Alaska (51 page)

But in this loneliness he found increasing pleasure in watching the marital progress of the Voronovs, and the more he observed the gentle, loving manner in which these two people discovered fulfillment in each other, the more he saw in them the emotional satisfaction denied him in his own marriage. Vasili Voronov was proving to be an almost ideal clergyman for a place like New Archangel. Courageous in battling frontier situations, loyal in supporting the lay gover-313

nor, and dedicated to the law of Jesus Christ on earth, he moved about his enormous parish like the first disciples, and wherever he touched or paused to give comfort, he produced an almost tangible Christianity. If the early fur traders brought disgrace to the concept of Russian imperialism, Father Vasili erased that stain by bringing love and understanding.

In this work he was supported by his Aleut wife, who continued to organize and tend nurseries and orphanages and who formed a glowing bridge between her pagan fellow Aleuts and her husband's Russian Christianity. She was, Baranov thought, an ideal pastor's wife, and in his support of her efforts he became a kind of father to her, so he was not disposed to allow Princess Ermelova to denigrate her.

'I beg your pardon, Princess,' he said, after listening to the latest diatribe, 'but I have found Madame Voronova, whom you call a savage, to be a true Christian; indeed, a jewel in our North American crown.'

The princess, not accustomed to rebuttal from anyone, looked down her patrician nose at this ridiculous baldheaded man Baranov wore his wig only on ceremonial occasions and said haughtily, as if dismissing some peasant: 'Monsieur Baranov, here in New Archangel, I see hundreds of Aleuts and they are all savages, the priest's wife among them.'

Fully aware of the dangerous course he was pursuing, Baranov thrust his fat little chin out and said: 'I see in those same Aleuts the future of Russian America, and none is more promising than the priest's wife.'

Startled by this rude refutation, the princess snapped: 'Mark my words, you'll see that one slide back into the gutter. If she poses as a Christian, it's only to deceive men like you who are so easily fooled,' and when she next saw her husband, she stormed: 'Baranov spoke harshly when I reprimanded him for defending that pathetic Aleut woman attached to the priest. I want you to inform St. Petersburg that this Voronov is making a spectacle of himself with that little savage.'

Vladimir Ermelov had, in the wisdom that married men acquire so painfully, learned never to oppose his strong willed wife, especially since she maintained close contacts with the tsar's family. But this time he did quietly ignore her fulminations against Sofia Voronova because in his dispatches home he simply had to report glowingly on the conduct of her husband, and it was these first assessments which were to pave the way for the extraordinary events which emerged later in the life of Father Vasili: 314

The worse Baranov appears, and I have reported only his most glaring defects and malperformances, the better does his priest Vasili Voronov stand out as an exceptional churchman. In the perfection of his approach and accomplishment he is almost saintly and I commend him to Your Excellency's attention, not only because of his religious perfection but also because he represents Russia so ably. He has only one drawback that I have been able to detect: he is married to an Aleut lady of markedly dark complexion, but if he were to be promoted to a superior post, I suppose he could be released from her.

Now, when the princess railed against both Baranov and Sofia Voronova, Lieutenant Ermelov loudly agreed with her regarding the man but remained silent when Sofia was the target, and in this persistent way he continued to undermine Baranov's leadership of the colony, for as he told his wife and anyone else who wished to listen: 'Just as you cannot operate a naval ship with peasants, so you can't run a colony with merchants. In this world gentlemen are at a premium.'

As the Muscovy

was preparing to quit New Archangel for the return trip to Russia, documents arrived confirming Ermelov's basic attitudes, for one set of papers brought severe rebukes to Baranov for his supposed laxity in minding The Company's funds and his tardiness in bringing order to his vast domain stretching from Attu Island in the west to Canada in the east, while another set informed Lieutenant Vladimir Ermelov that the tsar had authorized his promotion to lieutenant captain.

Baranov, mortified by the harshness of the criticism, sought counsel with Father Vasili, to whom he poured out the misery of his position: 'I had hoped that the next ship would bring me the funds to do the work required and perhaps a notice that I had at last been recognized with a title of some kind nothing big, you know, just this or that of the third class, but with a ribbon testifying to the fact that I was now a member of the lesser nobility . . .'

Here he broke down, a sorely disappointed man in his sixties, and for some moments he fought against tears. 'There, there, Aleksandr Andreevich,' the priest whispered, 'God sees the worthy work you do. He sees your charity to children, the love with which you bring Aleuts into the bosom of His church.'

Baranov sniffed, wiped his eyes, and asked: 'Then why can't the government see it?'

and Voronov gave the answer which had resounded through the centuries: 'Preferment is

315

not dispensed in rational portions,' and after a thoughtful digestion of this truth, Baranov laughed, wiped his nose, and said: 'True, Vasili. You're six times a better Christian than the Bishop of Irkutsk, but who recognizes it?'

Then, self-pity laid aside, he took the priest's hands and said with great solemnity: 'Vasili, I'm an old man and very tired. This endless work eats at a man's soul. Twenty years ago I begged St. Petersburg to send a replacement, but none has come. That ship down there, it brings condemnation of my work but no money to help me do better and no younger man to take my place.' Now, dealing with real disappointments and not with transitory wounds to his vanity, he could no longer control himself, and tears of the most burning kind welled from his eyes. At the end of a long, distorted life he was a failure and a worn-out one to boot, so he sat before his priest, shoulders shaking, head bowed: 'Vasili, pray for me. I am lost at the end of the world. I know not what to do.'

But an even greater humiliation awaited. When Ermelov received notice of his own promotion, his wife initiated a gala celebration which would include all the ships in the bay, the multiple rooms atop the rock, and even the Aleut workmen inside the walls and the Tlingits outside; and the princess arranged it so that naval funds would pay for the ship festivities, while the celebrations ashore would be charged against Baranov's depleted treasury. When the chief administrator learned of this duplicity he was outraged: 'I

have

no treasury. I

have

no money.' But as the entertainments began and Baranov witnessed the jollity of the sailors and the Indians, he found himself caught up in the celebration, and at ks height, when Lieutenant Captain Ermelov, straight and severe as an ash-tree harpoon, stepped forward to receive from Father Vasili the oath of allegiance, Baranov cheered with unfeigned generosity, even though both he and the priest knew that he was many times more effective as a commercial-political manager than Ermelov was as a naval geopolitician.

A LESSER MAN THAN BARANOV MIGHT HAVE BEEN Immo bilized by the incredible position in which he now found himself: not only to be accused of stealing Company funds when The Company refused to send him any funds, but to be accused of diverting this Company money to his personal use at the very time when he was spending his own funds on work The Company should be doing, like caring for widows and orphans! It was insane, but he refused to let it disorient him, taking refuge in a comforting saying and an even more comforting visit south.

The saying explained and forgave 316

everything: 'That's Russia!' and the excursion soothed away mortal wounds.

Seventeen miles south of New Archangel, lost in a wilderness of islands and surrounded by mountains that rose from the sea, lay one of nature's miracles: a spring, rank with the smell of sulfur, which bubbled forth in a copious steaming flow that could be mixed with a trickle of icy water from a nearby stream, making it bearable to soak in. For a thousand years or longer the Tlingits had treasured this spring, hollowing out spruce trunks to serve as pipes to feed water from the spring and nearby stream into a stone-lined hole dug in the earth. Ingeniously, the Tlingits had fixed the cold-water pipe with a swivel so that it could be swung aside when the hot water was properly tempered.

It was a congenial place, hidden among trees, protected by mountains, but so situated that one could luxuriate in the tub and gaze out upon the Pacific Ocean. One of the constant regrets voiced by Kot-le-an and Ravenheart in their distant exile was: 'I wish we could go back to the hot bath,' and one of the first things the Russians did when they captured the hill was to sail south and build at the sulfur spring a proper housed-in bath with two real pipes to bring in the two kinds of water. In time they had a spa equal to any in the homeland, and as soon as Baranov had the area pacified he began his visits to the baths. Was Ermelov behaving outrageously?

Off Baranov scuttled to the hot baths. Was his replacement seven years overdue? Down he went to the sulfur treatment, and as he lay back in the tub, working the two pipes with his toes, and the hot water steamed him to a rose-petal pink, he forgot the irritations which others wreaked upon him, and in his repose he visualized the great things yet to be done.

So on the happy day when the Muscovy finally sailed from New Archangel to carry Lieutenant Captain Ermelov back to Russia, Baranov stood on the shore, waving farewell with the obedient enthusiasm of an underling, but as soon as the ship was out of sight he called for an assistant: 'Let's go to the baths. I want to cleanse myself of that odious man,' and deep within the therapeutic waters he formulated those remarkable steps which would make his tenure in the east so productive and so remarkable to later historians.

When he sailed back to New Archangel after his visit to the baths, his shiny round head was bursting with new ideas, and he was pleased to see that yet another foreign ship had anchored during his absence. As he drew close enough for the letters on the bow to become readable he smiled Evening Star BOSTON and he supposed that Captain Corey was 317

bringing in his hold much-wanted cargo, like food and nails, and just as much that was not, like rum and guns.

Relieved to see an easygoing American ship replace the stiff and disagreeable Muscovy, Baranov greeted Captain Corey and First Mate Kane warmly, inviting them to his home on the hill and learning from them the details of Napoleon's latest triumphs in Europe.

With the generosity which marked all his dealing and which accounted for discrepancies in his accounts, if there were such, he told the Americans and Father Vasili as they dined together: 'Now I understand! Russia's been so frightened of Napoleon, the tsar hasn't had the time to bother about us out here. Or send us the money he promised.'

But as this first evening wore on, difficult questions existing between America and Russia began to surface, and Baranov said with considerable frankness: 'Captain Corey, this town is most delighted to see you back in these waters, but we trust you'll not be trading rum and guns to the Tlingits.'

Corey answered with a shrug, as if to say: 'Governor, we Americans trade as we can,'

and Baranov, interpreting the shrug correctly, warned in an amicable way: 'Captain, I have orders to halt your trade in rum and guns. Such trade destroys our natives, makes them useless for any worthy purpose.'

Very firmly Corey replied: 'But our nation insists upon its right to trade anywhere on the high seas and with any goods we wish.'

'But this is not the high seas, Captain. This is Russian territory, just the way Okhotsk would be, or Petropavlovsk.'

'I think not,' Corey said without raising his voice. 'Where we sit tonight, yes.

Sitka Sound is Russian.' Like most foreigners, he spoke only of Sitka Sound, never of New Archangel, and this added to Baranov's irritation. 'But the waters hereabout, they're open sea and I shall treat them as such.'

Very evenly Baranov replied: 'And my orders are to prevent you from doing so.'

Miles Corey was a small, grimly determined man who had spent his life contesting the seas and their harbors, and Russian threats did not alarm him any more than had the threats of Tahitians or Fijians: 'We honor without question your preeminence here in Sitka, but you have none in what we deem international waters.'

'So you intend to peddle your rum and guns to our natives?' Baranov asked, and Corey said with firm politeness: 'We do.'

It was curious, and a fact long to be debated by historians and moralists, that in these years the two Anglo-Saxon na-318

tions which presumed to follow the higher dictates of religion and public behavior, England and America, should feel themselves entitled by some moral justification which others could not discern to trade as they wished with what they called 'the backward nations of the world.' In defense of this inalienable right, England felt herself justified in forcing opium upon the Chinese; while America insisted upon the right to trade rum and guns with natives everywhere, even, it must be admitted, to her own warlike Indians in the West.

So when Aleksandr Baranov, this doughty little merchant, proposed to halt such trade in his territory, men like Captain Corey and First Mate Kane stated firmly that the rights of free men entitled them to trade with natives under Russian rule as they wished and without fear of retaliation from Russian arms. 'It's simple, Governor Baranov,' Corey explained. 'We sail north, well away from Sitka, and trade our goods for pelts, and no one's the worse off.'

'Except the natives, who remain drunk all the time, and we Russians, who have to spend vast sums to protect ourselves from those who now have guns,' and he pointed to the palisade which had to be maintained at such heavy cost.