Cæsar Cascabel/Part 1/Chapter XV

CHAPTER XV. PORT CLARENCE.
PORT CLARENCE is the most northwesterly port of northern America on Behring Strait. Lying to the south of Cape Prince of Wales, it is deeply sunk into that portion of the coast which forms the nose in the face profiled by the configuration of Alaska. This port affords very safe anchorage, and is therefore duly appreciated by seamen, especially by the whalers whose boats seek their fortune in the Arctic seas.

The Fair Rambler had taken up its camping ground near the inner shore of the harbor, close to the mouth of a small river, under shelter of tall rocks crowned with a cluster of stunted birch trees. There, the longest halt of the whole journey was to be made. There, the little troupe would take a lengthy rest,—a rest enforced by the condition of the strait, the surface of which had not become solid yet, at this time of the year.

Needless to say that the Fair Rambler could not possibly have crossed it on board the Port Clarence ferry-boats, mere fishing canoes of very small tonnage. It was then obligatory to adhere to the plan of getting over to the Asiatic side when the sea would be transformed into an immense ice-field.

This long halt was not to be regretted, previous to undertaking the second portion of the journey that would witness the commencement of the real physical difficulties, the struggle against the cold, the battling with the snowstorms—at least for so long as the Fair Rambler would not have reached the more accessible territories of southern Siberia. Until then some weeks, some months perhaps, of hardships would have to be passed, and it should be a cause of rejoicing to have plenty of time to complete the preparations for so severe an ordeal. For, if the Indians at Fort Nulato had been able to supply certain articles, there were others wanting still, which Mr. Cascabel expected to purchase either from the traders, or from the natives at Port Clarence.

The consequence was that his staff experienced a feeling of genuine satisfaction when he gave out his well-known word of command:

“Stand at ease!”

And this order, always welcomed on the march or in military maneuvers, was immediately followed by another, loudly called by young Sander:

“Dismiss!”

And the troupe did dismiss, you may believe it.

As may be imagined, the arrival of the Fair Rambler at Port Clarence had not escaped notice. Never had such a perambulating machine ventured so far, since it had now reached the very utmost confines of northern America. For the first time did French showmen appear to the wondering eyes of the natives.

There were then at Port Clarence, over and above its usual population of Eskimos and traders, not a few Russian officials. They were men who, consequent upon the annexation of Alaska to the United States, were under orders to cross the strait and repair either to the Tchuktchi peninsula on the coast of Asia, or to Petropaulovski, the capital of Kamtchatka. These officials joined the whole population in the hearty welcome they gave to the Cascabel family, and it is worthy of notice that the Eskimos' greeting, in particular, was most cordial.

They were the same Eskimos who were to be met in these parts, twelve years later, by the famous navigator Nordenskiold, at the time of that bold expedition in which he discovered the northeast passage. Even now, some of these natives were armed with revolvers and repeating guns, the first gifts of American civilization.

The summer season being scarcely over, the natives at Port Clarence had not returned to their winter dwellings yet. They were encamped under small tents, pitched not without elegance, made of thick, brightly variegated cotton cloth and strengthened with straw matting. Inside might be seen a number of utensils manufactured with cocoanut shells.

And when Clovy saw these utensils for the first time, he exclaimed:

“I say!—And cocoanuts grow here, then? in the Eskimos' forests?”

“Unless,” answered Mr. Sergius,—“unless these nuts be brought here from the islands of the Pacific, and given in payment by the whalers who call at Port Clarence.”

And Mr. Sergius was right. Indeed, the relations between the Americans and the natives were already progressing rapidly at this time, and a fusion was taking place between them, entirely to the advantage of the development of the Eskimo race.

In this connection, we may draw attention to the fact, which will be noticed hereafter, that there exists no conformity of type or manners between the Eskimos of American origin and the natives of Siberia in Asia. The Alaskan tribes do not even understand the language which is spoken west of Behring Strait. But their dialect having a very considerable admixture of English and Russian words, it was no very hard task to carry on a conversation with them.

It therefore follows that, immediately on their being settled, the Cascabels endeavored to hold intercourse with the natives scattered around Port Clarence. As they were hospitably received in the tents of these good people, they felt no hesitation in opening for them the doors of the Fair Rambler,—and neither party had cause to repent this interchange of friendly relations.

These Eskimos, besides, are much more civilized than is generally believed. They are popularly looked upon as a sort of speech-endowed seals, human-faced amphibious creatures, judging of them by the clothing they are in the habit of wearing, especially in winter time. But this is in no way concurrent with facts. At Port Clarence, the representatives of the Eskimo race are neither repulsive to behold nor unpleasant to associate with. Some of them even carry their regard for fashion to the extent of dressing almost after European style. Most of them obey a certain code of coquetry, which regulates the making of a gannent in reindeer or in sealskin, the “pask” in marmot's fur, the tattooing of the face, that is, a few lines slightly drawn on the skin. The scanty beard of the men is cut short; at each corner of their lips three holes, skillfully drilled, enable them to hang thereby small carved-bone rings, and the cartilage of their noses receives likewise certain ornaments of the same kind.

In a word, the Eskimos, who came and paid their duties to the Cascabel family, wore by no means an objectionable appearance,—the appearance, for instance, but too often presented by the Samoyedes or the other natives of the Asiatic coast. The young girls wore strings of pearls in their ears, and, on their arms, iron or brass bracelets of very fair workmanship.

It should also be noted that they were honest people, full of good faith in their transactions, though they be given to bargaining and haggling to excess. Forsooth, upbraiding the natives of the Arctic regions for such a fault would be severe indeed.

The most perfect equality reigns among them. Their clans have even no chieftains. As to their religion, it is paganism. By way of divinities, they worship wooden posts, with carved faces painted red, which represent various sorts of birds whose wings are stretched out to their full, like so many fans. Their morals are pure; their sense of home duties highly developed; they respect their parents, love their children, and revere the dead. The remains of the latter are exposed in the open air, dressed in holiday attire, with their weapons and cayak lying by their side.

The Cascabels took great pleasure in their daily walks round about Port Clarence. Not unfrequently, likewise, they paid a visit to an old oil-factory, of American foundation, which was still working at this season.

The country is not without trees, nor does the appearance of the vegetating soil differ much from that which is presented by the peninsula of the Tchuktchis on the other side of the strait. This is due to the fact that along the coast of the New Continent there flows a warm current from the burning seas of the Pacific, whereas the cold current that bathes the Siberian coast comes from the basin of the boreal seas.

As a matter of course the thought of giving a performance to the natives at Port Clarence did not enter Mr. Cascabel's mind. He now felt misgivings on that point, and he had cause to. What if among them were acrobats, and jugglers, and clowns as expert in their art as those of the Indian tribes at Fort Yukon!

Better not run the risk of compromising the honor of the family once more!

Meanwhile the days passed by, and, in reality, the little troupe had a longer rest than it needed. No doubt but one week's rest at Port Clarence would have enabled them to attack the fatigues of their journey through Siberian wastes.

But the Fair Rambler was still forbidden the strait. By the end of September, and at this latitude, even though the mean temperature was already below zero, the arm of the sea which separates Asia from America was not frozen yet. True, numerous icebergs passed by, accumulated in the open sea on the verge of the basin of Behring, and were drifted northward along the Alaskan coast by the current from the Pacific. But these icebergs had to cohere into one solid mass ere they offered the gigantic, firm, and steady ice-field we spoke of, a veritable “carriage-drive” between the two continents.

It was evident that on this sheet of ice with a power of resistance sufficient to bear a train of artillery, the Fair Rambler and its occupants would run no risk. The strait, indeed, measured but some sixty miles across its narrowest width, from Cape Prince of Wales, somewhat above Port Clarence, to the little port of Numana, on the Siberian coast. “Verily, verily,” said Mr Cascabel, “it is a great pity the Americans did not run up a bridge here.”

“Sixty miles of a bridge!” exclaimed Sander.

“Why not?” remarked John. “It might be supported, in the middle of the strait, by the Isle of Diomede.”

“The feat would not be impossible,” rejoined Mr. Sergius; “and one may indulge the belief that it will be done some day, like everything that the intelligence of man can achieve.”

“Why! They are even now talking of bridging the British Channel over,” said John.

“You are right, my friend,” said Mr. Sergius. “Still, let us own it, a bridge across Behring Strait would not prove so useful as one from Calais to Dover. Positively, the former would not cover its expenses!”

“Although it were but of little use for the generality of travelers,” suggested Cornelia, “to us at least it would be a boon.”

“Why! Now that I think of it,” answered Mr. Cascabel, “the bridge here does exist for two-thirds of the year, an ice bridge, as strong as any bridge made of iron or stone! Dame Nature it is who builds it every year when the ice breaks up at the pole, and she charges no toll on it!”

With his habit of taking things by their best side, Mr. Cascabel was quite right. What was the use of spending millions on a bridge, when both foot travelers and carriages need only await the favorable moment to obtain a safe thoroughfare?

And sure enough the thing would shortly come to pass now. A little more patience was all that was needed.

About the 7th of October it became apparent that winter had set in, in downright earnest. Snow showers were frequent. All trace of vegetation had disappeared. The few trees along the shore, spoiled of their last leaves, were covered with rime. Not one of those sickly-looking plants of the Boreal regions could be seen, so closely allied to those of Scandinavia; not one of those linnearia which make up the greatest part of the Arctic flora.

However, if the blocks of ice still floated through the strait, thanks to the swiftness of the current, they increased in breadth and thickness. Even as a good blast of heat is sufficient to solder metals, even so a good blast of cold was all that was now needed to solder together the pieces of the icefield. This blast might be expected from one day to another.

At the same time, if the Cascabels longed to be able to avail themselves of the strait and to leave Port Clarence, if it was a joy for them to think of setting their feet once again on the Old Continent, that joy was not unmingled with bitterness. That hour would be the hour of parting. They would leave Alaska, no doubt, but Mr. Sergius would remain in the country, since there was no question of his going further westward. And, winter over, he would resume his excursions through that portion of America of which he desired to complete the exploration and visit the districts lying north of the Yukon and beyond the mountains.

A cruel parting it would be for all; for, all were now bound, not by the bonds of sympathy alone but by a very close friendship!

The most aggrieved, it will be guessed, was John. Could he forget that Mr. Sergius would take Kayette away with him? And, still, was it not to the young girl's interest that her future prospects should be in the hands of her new father? With whom could they be in better keeping than with Mr. Sergius? He had made her his adopted daughter, he would bring her to Europe, he would get her educated, and would assure her a position that she would never have found in the home of a poor showman. In the face of such advantages, were it possible to hesitate? No, assuredly! and John was the first to acknowledge it. Still he none the less experienced a feeling of sorrow which his ever increasing sadness betrayed but too plainly. How could he have mastered his feelings? Part with Kayette, see her no more, see her no more even when she would be so far from him physically and morally, when she would have taken her place in the family circle of Mr. Sergius; give up the pleasant habit they had grown into of chatting together, working together, being always near one another, all this was heart-breaking. John loved Kayette; he loved her with a real love, a love he had revealed in the attentions he paid her, in the trembling of his voice when he spoke to her. That love was requited, perhaps, even unknown to the young girl! All that would be broken when they should part, part perhaps forever.

On the other hand, if John felt very wretched, his father and his mother, his brother and his sister, deeply attached to Kayette, could not grow accustomed to the thought of parting with her, or with Mr. Sergius either. They would have given “a big sum,” as Mr. Cascabel put it, for Mr. Sergius to accompany them to the end of their journey. They would have a few months more, at least, to spend with him, and then—why, then—they would see.

We have mentioned above that the inhabitants of Port Clarence had taken a great liking for the Cascabels, and no little apprehension was felt on their behalf as the time drew near when they would venture among the too real dangers of their journey. But, interested as they were in these French people who had come from such a distance and were going so far away, some of the Russians, recently arrived at the strait, were inclined to observe the individual members of the party, and more especially Mr. Sergius, with a very different kind of interest.

The reader will not have forgotten that there sojourned, then, at Port Clarence, a certain number of officials recalled on Siberian territory, owing to the annexation of Alaska.

Among them were two agents entrusted with a very special supervision on the American territories subjected to the Muscovite administration. It was their mission to watch the political refugees to whom New Britain offered an asylum, and who might be tempted to cross the Alaskan frontier. Now, this Russian, who had become the guest and companion of a showman's troupe, this Mr. Sergius whose journey happened to terminate just at the very limit of the Czar's empire, had somewhat aroused their suspicions, and they watched him accordingly, but with sufficient caution to escape notice.

Little did Mr. Sergius dream of his being the object of suspicious watching. He, too, had his mind full of the approaching parting. Was he wavering between his project to resume his excursions through Western America, and the thought of giving it up, so as to follow his new friends to Europe? It would have been hard to say. However, seeing him very pensive, Mr. Cascabel determined to bring him to an explanation on this subject.

One evening, the 11th of October, after supper, turning to Mr. Sergius, as though he spoke of quite a new thing:

“By the way, Mr. Sergius,” said he, “you know we shall soon start for your country?”

“Of course, my friends. That's agreed on.”

“Yes! We are going to Russia; and, as luck would have it, we shall pass through Perm, where your father lives, if I mistake not.”

“Quite so, and your departure excites both my regret and my envy!”

“Mr. Sergius,” inquired Cornelia, “do you propose to stay much longer in America?”

“Much longer? I hardly know.”

“And when you come back to Europe, which way will you come?”

“I shall return by the Far West, as my explorations will naturally bring me back toward New York, and it is there I shall take ship, with Kayette.”

“With Kayette!” murmured John, as he looked toward the girl, who hung down her head.

A few moments' silence followed. Then Mr. Cascabel began again, hesitatingly:

“Now, Mr. Sergius, I am going to beg leave to make a proposal to you. Of course I am aware that it will be very hard to pull thorough that devilish Siberia! But with a good heart and a will—”

“My friend,” replied Mr. Sergius, “be persuaded that I am frightened neither by the dangers nor by the fatigues, and I would share them with you willingly, if—”

“Why not complete our journey together?” asked Cornelia.

“It would be so nice!” added Sander.

“And I would give you such a kiss if you said yes!” exclaimed Napoleona.

John and Kayette had breathed not a word, but their hearts beat violently.

“My dear Cascabel,” said Mr. Sergius, after a few moments' reflection, “I should like to have a chat with yourself and your wife.”

“At your service, sir, this very moment.”

“No, to-morrow,” answered Mr. Sergius.

Thereupon, each one retired to his little bed, both very uneasy and singularly puzzled.

What motive had Mr. Sergius for this private conversation? Had he made up his mind to alter his plans, or, on the contrary, did he simply mean to enable the Cascabels to accomplish their journey under better conditions by making them accept some money?

Be that as it might, neither John nor Kayette had one hour's sleep that night.

Next day, in the course of the morning, the conversation did take place. Not through any distrust of the children, but for fear of being overheard by the natives or other people who continually passed by, Mr. Sergius asked Mr. and Mrs. Cascabel to accompany him a certain distance away from the encampment. Doubtless, what he had to say was important, and it was advisable to keep it secret.

All three walked up the beach in the direction of the oil factory, and this is how the conversation began:

“My friends,” said Mr. Sergius, “listen to me, and ponder well ere you give your answer to the proposal I am about making to you. Of your good heart I have no doubt, and you have shown me to what extent your devotion can go. But, before you take one final resolution, you must know who I am.”

“Who you are? Why, you are an honest man, of course!” cried Cascabel.

“Well, be it so, an honest man,” repeated Mr. Sergius; “but an honest man who is desirous not to add, by his presence, to the dangers of your journey through Siberia.”

“Your presence a danger, Mr. Sergius?” said Cornelia.

“Quite so, for my name is Count Sergius Narkine. I am a political outlaw!”

And Mr. Sergius briefly related his history.

Count Sergius Narkine belonged to an opulent family in the Government of Perm. As he had stated previously, he had quite a passion for geographical sciences and discoveries, and he had spent his youth in travels and voyages in every part of the world.

Unfortunately, he had not confined himself to those bold undertakings where he might have acquired great celebrity. He had mixed himself up with politics, and, in 1857, had been compromised in a secret society which he had been led to join. In short, the members of this society were arrested, tried with all the severity peculiar to the Russian government, and, for the most part, sentenced to transportation for life in Siberia.

Count Sergius Narkine was among the majority. He had to start for Iakoutsk, the locality assigned to him, and part with his only surviving relative, his father. Prince Wassili Narkine, now an octogenarian, who resided on his estate at Walska, near Perm.

After spending five years at Iakoutsk, the prisoner had succeeded in making his escape to Okhotsk on the coast of the sea of that name. There he had been able to take passage on board a ship sailing for one of the Californian ports; and it was thus that, for seven years past, Count Sergius Narkine had lived either in the United States or in New England, always endeavoring to get nearer to Alaska and to enter it as soon as it should become American. Yes! his heart's fond hope was to return to Europe by way of Siberia,—the very thing projected, and now being carried out, by Cascabel. His feelings may be imagined, the first time he heard that the people to whom he owed his life were on their way to Behring Strait for the very purpose of passing into Asia.

Naturally he would have wished for nothing more than to accompany them. But, could he expose them to the reprisals of the Russian government? If it became known that they had “aided and abetted” the return of a political exile to the Muscovite empire, what would happen? And yet, his poor old father! how glad he would be to see him once more!

“Well then, come, Mr. Sergius, come along with us!” exclaimed Cornelia.

“Your liberty, my friends, your lives perhaps, will be at stake, if it is known that—”

“And what matter, Mr. Sergius?” said Cascabel. “We all have an account open, there above, haven't we? Well, let us try to get as many good actions as we can on the credit side! They'll balance the bad ones!”

“Do bear in mind, my dear Cascabel—”

“Besides, you'll never be known, Mr. Sergius! We know a trick or two, we do; and hang me if we aren't a match for all the agents of the Russian police.”

“Still—” continued the Count.

“And then, why—if needs be—you might dress like ourselves; unless you were ashamed.”

“Oh! my friend!”

“And who would ever get it into his head that Count Narkine was a member of the Cascabel troupe?”

“Well, I accept, my friends! Yes! I accept! And I thank you.”

“That will do,—that will do,” said the showman. “Do you think we haven't as many thanks to offer you, ourselves! And so then. Count Narkine—”

“Do not call me Count Narkine. I must continue to be simpy Mr. Sergius for everybody, even for your children.”

“You are right. It is needless they should know. That's a settled thing! You come with us, Mr. Sergius. And I, Cæser Cascabel, undertake to bring you to Perm, or—may I lose my name!—which would be an irretrievable loss for art, you will confess.”

As to the welcome accorded to Mr. Sergius on his return to the Fair Rambler when John, Kayette, Sander, Napoleona, and Clovy heard that he would accompany them to Europe, it will be readily imagined without any need of description.

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1 Verne: “Pas-de-Calais”; the French name for the Strait of Dover. This is a reference to the narrowest part of the British (or English) Channel.

César Cascabel/Première partie/Chapitre XV