them, and must run to San Francisco or some other neutral port."
Just then San Francisco was the last place I desired to visit, but I knew I must abide the fortunes of war. We talked of the possibility of convincing a French captain that we were engaged in an international enterprise, and therefore not subject to capture. Anossoff joined me in arranging a plan to cover contingencies.
As we approached De Castries we could see the spars of a large ship over the islands at the entrance of the harbor. A moment later she was announced.
"A corvette, with steam up."
She displayed her flag—an English one. As we dropped anchor in the harbor a boat came to us, and an officer mounted the side and descended to the cabin. The ship proved to be the British Corvette Scylla, just ready to sail for Japan. Escaping her we did not encounter Charybdis. The mission of the Scylla was entirely pacific, and her officer informed us there had been war between Prussia and Austria, but at last accounts all Europe was at peace. The war of 1866 was finished long before I knew of its commencement.
De Castries Bay is on the Gulf of Tartary, a hundred and thirty-five miles from Nicolayevsk. La Perouse discovered and surveyed it in 1787, and named it in honor of the French Minister of Marine. It is in Lat. 51° 28' N., Lon. 140° 49' E., and affords good and safe anchorage. Near the entrance are several islands, which protect ships anchored behind them. The largest of these islands is occupied as a warehouse and coal depot, and has an observatory and signal station visible from the Gulf. The town is small, containing altogether less than fifty buildings. It is a kind of ocean port to Nicolayevsk and the Amoor river, but the settlement was never a flourishing one.
Twelve miles from the landing is the end of Lake Keezee, which opens into the Amoor a hundred and fifty miles from its mouth. It was formerly the custom to send couriers by way of Lake Keezee and the Amoor to Nicolayevsk to notify consigners and officials of the arrival of ships. Now the telegraph is in operation and supercedes the courier.
In 1855 an English fleet visited De Castries in pursuit of some Russian vessels known to have ascended the Gulf. When the fleet came in sight there were four Russian ships in port, and a few shots were exchanged, none of them taking effect. During a heavy fog in the following night and day the Russians escaped and ascended the Straits of Tartary toward the Amoor. The Aurora, the largest of these ships, threw away her guns, anchors, and every heavy article, and succeeded in entering the Amoor. The English lay near De Castries, and could not understand where the Russians had gone, as the southern entrance of the Amoor was then unknown to geographers.
We reached this port on the morning of September eleventh. The Variag could go no further owing to her draft of water, but fortunately the Morje, a gunboat of the Siberian fleet, was to sail for Nicolayevsk at noon, and we were happily disappointed in our expectations of waiting several days at De Castries. About eleven o'clock I left the Variag and accompanied Captain Lund, the doctor, and Mr. Anassoff into the boat dancing at the side ladder. Half an hour after we boarded the Morje she was under way, and we saw the officers and men of the corvette waving us farewell.
The Morje drew eight feet of water, and was admirably adapted to the sea coast service. There were several vessels of this class in the Siberian fleet, and their special duty was to visit the ports of Kamchatka, North Eastern Siberia, and Manjouria, and act as tow boats along the Straits of Tartary. The officers commanding them are sent from Russia, and generally remain ten years in this service. At the end of that time, if they wish to retire they can do so and receive half-pay for the rest of their lives. This privilege is not granted to officers in other squadrons, and is given on the Siberian station in consequence of the severer duties and the distance from the centers of civilization.
In its military service the government makes inducements of pay and promotion to young officers who go to Siberia. I frequently met officers who told me they had sought appointments in the Asiatic department in preference to any other. The pay and allowances are better than in European Russia, promotion is more rapid, and the necessities of life are generally less costly. Duties are more onerous and privations are greater, but these drawbacks are of little consequence to an enterprising and ambitious soldier.
The Morje had no accommodations for passengers, and the addition to her complement was something serious. Captain Lund, the doctor, Mr. Anassoff, and myself were guests of her captain. The cabin was given to us to arrange as best we could. My proposal to sleep under the table was laughed at as impracticable. I knew what I was about, having done the same thing years before on Mississippi steamers. When you must sleep on the floor where people may walk about, always get under the table if possible. You run less risk of receiving boot heels in your mouth and eyes, and whole acres of brogans in your ribs. The navigation of the Straits of Tartary is very intricate, the water being shallow and the channel tortuous. From De Castries to Cape Catherine there is no difficulty, but beyond the cape the channel winds like the course of the Ohio, and at many points bends quite abruptly. The government has surveyed and buoyed it with considerable care, so that a good pilot can take a light draught steamer from De Castries to Nicolayevsk in twelve or fifteen hours. Sailing ships are greatly retarded by head winds and calms, and often spend weeks on the voyage. In 1857 Major Collins was nineteen days on the barque Bering from one of these ports to the other.
Illustration: TEACHINGS OF EXPERIENCE. Click to view.
In the straits we passed four vessels, one of them thirty days from De Castries and only half through the worst of the passage. The water shoals so rapidly in some places that it is necessary to sound on both sides of the ship at once. Vessels drawing less than ten feet can pass to the Ohotsk sea around the northern end of Sakhalin island, but the channel is even more crooked than the southern one.
We anchored at sunset, and did not move till daybreak. At the hour of sunset, on this vessel as on the corvette, we had the evening chant of the service of the Eastern church. While it was in progress a sentinel on duty over the cabin held his musket in his left hand and made the sign of the cross with his right. Soldier and Christian at the same moment, he observed the outward ceremonial of both. The crew, with uncovered beads, stood upon the deck and chanted the prayer. As the prayer was uttered the national flag, lowered from the mast, seemed, like those beneath it, to bow in adoration of the Being who holds the waters in the hollow of His hand, and guides and controls the universe.
While passing the straits of Tartary we observed a mirage of great beauty, that pictured the shores of Sakhalin like a tropical scene. We seemed to distinguish cocoa and palm trees, dark forests and waving fields of cane, along the rocky shores, that were really below the horizon. Then there were castles, with lofty walls and frowning battlements, cloud-capped towers, gorgeous palaces, and solemn temples, rising among the fields and forests, and overarched with curious combinations of rainbow hues. The mirage frequently occurs in this region, but I was told it rarely attained such beauty as on that occasion.
Sakhalin island, which separates the Gulf of Tartary from the Ohotsk sea, extends through nine degrees of latitude and belongs partly to Russia and partly to Japan. The Japanese have settlements in the Southern portion, engaging in trade with the natives and catching and curing fish. The natives are of Tunguze origin, like those of the lower Amoor, and subsist mainly upon fish. The Russians have settlements at Cape Dui, where there is excellent coal in veins eighteen feet thick and quite near the coast. Russia desired the entire island, but the Japanese positively refuse to negotiate. Some years ago the Siberian authorities established a colony near the Southern extremity, but its existence was brief.
At three o'clock in the afternoon of September eleventh we entered the mouth of the Amoor, the great river of Asiatic Russia. The entrance is between two Capes or headlands, seven miles apart and two or three hundred feet high. The southern one, near which we passed, is called Cape Pronge, and has a Gilyak village at its base. Below this cape the hills border the Gulf and frequently show precipitous sides. The shallow water at their base renders the land
