Yakov and the apprentice Filip Kotelnikov were not among those rescued by the Lydia. The people with whom Yakov was living after Anna’s death traded him to Captain George Washington Eayres, commander of the American vessel Mercury. It is not known what happened to him after that time, but it is likely that he did not return to the Russian-American Company but instead worked for the Americans. Filip Kotelnikov was sold to “a distant people.” Despite his revulsion for the Hoh people when he was first captured, there is evidence to suggest he married an Indigenous woman and had children and may have lived at the Russian Fort Ross in California for many years. There are Kotelnikovs living still in California; the surname can also be found in the Seattle area.
Maria, to whom I assigned the fictional job of cook, was among those rescued. She also has an extraordinary postscript to the story. The oral tradition of this incident, recounted by Ben Hobucket of the Quileutes in the early 1900s and finally published in 1934, states that Maria lived with the Hobucket family until the rescue Makee arranged. But several years later, a Russian ship returned to the mouth of the river looking to capture Quileutes as slaves. The curious Quileutes who paddled out to the ship without this knowledge were startled to see Maria on deck. She shouted in the Quileute language to the people in the canoes, telling them of the ship’s intent. “Go away from this place!” she called. “If you come aboard, you will be carried away as slaves. You will never see your people again.” According to the Hobucket account, the people heeded her advice and returned to shore.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
I came across this story more than ten years ago at the Fisgard Lighthouse National Historic Site in Victoria, BC. There was a display about Pacific west coast shipwrecks, and in that display, a single line about the Sviatoi Nikolai. That single line said that a Russian woman had been onboard, and that as a result of the wreck, she was probably, in 1808, the first European woman to set foot on the Olympic Peninsula.
Because of where I live, because of my Russian ancestry (my mother is Russian), I was instantly curious.
The story is not well known. It took me a couple of years just to find Anna’s name. When I discovered that she hadn’t wanted to be rescued, I became hooked.
But, very quickly, I realized that telling Anna’s story would mean writing characters who were Indigenous and representing them in my narrative. As a non-Indigenous writer, this felt especially daunting given the history of non-Indigenous writers misrepresenting Indigenous people and the terrible legacy that has left behind.
So, I first stepped back from the story and tried to inform myself about this legacy. In studying cultural appropriation, I thankfully ran into the work of Dr. Jeannette Armstrong (Syilx-Okanagan). Her 1990 essay, “The Disempowerment of First North American Native Peoples and Empowerment Through Their Writing”{3} became a foundational document for me. In it, Dr. Armstrong asks non-Indigenous writers to imagine creating new works that are courageous and honest about colonialism and imperialism. This, she writes, would require tackling and explaining the roots of the racism that’s inherent in many of the structures and practices that still exist today. She challenges non-Indigenous writers to interpret the prevailing thinking that sustains domination—instead of trying to interpret Indigenous stories. She likens this to a process of turning over and examining the rocks in one’s own garden while leaving your neighbour’s garden alone.
As I worked, I imagined Anna and those rocks. I gave names to her rocks. Colonialism. Imperialism. Individualism. Unfettered pursuit of wealth. Spiritual void. Disconnection from the land. The Enlightenment. Serfdom. The Napoleonic Wars. Globalization. I let Anna kick at the rocks and, when she was ready, turn them over—or at least peek underneath.
Anna’s rocks had an immediate effect on the Makahs, Quileutes, and Hoh River people who took her and the other Russians into their homes for a year and a half. That effect ripples out and reaches across the decades, touching us even today. History still characterizes the Russians’ experience using the terms “captivity” and “enslavement.” However, even a cursory glance suggests this choice of words is flawed, and that using them only serves to keep the rocks firmly in place.
In seeking a respectful way of writing Indigenous characters, I approached the Makahs, Quileutes, and Hoh River people first through their tribal councils. Through various means, and not always through the councils, I received help that allowed me to glimpse history, language, and culture through an Indigenous lens. I hope this view is reflected in the narrative. But I know this information does not qualify me to speak on behalf of any Indigenous people. This is a work of fiction, and I have endeavoured to represent the Indigenous characters with as much integrity as I am able, and always from Anna’s point of view with all of her assumptions and cultural baggage.
The path I took was far from straightforward, and my experience is not a road map. I certainly learned more about the Sviatoi Nikolai incident. But I also learned:
• Indigenous people are constantly asked for review, input, and opinion on agendas that are set by outsiders (like me).
• No one person should be put in a position in which she has to speak for an entire community.
• Asking for permission in a colonial context puts a burden on the Indigenous person you’re asking.
• I had to consider that the people I was asking might have more pressing things to do with their limited time.
• Some questions might be painful to answer.
• Some questions where the answers are not known might be equally painful.
I let these lessons inform my approach and tried to remember to go gently. White settlers must no longer allow Indigenous peoples and communities to carry the burden of fighting against harmful colonial practices alone. The path we must share is necessary, urgent, and inevitable, but how we’re going to walk it has yet to be determined. Writing this book has helped me on my own path to decolonization, and for that I am grateful.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I’m deeply indebted to Kenneth N. Owens and Alton S. Donnelly for their book, The Wreck of the Sv. Nikolai, which contains the original accounts of Russian fur trader Timofei Osipovich Tarakanov and Quileute elder Ben Hobucket.
I’m also indebted to the Olympic Peninsula Intertribal Cultural Advisory Committee and Jacilee Wray, editor of Native Peoples of the Olympic Peninsula; Charlotte Cote, author of Spirits of Our Whaling Ancestors; Joshua Reid, author of The Sea is My Country: The Maritime World of the Makahs; Hilary Stewart, who annotated and illustrated an edition of The Adventures and Sufferings of John R. Jewitt: Captive of Maquinna; Erna Gunther, author of Ethnobotany of Western Washington: The Knowledge and Use of Indigenous Plants by Native Americans; Ruth Kirk, author of Ozette: Excavating a Makah Whaling Village; and Linda Ivanits, author of Russian Folk Belief.
The Makah Cultural and Research Center in Neah Bay, otherwise known as the Makah Museum, contains many valuable treasures that show some of what life was like for the Makahs before contact with the Europeans. I enjoyed every minute I spent there and encourage others to visit this gorgeous and eye-opening facility. Thanks to Janine Ledford, the centre’s executive director, and to the Makah Language Program team for patiently and thoroughly assisting with both language and culture.