The writer before quoted says truly of these people that "their manner of living is slovenly to the last degree; they never wash their hands or face, nor cut their nails; everything about them smells of fish; they never comb their heads, but both men and women plait their hair in two braids; when any hair starts out they sew it in with threads to make it lie close; and, as a result, they have such a quantity of lice that they can scrape them off by handfuls." Time seems not to have weaned them from these disgusting habits.
These people reckon ten months to the year, not by reference to the changes of the moon, but by the order of special occurrences which take place each year, with sufficient regularity for the purpose. The months in their order are: Purifier of Sins, Breaker of Hatchets, Beginning of Heat, Time of the Long Day, Preparing Month, Red-Fish Month, White-Fish Month, Kaiko Fish Month, Great White-Fish Month, and Leaf-Falling Month. Others name them as follows: River-Freezing Month, Hunting Month, Purifier of Sins, Breaker of Hatchets, Long Day Month, Sea Beavers' Puppying Month, Sea Calves' Puppying Month, Tame Deer Foaling Month, Wild Deer Foaling Month, Beginning of Fishing.
A peculiar custom sometimes to be noted among these people is that of drinking a kind of liquor made from a large species of mushroom. The effect is, in some respects, similar to that produced by the use of hashish. At first the imbiber shakes as with the ague; and presently he begins to rave as if in delirium. Some jump and dance and sing, while others cry out as if in agony. A small hole looks to them like a bottomless pit, and a pool of water as broad as the sea. These effects are produced only when the beverage is used to excess; a small quantity has much the same effect as a moderate amount of alcoholic liquor. Curiously enough, after recovering from one of these debauches, they claim that all the antics performed were by command of the mushroom. The use of it is not unattended with danger, for unless a man is well looked after he is likely to destroy himself. The Koraks sometimes take this drug in order to work themselves up to the point of murdering an enemy. Three or four of the mushrooms is a moderate dose, but when one wants to get the full effect one takes ten or twelve.
[Illustration: Chinese Pump.]
When a native resolves to marry he looks out for a bride, not in his own village, but in a neighboring one. When he finds a girl who pleases him, he tells her parents that he is desirous of serving them, and, during this period of probation, he works most industriously in order to make a good impression. At last he asks permission to steal the girl. If his suit is looked upon with disfavor, he is paid for the service he has rendered and sent away, but if he is acceptable to the girl and to her parents and relatives, the permission is given. He then seeks an opportunity of finding the girl alone, which is no easy matter, for she is supposed to be guarded by the women of the village.
Besides, the girl is covered with two or three coats, and is wrapped about with fish-nets and straps, so that motion is almost impossible.
If the young man succeeds in finding her alone, or in company with only one or two women, he seizes her and begins tearing off her garments, for this constitutes the ceremony of marriage. But this is not an easy thing to do; for, though the girl herself makes little resistance, such other women as are about fall upon the would-be groom without mercy, and beat and scratch him and use every means to prevent him from accomplishing his purpose. If, however, he is successful in tearing off her garments, he immediately walks away from her, whereupon she gently calls him back, and the ceremony is complete. It seldom happens that the young man succeeds the first time, and instances are known where a man has tried for several years to secure his bride, without success.
When successful, the groom carries off his bride to his own village without any ceremony; but after some time they return to the bride's home, and a marriage-feast is celebrated, somewhat after the following manner: the bridal party, including the bridegroom's friends, approach to within a hundred paces of the village from which the bride has been taken. They sing and go through certain mystic rites with a fish's head wrapped in tow and carried by an old woman. A coat of sheepskin is put on the bride, and several images are hung about her till she can hardly bear up under the load. A boy of the village comes out and leads the bride in by the hand. When she comes to the hut of her parents, a strap is tied around her, and by this she is let down into the underground house. The fish-head is laid on the floor at the foot of the ladder, and the bride and all who follow step on it, after which it is thrown into the fire. The bride is stripped of all her superfluous ornaments, and the company take their places about the room. The bridegroom builds a fire and prepares the food, which had been brought for the purpose, and entertains the people of the village. The next day, the host entertains the visiting company, after which every one goes home, except the bride and groom, who remain to serve her father for a time.
The dress of the men differs but slightly from that of the women. Both wear the same kind of upper garment, with the skirts either cut off an equal length all around, or with the back part longer than the front.
The women have an under garment which they usually wear at home. It consists of a combination of trousers and waistcoat, the trousers being tied about the leg below the knee, and the waistcoat being tied with a cord. As might be supposed, the covering for feet and ankles is a most important matter in this far northern country. In the summer-time, when the ground is generally one wide marsh, they wear the skins of seals, with the hair turned out, but often make their leggings of the skin of reindeer legs. The very finest foot-wear is made with the sole of white sealskin, and the upper of fine dyed leather from the hind quarters of a white dogskin. The part that incases the calf of the leg is made of dressed leather or dyed sealskin. The tops are always richly embroidered with silk thread. If a young man is adorned with these shoes, immediately it is concluded that he is in search of a wife.
Since the complete conquest of these parts by the Russians war has been practically unknown, but during the process of conquest the natives made a stubborn resistance. They never fought in the open, but always by stratagem. A company of Cossacks, arriving at a village, would be hospitably received, the tribute would be paid, and large presents made in addition; but when all suspicion had been lulled to rest the Cossacks were likely to wake in the night to find themselves in the midst of flames. If any one succeeded in breaking through the flames, a worse fate awaited him; for then he was slowly tortured to death by burning, or cut to pieces and disemboweled while yet alive.
If the natives were in strong force, upon hearing of the approach of the Cossacks they would retire to some high place, which they would strongly fortify and hold as best they could against the invaders. If unable to hold their position, they would first cut the throats of the women and children, and then throw themselves over a precipice, or rush upon the enemy to be ruthlessly cut down.
These people have indistinct notions about a deity, but they render him no homage. On the contrary, they treat his name with the utmost irreverence, and relate stories about him that rival the scandals of Olympus. They blame him for making so many steep hills, so many rapid rivers, and for sending so many storms. Sometimes they raise a pillar in the plain and bind it around with rags, and whenever they pass, throw at it pieces of fish or other food. But it is noted that they give nothing that they can use themselves--only the tails of fish or other refuse. Besides these pillars, there are other places that they reckon sacred, such as smoking mountains, hot springs, and certain forests, all of which they imagine to be inhabited by devils, whom they fear much more than the gods.
A Russian who lived for a long time among these people says of them:
All their beliefs concerning both gods and devils are certainly very simple and ridiculous; however, it shows that they endeavor to account for the existence of everything as far as they are able; and some of them try to penetrate into the thoughts even of the birds and fishes. But when once a belief is established they never trouble themselves with inquiring whether the thing be possible or not. Hence their religion depends entirely upon ancient tradition, which they believe without questioning. They have no notion of a supreme being that influences their happiness or misery, but hold that every man's good or bad fortune depends upon himself. The world, they believe, is eternal, the soul immortal, and that it shall again be joined to the body and live eternally, subject to the same fatigues and troubles as in this present life, with this difference only: that they shall have a greater abundance of all the necessaries of life. Even the smallest animals, they believe, will rise again and dwell under the earth. They think the earth is flat, and that under it there is a firmament like ours; and under that firmament another earth like ours; in which when we have summer they have winter, and when we have winter they have summer. With regard to future rewards and punishments they believe that in the other world the rich will be poor and the poor will be rich.
Their notions of vice and virtue are as extraordinary as those they entertain of God. They believe everything lawful that procures them the satisfaction of their wishes and passions, and think that only is sinful from which they apprehend danger or ruin; so that they reckon neither murder, suicide, or adultery, oppression, nor the like any wickedness: on the contrary, they look upon it as a mortal sin to save any one that is drowning, because, according to their notions, whoever saves such an one will soon be drowned himself. They reckon it likewise a sin to bathe in or to drink hot water, or to go up to the burning mountains.
They worship several animals from which they apprehend danger. They offer fire at the holes of sables and foxes; when fishing they entreat the whales or sea-horses not to overturn their boats; and in hunting they beseech the bears and wolves not to hurt them.
The wandering Koraks are extremely jealous, and sometimes kill their wives upon the merest suspicion. Adultery is punished by the death of both parties. This extreme jealousy on the part of husbands accounts for the fact that the women take no care of their persons, and are always dirty and repulsive. They say that their husbands believe that any attempt at personal adornment would be a sign that they were wavering in their affections, for their husbands can love them without any such adornment. With the Koraks who live in the "hour-glass"
houses the case is reversed, for they are extremely careless of the virtue of their wives and daughters; so much so, that frequently they lend either the one or the other to their guests or special friends. A refusal of this civility they consider the greatest affront.
Among all these tribes, except the Kamchadales, theft is considered reputable so long as one does not steal from people of his own tribe.
When discovered, theft is punished severely, but only because the thief was not clever enough to escape detection. A Tchuktche girl may not marry until she has proved her dexterity in this line. Murder is not looked upon as particularly heinous, unless one kills a fellow-tribesman. In that case the relatives of the dead avenge the crime. Consanguineous marriages are extremely common. A man often takes a cousin, an aunt, or even a mother-in-law as his wife. In fact, any relative except his mother or daughter may become his wife.
As soon as a child is born they set aside for it a number of reindeer, but the child cannot claim them till he has reached maturity. In naming a child, they often go through a certain formality. Having set up two sticks, they tie a string across the top, and from the middle hang a stone. Then they repeat the names of the child's relatives, and, during the course of this recital, should the stone appear to shake or move, the name spoken at that moment is given to the child.
Without doubt the most curious custom among these people is that childbirth is a public function, and the whole village may assemble to witness the event.
The dead are commonly burned. The corpse is dressed in his finest clothes, and drawn to the place of cremation by his favorite deer. A great pile of wood is fired, and into the flames are thrown the dead man's arms and some of his household utensils. After this the deer are killed, and they, together with the man's body, are thrown upon the fire. A year later they bring to the place of cremation two young deer and a large number of deer horns, and, burying the latter, they make a pretense of sending a herd of deer to the dead man for his use in the nether world.
CHAPTER XIV
OFF FOR BERING SEA--THE TCHUKTCHES
The Tchuktches are the Apaches of Siberia--Their hospitality to Americans and their hostility to Russians--Wherein my experiences differ from those of Mr. Harry DeWindt--Result of licking a piece of stone with the thermometer at 45 below zero--Konikly--Power of moral suasion in dealing with a rebellious Korak--The cure of a dying woman and the disgust of her husband--Poll-tax and the Tchuktches.
Immediately upon our arrival at the village of Kaminaw I began looking about for dog-teams to take me on the long trip around by the shore of Bering Sea. I found it very difficult to get good dogs there, but after four days of patient search I secured two strong young natives, each with a team of twelve dogs. I contracted with them to accompany me all the way from that point, a distance of over fifteen hundred miles, for fifty pounds of tobacco and twenty pounds of sugar, all of which I paid in advance.
Thus equipped I left Kaminaw, and pushed toward the northeast, following the line of mountains, and examining the rivers and creeks, the canons and the gulches for the precious metal. We generally found Korak villages in which to lodge, but we suffered greatly with the excessive cold. Not infrequently we had to go without any fire at all, and at such times we found raw meat preferable to empty stomachs.
The next few weeks we worked our way toward the coast, one day succeeding another in the monotonous iteration of camping and breaking camp, and digging down into bed-rock in a fruitless search for paying gold. As we approached the coast for the first time, we fell in with members of the Tchuktche tribe. This name is generally spelled Tchou-tchour, but I found the name invariably pronounced T'chuk-tche, the apostrophe signifying that the initial T is pronounced separately.
These people are generally supposed to be a rather ugly lot, and the Russians have never been able to subdue them as they have the other Siberian tribes. They are the Apaches of Siberia, and when attacked they retire to their mountain fastnesses, where it is next to impossible to reach them. They are purely nomadic, and subsist solely upon their immense herds of reindeer. They are much taller and broader in the shoulder than is characteristic of any of the other tribes that I have seen. Many of them stand five feet and eleven inches. The women, too, are tall and well-formed.
I had been warned by the Russian authorities at Ghijiga to be on my guard when I fell in with these fierce people, but I found the warning entirely unnecessary. They had a clear knowledge of the difference between a Russian and an American. Their preference for the American lies in the fact that the Russians have tried to make them pay tribute, and have carried on a desultory war with them for fifty years, while the American whalers bring them articles of trade of which they stand in need. They took the greatest interest in me, and did everything in their power to make me comfortable. In their sledges they would take me on long drives up the water-courses to look for gold, and in countless other ways showed their good will. They were the only people in Siberia with whom we could not bargain for meat or transport. They simply would not listen to my offers of pay, and it was only with difficulty that I could get them to take presents of tobacco or tea. They smilingly told me that I had better keep all those things till I went south into Kamchatka, "where all the people are thieves." I felt so safe among the Tchuktches that never once did I take my guns from the pack and bring them into the tent with me.
One instance will illustrate the manner in which these good people treated me. At one point I had to take a three-days' trip over the mountains. It required twenty-five reindeer and five drivers. The village chief insisted on carrying my baggage, leaving my dog-teams to come on behind, unloaded. For this service I succeeded in making him take twenty cartridges.
[Illustration: One of the Tchuktches--an unconquered Race.]
Mr. Harry DeWindt crossed over from the American side, and reported later that he had been captured by the natives, and, after undergoing great hardships, was rescued by a man-of-war. In view of my experiences among this people it is very difficult to understand the treatment that Mr. DeWindt received. I traveled all along the coast to the same places visited by him, and was always treated as an honored guest by the natives. On the whole, they are the finest race of savages that it has ever been my lot to meet.
The trip had been barren of results, as far as gold was concerned. Not long after leaving Kaminaw I struck a sandstone formation, and lost all traces of the yellow metal. And now I was approaching the coast, though I had not as yet caught sight of it. On the eighth of March we reached the foot of a range, and one of the Koraks, pointing to a distant summit, said that from that point we would be able to see the ocean. With renewed courage we pushed on. Each of the dogs wore on his feet soft deerskin moccasins, and the teams were being very carefully handled, for they were sadly worn by the long journey. They now needed constant urging. We no longer rode on the sledges, but walked beside them, pulling on the bow to relieve the dogs. When the hills were too steep, we had to double up the teams and make two trips, which lengthened the journey materially. During this period I was compelled to keep my beard trimmed close to my face, because I found, by hard experience, that my mustache would freeze down to my beard in such fashion that I had a mass of ice depending from my face, which had frequently to be cut away with a knife. In ordinary cold weather a beard is a protection from the cold, but under those circumstances I found that it added greatly to my discomfort.
Natives will pay more for short-haired dogs, for, in the case of the long-haired dog, the moist breath, as it flows back from his nostrils, soon covers him with a mass of icicles. With the short-haired dog this is impossible.
One day, shortly before we reached the coast, we camped at noon, and, about half a mile away, I saw a peculiar outcrop of white rock.
Thinking that it might be worth prospecting, I put on my snow-shoes and walked over to it, while the men were getting dinner ready. The thermometer stood at forty-five below zero. I found that there was only a soda-like incrustation on the rock. And then, without thinking of the after effects, I took up a piece, about two pounds in weight, and put it to my mouth to taste it. Of course my tongue stuck to it, and an excruciating pain shot through that organ. I had taken a generous lick, and the whole surface of my tongue was fastened firmly to the stone. I managed to get back to the camp, still holding the stone to my face. For a moment, the men gazed at me in wonder; then one of them hurried to bring a kettle of warm water, which he attempted to dash in my face, but it did not reach the right spot. For what he next did I shall be grateful always. He took a large mouthful of the warm water, and then, with careful aim, squirted it between the stone and my face, and we soon had the encumbrance removed. With it came away a piece of the skin of my tongue, as large as a silver quarter. This escapade was wholly inexcusable, as I had already had sad experience in handling naked guns with bare, moist hands, and all my weapons were wrapped in buckskin, with only the sights exposed.
Our teams were now so exhausted that several of the dogs dropped out entirely, to crawl along after us as best they might. Looking back, from time to time, I could see them trying desperately to keep up, for they seemed to know that their only chance of life was to reach the camp before night, to get some of the dog-food, which was running very low. They were quite useless in the collar, for they not only did not draw, but held back the other dogs who were able to pull. I had started with fourteen good, strong animals, but now was reduced to eight; and even these looked like skeletons. However, these eight were game to the backbone, and would pull till they fell dead in the harness. "Old Red," still my right-hand dog, would occasionally look over his shoulder with pitiful eyes when I called, "Hyuk, hyuk!" and then he would put down his head and strain at his collar, while his breath came in coughing gasps. The ravens followed us for the last five days, seeming to know that if the dogs gave out they would have a feast. As for us men, we were in no danger, for we could easily have walked to the coast.
At last, one memorable day, we dragged ourselves to that last summit, and there, before us, were the waters of the sea, stretching out far to the east, with the pack-ice extending fifteen miles out from the shore. Below us, ten miles away, we could see the black dots that stood for the "hour-glass" huts, where we knew there was warmth, food, and rest for ourselves and our dogs. Since that day I have been able to sympathize keenly with Xenophon and his ten thousand, when they caught sight of the waters of the Euxine, and raised that glad shout of "Thalassa, thalassa!"
[Illustration: Summit of Kamchatka--First Sight of Bering Sea.]
Though the dogs were very weak and worn, we went in with a rush, as usual. But the moment we stopped, the poor fellows dropped in their tracks and went to sleep, without a thought of food. Their utter exhaustion was due to the fact that for the last ten days we had been crossing a stretch of uninhabited country, and it had been impossible to secure for them the necessary amount of food.
We were much relieved to find ourselves once more in "civilization,"
and we were in no hurry to move on. The people received us so hospitably, and with such genuine kindness, that we spent a week with them, resting and getting the dogs into condition again. Every day we were regaled with frozen fish, dried fish, dainty bits of walrus blubber, and frozen blueberries.
Some of the people of this tribe have curly hair, a thing that I had not seen before in Siberia. They speak with one of those peculiar "clicks" that are so baffling to the Western tongue, and which I had always supposed were confined to the languages of Africa.
The village was composed of a mixed race in whose veins was mingled Tchuktche, Korak, and Kamchatkan blood, in about equal proportions.
On our second day there I was glad to see the dogs that had dropped behind dragging themselves in. They were tied up in their old places, and fed generously on seal blubber and hot fish-soup, which might be called a kind of fish and oil chowder. They were all suffering badly from the need of fatty foods, and it was interesting to see the avidity with which they would bolt huge pieces of clear blubber. At the end of our week of rest, they were all fat again, their feet were healed up, and they were eager for the road once more. Some of the dogs that had shown less endurance than the others were traded off and better ones secured. The best medium of exchange seemed to be the little skeins of sewing-silk which I had been careful to bring. Skeins that were bought in Vladivostok for two and a half cents apiece readily brought a dollar here. I would have sold it cheaper, but they pushed the price of the dogs up from five dollars to twenty, and I was obliged to follow suit. The silk was in all the colors of the rainbow; it was a study to see the faces of these natives as they devoured the gaudy stuff with their eyes, especially the women. They use the silk to embroider the bottoms of their fur cloaks, some of which are true works of art. Traders have been known to pay as high as two hundred dollars for a single coat. The amount of needlework on them is simply enormous. Sometimes they cut out little pieces of skin a quarter of an inch square, of all colors and shades, and make a genuine mosaic of them, and around the bottom of each garment is a wide fringe of silk.
The natives laughed at the prices that I asked, and good-naturedly expostulated with me, saying that they could get the same thing in Ghijiga much cheaper; to which I laughingly answered that they were at liberty to go and get it. Whenever I left a house, I presented the women each with a few needles, which in that country is a very substantial tip.
This village was not composed of pure Tchuktches, and these mongrel people are looked down upon by the clean Tchuktche stock, who frequently raid them and carry off their best-looking women.
It was now my purpose to turn south along the coast, and examine the beach sands and the rivers running into Bering Sea, as far down as the neck of the Kamchatkan peninsula, or Baron Koff Bay. As I was still in a sandstone country, there seemed little likelihood of finding gold in the beach sands, and unless the geologic formation changed as I went south, I should push right on without stopping, except to rest.
Bidding good-by to the friends who had treated us so kindly, we set out one morning, on our way southward, keeping to the smooth snow just above the beach line. Once, and only once, I tried to shorten the journey by crossing an arm of the sea on the ice. Here I had my first taste of what it must be like to attempt to reach the Pole across the frozen sea. Not once could I go fifty feet in a straight line. It was an unspeakable jumble of hummocks and crevasses. We covered eight arduous miles that day, and the dogs were so exhausted that we had to stop two days to recuperate. Time and again, that miserable day, I got into the water up to my waist, which necessitated an immediate change of clothes. About once an hour the dogs would fall into the water and have to be hauled out, after which a tedious detour would be made to find a more likely route across the wilderness of ice.
The sixth day out we reached Baron Koff Bay. It is a long, narrow inlet lying southeast and northwest; and at its head I found the little Korak village where it was decided that I should secure a guide to take me to the sulphur deposits, which were supposed to exist in an extinct volcano in the vicinity. These people were of the same mixed blood as those of the village I had so lately left, but they did not live in the hour-glass houses. They simply had the underground room, with a hole leading down into it. The one I entered was fifteen feet wide by ten in height.
[Illustration: Kassegan, half-caste Russian trader, and Korak wife, living at Boeta, Baron Koff Bay, Kamchatka.]