by G. A. Henty
Now they were on the Yenesei Luka was on his native river, though his home was fully a thousand miles higher up. Godfrey had at first proposed that he should disembark here and make his way up the banks home, but the offer filled Luka with indignation.
“What are you going to do without me?” he asked. “You can talk a little Tartar, quite enough to get on among my people, but how could you get on with the Ostjaks? Besides, even if I were to leave you, and I would rather die than do that, I could not go to my home, for in my native village I should be at once arrested and sent back to the mines. I might live among other Tartars, but what good would that be? They would be strangers to me. Why should I leave you, who have been more than a brother to me, to go among strangers? No, wherever you go I shall go with you, and when you get to your own land I shall be your servant. You can beat me if you like, but I will not leave you. Did you not, for my sake, strike down the man in the prison? Did you not take me with you, and have you not brought me hither? What could I have done alone? If you are tired of me shoot me, but as long as I live I will not leave you.”
Godfrey hastened to assure Luka that he had only spoken for his good, that he was well aware that without him he should have little chance of getting through the winter, and that nothing therefore was farther from his thoughts than to separate himself from him if he was willing to remain. It was some time before Luka was pacified, but when he at last saw that Godfrey had no intention whatever of leaving him behind if he were willing to go with him, he recovered his spirits and entered into the discussion as to where they had better winter. He had never been below the town of Yeneseisk, but he knew that the Ostjaks were to be found fully a thousand miles below that town, especially on the left bank of the river, but below that, and all along the right bank, the Tunguses and Yuraks were the principal tribes. It was finally agreed that they should keep on for at least eight hundred miles beyond Yeneseisk, and then haul up their boat and camp at some Ostjak village, and there remain through the winter.
“We will get at Yeneseisk whatever you think the Ostjak will prize most—knives and beads for the women, and some cheap trinkets and looking-glasses. Some small hatchets, too, would probably be valued.”
“Yes,” Luka said, “Ostjaks have told me that their kindred far down the river were more like the people to the extreme north by the sea. They are pagans there, and not like us to the south. They have reindeer which draw their sledges. They are very poor and know nothing. From them we can get furs, but we can buy goat-skins and sheep-skins at Yeneseisk.”
“We shall have to depend upon them for food,” Godfrey said.
“Why, we can get food for ourselves,” Luka said somewhat indignantly. “When the cold begins, before the river freezes, we shall get great quantities of fish. They will freeze hard, and last till spring. Then, too, the river will be covered with birds. We shall shoot as many as we can of these, and freeze them too. Flour we must take with us, but flour is very cheap at Yeneseisk. Corn will not grow there, but they bring it down in great boats from the upper river.”
“But how do they get the boats back, Luka?”
“They do not get them back; they break them up for firewood. Firewood is dear at Yeneseisk, and they get much more for the barges for fires than it cost to build them in the forests higher up.”
“Then how do they do for fires among the Ostjaks?”
“I have heard they do not have wood fires; they kill seals. There are numbers of them farther down the river, and from their fat they make oil for lamps and burn these. We shall be in no hurry as we go down. We will float near the banks, and may kill some seals. What are you thinking of?” for Godfrey was looking rather serious.
“I was thinking, Luka, that these things we are thinking of buying, the things to trade with the Ostjaks, you know, and the flour, and tea, and goat-skins, and so on, will take a good deal of money. We don’t spend much now, but when we get into Russia we shall want money. We can’t beg our way right across the country.”
“No;” Luka said, “but we shall not be idle all the winter.”
“How do you mean we shall not be idle, Luka?”
“We must hunt; that is what the Ostjaks and Tunguses do. We must get skins of beaver, sable, ermine, and black foxes, and we must sell them at Turukhansk. There are Russian traders there. They do not live there in the winter, but come down in the spring to buy the skins that have been taken in the winter.”
“That sounds more cheerful,” Godfrey said. “You had better get another flask of powder, and some more bullets and shot for me, Luka, and some better arrow-heads for yourself.”
“Yes, we shall want them more than anything. We can do without flour, but we cannot do without weapons.”
“Well, you must do the buying, Luka. They will take you for an Ostjak, from some village up the river, who has come in to lay in his stock of provisions for the winter. It is of no use my trying to pass here as a native, though in Russia I might be taken as a Russian.”
CHAPTER XII
WINTER
A few hours after entering the Yenesei they saw on the right bank of the river, which was now of great width, the domes of the town. They ran in to the shore a mile above it.
“I shall not land, Luka,” Godfrey said. “I don’t want to be questioned. I shall put off, and drop our anchor a quarter of a mile out and fish. You must make two or three journeys if necessary.”
“The things will not be heavy, Godfrey, the flour is the only thing that will weigh much. I will get someone to help me down with that.”
They had already gone over and over again the list of purchases to be made.
“I shall drop down a little nearer the town, Luka, when I think it is about time for you to be coming back, so you won’t have so far to carry the things. Don’t be more than three hours whether you have got anything or not, or I shall begin to feel anxious about you.”
Luka nodded, and went off. Godfrey paddled the boat out a short distance, let down the stone, and began to fish. He was under no real uneasiness as to the young Tartar, there was nothing about him to distinguish him from other natives, and as these would be about this time arriving in considerable numbers at Yeneseisk to sell the skins of the animals they had taken in the chase during the summer, and to lay in stores for the winter, it was unlikely in the extreme that anyone would even question him. Such indeed was the case. There were numbers of natives in the stores of the Russian traders, and he made his purchases without any question whatever being asked. He bought rather more hatchets, knives, and trinkets than they had agreed upon, and two sacks of flour, although he deemed the latter to be a luxury that they could very well dispense with altogether. Godfrey was just thinking of taking up his anchor and going down towards the town when he saw him returning, accompanied by two natives carrying the sacks. He pulled up his anchor and paddled to shore. “Have you got everything, Luka?” he asked.
“Everything—powder, shot, and balls; tea, salt; ten knives, and eight axes; beads, four goat-skins, looking-glasses, tobacco, and flour;” and one by one he handed the articles as he named them into the boat.
“How much flour is there, Luka?”
“Two hundred pounds. I have got more trinkets than we said. They were very cheap. They look like gold and silver, and only cost ten kopecks apiece. I have also brought two bottles of vodka.”
“That is bad, Luka.”
“The two only cost a rouble,” Luka said calmly; “they may be very useful to us; and I bought more tea and tobacco than we said.”
The men who had carried the flour had received a few kopecks for their trouble, and had gone off as soon as they had laid down their burdens. Directly the things were handed into the boat, Luka stepped in and they pushed off into the stream.
“I have bought plenty of arrow-heads, and two steel spear heads and shafts.”
“I wondered what those short poles were.”
“They are of tough wood and the right length, ten feet long. They are good for
seal-hunting and for bears.”
“Well, I think you have done capitally, Luka. You have made the money go a long way. I suppose you have spent the hundred roubles you took with you?”
“I have four left. I think I have done very well. We have everything we shall want through the winter.”
“Well, we are fairly off for the north now,” Godfrey said, in high spirits that everything was settled, and that for eight months at least there would not be the slightest risk of meeting with a Russian policeman or soldier. “Hurrah for the north, Luka, and for shooting and adventures!”
Luka smiled. It was rarely he laughed, but he was always ready to smile when Godfrey addressed him.
“The air feels brisk and cold to-day. We shall soon have winter upon us.”
“Yes; look there!” Luka said, pointing into the air ahead of them.
“What is it? It looks like a long black streak.”
“Geese,” Luka said. “It is a flight of wild geese from the north.”
As it approached Godfrey saw that the Tartar was right. A solitary bird led the way, two followed him closely, then came rank after rank widening out till it was a broad band of fully fifty abreast. Line after line they followed in almost military array, and extending in length fully a quarter of a mile.
“Why, there must be thirty or forty thousand of them there,” he exclaimed in amazement.
“You will see bigger flocks than that,” Luka said. “Why, all the river, from Minusinsk down to Turukhansk, more than 2000 miles, is well-nigh covered with birds. We shall have no lack of meat presently.”
During the day many flights similar to those first seen passed overhead, some larger, some containing only a score or two birds. The next day the numbers were still larger, whole battalions coming along almost incessantly. These were by no means confined to geese. There were gulls and swans, flocks of small birds of many kinds, flights of wild ducks—the latter, for the most part, flying much lower than the geese, which kept far overhead.
“We had better land to-night,” Luka said. “They fly close after dark, and the flocks will settle on the banks. We will shoot them as they come overhead. You may not see them well, but they are so thick that you can hardly miss them.”
Accordingly, when evening came on they landed, fastened the boat, took a couple of sheep-skins each to throw over their shoulders (for even in these two days the cold had sensibly increased), and lay down to await the coming of the birds. All day long the air had been full of their cries, but it had grown quieter now, though occasionally they heard a sharp cry of the leader of a flock, followed by a responsive note from the birds following him. From time to time Godfrey could hear the whirring sound of a multitude of wings as the flocks passed overhead. These became louder as the time went on, and he knew that they were flying lower. He had loaded his gun with heavy shot, and once or twice was disposed to fire, but Luka each time stopped him. “They are much too high yet. They will come close down presently.” The stars were shining brightly, and Godfrey could make out the outlines of the geese as they passed overhead. Presently there was a sharp call a few hundred yards higher up the bank.
“This lot are coming low,” Luka whispered. “They are probably going to settle to feed. Get ready now.”
Godfrey lay with his gun pointed upwards; a minute later he heard the rustling of wings, which rose to a sound like a mighty wind, and then some forty yards overhead a dark cloud of birds swept along across the sky. Godfrey fired one barrel, waited a moment and then fired again. With a loud cry of surprise and alarm the flock divided in two, and almost instantly there were several heavy thuds on the ground close by.
“Hurrah! we have got some of them,” Godfrey said, and leaping up they ran to collect the fallen birds. There were five of them. “That is grand,” he exclaimed in delight.
“Will you shoot some more?” Luka asked.
“No, we have as many as we can eat, Luka, for the next three days at least. It would be a waste of powder and shot to kill more, and worse still, it would be a waste of life. It is right to kill what we require as food, but to my mind there is nothing more wicked than taking life merely for amusement. I consider that we should well deserve any misfortune that might happen to us if we were to kill any one of God’s creatures wantonly. One of our best poets has written:
“‘He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.’
“It makes me furious sometimes, Luka, when I read books of what is called sport, and find men boasting of killing numerous creatures merely for the pleasure of killing them. I feel that nothing would give me greater pleasure than to flog such brutes.”
Luka did not much understand this outburst of indignation, but as usual he grunted an assent, and carrying the birds they returned to the boat.
“It is freezing to-night,” the Tartar said as they stepped in. “I will lay the geese in the bow beyond the cover. They will be frozen by the morning.”
Godfrey was glad of the wrapping of warm furs that night, and even when he shook them off and looked out at sunrise, it was still so chilly that, after he had leaned over the side of the boat as usual, and sluiced his head with water, he was glad to take a paddle and work hard for a bit to keep himself warm.
“Get the fire alight, Luka, and the kettle on,” he said, “and cut up one of those geese. How are you going to get the feathers off? I suppose you will have to pluck them and singe them.”
“It would take much too long that. We can spare the feathers this time.”
So saying, with his knife he made a slight incision down the breast-bone, and then proceeded to tear off the skin, bit by bit, feathers and all.
“That is a quick way,” Godfrey said, “though it doesn’t improve the bird’s appearance; but that is a trifle. Never mind the bread, we shall have to do without that before long, and I feel as hungry as a hunter.”
In a very few minutes the fire was blazing, and portions of the goose frizzling over it, and in twenty minutes the meal was ready. Godfrey thought he had never eaten anything nicer; and the meat being much less rich than that of tame geese, he did very well without bread. For the next three days they made no pause, floating down night and day, the stream varying in speed from five to ten miles an hour. At points where the stream was most rapid, they paddled in towards the bank to avoid the waves raised by the river in its course. The light boat always floated easily over these, but she needed to be kept with her head to them; and Godfrey was afraid that a moment’s carelessness might bring her broadside on to them, and therefore preferred to glide along at a somewhat slower rate near the shore.
The river was now a mile and a half wide. To the left the country was flat, but on the right they could see hills rising far above each other. One or two small trading stations were seen on the right bank, but upon the left they passed only a few clusters of Ostjak yourts. On the right great pine forests came down in places to within a short distance of the river, but these were rarely seen on the left. On the fifth day after leaving Yeneseisk they saw a small trading station on the right bank. This Godfrey, who had got the geography of the river by heart, judged to be Peslovska, because it was one of the few trading stations which was not situated at a point where a tributary stream ran into the Yenesei.
“We are far enough down now, Luka,” he said. “We are not more than two hundred miles from Turukhansk. We will land at the next Ostjak huts we come to, and see if they are disposed to be friendly with us.”
“They will be friendly,” Luka said confidently. “Why not? They are peaceable people, and they know that did they touch strangers they would be punished. There are Russian soldiers at Turukhansk. The Ostjaks are very poor. You have things to give them, and you want nothing of them.”
Twenty miles further they saw a group of seven huts on the left bank ahead of them, and paddling in landed close to them. Three or four canoes, much
smaller than their own lay there, and as they climbed the lofty bank some of the Ostjaks came out from their huts.
“What do you want?” one of them asked abruptly.
“I am travelling with this gentleman, who has come from a far distant country to hunt and to shoot game here in winter. We would like to live beside your village and to hunt with you. You see he has a gun. He has many things as presents, and it will be well for the village where he settles. Here is some tobacco for all,” and Luka handed a small roll of tobacco to each of the men. “We have also some presents for the women,” and he produced two or three looking-glasses, and some rows of large blue and red beads. The women, who were listening in the huts, at once came out.
“It is good,” an old man, who seemed to be the leader of the Ostjaks, said. “Why should not the stranger live here with us and hunt with us if he chooses? He will be welcome. Let us help the strangers.”
The whole of the Ostjaks at once set to work. Godfrey chose a piece of level ground twenty or thirty yards lower down than the huts. He and Luka, aided by some of the men, carried the various articles out of the boat. While they were doing this, the women stuck some poles in the ground round the circle Godfrey had traced, and lashed them together in the middle with some strips of hide. The three large skins were placed against this on the northern side. Then the women paused.
“You had better buy some more large skins if they have got them, Luka. Say that you will give a knife for hides enough to finish the huts with.”
