September 7th.—Early in the morning Sergy visited the prisons, and at eight o’clock we proceeded on our journey. The road had recently been laid out specially to transport provisions from the boat to Mr. Komorski’s abode. After a drive of two hours we arrived at a spot where a copious lunch awaited us in a pavilion set up near the railway-line. We suddenly came upon a gang of chained convicts breaking stones on the road, who worked under the eager eyes of guards with ever-ready revolvers. Whistles were heard giving the signal to these wretched men to take off their caps at our approach. I was told that work was assigned to them for twelve hours of labour. Their food is good, the daily rations consisting of a plate of soup with 250 grams of meat and a kilogram of bread. In a group of convicts we saw the son of a General we had known at St. Petersburg. That unfortunate young man had belonged to one of the brilliant Guard regiments, and had been sent to the galleys and put to hard labour for life, for having shot one of his comrades, (Cherchez la femme!) His pale, haggard face was so painful to behold.
The last miles leading to the boat were as bad as bad could be. We were tumbled about like nuts in a bag. We reached towards four p.m. the Third Post on the banks of the “Soungatcha,” with aching bones and stiffened limbs. There were our fellow-travellers on the quay awaiting us, and whom should I see among them but Mr. Li, the attaché of the Chinese Embassy at St. Petersburg, my summer cavalier of Music Halls. I must say I was surprised! And I thought I should never see him again. The world’s small! Mr. Li passed through Vladivostock on his way to China, on a holiday. When we met our companions on Lake Khanka, he decided to come all this long way to see us. He will return to Lake Khanka to-morrow morning. The director of the Navigation Company on the Amour-river was also on the quay to meet us. He presented my husband “Bread and Salt” on a beautiful silver dish, and I received an enormous bouquet.
We are going to travel now by water as far as Khabarovsk. A handsome steam-yacht named “Ingoda” was lying alongside the quay, ordered for our use—a vessel gaily tricked out with flags, with my husband’s standard floating on the overdeck. The yacht was apparently quite new, all white and gold, with steam-heating and electricity. We were to travel luxuriously on that dainty thing. I have a charming cabin with real windows and bed, not a hard shelf, but quite a wide, springy bed, and blue silk tapestries on the walls; the covering of the furniture and the curtains are of the same stuff. I have a toilet-table adorned with white muslin curtains tied with blue ribbon. The cookery on board is excellent; the head-cook is a Chinaman. The captain provided soft-moving Chinese waiters and a Russian maid for me.
We shall weigh anchor only to-morrow morning, because it is dangerous to sail on the “Soungatcha” by night, the river being very narrow and winding. After supper the sailors lighted up the boat with Bengal fires, and barrels of burning tar were placed along the banks of the river. I sat up half the night on deck, stretched in a basket-chair chatting with Mr. Li about St. Petersburg, and awakening so many far-off memories.
Sept. 8th.—We started at 8 o’clock in the morning. Our boat glided down the swift river advancing very slowly. Our way wound in cork-screw curves, and the raftsman had to do some clever piloting to make the turns. On the left side of the “Soungatcha” was China. Here and there appeared to sight Chinese thatched huts. Natives, with long tresses, floated in junks on the river. On our side there is no vestige of habitation; all around the silence was profound; we seemed to have the world to ourselves. Now we steam on along lovely green banks fringed with tall trees bending their branches low over the water and reflected in it as in a mirror. Wild ducks swept over us, and long-legged herons came quite near to the edge of the water.
By the time the moon rose we had come to the first halt, a Cossack settlement situated in the hollow of a valley, where we cast anchor for the night. Smoke rose over the thatched roofs of the village; church-bells were ringing for vespers. Two “atamans” (Cossack delegates) are standing on the quay, holding their huge staffs of command. A deputation of Cossacks presented “Bread and Salt” on a glass dish to my husband, and I received as a gift a wild kid. We saw two men advancing, carrying between them, across their shoulders, a long pole upon which hung an enormous sturgeon. There was scarcely room enough on board for the gigantic fish.
We took a stroll through the village, where we visited the home of a rich Cossack inhabitant. My husband signed himself as godfather to his little son, who lay shrieking in his cot. The wee Cossack was still unbaptised, as there was no priest in the neighbourhood.
Sept. 9th.—The captain waited for the sun to rise to weigh anchor. Towards ten o’clock we enter the river “Oussouri,” which is considerably broader than the “Soungatcha.” An eagle is ascending high up in the skies. The air is so transparent that mountains which are scores of miles away are distinctly visible. The freshness of the vegetation is surprising. The furze attains the height of three yards. We slide along rich verdant valleys strewn with sweet-smelling flowers. The fresh breeze brings us a penetrating perfume of new-mown hay.
The next stopping-place was Krasnoyarsk, a big Cossack settlement. The inhabitants presented us wine in bottles entwined with branches of grapes. I remained on deck till midnight, admiring the large river on which the full moon reflected its opal glimmer.
Sept. 10th.—The wind that had risen in the night brought rain. We intended pushing on to Khabarovsk for the night, but the fog being very dense, we dropped anchor before Kasakevitchi, a large village scattered on a hillock.