| CREATION OF THE UNIVERSE ACCORDING GENESIS | 
| 
 CHAPTER V.DEATH OF BERING.1741-1742.
         We will now return to the
        commander. Possibly we might imagine Chirikof easily reconciled to a separation
        from his superior, who, instead of striking out intelligently for the
        achievement of a purpose, allowed himself to be carried hither and thither by
        omnipotent winds and imperial instructions. But not so Bering. With the loss of
        Chirikof and the Sv Pavel his right arm
        was gone. For a whole day he drifted in a strong gale under reefed sails before
        he would leave the spot to take the direction in which he supposed Chirikof to
        be. Then he was obliged to lie to again, and on the morning of the 22d, finding
        himself twelve leagues south of the point of separation, it was concluded in a
        council of officers to abandon further search and resume their course, not the
        last course of east by north as it should have been, but to the southward till
        latitude 46° was reached, where they had already been and seen nothing. It was
        now evident that Bering was becoming incompetent; that, deprived of the
        assistance of Chirikof’s stronger mind and sounder
        judgment, he intended to follow strictly the resolutions of the Avatcha council. He would steer south-east by east to
        latitude 46°, then change the course to east by north, and thus waste in
        mid-ocean the brief days of the short northern summer. The 24th saw Bering at
        the southernmost point named, where numbers of birds seemed to indicate land
        ahead, and tempted him to continue to latitude 45° 16', when finding nothing,
        and convinced for a second time of the inaccuracy of Croyère’s chart, he again bent his course east by north, which was changed the third day
        to north-north-east to compensate for having gone below latitude 46°. The wind
        changed repeatedly from south-west to south-east, being always light and accompanied
        with clouds and fogs; but nothing special occurred until the 9th of July, when
        a strong easterly wind compelled them to head more to the north until they
        reached latitude 51° 30'. The wind then changed, allowing them to steer
        north-east by east. From time to time they were misled by land-floating drift,
        and weeds, and marine mammals, but the lead indicated a depth of between one
        hundred and ninety and two hundred fathoms.
         The
        second month was now at hand, and Bering ordered a reduced allowance of water.
        From the 12th of July he was so firmly convinced of the close proximity of
        land that he hove to at night lest he should run aground. Five weeks had
        elapsed since the Sv Petr had left Avatcha Bay and the ship’s log showed that forty-six
        degrees of longitude separated them from their point of departure, and still
        the land remained invisible. The wind became more favorable, blowing from the
        west, and Bering concluded to change his course to the northward in order to
        fall in the sooner with the land.
   
        
        
        
           
 TRACES
        OF BERING AND CHIRIKOF
             On
        the 13th, in latitude 54° 30', in a council of officers, another change to
        north-north-east was determined on. These frequent changes and the general
        indecision in the management of the expedition proved almost fatal; but about
        noon of the 16th, in latitude 58° 14', the lookout reported a towering peak and
        a high chain of snow-covered mountains, without doubt Mount St Elias, and the
        extending range. A north wind held them off from the point first seen, but on
        the evening of the 20th they came upon an island in 59° 40', which was Kyak, but which they called St Elias from the day.
         
 
 
        
        
           Kyak Island.
         
         It
        will be remembered that Chirikof found land on the night of the 15th while
        Bering saw Mount St Elias at noon of the 16th, which would give the former
        priority in the honor of discovery by say thirty-six hours. But even Chirikof,
        who amongst Russians was the noblest and most chivalrous of them all, if we may
        believe the story of Gvozdef, may not justly set up
        the claim as first discoverer of north-western-most America. True, Gvozdef saw only what any one might see in sailing through
        the strait of Bering— he says he saw or found himself on the land opposite to
        Asia. Other Europeans had passed that way before Gvozdef,
        and the savages had crossed and recrossed before ever Europeans were there; so
        we may well enough leave out these two sides of the northern strait, and call
        Chirikof the first discoverer of land opposite Kamchatka, which it was the
        object of this imperial expedition to find, and which he certainly was the
        first to achieve.
         After
        these years of preparation and weeks of tempest-tossing we should expect to see
        the Dane delighted on reaching the grand consummation of the united ambitions
        of monarchs and mariners. But if we may believe Steller, when his officers
        gathered round with their congratulations Bering shrugged his shoulders as he
        glanced at the rugged shore and said, “A great discovery no doubt, and the
        accomplishment of all our desires; but who knows where we are, when we shall
        see Russia, and what we shall have to eat in the mean time?”
             Beating
        up with a light wind Bering succeeded in gaining anchorage on a clay bottom
        under the lee of the island in twenty-two fathoms. Two boats were sent ashore,
        one under Khitrof to reconnoitre,
        and another in which was Steller in search of water. Khitrof found among the small islands in the gulf a good harbor. He saw some rude
        deserted huts whose owners had probably retreated on the approach of the
        Russians. The habitations were constructed of logs and rough planks, and were
        roofed with bark and dried grass. A few semi-subterranean structures of sods
        evidently served as storehouses. On entering, the Russians picked up some rough
        cordage, a whetstone on which copper implements had been sharpened, a small box
        of poplar wood, a rattle made of baked clay, several broken arrows, and
        articles of household furniture? In another place the men came upon a cellar
        in which was a quantity of dried salmon. Of this Khitrof took two bundles. There were several red foxes which seemed not at all
        frightened at the sight of the Russians. To compensate the natives for the fish
        taken, some trifles of Russian manufacture, tobacco and clay pipes, were left.
         Steller’s
        party landed on another island and found a cellar or subterranean storehouse
        with some red salmon, and herbs dressed in a manner customary with the
        Kamchatkans. He also found ropes made of sea-weed, and various household
        utensils. Going inland he came to a place where some savages had been eating,
        and had left there an arrow and an instrument for lighting fire by friction.
        Steller also gathered plants to analyze on shipboard. He regretted that no more
        time was granted him in which to examine the American coast, his whole stay
        covering only six hours, while the sailors were filling the watercasks.
        The latter reported having found two fireplaces lately in use. They saw pieces
        of hewn wood, and the tracks of a man in the grass; some smoked fish was also
        brought on board and was found quite palatable.
   Early
        next morning, the 21st of July, contrary to his custom Bering came on deck and
        ordered anchor up. It was no use for the officers to call attention to the yet
        unfilled water-casks, or beg to see something of the country they had found.
        The Dane was deaf alike to argument and entreaty. For once during the voyage he
        was firm. He and a hundred others had been working for the past eight years to
        the one end of seeing that land; and now having seen it, that was the end of
        it; he desired to go home. It would have been as well for him had he tarried
        long enough at least to fill his water-casks.
             Dense
        clouds obscured the sky as Bering began his return voyage, and rain fell
        incessantly. Dismal forces were closing in round the Dane, to whom Russia was
        very far away indeed. By soundings a westerly course was shaped along a depth
        of from forty to fifty fathoms, by which means he was enabled to avoid the
        coast he could not see. On the 25th the general opinion in council was that by
        steering to the southwest the coast of Kamchatka must be finally reached.
        Easterly winds drove the vessel to within a short distance of some shore
        invisible through the fog, and the greatest caution had to be observed in
        keeping away from the banks and shoals indicated by the soundings. On the 26th
        land was made once more, probably the coast of Kadiak, but an easterly wind and
        shallow water prevented a landing. Too much land now, to avoid which a more
        direct course south was taken; but progress was impeded by the numerous
        islands which skirted the continent, hidden in impenetrable fog.
             On
        the 30th an island was discovered which Bering named Tumannoi,
        or Foggy Island, but no landing was made. Little progress was made among the
        islands in August, owing to the thick mist and contrary winds. As the water
        gave out and scurvy came the ship once more found itself among a labyrinth of
        islands with high peaks looming in the distance. The largest then in view was
        named Eudokia. A small supply of water, consisting of a few casks only, was
        obtained there, the heavy surf making the landing dangerous. At a new council
        held the 10th, in latitude 53°, to which petty officers were admitted, it was
        determined that as it had been decided to return to Kamchatka at the end of
        September, and it was then already near the middle of August, and the harbor of
        Petropavlovsk was at least 1,600 miles distant, while twenty-six of the company
        were ill, a further exploration of the American coast had become
        impracticable, and it was necessary to proceed to the parallel of
        Petropavlovsk, and then sail westward to Kamchatka.
         Now,
        it is very plain to one having a knowledge of the currents that it was much
        easier to make such a resolution than to carry it out. Further than this, all
        attempts to proceed to the westward were baffled by the barrier of land. Then
        they must have water, and so they anchored on the 30th, at a group of islands
        in latitude 54° 48'. Here the first death occurred—a sailor named Shumagin succumbed to scurvy. His name was given to the
        island, and a supply of brackish water was obtained.
   The
        commander now fell ill, and was soon confined to his cabin. The Sv Petr was at this place six days. One night
        a fire had been observed on a small island toward the north-east, and while the
        larger boats were engaged in watering, Khitrof went
        there with five men, but only, after a long pull, to find the people gone. In
        attempting to return, a strong head-wind threw them upon the beach of another
        island, and kept them there till the 2d of September, when they were relieved
        by the larger boat. During the next two days several unsuccessful attempts were
        made to proceed, for the ship’s position was perilous. After a violent storm,
        which lasted all night, loud voices were heard on the nearest island on the
        morning of the 5th. A fire was plainly visible, and to the great joy of the
        discoverers two canoes, each containing a native, advanced toward the ship.
        They stopped, however, at a considerable distance displaying sticks adorned
        with eagles’ feathers; and with gestures invited the Russians to come ashore. The
        latter, on the other hand, threw presents to the savages, and endeavored to
        induce them to approach the vessel, but in vain. After gazing with mingled
        wonder and dread for a time at the strange craft, the natives paddled for the
        shore.
   Lieutenant Waxel, accompanied by nine men well armed, went to
        pay them a visit. They beckoned them to come to the boat; the savages in return
        beckoned the strangers to disembark. At last Waxel ordered three men to land, among them the interpreter, while he moored the
        boat to a rock.
         Expressions
        of good-will were profuse on both sides, the natives offering a repast of
        whale-meat. Their presence on the island was evidently temporary, as no women
        or children or habitation could be seen, and for every man there was just one bidarka,
        or skin canoe having two or three seats—the Russian term for an improved kyak. No bows, arrows, spears, or any other weapons which
        might have alarmed the strangers, were visible, and the Russians went about
        freely among the natives, taking care, in accordance with strict injunctions of Waxel, not to lose sight of the boat. Meanwhile one
        of the natives summoned courage to visit Waxel in the
        boat. He seemed to be an elder and a chief, and the lieutenant gave him the
        most precious thing he had—brandy; the savage began to drink, but immediately
        spat it out, crying to his people that he was poisoned. All Waxel’s efforts to quiet him were unavailing; needles, glass beads, an iron kettle,
        tobacco, and pipes were offered in vain. He would accept nothing. He was
        allowed to go, and at the same time Waxel recalled
        his men. The natives made an attempt to detain them, but finally allowed the
        two Russians to go, keeping hold of the interpreter. Others ran to the rock to
        which the boat was moored and seized the rope, which Waxel thereupon ordered cut. The interpreter in the mean time pleaded with the
        Russians not to abandon him, but they could afford no aid. As a final effort to
        save the interpreter two muskets were discharged, and as the report echoed from
        the surrounding cliffs, the savages fell to the ground while the interpreter
        sprang into the boat. As the ship was making ready to sail next day seven of
        these savages came and exchanged gifts. This was on the 6th of September. After
        a very stormy passage land was sighted again on the 24th, in latitude 51° 27'.
        There was a coast with islands and mountains, to the highest of which Bering
        gave the name of St John, from the day.
         The
        position of the ship was critical. Finally they escaped the dangerous shore,
        only to be driven by a storm of seventeen days’ duration down to latitude 48°.
        Disease spread. Every day one or more died, until there were scarcely enough
        left to manage the ship. “The most eloquent pen,” said Steller, “would fail to
        describe the misery of our condition.” Opinion was divided whether they should
        seek a harbor on the American coast or sail directly to Kamchatka. Bering was
        profuse in his promises to celestial powers, slighting none, Catholic or
        Protestant, Greek or German. He vowed to make ample donations to the Russian
        church at Petropavlovsk and to the Lutheran church at Viborg, Finland, where
        some of his relatives resided.
             A
        northerly course was kept until the 22d of October, when an easterly breeze
        made it possible to head the unfortunate craft for Kamchatka. Only fifteen
        casks of water remained, and the commander was so reduced by sickness and
        despondency that the burden of affairs fell almost wholly on Waxel. On the 25th land was sighted in latitude 51° and
        named St Makarius. This was the island of Amchitka. On the 28th another island
        in latitude 52° was named St Stephen (Kishka). On the 29th in latitude 52° 30' still another island was discovered and named St Abram (Semichi Island). On the 30th two other islands were sighted
        and mistaken by the bewildered navigators as the first of the Kuriles. On the
        1st of November in latitude 54° they found themselves within about sixteen
        miles of a high line of coast.
         The
        condition of the explorers still continued critical. Notwithstanding sickness
        and misery the decimated crew was obliged to work night and day, in rain, snow,
        and cold; the sails and rigging were so rotten that it was dangerous to set
        much canvas, even if the crew had been able. At last, on the 4th, the lookout
        sighted land. It was distant; only the mountain tops appearing above the
        horizon; and though the Sv Petr was
        headed directly for the land all day, they could not reach it. An observation
        at noon made the latitude 56°.
         “
        It would be impossible to describe,” says Steller, “the joy created by the
        sight of land; the dying crawled upon deck to see with their own eyes what they
        would not believe; even the feeble commander was carried out of his cabin. To
        the astonishment of all a small keg of brandy was taken from some hiding-place
        and dealt out in celebration of the supposed approach to the coast of
        Kamchatka.”
             On
        the morning of the 5th another misfortune was discovered. All the shrouds on
        the starboard side were broken, owing to contraction caused by frost.
        Lieutenant Waxel at once reported to the commander,
        who was confined in his berth, and from him received orders convoking a council
        of officers to deliberate upon the situation. It was well known that the fresh
        water was almost exhausted, and that the ravages of scorbutic disease were
        becoming more alarming every day. The continuous wetting with spray and rain
        became more dangerous and insupportable as the cold increased, covering with a
        coat of ice the surface of every object exposed to its action, animate or inanimate.
        Soon the council came to the conclusion that it was necessary to seek relief at
        the nearest point of land, be it island or continent. The wind was
        from the north, and the soundings indicated between thirty and forty fathoms
        over sandy bottom. After steering south-west for some time the soundings
        decreased to twelve fathoms, and the vessel was found to be only a short
        distance from the shore. Then at the command of Waxel,
        over the bows of the doomed ship, down went the anchors of the Sv Petr for the last time. It was 5 o’clock
        in the afternoon. The sea began to rise, and in less than an hour a cable
        broke. Then other cables were lost; and just as the despairing mariners were
        about to bend the last one on board, a huge wave lifted the vessel over a ledge
        of rocks into smooth water of about four fathoms, but not before seriously
        injuring the hull. This action of the elements settled the fate of the
        expedition; there was no alternative but to remain for the winter on that
        coast, ignorant of its extent and location as they were. It was on a calm
        moonlit night that the stormy voyage of over four months was thus suddenly terminated.
         All
        able to work were landed to prepare for disembarking the sick. A preliminary
        shelter was constructed by digging niches into the sandy banks of a small
        stream and covering them with sails. Driftwood was found along the shore, but
        there was no sign of any timber which might be made useful. No trace of human
        occupation was visible. On the morning of the 8th preparations for landing the
        sick were completed and the work began. Many of the unfortunates drew their
        last breath as. soon as they come in contact with the fresh air, while others
        expired during the process of removal. During the day following Commander
        Bering was carried ashore. He had been daily growing weaker, and had evidently
        made up his mind that he must die. Four men carried him in a hand-barrow well
        secured against the air. Shortly afterward the last remnant of the unfortunate
        ship was torn from its single cable and came upon the shore. Steller searched
        in vain for antiscorbutic herbs and plants under the deep snow, and there was
        no game or wild-fowl at hand. The only animals visible on land were the pestsi or Arctic foxes, exceedingly bold and
        rapacious. They fell upon the corpses and devoured them almost before the
        survivors could make preparations for their burial. It seemed to be impossible
        to frighten them away. The stock of powder was small, and it would not do to
        waste it on beasts; it must be kept for killing men. The sea-otter was already
        known to the Russians from a few specimens captured on the coast of Kamchatka,
        and among the Kurile Islands. Soon the castaways discovered the presence of
        these animals in the surrounding waters. The flesh seemed to them most palatable,
        and Steller even considered it as anti-scorbutic. The skins were preserved by
        the survivors and subsequently led to the discovery of a wealth that Bering and
        Chirikof had failed to see in their voyages of observation.
         Some
        relief in the way of provisions was afforded by the carcass of a whale cast
        upon the beach. It was not very delicate food, but proved of great service
        when nothing better could be had. It afforded also the material for feeding
        lamps during the long dreary nights of winter. No distinction was made in the
        division of food between officers and men; every one had a fair and equal
        portion. Lieutenant Waxel was now recognized as
        general manager, the commander being beyond duty. Misfortune and misery had toned
        down the rough aggressiveness of the lieutenant, and nearly all of the wise
        regulations thereafter adopted must be credited to him, though he frequently
        acted upon Steller’s advice. Both did their utmost to give occupation to all
        who were able as the only remedy against their mortal enemy, the scurvy.
         Toward
        the end of November Khitrof and Waxel also were prostrated by disease, and the prospect before the castaways was
        indeed a gloomy one. The excursions to different parts of the island in search
        of food and fuel became more and more contracted, and dull despair settled upon
        the whole community.
   As
        for the commander, no wonder he had longed to return; for it was now apparent
        to all, as it may have been to him these many days, that he must die. And we
        can pardon him the infirmities of age, disease, and temper; the labors of his
        life had been severe and his death was honorable, though the conditions were by
        no means pleasing. Toward the last he became if possible more timid, and
        exceedingly suspicious. He could hardly endure even the presence of Steller,
        his friend and confidant, yet this faithful companion praises his firm spirit
        and dignified demeanor.
             It
        was under such circumstances that Vitus Bering died—on this cold forbidding
        isle, under the sky of an Arctic winter, the 8th of December 1741, in a
        miserable hut half covered by the sand which came trickling down upon him
        through the boards that had been placed to bar its progress. Thus passed from
        earth, as nameless tens of thousands have done, the illustrious commander of
        the expeditions which had disclosed the separation of the two worlds and discovered
        north-westernmost America.
             On
        the 10th of December the second mate, Khotiaintzof,
        died, and a few days later three of the sailors. On the 8th of January death
        demanded another victim, the commissary Lagunof,
        making thirty-one up to this time.
         At
        length the survivors began slowly to improve in health. The ship’s constable, Rossilius, with two men, was despatched northward to explore; but they learned only that they were on an island. Later
        the sailor, Anchugof, was ordered southward, and
        after an absence of nearly four weeks he returned half-starved, without
        information of any kind. Another was sent west, but with the same result. It
        was only then that many would believe they were not on the shore of Kamchatka,
        and that it depended upon their own exertions whether they ever left their
        present dwellings, certainly not very attractive ones, these excavations in
        the earth roofed over with sails. The foreigners formed a separate colony in
        one large cavity. There were five of these, Steller, Rossilius, Plenisner, Assistant Surgeon Betge,
        and a soldier named Zand. Waxel occupied a dwelling
        by himself and another private domicile had been constructed by the two
        boatswains, Ivanof and Alexeief.
        All the others lived together in one large excavation.
         The
        provisions were by no means abundant, but great care was exercised in
        distributing them, keeping always in view the possibility of a further
        sea-voyage in search of Kamchatka. The principal food was the meat of marine
        mammals killed about the shore, seaotters, seals, and sea-lions. Carcasses of
        whales were cast ashore twice during the winter, and though in an advanced
        state of putrefaction they yielded an abundant supply to the unfortunates, who
        had ceased to be very particular as to the quality of their diet. In the spring
        the sea-cows made their appearance and furnished the mariners with an abundance
        of more palatable meat. The only fuel was drift-wood, for which they had to
        mine the deep snow for eight or ten miles round. The winter was cold and stormy
        throughout, and the approach of spring was heralded by dense fogs hanging about
        the island for weeks without lifting sufficiently to afford a glance at the
        surrounding sea.
             A
        council was now held and some proposed sending the single remaining ship’s boat
        for assistance; others were of the opinion that the ship itself, though half
        broken up, might still be repaired; but finally it was determined to take the
        wreck entirely to pieces and out of them construct a new craft of a size
        sufficient to hold the entire company. A singular question here presented
        itself to these navigators, accustomed as they were to the iron discipline of
        the imperial service, Would they not be punished for taking to pieces a
        government vessel? After some discussion it dawned on their dim visions that
        perhaps after all the punishment of their dread ruler might be no worse than
        death on that island. Hence it was solemnly resolved to begin at once; the wreck
        was dismantled, and in May the keel was laid for the new vessel.
             The
        three ship’s carpenters were dead, but a Cossack who had once worked in the
        ship-yard at Okhotsk was chosen to superintend the construction, and he proved
        quite successful in drawing the plans and moulding the frames. The lack of material and tools naturally delayed the work, and it
        was the 10th of August before the vessel could be launched. She was constructed
        almost wholly without iron, and measured thirty-six feet in length at the
        keel, and forty-one feet on deck, with a beam of twelve feet and a depth of
        hold of only five and a half feet. She was still called the Sv Petr. The vessel had to be provisioned wholly from the meat of
        sea-animals.
         On
        the 16th of August, after a stay of over nine months on this island, to which
        they gave the name of Bering, at the suggestion of Khitrof,
        and after protracted prayers and devotions, this remnant of the commander’s
        crew set sail from the scene of suffering and disaster. On the third day out,
        as might be expected from such construction, the vessel was found to be
        leaking badly, and within half an hour there were two feet of water in the
        hold. Some lead and ammunition were thrown out, and the leak was stopped. On
        the ninth day the hearts of the unhappy crew were gladdened, by a full view of
        the Kamchatka shore, and on the following day, the 26th of August, the juvenile Sv Petr was safely anchored in the bay
        of Avatcha. The survivors were received by the few
        inhabitants of Petropavlovsk with great rejoicing; they had long since been
        given up as dead. They remained at the landing-place to recuperate for nearly a
        year, and finally proceeded to Okhotsk in 1743.
         Before
        he had fairly recovered from the effects of his last voyage, Chirikof made
        another effort to see something more of the American coast which he had found.
        He commanded the Sv Pavel again, but
        the only officer of the former voyage now with him was the pilot Yelagin.
        Sailing from Avatcha Bay the 25th of May 1742, he
        shaped his course due east. His progress was slow, and on the 8th of June he
        sighted the first land in latitude 52°. Only the snow-covered tops of high
        mountains were visible above the fog and clouds which enveloped the island
        called by Chirikof, St Theodore, but which we know today as Attoo.
        A series of southerly gales then set in which carried the ship northward to
        latitude 54° 30'. On the 16th of June, owing to the wretched condition of the
        vessel, it was deemed best to return to Kamchatka. On the way back the Sv Pavel passed within a short distance of
        the island where at that moment Bering’s companions were still suffering.
        Chirikof sighted the southern point of the island and named it St Julian. The
        expedition reached Petropavlovsk the 1st of July. In the August following, and
        before the survivors of Bering’s party could reach that port, Chirikof sailed
        for Okhotsk.
   Call
        it science, or patriotism, or progress, there is this to be said about the
        first Russian discoveries in America—little would have been heard of them for
        some time to come if ever, had it not been for the beautiful furs brought back
        from Bering Island and elsewhere. Siberia was still sufficient to satisfy the
        tsar for purposes of expatriation, and the Russians were not such zealots as to
        undertake conquest for the sake of conversion, and to make religion a cloak for
        their atrocities; hence, but for these costly skins, each of which proclaimed
        in loudest strains the glories of Alaska, the Great Land might long have rested
        undisturbed. Be that as it may, it was chiefly on the voyages of Bering and
        Chirikof that Russia ever after based her claim to the ownership of
        north-westernmost America.
             
 
 CHAPTER VI.
        THE
        SWARMING OF THE PROMYSHLENIKI.
             | 

Kyak Island.
  