THE SIBERIAN EXILES.

Auckland Star, Volume XXIII, Issue 297, 14 December 1892, Page 7

THE SIBERIAN EXILES.

±J B3T COL. THOMAS W. KNOX, mz&or of "Across America and Asia,'1 * " The Boy Travellers," etc.

,:';'.. CHAPTER XXII, ' GENERAL KUKUSHKA—STORY OF AH ESCAPED CONVICT. IFiie prisoners expected to be set at work again in the mines), bub before the snows had melted, an order came from. St. Peters, burg thab they were to be kept in close confinement, their chains never to be.re: moved, and all work in the mines, was to be performed by the criminal convicts. Thi 3 facilitated the carrying oub of the plo fc to escape, which was already well under way. The change from winter to spring in many parts- of Siberia is like, a transformation scene in a theatre. On a certain Sunday, Pushkin relates, that the ground was covered with snow and the rivers were frozen as they had been for months. Suddenly on Monday a strong and warm wind from the south set it, and by nightfall the snow and ice were melting rapidly. By Thursday the snow was gone from the hills and valleys, and the rivers were filled with floating ice, which was making its way with the swift current toward the sea. The melting snows turned the river into a flood, and by the following Sunday, the stream was clear of ice. In a few days: the trees were budding and the grc,-id, \«as green with the up-springing gr:: , s apd in less than a fortnight, ie was thickly carpeted with flowers. Birds were singin. among the trees, and the cuckoo sounded his familiar call in every direction. It was the call for thp. prisoner to escape, at letist such ia the Siberian interpretation. The cuckoo is known amoug the convicts as 'General Kukushka,' and when they hear his call, they say that the general *b summoning them to assemble under his banners and it is_ their duty to obey. Ab such times if there is any chance of escape thoy eagerly embrace ib, though well knowing they are yery likely to be recaptured and returned to prison, with severe punishment for what fcbey have done. * Why did you run away,' said a prison tofficial to an old convict, who had won the friendship of everybody by his good conduct fetid received many favours in consequence. Me had been relieved of aU supervision and was employed about the stable of one of m& officers. He was well led and had very light work, and was so old that it was supposed he would be entirely contented to remain where he was. 'General Kukushkacalled me, and I was Obliged to go,'waß his reply. ' 1 hear him calling again; and if you want to keep me, you must lock me up so that I can't get away.' Instances have been known where exiles in whab is known as the ' Free Command ' have gone to the officers in tho early springtime and asked to be sent to prison * until General Kukushka has stopped calling.' jl'hey did not want to run away, bub felt that they could not resist the summons of Sylvan commander. The Free Command consists of those Who are allowed to live outside of prison in houses designated for them to occupy. They musb report daily to the police, and be subject to domiciliary visits at any time. They are practically in the condition described in the settlement where Ivan and his friends were living when we last saw them. Those who have been followed to Siberia by their families may live with them, all the members of the families being under the came regulations as the exiles themselves.

Escape from the Free Command is not at all difficult, as no guards are kept about the "houses, and if an exile departs immediately atter reporting ab the police-oface, or being visited in his house, he can get several hours starb before his absence is discovered. But if he is brought back, he is punished perhaps with a flogging, and certainly he will be sent again to tho prison of whoso borrors he knows by practical experience.

Among the prisoners in the Icamera occupied by Pushkin and Dubayeff there Were several who had heeded the summons (of the cuckoo and • taken to the woods' in the hope of getting away from Siberia. ijAs the plan for escaping was discussed Bach of these men told his story, in the fullest confidence that it would nob be repeated to official ears. * I was in the Free Command,' said one, Whom we will call Onossoff, though that was not his real name, ' and did a little gold washing on my own account. You know it is; againsb the rule for any convict to have " golden wheat" in his possession, and the same rule applies to all the traders who deal wibh us. But they and we are willing to run the risk. The trader gets a large profit, as we are obliged to take what he will give us, and neither party to the transaction is likely to make any complainc about the other. Well, I had a good run of luck, as I found a little placer only a short distance from the village, where I could work three or four hours a day without being discovered.

' With the gold I bocghb a passport. It j was a forged one, bub as ib was on paper bearing the government) stamp it answered toy purpose. ' Then I bought some clothes that suited ihe person described in the document. I became, for the time, a low-bred peasant — a regular mujik— unable to read or write ; and in order to represent him fully it was necessary for me to have a wig, which I made myself. My hair would have enabled any one to detect me, even if there had been nothing else in my appearance to arouse suspicion.' * How did you manage to make it ?' one of his auditors asked. Onossoff paused a moment as though it was a secret he didn't care to reveal. His questioner apologised for the interrogatory and promised to ask no more questions. 'I may as well tell you,' said Onossoff, 'as the hint may be useful, though I don't Bare to try the ruse again, and certainly nobody can undertake if. often.

•A rnujih with just the head of hair I •wanted was killed in a drunken row. He had no friends and was hastily buried, and I volunteered to dig his grave, on the pretense that he had been kind to me on Beveral occasions, I dug the grave and didn't dig it deep, and the night after he was buried I went out, re-opened the grave and took off his entire scalp. You see, he had no further need for his hair, while I could make it very useful; besides, I wanted to make good my words that the man had been kind to me.' The listeners shook their heads, as if intimating that a wig obtained in that way would hardly be an agreeable article of Wear. Onossoff divined their thoughts, and continued: "That wig certainly helped me very touch, but I had constantly before me the thought of how I got it. Whenever I wore it, my head used to ache, and you may be sure I threw it away as soon as I could. No, I didn't throw it away, but gave it decent burial, though its grave was a long distance from where I obtained it. •After I got the wig, a difficulty that I bad notthought of confronted me. You see, toy beard is'black, while that mujik's hair *tfas red. .He had a red beard, top ; but I left that alone in the grave, as I didn't be«sve I could attach ib to my face so as to,

defy detection. A false beard Will answer on the stage of a theatre, bub nob in actual every-day lifo. ' I hunted around for red hair dye, but my search was a failure. That kind doesn't" seem to be made, and so I was forced to fall back on a decoction of laurel bark and lime-water, in addition to allowing my beard to be constantly dirty. In this way I got along very well. 'It was from the Nertchinsk mines that I escaped, and not from Kara, and ib was two or throe weeks from the time I was all ready that I ventured to starb. I had managed to get a fair map of the country between the mines and the town of Nertchinsk, and after selling all my gold-dust, L had. nearly a hundred rubles left, with everything paid for. 'One night, I started oub with a large loaf of- bread, a -few pieces of meat and a little, salt in a packet. I determined to avoid the road, though I would keep near it, and most of my travelling was done at night. I lived on my bread and meat and such edible roots as I could find in the forest or along the stretches of open country that I was often obliged to cross. The stars ab night were my guides and tho sun by day, when_?«? I ventured oub iv the daytime. But even without them I could have found my way, as the road follows the valloy of the Nertcha to where it joins the Shilka at "Nertchinsk. 'Not once did I go near a house until I had passed beyond Nertchinsk and was on the road to Chita. I saw two or three groups of mounted soldiers passing along theroad, and knew that they were ecouringthe country in hope of finding me. By the time I had passed Nertchinsk, to which I gave a wide berth, nob going near enough to see more than the dome of the church, I was out of food and could find nothing in the ground to sustain life. The case was desperate, and I found that I must risk my freedom or starve.

' I was on the top of a hill, whence, looking down the valley in the direction of Nertchinsk, J saw a common teli/ega, which was evidently the property of a peasant. It was going the way I wanted to go, and before it got to the top of the hill I was waiting for it at the roadside. My guess was correct, as it contained nobody except the driver, who proved to be its owner. '"Where are you going, brother?" I asked. '" To Chita." 4"Soam I. My brother lives there. I started to walk all the way from Stratensk to Chita, but have got tired of walking and want to ride-" "Til take you there for a ruble." '"Too much,' 1 said, " Will give you fifty kopecks and help drive when you want to sleep." *" All right. Jump in-" •In I jumped and the teb/ega rattled down the hill. I asked my new friend for some bread and offered to replace it at the next village. Fortunately, he had a loaf, and my hunger waa 60on satisfied. 'At tho top of the next hill,' continued Onossoff, 'my friend got down to fix the harness and I looked from tho rear of the telyega. On the top of the hill over which we had just come I saw a squad of mounted soldiers that wero evidently following as. My friend did not see them, and after he had adjusted the harne?s, I asked if he did not wish to have me drive awhile. ' He was only too glad to have me do so, but just as he was getting inside tho telyega he looked around and discovered the soldiers descending the last hill. He seemed somewhat alarmed, and I immediately concluded that he had done something that was not in conformity with the law. Here was my opportunity. ' Before I go further with you,' said I, 'I must know who you are ; and you want to know who I am. Here is my passporc ; let me see yours.' 'He drew his passport from the breast of his coat, where it was wrapped in a dirty rag, very much like the one in which my passport was inclosed. I saw that his paper was genuine, and, as he could not read, I managed to change documents while they were in my hands. He received my forged paper, rolled it carefully in his rag, and returned the package to his coat.

* Then he suggested that he didn't want the soldiers to see him, and if I had no objections he would hide in a clump of bushes until they had passed. I readily consented, and he jumped out and disappeared while the soldiers were concealed from view by the top of the hill which was between us and the slope they wore ascending.

'I was busy with a piece of broken harness as they came up, and the sergeant in command demanded my passport. I handed out the paper, which ho examined carefully, while two of hiß men overhauled the vehicle to make sure that no one was concealed in it. The sergeant asked if I had seen anybody on foot. I answered in the negative, and he then gave the order to move on.

'Luckily for me he didn't ask me my name, as I hadn't yet had time to memorise the contents of my new passport, and in the excitement of the moment I had not learned from my new acquaintance what it was. Soon as the soldiers were out of sight I called him, and he came out of his place of concealment.

' Exactly why he was so fearful of being seen by the soldiers, he would not tell, and it was no business of mine to know. In fact I didn't consider it wise to appear inquisitive on the subject, and I merely remarked that probably ho svas afraid of the conscription, to which he joyfully assented. Whet i suspected was that he bad been deaiing in the products of an illicit distillery and was afraid of arrest on that account, or possibly he might have been buying gold from the convicts at the mines and had some of it in his possession. 'We got to Chita without further trouble. I was worried about the passports as the police might, have orders to arrest the holder of the cue I carried and also of the forged one I had given to my friend. On the whole I concluded that the forged paper would bo the safer document to bave, and under pretence of looking at them to see how much they looked alike (neither of us being supposed to know how to read), I managed to trade back again. 'At Chita I dropped the fellow after paying him the fifty kopecks agreed upon and from that time on saw nothing more of him. Then I looked around for some kind of employment that would help mo in getting away. The police wero very vigilant, and might fall upon me at any moment, but anyhow they didn't; and in a few days I succeeded in hiring out to a man who had a contract to deliver some goods to a merchant at Verkne Udinsk. The goods consisted of German wines and spirits and American canned provisions that had been brought up the Amoor and Shilka by steamboat and from Stratensk to Chita in waggons. My employer took my passport to "have it properly endorsed along with the papers of 1»3 other drivers, and I had the satisfaction of having it pas 3 through the ordeal without suspicion. I was greatly relieved, as the endorsement by the police-masters at Chita would make the paper go readily in the other offices where I was required to present it. 'In this way I went from place to place, and was never once under suspicion as far as I know. I constantly had a perfectly plausible story at the end of my tongue, but it always gave me a cold shiver when the gendarmes suddenly came around to examine our pasHports, lest there might bo something to indicate that my papers were forgeries. 'On and on I went, sometimes hiring out as a driver of horses to the contractors who do Buch a large business in Siberia. I always accepted every ofl'er of wages, no matter how low, and generally for the sake of throwing any possible inquisitor off the track, I stipulated for employment for the return trip, ottering to engage for lower pay per month than for the single journey. Of course, a return was the farthest thing pos-

Bible from my wisHes, and my apparent) anxiety to get back was a complete foil, if one were needed. i * Eventually I got to Moscow, but two or ' three times, between Tomsk and Kazan, I j thought my fate was Bealed. *At the first large town west of Tomsk j our train, or caravan, was detained to enI able the police to search every man in the party. They made a thorough search, too, and evidently suspected that a runaway convict was among us. They took all the drivers into a room in the police station, and there we were stripped to the skin, one after the other. My wig fairly rose on my head when the operation began, and I already saw myself in chains and on my way back to tbe mines.' 'How did you escape the discovery of your false hair ?' queried one of the listeners. 'Luckily the marks they sought for were on tbe body of the runaway and not on his head,'replied Onossoff, 'and they had no occasion to look above our shoulders. I had bound a rag close around my skull, a very common device of the Russian peasants in cold weather, and so it attracted no attention.' (To be Continued.)