THE _BARON KORFF_

Our friend in need proved a friend indeed, for it would have been no easy thing, knowing scarcely a word of the language, to disentangle our baggage, secure a cart to carry it, and droskies to carry ourselves, and make our way through the city of Khabaroffsk to the steamboat landing two miles away in season to catch the mail steamer, which, with steam up and whistle shrieking, was waiting to start on her long journey up the mighty Amour. But our official accomplished it all for us with celerity and despatch. He picked out our baggage, hired our droskies, took another himself, and drove to the steamer, saw our baggage safely bestowed in a state-room which had been secured for us at the governor’s orders, and did not leave us until we were fairly established in our comfortable and commodious quarters on the _Baron Korff_. We appreciated this courtesy the more fully when we learned that the steamer was exceedingly crowded, that it went only once in five days, and that some people had already been waiting fifteen days for the coveted passage. Our rapid flight through Khabaroffsk was made in a cloud of dust which would have done honor to Peking itself, the dustiest city in the world. Through the dust, however, we were able to catch glimpses of a frontier American-like town, with some good business blocks of brick and a fine cathedral church. We afterwards learned that Khabaroffsk contains about fifteen thousand inhabitants, and its importance is derived from the fact that it is the highest seat of government for all this vast section of the Amour River. Sitting on a high bluff at the juncture of the Amour and the Ussuri, a great stream which here joins its forces with its greater rival, the town occupies a commanding position and is regally situated to dominate the traffic of both rivers. In any other land the Ussuri itself would be a notable river, but in this country of great rivers, though it is nearly a mile wide at its juncture with the Amour, it is only a branch of eastern Siberia’s greater waterway.

Since the _Baron Korff_ was to be our home for the next week, and, in a literal as well as figurative sense, we were to be “all in the same boat” with the rest of her passengers, we were naturally anxious to know something of them and of her, if it is proper to speak of a baron as belonging to the feminine sex. A hasty inspection showed us that the _Baron Korff_ was a stately side-wheeler, such as might have done duty on the Mississippi before the railroads robbed her of her commercial glory. The first-class accommodations were well forward, and consisted of roomy and comfortably furnished staterooms for about twenty people on the upper deck, each room having berths for two people, a long dining-saloon, into which the state-rooms opened, and a pleasant saloon in front, handsomely furnished and provided with a good German piano. This saloon made a delightful sitting-room for the passengers, for its abundant glass furnished a splendid view of the river and the banks on either side, between which the _Baron_ made her devious way. Behind the first-class cabins was a large open space, sheltered from the wind, and suitable for a promenade. Here was a restaurant and bar, frequently patronized by some of our thirsty fellow-passengers, while behind it were the second-class cabins, which looked to me nearly as comfortable as those at the other end of the ship. Down below were huddled together a miscellaneous crowd of peasants--men, women, and children--with their scant piles of bedding and all their worldly possessions; sturdy men in top-boots and figured gowns belted at the waist, often with a sleeveless vest worn outside; women in gay calicoes and hobnailed shoes; children clad in little more than nature’s original raiment--all were here. On the hard iron floor they spread out their quilts, piled their household goods about them, and prepared to make the best of their six days in the bowels of the _Baron Korff_.

Their accommodations were not luxurious, certainly, but when we remember that they paid but three roubles and six kopeks for the entire 918 versts, more than six hundred miles, to Blagavestchensk, or only about one dollar and a half, we cannot think that the accommodations were disproportionate to the price.

The chief rival of our friends in the steerage was the great pile of wood, for which the _Baron Korff_ had an insatiate maw, and which, when first put on board, occupied fully one-half the space of the steerage, but which, every hour, sensibly diminished until we came to a station, where a new supply was taken on board.

The second-class fare was four times the third-class, or thirteen roubles and ninety-seven kopeks, and the first-class more than seven times the third, or twenty-two roubles and ninety-six kopeks. I am constrained to admit, however, that the first-class accommodations are fully seven times as good as the third, though I do not think they are twice as good as the second.

For the meals on the Amour steamers one pays separately, at the rate of two roubles a day, not an extravagant sum, indeed; but they were not extravagant meals, and they cost all they were worth.

In the morning, about eight, tea was served, with the inevitable samovar occupying the place of honor in the centre. Slices of lemon and sugar were provided, according to the Russian style, but no milk. Soft bread and zweiback, without butter, completed the first meal of the day.

The second, and principal, meal was served promptly at noon, and consisted of a thick, greasy soup, a course of meat with no potatoes, and very scanty vegetables of any kind, and a pudding. On rare occasions ice-cream took the place of the pudding. Tea was served again at four o’clock, and supper, which consisted of one meat course without vegetables, and more tea, completed the menus for the day. If one wished to supplement these meals with orders from the restaurant of caviare or smoked fish or boiled eggs, of course he was at liberty to do so.

The first meal served on the _Baron Korff_ on our voyage was supper. Fifteen foreigners and five Russians sat down to the table together. None of the foreigners, at least, knew what to expect from the culinary department. The meat was served, and was sparingly partaken of, on the supposition that, after the fashion of other steamers, four or five other courses would follow. Then came a long wait. The plates were removed, and still we waited. The minutes lengthened into a full quarter of an hour, and at length the one overworked waiter appeared, bearing, not the expected fish or vegetables or salad or dessert, but _the brass samovar_, and we knew a tumbler of tea was all that was to be expected. The craning of necks as the long-delayed waiter entered the room, and the expressions of disappointment when his sole burden was discovered, were amusing. But though some went hungry to bed the first night, Experience, the mother of wisdom, taught a needed lesson for all travellers on the Amour River--to lay in a sufficient store from the first platter, and not trust to the “hereafter.” After that no one omitted the first course.

I dwell somewhat at length on these details, because, so far as my experience of Siberian river-steamers goes--and this experience became somewhat large and varied before we reached Stretinsk, twenty days later--they are characteristic of all river travel in Siberia.

The steward, to whom I have already alluded, was a sadly overworked individual. He was waiter, cook, bell-boy, chambermaid, boots, and man-of-all-work for all the twenty first-class passengers, and, as can be imagined, no grass was allowed to grow under his feet. To be sure, his duties as chambermaid were merely nominal, for every one took care of his own room, furnished his own bedding, and made his own bed, and all had to wash in a common lavatory and furnish their own towel, soap, and, of course, all toilet articles. This common washroom arrangement was the most unpleasant feature of the _Baron Korff_, and we had occasionally to remind ourselves that we were in the extreme boundaries of Siberia. Who, then, had a right to look for all the luxuries of the latest civilization?

At length we were embarked on the long river journey to which we had so long been looking forward, and about which we had heard such various and contradictory reports. For months we had made it a point to inquire of every one likely to know concerning the trans-Siberian route. No two people agreed concerning it, or came within sight of agreement. “It can’t be done,” “You can do it easily,” “It will take two months,” “You can go through in twenty-two days,” “You will get stuck on the sand-bars for weeks,” “You will have no difficulty whatsoever,” “The steamers run only occasionally, and do not begin until the 11th of June,” “They run every day, and the river is open early in May,” “You will need heavy clothes, and all your winter furs,” “You will find delightful summer weather,” “You will have to ride in cattle-cars when you get to the end of your boat journey,” “You will have the most luxurious railway accommodations in the world.”

Such were the varied and miscellaneous bits of misinformation which we had been able to pick up in America, Japan, China, and even in Vladivostock itself. But now the journey on the great waterway of Siberia had begun. The paddle-wheels of the _Baron Korff_ had begun to revolve, we were to be among the first few score of people who had crossed the Russias by steam, and we should soon know which of these conflicting stories were correct, or whether they were all alike untrustworthy.