CHAPTER XXX

NIZHNAYA-KARA—NEW LIFE—STOLEN GOLD

Nizhnaya-Kara, where the penal settlement was situated, had an appearance quite peculiar to itself. The dwelling-houses were at some minutes’ distance from the prison, on a hill-slope descending to the banks of the River Kara, whose bed contains gold-dust and in summer becomes almost completely dry. The place had nothing of the Russian village about it, either in the style of its buildings or its inhabitants. The latter were mostly convicts, both men and women; besides whom there were a few peasants, descendants of former convicts, or of the crown colonists who had been settled here as drudges in the gold-workings. Then there was an infantry battalion of Cossacks stationed here for the purpose of keeping guard over the prison; and finally there were numerous prison officials and Cossack officers.

The mixed nature of the population was evidenced by the variety of their dwellings. Ordinary criminals who were unmarried lived in barracks, where the Cossacks also were housed; the officers and prison officials inhabited neat little houses belonging to the State; and the “politicals” and married criminals lived in wretched tumbledown hovels. Besides the classes already enumerated, there were three tradesmen in Kara, each of whom kept a small general shop.

THE PENAL SETTLEMENT, KARA

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At first we had great difficulty in finding accommodation; for of course it was not possible at once to run up 301habitations for twenty men, all let out of prison at the same time, and we were obliged to put up with lodgings where a number of persons were crowded into each single room. In other ways too there was much inconvenience and discomfort during those early days of freedom; but on the whole our change was distinctly for the better. Merely to have got rid of the detested turnkeys was a joy; we rejoiced also at being free from the barbarous head-shaving, and we might once more wear our own clothes. We were permitted to take up some handicraft, but the exercise of the so-called “liberal professions” was forbidden us. The regulations as to our correspondence were also less severe; we could write letters to our relations, and a number of newspapers that were prohibited in prison were allowed here. But above all, we might now go about freely at all hours, and wander in the neighbourhood of the village to our heart’s content.

On our exit from prison we were placed under the supervision of the staff controlling the ordinary convicts, and shortly after the gendarmerie disappeared from Kara for good. Every morning a prison inspector made the rounds of the settlement with his book, which we had to sign, so that the authorities might be satisfied that none of us were missing. We were not allowed to go beyond ten versts from the village without a special permission from the superintendent—that same Pohorukov whom Fomitchov had assailed.

Our material condition was considerably more comfortable now than it had been in prison. Besides the means of livelihood that had hitherto been available—rations from the State and money sent from home—many of us could now earn something by private exertion. We still preserved our organisation as when in prison, with certain modifications rendered necessary by our new circumstances; we still formed an artèl and elected a stàrosta to arrange the details of our common life. Of course, our domestic economy had considerably extended its sphere; 302we had now much to think of that had not entered into our consideration before.

Autumn brought a good deal of heavy labour for all able-bodied men. Trees had to be felled and carted to serve as winter fuel, and then the wood had to be chopped small for use. In the winter the hay needed for our cattle had to be brought in, for we possessed six cows and four horses. In the spring we looked after our gardens, and in the summer we made hay in the meadows. Cooking was still managed in common, groups of us carrying it out in turn. There was always plenty for all hands to do, and the work was often very hard. I myself found the labour of the winter season extremely severe. It meant rising at three or four o’clock in the morning to harness the horses—a task difficult and disagreeable enough always in the Siberian cold, and a perfect misery in the small hours of the morning—and then driving the sledge ten or twelve versts, loading it with hay, and finishing our job so as to return home by nightfall. Two of us at a time had to load and fetch home four great waggon-loads of hay. Naturally we were very clumsy over the unaccustomed labour, and it happened often enough that ropes would break and the hay get scattered, or that the horses would stray away. In our heavy sheepskins and felt boots we had each as much as we could manage in conducting two heavy waggons on the homeward journey; and despite the extreme cold we used often to be bathed in perspiration.

Yet the hard physical work had a charm of its own. It gave one a quite peculiar sensation to be driving along in the dark over the smooth, white surface of the snow, on and on into the depths of the forest. The profoundest silence reigned everywhere, broken by the crackling of the snow under the horses’ hoofs and the runners of the sledge, and sometimes by the distant howling of a wolf. Myriads of stars sparkled in the firmament, and not a trace of man’s existence was anywhere to be seen. But the cruel 303cold, increasing in severity towards dawn, would soon drive away all poetical ideas. The frost penetrated our sheepskins, and we felt as if we were being pricked all over our bodies with sharp needles. Often the brandy in our flasks would freeze, and although we took all possible precautions, the glass would split and the spirit be left in a frozen lump.

COTTAGE SHARED BY “POLITICALS” IN THE KARA PENAL SETTLEMENT

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These expeditions, fortunately, were not of very frequent occurrence, the turn of each man coming only about three or four times in the course of the winter. The fetching of wood, on the other hand, was continually necessary; but although this, too, entailed considerable exertion, it was not nearly so serious an undertaking.

After a spell of hard work it used to feel luxury indeed to be back in one’s own house. The little peasant hut in which I dwelt seemed a perfect palace, and I thought it most comfortable; though any spoilt child of civilisation would have seen much to be improved in it. Nearly a third of its space was taken up by a great Russian stove, which unfortunately often smoked; doors and windows shut very imperfectly; and in both floor and walls there were great cracks, through which the wind whistled everlastingly, despite my continual efforts to stop them up. But all these were petty details that could not detract from the charm of having a “home” of one’s own. Only those who have themselves undergone the martyrdom of never being alone for an instant, and of feeling always conscious that the eyes of others are upon one’s every action, can properly realise that charm. To have the enjoyment of that independent solitude it was worth while putting up with a number of small inconveniences that might to a certain extent have been avoided by a ménage-à-deux. It was only an occasional pair of bosom friends who chose to live in that fashion. Most of us much preferred to undertake singly the duties of housekeeping—stoking the stove, carrying water, cleaning, etc.

My hut, which, when I took possession of it, was in 304a state of extreme disrepair, was the property of the State. With my own hands I mended it up as well as I could. It stood a little apart from the other dwellings, at the end of the village, on the slope of a hill, and close to the little cemetery. At first I used to feel some anxiety over the insecurity of the door; a push from without was sufficient to open it, and this was hardly agreeable when one knew that round about dwelt all sorts of criminals—some very queer customers among them. However, I soon found that I had no cause to fear anything from these people; and when I returned home late at night by lonely ways and bypaths, I felt as safe as in the best-policed town.

One of the most notorious criminals in the settlement was a man named Lissenko. It was reported of him that in one of his robberies he had killed a whole family—men, women, and children. He was about sixty when I first knew him, and still had the strength of a giant. He struck me as being crafty, cunning, and reckless, but not a malicious kind of fellow, and he was extremely pious withal. No one who knew him personally could easily believe him to have murdered innocent children. I was curious to learn from himself how much truth there was in the reports that were current concerning him, and I found an opportunity one day of questioning him on the subject.

“Yes, of course it’s true,” said he. “What about it?”

“But how could you have the heart to kill a child?” a friend of mine asked him.

“Oh, I cried all the time I was doing it, but still I killed them,” was the answer. “It was just God’s will. If He had not willed it I should not have been able to commit the murder; I should have been struck down myself. So it was really God who made me do it.”

My friend (from whom Lissenko seemed to stand a good deal) then asked—

“Well, and would you murder me, if you met me in a safe place?”

305“If I knew you had a lot of money about you I should certainly wring your neck,” said the man, with cheerful frankness. “But there! one doesn’t kill without some good reason!”

Lissenko was at that time carrying on a very risky illegal trade: he was a receiver of “stolen gold,” and smuggled spirits. I must explain that gold could be found in considerable quantities in the neighbourhood and worked with the greatest ease. Equipped with a shovel and a wooden vessel for washing, men and women repaired to the River Kara and other neighbouring streams, and could without difficulty get gold-dust to the value of one or two roubles in a single day. Though strictly prohibited by the Government, this private search for gold is practised almost openly. Those who do not themselves look for gold yet traffic in it; and practically the entire population, except the political prisoners, is engaged in the illicit trade. Nobody—one or two really honest officials perhaps excepted—makes any scruple about infringing the law; thousands make their livelihood in this way, and many even grow rich. I knew whole families, some members of which went off as regularly every day on the quest as though it were the most lawful affair in the world. No one—not even officials—found anything to protest against in this breaking of the law; on the contrary, everyone in the place, except those few persons whose interests were concerned on the other side, looked upon it as quite natural that the gold-seekers should make the most of their labour, and take the treasure that the soil offered. No attention was paid to the arbitrary decree which declared that treasure to be the Tsar’s private property—or, as it was officially expressed, “the property of His Majesty’s Cabinet”; and notwithstanding the heavy expense incurred by the responsible authorities to protect the gold-fields of the district, far more gold is obtained by unlawful than by lawful means. The receivers of the stolen treasure, and other middlemen, can always find a way to convey their merchandise 306over the border into China, where it fetches a far higher price than that given by “the Cabinet of His Majesty.”

Meanwhile all authorities agree that the illicit gold-finders have conferred immeasurable benefit on the country. They are the true pioneers, who, wandering about the “Taiga” or virgin forests in all directions, seeking deposits of precious metals, are to be thanked for the discovery of numberless gold-fields—among them some of the most prolific of all. Certainly little enough profit falls to the share of the pirates themselves; most of them remain poor and needy all their lives, hardly earning their daily bread; and many of them become slaves of the middlemen. It would take me too long to describe further the lives and doings of these gold pirates; suffice it to say that they inhabit a curiously interesting little world of their own—a state within the state—with its own strictly administered laws and peculiar customs.