One ship every year. Little to eat. No one to talk to.'
'That's why we sent you there,' interrupted a young officer who had never known hardship.
'You proved incorrigible here, and you'll go back on the next boat, because that's your station now and forever.'
Rudenko blanched, and all the fury he had displayed when dominating the Tsar Ivan and the traders on Kodiak vanished. To face the awful loneliness of the Pribilofs for the rest of his life was more than he could bear, and he began to plead with the officials who controlled his destiny: 'Nothing but rain. Never a tree. In winter, ice binds all things, and when the sun returns, nothing but seals crowding the island.
A boy of six could kill the quota in a week. Then nothing.'
From his huge body with its large muscles and heavy shoulders the fight seemed to drain and certainly the arrogance seemed to vanish. If the judgment was to be that he must get on a small boat and sail back to that bleak land, he knew that he would jump off en route or kill himself after he landed; to waste the years of his life in such barren futility was more than he could absorb: 'Don't send me back!'
The officials were obdurate: 'We sent you there because we could do nothing with you here. There's no place for you in Kodiak.'
In despair, a man flailing about for any escape, he uttered a plea which, though irrelevant, would engage Kodiak for the remainder of his violent life: 'My wife is here! You can't separate a believing Russian and his wife!'
The news astounded his listeners, who turned to one another, asking: 'Has anyone seen this man's wife?' and 'Why weren't we told of this?' The upshot was that the officer in temporary charge of Company affairs said: 'Take him away and let us look into this.'
The investigation was put in charge of a junior naval officer, Ensign Fedor Belov, who initiated inquiries while Rudenko was kept in chains, and as a result of tedious interrogations the young officer learned that the prisoner Rudenko had- indeed purchased an Aleut girl on the island of Lapak and that although he had treated her poorly, he could be considered in some respects her husband. When Belov informed his superiors of this, they became actively concerned, for as the temporary head pointed out: 'We've been ordered by the tsarina to help Russians establish families in these islands, and she said specifically that if native girls converted to Christianity, marriage with them was to be encouraged.' And since the tsarina in question was Catherine the Great, Autocrat of Autocrats, whose probing fingers went everywhere, it was advisable that any ukase issued by her be enforced.
So Ensign Belov was sent back to work, and now the subject of his investigation was Rudenko's supposed wife.
Did she exist? Was she a Christian? Could the marriage be solemnized by Kodiak's solitary Orthodox priest who was drunk most of the time? He tackled the last problem first, and when he found Father Petr, a broken-down clergyman of sixty-seven who had made repeated fruitless appeals for return to Russia, he found the old man ready to comply with any request made by The Company, to which he must look for his meals and lodging: 'Yes, yes! Our adored tsarina, whom God preserve, has instructed us, and our revered bishop in Irkutsk, whom God preserve, worthy man ...' Mention of the bishop's name diverted his thoughts to the seventh appeal he was drafting to that worthy, praying for relief from his arduous duties on Kodiak. Now he lost this thread also, and with a blank stare coming from his heavily bearded white face, he asked humbly: 'What is it you want me to do, young man?'
'Do you recall the trader Yermak Rudenko?'
'No.'
'Big man, very difficult.'
'Yes, yes.'
'He bought a girl on Lapak Island. Aleut, of course.'
'Sailors will do that.'
'He's been on the Seal Islands for almost a year.'
'Yes, yes, a bad one.'
'Would you marry this Rudenko to his Aleut girl?'
'Of course. The tsarina told us toyes, she did.'
'But only if the girl became a Christian. Would you baptize her?'
'Yes, that's what I was sent here for, to baptize. To bring heathens into the love of Jesus Christ.'
'Have you baptized any?'
'A few, they're a stiff-necked lot.'
'But you would baptize and marry this one?'
'Yes, that's what the tsarina ordered. I saw the order, sent out by our bishop in Irkutsk.'
It was apparent to Ensign Belov that this old fellow knew little of what he was doing or ought to be doing. He'd been in the islands several years, had baptized few, married even fewer, and learned none of the languages. He represented the Russian civilizing effort at its worst, and it was into the wide gap left by his lack of missionary zeal that shamans like Lunasaq had been able to slip.
'I'll forward your request to the bishop at Irkutsk,' Belov promised. 'And will you prepare to solemnize this marriage?'
'Thank you, thank you for sending the letter.'
'I asked about the marriage.'
'You know what the tsarina said, may heaven protect Her Royal Highness.'
So Ensign Belov reported to the officials that Rudenko did have a wife of sorts and that Father Petr was prepared to baptize and marry her, as the tsarina had instructed.
When the officials asked if Belov had seen the young woman and did he deem her worthy to become in effect a Russian citizen, he answered: 'Not yet, but I believe she's here in Three Saints and I'll pursue the matter diligently.'
Making further inquiries, he learned that her name was Cidaq and that she was living, if that word could be so used, in a hut whose former owner had been killed in some way; the details were cloudy. To his surprise, she turned out to be a modest young woman, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, not pregnant, exceptionally clean for an Aleut and possessed of an adequate Russian vocabulary. Realizing that she was terrified by his presence but unaware that this was because she feared being implicated in the murder of the trader, a matter which had been quickly dropped, he strove to put her at ease: 'I bring good news, very good news.'
She took a deep breath, for she could not imagine what it might be. 'A great honor is to be bestowed upon you.' He leaned forward when he said this, and she leaned to hear: 'Your husband wants to marry you legally. Russian church. Priest. Baptism.'
He paused, then said with great pomposity: 'Full Russian citizenship.' Holding his position, he smiled at her, and was relieved to see the huge smile that broke across her face. Grabbing her by the hands and suffused by his own joy, he cried: 'Didn't I tell you? Great news!'
'My husband?' she finally asked.
'Yes. Yermak Rudenko. He's come back from the Seal Islands.'
And here began the deception which would enable her to gain her revenge on Rudenko, for with the cunning of a knowing little animal, Cidaq masked any physical or verbal response which might betray her repugnance at the thought she might be rejoined to Rudenko, and in the pause she began to contrive a score of ways by which to pay back this horrible man. But realizing that she must know more before she could take the next step, she feigned delight at hearing about him: 'Where is my husband? How soon can I see him?'
'Not so fast! He's here in Three Saints.' Then the young officer said gravely, as if bringing ultimate dispensation: 'And The Company says that if you marry him properly, he can stay here.'
'Wonderful!' she cried, but then he added the caveat which would enable her to complicate things: 'Of course, you have to convert to Christianity before the church wedding can take place.'
Showing mock horror, she asked: 'Otherwise they'd send him back?'
'Might even shoot him.'
'You mean, he came back without permission?'
'Yes. He was burning to be with you again.'
'Christian? Marriage? Is that all that's needed?'
'Yes, and Father Pe'tr says he's ready to supervise your conversion and marriage.'
Her round face radiant with feigned gratitude, Cidaq smiled at Ensign Belov, thanked him for his heartwarming news, and asked like a young woman deeply in love: 'And when can I s
ee Master Yermak?'
'Right now.'
Three Saints Bay had no jail, which was not surprising, since it had little else that an organized society required, but there was in Company offices a room with no windows and a double door, both parts of which could be kept locked, and when the bolts were shot, the young officer led Cidaq into the dark room where her supposed husband sat in shackles. 'Yermak!' she cried with a joy which pleased but did not surprise the prisoner, for although he realized that he was taking a gamble in relying upon her to achieve his freedom, he was arrogant enough to believe that she would be blinded by this dazzling opportunity to become the lawful wife of a Russian and would forgive him all he had done to her in the past.
'Yermak!' she cried again, like a dutiful wife. Breaking away from Ensign Belov and running to her persecutor, she took his manacled hands, kissed them, and then, pushing her smiling face into his beard, she kissed him again. Belov, witnessing this emotional reunion of a Russian fur trader and the island girl who adored him, sniffled and went off to inform the authorities that the marriage should proceed.
AS SOON AS CIDAQ WAS FREE OF RUDENKO AND BELOV, she hurried to the shaman's hut:
'Lunasaq! I must speak with your mummy!' and when the sealskin pouch was opened, Cidaq revealed with laughter the surprising opportunity that had chanced her way:
'If I marry him, he stays here, and if I don't, back he goes to his seals.'
'Remarkable!' the mummy said. 'Have you seen him?'
'Yes. Manacled. Guarded by a soldier with a gun.'
'And what did you feel when you saw him?'
'I saw him with my hands about his neck, strangled.'
'And what shall you do about this?'
In the time since she first saw Rudenko's hateful face she had perfected her devious strategy: 'I'll make everyone believe I'm happy. I'll let them think I'm going to marry him. I'll talk with him about our life here in Three Saints ...'
'And you'll relish every minute?' the ancient one asked.
'Yes, and at the last moment I'll say "No"and watch as he's dragged back to his forever prison among the seals.'
The mummy, who had been a practical woman in life, which explained her long persistence thereafter, asked, 'But what reason will you give ... for changing your mind?'
In response, Cidaq uttered words which would create the most intricate complications:
'I'll say I'm unable to surrender my old religion and become a Christian.'
At this frivolous statement Lunasaq gasped, for now religion, the essence of his life, was involved, and he foresaw the danger in playing such a game. The withered mummy was left to one side in her sealskin pouch, and Lunasaq, the endangered shaman, took sole control: 'Did you say you were thinking of turning Christian?'
'No, they said it. I'd have to join their church before I could marry Rudenko.'
'Surely, you'd not think of that?'
Continuing to play games, she said half humorously: 'Well, if he were a decent Russian ... like young Belov, for instance ...'
Gravely the shaman placed Cidaq on a stool and took a position facing her; then, as if he were summarizing his entire life, he began speaking: 'Young woman, have you not seen the Russian Christianity? Has it done anything for our people? Has it brought us the happiness they promised? Or the warm house? Or the food? Do they love us as their Book says they should? Do they respect us? Or allow us entrance to their places? Have they given us any new freedoms, or preserved the ones we built for ourselves?
Is there anything ... any one thing you can think of... any good thing their god has given us? And is there any good thing which we already had which they have not taken away?'
From her sack the mummy groaned at this accurate summation of Christian rule under the Russians, and fortified by this encouragement the shaman continued, his unkempt locks shaking whenever he made a persuasive point: 'Did we not in the old days on our islands know happiness with our spirits? Did they not keep food swimming past our islands, protect us in our kayaks, bring our babies safely to birth, bring back the sun each spring, ensure a harmony in our life, and enable us to maintain good villages where children played in the sun and old men died in peace?'
He became so agitated by this vision of the lost Aleutian paradise that his voice rose to a plaintive wail: 'Cidaq! Cidaq! You've survived great tribulation. The spirits have saved you for some noble mission. Do not at this time of crisis even think of embracing their ignoble ways. Cidaq, stay with your people. Help them to regain their dignity. Help them to pick their way honestly through these testing times. Help me to help our people.'
He was trembling when he finished, for his spirits, those forces which animated the winds and activated the sun, had vouchsafed him a glimpse of the future, and he saw the rapid and painful demise of his people if they abandoned the old ways. He saw the drunkenness increasing until men lay senseless; he saw strange illnesses slaying his dark Aleuts but never the white Russians; he saw vibrant young women like Cidaq debauched and discarded; but most of all, he saw the remorseless decline and eventual disappearance of all that had made life on Attu and Kiska and Lapak and Unalaska resplendent, saw it all dragged in the dust until even the spirits who had supervised that life would be gone.
A universe, an entire universe which had known its episodes of grandeur, as when two men alone on the vast sea, protected only by a sealskin kayak with sides that even a determined fish could puncture, went up against leviathan they two hundred and fifty pounds in all, he forty tons to fight him to the death. This universe and all it comprised was in danger of being extinguished, and he felt that he alone was responsible for its salvation. 'Cidaq,' he whispered, pleading and anguish almost stifling his voice, 'do not scorn the tested old ways which have protected you in favor of bad new ones which promise a good life and deliver only death.'
His words had a powerful effect on Cidaq, and she sat in a kind of trance as he produced from his bundles those revered symbols which had guided her life so far: the bones, the pieces of wood, the polished pebbles, the ivory harvested so painfully from the sea. Distributing them about her in the designs to which she was accustomed, he began chanting, using words and phrases which she did not understand but which were so potent that into the room came the spirits that governed life, and they spoke to her as in the days of her childhood: 'Cidaq, do not desert us! Cidaq, the others promise a good life but never produce it, not for our people. Cidaq, cling to the ways that enabled your great-grandmother to live so long and so bravely. Cidaq, do not transfer your allegiance to strange new gods that have only boasting and no power.
Cidaq! Cidaq!' Her name reverberated from all corners of the hut until she feared she might faint, but then from the mummy sack came comforting words: 'First things first, Cidaq. Smile at Rudenko. Give him reason to hope. Then send him back to exile with the seals. After that we must grapple with the things that perplex our shaman, for they perplex me, too.'
The round-faced girl with the sunburst smile shook her head vigorously from side to side as if to clear it for the tasks ahead, then promised her shaman: 'I'll not allow them to make me a Christian, not a real Christian, that is,' and she left the hut, smiling once more and trying to imagine how Rudenko was going to look at the last moment when she refused to marry him and he realized that she had tricked him into going back to the seals.
THE MUMMY HAD PREDICTED THAT THREE MEN WOULD arrive at Kodiak with disturbing or hopeful messages, and Rudenko had been the first, with news that was all bad; but now a second was approaching, with creative ideas, and he came not a moment too soon.
By 1790, Russian colonization of her American territories had stumbled to the lowest level achieved by any European nation in bringing its civilization to newly discovered lands. Spain, Portugal, France and England all performed better, and it would not be until Belgium behaved so atrociously along the Congo that any nation would come close to the malperformance of Russians in the Aleutians. They destroyed the reasonable systems by which the isl
anders had governed themselves. They depleted food supplies, so that people starved. They nearly exterminated the sea otter, so that a wealth which might have expanded forever almost vanished. And worst of all, they crushed old beliefs without substituting viable replacements. Drunken old priests like Father Petr at Three Saints converted less than ten Aleuts to Christianity in nineteen years, and even to these willing souls they brought no spiritual reassurance or worldly improvements. Conditions were so bad that an impartial observer would have been justified in concluding: 'Everything the Russians have touched, they've debased.' But now reform was coming, from Irkutsk.
During that winter of 1726 when Vitus Bering and his aide Trofim Zhdanko were snowbound on their way to Kam chatka, they made a voluntary detour to the regional capital at Irkutsk, not far from the Mongolian border, and there they consulted with the voivode, Grigory Voronov, whose able and forceful daughter Marina impressed them so favorably. This Marina married the Siberian fur trader Ivan Poznikov and later, after he was slain by brigands on the way to Yakutsk, the cossack Zhdanko.
She had said, during her introduction to Zhdanko: 'All good things in Siberia come from Irkutsk,' and this was still true.
During the intervening years the town had blossomed, becoming not only the administrative and commercial focus of eastern Russia but also the center from which radiated those imaginative ideas which enrich society, and no agency was more energetic than the Orthodox Church, whose local bishop was determined to inject religious vigor into Kodiak, the most eastern and backward of his administrative areas.
When Bering and Zhdanko met Marina Voronova they were not aware that she had a younger brother named Ignaci, who had remained behind in Moscow when his father moved east to assume his governorship. This Ignaci had a son Luka, who in 1766 had a son Vasili, who, from his earliest days, showed an inclination toward holy orders. As quickly as possible after finishing his preliminary studies, this Vasili sought entrance to the seminary in Irkutsk and in 1790, at the age of twenty-four, he qualified himself for ordination. But now a vigorous debate occupied the Voronov family and Great-Aunt Marina Zhdanko from Petropavlovsk, eighty-one years old, had come all the way to Irkutsk to make her strong opinions known, which she did to the irritation of many.