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CHAPTER XII.
THE ARCTIC EXPEDITIONS.—THE NORTHEAST PASSAGE.—SEVERE CRITICISMS ON NORDENSKJÖLD. The Arctic expeditions made during the period from 1734 to 1743 have only in part any connection with the object of this work. These expeditions were, it is true, planned by Bering, and it was due to his activity and perseverance that they were undertaken. He secured vessels, men, and means, and had charge of the first unsuccessful attempt; he was responsible to the government, and in his zeal went just as far as his instructions would allow him. But his own special task soon taxed his time too heavily to permit him to assume charge of the Arctic expeditions. They were not carried out until several years after his departure from Yakutsk,—after he had ceased to be their leader. We have already shown Bering's important relation to them, something which has never before been done in West European literature. Hence our object, namely, to give Bering his dues, may therefore best be accomplished by giving a short account of the results achieved by these expeditions. The world has never witnessed a more heroic geographical enterprise than these Arctic expeditions. In five or six different directions—from the Petchora, the Obi, the Yenesei, and the Lena—the unknown coasts of the Old World were attacked.[61] For a whole decade these discoverers struggled with all the obstacles which a terrible climate and the resources of a half developed country obliged them to contend with. They surmounted these obstacles. The expeditions were renewed, two, three, yes, even four times. If the vessels were frozen in, they were hauled upon shore the next spring, repaired, and the expedition continued. And if these intrepid fellows were checked in their course by masses of impenetrable ice, they continued their explorations on dog sledges, which here for the first time were employed in Arctic exploration. Cold, scurvy, and every degree of discomfort wrought sad havoc among them, but many survived the long polar winter in miserable wooden huts or barracks. Nowhere has Russian hardiness erected for itself a more enduring monument. It was especially the projecting points and peninsulas in this region that caused these explorers innumerable difficulties. These points and capes had hitherto been unknown. The crude maps of this period represented the Arctic coast of Siberia as almost a straight line. It was first necessary for the navigators to send cartographers to these regions, build beacons and sea-marks, establish magazines, collect herds of reindeer, which, partly as an itinerant food supply, and partly to be used as an eventual means of conveyance, followed along the coast with the vessels, while here and there, especially on the Taimyr peninsula, small fishing stations were established for supplying the vessels. In the summer of 1737 Malygin and Skuratoff crossed the Kara Sea and sailed up the Gulf of Obi. In the same year the able Ofzyn charted the coast between the Obi and the Yenesei, but was reduced to the rank of a common sailor, because in Berezov he had sought the company of the exiled Prince Dolgoruki. In the year previous, Pronchisheff all but succeeded in doubling the Taimyr peninsula, and reached the highest latitude (77° 29') that had been reached by water before the Vega expedition. But it was especially in the second attempt, from 1738 to 1743, that the greatest results were attained. The two cousins, Chariton and Dmitri Laptjef, who were equipped anew and vested with great authority, attacked the task of doubling the Taimyr and Bering peninsulas with renewed vigor. By extensive sledging expeditions, the former linked his explorations to those undertaken by Minin and Sterlegoff from the west, and his mate, Chelyuskin, in 1742, planted his feet on the Old World's most northerly point, and thus relegated the story of a certain Jelmerland, said to connect northern Asia with Novaia Zemlia, to that lumber-room which contains so many ingenious cartographical ideas. But even these contributions to science were, perhaps, surpassed by those of Dmitri Laptjef. As Lassenius's successor he charted, in three summers, the Siberian coast from the Lena to the great Baranoff Cliff, a distance of thirty-seven degrees. On this coast, toward the last, he found himself in a narrow strait, from ten to twenty yards wide, and he did not stop until there was scarcely a bucketful of water between the polar ice and the rocky shore. But Cape Schelagskii, on the northeast coast, where Deshneff a century before had shown the way, he did not succeed in doubling. As a result of the labors of this great Northern Expedition, the northern coast of the Old World got substantially the same cartographical outline that it now has. The determinations of latitude made by the Russian officers were very accurate, but those of longitude, based on nautical calculations, were not so satisfactory. Their successors, Wrangell, Anjou, Middendorff, and even NordenskjÖld, have therefore found opportunity to make corrections of but minor importance, especially in regard to longitude. But it is necessary to dwell a little longer on these expeditions. Their principal object was not so much the charting of northern Siberia as the discovery and navigation of the Northeast passage. From this point of view alone they must be considered. This is the connecting thought, the central point in these scattered labors. They were an indirect continuation of the West European expeditions for the same purpose, but far more rational than these. For this reason Bering had, on his expedition of reconnoissance (1725-30), first sought that thoroughfare between the two hemispheres without which a Northeast and a Northwest passage could not exist. For this reason also he had, on his far-sighted plan, undertaken the navigation of the Arctic seas, where this had not already been done by Deshneff, and for this same reason the Admiralty sought carefully to link their explorations to the West European termini, on the coast of Novaia Zemlia as well as Japan. Moreover, the discovery of a Northeast passage was the raison d'Être of these expeditions. This alone promised the empire such commercial and political advantages that the enormous expenditures and the frightful hardships which these expeditions caused Siberia, might be justified. For this reason the government, summer after summer, drove its sailors on along the Taimyr and Bering peninsulas; for this reason, in 1740, it enjoined upon D. Laptjef to make a last attempt to double northeast Asia from Kamchatka, and this would undoubtedly have been accomplished if the unfortunate death of Bering had not occurred shortly after;[62] and for this reason, also, the government caused the charting of the coast by land after all nautical attempts had miscarried. Any extended documentary proof of the correctness of this view must be considered unnecessary. The instructions expressly state the object of the expedition: to ascertain with certainty whether vessels could find a passage or not. MÜller says the same. Scholars like Middendorff, Von Baer, and Dr. Petermann look upon these expeditions from the same standpoint, and have seen fit to give them the place of honor among all the geographical efforts in the Northeast passage.[63] Some Swedish scholars alone have found it necessary to maintain a different view. Dr. A. Stuxberg and Prof. Th. M. Fries in Upsala have published accounts of the history of the Northeast passage, in which not a word about these expeditions is found. Between the days of Vlaming and Cook, from 1688 until 1778, they find nothing to be said of explorations in this part of the world, and the charting of these waters does not, in their opinion, seem to have any connection with the history of the Northeast passage. Prof. Fries attempts to justify this strange method of treatment by the assertion that those expeditions did not seek the navigation of the Northeast passage, and did not undertake to sail a ship from the Atlantic to the Pacific. But what authority, what historical foundation, have such assertions? Simply because the Russians parceled out this work and went at it in a sensible manner; because they did not loudly proclaim their intention to sail directly from the Dwina to Japan; because they had been instructed by the visionary and fatal attempts of West Europe,—yes, one is almost tempted to say, just because those Russian expeditions alone are of any importance in the early history of the passage, the Swedish historians pass them by; Prof. Fries has even ventured the assertion that the discovery of the Northeast passage by these Russian expeditions, one hundred and thirty-seven years before NordenskjÖld, is a discovery hitherto unsurmised by anyone but the author of this work. I am not disposed to wrangle about words, and still less to interfere with anyone's well-earned privileges. By the discovery of the Northeast passage, I understand that work of geographical exploration, that determination of the distribution of land and water along the northern boundary of the Old World, that traversing and charting of the coast which showed the existence of the passage, but not the nautical utilization of it. This is the European interpretation of this question. In any other sense McClure did not discover the Northwest passage. If it is permissible to speak of the discovery of the Northeast passage after the time of Bering and the Great Northern Expedition, it is equally permissible to speak of the discovery of the Northwest passage after the time of the great English expeditions. If some future NordenskjÖld should take it into his head to choose these waters as the scene of some great nautical achievement, McClure, according to Prof. Fries's historical maxims, could not even find a place in the history of this passage, for it was not his object to sail a ship around the north of the New World. I very much doubt, however, that the Professor would in such a case have the courage to apply his maxims. Nor does Baron NordenskjÖld concede to the Great Northern Expedition a place in the history of the Northeast passage. The "Voyage of the Vega" is an imposing work, and was written for a large public, but even the author of this work has not been able to rise to an unbiased and just estimate of his most important predecessors. His presentation of the subject of Russian explorations in the Arctic regions, not alone Bering's work and that of the Great Northern Expedition, but also Wrangell's, LÜtke's, and Von Baer's, is unfair, unsatisfactory, inaccurate, and hence misleading in many respects. NordenskjÖld's book comes with such overpowering authority, and has had such a large circulation, that it is one's plain duty to point out palpable errors. NordenskjÖld is not very familiar with the literature relating to this subject. He does not know Berch's, Stuckenberg's, or Sokoloff's works. Middendorff's and Von Baer's clever treatises he uses only incidentally. He has restricted himself to making extracts from Wrangell's account, which in many respects is more than incomplete, and does not put these expeditions in the right light. It is now a couple of generations since Wrangell's work was written, which is more a general survey than an historical presentation. While NordenskjÖld devotes page after page to an Othere's, an Ivanoff's, and a Martinier's very indifferent or wholly imaginary voyages around northern Norway, he disposes of the Great Northern Expedition, without whose labors the voyage of the Vega would have been utterly impossible, in five unhappily written pages. One seeks in vain in his work for the principal object of the Northern Expedition,—for the leading idea that made these magnificent enterprises an organic whole, or for a full and just recognition of these able, and, in some respects, unfortunate men, whose labors have so long remained without due appreciation. In spite of Middendorff's interesting account of the cartography of the Taimyr peninsula, NordenskjÖld does not make the slightest attempt to explain whether his corrections of the cartography of this region are corrections of the work of Laptjef and Chelyuskin, or of the misrepresentations of their work made by a later age. About the charting of Cape Chelyuskin he says: "This was done by Chelyuskin in 1742 on a new sledging expedition, the details of which are but little known; evidently because until the most recent times there has been a doubt in regard to Chelyuskin's statement that he had reached the most northerly point of Asia. After the voyage of the Vega, however, there can no longer be any doubt."[64] The truth is, ever since 1843,[65] when Middendorff published the preliminary account of his expedition to the Taimyr peninsula, no doubt has prevailed that all who are familiar with Russian literature, or even with German literature, on this subject, have long since been convinced of the fact that the most northern point of Asia was visited and charted a century and a half ago,—that the details of Chelyuskin's expedition, so far from being unknown, are those parts of the work of the Northern Expedition which have been most thoroughly investigated and most often presented. NordenskjÖld's recognition of Chelyuskin's work comes thirty-eight years too late; it has already been treated with quite a different degree of thoroughness than by the few words expended on it in the "Voyage of the Vega." In 1841, Von Baer accused Chelyuskin of having dishonestly given the latitude of the most northerly point of Asia, and these charges NordenskjÖld prints as late as 1881 without any comment whatever. If he had only seen Von Baer's magazine for 1845[66] he would there have found the most unreserved retraction of them and most complete restitution to Chelyuskin on the part of Von Baer, and would thus have escaped ascribing to a man opinions which he renounced a generation ago. Middendorff is likewise very painstaking in presenting the history of these measurements, and is open and frank in his praise. He says: "In the spring of 1742 Chelyuskin crowned his work by sailing from the Khatanga River around the eastern Taimyr peninsula and also around the most northerly point of Asia. He is the only one who a century ago had succeeded in reaching and doubling this promontory. The fact that among many he alone was successful in this enterprise, must be attributed to his great ability. On account of his perseverance, as well as his careful and exact measurements, he stands preËminent among seamen who have labored in the Taimyr country." And furthermore, in 1785, Sokoloff published a very careful and extensive account of these labors, together with an extract from Chelyuskin's diary relating to the charting of the Taimyr peninsula, which later was published in German by Dr. Petermann.[67] The difference in latitude of the northern point of the Taimyr peninsula as determined by Chelyuskin and by NordenskjÖld is scarcely three minutes.[68] [61] Middendorff gives the following interesting outline of these expeditions: | From Petchora to the Obi: | From the Obi: | | Muravjoff and Pavloff. | Westward: | Eastward: | | Malygin and Skuratoff. | Golovin. | Ofzyn. | | Minin. | | Koscheleff. | | | From the Yenesei: | From the Lena: | | Eastward: | Westward: | Eastward: | | Minin. | Pronchisheff. | Lassenius. | | Chariton Laptjef. | Dmitri Laptjef. |
CHAPTER XIII.
THE DISCOVERY OF THE KURILE ISLANDS AND JAPAN FROM THE NORTH. The men that took part in these early Russian explorations have not yet received their just dues. Not one of them, however, needs rehabilitation so much as Spangberg. He is entitled to an independent place in geographical history, but has been completely barred out. O. Peschel and Prof. Ruge know him as Bering's principal officer, but not as the discoverer of the Kurile Islands and Japan from the north. And yet, just this was his task. He was to sail from Kamchatka to Nipon, chart the Kurile Islands, link the Russian explorations to the West European cartography of northern Japan, and investigate the geography of the intervening region,—especially the cartographical monsters which in the course of a century of contortion had developed from De Vries's intelligent map of East Yezo, Iturup (Staaten Eiland) and Urup (Kompagniland). We have already spoken of these geographical deformities, which assumed the most grotesque forms, and were at that time accepted by the scientific world. The version of the brothers De l'Isle, which perhaps was the most sober, may be seen from Map II. in the appendix. By Strahlenberg (1730) and by Bellin and Charlesvoix (1735), highly respected names among scholars of that day, Kamchatka and Yezo were represented as forming a great continent separated by narrow sounds from Japan, which was continued on the meridian of Kamchatka and Yezo, and from an eastern chain of islands—Staaten Eiland and Kompagniland—that seemed to project into the Pacific in the form of a continent. Kiriloff, who was familiar with Bering's map of eastern Asia, and made use of it, and who knew of the most northerly Kuriles, made the necessary corrections in his general map of Russia (1734), but retained, in regard to Yezo and Japan, a strangely unfortunate composition of Dutch and Strahlenberg accounts, and put Nipon (Hondo) much too far to the east. In these cartographical aids Spangberg found only errors and confusion, and he got about the same kind of assistance from his real predecessors in practical exploration. Peschel tells that Ivan Kosyrefski, in the years 1712-13, thoroughly investigated the Kurile chain; there is, however, but little truth in this. Peschel gives G. F. MÜller as his authority and refers to his book, but the latter says explicitly on this point: "All of Kosyrefski's voyages were confined to the first two or three Kuriles; farther than this he did not go, and whatever he tells of beyond them was obtained from the accounts of others." It is possible that MÜller's judgment is a trifle one-sided, but it is nevertheless certain that Kosyrefski's description of the Kuriles is based on his own explorations only in a very slight degree, and that he by no means deserves the place that Peschel and Ruge have accorded him. Nor did Lushin's and Yevrinoff's expedition in the summer of 1721 get very far—scarcely beyond the fifth or sixth island—and with them, until Spangberg appeared on the scene, Russian explorations in this quarter were at a standstill. The expedition to Japan (1738) was undertaken with three ships. Spangberg and Petroff sailed the one-masted brig, the Archangel Michael, Lieutenant Walton and first mate Kassimiroff the three-masted double sloop Hope, and Second-Lieutenant Schelting had Bering's old vessel, the Gabriel. The Michael had a crew of sixty-three, among them a monk, a physician, and an assayer, and each of the other two ships had a crew of forty-four. The flotilla left Okhotsk on the 18th of June, 1738, but was detained in the Sea of Okhotsk by ice, and did not reach Bolsheretsk until the early part of July. From here, on the 15th of July, Spangberg departed for the Kuriles to begin charting. The Kurile chain, the thousand islands or Chi-Shima, as the Japanese call them, is 650 kilometers long. These islands are simply a multitude of crater crests which shoot up out of the sea, and on that account make navigation very difficult. The heavy fog, which almost continually prevails here, conceals all landmarks. In the great depths, sounding afforded little assistance, and, furthermore, around these islands and through the narrow channels there are heavy breakers and swift currents. For nearly a century after Spangberg, these obstacles defied some of the world's bravest seamen. Captain Gore, who was last in command of Cook's ships, was obliged to give up the task of charting this region; La PÉrouse succeeded in exploring only the Boussale channel; the fogs forced Admiral Sarycheff (1792) to give up his investigations here; Captain Broughton (1796) was able to circumnavigate only the most southerly islands, without, however, succeeding in giving a correct representation of them; and not until the early part of this century did Golovnin succeed in charting the group more accurately than Spangberg. All of these difficulties were experienced in full measure by Spangberg's expedition. In constant combat with fogs, swift currents, and heavy seas along steep and rocky coasts, he had, by the 3d of August, 1738, circumnavigated thirty-one islands (our maps have not nearly so large a number), and at a latitude of 45° 30' he reached the large island Nadeshda, (the Kompagniland of the Dutch, Urup), but, as he could nowhere find a place to anchor, and as the nights were growing dark and long, the ship's bread running short, and the crew for a long time having been on half rations, he turned back, and reached Bolsheretsk on the 17th of August. Lieutenant Walton, who had parted company with his chief and had sailed as far down as 43° 30' north latitude, thus reaching the parallel of Yezo, arrived a few days later. As well as the other chiefs of these expeditions, Spangberg had authority, without a renewed commission, to repeat the expedition the following summer; hence the winter was spent in preparations for it. So far as it was possible to do so, he sought to provision himself in Kamchatka, and, especially for reconnoitering the coast, he built of birchwood an eighteen-oared boat, called the Bolsheretsk. On the 21st of May, 1739, he again stood out to sea with all four ships, and on the 25th of the same month he reached Kurile Strait, and from here sailed south southeast into the Pacific to search for Gamaland and all the legendary group of islands which appeared on De l'Isle's map. This southerly course, about on the meridian of Kamchatka, he kept until the 8th of June, reaching a latitude of 42°. As he saw nothing but sea and sky, he veered to the west southwest for the purpose of "doing the lands" near the coast of Japan. Walton, who, in spite of Spangberg's strictest orders, was constantly seeking to go off on his own tack, finally, on the 14th of June, found an opportunity to steal away and sail in a southwesterly direction. In different latitudes, but on the same day, the 16th of June, both discovered land. Walton followed the coast of Nipon down to latitude 33°, but Spangberg confined his explorations to the region between 39° and 37° 30' N. The country was very rich. A luxuriant vegetation—grape vines, orange trees and palms—decked its shores. Rich fields of rice, numerous villages, and populous cities were observed from the vessel. The sea teemed with fish of enormous size and peculiar form, and the currents brought them strange and unknown plants. The arrival of the ships caused great excitement among the natives, beacons burned along the coast all night, and cruisers swarmed about them at a respectful distance. On the 22d, Spangberg cast anchor one verst from shore, and sought to communicate with them. The Japanese brought rice, tobacco, various kinds of fruits and cloths, which, on very reasonable terms, they exchanged for Russian wares. They were very polite, and Spangberg succeeded in obtaining some gold coins, which, however, he found were described by KÆmpfer. Several persons of high rank visited him in his cabin and attempted to explain to him, by the aid of his map and globe, the geography of Japan and Yezo. As his instructions enjoined upon him the most extreme cautiousness, and as on the following day he found himself surrounded by eighty large boats, each with ten or twelve men, he weighed anchor and stood out to sea in a northeasterly direction. It was Spangberg's purpose to chart the southern part of the Kurile Islands, and, as will be seen from his chart,[69] he sought to accomplish his task, and thus complete his work of 1738. The casual observer will, however, find this map unsatisfactory and inaccurate, and will not only be quite confused in viewing these islands so promiscuously scattered about, and which seemingly do not correspond with the actual geography of this region as known to us, but he will even be inclined to suspect Spangberg of gross fraud. This is certainly very unjust, however, and after a careful study of a modern map, I venture the following opinion on this subject: In order to be able to understand his chart and course, the most essential thing necessary is simply to determine his first place of landing in the Kuriles, the island Figurnyi, and to identify it with its present name. He discovered this island on the 3d of July. MÜller says that, according to the ship's journal, it is in latitude 43° 50' N., and in spite of the fact that Spangberg's determinations in longitude, based on the ship's calculations, were as a rule somewhat inaccurate, which in a measure is shown by Nipon's being located so far west, he is nevertheless in this case right. Figurnyi is the island Sikotan and has the astronomical position of this island on the chart (according to Golovnin 43° 53' N. and 146° 43' 30" E.). This opinion is corroborated by a map of the Russian discoveries published at St. Petersburg in 1787, and by Captain Broughton, who described the island in the fall of 1796, and gave it the name of Spangberg's Island, in honor of its first discoverer. With this point fixed, it is not difficult to understand and follow Spangberg. Spangberg labored under very unfavorable circumstances. It rained constantly, the coast was enveloped in heavy fogs, and at times it was impossible to see land at a distance of eight yards. From Figurnyi he sailed southwest, but under these difficult circumstances he took the little islands of Taroko and the northern point of Yezo to be one continuous coast (Seljonyi, the green island), and anchored at the head of Walvisch bay, his Bay of Patience. From here he saw the western shore of the bay, reached its farthest point, Cape Notske, and discovered the peninsula of Sirokot and parts of the island Kumashiri, which he called Konosir and Tsyntrounoi respectively; but, as he turned from Cape Notske and sailed east into the Pacific, between Sikotan and the Taroko Islands, he did not reach the Kurile Islands themselves, and only the most northerly island in the group of the "Three Sisters" may possibly be the southern point of Iturup. He then proceeded along the eastern coast of Yezo, took the deep bay of Akischis as a strait separating Seljonyi and Konosir, then crossed in a southerly direction the large bay on the central coast of Yezo, without seeing land at its head, to Cape Jerimo (his Matmai), and had thus navigated the whole east coast of Yezo; but on account of the heavy fog, which prevented him from seeing the exact outline of the coast, he made three islands of Yezo: Matmai, Seljonyi and Konosir. In 1643, De Vries had in his map linked a number of islands together, making one stretch of country called JeÇo, and now Spangberg had gone to the opposite extreme. These explorations engaged Spangberg from the 3d to the 25th of July. He several times met inhabitants of North Yezo, the AÏno people, whose principal characteristics he has fully described, but as his men were suffering from scurvy, causing frequent deaths among them (by August 29, when he arrived at Okhotsk, he had lost thirteen, among them the physician), he resolved to turn at Cape Jerimo, and on his return trip keep his course so close to the Kuriles that he might strike the extreme points of De l'Isle's JeÇo, all of Kompagniland, and the most westerly parts of Gamaland. Spangberg's explorations were far from exhaustive. He but partly succeeded in lifting the veil that so persistently concealed the true outline of this irregularly formed part of the globe. His reconnoissance was to ascertain the general oceanic outline of these coasts. His charting of Yezo and Saghalin was left to a much later day,—to La PÉrouse, to Krusenstern, Golovnin, and others. But Spangberg's expedition nevertheless marks great progress in our geographical knowledge, for not only did he irrevocably banish the cartographical myths of that region, and, on the whole, give a correct representation of the Kurile islands clear to Iturup, the next to the last of them, but he also determined the position of North Japan, and fully accomplished his original task, namely, to show the Russians the way to Japan, and thus add this long disputed part of the Northeast passage to the other explorations for the same purpose. As was the case with that of all of his colleagues, so Spangberg's reputation suffered under the violent administrative changes and that system of suppression which later prevailed in Russia. His reports were never made public. The Russian cartographers made use of his chart, but they did not understand how to fit judiciously his incomplete coast-lines to those already known, or to distinguish right from wrong. They even omitted the course of his vessel, thus excluding all possibility of understanding his work. Hence Spangberg's chart never reached West Europe, and Cook found it necessary to reinstate him as well as Bering.[70] After that the feeling was more favorable, and Coxe,[71] for instance, used his representation of the Kuriles; but new and better outlines of this region appeared about this time, and Spangberg again sank into complete oblivion. Spangberg's safe return was a bright spot in the history of the Great Northern Expedition, and Bering was very well satisfied with the results. He permitted him and his crew to go to Yakutsk to obtain rest, and ordered him to return to St. Petersburg the next spring to render in person an account of the results of the expedition. His preliminary report, sent in advance, received considerable attention in the cabinet of the Empress, and caused much talk in the leading circles of the capital. While in Yakutsk, he received orders to travel day and night to reach St. Petersburg. Meanwhile, however, his old enemy Pissarjeff had also been active. Surreptitiously, especially from Walton, who was constantly at enmity with his chief, he had obtained some information concerning the expedition and had reported to the Senate that Spangberg had not been in Japan at all, but off the coast of Corea. This assertion he sought to prove by referring to pre-Spangberg maps, which, as we have noted, placed Japan eleven or twelve degrees too far east, directly south of Kamchatka. This gossip was credited in the Senate, and a courier was dispatched to stop Spangberg. At Fort Kirinsk, on the Lena, in the summer of 1740, he received orders to return to Okhotsk and repeat his voyage to Japan, while a commission of naval officers and scholars betook themselves to investigate the matter. These wise men, after several years of deliberation, came to the conclusion that Walton had been in Japan, and that Spangberg most probably had been off the coast of Corea. In the summer of 1742, he started out on his third expedition to Japan, but as this was a complete failure, undoubtedly due to Spangberg's anger on account of the government's unjust and insane action, and as it has no geographical significance, we shall give it no further consideration.
CHAPTER XIV.
PREPARATIONS FOR BERING'S VOYAGE OF DISCOVERY TO AMERICA.—FOUNDING OF PETROPAVLOVSK.—THE BROTHERS DE L'ISLE. We left Bering when, in 1740, he was about to depart from the harbor of Okhotsk with the St. Peter and the St. Paul, two smaller transports, and a vessel to convey the scientists, Steller and La CroyÈre, to Bolsheretsk. The objective point of the main expedition was Avacha Bay, on the eastern coast of Kamchatka. The excellent harbors here had been discovered by Bering's crew a couple of years previous. He had now sent his mate, Yelagin, to chart the bay, find a sheltered harbor there, and establish a fortified place of abode on this coast. This work Yelagin completed in the summer of 1740, and when in the latter part of September the packet boats entered Avacha Bay, they found, in a smaller bay on the north side, Niakina Cove, some barracks and huts. A fort was built in the course of the winter and the pious Bering had a church built and consecrated to St. Peter and St. Paul, thus founding the present town of Petropavlovsk. The place rapidly became the most important and pleasant town of the peninsula, although that is not saying much. In 1779, the place was still so insignificant that Cook's officers searched long in vain for it with their field-glasses, but finally discovered about thirty huts on that point which shelters the harbor. In the middle of this century it had about a thousand inhabitants, but since the sale of Russian America, Bering's town has been hopelessly on the decline. At present it has scarcely 600 inhabitants and is of importance only to the fur trade. Its first permanent inhabitants were brought from the forts on the Kamchatka, and in the course of the autumn there arrived from Anadyrskoi Ostrog a herd of reindeer to supply the command of over two hundred men with food, and thus spare other stores. This was very necessary, for although Bering had left Okhotsk with nearly two years' provisions, one of the ships, through the carelessness of an officer, stranded in crossing the Okhotsk bar, and the cargo, consisting of the ship's bread for the voyage to America, was destroyed and could not immediately be replaced. Some lesser misfortunes in Avacha Bay further diminished the stores, and hence, in the course of the winter, Bering found it necessary to have large supplies brought across the country from Bolsheretsk. The distance is about one hundred and forty miles, and as nothing but dogs could be procured, the natives were gathered from the remotest quarters of the peninsula to accomplish this work of transportation. The Kamshadales disliked journeys very much. They had already suffered terribly under the misrule of the Cossacks. They were treated cruelly, and many died of overwork and want, and the rest lost patience. The tribes in the vicinity of Tigil revolted. The Cossack chief Kolessoff, who was constantly drunk, neglected to superintend the transportation, and as a result, much was injured or ruined. Some of those supplies arrived too late to be used for the expedition. Bering's original plan was to spend two years on this expedition. He was to winter on the American coast, navigate it from 60° N. latitude to Bering Strait, and then return along the coast of Asia. But this had to be abandoned. In May, 1741, when the ice broke up, he could supply his ships with frugal, not to say very poor, provisions, for only five and a half months. Moreover, his ship's stores and reserve rigging were both incomplete and inadequate. Bering's powers of resistance now began to wane. After eight years of incessant trouble and toil, after all the accusations and suspicions he had undergone, he was now forced to face the thought of an unsatisfactory conclusion of his first voyage, at least. Besides, Spangberg's fate could not but have a very depressing influence, for it told Bering and his associates that even with the best of results it would hardly be possible to overcome the prejudices of the government authorities or their lack of confidence in the efforts of the new marine service. Undoubtedly it was such thoughts as these that swayed Bering and Chirikoff, when, on the 4th of May, they called the ship's council to consider the prospective voyage (the proceedings are not known). Although both, as well as the best of their officers, were of the opinion that America[72] was to be sought in a direction east by north from Avacha, and in spite of the fact that they were both familiar with Gvosdjeff's discovery of the American coast of Bering Strait (1732), and that their observations during the course of the winter had amply corroborated Bering's earlier opinion, they nevertheless allowed themselves to be prevailed upon to search first in a southeasterly direction for the legendary Gamaland. And thus the lid of Pandora's box was lifted. This fatal resolution was due principally to the brothers De l'Isle, and, as this name is most decisively connected with Bering's life and renown, we must say a few words about these brothers. The elder and more talented, Guillaume De l'Isle, undoubtedly represented the geographical knowledge of his day, but he died as early as 1726. He came in personal contact with the Czar during the latter's visit in Paris, and corresponded with him afterwards. His maps were the worst stumbling blocks to Bering's first voyage. The younger brother, Joseph Nicolas, on the other hand, was called to Russia in 1726, on his brother's recommendation, and was appointed chief astronomer of the newly founded Academy. In this position he was for twenty-one years engaged upon the cartography of the great Russian empire. Under his supervision the atlas of the Academy appeared in 1745, and it was supposed that he carried very valuable geographical collections with him to Paris in 1747. But if this was the case, he did not understand how to make proper use of them, and, as it is, he is of no geographical importance. When he went to Russia, he took with him, without special invitation, his elder brother, Louis, and did everything to secure him a scientific position in the country. Louis seems to have been an amiable good-for-nothing, who highly prized a good table and a social glass, but cared as little as possible for scientific pursuits. When, as a young man, he studied theology in Paris, his father found it necessary to send him to Canada, where he assumed his mother's name, La CroyÈre, and for seventeen years lived a soldier's wild life, until his brothers, on the death of the father, recalled him from his exile. In St. Petersburg his brother instructed him in the elements of astronomy, sent him upon a surveying expedition to Lapland, and finally secured him a position as chief astronomer of Bering's second expedition. This was a great mistake. Louis de l'Isle de la CroyÈre very unsatisfactorily filled his position. His Academic associates MÜller and Gmelin had no regard for him whatever, and hence under the pressure of this contempt, and as a result of this irregular and protracted life in a barbaric country, La CroyÈre, having no native power of resistance, sank deeper and deeper into hopeless sluggishness. His astronomical determinations in Kamchatka are worthless. His Russian assistants, especially Krassilnikoff, did this part of the work of the expedition. As early as 1730, Bering, as we have seen, came into unfortunate relations with Joseph De l'Isle, and this state of affairs afterwards grew gradually worse. In 1731, the Senate requested the latter to construct a map of the northern part of the Pacific in order to present graphically the still unsolved problems for geographical research. He submitted this map to the Senate on the 6th of October, 1732, that is, two years and a half after Bering's proposition to undertake the Great Northern Expedition, but this did not deter him, in 1750, from ascribing to himself, on the basis of this same map and an accompanying memoir, Bering's proposition, nor from publishing an entirely perverted account of Bering's second expedition. He clung to all of his brother's conjectures about Gamaland, Kompagniland, and Staatenland as well as JeÇo, although they were based on very unreliable accounts and the cartographical distortions of several generations. On the other hand, he most arbitrarily rejected all Russian accounts of far more recent and reliable origin, so that only Bering's and part of Yevrinoff's and Lushin's outlines of the first Kuriles were allowed to appear on the official map. He would rather reject all Russian works that could be made doubtful, than his brother's authority, and even in 1753, over twenty years after Spangberg's and Bering's voyages, he persistently sought to maintain his brother Guillaume's and his own unreasonable ideas concerning the cartography of this region. It was in part this dogged persistence in clinging to family prejudices that robbed Spangberg of his well-earned reward and brought Bering's last expedition to a sad end. When the second Kamchatkan expedition left St. Petersburg, a copy of De l'Isle's map was given to Bering as well as to La CroyÈre. De l'Isle wrote the latter's instructions—ably written, by the way—and it was a result of his efforts that the Senate ordered Bering and Chirikoff to consult with La CroyÈre concerning the route to America,—a very reasonable decree in case he had been a good geographer. As it was, the order simply meant that they were to go according to the regulations of De l'Isle in St. Petersburg. In the ship's council on the 4th of May, 1741, La CroyÈre immediately produced the above-mentioned map, and directed the expedition first to find Gamaland, which, it was claimed, could lie but a few days' sailing toward the southeast, and would furnish good assistance in finding America. But La CroyÈre was only a spokesman for his brother, who in his memoir had constructed his principal reasoning on this basis. He says here that America can be reached from the Chukchee peninsula as well as from the mouth of the Kamchatka River, but with greatest ease and certainty from Avacha Bay in a southeasterly direction to the northern coast of Gamaland. In order to support this supposition he adds: "It grieves me not to have found other information about this land seen by Don Juan de Gama than what is given on the map of my late brother, his most Christian Majesty's first geographer. But as he indicated the position of this country with reference to Kompagniland and JeÇo, and as I am certain, from other sources, of the position of these two countries, I am consequently convinced of their correct situation and distance from Kamchatka." That these miserable arguments exercised any influence upon the ship's council on the 4th of May, would seem impossible, if we did not bear in mind the conduct of the authorities in St. Petersburg. Two years previous Spangberg had sailed right across Kompagniland, Staatenland and JeÇo, and thus made every point in De l'Isle's argument untenable. Bering and Chirikoff were familiar with the results of these voyages, and shared Spangberg's opinion. For this reason they could not possibly ascribe any great importance to De l'Isle's directions which were based on antiquated assumptions, but on the other hand, they had neither moral nor practical independence enough to take their own course. The government laws, and especially the Senate decrees, bound their hands. They were to submit all important measures to the action of a commission, and were far from being sovereign commanders in any modern sense. Under these circumstances they found it advisable, and possibly necessary, to act in accordance with the opinion of these learned scholars, so as to be able later to defend themselves in every particular against the criticisms of the Academy. Hence the commission resolved that the expedition should first find the northern coast of Gamaland, follow this coast in an easterly direction to America, and turn back in time to be at home in Avacha Bay by the end of September. In this way their ships were carried far into the Pacific and away from the Aleutian chain of islands, which, like the thread of Ariadne, would speedily have led them to the western continent.
CHAPTER XV.
THE DISCOVERY OF AMERICA FROM THE EAST.—STELLER INDUCED TO JOIN THE EXPEDITION.—THE SEPARATION OF THE ST. PETER AND THE ST. PAUL. In the course of the month of May the vessels were equipped and supplied with provisions for five and a half months, several cords of wood, 100 casks of water, and two rowboats each. The St. Peter, commanded by Bering, had a crew of 77, among whom were Lieutenant Waxel, shipmaster Khitroff, the mates Hesselberg, and Jushin, the surgeon Betge, the conductor Plenisner, Ofzyn (whom we remember as the officer who had been reduced in rank), and Steller. On board the St. Paul, commanded by Lieut. Alexei Chirikoff, were found the marine officers Chegatchoff and Plautin, La CroyÈre, and the assistant surgeon Lau,—in all about 76 men. Before his departure, Bering had a very difficult matter to arrange. His instructions directed him to take with him to America a mineralogist; but when Spangberg had started out on his unexpected expedition to Japan, Bering had sent with him the mineralogist Hartelpol, and now he found it impossible in East Siberia to get a man to fill his place. Hence, as early as February, Bering applied to Steller and tried to induce him to take upon himself the duties of naturalist and mineralogist on this expedition. Steller was born at Windsheim, Germany, in 1709. He first studied theology and had even begun to preach, when the study of science suddenly drew him from the church. He studied medicine and botany, passed the medical examinations in Berlin, and lectured on medicine in Halle. Then, partly as a matter of necessity and partly from a desire to travel, he went to Danzig, where he became surgeon on a Russian vessel, and finally, after a series of vicissitudes, he landed in St. Petersburg as a lecturer in the Academy of Science. According to his own desire he went to Siberia as Gmelin's and MÜller's assistant, and, as these gentlemen found it altogether too uncomfortable to travel any farther east than Yakutsk, he took upon himself the exploration of Kamchatka. He was an enthusiast in science, who heeded neither obstacles nor dangers, a keen and successful observer, who has enriched science with several classical chapters, and had an ardent and passionate nature that attacked without regard to persons every form of injustice. His pen could be shaped to epigrammatic sharpness, and his tongue spared no one. In 1741, he wished to extend his investigations to Japan, and had, when Bering sought to secure his services, sent to the Academy a request to be permitted to participate in Spangberg's third expedition. Steller had, however, great hesitancy about leaving his special field of investigation without orders or permission, and Bering had to assume all responsibility to the Senate and Academy, and also secure for him from a council of all the ship's officers an assurance of the position as mineralogist of the expedition, before he could be induced to accept. Bering is said to have charged him verbally to make observations in all the departments of natural history, and promised him all necessary assistance. Steller accuses Bering of not having kept his promises, and, although he preserved until the last a high regard for Bering's seamanship and noble character, there nevertheless developed, during the expedition, a vehement enmity between Steller and the naval officers, especially Waxel and Khitroff, and this enmity found very pregnant expression in Steller's diary,[73] which, in this respect, is more a pamphlet than a description of travel. It is impossible, however, with our present resources, to ascertain the true state of affairs. Concerning Bering's voyage to America, we have only the St. Peter's journals kept by Waxel, Jushin, and Khitroff, and an account by Waxel, all of which have been used by Sokoloff in the preparation of the memoirs of the hydrographic department. Steller's diary, which goes into a detailed account of things in quite a different way than the official reports, was also used by Sokoloff, but as the latter had but little literary taste and still less sympathy for the contending parties, especially for Bering, he does not attempt to dispense justice between them. Steller's criticism must be looked upon as an eruption of that ill-humor which so often and so easily arises in the relations between the chief of an expedition and the accompanying scientists, between men with divergent interests and different aims. Bering and Steller, Cook and his naturalists, Kotzebue and Chamisso, are prominent examples of this disagreement. It is well known that Cook called the naturalists "the damned disturbers of the peace," and that he more than once threatened to put them off on some island or other in the ocean. Steller accuses Bering of having too much regard for his subordinate officers, but in all likelihood these had made the countercharge that he gave too much heed to the scientists. At any rate, Bering has often been blamed for—in accordance with his instruction—letting La CroyÈre take part in the councils at Avacha. But we must not forget that Steller was a hot-headed and passionate fellow who persistently maintained his own opinions. From many points in his accounts, it appears that during this whole expedition he was in a state of geographical confusion; and even after his return he seemed to imagine that the two continents were separated by simply a narrow channel. He was guided by observations of a scientific nature, and, as the course of the St. Peter was no farther from the Aleutian Islands than the appearance of seaweed, seals, and birds indicated, he constantly imagined that they were off the coast of the New World. The naval officers, on the other hand, sought guidance in sounding; but as their course carried them out upon the great depths of the Pacific, the northern wall of which very precipitously ascends to the Aleutian Islands, their measurements were of no assistance, and in various points Steller was undoubtedly correct. The principal reason for Steller's complaint must be sought in Bering's illness, and it is easily perceived that, if the scurvy had not at a very early stage undermined his strength, his superior seamanship would have secured the expedition quite different results than those that were obtained. After a prayer service, the ships weighed anchor on the 4th of June, 1741. Expectations on board were great,—the New World was to open up before them. According to the plan adopted, a southeasterly course was taken, and in spite of some unfortunate friction, Bering gave Chirikoff the lead, so as to leave him no cause for complaint. They kept their course until the afternoon of June 12, when they found themselves, after having sailed over six hundred miles in a southeasterly direction, in latitude 46° 9' N. and 14° 30' east of Avacha. According to De l'Isle's map they should long before have come to the coasts of Gamaland, but as they only saw sea and sky, Bering gave the command to turn back. With variable and unfavorable winds, they worked their way, during the few succeeding days, in a direction of N. N. E. up to latitude 49° 30', where Chirikoff, on the 20th of June, in storm and fog, left Bering and sailed E. N. E. in the direction of the American coast, without attempting to keep with the St. Peter. This was the first real misfortune of the expedition. For forty-eight hours Bering kept close to the place of separation, in hopes of again joining the St. Paul, and, as this proved fruitless, he convened a ship's council, at which it was decided to give up all further search for the St. Paul; it was also resolved—in order to remove every doubt—to sail again to the 46th degree to find Gamaland. Having arrived here, some birds were seen, whereupon they continued their course to 45° 16' N. and 16° 28' east of Avacha, but of course without any results. During the four succeeding weeks, the ship's course was between north and east, toward the western continent, but as on their southern course they had come out upon the depths of Tuscarora, which, several thousand fathoms deep, run right up to the Aleutian reef, their soundings gave them no clue to land, although they were sailing almost parallel with this chain of islands. But Bering was now confined to his cabin. The troubles he had passed through, his sixty years of age, and the incipient stages of scurvy, had crushed his powers of resistance, while his officers, Waxel and Khitroff, dismissed Steller's observations with scornful sarcasm. Not until the 12th of July did they take any precautions against a sudden landing. They took in some of the sails during the night and hove to. They had then been on the sea about six weeks. Their supply of water was about half gone, and according to the ship's calculations, which show an error of 8°, they had sailed 46½° (i. e., 54½°) from the meridian of Avacha. The ship's council therefore concluded, on the 13th of July, to sail due north, heading N. N. E., and at noon on the 16th of July, in a latitude by observation of 58° 14' and a longitude of 49½° east of Avacha, they finally saw land to the north.[74] The country was elevated, the coast was jagged, covered with snow, inhospitable, and girt with islands, behind which a snow-capped mountain peak towered so high into the clouds that it could be seen at a distance of seventy miles. "I do not remember," says Steller, "of having seen a higher mountain in all Siberia and Kamchatka." This mountain was the volcano St. Elias, which is about 18,000 feet high. Bering had thus succeeded in discovering America from the east. As they had a head wind, they moved very slowly toward the north, and not until the morning of the 20th did they cast anchor off the western coast of an island which they called Sct. Ilii (St. Elias) in honor of the patron saint of the day. On the same day, Khitroff with fifteen men went, in the ship's boat, to search for a harbor and to explore the island and its nearest surroundings. Steller, who had desired to accompany him, was put ashore with the crew that brought fresh water from St. Elias, and endeavored, as well as it was possible in a few hours, to investigate the natural history of the island. Khitroff circumnavigated the island and found various traces of human habitation. Thus, on one of the adjacent islands, a timbered house was found containing a fireplace, a bark basket, a wooden spade, some mussel shells, and a whetstone, which apparently had been used for sharpening copper implements. In an earth-hut another detachment had found some smoked fish, a broken arrow, the remains of a fire, and several other things. The coast of the mainland, which was mountainous with snow-capped peaks, was seen at a distance of eight miles. A good harbor was found on the north side of the large island. All the islands were covered with trees, but these were so low and slender that timber available for yards was not to be found. On his venturesome wanderings here, only now and then accompanied by a Cossack, Steller penetrated these woods, where he discovered a cellar, which contained articles of food and various implements. As some of these things were sent on board, Bering, by way of indemnification, caused to be placed there an iron kettle, a pound of tobacco, a Chinese pipe, and a piece of silk cloth.
CHAPTER XVI.
BERING'S PLACE OF LANDING ON THE AMERICAN COAST.—CAPTAIN COOK'S UNCERTAINTY.—THE QUESTION DISCUSSED AND DEFINITELY SETTLED. In geographical literature complete uncertainty in regard to Bering's island St. Elias and its situation off the American coast still prevails. This uncertainty is due partly to MÜller and partly to Cook. MÜller is inaccurate; in fact, confused. He says that Bering saw the American continent in a latitude of 58° 28', and at a difference of longitude from Avacha of 50° (in reality, 58° 14' and 56° 30'), but he gives neither the latitude nor longitude of the island of St. Elias, which is the important point, and on his map of 1758, where he goes into details more than in his description, he marked on latitude 58° 28': "Coast discovered by Bering in 1741." On such vague reports nothing can be based. In the ship's journal, however, which MÜller in all likelihood must have seen, the latitude of the island is entered as 59° 40', and the longitude, according to the ship's calculations, as 48° 50' east of Avacha. But as Bering's calculations, on account of the strong current, which in these waters flows at a rate of twenty miles, had an error of about 8°, the longitude becomes 56° 30' east of Avacha, and at this astronomical point, approximately correct, lies Kayak Island, which is Cook's Kayes Island, having a latitude of 59° 47' and a longitude of 56° 44' east of Avacha, and hence the question is to prove that this island really is the Guanahani of the Russians, that is, St. Elias. Cook is the authority for the opinion which has hitherto prevailed; but surely no one can be more uncertain and cautious on this point than he. He says: "MÜller's report of the voyage is so abbreviated, and his map is so extremely inaccurate, that it is scarcely possible from the one or the other, or by comparing both, to point out a single place that this navigator either saw or landed on. If I were to venture an opinion on Bering's voyage along this coast, I should say that he sighted land in the vicinity of Mt. Fairweather. But I am in no way certain that the bay which I named in his honor is the place where he anchored. Nor do I know whether the mountain which I called Mt. St. Elias is the same conspicuous peak to which he gave this name, and I am entirely unable to locate his Cape St. Elias." It would seem that such uncertain and reserved opinions were scarcely liable to be repeated without comment or criticism. But nevertheless, the few reminiscences of this chapter of Bering's explorations which our present geography has preserved are obtained principally from Cook's map; for the first successors of this great navigator, Dixon, 1785, La PÉrouse, 1786, Malespina, 1791, and Vancouver, 1792, through whose efforts the northwest coast was scientifically charted, maintained, with a few unimportant changes, Cook's views on this point. According to these views, Bering Bay was in 59° 18' north latitude and 139° west longitude, but Cook had not himself explored this bay; he had simply found indications of a bay, and hence La PÉrouse and Vancouver, whose explorations were much more in detail, and who at this place could find no bay, were obliged to seek elsewhere for it. La PÉrouse puts Bering Bay 10' farther south, at the present Alsekh River, northwest of Mt. Fairweather, the lagoon-shaped mouth of which he calls RiviÈre de Bering, and Vancouver was of the opinion that in La PÉrouse's Bay de Monti, Dixon's Admiralty Bay, 59° 42' N. lat., he had found Bering's place of landing. Vancouver's opinion has hitherto held its own. The names Bering Bay, Admiralty Bay, or, as the Russians call it, Yakutat, are found side by side; the latter, however, is beginning to displace the former, and properly so, for Bering was never in or near this bay.[75] While this Cook cartography fixed Bering's place of landing too far east, the Russians committed the opposite error. On the chart with which the Admiralty provided Captain Billings on his great Pacific expedition, the southern point of the Island of Montague, in Prince William's Sound, (the Russian name of the island is Chukli), is given as Bering's promontory St. Elias, and the Admiralty gave him the right, as soon as the expedition reached this point, to assume a higher military rank, something which he actually did. But Admiral Krusenstern, with his usual keenness, comes as near the truth as it was possible without having Bering's own chart and the ship's journal. He thinks that, according to Steller's narrative, the St. Peter must have touched America farther west than Yakutat Bay, and considers it quite probable that their anchoring place must be sought at one of the passages leading into Controller Bay, either between Cape Suckling (which on Russian maps is sometimes called Cape St. Elias) and Point Le Mesurier, or between the islands Kayak and Wingham. We shall soon see that this last supposition is correct. O. Peschel has not ventured wholly to accept Krusenstern's opinion, but he nevertheless calls attention to the fact that Bering Bay is not correctly located. He fixes Bering's landing place west of Kayak Island, and contends against considering Mt. St. Elias as the promontory seen by Bering, something which would seem quite superfluous.[76] This uncertainty is all the more striking, as, from the beginning of this century, there have been accessible, in the works of Sauer and Sarycheff, facts enough to establish the identity of the island of St. Elias with the present Kayak Island, and since the publication of Bering's own map, in 1851, by the Russian Admiralty, there can no longer be a shadow of a doubt. The map is found in the appendix of this work, and hence a comparison between the islands of St. Elias and Kayak is possible (Map IV). The astronomical situation of the islands, their position with reference to the mainland, their surroundings, coast-lines, and geographical extension, the depths of the sea about both—everything proves that they are identical; and, moreover, Sauer's and Sarycheff's descriptions, which are quite independent of the St. Peter's journal, coincide exactly with the journal's references to the island of St. Elias. Sauer says that the island, from its most southerly point, extends in a northeasterly direction ("trend north 46° east"), that it is twelve English miles long and two and a half miles wide, that west of the island's most northerly point there is a smaller island (Wingham), with various islets nearer the mainland, by which a well-protected harbor is formed behind a bar, with about seven feet of water at ebb-tide,—hence just at the place where Khitroff, as we have already seen, found an available harbor for the St. Peter. The journal, as well as Steller, describes St. Elias as mountainous, especially in the southern part, thickly covered with low, coniferous trees, and Waxel particularly mentions the fact that off the coast of the island's southern point, Bering's Cape St. Elias, there was a single cliff in the sea, a "kekur," which is also marked on the map. Sarycheff and Sauer speak of Kayak Island as mountainous and heavily timbered. Its southern extremity rises above the rest of the island and ends very abruptly in a naked, white, saddle-shaped mountain. A solitary cliff of the same kind of rock, a pyramid-shaped pillar ("kekur," "Abspringer") lies a few yards from the point. Cook, too, in his fine outlines of Kayak Island, puts this cliff directly south of the point. If we then consider that the true dimensions of Bering's island plainly point to Kayak, that his course along the new coast is possible only on the same supposition that the direction in which Bering from his anchorage saw Mt. St. Elias exactly coincides with this mountain's position with reference to Kayak, that the soundings given by him agree with those of Kayak, but do not agree with those of Montague Island, which is surrounded by far more considerable depths that have none of the above described characteristics, and which, moreover, has so great a circumference that Khitroff could not possibly have circumnavigated it in twelve hours, and finally, considering the fact that everything which Steller gives as signs that a large current debouched near his anchorage finds an obvious explanation in the great Copper or Atna estuary, in 60° 17' N., then it will be difficult to resist the conviction that Kayak is Bering's St. Elias, and that Vancouver's Cape Hammond is his Cape St. Elias. Moreover, the traditions of the natives corroborate this conclusion. While Billings's expedition was in Prince William's Sound, says Sauer, an old man came on board and related that every summer his tribe went on hunting expeditions to Kayak.[77] Many years before, while he was a boy, the first ship came to the island and anchored close to its western coast. A boat was sent ashore, but when it approached land all the natives fled, and not until the ship had disappeared did they return to their huts, where in their underground store-rooms they found some beads, leaves (tobacco), an iron kettle, and some other things. Sarycheff gives an account of this meeting, which in the main agrees with Billings's. These stories also agree with Steller's account.[78] These facts have not before, so far as the author knows, been linked together, but Sokoloff states, without proof, however, that Bering's landfall was Kayak Island.[79] This correct view is now beginning to find its way into American maps, where, in the latest works, Cape St. Elias will be found in the proper place, together with a Bering Haven on the northern coast of Kayak.[80] [75] Note 57.
CHAPTER XVII.
EXPLORATIONS ALONG THE AMERICAN COAST.—STELLER'S CENSURE OF BERING FOR UNDUE HASTE.—BERING DEFENDED.—DALL, THE AMERICAN WRITER, REPRIMANDED.—THE RETURN VOYAGE. It is by no means an easy matter to form an unbiased opinion of Bering's stay off Kayak Island. Steller is about our only authority, but just at the point where it is most difficult to supplement his account, he gives vent to most violent accusations against the management of the expedition from a scientific standpoint. On the 16th of July, when land was first seen, he says: "One can easily imagine how happy all were to see land. No one failed to congratulate Bering, as chief of the expedition, to whom above all others the honor of discovery belonged. Bering, however, heard all this, not only with great indifference, but, looking toward land, he even shrugged his shoulders in the presence of all on board." Steller adds that on account of this conduct charges might have been preferred against him in St. Petersburg, had he lived. As Bering during the first few succeeding days did not make any preparations for a scientific exploration of the country, as he even tried, according to Steller's assurance, to dissuade the latter from making the island a visit, and as Steller only through a series of oaths and threats (for thus p. 30 must undoubtedly be interpreted) could obtain permission to make, without help or even a guard for protection, a short stay on the island, his anger grew to rage, which reached its culmination on the following morning when Bering suddenly gave orders that the St. Peter should leave the island. "The only reason for this," he says, "was stupid obstinacy, fear of a handful of natives, and pusillanimous homesickness. For ten years Bering had equipped himself for this great enterprise; the explorations lasted ten hours!" Elsewhere he says derisively that they had gone to the New World "simply to bring American water to Asia." These accusations must seem very serious to every modern reader. Unfortunately for Bering, his second voyage is of interest principally from the standpoint of natural history. It is especially naturalists that have studied it. They are predisposed to uphold Steller. Hence his account threatens wholly to undermine Bering's reputation, and as a matter of course, W. H. Dall, in discussing this subject, finds opportunity to heap abuse upon Bering. He says: "On the 18th of July, Bering saw land. On the 20th he anchored under an island. Between two capes, which he called St. Elias and St. Hermogenes, was a bay where two boats were sent for water and to reconnoitre. * * * With characteristic imbecility, Bering resolved to put to sea again on the next day, the 21st of July. Sailing to the northward, the commander was confused among the various islands, and sailed hither and thither, occasionally landing, but making no explorations, and showing his total incapacity for the position he occupied. He took to his bed, and Lieutenant Waxel assumed charge of the vessel."[81] This is not writing history. It is only a series of errors and incivilities. It was not the 18th of July that Bering first saw land. He did not sail north from Kayak, but southwest, and hence could not have lost his course among islands, for here there are no islands. Nor did he sail hither and thither, but kept the course that had been laid out, and charted the coasts he saw in this course. The most ridiculous part of this is what this nautical author tells of the bay between Cape St. Elias and Cape St. Hermogenes (Marmot Island off the coast of Kadiak Island), for these points are farther apart than Copenhagen and Bremen. If, according to this writer, Bering was unpardonably stupid, he must have been, on the other hand, astonishingly "far-sighted." After these statements it will surprise no one that this author considers illness a kind of crime, and blames a patient, sixty years of age, suffering with the scurvy, for taking to his bed! If Mr. Dall had taken the trouble to study the Bering literature to which he himself refers in his bibliography of Alaska, he would have been in a position to pass an independent opinion of the navigator, and would certainly have escaped making this series of stupid statements. His words now simply serve to show how difficult it is to eradicate prejudice, and how tenacious of life a false or biased judgment can be. Death prevented Bering from defending and explaining his conduct. No one has since that time sought to render him justice. I therefore consider it my duty—even if I should seem to be yielding to the biographer's besetting sin—to produce everything that can be said in Bering's defense. In the first place, then, it must be remembered that on the 21st of July Bering had provisions left for no more than three months, and that these were not good and wholesome. His crew, and he himself, were already suffering from scurvy to such an extent that two weeks later one-third of them were on the sick-list. Furthermore, he was over fifty-six degrees of longitude from his nearest port of refuge, with a crew but little accustomed to the sea. The American coast in that latitude was not, according to Bering's judgment, nor is it according to our present knowledge, in any way a fit place to winter, and besides, he knew neither the sea nor its islands and depths, its currents and prevailing winds. All this could not but urge him to make no delay. And, in fact, Steller himself expressly says that it was a series of such considerations that determined Bering's conduct. "Pusillanimous homesickness" can scarcely have had any influence on a man who from his youth had roamed about in the world and lived half a generation in the wilds of Siberia. "The good Commander," thus Steller expresses himself, "was far superior to all the other officers in divining the future, and in the cabin he once said to myself and Mr. Plenisner: 'We think now that we have found everything, and many are pregnant with great expectations; but they do not consider where we have landed, how far we are from home, and what yet may befall us. Who knows but what we may meet trade winds that will prevent our return? We are unacquainted with the country, and are unprovided with provisions for wintering here.'" It must be conceded that his position was one fraught with difficulties. At this point there are two things which Steller either has not correctly understood, or suppresses. According to his instructions, Bering was authorized to spend two years and make two voyages in the discovery of America, and to undertake another expedition afterwards with new preparations and equipments. And in his explanations to the crew he calls special attention to this point. Under these circumstances it would not have been right in him to assume any more risks than absolutely necessary. But here again the old opposition between Bering's nautico-geographical and Steller's physico-geographical interests breaks out. As a discoverer of the old school Bering's principal object was to determine some elementary geographical facts: namely, the distribution of land and water along the new coast, and hence he left Kayak Island, not to reach Avacha as soon as possible, but to follow the coast of the newly discovered country toward the west and north. All authorities agree on this point. It was illness and the Aliaska peninsula, projecting so far into the ocean as it does, that prevented him from sailing up toward latitude 65°, his real goal. Even Steller testifies to this, and although he repeats his former accusations against Bering, it does not signify anything, as he was excluded from the councils and was obliged to guess at what was adopted. His accusations are especially insignificant from the fact that he definitely contradicts himself on this point, for later on in his narrative he says that not until the 11th of August was it resolved, on account of the approaching autumn and the great distance from home, to start immediately on the return voyage to Kamchatka. That is to say, they had not then made a start. Until the 11th of August, for three weeks after their departure from Kayak, Bering pursued his task of nautical discovery along the new coast, and it would seem that he can be blamed for nothing more than considering this work of the expedition more important than that of the physico-geographical investigation which Steller represented. This was but natural. It was merely accidental that Steller accompanied Bering, and through him the expedition received a modern cast, which was not at all designed, and which Bering desired to make use of only under favorable circumstances. We may regret his haste, and we may especially regret the fact that so keen and clever a naturalist as Steller did not get an opportunity to explore the regions west of Mount St. Elias before European trade and white adventurers put in an appearance; but it hardly seems a question of doubt whether anyone for that reason has a right to make accusations against the chief of the expedition. It was very early on the morning of July 21 that the chief suddenly, and contrary to his custom, appeared on deck and gave the command to weigh anchor and stand out to sea. In doing this he set aside his instructions from headquarters to act in accordance with the ship's council. He acted as a sovereign chief, and notwithstanding the fact that both of his lieutenants thought it wrong to leave the newly discovered coast without an adequate supply of water, he overruled all objections and informed them that he assumed all responsibility for his conduct. He was convinced of the entire necessity of it, he said, and thought it unsafe to remain longer in this exposed anchorage. Time did not permit him to go in search of the harbor found by Khitroff on the day previous, and there was moreover a seaward breeze. One fourth of the water-casks remained unfilled. Before a strong east wind, the St. Peter on that day made fifty miles on a southwesterly course. During the two succeeding days, he continued in this general direction. It was misty, and the coast was invisible, but the sounding-line continued to show a depth of from forty to fifty fathoms. In a council, concerning the deliberations of which Steller has a very confused and incorrect account, it was decided, on July 25, to sail slowly towards Petropavlovsk and, at intervals as wind and weather permitted, to head for the north and west, in order to explore the coast they had left. They continued on their southwesterly course, and on the next morning, July 26, they were off the Kadiak archipelago. In a latitude of 66° 30', and about sixteen miles toward the north, they saw a high and projecting point, which Bering called St. Hermogenes, in honor of the patron saint of the day. He thought that this point was a continuation of the continent they had left behind them, and as such it is represented on both MÜller's and Krasilnikoff's manuscript maps in the archives of the Admiralty. On his third voyage, Cook explored the Kadiak group, which he too had assumed to be a part of the mainland. He now found that Bering's promontory was a small island east of Afognak, but out of respect for Bering, he retained the original name. Krusenstern also calls it St. Hermogenes Island, but later the Russians changed it to Euratchey Island, on account of the great number of marmots there, and since the United. States came into possession of it, the name has been translated, and it is now known as Marmot Island.[82] Steller has not a single word in his diary about St. Hermogenes, and besides, his account at this point is full of inaccuracies. "Consequently, until July 26," he says, "we sailed along the coast, as these gentlemen thought it was necessary to follow it, while it would have been sufficient, at intervals of a hundred versts, to have sailed a degree or two toward the north." He thus blames them for not having followed the method which at about that time they had agreed upon, and later did follow. His story of their having, for the first five days, sailed along the coast, simply proves, in connection with a series of other incidents in his work, that things were not entered in his diary daily, but written down later from memory; hence its value as proof is considerably diminished. Along the southeastern coast of Kadiak the voyage was very dangerous. The average depth was twenty-five fathoms; the water was very roily, the weather heavy with fog and rain, and the wind violent. Not until the 31st of July was the weather clear enough for an observation, when they found themselves in a latitude of 54° 49', and had passed the Kadiak archipelago. In accordance with the plan adopted, they here veered to the northwest to seek the mainland for the purpose of determining its trend. On the night of August 1 (and 2), they suddenly approached land, having only four fathoms of water below the keel. There was a heavy fog, no wind, and a swift current, but they succeeded in shifting about and getting out into eighteen fathoms of water, where they anchored to await daybreak. In the morning, at eight o'clock, a small island was seen at a distance of four miles. It was three miles long, with an east to west trend. A long reef extended out into the sea from the eastern point, seen by them in a direction E. S. E. by E. In the evening they weighed anchor, having a heavy fog, and on the next morning, the island was seen at a distance of seven geographical miles toward the south. Its latitude was calculated as 55° 32', but as all of Bering's determinations of latitude on his return voyage from America show an error of from 30' to 45' less than the true latitude, it must be concluded that the island was in latitude 56° and some minutes. He called the island St. Stephen from the calendar day, but his crew or lieutenants must have called it Foggy Island (Tumannoi), as even Krasilnikoff's manuscript map, in the possession of the Admiralty, has this name. Later the cartography of this region became considerably confused. The name St. Stephen disappeared. Cook called another island Fog Island, while it became customary to consider the island discovered by Bering as identical with Ukamok (Chirikoff Island, Vancouver's Island), where the Russians had a colony, and thus the island itself was finally lost to geography. Notwithstanding the fact that Admiral Krusenstern, in a clever essay, has given an able review of the literature pertaining to this question, and has shown that where Bering saw St. Stephen, Cook, Sarycheff, and Vancouver likewise saw an island, different from Ukamok, and regardless of the fact that for these reasons he restored St. Stephen on his map, Lieutenant Sokoloff, who most recently, in Russian literature, has treated Bering's voyage to America, has wholly disregarded Krusenstern's essay, and says that St. Stephen is identical with Ukamok. Sokoloff's essay is very superficial, and, compared with Krusenstern's weighty reasons, is based on mere supposition. But, although the map of the North Pacific, in the Russian Admiralty (1844), has a Tumannoi Island (that is, Foggy Island, St. Stephen) somewhat northeast of Ukamok, it must be admitted that, until the United States undertakes a new and careful survey of the Aliaska peninsula and its southern surroundings, this question can not be thoroughly decided, probable as it may be that Bering and Krusenstern are both right. August 3, the voyage was continued toward the northwest. In a latitude of 56° (according to Steller) they saw the high snow-capped mountain peaks of the Aliaska peninsula in a direction N. N. W. by W., but on account of stormy and foggy weather they sought, with an easterly wind, to get back into their main course. Thus they reached, August 4, the Jefdokjejefski Islands in a direction S. S. E. ¾ by E., at a distance of twenty miles from 55° 45' N. These form a group of seven high and rocky islands, which on Russian maps still bears the same name, but in West Europe this name has been displaced, and they are usually called the Semidi, or Semidin, Islands, the name of the largest of the group. On August 7, they found themselves south of the Jefdokjejefski Islands. But now misfortunes began to pour in upon them. They encountered adverse winds which continued with but few interruptions during the succeeding months. The St. Peter was tossed about on the turbulent and unfamiliar waters of the Aleutian archipelago, where the crew experienced an adventure so fraught with suffering and dire events that it is quite beyond compare in the history of discoveries. At the same time, the scurvy got the upper hand. Bering had a severe attack which rendered him unfit for service. With his illness the bonds of discipline were relaxed. Under these circumstances there was called, on the 10th of August, an extraordinary council, in which all the officers participated. At this meeting it was finally decided to give up the charting of the American coast, and immediately start out upon the direct route homeward on parallel 52°, the latitude of Avacha. The whole crew, from the highest to the lowest, signed this resolution. The facts taken into consideration were that September had been fixed as the extreme limit of time within which to return home, and that they were then in the middle of August. Avacha was at least 1600 miles distant, autumn was at hand with dark nights and stormy weather, and sixteen of the crew were already sick with the scurvy. With a strong head-wind, in raw and foggy weather, and now and then overtaken by fierce storms, they worked their way slowly along until the 27th of August. The condition of affairs on board had grown continually worse, when it was finally announced that through carelessness and irregularity the supply of water had been reduced to twenty-five casks, a quantity that could not possibly suffice for the 1200 miles which, according to their calculations, yet remained. Hence it was necessary once more to find land to take in water, and on the 27th the St. Peter's prow was again headed for Aliaska. They sailed north one degree and a half, and after a lapse of three days they reached a multitude of high islands, behind which the coast of the mainland arose in the distance. August 30, the St. Peter lay at anchor off the Shumagins, a group of thirteen treeless, barren, and rocky islands near the coast of Aliaska. The journal gives their situation as latitude 54° 48' N. and longitude 35° 30' E. from Avacha. While the latitude as here determined has the usual error, referred to several times before, the longitude has an error of 6½°. Among these islands the first death on board occurred. It was the sailor Shumagin, who, on the 30th, died in the hands of his mates as they were taking him ashore. The islands were named in honor of him. On the whole the situation was most deplorable. Bering had fallen away so much in his illness that he could not stand, and the others that were sick were carried ashore, and lay scattered along the coast, giving this a very sad and sorrowful aspect. Confusion and uncertainty grew apace, as those in command could not maintain their authority. Waxel and Khitroff, the highest in command, bandied words, whereas the situation demanded firmness and vigor. The only one that preserved any manner of self-possession and forethought was Steller. He immediately went ashore, examined the vegetation of the island, and collected a large number of anti-scorbutic plants, especially scurvy-grass and berries, with which, in the course of a week, he succeeded in restoring Bering to sufficient strength to be able to use his limbs. Through the use of the same remedies the other sufferers were relieved. But Steller thought also of the future. The medicine chest contained "plasters and salves for half an army," but only extremely few real medicines, and hence he suggested to Lieut. Waxel, who was then in command, that he send a number of sailors ashore to gather anti-scorbutic plants, but this excellent and timely advice was rejected. Furthermore, Steller used all his influence to procure good water. He went ashore with the sailors for this purpose, and as they began to dip water from the first pool they found, one, too, which was connected with the sea during high tide, he directed them to fresh springs a little farther in the interior, but the crew sent some samples on board, and from there came the report that the water was good enough. Thus it was that a new cause of disease—in spite of Steller's protestations—was added to all the others. The water was brackish, and on standing in the casks became unfit for use. On the whole the stay at the Shumagins, which was unnecessarily prolonged, was very unfortunate. The St. Peter lay at anchor south of them in a very exposed position. On the evening of August 29, a fire was seen on one of the islands, and on this account, Khitroff wished to explore them more thoroughly, although Waxel firmly opposed releasing both of the ship's boats under the present dangerous circumstances. By applying to Bering, who was in the cabin, and hardly understood the situation, Khitroff had his way, and left the ship with the yawl and five men. He was gone four days, during which time the St. Peter was forced to lie at anchor, while a favorable east wind might have carried them several hundred miles toward home. The yawl was dashed to pieces off one of the neighboring islands, and no more came from the expedition than that Lieutenant Waxel, under great difficulty, found it necessary to rescue the six shipwrecked adventurers. Moreover, they experienced a somewhat uninteresting clash with the Innuit (Esquimo)[83] inhabitants of the Aliaska peninsula, of which MÜller and Steller both give a detailed account.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE DISCOVERY OF THE ALEUTIAN ISLANDS.—TERRIBLE HARDSHIPS OF THE VOYAGE.—STELLER'S FAULT-FINDING.—BERING CONFINED TO HIS CABIN.—DEATHS ON BOARD FROM EXHAUSTION AND DISEASE.—BERING ISLAND DISCOVERED.—A NARROW ESCAPE. The St. Peter left the Shumagin Islands September 6, and sailed southward to resume the direct course. The weather was very bad, with alternating fogs, mist, and storms. A west wind prevailed almost continuously. Now and then a regular hurricane crossed their course. If occasionally they had a favorable breeze, it seemed to last but a few hours. "I know no harder, more fatiguing life," says one of the St. Peter's officers, "than to sail an unknown sea. I speak from experience, and with truth can say that during the five months I spent on this voyage, without seeing any place of which the latitude and longitude had been fixed, I did not have many hours of quiet sleep. We were in constant danger and uncertainty." As a last resort, they even thought of returning to America, or of reaching Japan. For several days they were swept along by a storm. September 23, the second death occurred, and on the 24th they again saw, to their great astonishment, land toward the north. They were then on about the 51st parallel. They were of the opinion that they were fourteen degrees from the Shumagins, and supposed that they were 21° 39' from Avacha, which of course was very erroneous, for they were in the vicinity of the present Atka. As they saw behind the islands a high, snow-capped mountain, which, from the calendar day, they called St. Johannes, they supposed the land to be a continuation of the American continent. During the next seventeen days, from the 25th of September until the 11th of October, they carried their lower sails only, and were driven by a stormy west wind five degrees toward the southeast to a latitude of 48°. "The wind," says Steller, "seemed as if it issued forth from a flue, with such a whistling, roaring and rumbling, that we expected every moment to lose mast and rudder, or to see the ship crushed between the breakers. The dashing of a heavy sea against the vessel sounded like the report of a cannon, and even the old, experienced mate, Andreas Hesselberg, assured us that during a sailor's life of fifty years he had not before seen such a sea." No one was able to stand at his post. The ship was at the mercy of the angry elements. Half of the crew were sick and feeble, the other half well from dire necessity, but were confused and distracted by the great danger. For many days no cooking could be done, and all they had that was fit to eat was some burned ship-biscuits, and even these were on the point of becoming exhausted. No one showed any firmness of purpose; their courage was as "unsteady as their teeth." The officers now and then thought of returning to America, but their plans changed as often as the weather. During the first week in October it became very cold; heavy storms of hail and snow swept over the ship and made the work on board almost unendurable. On the 6th the ship's supply of brandy gave out, and, as the storm from the southwest still continued to rage, Waxel seriously proposed to return to America and seek a harbor of refuge, as it would be necessary in a few days, on account of the number on the sick list, to resign the ship to the mercy of the waves. Bering, however, refused to entertain this idea, and exhorted the crew to make an offering to the church—the Russians to the church in Petropavlovsk, the Lutherans to the church in Viborg, Finland, where Bering had formerly resided. As elsewhere on this whole voyage, Steller was here geographically confused, and imagined that they were sailing in a latitude of 50-53°, while in reality they were on the 48th parallel, and hence his complaint that the officers would not sail to this parallel to get a better breeze, signifies nothing. MÜller gives the correct position of the ship when he says that on the 12th of October it was in latitude 48° 18', but he too is wrong when he states that the weather did not permit them to make an observation, for just at this time they had fair weather and sunshine, and on the 11th, at noon, determined the latitude as 48° 15' and the longitude as 27° east of Avacha. During the succeeding ten days the weather was somewhat more favorable. Clear weather, with heavy frosts, prevailed; some hail and snow fell, but nevertheless they succeeded in making ten degrees on the parallel of 49° 30'. The condition on board was getting much worse. Poor water, lack of bread and spirits, the cold and wet, vermin and anxiety, undermined the last remnants of their powers of resistance. On the 19th the grenadier Kisseloff, on the 20th the servant Charitonoff, and on the 21st the soldier Luka Savjaloff, died. Even men apparently well were unable to stand at their posts from sheer want and exhaustion. Then the water supply threatened to give out. They had but fifteen casks of water, a part of which was very poor. Waxel was again thinking of searching for land toward the north, when a strong wind carried them so far westward that they supposed they had passed all traces of American regions. They then determined to keep their course on the 52° of latitude, but on the following day, to their great astonishment, they sighted the Aleutian Islands and made some new discoveries. On October 25, at a distance of 8½ geographical miles toward the northwest, they saw a high, snow-capped island, which they called St. Marcus. By an observation at noon its latitude was found to be 50° 50', but as this island is our Amchitka, and as its southern extremity, according to Admiral Sarycheff, is in a latitude of 51° 35', it is evident that the St. Peter's determinations of latitude were constantly from one-half to three-fourths of a degree less than the true latitude. Later this fact had an extremely unfortunate effect on their resolutions. On October 28, Kiska, which Bering called St. Stephen, was discovered, besides three (in reality four) smaller islands east of it, and, carried along toward the north by a southwesterly wind, they sighted, on the morning of the 29th, some low islands, which are supposed to have been the present Semichi Islands, situated east of Attu. These islands, which to them appeared as one, were called St. Abraham Island. According to the ship's journal they were seen at ten o'clock in the morning at a distance of six miles toward the west, and at noon ten miles in a direction W. S. W. It is evident that the St. Peter sailed north of these islands, but as the latitude on that day was determined as 52° 31', at least 45' too far south, and as the ship undoubtedly on the 29th and 30th of October passed the Blizhni group (the Nearer Aleutians) it is more than probable that the strait between the most westerly of the Semichi Islands and Attu was seen from the ship's deck, although the officers do not mention this island in the journal, but simply indicate it on the chart. It is, however, referred to by both MÜller and Steller. The most westerly of the Semichi Islands and Attu must be the former's Deception Islands. Steller applies all of his acuteness of mind to show that they were the first two Kuriles. Nothing shows better than this assertion how confused Steller was; hence his unsparing attacks on Waxel, and his base insinuations, are not of the least moment. "Betrayed and sold by two unscrupulous leaders," he says, "we sailed, after October 31, in a northerly direction from the 51st to the 56th parallel!" How unreasonable! They were, already on the 30th, north of the 53d parallel. A sharp southwest wind was blowing, several deaths were occurring daily, the helmsmen were conducted to the wheel by companions so deathly sick that they could scarcely walk, the ship's rigging and sails were fast giving way, the weather was raw and damp, the nights dark and long, and all attempts at the determination of latitude and longitude had about ceased. Under these circumstances was it not worthy of all honor that Waxel was still able to hold the vessel up to the wind at all and approach the Commander Islands from Attu? In a short time the wind veered to the east, and on November 4 (Steller has it the 5th), in a latitude calculated at 53° 30', they saw an elevated coast in the west at a distance of about sixteen miles. It is impossible to describe the joy occasioned by this sight. The sick and half-dead crawled on deck to see land once more, and all thanked God for their merciful rescue. Bering, almost completely exhausted, was greatly revived, and all thought of how they would rest and restore their health and vigor. Hidden brandy casks were brought out, in order that by the Vodka's assistance they might properly celebrate the happy return. And in the first moments of their exultation even the officers rejoiced to think that their calculations were not entirely wrong. All were agreed that they were off the mouth of Avacha Bay, and in the precipitous mountain sides of Copper Island they eagerly sought for the promontories which mark the entrance to that bay. The channel between Copper Island and Bering Island was hidden to their view, hence they thought they had reached Kamchatka. When, a little later, they saw through the mist the most northerly part of the strait, they were for a short time not indisposed to believe that they were near their home harbor. But soon an intense feeling of doubt seized them. According to the ship's reckoning, they were yet forty miles from Avacha. An observation at noon informed them they were at least one degree farther north than this place, and before evening came on, the coast-lines assumed an appearance that compelled them to give up all thought of having reached home. But, as Bering on his first voyage had not found land for several days' sailing east of the mouth of the Kamchatka River, they still clung to the belief that they were off the coast of the mainland. During the night, they stood to the north so as to steer clear of land, as they feared a storm. With great difficulty the topsails were taken in, but the feeble crew were obliged to leave the other sails. In the night a storm from the east rent the starboard shrouds of the mainmast so that it could no longer carry sail. The next morning, a bright and magnificent November day, the whole crew assembled for a final consultation. All that could walk or crawl, officers as well as crew, dragged themselves into the chief's cabin to hear the result. I have repeatedly called attention to the fact that Bering did not have the sovereign power with which the chief of an expedition is now-a-days endowed. The terrible disease that had overpowered him still further lessened his influence; but never had the rules and regulations appeared in worse light than on this occasion. Waxel and Khitroff, who had resolved to make a landing, sought both before and during the meeting to induce the crew to vote for this resolution; but Bering opposed it and put forth the last remnants of his strength and energy to rescue the expedition. "We have still the foremast," he said, "and six casks of water. After having endured so much suffering and hardship, we must risk everything in order to reach Avacha." Waxel and Khitroff immediately endeavored to counteract the influence of this good advice, but the subordinates were in doubt, and would not sign any resolution except on the condition that the officers expressly assured them of the fact that the adjacent coast was Kamchatka. This Khitroff finally took upon himself to do, and so partly through compulsion and partly through persuasion the lieutenants succeeded in securing a majority for their proposition. But even yet Bering sought to save his convictions, and appealed to the reduced Lieutenant Ofzyn, who had had charge of the explorations from the Obi to the Yenesei and was now serving as a sailor on board the St. Peter; but as he immediately expressed his agreement with Bering, he was in most abusive language driven from the cabin. Under these circumstances Steller found it useless to support Bering. He confined himself to certifying to the very great enervation of the crew. Before the council adjourned, it was resolved to make for the coast, where the lieutenants, in an open bay, expected to find a harbor. Before an easy northeast breeze, the St. Peter drifted toward the coast, without helmsman or commander. The chief lay at death's door in his cabin, Waxel and Khitroff were seeking rest and quiet, and not until the ship lay about four miles from land did Steller induce Bering to order them on deck. They soon began to sound, and one verst from shore they cast anchor. Night came on with bright moonlight. The ebb-tide receded over the rocky beach, producing heavy breakers. In these the ship was tossed about like a ball, until finally the cable snapped. They now expected to be dashed against the rocks at any moment. The confusion became indescribable. In order not to have a corpse on board, the dead bodies of two of their companions were thrown overboard. It had been the intention to take them ashore for burial. At this juncture the second anchor was lost; but at the last moment, just as the third was on the point of being cast, Ofzyn succeeded in establishing order and keeping the anchor on board. The vessel glided safely across the reefs, and in a few moments the boatswain and Ofzyn were able to anchor in a sheltered place. The St. Peter was safe for the time being. In this still and bright November night (the night of Nov. 6, 1741) the ship was riding at anchor off the center of the northeast coast of Bering Island, scarcely 600 yards from shore. Thus ended this frightful adventure. Very fortunately, the ship had happened to strike the only navigable channel on the east that leads to the coast of the island. It yet remains to determine with more exactness the place of stranding. On this point literature offers no reliable information. I am aware that Steller says that the vessel stranded on the northern coast of the island, but this is not to be taken literally. After the St. Peter had passed the northern point of Copper Island, which lies parallel with the trend of Bering Island, it was carried west and southwest by a northeasterly wind, and hence would strike the coast of Bering Island off, or a few minutes north of, the northern extremity of Copper Island. At this point the eastern coast of Bering Island recedes to the west and forms that bay which the officers saw ahead. From this it is evident that the place where the vessel ran ashore was four or five miles north of the present Cape Khitroff. In Waxel's journal the geographical position is entered as 55° 5' north latitude, but Fr. LÜtke gives it as latitude 54° 58' and longitude 193° 23' west from Greenwich. On his large map of a part of the Aleutian Islands, with Russian and French text, he marks the place of landing at this point with these words: "C'est prÈs de cet endroit que le commandeur Bering a fait naufrage"[84] (i. e., in the vicinity of this place Bering stranded). This place is at about the center of the eastern coast of the island, which extends at least 28' farther north to Cape Waxel, and hence only from a local point of view, just as it must have seemed to Steller as the vessel approached land, can this receding part of the coast be designated as the northern side of the island. The view here set forth is further corroborated by many places in Steller's diary, and by other accounts of the stay on the island.[85]
CHAPTER XIX.
THE STAY ON BERING ISLAND.—FAUNA OF THE ISLAND.—A RICH FIELD FOR STELLER.—HIS DESCRIPTIONS IMMORTALIZE THE EXPEDITION.—THE SEA-COW.—ITS EXTERMINATION.—NORDENSKJÖLD REFUTED.—PREPARATIONS FOR WINTERING.—SAD DEATH OF BERING.—AN ESTIMATE OF HIS WORK.—CHIRIKOFF'S RETURN.—THE CREW OF THE ST. PETER LEAVE THE ISLAND.—THE GREAT NORTHERN EXPEDITION DISCONTINUED.—BERING'S REPORTS BURIED IN RUSSIAN ARCHIVES.—BERING HONORED BY COOK. The island upon whose shores Bering, after a voyage of four months, was cast, was a high, rocky, and uninviting country. The snowless mountains of Plutonic rock, wild and jagged, arose perpendicularly out of the sea, and deep ravines with seething mountain streams led into the treeless interior.[86] There was snow on only the highest peaks, and on this cold November night the coast appeared to the shipwrecked unfortunates in all its naked and gloomy solitude, and hence great was their surprise on landing to find the island teeming with animal life, yet undisturbed by human habitation. The Commander Islands, as the group is now called, consist of two large islands and a few rocky islets. The most easterly of the former is Copper Island (Mednie), about thirty-five miles long and three miles wide, covered with high, steep, and jagged mountains, which lie athwart the main trend of the island, S. E. to N. W., and terminate precipitously, often perpendicularly, with a narrow strand at the base scarcely fifty feet wide. On a somewhat larger scale, the same description applies to Bering Island, which, according to Steller, is 23½ geographical miles long and nearly 3¼ wide. It is situated about 30 geographical miles from Kamchatka, between latitude 54° 40' and 55° 25' north, and longitude 165° 40' and 166° 40' east of Greenwich. Only on the west coast, within the shelter of the Sea Lion Island (Arii Kamen) and a lesser islet, is there a fairly good harbor, where the Russians later founded the only colony of the island, consisting of a few Aleuts who cultivate some vegetables, but maintain themselves principally by hunting and fishing. For this purpose they have built, here and there on the east coast, some earth-huts which are used only temporarily. The very high mountains, having a trend from N. W. to S. E., almost everywhere extend clear to the sea, and only here and there along the mouths of the brooks do semicircular coves recede from 700 to 1300 yards into the interior. In Bering's day these coves or rookeries contained a fauna entirely unmolested by human greed and love of chase, developed according to nature's own laws, for which reason great scientific interest attaches to the stranding of the St. Peter. Of this animal life Steller gives us in his various works descriptions which are unexcelled in power and fidelity. These have made Bering's second voyage immortal. Naturalists will again and again turn to them. For this reason it would seem that Steller had no ground for complaint that Bering had taken him from his real field of investigation: Kamchatka—a complaint made in our day by O. Peschel—for on Bering Island he first found that field of labor and that material, the description of which has immortalized his name.[87] STELLER'S TRIUMPHAL ARCH. With the exception of the Arctic fox, the higher fauna of these islands were found exclusively among the sea mammals. The most important furred animal at that time was the sea-otter (Enhydra lutris, Linn.), which lived in families on the coast during the whole year, especially, however, in the winter. Its velvety fur brought about 100 rubles on the Chinese border, and hence this animal later became the object of a most eager search. NordenskjÖld says these otters have been driven away, not only from Bering Island, but also from other grounds, where formerly they were slaughtered by the thousand. This statement, however, is not entirely correct. The sea-otter may still be found on Bering Island, and on the adjacent Copper Island (Mednie) it is frequently found, and is protected by just such laws as NordenskjÖld demands for its preservation. The greatest number of marine animals here were found to belong to the family of eared seals (Otariidoe); namely, the sea-lion (Eumetopias Stelleri), from which oil is obtained, and the fur-seal (Callorhinus ursinus), which is still the world's most important fur-bearing animal. Since the close of the last century, the Russian government has with great care sought to protect this animal, and has built up a national enterprise which yields a large annual income, and which makes it possible for the Russo-American company which has a lease of the business, to kill annually about 30,000 seals and still increase the stock. On this point, too, NordenskjÖld's statements are unreliable and misleading. He puts the annual catch much too high, which, at the time, caused no slight trouble between the Russian government and the company.[88] On the whole, it seems humiliating to West Europe that it is only decried and tyrannical Russia that has understood how to protect this useful animal. When Russian America, the present Alaska, in 1867 was sold to the United States, some of the best seal fisheries, the Pribyloff Islands, were a part of the purchase. The United States has found it profitable to retain the Russian regulations for seal hunting, for those small islands alone yield the interest on the sum paid for the whole territory. The eared seals put in their appearance on the Commander Islands in the spring, and are found in the rookeries by the hundreds of thousands until August or September. They proved of the greatest importance for the support of the shipwrecked expedition, and after the sea-otter for a circuit of many miles had been driven away, they furnished a part of the crew's daily means of sustenance. But the most interesting animal on Bering Island was the sea-cow (Rhytina Stelleri),[89] a very large and ponderous animal from eight to ten meters long and weighing about three tons. It was related to the dugong and lamantine of the southern seas, and the manatus which occurs in Florida and along the Gulf coast. Its habitat seems to have been confined to the shores of the Commander Islands, where it was found in great numbers. Its flesh was very excellent food. Later it was eagerly sought after by the Siberian hunter, whose rapacity exterminated the whole species in less than a generation. The last specimen is said to have been killed in 1768, and hence museums have been very unsuccessful in procuring skeletons of the animal. In his "Voyage of the Vega," NordenskjÖld attempts to show that sea-cows were seen much later, even as late as 1854; but as he bases his assumption chiefly on the statements of some Aleutian natives, who, according to what Dr. Leonhard Stejneger recently has proved, confounded the sea-cow with a toothed whale (denticete), there seems to be no reason whatever for modifying the results arrived at by Baer, Brandt, and Middendorff.[90] Without this animal wealth it would have gone hard with Bering's expedition as it did later with the unfortunate La PÉrouse, whose monument has found a place in Petropavlovsk by the side of Bering's. It would have been hopelessly lost on Bering Island. None of the participants would have seen Asia again, none would even have survived the winter 1741-42, for when the St. Peter stranded, there were on board only a few barrels of junk, a small quantity of groats, and some flour. The flour had been lying in leathern sacks for two years, and in the stranding had been saturated with turbid sea water, and hence was very unfit for food. How fatal, therefore, Waxel's and Khitroff's opposition to Bering might have been. It was the night between the 5th and 6th of November that the St. Peter reached this coast. On the 6th the weather was calm and clear, but the crew were kept on board from weakness and work, and only Steller and Pleniser could go ashore with a few of the sick. They immediately betook themselves to examining the country, and walked along the coast on either side. Was this an island, or was it the mainland? Could they expect to find human assistance, and could they reach home by land? After two days of exploration, Steller succeeded in satisfying himself on these points, although it was nearly six months before he definitely ascertained that the place was an island. Unlike Kamchatka, the country was treeless, having only a few trailing willows of the thickness of a finger. The animals of the coast were entirely new and strange, even to him, and showed no fear whatever. They had no sooner left the ship, when they saw sea-otters, which they first supposed to be bears or gluttons. Arctic foxes flocked about them in such numbers that they could strike down three or four score of them in a couple of hours. The most valuable fur-bearing animals stared at them curiously, and along the coast Steller saw with wonderment whole herds of sea-cows grazing on the luxuriant algÆ of the strand. Not only he had never seen this animal before, but even his Kamchatkan Cossack did not know it. From this fact, Steller concluded that the island must be uninhabited. As the trend of Kamchatka was not the same as that of the island, and as the flora was nevertheless identical, and as he moreover found a window frame of Russian workmanship that had been washed ashore, he was convinced that the country must be a hitherto unknown island in the vicinity of Kamchatka. Bering shared this view, but the other officers still clung to their illusions, and when Waxel, on the evening of the 6th, came ashore, he even spoke of sending a message for conveyance. Steller, on the other hand, began to make preparations for the winter. In the sand-banks, near an adjacent mountain stream, he and his companions dug a pit and made a roof of driftwood and articles of clothing. To cover up cracks and crevices on the sides, they piled up the foxes they had killed. He exerted himself to obtain wild fowl, seal-beef, and vegetable nourishment for the sick, who were gradually taken ashore and placed under sail tents upon the beach. Their condition was terrible. Some died on deck as soon as they were removed from the close air of their berths, others in the boat as they were being taken ashore, and still others on the coast itself. All attempts at discipline were abandoned, and those that were well grouped themselves into small companies, according to their own pleasure and agreement. The sick and dying were seen on every hand. Some complained of the cold, others of hunger and thirst, and the majority of them were so afflicted with scurvy that their gums, like a dark brown sponge, grew over and entirely covered the teeth. The dead, before they could be buried, were devoured by foxes, which in countless numbers flocked about, not even fearing to attack the sick. More than a week elapsed before the last of the sick were taken ashore. On November 10, the Commander was removed. He was well protected against the influence of the outer air, and was laid for the night under a tent on the strand. It snowed heavily. Steller passed the evening with him and marveled at his cheerfulness and his singular contentment. They weighed the situation, and discussed the probability of their whereabouts. Bering was no more inclined than Steller to think that they had reached Kamchatka, or that their ship could be saved. The next day he was carried on a stretcher to the sand pits and placed in one of the huts by the side of Steller's. The few that were able to work sought to construct huts for all. Driftwood was collected, pits were dug and roofed, and provisions were brought from the ship. Steller was both cook and physician—the soul of the enterprise. On November 13, the barrack to be used as a hospital was completed, and thither the sick were immediately removed. But still the misery kept increasing. Steller had already given up all hopes of Bering's recovery. Waxel, who had been able to keep up as long as they were on the sea, now hovered between life and death. There was special anxiety on account of his low condition, as he was the only competent seaman that still had any influence, since Khitroff, by his hot and impetuous temper, had incurred the hatred of all. Moreover, those sent to reconnoiter, returned with the news that in a westerly direction they could find no connection with Kamchatka or discover the slightest trace of human habitation. It became stormy; for several days the boat could not venture out, and the ship, their only hope, lay very much exposed near a rocky shore. The anchor was not a very good one, and there was great danger that the vessel would be driven out to sea, or be dashed to pieces on the rocks. The ten or twelve able-bodied men that were left, being obliged to stand in icy water half a day at a time, soon gave way under such burdens. Sickness and want were on every hand. Despair stared them in the face, and not until November 25, when the vessel was driven clear ashore and its keel buried deep in the sand, did their condition seem more secure. They then went quietly to work to prepare for the winter. In December the whole crew was lodged in five underground huts (dug-outs) on the bank of the stream near the place of landing.[91] The ship's provisions were divided in such a way that every man daily received a pound of flour and some groats, until the supply was exhausted. But they had to depend principally upon the chase, and subsisted almost exclusively upon the above mentioned marine animals and a stranded whale. Each hut constituted a family with its own economical affairs, and daily sent out one party to hunt and another to carry wood from the strand. In this way they succeeded in struggling through the winter, which on Bering Island is more characterized by raging snowstorms (poorgas) than severe cold. Meanwhile, death made sad havoc among them. Before they reached Bering Island, their dead numbered twelve, the majority of whom died during the last days of the voyage. During the landing and immediately afterwards nine more were carried away. The next death did not occur until November 22. It was the excellent and worthy mate, the seventy-year-old Andreas Hesselberg, who had plowed the sea for fifty years, and whose advice, had it been heeded, would have saved the expedition. Then came no less than six deaths in rapid succession; and finally in December the Commander and another officer died. The last death occurred January 6, 1742. In all, thirty-one men out of seventy-seven died on this ill-starred expedition. When Bering exerted his last powers to prevent the stranding of the St. Peter, he struggled for life. Before leaving Okhotsk he had contracted a malignant ague, which diminished his powers of resistance, and on the voyage to America scurvy was added to this. His sixty years of age, his heavy build, the trials and tribulations he had experienced, his subdued courage, and his disposition to quiet and inactivity, all tended to aggravate this disease; but he would nevertheless, says Steller, without doubt have recovered if he had gotten back to Avacha, where he could have obtained proper nourishment and enjoyed the comfort of a warm room. In a sandpit on the coast of Bering Island, his condition was hopeless. For blubber, the only medicine at hand, he had an unconquerable loathing. Nor were the frightful sufferings he saw about him, his chagrin caused by the fate of the expedition, and his anxiety for the future of his men, at all calculated to check his disease. From hunger, cold, and grief he slowly pined away. "He was, so to speak, buried alive. The sand kept continually rolling down upon him from the sides of the pit and covered his feet. At first this was removed, but finally he asked that it might remain, as it furnished him with a little of the warmth he so sorely needed. Soon half of his body was under the sand, so that after his death, his comrades had to exhume him to give him a decent burial." He died on the 8th[92] of December, 1741, two hours before daybreak, from inflammation of the bowels. "Sad as his death was," says Steller, "that intrepidity and seriousness with which he prepared to meet death was most worthy of admiration." He thanked God for having been his guide from youth, and for having given him success through life. He sought in every way possible to encourage his companions in misfortune to hopeful activity, and inspire them with faith in Providence and the future. Notwithstanding his conviction that they had been cast upon the shores of an unknown land, he was not disposed to discourage the others by expressing himself on this point. On the 9th of December his body was interred in the vicinity of the huts, between the graves of the second mate and the steward. At the departure from the island there was placed upon his grave a plain wooden cross, which also served to show that the island belonged to the Russian crown. This cross was renewed several times, and in the sixties, so far as is known, twenty-four men erected a monument to his honor in the governor's garden (the old churchyard) in Petropavlovsk, where a monument to the unfortunate La PÉrouse is also found, and where Cook's successor, Captain Clerke, found his last resting place. With Bering that mental power, which had been the life of these great geographical expeditions and driven them forward toward their goal, was gone. We have seen how his plans were conceived; how through long and dreary years he struggled in Siberia to combine and execute plans and purposes which only under the greatest difficulties could be combined and executed; how by his quiet and persistent activity he endeavored to bridge the chasm between means and measures, between ability to do and a will to do,—a condition typical of the Russian society of that time. We have seen how he surmounted the obstacles presented by a far-off and unwilling government, a severe climate, poor assistants, and an inexperienced force of men. We have accompanied him on his last expedition, which seems like the closing scene of a tragedy, and like this ends with the death of the hero. He was torn away in the midst of his activity. Through his enterprise a great continent was scientifically explored, a vast Arctic coast, the longest in the world, was charted, a new route to the western world was found, and the way paved for Russian civilization beyond the Pacific, while enormous sources of wealth—a Siberian Eldorado—were opened on the Aleutian Islands for the fur-hunter and adventurer. Russian authors have compared Bering with Columbus and Cook. He certainly was for Russia, the land of his adoption, what the two former were for Spain and England—a great discoverer, an honest, hardy, and indefatigable pioneer for knowledge, science, and commerce. He led Europe's youngest marine out upon explorations that will ever stand in history as glorious pages, and as living testimony of what Northern perseverance is able to accomplish even with most humble means. And yet he only partly succeeded in accomplishing what for sixteen years had been the object of his endeavors. His voyage to America was merely a reconnoitering expedition, which, in the following summer, was to have been repeated with better equipments. Chirikoff, who on the expedition in 1741, about simultaneously with Bering,[93] discovered a more southerly part of the North American coast, returned to Avacha in such an impaired condition that, in 1742, he could undertake no enterprise of importance.[94] On account of the great misfortunes that overwhelmed the expedition, Laptjef was prevented from completing the charting of Kamchatka. Thus we see that on every side of Bering's grave lay unfinished tasks. These tasks were inherited from the Dano-Russian explorer by his great successor Cook, and other younger navigators. Moreover, his death occurred at an extremely fatal period; for in these same dark December days while Bering was struggling with death in the sandpits of Bering Island, Biron, MÜnnich, and Ostermann lost their supremacy in St. Petersburg. The Old Russian party, the opponents of Peter the Great's efforts at reform, came into power, and during Elizabeth's inert administration, all modern enterprises, the Northern Expedition among them, were allowed to die a natural death. At Avacha and Okhotsk affairs wore a sorrowful aspect. The forces of the expedition had been decimated by sickness and death, their supplies were nearly exhausted, their rigging and sails destroyed by wind and weather, the vessels more or less unseaworthy, and East Siberia drained and devastated by famine; only Bering's great powers of perseverance could have collected the vanishing forces for a last endeavor. On September 23, 1743, an imperial decree put an end to any further undertakings. Meanwhile, the crew of the St. Peter had, in August, 1742, returned to Avacha in a boat made from the timber of the stranded vessel. Chirikoff had previously departed for Okhotsk, to which place also Spangberg returned from his third voyage to Japan. Gradually the forces of the various expeditions gathered in Tomsk, where, first under the supervision of Spangberg and Chirikoff, and later that of Waxel and other officers, they remained until 1745. Thus ended the Great Northern Expedition. But Bering's ill fate pursued him even after death. During the reign of Empress Elizabeth, nothing was done to make known the results of these great and expensive explorations, nor to establish the reputation of the discoverers. The reports of Bering and his co-workers, which make whole cartloads of manuscript, were buried in the archives of the Admiralty. Only now and then did a meager, and usually incorrect, account come to the knowledge of the world. Some of the geographers of that day insisted that the Russian government system of suppression merely aimed at excluding the rest of Europe from that profitable maritime trade through the Arctic seas for which the Northern Expedition had opened the way. Ignorance on this subject was so great that Joseph de l'Isle ventured even before the French Academy to refer to himself as the originator of the expedition,—to rob Bering of his dearly bought honor, and to proclaim to the world that Bering accomplished no more on this expedition than his own shipwreck and death. With Buache he published a book and a map to prove his statements. The name De l'Isle at that time carried with it such weight that he might have succeeded in deceiving the world for a time, if G. F. MÜller had not, in an anonymous pamphlet written in French, disproved these falsehoods. But even MÜller's sketch in Sammlung Russischer Geschichte (1758), the first connected account published concerning these expeditions, has great defects, as we have seen, not only from the standpoint of historical accuracy, but it also shows a lack of appreciation of the geographical results obtained by Bering. Hence it would have been impossible for Cook to render the discoverer long-deferred justice, if he had not known D'Anville's map and Dr. Campbell's essay. Thus it was West Europe that last century rescued Bering's name from oblivion. In our day the Russian Admiralty has had this vast archival material examined and partly published, but much must yet be done before a detailed account can be given of the enterprises we have attempted to sketch, or of the man who was the soul of them all. We hardly feel disposed, with Professor Von Baer, to urge the erection of a monument in St. Petersburg, as a restitution for long forgetfulness, former misjudgment, and lack of appreciation. As Russia's first navigator and first great discoverer, he certainly has merited such a distinction. We shall, however, consider our task accomplished, if we have succeeded in giving in these pages a reliable account of the life and character of a man who deserves to be remembered, not only by that nation which must ever count Vitus Bering among her good and faithful sons, but also by the country that harvested the fruits of his labors. BERING'S MONUMENT IN PETROPAVLOVSK. (FROM WHYMPER.)
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