Fur rugs covered the floor, the walls, the benches, the berth beds
lining the sides of the barnlike Russian barracks. The windows were of
oiled bladder skin; the lamps, whale-oil in stone basins with skin for
wick. Arms were stacked in the corner. The two Russians had been
sitting down to a supper of boiled salmon, when Ledyard made his
unannounced {251} entrance. By signs he explained that Captain Cook's
ships were at a near harbor and that the English commander desired to
confer with Ismyloff, chief factor of the Russians. Rising, kissing
their hands ceremoniously as they mentioned the august name and taking
off their fur caps, the Russians made solemn answer that all these
parts, with a circumambient wave, belonged to the Empress of Russia;
that they were her subjects--with more kissing of the hands. Russia
did not want foreigners spying on her hunting-grounds. Nevertheless,
Ledyard was given a present of fresh Chinese silk underwear, treated to
the hottest Russian brandy in the barracks, and put comfortably to bed
on a couch of otter skins. From his bed, he saw the Indians crowd in
for evening services before a little Russian crucifix, the two traders
leading prayers.
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