We bade the Koreans good-by, and shoved off into the stream, which was running like a mill-race. We were kept busy steering the raft clear of the rocks with which the river was strewn. As yet we used only the poles. I may as well confess right here that this trip on the raft was a fearfully hazardous undertaking, for we never knew what sort of water we had below us; so clumsy was our craft there was no chance of escape to either bank should danger loom suddenly ahead. But the hard work we had experienced in making our way through the tangled woods made us reverse the dictum of Hamlet, and, rather than bear again the ills we had been through, we flew to others that we knew not of. The rush and swirl of the angry waters, the narrow escape from the ragged crest of a reef that came almost, but not quite, to the surface, and was invisible thirty feet away, the rush past steep cliffs and flowery banks, all formed such a delightful contrast to the weary plodding through the forest that we were willing to welcome almost any dangers for the sake of the exhilaration of this mad dash down the stream.
The river was only about twenty yards wide at the point where we embarked upon it, but it broadened rapidly as it was fed by tributary streams from either side. Now and again the current was divided by an island, and then came together far below. All went smoothly the first day, and at four o'clock we tied up to the bank and prepared to camp.
But so great was our difficulty in finding any dry wood that it was bedtime before we had finished our preparations for the night.
The next morning we made an early start. It was thought that we must be near the junction of the Uchingay and the Paran. Though a drizzly, sleety day, it did not dampen our ardor--nor that of the mosquitos. I had to put on a set of oilskins which greatly hampered my movements on the raft. The river had now broadened to a hundred and fifty feet, and was indeed a mighty torrent. We tied up to the bank frequently to examine the outcroppings.
We had congratulated ourselves upon the ease and rapidity of our run down-stream, when suddenly we sighted white water below and knew there was serious trouble ahead. Our raft was so light that usually it would pass over any obstacles in the bed of the stream or at most scrape lightly upon them, turn around once or twice, and then float off into smooth water below. Of course, if the rocks came above the surface it was an easier matter to go around them. We managed to pass through these rapids successfully, but immediately below them we saw that the stream divided into two parts, the channel to the left appearing to be the better one. We guided our raft accordingly, and soon found ourselves rushing down a gorge at railroad speed. The canon began to "box up" in an ugly manner, and our pace became so great that we lost control of our little craft. Sweeping around a bend, we saw that a great tree had been undermined by the water, and had fallen out over the stream so that two thirds of the narrow channel was completely blocked. We strove with might and main to pull the raft to one side in order to evade disaster, but she might as well have been an ocean steamer for all the effect of our futile endeavors. We swept under and among the branches of the tree, and though we hugged the raft as closely as possible, we were both brushed clean off. I seized a branch and tried to draw myself up, but the current snatched me away, and I was swept down-stream. I fought to regain the surface, but could not do it. My head was fairly bursting, when I felt the current pushing me up, and suddenly I was shot out of the water and rolled up on a wooden incline. As soon as I could collect my wits I found, to my amazement, that I was on the raft again. It had landed against a rock in a shelving position, with the lower side under the water, and the water itself had provided, in an almost miraculous manner, the means which alone could save my life. Almost the first thing I saw was a hand above the water, grasping the edge of the raft, and another feeling eagerly for a place to get hold. Poor Fronyo was under water and evidently far gone. I thrust my arm in up to the shoulder, and got hold of his hair, and I had little difficulty in dragging him out and up on the raft. He was almost unconscious. I took him by the collar and the seat of the pants, and, by pounding his stomach on the pack, soon relieved him of the water he had swallowed.
Twenty minutes later I was rejoiced to see him quite himself again, although very weak.
[Illustration: "Kim" in Summer Camp on Tundra.]
When he had sufficiently recovered, we began to think of continuing our eventful journey. The raft was firmly lodged upon the rock, and the force of the current threatened to break it up at any moment. I waded into the water on the submerged end of the raft to ease the pressure on the rock, and then, with levers, we gradually swung her about until she drifted free of the ledge and went whirling down-stream.
By good luck we encountered no more obstacles, and soon shot out into open country; and, in a drenching rain, we pulled up to the bank and hastened to make preparations for getting dry. Almost everything we had was soaking wet, but I remembered that among our impedimenta there was a tin box containing some matches. I rummaged around and found it, but the matches were too damp to use. We then hunted everywhere for a piece of flint, but could find none. As a last resource, I opened my medicine chest and took out a piece of absorbent cotton. Then we secured some dry chips from the interior of a log of dead wood.
Opening three or four of my revolver cartridges, I poured out the powder on the absorbent cotton and then fired a blank shell into it.
This manoeuver proved successful, and we soon had a roaring fire. We stood in the smoke and let our clothes dry while we fought the mosquitos. Now and then we would make a dash out of our covert to bring wood for the fire. In a couple of hours we were dry, and, lighting our pipes, we had a good smoke. We were able to laugh, then, at the ludicrous aspect of what had been a mighty close shave. Fronyo had done better than I, for he had not once loosed his hold on the raft; and yet had I not been swept off and then thrown up on the raft again, there would have been no one to tell the story.
This Tunguse, Fronyo, was game to the backbone. When it came time to start out once more on our crazy craft, he crossed himself devoutly, and followed me without a murmur. He said that if God willed that he should die on that raft he would die, that was all. If he did not follow me wherever I went he felt that he would lose caste with his people and be shamed forever.
That day I shot two sea-gulls which had come far inland to nest. They were not very savory eating, being tough and insipid. These birds usually come up into the interior in May, and, until the advent of the salmon, they have little to eat except berries. Each day they make a trip down to the coast and back.
All our sugar was melted, and our tea had received a preliminary steeping; but we dried it out and made it do. The fact is, we were rather badly off for food. I had only a few paper shells left, and half of these were damp.
The next morning after our adventure in the gorge we cut loose from the bank, and, in an hour's time, floated out of the Uchingay into the Paran, which was a hundred and twenty yards wide, and carried an immense volume of water. The river was in flood, and was filled with small islands, which made it difficult to choose a route; but all went well, and at four o'clock we pulled up to the bank at the spot where we had first crossed, and where we had agreed to meet the Koreans. We settled down in camp, expecting to see them on the following day. That afternoon I had the pleasure of killing a goose with a brood of little ones. After the mother goose had been killed the little ones took to a small pond, but were hunted down and killed in cold blood. It was no time to think of mere sportsmanship, as the law of self-preservation absorbed our thoughts. Soon we heard the "honking" of the old male goose. Fronyo took the dead goose and cleverly set it up with a stick thrust through its neck, and the other end stuck in the mud at the bottom of the shallow pond. The old gentleman goose saw his spouse sitting quietly on the water, and was just settling down near her when, not receiving any answer to his call, he grew suspicious and started to rise again. I could ill afford to waste a single cartridge, but I took the risk and fired. The old fellow came to the ground with a resounding thump. We now had over twenty pounds of good meat. Of the little goslings we made a soup, adding a good quantity of wild onions; and it would have been a dish fit for a king had we possessed a little salt. But our supply had been melted.
[Illustration: Reindeer Feeding.]
The next day we heard a rifle-shot in the woods. This was the signal agreed upon, and soon Konikly and Howka came running into camp half famished, and eagerly bolted the bones that we had thrown aside. We could not waste a cartridge on an answering shot, so Fronyo went out to meet the Koreans, and soon brought them into camp, and there followed an interesting interchange of experiences since we had parted company on the Uchingay. I found that they had not hoarded their provisions at all, but, with true Korean improvidence, had eaten up everything. For the morrow they had no thought. I took a careful inventory of stock, and found that we had two geese, a little wet rice, some tea, and hard bread. The outlook was certainly not pleasing, for it would take at least six days to get within the radius of civilization.
To recross the river we used the same heavy raft that we had crossed on before, dragging it a mile up-stream before venturing to embark.
The horses knew that they were on the homeward trail, and breasted the swift tide willingly.
Before starting out to cross the mountains on the way to Ghijiga, it was imperative that we should supplement our slender stock of food, for there would be several days during which we could hope to get very little along the way. With our small fish-net I tried a little arm of the river, and succeeded in catching two fine _harritongas_, each weighing nearly three pounds. They were black on top, with a yellow belly, and supplied us with a delicious white meat. The dorsal fin extends from the neck to the tail. It is a favorite dish in Russia, where it is called the _harra_. Try as I might, I could catch no more.
I decided that it would be necessary to send Fronyo on ahead with the best horse and most of the food, with instructions to hurry to Ghijiga and secure from the magistrate the necessary food, and then hasten back to our relief. I wanted certain special articles of food, and as I could not write Russian, and as Fronyo could not be expected to know the different kinds of foreign food, I was driven to use the primitive ideographic method. My note to the magistrate, therefore, consisted of a series of pictures, representing roughly the things that I wanted and the amount. First came a picture of a Tunguse leading a pack-horse, and then the "counterfeit presentment" of a tin of beef, with the number twelve appended. Then came loaves of bread, with tins of butter following, and a noble array of other edibles. To my fancy it was the most interesting procession I had ever witnessed.
Fronyo said that we need have no fear, for if worse came to worst, we could live on the wild onions and the inside bark of the fir-trees, which grew here and there among the mountains, while on the tundra there were plenty of tundra rats--appetizing thought! Of course, if we had been in any real danger of starvation, we could have immolated the horses and dogs on the altar of Epicurus, but we did not propose to do this, except as a last resort.
The wild onion is considered the best cure for the scurvy, and is eaten eagerly as soon as it begins to appear in the spring. It is said, though I had no opportunity to see a case, that if scurvy is imminent and some of the wild garlic is eaten, the body breaks out in an eruption which passes away in a few days. The onion seems to expel the germs through the skin by means of this eruption.
The natives strip the birchbark from the trees while it is still green, and cut it into long threads like vermicelli. On entering a village it is quite a common sight to see the women cutting up this bark for food. They ferment the juice of this birchbark and make a mild alcoholic drink. They also eat the berries of the shad-bush and the bark of the sallow, a kind of willow.
These people have acquired a remarkable knowledge of the virtues of various plants. Some of these tribes are accustomed to dip the points of their arrows into a decoction of a species of ranunculus, and wounds so inoculated are incurable unless the poison is immediately drawn out. Even whales, if wounded with these arrows, come near the shore and expire in dreadful agony.
Fronyo started out at a good pace while we stayed behind to try and secure more game before hitting the trail across the mountains. We secured two more fish, and at four o'clock in the afternoon were on the road, which we kept till ten o'clock. The next morning, after half a breakfast, we pushed on up the valley through the foothills of the range that we had to cross, none of us any too cheerful, but all determined.
That day I discovered some crumbs of bread in Pak's beard, and investigation showed that he had been making a square meal of a large portion of our remaining small stock of bread. It may be pardoned me, under the circumstances, that I drew off and hit him a good shoulder blow in the left eye, which felled him to the ground. This proved to be an unfortunate form of punishment, for he was the Korean who possessed only one good eye, and that was good no longer. My anger, righteous though it may have been, turned instantly to solicitude. I blamed myself without measure for my hasty action, went into camp and founded a hospital on the spot. For the next twenty-four hours all my energies and resources were centered on that unhappy eye. I can truly say that I have never hit anything since without first making sure that the object of my punishment had a spare eye. Later on my conscience forced me to give him a silver watch and a new suit of clothes. I rather think the other Korean envied him that blow when he saw the final result.
To my vast relief the eye healed, and we went on. The third day saw us over the mountains and crawling across the tundra. We had thrown away all our bedding and blankets, and each was astride a horse. On the fourth day we were reduced to wild onions and half-ripe berries, which induced a violent diarrhea. We came at last to where sea-gulls were nesting, but they were so shy that we could not get near them. Konikly had gone on with Fronyo, but we still had Howka with us, and he was getting fat on the tundra rats. It was to him, now, that we looked for food. He would make a rush at a sea-gull, and, as the bird flew from its nest on the tundra, he would begin to devour the eggs; but we would rush up and drive him off and secure the loot. The eggs were far gone, and would have been ready to hatch in another week. We boiled them, and the Koreans ate the embryonic sea-gulls while I ate the albuminous substance that still remained. About this time we began to think of sacrificing one of the horses to the common good, but no one of us was strong enough to walk, and the horses were therefore spared. The dog we could not kill, for he was our chief provider.
[Illustration: Three Little Half-caste Russians and Native Nurse, Ghijiga, Okhotsk Sea.]
We plodded on until we were about two days' journey from Chrisoffsky's house, when one morning I descried, far across the tundra, a line of some fifteen pack-horses and men. We spurred on gladly to meet the welcome relief.
I found that half a dozen of the officers and men of the steamer which my employers had sent for me had come to hunt me up. Never have I seen such a glorious sight as those well-dressed men and those loaded horses. The captain dismounted, and I tried to address him in Russian, but he said, "You forget that I speak English." Now, it may seem scarcely credible, and yet it is true, that for a few moments I was almost totally unable to converse with him in my native tongue. I had not used a word of it in conversation for fourteen months, and my low physical condition acting on my nerves, confused my mind, and I spoke a jumble of English, Russian, and Korak. It was a week before I could talk good, straight English again.
We camped right where we had been met, and the packs were opened up immediately. I sat on a sack filled with potatoes, and watched them bring out coffee, then some bacon, then some fresh eggs! Then the captain came with a bottle of champagne and handed me a glass. This I held in one hand, and with the other I reached down and extracted a potato, and fell to munching it raw, sipping the champagne between bites, while I watched them build a fire and prepare the food. It was a feast that I shall never forget. After it a box of good cigars was circulated, which added the final touch to my felicity.
When the inner man had been satisfied, I began to think of how the outer man might be improved upon. My clothes were in rags, my weight had fallen from one hundred and sixty pounds to one hundred and fifteen, my beard was long and unkempt, my boots were in shreds. The good friends had thoughtfully brought along my steamer trunk, which now lay in one of the tents. I ordered several kettles of water heated, and stripping behind the tent, I threw the noisome rags, with all their denizens, as far into the bush as I could, and then went in and had a glorious tubbing. I got into a suit of soft flannels, Scotch tweed knickerbockers and a Norfolk jacket, and after shaving and grooming myself for an hour, the loathsome larva that had crawled into camp emerged from that tent a bejeweled butterfly. That delicious moment was worth almost as much as it cost.
Then we made our way back to Ghijiga, where I distributed presents among my friends, native and foreign, and boarded the steamer for Vladivostok. I reached that place twelve days later, and gave account of my travels and explorations. The search for a Siberian Klondike had been, so far, a failure. This is not the place for a technical account of my observations in northern Siberia, but this much I may say: though there may be gold within the radius that I covered, I satisfied myself that there were no extensive auriferous deposits on the streams flowing into the Okhotsk Sea near its head, nor in the beach sands along the shore of Bering Sea, south of the Anadyr River. But, of course, the whole question was not yet settled, for there remained the whole stretch of the northeast peninsula, above the point I had reached, and it turned out that my work was not yet finished.
CHAPTER XVI
A TEN-THOUSAND-MILE RACE
Persistent rumors of gold in the Tchuktche peninsula--Count Unarliarsky--I am called to Vladivostok to fit out an expedition--Our vessel arrives off Indian Point--Charging through the ice-floes--A meeting with Eskimos--Our prospecting proves fruitless--We meet the rival expedition in Plover Bay--Their chagrin--The end.
The winter following my explorations in Northeast Siberia I spent in the United States, during which time the papers contained frequent reports of rich finds on the Siberian coast, opposite Cape Nome. The company that had employed me still believed that there was gold to be found in this region, and were determined to test the matter thoroughly. The papers stated that the Russian Government had granted to Count Unarliarsky the mining rights to the whole Tchuktche peninsula, which is the extreme northeastern portion of Siberia, between the Anadyr River and the Arctic Ocean. From St. Petersburg we learned that the Count must present the papers of his franchise to the Governor at Anadyr before he could legitimately take possession.
Any claims staked out before that time would be valid, according to Russian law. In order to present his papers before the Governor, the Count would have to wait till navigation opened up late in May, for the town of Anadyr lies far up the river of that name, and is ice-locked till well into the summer.
[Illustration: Russian Miners.]
I received a cablegram to hurry out to Vladivostok, and make ready to start at an hour's notice. It was the intention of our company to charter a steamer for four months, and, with thirty Russian miners, steam with all speed toward the north, make a hasty examination of the beaches in question, and even though there might be American miners there (who would be without Government permission), we were to stake out claims and then hurry to Anadyr and file our papers before the Governor should have so much as heard of the existence of the Count.
In all this we were well within the law, and, as our company had already spent a large sum of money in the work, it was but right to use every legal means to establish a claim to at least a portion of the field.
Through our agent at St. Petersburg we were kept informed of the movements of our rivals. Our agent in San Francisco was instructed to inform me, by cable, as to what steamer the Count chartered, her speed and equipment. Meanwhile I was busy looking up a vessel, and after great difficulty, secured the Russian steamer _Progress_, Captain Gunderson. I provisioned her for six months, filled her up with coal enough for five months' steaming, and by June 3 everything was ready.
The previous day I had received a cablegram from San Francisco, stating that the rival expedition, under the management of Count Bogdanovitch and George D. Roberts, an American mining engineer, would sail from that port on June 6. Their speed was ten knots, and they would stop at Nome and one or two other United States ports. They were in no hurry, and were entirely in ignorance of our existence. Their boat was the _Samoa_, a Puget Sound lumber vessel. We could make eleven knots an hour, and had a slightly shorter route to follow than they. Furthermore, _we knew_, and they did not. We learned that at Plover Bay, on the Russian side, they were to meet a Russian gun-boat named the _Yakut_, which would help to drive away any American miners who might surreptitiously have opened up claims on the Siberian side.
Of these rumor said that there were some three thousand.
At five o'clock in the afternoon of June 3 we turned our prow seaward, but, after going a hundred yards, a bolt gave way in the engine, and we had to lay up for repairs. I chafed at the enforced delay, but the next morning we were off. Before we had cleared the entrance of the long, winding bay, we ran into a heavy fog-bank, and, after feeling our way along for a while, we were obliged to drop anchor again. When the fog lifted we found that we had passed within a hundred yards of a rocky promontory, and had escaped only by good luck. It was not till the next day that we reached the open sea, and six days later we were riding at anchor in the harbor of Petropaulovsk. At that point I put off four men to open up a copper vein that I had located the first time I had passed that way. After having filled our water-tanks again, we pushed toward the north. In Bering Sea we found it still cold and foggy, but we kept the vessel up to her eleven knots, even at the risk of suddenly encountering ice. By keeping a sharp lookout and frequently taking the temperature of the water, we lessened the danger as much as possible.
Some of the Russian miners on board were set to work making a large United States flag, with which to decoy natives on board, for they can scarcely be induced to go on board a Russian ship, because of the rough treatment they frequently receive. On June 14 the temperature of the water suddenly dropped from forty to thirty-four degrees, which showed plainly that we were nearing ice. We slowed down, and half an hour later sighted an iceberg through the mist. As our vessel was of steel and without compartments, a very slight blow would put us _hors de combat_, so we took every precaution. There were but two life-boats for a crew of seventy men in all, many of whom would be likely to make trouble in case of accident. The ship's officers and I always had our revolvers handy for any emergency.
On the 16th we arrived off Cape Chaplain, or Indian Point, as the Americans usually call it. Between us and the shore there lay a band of ice at least thirty-five miles broad. We tried to discover an opening in it, but without success. We therefore headed for St.
Lawrence Island, which lies near Bering Strait and belongs to Uncle Sam. As soon as we had cast anchor the natives came off to see us. The men were small but stocky, and looked much like North American Indians. Their women are rather good-looking, but are accustomed to tattoo as soon as they reach the age of womanhood. We found that about two thirds of the tribe were suffering either from the measles or the grippe. The mountains that loomed up in the background were used as burial-places. The dead were laid there, exposed, and the dogs and wild animals soon disposed of them. The higher the rank of the dead man the higher he was placed on the mountain.
Dr. Lorego of the Presbyterian Mission came off to see us, and courteously invited us ashore. It was an invitation that I gladly accepted. Through him I learned from the natives they were unaware that any American miners had landed on the Siberian side.
[Illustration: Picked up on the Ice off St. Lawrence Island.]
As we were about to weigh anchor and go in search of an opening in the ice by which we could reach the Asiatic shore, a steamer loomed up through the fog. She dropped anchor near us, and I found, to my delight, that she was the ex-United States cutter Corwin, which, at that time, belonged to the _Corwin_ Trading Company. On board were several American miners from Nome, who were bound for Indian Point, where they firmly believed gold was to be found. The captain of the _Corwin_ kindly offered to guide us through the ice, and, if necessary, to lend us an ice pilot. I therefore contracted with him, for five hundred dollars, to cut a channel through the ice to Indian Point. We learned that there is always a narrow strip of water between the ice and the shore up and down the coast at that season. As the wind was rising I hurried back to my vessel and asked our captain to make ready to follow the _Corwin_, but within an hour a gale was raging, and the _Corwin_ signaled us to follow her under the shelter of the island.
It was a beautiful sight to see Captain West of the _Corwin_ handle his vessel as easily as though it were a rowboat on a lake. He had spent twenty years in the Arctic seas, and knew his business thoroughly. Before our anchor was fairly up he was steaming away before the gale a mile in advance. We followed him around the point of the island to a sheltered nook, and there dropped anchor to await the cessation of the storm.