Kitabı oku: «Some Heroes of Travel, or, Chapters from the History of Geographical Discovery and Enterprise», sayfa 11
Passing the mouth of the Bouchtarma, Mr. Atkinson descended the river to Mount Kamenogorsk. There he found his friend, the Cossack colonel, who provided him with an escort of two stalwart Cossacks, armed with sabre, gun, pistol, and long lance. His party also included an unarmed Cossack driver, and his own attendant. He set out in a light telaga, drawn by three horses, and plunged into the solitude of the Kirghiz steppe, which extends eastward to Nor-Zaisan and southward to the Tarbogatni Mountains. There are many undulations on this vast plain, which in summer affords pasturage for immense herds of horses. While halting on the bank of a dried-up stream to dine, Mr. Atkinson observed in the distance a small column of white smoke, which he supposed to proceed from a Kirghiz aul, or village; but a guide whom he had hired assured him there were no encampments in that direction, and that the smoke issued from burning reeds on the shores of Lake Nor-Zaisan. Thitherward the traveller immediately proceeded; sometimes over rich pastures, at others over a rough tract of ground and stones almost bare of vegetation. After riding a couple of hours, they were able to make out that the steppe was on fire, and that all the reeds were feeding the flame; and in due time they came upon a miserable Kirghiz yourt, or dwelling, inhabited by a dirty Kirghiz woman and four children, three of whom were very ill. She received the stranger, however, with simple hospitality, kindled the fire, and set his kettle on it. In return he made tea for himself and the children, who were lying on a voilock, covered up with skins. He then walked to the summit of a neighbouring hill to gain a view of the burning steppe. The fire was still about ten versts to the east, but was travelling west, and across Mr. Atkinson’s track, extending in breadth some miles across the plain – a great wave of flame, which, accompanied by rolling clouds of smoke, ran swiftly along the ground, consuming the long grass, and reddening the horizon with a lurid glow.
Next morning Mr. Atkinson resumed his journey, passed a Kirghiz aul, and reached the margin of the Nor-Zaisan, but was unable to obtain a glimpse of its waters, owing to the dense masses of tall reeds which completely encircled it. He rode across to the Irtisch, but there too the view was similarly blocked up. There was nothing to be done but to return as quickly as possible to Kochbouchta, and prepare for the expedition into Chinese Tartary, which he had long had in contemplation. A man of irrepressible energy and singularly firm resolution, Mr. Atkinson, when his plans were once formed, lost no time in carrying them into execution. But while the necessary arrangements were being made, he found time to accomplish some short but interesting excursions in the neighbourhood of Kochbouchta, visiting the gold mines, and sketching the romantic scenery of the valley of the Isilksou. At length he was ready for his departure, and with an escort of three Cossacks, his servant, and his own Cossack attendant, he once more crossed the Irtisch, and began his journey across the Kirghiz steppe. All the party were well armed and well mounted, and Mr. Atkinson felt competent to encounter, if need be, half a hundred of the nomadic bandits, if they should attempt to plunder him. His servant, however, manifested so lively a dread of the robbers of the steppes, and so strong a disinclination to a close acquaintance with the Kirghiz, that Mr. Atkinson ordered him back to Ust-Kamenogorsk to await his return, rightly judging that his fears would render him an incumbrance and an impediment rather than a useful auxiliary.
II
The tribes of the Kirghiz nation spread over the Asiatic steppes from the Aral river to the Ala-Tau Mountains. From time immemorial they have been divided into the Great, the Middle, and the Little Hordes. The Great Horde occupies the territory north of the Ala-Tau, extending into China and Tartary. The Middle Horde inhabits the countries lying between the Ischim, the Irtisch, Lake Balkash, and Khokand. The Little, which is by far the most numerous Horde, wanders over the undulating plains bounded by the Yamba and the Ural, over Turkistan (now under Russian rule), and into Siberia. As a whole, the Kirghiz population may be assumed to number about 1,250,000 souls. They are of Turco-Tartaric origin; and, according to Max Müller, Southern Siberia was their mother country. Nominally, they own the supremacy of the Great White Czar on the one side, and of the Chinese Emperor on the other; but their nomadic habits secure their virtual independence. Each tribe is governed by its sultan or chief. Quarrels and blood feuds between the different tribes are of constant occurrence. Many live wholly by brigandage; swooping down suddenly, under cover of night, on the richer auls, or villages, they carry off horses, cattle, and other objects of value, besides men, women, and children, whom they sell into slavery. These nocturnal raids are called barantas.
The yourt, or tent, of the Kirghiz bears a close resemblance to the kibitka of the Kalmucks. One of the better class is thus described: It was formed of willow trellis-work, put together with untanned strips of skin, made into compartments which fold up. It represented a circle of thirty-four feet in diameter, five feet high to the springing of the dome, and twelve feet in the centre. This dome is formed of bent rods of willow, an inch and a quarter in diameter, put into the mortice-holes of a ring about four feet across, which secures the top of the dome, admits light, and lets out the smoke. The lower ends of the willow rods are tied with leathern thongs to the top of the trellis-work at the sides, which renders it quite strong and secure. The whole is then covered with large sheets of voilock, made of wool and camel’s hair, fitting close, so that it is both warm and water-tight. The doorway is formed of a small aperture in the trellis-work, over which hangs a piece of voilock, and closes it. In the daytime this is rolled up and fastened on the roof of the yourt.
The reader will not be surprised to learn that the furniture and fittings of the yourt are remarkable for their simplicity; the Kirghiz having none of the ingenuity of a Robinson Crusoe or the inventiveness of an American backwoodsman. The fire is kindled on the ground in the centre of the yourt. Directly opposite to the door, voilocks are spread; on these stand sundry boxes containing the clothing of the family, pieces of Chinese silk, tea, dried fruits, and ambas of silver (small squares, about two inches and a half long, an inch and a half wide, and three-tenths of an inch thick). Some of the Kirghiz possess large quantities of these ambas, which are carefully hoarded up. Above the boxes are bales of Bokharian and Persian carpets, often of great beauty and value. In another part of the yourt lies the large sack of koumis, or mare’s milk, completely covered up with voilock to keep it warm and promote the fermentation. And near this bag stands a large leathern bottle, sometimes holding four gallons, and frequently enriched with much ornament; as are the small bottles which the horseman carries on his saddle. In another place may be seen the large iron caldron, and the trivet on which it rests when used for cooking in the yourt. There are usually half a dozen Chinese wooden bowls, often beautifully painted and japanned, from which the koumis is drunk; some of them hold three pints, others are still larger. On entering a Kirghiz yourt in summer, each guest is presented with one of these Chinese bowls full of koumis. To return the vessel with any koumis in it is considered impolite, and the rudeness is one of which a good Kirghiz is assuredly never guilty.
The saddles are deposited on the bales of carpets. As the wealthy Kirghiz greatly esteem rich horse trappings, many of these are beautiful and costly. If of Kirghiz workmanship, they are decorated with silver inlaid on iron, in chaste ornamental designs, and are padded with velvet cushions; the bridles, and other parts of the equipment, are covered with small iron plates, similarly inlaid.
Leathern thongs, ropes made of camel’s hair, common saddles, saddle-cloths, and leathern tchimbar hang suspended from the trellis-work. The tchimbar, or trousers, however, are not infrequently made of black velvet, richly embroidered with silk, more especially the back elevation; and they are so large and loose that a Kirghiz, when he rides, can tuck into them the laps of his three or four khalats. As he ties them round his waist with a leathern strap, he presents a most grotesque appearance with the centre part of his person bulging like a great globe, out of which the very diminutive head and legs protrude.
The national dress of the Kirghiz is the khalat, a kind of pelisse, very long and very full, with large sleeves, made of cashmere or silk, and in the most dazzling colours; but the poorer nomad substitutes for this state dress a horse-skin jacket. Breeches fastened below the hips by a girdle of wool or cashmere, high-heeled madder-coloured boots, and a fox-skin cap, rising into a cone on the top, and lined inside with crimson cloth, complete his costume. His weapons are the spear, gun, and axe. The last is a long formidable weapon; the iron head is moderately heavy and sharp; the handle, about four and a half feet long, is secured by a leathern thong round the wrist. It is often richly inlaid with silver. The women wear a high calico head-dress, a part of which falls over the shoulders and covers up the neck; boots of the same make and colour as the men’s, and a long and ample khalat, with, sometimes, a shawl tied round the waist.
The Kirghiz begin to make koumis in April. The mares are milked at five o’clock in the morning and about the same time in the evening, into large leathern pails, which are immediately taken to the yourt, and emptied into the koumis bag. The latter is five to six feet long, with a leathern tube, about four inches in diameter, at one corner, through which the milk is poured into the bag, and the koumis drawn out of it. A wooden instrument, not unlike a churning-staff, is introduced into the bag, for the purpose of frequently agitating the koumis, which is not considered in good condition until after the lapse of twelve to fourteen days. It is drunk in large quantities by such of the Kirghiz as are wealthy enough to keep up a considerable stud of brood mares; and every Kirghiz, rich or poor, slings his koumis bottle to his saddle in summer, and loses no opportunity of replenishing it at the different auls he visits.
In crossing the steppe, Mr. Atkinson fell in with the aul of Mahomed, a Kirghiz chief, who was reputed to be very wealthy. Mahomed was a fine robust man, about sixty years old, stout and square-built, with broad features, a fine flowing grey beard, a pair of small piercing eyes, and a fairly pleasant countenance. He wore on his head a closely fitting silk cap, handsomely embroidered in silver; his dress consisting of a large robe, or khalat, of pink and yellow striped silk, tied round the waist with a white shawl. His boots were of reddish-brown leather, small, with very high heels, causing a real or apparent difficulty in walking. His wife, much younger than himself, and probably not more than thirty or thirty-five years of age, had a broad face, high cheek-bones, twinkling black bead-like eyes, a small nose, a wide mouth; she was neither pretty nor prepossessing; but decidedly in want of a hot bath. Attired in a black kaufa (Chinese satin) khalat, with a red shawl round the waist; reddish-brown high-heeled boots, like her husband’s; she also wore a rather pointed white muslin cap, the lappets of which, finely wrought on the edge with red silk, hung down nearly to her hips. This couple were rich in the world’s goods from a Kirghiz point of view. Not only was their yourt well stocked with voilocks and carpets, and richly ornamented weapons, and costly caparisonings, but they owned an amount of live stock which would astonish the most opulent English farmer. The noise in and around the aul was deafening. It was a babel of sounds: the sharp cry of the camels, the neighing of the horses, the bellowing of the bulls, the bleating of the sheep and goats, and the barking of the dogs, all combining in one hideous, ear-shattering chorus. Mr. Atkinson counted no fewer than 106 camels, including their young; besides more than 2000 horses, 1000 oxen and cows, and 6000 sheep and goats. Yet even these large totals did not represent all the wealth of the Kirghiz chief; for he had two other auls, and at each were 1000 horses and numerous cattle. It was a picturesque and interesting sight to see the women busily milking the cows, and the men conducting the vast herds to their pastures. The horses and camels are driven to the greatest distance, as far as ten and fifteen versts; the oxen come next; the sheep remain nearest the aul, but still at a distance of five or six versts.
While Mr. Atkinson was sojourning in Mahomed’s aul, a night attack was made upon it. He was aroused, about two hours after midnight, by a tremendous noise, which to him, sleeping on the ground, seemed as if it issued from some subterranean hollow. At first he thought it was the rumbling of an earthquake, and immediately sat upright. But the sound rolled on, drew nearer and nearer; presently it passed, so that the whole earth shook. Then he knew that the herd of horses was dashing onward at full gallop; and when he caught the shrieks of women and the shouts of men, he understood that an assault had been made upon the aul by robbers. In a moment he seized his rifle, and sallied forth from the yourt, to behold the Kirghiz, battle-axe in hand, leap on their horses, and gallop towards the point of attack. The herds were rushing wildly round the aul; the Cossacks, with their muskets loaded, were ready for the fray; all was confusion and disorder. Presently the sound of horses swiftly approaching could be heard; they came nearer and nearer; in less than two minutes a dark troop swept past like a whirlwind at twenty paces distant, making the air ring with loud, defiant shouts. Five bullets whistled after them; there was a scream from a horse, but on they dashed. The Kirghiz followed quickly in pursuit, accompanied by two of the Cossacks, who had rapidly mounted. After riding about a verst they came up with the robbers, to find they were three times their number, and prepared to fight for their booty. Against such odds no success could be hoped for, and accordingly the Kirghiz retired to the aul. When day dawned it was ascertained that this daring razzia had cost Mahomed a hundred horses.
This was not the only adventure that befell Mr. Atkinson while he made Mahomed’s aul his headquarters. One day, he was returning from an excursion to some finely coloured porphyry rocks, when the wind begun to blow across the steppe in strong and frequent gusts, and his Kirghiz guides announced that a storm was at hand. Their prediction was confirmed by the clouds that gathered about the lower peaks of the Altai, and soon a dense mass of blackness, extending for a long distance from north to south, rolled rapidly in the direction of the travellers. Not a tree or a rock offered the slightest shelter. Spurring their horses briskly, they galloped over the plain, pursued by the storm, as, in Goethe’s ballad, the father and his doomed child are pursued by the Erl King. The gusts of wind ceased, and for a short time a deadly calm prevailed. Meanwhile, the clouds were painfully agitated, as if by some internal force, and streams of vapour issuing from their blackness whirled rapidly round. A low murmur stole through the air; gradually it deepened and strengthened, until, as the storm broke upon the steppe, it swelled into a roar like that of a thousand cannon. The grasses and low bushes were rooted up, and sent flying into the air with fearful velocity. The terrified horses stopped suddenly; nor could they be induced to move until the whirlwind had passed by. Fortunately the travellers had not been caught in its vortex, and no serious accident occurred.
Leaving the hospitable Mahomed, Mr. Atkinson continued his explorations of the steppe, and rode onward to the next aul, which lay to the northward, and was reached in two days’ journey. Here, after the usual entertainment, he found himself free to write up his journal – much to the astonishment of his companions, the three R’s being unknown in the steppe to any but the mullahs, or priests, of the various tribes. The manuscript was a wonder to the children of the wilderness, and they regarded its owner as a very wealthy mullah, possessed of the priceless treasure of a book full of amulets. For the mullah sells his amulets, or charms, at the rate of a sheep for each scrap of paper, which he has covered with unmeaning characters. Mr. Atkinson’s ring was examined; also his knife; also a piece of red sealing-wax. On a piece of thick paper from his sketch-book he took impressions of his seal, and presented them to the women of the yourt, who doubtlessly long wore them in their caps as talismans or ornaments of special value and importance. His watch was likewise an object of curiosity. He held it to the ear of a woman sitting near him. Evidently she thought it was alive and talking, for she communicated the fact to her companions, and they all expressed a wish to hear it speak.
By way of Mount Kamenogorsk, his old quarters, Mr. Atkinson proceeded to Barnaoul, which he reached on the 1st of November. This town is built at the junction of the small river Barnaulka with the Ob. The streets are wide, laid out in parallel lines, and intersected by others at right angles. There are three ugly brick churches, and one large hospital. Its silver smelting works are on an extensive scale, producing annually about nine thousand pounds. Almost all the gold found in Siberia is also smelted here, and cast into bars; and every year six caravans leave with the precious metals for St. Petersburg – four in winter by the sledge roads, and two in summer. Barnaoul is the centre for the administration of the mines of the Altai, and the residence of the Natchalink, or director, as well as of the heads of the principal departments.
The public museum at Barnaoul contains a very good collection of minerals, some Siberian antiquities, a few Siberian animals and birds, and four tiger-skins. The wearers of these skins were killed in different parts of Siberia; in two instances their capture proving fatal to some of the peasants engaged in it, for pea-rifles and hay-forks are scarcely fit weapons with which to encounter the fiercest of the beasts of prey. They are seldom found in Siberia; only when driven by hunger do they cross the Irtisch, and many peasants do not know them even by name. The last of the Barnaoul company, now reposing peacefully in a glass case, was discovered, early one morning, prone on the top of a small hay-rick, near the village. The peasant, who had come for some hay for his horses, beheld with surprise and terror the strange and formidable creature, and shrank from his glaring eyeballs, which seemed to sparkle with fire. At the same moment the peasant’s dog caught sight of him, and, with a loud bark, bravely dashed towards the rick. Growling terribly, the tiger sprung to the ground. The dog met him intrepidly, – to be crushed in a moment beneath his heavy paw. Hastening towards the village, the man gave the alarm, and quickly returned with a valiant company; some armed with pea-rifles, others with hay-forks and axes. Several dogs followed them. On approaching the rick, they were apprised of the enemy’s position by a furious growl. The dogs made a brilliant charge; but the tiger crouched sullenly, and did not spring. A small shot through his hide roused him, and at a bound he was in among the dogs, killing a couple of them instantly with his terrible paws, and scattering the rest in ignominious flight. He received two more balls, but they served only to inflame his fury, and leaping in among his assailants, he felled one of them to the ground, dead. Again the dogs charged him, while the peasants with their hay-forks stabbed him in the back and sides. At last he withdrew slowly towards a bank covered with brushwood, followed by the dogs and their masters; but on reaching the bank he halted, faced round, growled angrily, and prepared for another spring. His enemies halted, and poured in shot upon him; the dogs barked furiously; but he held his ground, and could not be induced to move. After a while, encouraged by his inaction, the dogs began to close in upon him, and finally it was discovered that a ball had pierced him in a vital part, and the beast was dead.
The river Ob, which flows past Barnaoul, is described as a magnificent stream, running in a valley twelve versts broad; its numerous small branches divide this valley into islands, on which large trees are growing. In May the melting of the snow swells the stream into a great flood, which inundates much of the valley, and gradually widens from one bank to the other, with the tops of the trees rising above the swirl of waters like islands. At this time many of the scenes along the Ob are very grand, especially if seen at sunrise or sunset, when the various colouring of the luminous sky is mirrored in the mighty stream, which, flashing with golden and crimson lights, rolls through the deep purple masses of the forest, to terminate its course in the Arctic Ocean.
The neighbourhood seems to be an attractive one for the sportsman; snipe abound in June and July, blackcock in August, and rebchicks, or tree partridges, in September. Wild hen are also plentiful, and in winter, hares. Or if the hunter care for more venturous sport, he may sally out against the wolves and bears.
The bears are dangerous antagonists. A very large one was seen by some woodcutters about fifteen versts from the gold mine; and two men, one of whom was known as a bold, skilful, and veteran hunter, started in pursuit. They found the beast’s track quite fresh in the long dewy grass, and cautiously followed it up, until a low growl warned them of his presence. He sprang out of a thicket, about thirty-five paces distant, and confronted his pursuers. The hunter fired, and his shot told, but not in a vital part. The wounded animal charged immediately, the other man reserving his shot until he was within twenty paces. Then, unfortunately, his rifle missed fire. The bear at once stood on his hind legs, and sprang forward against his first assailant, striking him to the earth with a blow that stripped his scalp and turned it over his face; then, seizing his arm, he began to gnaw and crush it to the bone, gradually ascending to the shoulder. The sufferer called to his companion to load and fire; but, losing heart when he saw his friend so terribly mangled, the craven took to flight.
Returning to the gold mine, he related what had happened; but it was then too late to despatch a party in search of the unfortunate hunter. At daylight next morning, however, they set out, with the craven as guide. On arriving at the scene of the affray, no remains of the victim could be found but some torn clothing and his rifle; and the trampled grass showed that he had been carried off into the thick covert. The trail was pursued with the utmost diligence, and at length, under a heap of branches, in a dense thicket of trees and bushes, the hunter’s body was discovered, and, strange to say, though grievously mutilated, it still throbbed with life. With tender care the miserable victim was conveyed to the gold mine and taken to the hospital, where he was treated with the utmost kindness, and all was done that medical skill could do. For a long time he remained unconscious; but at the end of two months a slight improvement was noticeable, and he recovered his reason. His first question was about the bear; his next, about his own defeat. In truth, his conversation turned only upon these subjects: he seemed possessed by a monomania; was continually asking for his rifle, that he might go and kill “Michael Ivanitch” (the bear). As his strength returned, it was thought necessary to place him under restraint, lest his desire to contend with his fierce and powerful enemy should lead him into some dangerous enterprise.
But when autumn arrived, and laid its magical finger on the forest, the monomaniac seemed to have forgotten his hate, so that he was watched with less rigour. He took advantage of his comparative freedom to steal from the hospital, gain his own cottage, and, in the absence of his family, arm himself with his rifle and axe, and stow away in his wallet a loaf of black bread. Then, as the shades of evening began to fall, he started for the forest, and soon disappeared in the gathering gloom.
As soon as his absence from the hospital was known, a close search for him was instituted; but in vain. A week passed by, and it was supposed that he had perished, when one day he strode into the hospital, carrying on his shoulders the skin of a huge black bear. Throwing it down, he exclaimed, “I told you I would have him.” Thenceforward he rapidly recovered; both his physical and mental health were re-established, and he lived to bring down many another “Michael Ivanitch” with his deadly rifle.
A curious incident befell a Cossack officer in the woods of Barnaoul.
Alone and unarmed, he was sauntering through the forest glades, gathering specimen plants, when, at a distance of about eight versts from the gold mine, he emerged into an open space, where stood a few isolated trees; and the same moment he descried, not more than two hundred yards off, a she-bear and her two cubs gambolling together. She, too, recognized his presence; and, with a fierce growl, drove her young ones into a tree as an asylum, and, resolute to defend them, mounted guard at its foot.
To carry off the cubs as trophies was the Cossack’s resolve, but he wanted a weapon. Retiring into the wood a few steps, he came to a place where the woodmen had felled several young birch trees, and from one of these he selected four feet of a stout, strong, but manageable stem, with which he returned to the scene of action. At his approach the old bear resumed her growling, and moved uneasily to and fro in front of the tree, but carefully keeping within a few feet of it. He continued his advance. She growled more savagely, and plainly suspected his hostile intentions. Still he moved forward, with his eyes steadfastly fixed upon her. When he was within about fifty paces, she made a fierce rush that would have put most men to flight. He held his ground, and as the cubs began to whine, she trotted back towards the tree, in a mood of uncontrolled rage. The Cossack followed; she turned; the two antagonists stood face to face at a distance of twenty yards.
Retreat was now impossible; and there they stood, gazing keenly on each other, and each waiting for an opportunity to attack. The bear, with fiery eyeballs, made a second rush, and at a few paces from her daring enemy, rose on her hind legs, either to fell him with her heavy paws or crush him in her cruel embrace; but, with wonderful coolness, he brought down his club and toppled her over. In a second she sprang to her feet, and prepared to renew the charge; another tremendous stroke laid her on the ground. The combat assumed a desperate and deadly character, and several “rounds” were determinedly fought. Eventually, the Cossack’s well-directed blows subdued her courage, and when she could neither charge him in front nor get in his rear, she fell back towards the tree, still fighting desperately. Under the tree a fresh spirit was infused into the affray, and every time she heard her cubs whine, she returned with increased fury to the assault. She was received, however, with such a shower of blows, that, at last dispirited and exhausted, she retreated hastily towards the forest, and entered its shades; contriving, nevertheless, whenever the gallant Cossack moved towards the refuge of her cubs, to make a rush in that direction.
All this time the cubs remained perched among the branches, and the officer, considering himself victorious, longed to take possession of his prize. But he could devise no plan of getting at them, and it was evident they would not come down at his call. Luckily, a woodman, on his way to the gold mine, rode into the arena. The Cossack hailed him; ordered him to dismount, to take from his saddle the zumka, or leather saddle-bags, and, climbing the tree, to thrust the cubs into them, while he himself kept watch over the mother bear. This was done, though not without several sharp encounters between the she-bear and the officer; and, finally, the peasant threw his heavy bags across his horse, and led the way to the ravine, the Cossack covering the rear. In this fashion they marched into Barnaoul; first, the woodman and his horse, next the Cossack officer, and behind him the bear. The march occupied two hours, and the unfortunate mother persevered to the very last, not abandoning her young ones until their captor had reached the cottages. Then she hastily returned into the forest, and was seen no more.
