Bering Sea.—Unalaska.—The Pribilow Islands.—St. Matthew.—St. Laurence.—Bering’s Straits.—The Russian Fur Company.—The Aleuts.—Their Character.—Their Skill and Intrepidity in hunting the Sea-otter.—The Sea-bear.—Whale-chasing.—Walrus-slaughter.—The Sea-lion.

Bering Sea is extremely interesting in a geographical point of view, as the temperature of its coasts and islands exhibits so striking a contrast with that part of the Arctic Ocean which extends between Greenland, Iceland, Norway, and Spitzbergen, and affords us the most convincing proof of the benefits we owe to the Gulf Stream, and to the mild south-westerly winds which sweep across the Atlantic. While through the sea between Iceland and Scotland, a part of the warmth generated in the tropical zone penetrates by means of marine and aËrial currents as far as Spitzbergen and the western coast of Nova Zembla, the Sea of Bering is completely deprived of this advantage. The long chain of mountainous islands which bounds it on the south serves as a barrier against the mild influence of the Pacific, and instead of warm streams mixing with its waters, many considerable rivers and deep bays yearly discharge into it enormous masses of ice. Thus as soon as the navigator enters Bering Sea he perceives at once a considerable fall in the temperature, and finds himself suddenly transferred from a temperate oceanic region to one of a decidedly Arctic character. In spite, therefore, of their comparatively southerly position (for the Straits of Bering do not even reach the Arctic Circle, and the Andrianow Islands are ten degrees farther to the south than the FeroËs), those frigid waters are, with regard to climate, far less favorably situated than the seas of Spitzbergen.

The same gradual differences of temperature and vegetation which we find in Unalaska, the Pribilow Islands, St. Laurence, and the Straits of Bering, within 10° of latitude, occur in the Shetland Islands, Iceland, Bear Island, and Spitzbergen at distances of almost 20°; so that in the Sea of Bering the increase of cold on advancing to the north is about twice as rapid as in the waters between North Europe and North America.

The long and narrow peninsula of Aliaska, which forms the south-eastern boundary of this inhospitable sea, shows us its influence in a very marked degree, for while the climate of the northern side of that far-projecting land-tongue has a decidedly Arctic character, its southern coasts fronting the Pacific enjoy a temperate climate. The mountain-chain which, rising to a height of five or six thousand feet, forms the backbone of the peninsula, serves as the boundary of two distinct worlds, for while the northern slopes are bleak and treeless like Iceland, the southern shores are covered from the water’s edge with magnificent forests. While on the northern side the walrus extends his excursions down to 56° 30´ N. lat., on the southern exposure the hummingbird is seen to flit from flower to flower as high as 61°, the most northerly point it is known to attain.

The FeroË Islands (64° N. lat.) have undoubtedly a no very agreeable climate to boast of, but they may almost be said to enjoy Italian skies when compared with Unalaska (54° N. lat.), the best known of the Aleutian chain.

The Scandinavian archipelago is frequently obscured with fogs, but here they are perpetual from April to the middle of July. From this time till the end of September the weather improves, as then the southerly winds drive the foggy region more to the north, and enable the sun to shine during a few serene days upon the bleak shores of Unalaska. But soon the Polar air-streams regain the supremacy, and a dismal veil once more shrouds the melancholy island. Of Sitka, the chief town of Aliaska, Mr. Whymper says: “It enjoys the unenviable position of being about the most rainy place in the world. Rain ceases only when there is a good prospect of snow.” Snow generally begins to fall early in October, and snow-storms occur to the very end of May. There are years in which it rains continually during the whole winter. In the FeroËs some service-trees are to be seen twelve feet high or more, while nothing like a tree ever grew in Unalaska. The difference between the temperatures of the summer and winter, which in the FeroËs is confined to very narrow limits, is much more considerable in Unalaska, though here also the moderating influence of the sea makes itself felt. Thus in summer the thermometer rarely rises above 66°, but on the other hand in winter it still more rarely falls below -2°.

Of course no corn of any kind can possibly ripen in a climate like this, but the damp and cool temperature favors the growth of herbs. In the moist lowlands the stunted willow-bushes are stifled by the luxuriant grasses; and even on the hills, the vegetation, which is of a decidedly Alpine character, covers the earth up to the line of perpetual snow; while several social plants, such as the Lupinus nootkeanus and the Rhododendron kamtschadalicum, decorate these dismal regions with their brilliant color. The lively green of the meadows reminds one of the valley of Urseren, so well known to all Alpine tourists. The mosses and lichens begin already at Unalaska to assume that predominance in the Flora which characterizes the frigid zone.

A few degrees to the north of the Aleutian chain, which extends in a long line from the promontory of Aliaska to Kamchatka, are situated the Pribilow Islands, St. George and St. Paul, which are celebrated in the history of the fur-trade, the former as the chief breeding-place of the sea-bear, the latter as that of the sea-lion. Chamisso was struck with their wintry aspect, for here no sheltered valleys and lowlands promote, as at Unalaska, a more vigorous vegetation. The rounded backs of the hills and the scattered rocks are covered with black and gray lichens; and where the melting snows afford a sufficient moisture, sphagnum, mosses, and a few weeds occupy the marshy ground. The frozen earth has no springs, and yet these desolate islands have a more southerly situation than the Orkneys, where barley grows to ripeness. Before these islands were discovered by the Russians they had been for ages the undisturbed home of the sea-birds and the large cetacean seals. Under Russian superintendence, some Aleuts have now been settled on both of them. The innumerable herds of sea-lions, which cover the naked shores of St. George as far as the eye can reach, present a strange sight. The guillemots have taken possession of the places unoccupied by their families and fly fearlessly among them, or nestle in the crevices of the wave-worn rock-walls, or between the large boulders which form a bank along the strand.

Still farther to the north lies the uninhabited island of St. Matthew (62° N. lat.). A settlement was once attempted; but as the animals which had been reckoned upon for the winter supply of food departed, the unfortunate colonists all died of hunger.

Fogs are so frequent about the island of St. Laurence that navigators have often passed close by it (65° N. lat.) without seeing it. Chamisso was surprised at the beauty and the numbers of its dwarfish flowering herbs, which reminded him of the highlands of Switzerland, while the neighboring St. Laurence Bay, in the land of the Tchuktchi, was the image of wintry desolation. In July the lowlands were covered with snow-fields, and the few plants bore the Alpine character in the most marked degree. Under this inclement sky, the mountains, unprotected by vegetation, rapidly fall into decay. Every winter splits the rocks, and the summer torrents carry the fragments down to their feet. The ground is everywhere covered with blocks of stone, unless where the sphagnum, by the accumulation of its decomposed remains, has formed masses of peat in the swampy lowlands.

On sailing through Bering’s Straits, the traveller may see, in clear weather, both the Old and the New World. On both sides rise high mountains, precipitously from the water’s edge in Asia, but separated from the sea by a broad alluvial belt on the American side. The sea is deepest on the Asiatic border, where the current, flowing from the south with considerable rapidity, has also the greatest force. Here also whales may be often seen, and large herds of walruses.

In former times the baidar of the Esquimaux was the only boat ever seen in the straits, and since Semen Deshnew, who first sailed round the eastern point of Asia, European navigators had but rarely passed them to explore the seas beyond; but recently this remotest part of the world has become the scene of an active whale-fishery.

The shores of Bering Sea are naked and bleak, and the numerous volcanoes of the Aleutian chain pour out their lava-streams over unknown wildernesses. But the waters of the sea are teeming with life. Gigantic algÆ, such as are never seen in the torrid zone, form, round the rocky coasts, vast submarine forests. A host of fishes, whales, walruses, and seals, fill the sea and its shores, and innumerable sea-birds occupy the cliffs. But these treasures of the ocean, which for ages furnished the Aleuts and other wild tribes with the means of existence, have also been the cause of their servitude. Had the sea-otter not existed, the wild children of the soil might possibly still be in possession of their ancient freedom; and but for the sea-bear and the walrus, the whale and the seal, the banners of the Czar would scarcely have met the flag of England on the continent of America.

As the whole fur-trade of the Hudson’s Bay Territory is concentrated in the hands of one mighty company, thus also one powerful association enjoys the exclusive commerce of the eastern possession of Russia. The regions under the authority of the Russian Fur Company14 occupy an immense space, as they comprise not only all the islands of Bering Sea, but also the American coasts down to 55° N. lat. The extreme points of this vast territory are situated at a greater distance from each other than London from Tobolsk, but the importance of its trade bears no proportion to its extent.

The company, which was founded in the year 1799, under the Emperor Paul, had, in 1839, thirty-six hunting settlements on its own territory (the Kurile Islands, the Aleutic chain, Aliaska, Bristol Bay, Cook’s Inlet, Norton Sound, etc.), besides a chain of agencies from Ochotsk to St. Petersburg. Its chief seat is New Archangel, on Sitka, one of the many islands of King George III.’s Archipelago, first accurately explored by Vancouver. The magnificent Bay of Norfolk, at the head of which the small town is situated, greatly resembles a Norwegian fjord, as we here find the same steep rock-walls bathing their precipitous sides in the emerald waters, and clothed with dense pine forests wherever a tree can grow.

A number of islets scattered over the surface of the bay add to the beauty of the scene. The furs collected by the company are chiefly those of sea-bears, sea-otters, foxes, beavers, bears, lynxes, American martens, etc., and are partly furnished by the subjects of its own territory (Aleuts, Kadjacks, KenaÏzes, Tchugatchi, Aliaskans), who are compelled to hunt on its account, and partly obtained by barter from the independent tribes of the mainland, or from the Hudson’s Bay Company. The greater part is sent to Ochotsk or the Amoor, and from thence through Siberia to St. Petersburg; the rest to the Chinese ports, where the skins of the young sea-bear always find a ready market.

Of all the aboriginal tribes which inhabit the vast territory of Russian America, the most worthy of notice is that of the Aleuts. Less fortunate than their independent relatives, the Esquimaux of the north—who in the midst of privations maintain an imperturbable gayety of temper—these islanders have been effectually spirit-broken under a foreign yoke. In 1817 the cruel treatment of their masters had reduced them to about a thousand; since that time their number has somewhat increased, the company having at length discovered that man is, after all, the most valuable production of a land, and that if depopulation increased still further, they would soon have no more hunters to supply them with furs.

Every Aleut is bound, after his eighteenth year, to serve the company three years; and this forced labor-tax does not seem at first sight immoderate, but if we consider that the islanders, to whom every foreign article is supplied from the warehouses of the company, are invariably its debtors, we can not doubt that as long as the Aleut is able to hunt, he is obliged to do so for the wages of a slave. The Bishop Ivan Weniaminow, who resided ten years at Unalaska, draws a picture of this people which exhibits evident marks of a long servitude. They never quarrel among each other, and their patience is exemplary. Nothing can surpass the fortitude with which they endure pain. On the other hand, they never show excessive joy; it seems impossible to raise their feelings to the pitch of delight. Even after a long fast, a child never grasps with eagerness the proffered morsel, nor does it on any occasion exhibit the mirth so natural to its age.

In hunting the marine animals, the Aleuts exhibit a wonderful skill and intrepidity. To catch the sea-otter, they assemble in April or May at an appointed spot, in their light skin boats, or baidars, and choose one of their most respected chiefs for the leader of the expedition, which generally numbers from fifty to a hundred boats. Such hunting-parties are annually organized from the Kurile Islands to Kadjack, and consequently extend their operations over a line of 3000 miles. On the first fine day the expedition sets out and proceeds to a distance of about forty versts from the coast, when the baidars form into a long line, leaving an interval of about 250 fathoms from boat to boat, as far as a sea-otter diving out of the water can be seen, so that a row of thirty baidars occupies a space of from ten to twelve versts. When the number of the boats is greater, the intervals are reduced. Every man now looks upon the sea with great attention. Nothing escapes the eye of the Aleut; in the smallest black spot appearing but one moment over the surface of the waters, he at once recognizes a sea-otter. The baidar which first sees the animal rows rapidly towards the spot where the creature dived, and now the Aleut, holding his oar straight up in the air, remains motionless on the spot. Immediately the whole squadron is on the move, and the long, straight line changes into a wide circle, the centre of which is occupied by the baidar with the raised oar. The otter, not being able to remain long under water, reappears, and the nearest Aleut immediately greets him with an arrow. This first attack is seldom mortal; very often the missile does not even reach its mark, and the sea-otter instantly disappears. Again the oar rises from the next baidar; again the circle forms, but this time narrower than at first; the fatigued otter is obliged to come oftener to the surface, arrows fly from all sides, and finally the animal, killed by a mortal shot, or exhausted by repeated wounds, falls to the share of the archer who has hit it nearest to the head. If several otters appear at the same time, the boats form as many rings, provided their number be sufficiently great.

The boldest of all hunters, the Aleuts of the Fox Islands, pursue the sea-otter also in winter. If, during the summer chase, the rapidity and regularity with which all the movements are performed, and the sure eye and aim of the archers command the spectator’s admiration, this winter chase gives him occasion to wonder at their courage. During the severest winter-storms the otter shelters himself on the shore of some small uninhabited island or on a solitary rock, and after having carefully ascertained that no enemy is near, coils himself up and falls asleep. While the storm still rages, two Aleuts approach the rock in two single baidars from the leeward. The hunter in the foremost baidar stands upright, a gun or a club in his hand, and waits in this position till a wave brings him near to the summit of the rock. He now springs on land, and while his companion takes care of the baidar, approaches the sleeping otter and shoots it or kills it with his club. With the assistance of his companion who has remained on the water, he springs back into his baidar as soon as the crest of a wave brings it within his reach.

The sea-bear is nearly as valuable as the sea-otter to the fur company, as the woolly skin of the young animal is the only one of the whole seal tribe which is reckoned among the finer peltry. The sea-bears are chiefly killed on the Commodore and Pribilow islands, particularly on St. Paul, where they are hunted by a certain number of Aleuts located there under Russian superintendence. The chase begins in the latter part of September, on a cold, foggy day, when the wind blows from the side where the animals are assembled on the rocky shore. The boldest huntsmen open the way, then follow the older people and the children, and the chief personage of the band comes last, to be the better able to direct and survey the movements of his men, who are all armed with clubs. The main object is to cut off the herd as quickly as possible from the sea. All the grown-up males and females are spared and allowed to escape, but most of the young animals are sentenced to death. Those which are only four months old (their furs being most highly prized) are doomed without exception; while of the others that have attained an age of one, two, or three years, only the males are killed. For several days after the massacre, the mothers swim about the island, seeking and loudly wailing for their young.

From October 5 St. Paul is gradually deserted by the sea-bears, who then migrate to the south and re-appear towards the end of April, the males arriving first. Each seeks the same spot on the shore which he occupied during the preceding year, and lies down among the large stone blocks with which the flat beach is covered. About the middle of May the far more numerous females begin to make their appearance, and the sea-bear families take full possession of the strand. Each male is the sultan of a herd of females, varying in number according to his size and strength; the weaker brethren contenting themselves with half a dozen, while some of the sturdier and fiercer fellows preside over harems 200 strong. Jealousy and intrusion frequently give rise to terrible battles. The full-grown male sea-bear, who is about four or five times larger than the female, grows to the length of eight feet, and owes his name to his shaggy blackish fur, and not to his disposition, which is far from being cruel or savage.

Armed with a short spear, a single Aleut does not hesitate to attack the colossal whale. Approaching cautiously from behind in his baidar until he reaches the head, he plunges his weapon into the animal’s flank under the fore fin, and then retreats as fast as his oar can carry him. If the spear has penetrated into the flesh, the whale is doomed; it dies within the next two or three days, and the currents and the waves drift the carcass to the next shore. Each spear has its peculiar mark by which the owner is recognized. Sometimes the baidar does not escape in time, and the whale, maddened by pain, furiously lashes the water with his tail, and throws the baidar high up into the air, or sinks it deep into the sea. The whale-fishers are highly esteemed among the Aleuts, and their intrepidity and skill well deserve the general admiration. Of course many of the whales are lost. In the summer of 1831, 118 whales were wounded near Kadjack, of which only forty-three were found. The others may have been wafted far out into the sea to regale the sharks and sea-birds, or driven to more distant shores, whose inhabitants no doubt gladly welcomed their landing. Wrangell informs us that since 1833 the Russians have introduced the use of the harpoon, and engaged some English harpooners to teach the Aleuts a more profitable method of whale-catching, but we are not told how the experiment has succeeded.

The company, besides purchasing a great quantity of walrus-teeth from the Tchuktchi of the Bering’s Straits and Bristol Bay, send every year a detachment of Aleuts to the north coast of Aliaska, where generally a large number of young walruses, probably driven away by the older ones, who prefer the vicinity of the polar ice, spend the summer months.

The walruses herd on the lowest edge of the coast which is within reach of the spring tides. When the Aleuts prepare to attack the animals, they take leave of each other as if they were going to face death, being no less afraid of the tusks of the walruses than of the awkwardness of their own companions. Armed with lances and heavy axes, they stealthily approach the walruses, and having disposed their ranks, suddenly fall upon them with loud shouts, and endeavor to drive them from the sea, taking care that none of them escape into the water, as in that case the rest would irresistibly follow and precipitate the huntsmen along with them. As soon as the walruses have been driven far enough up the strand, the Aleuts attack them with their lances, striking at them in places where the hide is not so thick, and then pressing with all their might against the spear, to render the wound deep and deadly. The slaughtered animals tumble one over the other and form large heaps, whilst the huntsmen, uttering furious shouts and intoxicated with carnage, wade through the bloody mire. They then cleave the jaws and extract the tusks, which are the chief objects of the slaughter of several thousand walruses, since neither their flesh nor their fat is made use of in the colony. The carcasses are left on the shore to be washed away by the spring tides, which soon efface the mark of the massacre, and in the following year the inexhaustible north sends new victims to the coast.

Sir George Simpson, in his “Overland Journey round the World,” relates that the bales of fur sent to Kiachta are covered with walrus hide; it is then made to protect the tea-chests which find their way to Moscow, and after all these wanderings, the far-travelled skin returns again to New Archangel, where, cut into small pieces and stamped with the company’s mark, it serves as a medium of exchange.

The skin of the sea-lion (Otaria Stelleri) has but little value in the fur-trade, as its hair is short and coarse, but in many other respects the unwieldy animal is of considerable use to the Aleut. Its hide serves to cover his baidar; with the entrails he makes his water-tight kamleika, a wide, long shirt which he puts on over his dress to protect himself against the rain or the spray; the thick webs of its flippers furnish excellent soles for his boots, and the bristles of its lip figure as ornaments in his head-dress.