# Royal Naval Biography/Cochrane, John Dundas

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JOHN DUNDAS COCHRANE, Esq. [Commander.]
Son of the Hon. Cochrane Johnstone, by Lady Georgiana, a daughter of James, third Earl of Hopetoun.
This officer was at the battle of St. Domingo, in Feb. 1806; and afterwards served as midshipman on board the Ethalion frigate, commanded by his first cousin, Captain (now Sir Thomas J.) Cochrane: he obtained a lieutenant’s commission, in Feb. 1811; and was promoted to the rank of commander, on the 15th Aug. 1814. After the conclusion of a general peace, we find him perambulating a great part of France, and every province of Spain and Portugal. In the beginning of 1820, finding that he was not likely to be employed afloat, and evidently possessing no little share of that spirit of eccentricity and enterprise so strongly developed in his family, he volunteered to undertake a journey into the interior of Africa, to explore the source of the Niger. In order to accomplish this object, he not only prepared to assume the character of a mahomedan, but had even resolved to sell himself as a slave to one of the owners of caravans, travelling in that country, the grave of European endeavour.
The Board of Admiralty being unfavourable to this plan, Commander Cochrane next turned his attention to Russia, Siberian Tartary, the Frozen Sea, Kamschatka, &c., and soon determined upon travelling round the globe, as nearly as can be done by land; crossing from Northern Asia to America, at Behring’s Straits: he also resolved to perform the journey on foot, his finances allowing of no other mode.
Having obtained two years’ leave of absence, he filled his knapsack with such articles as he considered requisite to enable him to wander through the wilds, deserts, and forests of three quarters of the globe; then quitted London, and proceeded with all possible speed to St. Petersburg; where, through the recommendation of his friend, Sir Robert Kerr Porter, his proposed exploit obtained higher countenance than could have been anticipated. Not only was he furnished with the customary passport, but also with a secret letter to the governor-general of Siberia, and open instructions to the civil governors and police, “of all the towns and ​provinces lying in his track, from St. Petersburg to Kamschatka, to aid him, as far as possible, to proceed on his journey without interruption; to afford him lawful defence and protection; and in case of necessity, to render him pecuniary assistance.”
On the 24th May, 1820, Commander Cochrane fairly commenced his stupendous undertaking; but he had not proceeded very far from St. Petersburg on his way to Muscovy, before he suffered a greater misfortune than afterwards befel him in routes of 10,000 miles among reputed savages. He thus relates it in his published narrative:
“My route was towards Liubane, at about the ninth mile-stone from which I sat down to smoke a segar or pipe, as fancy might dictate, when I was suddenly seized from behind, by two ruffians, whose visages were as much concealed us the oddness of their dress would permit. One of them, who held an iron bar in his hand, dragged me by the collar towards the forest, while the other, with a bayoneted musket, pushed me on, in such a manner as to make me move with more than ordinary celerity; while a boy, auxiliary to these vagabonds, was stationed on the road-side, to keep a look out.
“We had got some sixty or eighty paces into the thickest part of the forest, when I was desired to undress; and having stript off my trowsers and jacket, then my shirt, and, finally, my shoes and stockings, they proceeded to tie me to a tree. From this ceremony and from the manner of it, I fully concluded that they intended to try the effect of a musket upon me, by firing at me as they would at a mark. I was, however, reserved for fresh scenes: the villains with much sang froid seated themselves at my feet, and rifled my knapsack and pockets, even cutting out the linings of the clothes in search of bank-bills, or some other valuable articles. They then compelled me to take at least a pound of black bread, and a glass of rum poured from a small flask, which had been suspended from my neck. Having appropriated my trowsers, shirt, stockings, and shoes; as also my spectacles, watch, compass, thermometer, and small pocket sextant, with one hundred and sixty roubles, they at length released me from the tree, and at the point of a stiletto, made me swear that I would not inform against them, – such, at least, I conjectured to be their meaning, though of their language I understood not a word.
“Having received my promise, I was again treated to bread and rum, and once more fastened to the tree, in which condition they finally abandoned me. Not long after, a boy who was passing heard my cries, and set me at liberty. I did not doubt he was sent by my late companions upon so considerate an errand, and felt so far grateful: though it might require something more than common charity to forgive their depriving me of my shirt and trowsers, and leaving me almost as naked as I came into the world.
​“To pursue my route, or return to Tzarsko Selo would, indeed, be alike indecent and ridiculous; but, being so, and there being no remedy, I made therefore ‘forward’ the order of the day; having first, with the remnant of my apparel, rigged myself à l’Ecossaise, I resumed my route. I had still left me a blue jacket, a flannel waistcoat, and a spare one, which I tied round my waist in such a manner, that it reached down to the knees: my empty knapsack was restored to its old place, and trotted on with even a merry heart.”
Notwithstanding this untoward accident, Commander Cochrane’s ardour was by no means abated; for he still pursued his perilous journey; passed in safety the mighty barriers, called the Ural Chain, which divide Europe from Asia; and then proceeded onward to Malaya-Narymka, the last spot on the frontier of Russian Siberia. Here he forded a little stream which forms the actual line of demarcation on the Chinese and Russian dominions; and according to his narrative, seating himself on a stone on the left bank, “was soon lost in a reverie.” “It was about midnight,” says he, “the moon apparently full, was near her meridian, and seemed to encourage a pensive inclination. What can surpass that scene I know not. Some of the loftiest granite mountains spreading in various directions, enclosing some of the most luxurious valleys in the world; yet all deserted! – all this fair and fertile tract abandoned to wild beasts, merely to constitute a neutral territory!”
At Barnaouli, Commander Cochrane met with an enlightened statesman of the name of Speranski, lately sent from Russia with a view to correct abuses of administration in the distant provinces of Siberia. “Of his personal attentions to me,” says our traveller, “I shall ever feel proud and grateful. He had at first taken me for a Raskolnick, from my long beard, and longer golden locks; notwithstanding I wore at the same time a long swaddling grey nankeen coat, and a silken sash round my waist; but indeed so great a buck had I become of late, that I hardly knew myself.”
General Speranski, with the same discrimination which qualified him to correct public abuses, fixed on Commander Cochrane, as a suitable person, to join in the expedition of discovery, then fitting out on the Kolyma river, to determine ​the position and extent of Shelatskoi Noss, commonly called the N.E. Cape. Accordingly, he furnished him with a commission for this purpose, with instructions to proceed to Nishney Kolymsk, where the expedition was preparing under Baron Wrangél. Barnaouli, it should be observed, is in lat. 53° N., long. 84° E., and Nishney Kolymsk in lat. 68° N., long. 164° E.; consequently, in this commission, General Speranski appears to have afforded complete indulgence to the travelling propensities of his new English acquaintance from whose narrative we make the following extract:
“We reached fifty-five miles with the same dogs, and put up for the night at a Yukagir hut. Resumed next morning with increased cold, though calm weather, and reached Nishney Kolymsk at noon, amid 42° of frost,according to many spirit thermometers of Baron WrangéIs, on the 31st Dec. 1820, after a most tedious, laborious, and to me perilous journey of sixty-one days, twenty of which were passed in the snow, without even the comfort of a blanket; nor had I even a second coat, or parka, nor even a second pair of boots, and less clothing than even the guides and attendants of the poorest class. I could not therefore but feel grateful for my safe arrival at such a season of the year, in such intense cold, and with only the upper part of my nose at all injured. I met, at Nishney Kolymsk, the baron and a midshipman. It waa the last day of the old year; and in the present enjoyment of a moderate meal, a hearty welcome, and excellent friends, I soon forgot the past, and felt little concern for the future. Quarters were appropriated to me in the baron’s own house; and with him, on the shores of the Frozen Sea, I enjoyed health and every comfort I could desire.”
Commander Cochrane next proceeded to the country of the Tchuktchi, a people inhabiting the tract which forms the north-eastern corner of Asia; his account of whom is one of the most interesting portions of his narrative. From thence he returned to Kolymsk, and ultimately pursued his journey, by Omekon, and across the sea of Okotsk, to St. Peter and St. Paul, in Kamschatka, where it was his happy fortune to centre his hitherto rambling affections in an amiable native lady, to whom he was united on the 8th Jan. 1822. After making a tour of pleasure through the Kamschatdale peninsula, he became fully aware of the impracticability of following up his original plan. In July, 1822, he sailed for Okotsk; and from that post, actually travelled with his bride across Siberia to St. Petersburg. On repassing the Ural ​mountains, he makes the following observations, as a summary of his experience:
“At break of day I was on the highest peak of the Ural mountain pass, and could not help stopping to take a last view of Asia, the forced residence of many dear and valued friends, as also the abode of others whom I much esteem. Though it is, generally speaking, the land of the exile, it is rather the land of the unfortunate than of the criminal. It is the want of education, which, begetting a looseness of morals, plunges these unfortunates into error. The thinness of population in Siberia, is a ready reason to account for the facility with which a person is exiled. Of real criminals there are not so many as is imagined, as by the report of Nertchinsk it appears, that but two thousand live hundred criminals are employed in the mines. It is not every man who is sent to Botany Bay that ought to be termed a criminal; nor is every one who is exiled to Siberia. It may be safely said that all the most hardened criminals who are banished for life, are at Nertchinsk and Okotsk; at least there are very few exceptions, and I believe their whole number does not exceed three thousand, while the number of exiles sent for a limited period, annually amount to at least one half that number. As to the education and moral habits of the natives of Siberia, they are certainly equal, if not superior in these respects, to that of the European Russians. They have not the same incitement, nor the same means of committing crimes. The whole population does not exceed two millions and a half, about one half of which are aborigines, scattered over a tract of country which gives to each person three square miles. Provisions and clothing are cheap, taxes are not known, the climate is healthy – and what can man more desire? I looked again to the East, and bade adieu, thankful for the many marks of esteem and kindness I had received from the hands of its hospitable people.
“Descending the western branch of the Ural Mountains, I soon found myself again in Europe: the land of malt, the fire-side home, again had charms for the traveller. The sensations I experienced upon quitting the most favoured quarter of the globe, were nothing when compared to the present. Then I thought I was going only to the abode of misery, vice, and cruelty, while now I knew I had come from that of humanity, hospitality, and kindness. I looked back to the hills, which are, as it were, the barrier between virtue and vice, but felt, in spite of it, a desire to return and end my days there. And so strong is still that desire, that I should not hesitate to bid adieu to politics, war, and other refined pursuits, to enjoy, in Siberia, those comforts which may be had without fear of foreign or domestic disturbance.
“In the evening of my entry into Europe, I reached the village of Bissertskaya Krepost, situate on the Bissert stream. The road was bad, and over a hilly country, nor was my dissatisfaction at all allayed by the conduct of the Permians. Inhospitality, incivility, and general distrust every where prevailed, and influenced the conduct of the inhabitants; even the last copeck is insisted upon in payment for the horses, before they are permitted to commence the journey; a circumstance which, in many cases, ​occasions much inconvenience and loss of time. In Siberia, the traveller may pay forward or backward three or four stations, and every sort of accommodation is given.”
After passing some time in England, this persevering and astonishing pedestrian sailed for South America, where he embarked largely in mining speculations, and died on the 12th of August, 1825.