They were a queer-looking set of people, but seemed frank and good-natured, and invited the strangers to spend the night, which was now approaching, with them. Linsk, who knew the language pretty well, accepted the offer, and the party was led to one of the largest huts. Alexis noticed two large rein-deer in a little pen attached to the dwelling, and observed several large dogs, who now awoke from their repose and came smelling suspiciously around the new-comers.
On entering the hut, the scene presented was a curious one. The whole interior consisted of one room. This was circular, of a conical form, and about twenty feet across. Benches were set around, upon which the wife and one or two other women were sitting. The fire was built in the centre, and, there being no chimney, the whole hut was filled with smoke; but the inmates did not seem to mind it. The children were crawling upon the floor like pigs.
After staying a while in the hut, it was announced that supper was ready, and the travellers soon found that it was to be a feast. The men of the party had been on a fishing expedition, and, having been absent a week, had scarcely tasted a bit of food during that period, and their families at home had been fasting in the mean time. One of the huts had been assigned to the cooking of the meal, and it was to be eaten in the same place.
When the sable-hunters came to the hut, they found about sixty people there, of all sexes and sizes. Already had the revel begun; for the hunger of the party was beyond control. The feast itself was a sight to see. Four large iron caldrons had been set over the fire, filled with fishes of all sorts, though chiefly cod. They were thrown in together without dressing—heads, tails, entrails, fins, and scales! A huge quantity of deer’s-grease and a little salt had been put in. A brisk fire had then been kindled beneath, and the whole fried or boiled into a mighty chowder. The steam that gushed from the door of the hut, was almost strong enough for a supper. It was so rank as to satisfy Alexis and his two younger companions, who soon went out of doors, and mingled with the people there.
A feast of wolves could not have been more voracious. Knives, forks, and plates were not thought of; each one ran into the hut with a wooden bowl, and, dipping it into the caldron, brought forth the seething mass, and while it yet seemed boiling hot, they devoured it with a rapacity absolutely amazing. The scalding heat seemed not to be the least hindrance; there was no ceremonious blowing and cooling—down it went, one dishful after another, as if it were a strife to see who could devour the most in the shortest space of time!
In two or three instances the children upset their bowls, and picking up the food from the ground, heedless of the dirt attached to it, ate it down; no matter if it was trodden upon, it was all the same. One of the children was seen by Alexis, flat upon his stomach, lapping up the broth, from the earth, that had been spilt. Among this crowd, the dogs came in for their share; but they were often obliged to dispute their claims to the remnants with the greedy children.
Among all this coarseness, the strangers were treated with the utmost hospitality, as, indeed, they had been ever since their departure from Tobolsk. After the meal had been finished, a few of the men treated themselves, apart, to brandy, in which entertainment our adventurers were permitted to join. A scene of drunkenness followed, after which the men staggered to their several houses. Linsk and his companions were comfortably lodged, having drank but sparingly.
In the morning the travellers left their Tungusian friends, and set out on their journey, offering to pay for their entertainment, which was, however, refused. Indeed, this had been generally the case, and they had hardly found any necessity of having money. Proceeding upon their journey, Linsk, according to his wont, began to talk, and these Tungusians were naturally the subject of his discourse.
“They are very numerous,” said he, “occupying nearly half of Siberia, and being confined to the central portions of it. They are as restless as Tartars, always moving from place to place, and alternately feasting and starving. They go without food as long as a wolf, and, like a wolf, they will gorge themselves when they get a chance. They eat food when and where they can get it. This is the way they are brought up. I have seen them eat candles, soap, and raw pork. I was once at a place where a reindeer died of disease; they threw him whole upon a fire, singed him a little, and then eat him, leaving nothing but the bones! A real hungry Tungusian will eat twenty pounds of meat in a day!”
Alexis would have expressed some doubt of all this, had not the scene he had witnessed prepared him to believe it, and had he not found that Linsk, though loyal to servility, and not a little inclined to superstition, was still a man of veracity in all that related to his own observation and experience. He went on with his description, therefore, without interruption.