THE RUSSIAN OILFIELDS

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LIV, Issue 61, 2 September 1911, Page 8

THE RUSSIAN OILFIELDS

A RECENT VISIT. By 11. Hamilton Fyfe. (Special correspondent of the Daily Mail recently in Russia). Some eight hours after the Scurry Train, which means the Express, lias left Rostov, it comes to a station called Mineral Waters, and the snow-peaks of the Caucasus can be seen glittering in the sun. We arc leaving Europe he-hind us. The dogs begin to he of that attractive breed which flourishes all through Asia. The Tartar tvpe supersedes the flat-nosed Russian. High •heepskin hats are the fashion, giving the men an alarmingly shaggy appearance. Troops of veiled women in black, sitting sideways on donkeys, would suggest Islam, even if you did not see camels and the sharp, tall towers of mosques piercing the blue sky. A rich, fertile country the Caucasus. A great land for grain, as the big new freight stations bear witness. A great land for stock. Many of these hillsides are black with sheep, like insects; many of these green valleys full of horses and calves. There aw vineyards and orchards on the southern slopes. There are copper and lead and silver and manganese in large deposits. Above all, there is oil.

On the line we pass train after train of oil-tanks. Take a look at the locomotive and you will see that it is fed with oil fuel. Here is Grosny, the newest of the oil-towns. The bright electric light shows up long lines of reservoirs by the side of the metals. It is a dirty little town, but it prospers exceedingly. In the hotel is an engineer from London who represents a syndicate holding an option on an oil claim. They have exercised their option, but the owners refuse to deliver. Another offer lias been made at a higher price, and those who have made it are ready to pay the heavy line incurred by the owners for non-delivery to the syndicate. That is typical of the Grosny situation. The struggle for claims is fierce. Undoubtedly there is much oil round about here. One day an Englishman struck a fountain which threw up thirty thousand barrels a day. It ruined him. He could not control it. The oil ran away on to the fields, and the peasants flocked in, demanding compensation. It was a harsh trick for Fortune to play. ENGLISH ENTERPRISE.

Over there to the left, nearer the Black Sea. is Maikop, a large district with thirty or forty companies, nearly all English, working it with en Tgetic enterprise. Many varying opinions does one hear as to their prospects. A nnm her of people told me bluntly, "Maiko], is no good." Others said, ''it will be as profitable as Baku." A secret ma]) 1 saw made me think the truth lies somewhere between these views. The map showed a belt of oil-bearing soil running through the district. The rest is probably valueless. Even Baku is rather sorry for itself just now. Partly owing to difficulties with water in the oil wells, partly to the perennial rotation of prosperity, over-production, depression. Trade has been slack and prices poor. But there are signs of recovery; and, so far as ran be judged, there is no need yet to fear that 'the" oil is giving out. So Baku will soon get through its period of arrested development. It is a go-ahead place. Its new waterworks are to cost something like two and a half millions sterling. The contract has fortunately been secured by an English firm.

At first sight the oil fields look like forests of giant trees which have been swept by tire. Black and gaunt stand the derricks over the wells not far off 100 feet high. They neighbor one another closely, amid a litter of pipes, old iron, every kind of rubbish. Pools of oil water, slimy, viscous, horrible, make traps for unwary feet on every side. At close quarters the derricks have the appearance of huge ruined hop-oasts such as one sees in Kent, Come inside and watch the process of production. Several men stand about. One is working an engine. A wire rope is spinning down into the well so fast that you can hardly see it move. Now the engine, is reversed. The rope spins upward sudii'iilv. and with startling abruptness an iir.eiisc tub of iron, sixty feet Ion", ■-.hoots up out of the well." There is "a splash and a splutter; showers of oil eome pattering down in heavy drops. I'he 275 gallons which the baler holds are drawn off, and down it goes again It is fascinating to watch. Every time it appears you get a thrill of the unexpected. Day and night it works. There are three shifts of these Tartar workmi'ii in sheepskin coats, one always hard at it.

DIUWIXfi UP THE OIL. | There, is another method of drawin" j up the oil; a more wonderful way. Here under a rough shed is a small pipe running into the ground. Out of the ground comes another pipe from which a perpetual How of oil drops into a cauldron just outside. How is it done? Bv comPressed air, which drives the oil up. there is no noise, no seen agency The 3 compressed air is transmitted 'from a i station half a mile away. That is all > the labor required. The air plant, by - the way, is worth a visit. The motive - power is supplied entirely bv the gas ' Iron, the wells, which is sucked out bv i an ingenious contrivance and made t'o i drive motors. Gas is also partly used ' as tucl lor the boilers connected with s, the electric-power plant. Nothing is i wasted here. ■I Drive out of Baku, and vou come to i lilack Town, where the oil refineries a tc. It is a hideous place. The only ' redeeming feature I found in the whole district was a very pleasantly shaded garden, full of wallflowers and cherry blossom, which the Nobel Company have made, evidently as a conscience gift to ■ atone in some degree for the appalling ugliness they have spread around elsewhere. 1 could have lingered long in it. Black Town had no attractions. I "•as glad to get back to much-abused i-akii. where the evening promenade was at is height in the sea-side gardens which the town reclaimed from salt water, thus transforming an unsightly marsh into a capital "parade." Here the more Lnropean elements prevail, the elements which have built line banks and unices and attracted some very fair shops. Tt is in the walled Tartar town up the lull that the Asiatic side of Baku becomes prominent. Veiled women in ■arem skirts shuffle about in loose Oriental slippers. Soft-footed, longnosed tartars, with cut-throat, cruel eyes, pass noiselessly through the narrow Eastern streets. EASTERN BAZAARS, ■the bazaars, too, are entirely Eastern, wedged into a picturesque, dirty street which is closed at one end by a Moorish archway in the Tartar citv will, and watched over, incongruously enough, by the great new Russian cathedral, standing higher up the hill. There is notluV m them for the stranger to buy; but the porters in their attractive ra<*s carrying rush baskets full of garden stuff, are a. bright-eyed, talkative crew and fall naturally into effective groups, lying or squatting at. corners in the sun! l'hey are an amusing contrast to the pursy shopkeepers in their long robes and tall astrakhan hats. If you have luck you may see a magnificent Persian stalking proudly along in turban, striped silk coat and high -boots. Here is a blind 1

beggar, too, with his sing-song cry calling upon the faithful for alms in Allah's name. All that is the old Baku of days before oil shares were gambled in on the London Stock Exchange. The Tartars knew there was oil here. Had not tliu fire in the l'arsce temple at Sourakhang been alight since before Christ was born? And did not shepherds drive the Hocks in winter round flaming pools in the mountains, which sometimes kept alight for several years? But it was only the other day that Russia awakened to the financial possibilities of letting the oil fields be exploited. Since then they have been among her richest possessions.