CHAPTER IX.

KRASNOIARSK.

We had now arrived at the terminus of the Trans-Siberian Railway--the terminus so far as the early spring of 1897 was concerned. The road, we understood, would be completed as far as Kansk by May, to Nijniudinsk by the autumn, and to Irkutsk, the capital of Siberia, by the spring of 1898. Our journey from Krasnoiarsk was due south, towards the Syansk Mountains, and in order to cover the eight hundred odd miles which separated us from our goal, we had perforce to fall back upon the original Siberian method of locomotion, the troika sledge.

Pausing here, as we did, for several days, in order to complete our arrangements for that long and tedious journey, it may not be out of place to present a few facts with regard to the construction of the great Siberian railroad, an enterprise which is bound in future years to become a very important factor in the commerce of Asia. There are many political writers who assert that the great scheme covering the idea of a railway across Siberia was one of strategy. Considering the wealth of her Asiatic provinces, the Pacific littoral, and the Chinese border, and which have ever been poorly protected, and in the hope of bringing her Asiatic possessions into closer touch with Europe, Russia had looked at the matter in a calm and far-seeing light. Russians themselves, however, argue otherwise. They say that the main idea which dominated the scheme was commercial enterprise. For very many years, while Siberia has been growing in richness, and has supplied the mother-country with most of its commercial products, that country has been, even to Russians themselves, a land of mystery. It was the late Emperor Alexander’s idea to construct the line--he was an imperialist if ever one sat upon the throne of Russia. His predecessors, however, if they had not shamefully neglected their Asiatic possessions, had at least treated them with indifference. Siberia has supplied for many years the finest furs to Moscow and St. Petersburg, the imperial coffers have been loaded with Siberian gold, and the finest stones have been sent from Siberia to Russia. There was the great Chinese tea trade passing through its heart, there was a demand all over that vast country for European goods, and yet there was no better means of sending them, or of bringing goods from Siberia itself, than by way of cumbersome and completely out-of-date caravans such as had toiled across those plains back in the dark ages.

The scheme of the Siberian railroad was one which recent political movements have had the effect of altering considerably. Starting from Chelabinsk, the line goes straight across the Tartar and Barabinski steppes, through the towns of Kurgan, Petropavlovsk, Omsk, Kainsk, to Kreveschokovo, crossing the important rivers of the Tobol, Ishim, and Irtish on its road. This section of the line is no less than 1320 versts long. I have already alluded to the reason why the railway, instead of describing a northerly course and taking in the town of Tomsk, went straight ahead to Atchinsk and Krasnoiarsk. After crossing the Obi, the line is continued to Atchinsk, 551 versts further on, crossing the rivers Tom and Chulim; then to Krasnoiarsk, another 169 versts; and after that Irkutsk, 1005 versts from the last-named town. So far, and in spite of the rather mountainous country between the Obi River and Lake Baikal, the laying of the line, it was considered, would not offer many difficulties to the engineer. The further project is to continue the line round the southern shore of the Baikal as far as Mysofsk, but here it is estimated tremendous difficulties will have to be encountered, for the line is to pass along a valley which is frequently inundated, and will necessitate the building of huge embankments. The valley of the Irkut is to be followed as far as the slopes of the Sirkisinsk Mountains, where it is to pass through the first tunnel constructed. In fact, the whole of that portion of the line running around the Baikal offers tremendous difficulties to the engineer--marshy grounds, hard rock, and numerous rushing streams having to be encountered. From here the line, according to the original plan, was to follow the course of the Selenga, which river it was to cross on a trestle bridge. Thence through a country of extreme mountainous character, including the Yablonoi chain, to the watershed of the Lena and Amoor, the course of the railway was one which only the most scientific railway engineers in the world would care to tackle. Nearing Stretinsk the line would be close to the Chinese border, which it was to follow closely, by the banks of the Amoor and the Ussuri, until it emerged from the mountains on to the coast and terminated at Vladivostock.

The railway was commenced at both ends, and the Vladivostock station was the first to be completed. A glance at the map will show that from Vladivostock the railway had to take an extreme northward course, in order to follow the Manchurian border, and at the time many of those interested in the enterprise looked longingly at that portion of Manchuria which alone obstructed a straight run across a flat and easily engineered country from Stretinsk to the coast. The Chino-Japanese War, and the political complications with Russia which occurred afterwards, came, for the latter country at any rate, at a most opportune time, and the result now is that the railway, instead of going to Vladivostock, as was the original intention, will now depart from the course at first laid down, and will cut into Manchuria and drive a straight course down to the Pacific coast at Port Arthur.

The save which will be effected in this later development of the Trans-Siberian Railway plan can only be appreciated when it is said that the original line from Stretinsk to Vladivostock would offer almost precisely similar difficulties to the engineer as those which the constructors of the Union Pacific Railroad met with, and that the new project involves nothing more terrible than laying the line on what is practically a hard, sandy desert. On top of this political stratagem comes the important fact that by cutting right into the heart of Chinese tributary states the Trans-Siberian Railway must and will absorb the bulk of the Chinese tea trade. As an instance of what this tea trade really means, it is as well to mention that while the greater portion of it heretofore has been carried by camel caravan across the Gobi Desert and through the heart of Siberia to Russia, enterprising traders have found that even a cheaper way to get tea into Russia has been to ship at Shanghai, and then by the Colombo, Suez, and Mediterranean route into the English Channel, trans-ship from here into the steamers for the Arctic seas, and thence by the Kara Sea route down into the centre of Siberia through the Yenesei River to Krasnoiarsk.

From end to end the line will be about seven thousand versts--4666 miles--but the construction of the main line itself does not complete the whole enterprise, which will be further increased by the development of the river traffic, in order to bring towns far inland in direct steamboat communication with the railway. Wharves and quays are to be built, branch lines sent out, and, in fact, as time progresses, the whole scheme is one ambitious enough to bring all the most important towns in Siberia into direct railway communication with the Western world. Of the colonization value of the railway I have already spoken. Siberia as a country is far richer agriculturally, and in many other respects, than is European Russia, and although it will take time to convince the somewhat slothful Russian that Siberia is not all so black as it has been painted, the outlook is one decidedly of promise. As an earnest of the Government’s endeavours to popularize this land so little known, foreign traders and travellers are offered privileges which one would scarcely dream of in connection with a country which heretofore has seemed unapproachable. For travellers, as a matter of fact, the Siberian Railway will offer many advantages. The zone system of railway travelling, which originated in Hungary, is in force throughout Russia, and at the present time it is possible to buy a first-class railway ticket at the port of Riga, on the Baltic coast, to Krasnoiarsk, right in the centre of Siberia, for the sum of £5 15_s._ This price is in such violent contrast to the excessive charges for horses under the older system of Siberian travelling that it surely cannot fail to have a very great effect upon the passenger traffic of Siberia in future years.

Having now done with the railway, we four exiles had perforce to turn our attention and our thoughts towards horses and sledges. The first thing to do was to buy sledges, and the next to hire horses. We had been told that, owing to the competition offered by the railway, we should find sledges cheap, especially in Krasnoiarsk. A decent sledge, new, will cost anything from two hundred to three hundred roubles; but this was not anything like the price which we intended to pay.

Realizing the fact that we were foreigners, with but a scanty knowledge of Russian, we were prepared to be fleeced a bit; but thanks to the good offices of our Jewish landlord, we got through the ordeal of sledge-buying to our complete satisfaction. The landlord knew a man who had a sledge to sell. I saw his little eyes twinkle with cupidity when we broached the subject of sledge-buying to him. He asked how much we were prepared to spend on the sledges. I casually mentioned twenty-five roubles. He raised his hands in horror. Twenty-five roubles! Why, that would not purchase the runners! But we had a scheme which brought him to the business-like point, and that was to offer him a commission on the purchase, provided we were present, so that he should have no chance of making any ulterior arrangement with the seller. We arranged the commission on a sliding scale, so based that for every rouble he saved us so many more kopecks commission for him. Being shrewd, he saw the force of our argument, and I must say that in the subsequent proceedings he behaved as honestly as we could desire.

We drove down to his friend, where, under a shed, the sledge for sale was frozen hard and fast to the ground. We called forth the proprietor and demanded its price.

“A hundred roubles.”

Our Jewish friend spat vigorously on the ground, called the other a moujik and a thief and several other hard names.

“A hundred roubles! Preposterous!” The foreigners would not dream of paying more than ten. There were plenty of other sledges in the town: and, in fact, if he did not want to sell, why the Jew himself, in commiseration for the foreigners, would lend them his own sledges!

This brought the proprietor down to seventy-five roubles. More spitting and more ejaculations on the part of the Jew.

At a signal we all walked towards the gate and our drosky. The proprietor ambled after us.

“Fifty roubles, then,” said he.

“Fifteen roubles!” said the Jew.

“It is the only sledge I have,” cried the other, raising both his hands in mock supplication. “If you take it from me I shall have to walk, for I must go to Irkutsk next week. There, there, it is a lovely sledge. Look at the runners, sound and bright as on the day they were put in. The body of the sledge too, roomy and comfortable; two gentlemen can sleep here day and night, if they wish. Come now, forty-five roubles.”

“Twenty roubles,” cried the Jew, with his foot on the step of the drosky.

“Bah!” cried the other, “you would rob me. Go your way.”

He slammed the gate at us, and we all made as if to get into the drosky. But the Jew, however, motioned to us to wait for a moment; and then the gate opened, and the hairy face of the sledge-proprietor appeared. “Forty roubles,” he cried in a sort of half howl.

“Twenty-five,” responded the Jew.

“Not a kopeck less,” said the owner.

“Then drive on, isvostchik,” commanded the Jew.

The isvostchik struck the horse with the end of his reins; but the gate of the moujik’s hut opened, and out the sledge-proprietor dashed.

“Thirty-five roubles.”

“Twenty-six.”

“Bah! you would rob me; say thirty.”

“Not a kopeck more than twenty-seven.”

“Twenty-seven, very well; but I must have ten kopecks for vodki.”

Out of the drosky we bundled again into the yard; inspected the sledge, paid twenty-seven roubles for it, and ten kopecks for vodki; found the first three men we could in the street, and gave them a few kopecks to run the sledge round to the hotel, and the bargain was completed.

Another sledge was purchased with precisely similar proceedings, but I must confess that the whole business, irrespective of the undoubted fact that our Jewish friend pocketed a good round sum on the deal, turned out much cheaper than we had expected.

The next thing was to purchase our store of provisions, which was to last something like seven days; for during our passage of the Yenesei River as far as Minusinsk, the villages would be few and far between, and even in these villages the traveller would fare badly if he wanted food. The main post-road to Minusinsk was from Atchinsk, but the river road, we had been told, was vastly preferable to the post-road, in spite of the discomfort which would be experienced in having to travel long distances between villages. Nor could we have the assistance of the Government post-horses, and should have to rely upon what horses we could hire along the route in order to forward our journey. Why we had been advised to take the river route I cannot tell. I can only say that as it turned out it was a hundred per cent. dearer, two days slower, and a hundred times more uncomfortable than if we had taken the regular post-road through Atchinsk. But this fact was not brought home to us until the return journey was made and the regular method of communication resorted to.

The packing of a sledge is a task which only the experienced Siberian traveller should undertake. The body of the vehicle almost touches the ground, and it is in the body that all the stores are placed; careful packing with hay and straw, canvas and rope, ensuring a certain amount of rigidity. The goods are packed as nearly level as possible, and on the top are thrown heaps of straw, then the pillows, rugs, and furs of the traveller, who, poor fellow, is compelled, owing to the general flatness of the vehicle, to assume, during the whole of his journey, a more or less recumbent attitude. At the first set off, and when, smothered in our furs, we laid down in our sledges, everything seemed very jolly and comfortable, and I am sure we all looked forward with much avidity to our long sledge ride. It was after two days of it, however, when, what with the packages shifting and our cramped positions, we began to feel that, wretched as had been the accommodation of the Siberian railroad trains, one could at least move about in them with some degree of freedom.

It was afternoon before we were prepared to start on the first stage of the journey. The nearest village was fifty versts away, and a Krasnoiarsk moujik had guaranteed to take us there for the sum of eight roubles per sledge. Hours after the time appointed, he turned up with his six horses, a douga with its jangling bells hanging over each shoulder, a bottle of vodki under his arm, and a wooden pipe tucked between his teeth. Night was already falling, and we were anxious to be off, as we had no desire to have the first stage of our sledging accomplished in the dark. The leisurely manner in which this particular yemshik went about his business exasperated us, and it was already dark before we were able to scramble in, tuck ourselves in our furs, shake hands with the hotel proprietor, and give the signal to start.

[Illustration: THE YENESEI RAPIDS--SUMMER.]

And the start was made. The yemshik cracked his knout, gave vent to a piercing scream, followed it up by a whoop, and then the horses dashed forward as if they were pursued by demons. We went out of the yard of the hotel in a sort of a side slide, which brought us up against a wooden lamp-post on the opposite side of the road with a tremendous jerk. Then down the road we careered; helter-skelter, bells jangling, and yemshiks shouting. Round a turn, under a wooden archway, erected to commemorate the visit of the Czarevitch; and then, with a plunge and a vision of flying snow from horses’ feet, a cloud of steam from horses’ nostrils, and with a sort of hold-on-or-be-thrown-out feeling permeating us, we went down the slope of the river-bank, out upon the glassy ice, with the whole broad expanse of the frozen Yenesei before us.