 27 |} Verkhoyansk | " " | -75° | -75° || 28 |} |Dull--snow | -35° | -37° || Mar. | | | | || 1 |} |Bright sunshine | -45° | -63° || 2 | Verkhoyansk | " " | -65° | -50° || 3 |} " | " " | -40° | -62° || 4 |} " | " " | -66° | -65° || 5 |} | " " | -73° | -10° || 6 |} | " " | -30° | -35° || 7 |} | " " | -30° | -25° || 8 |} |Fog | -10° | -78° || 9 |} Verkhoyansk | " | -30° | -30° || 10 |} to Sredni-Kolymsk | " | -30° | -0° || 11 |} |Bright sunshine | -55° | -60° || 12 |} | " " | -35° | -40° || 13 |} | " " | -34° | -25° || 14 |} | " " | -40° | -30° || 15 |} | " " | -25° | -25° || 16 |} | " " | -10° | -20° || 17 |} | " " | -15° | 0° || 18 |} Sredni-Kolymsk | " " | -15° | -10° || 19 | " " | " " | -20° | -10° || 20 | " " |Fog | -10° | -18° || 21 | " " | " | -38° | -25° || 22 |} " " |Bright sunshine | -35° | -30° || 23 |} | " " | -40° | -25° || 24 |} |Dull | 0° | -10° || 25 |} Sredni-Kolymsk-- |Dull--gale S. W. | -5° | -15° || 26 |} Nijni-Kolymsk |Fine | -20° | -5° || 27 |} |Dull--gale S. E. | 5° | -15° || 28 |} Nijni-Kolymsk |Dull | -20° | -15° || 29 | " " |Fine | -30° | -8° || 30 | " " |Bright sunshine | -35° | -10° || 31 | " " | " " | -30° | -25° || Apr. | | | | || 1 | " " | " " | -26° | -30° || 2 | " " |Fine--some snow | -18° | -20° || 3 | " " |Fine | -20° | -14° || 4 | Sukharno |Strong gale N. W. | -16° | -20° || 5 | " | " " " | -15° | -22° || 6 | " | " " " | -20° | -20° || 7 | Camp 1 |Bright sunshine | -16° | -20° || 8 | |Dull | 0° | 0° || 9[92]| |Strong gale N. | 0° | -2° || 10 |} |Snow | 20° | -10° || 11 |} |Strong gale N. W. | -10° | -10° || 12 |} | " " E. | 5° | 15° || 13 |} |Poorga N. W. | 12° | 25° || 14 |} | " " | 12° | 9° || 15 |} | " " | 4° | -7° || 16 |} | " S. E. | -2° | 5° || 17 |} | " S. E. | 10° | 5° || 18 |} | " E. | 0° | 4° || 19 |} |Strong gale N. E. | 0° | 0° || 20 |} | " " W. | -5° | 2° || 21 |} |Fine--N. E. Light | 6° | 10° || 22 |} |Gale S. W. | 0° | 0° || 23 |} |Snowstorms | 30° | 5° || 24 |} | " | 25° | 5° || 25 |} |Dull--snow | 12° | 19° || 26 |} |Strong gale N. W. | 22° | 15° || 27 |} |Gale N. W. | 20° | 15° || 28 |} |Light breeze N. | 14° | 10° || 29 |} Arctic Coast |Dull | 25° | -2° || 30 |} |Bright sunshine | -8° | 10° || May | | | | || 1 |} |Dull--gale N. | 18° | 16° || 2 |} |Snowstorms | 22° | 0° || 3 |} |Gale N. And snow | 25° | 15° || 4 |} |Strong gale N. W. | 20° | 20° || 5[93]|} | " " N. E. | 22° | 20° || 6 |} |Dull | 55° | 24° || 7 |} |Gale N. E. | 32° | 28° || 8 |} | " S. W. | 38° | 26° || 9 |} |Fog | 26° | 20° || 10 |} |Bright and clear | 15° | 28° || 11 |} | " " " | 18° | 25° || 12 |} | " " " | 23° | 17° || 13 |} |Dull--strong breeze S. W. | 22° | 25° || 14 |} | " " " | 22° | 15° || 15 |} |Poorga N. E. | 15° | 15° || 16 |} |Dull--strong gale N. E. | 20° | 18° || 17 |} |Strong gale N. W. --snow | 20° | 18° || 18 |} |Snow | 25° | 20° || 19 | Whalen--Bering |Dull--still | 32° | 25° || | Straits | | | || 20 | " " " | " " | 45° | 25° || 21 | " " " | " " | 50° | 34° || 22 | " " " | " " | 32° | 31° || 23 | " " " |Snow | 44° | 45° || 24 | " " " |Fog | 44° | 39° || 25 | " " " |Strong breeze S. --dull | 36° | 40° || 26 | " " " |Gale S. E. And sleet | 35° | 36° || | " " " | | | || 27 | " " " |Fine | 36° | 39° || 28 | " " " |Dull--fog | 42° | 40° || 29 | " " " |Dull | 43° | 40° || 30 |} | " | 49° | 34° || 31 |} | " | 38° | 46° || June |} | | | || 1 |} |Bright and clear | 34° | 28° || 2 |} |Gale S. | 32° | 32° || 3 |} |Dull--rain | 42° | 34° || 4 |} |Bright and clear | 56° | 51° || 5 |} |Clear | 38° | 52° || 6 |} |Fine--hazy | 56° | 68° || 7 |} |Clear | 47° | 65° || 8 |} Bering Straits | " | 46° | 55° || 9 |} | " | 48° | 88° || 10 |} | " | 48° | 60° || 11 |} | " | 45° | 38° || 12[94]|} |Rain | 46° | 36° || 13 |} | " | 46° | 40° || 14[94]|} | " | 43° | 40° || 15 |} |Fog | 40° | 42° || 16 |} |Clear | 40° | 55° || 17 |} |Still | 53° | 55° || 18 |} | " | 51° | 50° || 19 |} |Gale S. --dull--rain | 42° | 41° || 20 |} Cape Prince |Strong gale S. W. | 34° | 40° || 21 |} of Wales--Alaska | " " " | 33° | 36° || 22 |} |Gale N. W. --dull | 45° | 42° || 23 |} | " S. W. --dull | 36° | 38° || 24 |} | " S. W. --dull | 38° | 38° || 25 |Nome City |Clear and bright | 45° | 65° || 26 | " " | " " " | 45° | 62° || 27 | " " | " " " | 55° | 70° || 28 | " " | " " " | 62° | 64° || 29 | " " | " " " | 60° | 64° || 30 |Saint Michael's | " " " | 62° | 73° |+-------+--------------------+------------------------+------+------+

[Footnote 92: 40° below zero inside tent for three hours at night. ]

[Footnote 93: Dates from this must be set back one day on account ofcrossing 180° long. ]

[Footnote 94: Sea ice opened. ]

THE END. 

ESTABLISHED 1798

[Illustration]

T. NELSONAND SONSPRINTERS ANDPUBLISHERS

[Transcriber's Note: The following typographical errors present in theoriginal edition have been corrected. 

In Chapter II, "accom- the expedition" has been changed to "accompaniedthe expedition". 

In Chapter IV, a missing quotation mark has been inserted before "Youmust not take your furs off". 

In Chapter V, "other goulish repasts" has been changed to "otherghoulish repasts". 

In Chapter VI, "arrive as its destination" has been changed to "arriveat its destination". 

In Chapter XI, "a mountain two rivers and a village" has been changed to"a mountain, two rivers and a village"; and a comma has been changed toa period after "a voyage of nearly two months from Sredni-Kolymsk". 

In Chapter XIII, "by Waldemar Borgoras" has been changed to "by WaldemarBogoras". 

In Chapter XIV, "a rocky, precipitous promonotory" has been changed to"a rocky, precipitous promontory"; a comma has been changed to a periodafter "during their periods of festivity"; and a missing period has beenadded after "a Russian and a Turk". 

In Chapter XV, a missing period has been added after "after a terriblenight in the ice". 

In Chapter XVI, "fiery poision" has been changed to "fiery poison"; amissing period has been added after "through the open doorway"; and "wenear our destination" has been changed to "we neared our destination". 

In Chapter XVII, a single creek is successively referred to as "LastChance" and "Lost Chance": the second occurrence has been changed to"Last Chance". Also, "held and and shaken" has been changed to "held andshaken". 

In Appendix I, "Niji-Kolymsk to Bering Straits" has been changed to"Nijni-Kolymsk to Bering Straits". 

In Appendix III, "Beté-Kül to Auna-Sük" has been changed to "Beté-Kül toAnna-Sük". 

In Appendix IV, "Keni-Kül to Ari-Tumul (Y. ))" has been changed to"Keni-Kül to Ari-Tumul (Y. )". ]