The entire party, at the conclusion of the rest at Katchugo, was taken on board a huge roofed barge. A thousand people in one hole! The prison at Alexandrovsk, the exile-stations, were paradise in comparison with this unimaginable den. There was no air and no light. Instead of windows there were some small openings in the roof. Many fell ill, and were left lying there uncared for, some of them dying. We were so crowded that we slept almost on top of one another, inhaling the foulest of odours. Every morning we were allowed to come out on the deck of the barge, which was towed by a tug.
In our group was the woman Kitova, with her husband and two children. We cooked and ate our food together, suffering much at the hands of the criminals. There were some quiet people among the latter, and they suffered from the whims of the leaders and their lackeys.
There was one such case of a man, who happened to cross the path of an old criminal. The latter did not like the way he looked at him, and the poor man was beaten and, without any ceremony, thrown overboard and drowned. We were all locked up for it inside the barge and were denied the privilege of going out on the deck. It was the most cruel of punishments, worse than a long term in prison.
We changed barges on the way, spending about two months on the water, having journeyed about two thousand miles upon arriving at Yakutsk at the end of July. We were beached at night, but it was almost as light as day, though much colder.
Our joy at landing was indescribable. The local politicals all came out to welcome us. We were marched to the Yakutsk prison, where our roll was called. Here the women were separated from the men, and those who voluntarily accompanied their husbands were set free.
I then went to the office to inquire about the fate of Yasha, and was told that it was probable that he would be sent farther north. I was cared for by the local politicals, who sheltered me and gave me new clothing and money with which to purchase food and cook dinners for Yasha.
Yakutsk is such a distant place that the prisoners there are allowed considerable freedom. I was kindly treated by the officials when I took the dinner-pail to Yasha, and was permitted to remain with him as long as I desired, even in privacy.
Shortly afterwards Yasha was informed that he had been assigned to Kolymsk, within seven miles of the Arctic ocean, where the snow never melts and the winter never relaxes its grip. The news was a terrible shock to us. To be buried alive in some snow-bound hut! What for? To live like beasts in that uninhabitable region from which only few ever emerge alive!
There was still one ray of hope. Governor Kraft, of Yakutsk, had the reputation of being a very kind man, and he might reassign Yasha if I begged him to do so. Yasha had been advised to appeal to the Governor, and he sent me on this mission.
The Governor’s office was in his home. He received me very kindly, even shook my hand, and invited me to be seated. He was a tall, erect, black-bearded man of middle-age, and he showed every consideration for me as I told my story. I proposed to him to open a sanitary butcher’s shop in Yakutsk if he allowed Yasha to remain there, as the local butchers’ shops were inconceivably filthy.