The young mother directed her children to stay with Anya before dashing off the gangplank to retrieve a small trunk. It certainly was small. Anya doubted it held much in the way of essentials including food. The woman had a bag as well. Anya hoped there were foodstuffs in the bag at least.
"Thank you again missus. Where shall I put the trunk? I would not wish to inconvenience you." The young mother panted out.
The two children, both boys, stood silently watching. The oldest one was perhaps six the other four.
"I think as far back against the ship as possible would be best. It would be a shame if it were to slide across the deck and be lost."
"Yes ma'am, it would. It has all our possessions in it. I am to meet my husband in Ilimsk. This was all I was able to bring."
"Unfortunate." Anya nodded.
Up until this moment she had not needed to give a name. She would certainly need to do so now. The young mother was looking at her expectantly. Anya decided to use her sister's name.
"Call me Alexis, please. And you are?"
"Gavrilla, my two sons, Andrey, the oldest and Timofey."
Anya nodded to the boys. Smoothing out the blankets, she rearranged the nest so all four of them could be comfortable. "Sit. Until they are under way, we should stay out from underfoot. The steward warned me quite sternly."
Gavrilla nodded. She spoke quietly to the boys who immediately lay down on the blankets and closed their eyes.
"They did not sleep well last night. We were on the top floor over a tavern. There was much carrying on. I think someone was spending too much gold on celebrating."
"I thought it might be that way, so I camped out in the forest." Anya said.
Gavrilla glanced at her questioningly. "But there are animals in the forest. Dangerous ones, I was told."
"Perhaps, but not nearly as dangerous as some of the men in Yeniseysk, I am certain. None the less, we are both here. The ship is now going to take us up the river"
The whistle of the riverboat tooted its all clear before the paddle wheel began churning up the water. They were on their way.
Samuel put the small valise on the cast iron table in Leontine's garden. He glanced around at Dmitri, Camille and Leontine.
"Sam, you open it." Leontine murmured.
"Shall I?" He stared at Dmitri for a moment.
"Please, Samuel. If you would."
Dmitri stood with his hands in his pockets making no move toward the overnight bag. Devins took a deep breath before unhooking the latch. He opened the bag then looked inside.
"What is this? This is all they have!" The older man exclaimed with a frown,
Dmitri crossed to Samuel's side and peered over Devins' shoulder into the bag. Inside was the blood spattered marriage certificate along with a small piece of paper. The paper appeared to be smeared with what looked to Dmitri, to be a bloody handprint.
"That cannot be Anya's hand print. It is far too large."
Samuel nodded his head in agreement. "And, there is hardly any blood."
"Here!" Leontine pushed in beside her husband. "Let me see. Camille! Look at this! I do not know what I expected, but certainly not this."
Camille came around to the other side of the table to stare into the open valise.
"There is more blood to be had from butchering a chicken than this. What does this mean? What went on here?"
Dmitri sat heavily in one of the cast iron yard chairs. "I do not believe this means she is dead. I did not want to believe it before, now I cannot!"
Leontine was leaning heavily on the back of one of the chairs.
Samuel pulled out another for her. "Here, Leontine, sit down."
He reached into the bag then drew out the small sheet of paper. "I do wish we could read this. Dmitri, do you know of anything that might remove the stains?"
Dmitri shook his head. "Camille, Leontine, do either of you know anything which might remove this?" He gestured at the paper in Samuel's hand.
Both women were silent for a moment.
"We might soak it in cold water, but that could destroy the entire thing." Leontine shook her head.
"The paper might hold up if we soaked it, but the ink could be rinsed off as well." Camille closed her eyes lost in thought. "Let us think about this gentlemen. In the meanwhile, what are we to do here?"
Dmitri rose and began to pace. He waved his hands around as he thought. Then, he spoke. "No, we are not having a funeral, nor a memorial service."
Taking a cigar from his pocket, the tall man began to fiddle with it. "There is something wrong about this. I think young Keetering rushed to an erroneous judgment."
Samuel sat in the chair Dmitri vacated. "But, it appears everyone in the ligation agreed with him. Is there any way for us to change their decision?"
Dmitri closed his good eye as he stood thinking. "At the moment we need proof. I do not think we have anything the authorities would consider proof."
"Unfortunately, I suspect you are correct." Devins plucked something from his sleeve and tossed it to the ground. "We are just her family. If we question this without a valid reason, we are only grief stricken relations unable to come to terms with her death."
Dmitri stopped pacing. He sat astride the remaining chair with his arms over its back. "I still have a few friends in Russia."
"Dmitri!" Camille interjected. "You are not going there. You promised me!"
He held up one hand. "I do not have to go there to contact a few friends in order see what can be discovered. In particular, one old family friend may be in a position to ask a few questions."
"That is an idea. Why did no one think of it before?" Camille looked at Dmitri.
"Because unfortunately, we all allowed ourselves to be rushed along on a tide of emotion. The only defense I have is that of a father." The Count rubbed a hand across his face. "My heart went before my head. I need to send a telegram to Russia tomorrow. I do not expect an immediate answer."
He shrugged. "We will hear something from my friend eventually."
Anya was enjoying the trip up river. The constant breeze of their passage drove even the hardiest bug away. That evening, when they were preparing to bed down, she discovered Gavrilla and the children had no bedding. Anya used the two wool blankets she had purchased to cover the boys. Gavrilla was quite grateful for her kindness.
"Thank you missus. I just did not have sufficient to house us and purchase extras."
"You are on you way to meet with your husband. Am I correct in thinking he has been exiled to Siberia?" Anya asked the other woman.
Gavrilla ducked her head. Anya noted her ears turned very red. "I am afraid so missus. He swears he did nothing," She rubbed her hands over her upper arms. "I believe him. It is enough these days to simply be accused of knowing the wrong people."
Anya agreed for reasons she was going to keep to herself. "So it would seem. I myself, am joining my son, who is here for the same reason."
"They need people to settle Siberia. I think it is another reason to exile anyone and everyone." Gavrilla continued to rub her hands over her upper arms. Anya passed her one of the old blankets.
"Ah, missus! I could not take your bedding. You are so thin, you will surely need them to keep warm."
Anya looked at the arm holding the blanket out to Gavrilla. She had not realized she had indeed lost several pounds.
"Here. Take it. I still have my goatskin. That along with the other blanket will do."
Gavrilla took the offered blanket with a smile. "I am very grateful missus. If I can ever do anything for you, you have only to ask."
Once during the twilight of evening, Anya awoke. She looked around her. A loud clatter on deck had disturbed her sleep.
A discussion in Russian was going on between the men on watch. They had narrowly missed a large snag floating down river. It had not occurred to her that they could collide with anything in the middle of the river. Anya added a new concern to river travel, uprooted trees traveling downstream.
> The captain had a difficult job. It was necessary to not waste one moment of the summer in the rush to provision the various towns in the territory. Nor would it do to hole the vessel and lose cargo or passengers either. These river men were a tough, determined bunch.
The breeze increased as the sky grew lighter. By mid day the wind was howling. Stinging rain occasionally swept across the vessel. The wind gusts were coming from a south easterly direction, hitting the hull of the riverboat broadside.
The vessel had a difficult time maintaining headway. Each blast of wind caused the boat to shudder. A times the paddle wheel cavitated, as it caught air instead of water.
The motion of the ship was causing some of the passengers great discomfort, among them Gavrilla and the two small boys. Anya was forced to unpack the two copper kettles for them to use, as all three were violently ill. Using the kettles kept them from having to cling to the rail, dangerously close to the water.
She mopped their faces and emptied the kettles throughout the day. Toward evening, the deck hand on watch shouted a warning. The ship was on a collision course with a great log. Anya braced herself across the narrow entrance to their space between the two huge crates. She prayed the load did not shift.
The helmsman swung the ship to one side. A horrid grating squeal commenced as the huge tree went down the length of the ship. Branches and roots like a rain of spears, raked the ship as the snag continued down river.
Anya prayed the hull would hold. The ship's hull made cracking noises as the last of the deadly root system of the tree raked the deck. One deck hand gave a scream of pain. He was impaled on a short length of root, which had rammed into his thigh. Another seaman was able to pull him free before the snag crashed past as it cleared the stern of the vessel.
Anya could see the injured man was bleeding profusely. The deck hand made no further outcry but with the help of his rescuer, was hobbling up the deck. Anya reached out to grab the hand of the injured man.
"Wait! We must get the bleeding stopped now!"
The other man nodded and lowered the injured man gently to the deck. "I will get the steward." The man called as he jogged away.
She did not wish to be brought to the attention of the steward, but blood was pouring from the gash in the injured man's leg. Anya reached for her pack. She took out the bundle of herbs and the length of green wool cloth.
The steward appeared next to her and dropped down to the deck on the other side of the injured man. "We should get him inside."
Anya shook her head as she passed the steward a small amount of dried leaves. "We need to slow the bleeding."
Anya made a pad of the wool cloth as she nodded to the leaves she had handed the steward. "Crush those as fine as you can and sprinkle them on the wound."
He did as instructed.
Anya put the pad she had torn from the cloth on the gash. "Hold this in place please."
Digging into her pack, Anya searched for the old scissors and her linen twine. "It is too large to close easily and so..." Anya cut a length of twine. With a fingernail she teased a thread loose from the twisted strands. "we must stitch this closed."
"Missus, do you know what you are doing here?" The steward asked in a quiet voice.
"I do. I come from a long line of fur hunters. We often have to take care of our own."
As the steward applied pressure to the wound with the pad, Anya found one of her needles. She threaded it with the length of linen. Taking a pinch of salt from her store of herbs, she placed in the palm of her hand. With a dab of saliva she moistened it and ran the thread through the salt solution.
Looking into the face of the man lying silently on the deck, Anya stared into his dark eyes. "This will hurt."
He did not speak and for the first time Anya realized the deck hand was either a half breed or entirely native.
"You must hold still." She cautioned.
He only nodded.
She instructed the steward to lift the pad and hold the sides of the wound together. It was difficult work getting the thin needle through the tough skin of the man who lay quietly as she stitched the wound closed.
With each stitch, she had to worry the needle a bit to be able to pull it through his skin. She made three stitches before clipping the thread. Anya smeared a bit of the salt solution over the wound. Taking another pinch of herbs from her stores, Anya rolled them between her palms, creating a rough powder. She spread the herbs on the still seeping gash.
The original pad was soaked with blood and of no further use. She cut a new pad from the wool. Wrapping his leg with a strip of the fabric, Anya bound the dressing on. She knew the wool with all its small fibers was not the best thing to use, but it would do for now.
"Have you any dressings and bandages or muslin?" She asked the steward. "This will need to be changed later."
"Yes, missus. Perhaps he should stay here near you for a while?" He suggested.
She nodded her consent. There was no reason to move him at the moment.
"I will bring you bandages and his blanket."
The steward left on his errand. The man raised up on one elbow to look at Anya. "My thanks. He is happy to be relieved of the burden of caring for one such as myself."
"I understand." She wiped the scissors and returned them, along with the other items, to her pack. "The long line of fur hunters I come from, is a very old one."
Anya knew he would not understand the words, he would understand the import.
In Tlingit she said to him. "I am the daughter of the raven."
There was a slight relaxing of the set face. He responded in a language she did not recognize but they both understood what the other had conveyed. Then he spoke to her in Russian.
"Yours is a dialect I have not heard before. I have been up and down this river and on the Lena, as well, many times."
Anya leaned down to speak in a whisper for his hearing only. "It is from Alaska, where I am bound. It is my home."
"We shall talk more of this." He said quietly before closing his eyes to rest.
Anya felt a thrill of hope. He had traveled on the Lena. This could be the opportunity she was hoping for. Anya was glad she helped the man. When the steward returned with the blanket and bandages, she learned her patient was named Naum.
By the next day the wind had died. Gavrilla and the children were feeling better. The two little boys were tired of being confined to their tiny section of deck. Gavrilla still looked a bit pale, but knew the children must be watched. The young mother took the children on a walk around the deck. Both boys were eager to be exploring.
As the small family moved off toward the stern of the vessel, Anya prepared to clean and redress the deck hand's wound. Naum watched as she did so, raising himself up on one elbow in order to see. He spoke quietly so as not to be heard over the noise of the ship.
"How did you come to be here?" He asked in slightly accented Russian.
"An enemy of my family took me away from them."
She intended to change the wool pad for a clean bandage. First the woolen threads would need to be removed. Carefully, she lifted a few threads stuck to the wound by moistening them and using the tip of a needle to dislodge the fibers.
"He did not know the forest of this land is much like that of my home. We have less land however and much more water. We are equally at home on the sea and land."
Naum did not make a sound as she worked on his leg. Only a twitch of his muscular leg told of the pain he felt when she had to wiggle a particularly difficult strand loose.
"There are ones much the same over near the Kolyma River. The Russians call them Chukchi. The Chauchu are the branch my grandfather most often traded with. They are the reindeer herders. The Anqallyt are the sea people. Of course they refer to themselves as Luoravetlan, the true people."
Anya laughed. "My people and yours are likely the "people" also."
"True." He chuckled.
"Tell me, this sewing you have done on my leg, is it to remai
n in?"
"When the stitches begin to pull in the skin, you should cut them away." She replied while bandaging his leg with a bit of muslin and a new pad.
"You will be fine in a few days." Anya brought the subject back to the Chauchu. "Do they speak Russian, the others you spoke of?"
"Some of them do, as missionaries have been in the area for a few years. Some of the outlying families are still quite hostile to the Russians. So you will need to be cautious when approaching them. Now and again Americans and others come to trade for furs. The Russians are trying to put a stop to that. They have patrols and forts."
He spread out his hands. "One can get through, but must be careful. There is another way."
He paused as he looked intently at her. "I have a distant kinsman near Yakutsk. He and a partner take goods over the mountains by packhorse to Okhotsk in the summer. They use reindeer and sleds in the early winter. If one can get over to the Aleuts on the Commander Islands, they may be able to get you to your destination. Sometimes they come to trade at Okhotsk."
"How do you know so much about this?" She asked Naum as she sat back on her heels.
"My family have been traders," He shrugged. "for as long as your family have been fur hunters."
"I will give you the name of my kinsman. He will be able to help you. Tell him what happened here. He will get you to Okhotsk and may have a name for you from there."
Anya left him to rest on the deck and scooted back inside her little shelter between the two crates. She had much to think about. If his information was sound and she felt it was, she would need to be very cautious indeed. But she might be able to reach home sooner with help from his kinsman.
Naum went back to his duties the next day. He was limping, but seemed to be well enough. The weather held, allowing them to make good time up river according to the deck hand.
Anya did her best to avoid the steward. The man thanked her for her quick action. But, she noticed him watching her carefully from a distance once. His duties kept him too busy to bother with her and Anya was happy to be left alone. She could not wait to get to Ilimsk. Anya needed to get off the ship before the steward began to question her.
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