CHAPTER IV.
BERING'S KNOWLEDGE OF SIBERIAN GEOGRAPHY.—TERRORS OF TRAVELING IN SIBERIA.—THE EXPEDITION STARTS OUT.—THE JOURNEY FROM ST. PETERSBURG TO THE PACIFIC.

And now the question is, what did Bering know of these efforts which had been made during the decades preceding his expedition, and which in spite of their unscientific character, were nevertheless of such great importance in order to be able to initiate one's self in the geography of eastern Asia? In the first place, the surveyor Lushin, was a member of the Bering expedition, and when Bering, in the summer of 1726, was sojourning in Yakutsk, Shestakoff's nephew, who had accompanied his uncle on his expedition against the Chukchees, became an attaché of Bering's expedition, while the elder Shestakoff had gone to Russia to collect means for the contemplated military expedition. Furthermore, Ivan Kosyrefski, who in the meantime had become a monk, was also staying in Yakutsk, and his valuable report preserved in the voivode's (governor's) office was now surrendered to Bering. Thus we see that Bering was in personal contact with the men, who, in the decade preceding, were the chief possessors of geographical knowledge concerning those northeastern regions.

In the second place, he received in Yakutsk information concerning Deshneff's journey in 1648 from the Kolyma to the Anadyr River. Although this journey was first critically discussed by G. F. Müller,[7] its main features were nevertheless well known in Siberia, and are referred to, among other places, in Strahlenberg's book, whence the results appear in Bellini's map in Peter Charlesvoix's "Histoire du Japan," published in 1735. Unfortunately, however, Bering seems to have had no knowledge of Popoff's expedition to the Chukchees peninsula and his information concerning the adjacent American continent, or of Strahlenberg's outline maps, which were not published until after his departure from St. Petersburg.

Bering's two expeditions are unique in the history of Arctic explorations. His real starting point was on the extremest outskirts of the earth, where only the hunter and yassak-collector had preceded him. Kamchatka was at that time just as wild a region as Boothia or the coasts of Smith's Sound are in our day, and, practically viewed, it was far more distant from St. Petersburg than any known point now is from us. One hundred and thirty degrees—several thousand miles—the earth's most inhospitable tracts, the coldest regions on the globe, mountains, endless steppes, impenetrable forests, morasses, and fields of trackless snow were still between him and the mouth of the Kamchatka River, and thither he was to lead, not a small expedition, but an enormous provision train and large quantities of material for ship-building. On the journey, river-boats had to be built by the score, and also two ships. Now his course was up the swift streams of Siberia, and now on horseback or in sledges drawn by dogs through the dreary and desolate forests of the Yakuts and Tunguses. He employed several hundred laborers and twice as many horses to do work which modern ships can accomplish in a few weeks. Franklin, Mackenzie, Schwatka, and many others have traversed vast tracts of the Arctic regions, but their expeditions in light sledges can not be compared with those burdensome transports which Bering and his men dragged from the Gulf of Finland to the shores of the Pacific.

In the early part of the year 1725 the expedition was ready to start out from St. Petersburg. The officers were the two Danes, Vitus Bering, captain and chief, and Martin Spangberg, lieutenant and second in command, and also the following: Lieut. Alexei Chirikoff, Second Lieut. Peter Chaplin, the cartographers Luskin and Patiloff, the mates, Richard Engel and George Morison, Dr. Niemann, and Rev. Ilarion.[8] The subordinates were principally sailors, carpenters, sailmakers, blacksmiths, and other mechanics.

Peter the Great died Jan. 28, 1725;[9] but a part of the expedition under the command of Lieut. Chirikoff had already started on the 24th; Bering followed Feb. 5. They passed the whole of the first summer in toilsome expeditions overland and on rivers in western Siberia. March 16, they arrived at Tobolsk, whence, in May, the journey was continued with four rafts and seven boats by way of the rivers Irtish, Obi, Ket, Yenisei, Tunguska, and Ilim, through regions where there was scarcely a Russian isba, on rivers which were dangerous on account of hidden rocks and skerries, and where progress was constantly interrupted by the transporting that had to be done between the streams. September 29, the expedition arrived at the town of Ilimsk and had to pass the winter there. Meanwhile, however, Lieut. Chaplin had, in the spring, been sent in advance to Yakutsk, in order, at the voivode's (governor's) to hasten the preparations for transportation in the direction of Okhotsk, whither he was to send a small command who were to fell trees and begin the work of ship-building. Bering[10] himself went to Irkutsk to obtain from the governor there information concerning the climate and physical features of Eastern Siberia, the modes of travel, and means of transportation in that distant and little known country. Spangberg was sent with mechanics and soldiers to the Kut, a tributary of the Lena, for the purpose of cutting timber and building vessels for the voyages to be made in the spring. At Ustkutsk there were built in all fifteen barges (about 45 feet long, 12 feet wide and 15 inches deep) and fourteen boats. On May 8, 1726, Spangberg sailed for Yakutsk, and somewhat later Chirikoff started off with the rear. By the middle of June, the expedition was gathered at the capital of East Siberia, which at that time had three hundred houses. Here Bering remained until the 16th of August, busily engaged in making preparations for the difficult journey eastward. He had made two thousand leathern sacks for transporting flour to Okhotsk, and gave the voivode orders to keep in readiness six hundred horses to forward other necessaries for the expedition.

From this point the expedition traveled an entirely untrodden path, and the 1026 versts (685 miles) to Okhotsk were a severe test of its endurance. Even in our day, this journey can be made only under the greatest difficulties. The region is rough and mountainous, and intersected by deep streams without bridges or other means of crossing. The traveler must traverse dangerous swamps and tundras, or cut his way through dense forests. In the winter the difficulties are doubled. Horses, reindeer, and dogs soon become exhausted on these unbroken roads. A space cleared in the snow, when the cooking, eating, and sleeping are done, is the only shelter. The temperature falls to -46° R. (-71° Fahrenheit). Clothing must be changed daily to avoid dampness, and when the poorgas (blizzards) sweep over the snowy wastes, a few steps from camp are often fatal. This is a description of that region in our day, and it was hardly any more inviting over a hundred and fifty years ago.

It was found necessary to divide the expedition. The branching tributaries of the Lena offered possibilities for transportation which had to be taken advantage of. Hence, as early as July 7, Lieut. Spangberg was sent by river with thirteen rafts loaded with materials, and a force of 204 workmen to reach Yudomskaya Krest by way of the tributaries Aldan, Maya, and Yudoma, and thence across a ridge down to the river Urak, which flows into the Sea of Okhotsk. The overland expeditions, consisting of 800 horses, were sent in various directions. Bering himself started out on August 16, with 200 horses, and after a journey of forty-five days, reached Okhotsk. The journey was a very difficult one. The horses sought in vain for food under the deep snow. Scores of them were overcome by hunger and exhaustion. The severe cold caused the forces much suffering and hardship, nor did they find but few comforts when they reached Okhotsk in the latter part of October. The town consisted of only eleven huts, with ten Russian families, who supported themselves by fishing. Here, too, many of the horses died for lack of food, and a herd of heifers sent there by Shestakoff was lost from the same cause. Only one survived the winter. It was now necessary to build huts for the winter. The whole of November was spent in felling trees, and not until December 2, could Bering take shelter under a roof of his own. On the other hand, the ship for the expedition was on the stocks, and in spite of all troubles and privations, Bering found time to push forward vigorously its construction.

Spangberg, however, fared worst of all. Winter took him by surprise two hundred and seventy-five miles from Yudomskaya Krest, the nearest inhabited place, in an entirely barren and swampy region where he could not obtain the slightest assistance. His boats and the bulk of their provisions had to be left at the confluence of the Yorbovaya and the Yudoma, while he and his men, with what provisions they could take with them on the hand-sleds, started out for Okhotsk on foot. Meanwhile, the severity of the winter increased, the mercury congealed, and the snow was soon six feet deep. This forced them to leave their sleds, and for eight full weeks after November 4, these travelers sought shelter every night in the snows of Siberia, wrapped in all the furs they could possibly get hold of. Their provisions were soon exhausted, famine soon became a companion to cold, and matters even came to such a pass that they were compelled to try to maintain life by gnawing "straps, leathern bags, and shoes." They would surely have starved to death, had they not accidentally happened to strike Bering's route, where they found dead horses and a few hundred-weights of flour. December 21, Bering received from Spangberg a message, relating that he had started for Yudomskaya Krest with ninety-six sledges, and that he had left the boats in charge of a mate and six guards. Bering immediately dispatched ten sledges with provisions for his relief, and on the succeeding day, thirty-seven sledges with thirty-nine men. January 6, 1727, Spangberg reached Okhotsk, and a few days later his whole command had arrived, eighteen of whom were now sick. Twice during the course of the winter, Spangberg and Chaplin were obliged to repeat this journey to rescue the materials at the Yudoma. Not until midsummer, 1727, did the rear under the command of Chirikoff arrive from Yakutsk.

And yet Bering was far from the place where his work of discovery could begin. On June 8, the new ship Fortuna was launched and equipped for the prospective voyage. Moreover, the ship that had been used in exploring the Sea of Okhotsk in 1716 arrived, and after thorough repairs was put into the service.

Bering's next objective point was the mouth of the river Bolshoya in southwestern Kamchatka. From the mouth of this river, which is navigable for small vessels, he took the Cossack route to the interior, first up the Bolshoya to the tributary Byistraya, then up this to within forty versts of its source, thence across a portage to the Kamchatka, the mouth of which was his real objective point. From this position he would be able to fall back upon the Russian colony, which comprised a number of unimportant stockaded forts on the Bolshoya and Kamchatka rivers, and could also gain support from that control of the natives which was exercised from this point. This change of base could have been much more easily and quickly accomplished by sailing around the Kamchatka Peninsula, but this was something that had never been done. No accurate information was to be had in regard to the waters, or to the location of any place. Possibly Bering had not as yet been able to disabuse his mind of the prevalent delusions concerning the great extent of Kamchatka. In the second place, he was no doubt unwilling to trust his invaluable stores in the inferior vessels built at Okhotsk. Hence he took the old route.

July 1, Spangberg sailed with the Fortuna for Bolsheretsk, accompanied by thirteen Siberian traders. Two days later Chirikoff brought up the rear from Yakutsk. Somewhat later, the quartermaster arrived with 110 horses and 200 sacks of flour. A week later 63 horses more arrived, on July 20, one soldier with 80 horses, and by the 30th over 150 horses more, and also 50 oxen.

August 11, Spangberg returned from his voyage to the Bolshoya River, and on the 19th the whole command went on board,—some on the Fortuna and others on the old vessel. Their destination was the Bolshoya, situated 650 miles from Okhotsk, where they arrived September 4. Here the cargoes were transferred to boats and, in the course of the month of September, brought to the fort, a simple log fortress with seventeen Russian dwellings and a chapel, twenty miles from the sea. It took the whole winter to traverse, first with boats and later with sledges, the 585 miles across Kamchatka, from Bolsheretsk to the lower Kamchatka fort. Under the greatest difficulties, the expedition now followed the course of the Kamchatka River, camping at night in the snow, and enduring many a fierce struggle with the inclement weather. The natives were summoned from far and near to assist in transporting their goods, but the undertaking proved fatal to many of them. Finally on March 11, 1728, Bering reached his destination, the lower Kamchatka Ostrog,[11] where he found forty huts scattered along the banks of the river, a fort, and a church. A handful of Cossacks lived here. They occupied huts built above the surface of the ground. They did not always eat their fish raw, but in other respects lived like the natives, and were in no regard much more civilized than they. The fort was located twenty miles from the sea, surrounded by forests of larch, which yielded excellent material for ship-building. From this point the exploring party proper was to start out.[12]

CHAPTER V.
THE BUILDING OF THE GABRIEL—THE DISCOVERY OF BERING STRAIT.

Bering now found himself upon the bleak shores of an Arctic sea, with no other resources than those he had brought with him, or could extort from these barren tracts. He again began the work of ship-building, and in the summer of 1728, a ship called the Gabriel, staunch enough to weather a heavy sea, was launched. The timber for this vessel had been hauled to the ship-yard by dogs; the tar they had prepared themselves, while rigging, cable, and anchors had been dragged nearly two thousand miles through one of the most desolate regions of the earth. And as for the provisions, they would certainly strike terror in the hearts of Arctic explorers of to-day. "Fish oil was his butter, and dried fish his beef and pork. Salt he was obliged to get from the sea," and according to the directions of the Cossacks he distilled spirits from "sweet straw."[13] Thus supplied with a year's provisions, he started upon his voyage of discovery along an unknown coast and on an unknown sea. "It is certain," says Dr. Campbell concerning Bering at this stage, "that no person better fitted for this undertaking could have been found; no difficulty, no danger daunted him. With untiring industry and almost incredible patience he overcame those difficulties which to anyone else would have seemed insurmountable."

On July 9, the Gabriel started down the river, and on the 13th the sails were hoisted. The crew numbered forty-four men: namely, one captain, two lieutenants, one second lieutenant, one physician, one quartermaster, eight sailors, one saddler, one rope-maker, five carpenters, one bailiff, two Cossacks, nine soldiers, six servants, one drummer, and two interpreters. Bering's point of departure was the lower Kamchatka fort, situated 160° 50' east of Greenwich, the variation of the compass being 13° 10' E. The latitude of the cape at the mouth of the Kamchatka River was determined as 56° 3' N., which agrees with the observations made by Cook, who was very near this point on his last voyage. The day was reckoned from 12 o'clock at noon, on which account his dating does not correspond with that of civil time; hence, the 16th of August with him began on the 15th, at noon. The mile of the journal is the Italian mile, which is somewhat longer than the English mile. Bering's course was nearly all the time along the coast, in from nine to twelve fathoms of water, and usually with land in sight to the north and west. On July 27, they passed Cape St. Thaddeus at a distance of three miles, and here the sea seemed fairly alive with spotted whales, seals, sea-lions, and dolphins. After having sailed past the Anadyr River, without quite being able to find their bearings in regions of which they had not a single astronomical determination, and where they were not successful in finding any natives, they finally, on July 31, saw land extending along the northern horizon, and soon afterwards sailed into the Bay of the Holy Cross (St. Kresta Bay) where the Gabriel spent two days under sail in search of fresh water and a place to anchor. On the 2d of August the latitude was determined as 60° 50' N., whereupon the voyage was continued to the southeast along the high and rocky coast, where every indentation was very carefully explored. August 6, the Gabriel lay in the Bay of Preobrashensky, and on the 7th, Chaplin was sent ashore to obtain water from a mountain stream. On his way he found huts, where there had quite recently been Chukchees, and in various places he found footpaths, but met no human beings. On the 8th, Bering sailed along the coast in a south southeasterly direction. At 7 o'clock, a boat containing eight men was seen rowing toward the vessel. They did not, however, dare to approach the Gabriel, but at last one of the number jumped into the water, and on two inflated seal bladders swam out to the ship, and announced, by the aid of the two Koriak interpreters, that they were Chukchees, and that their people lived along the coast, that they knew the Russians well, that the Anadyr River lay far to the west, that the continent extended in the same direction, and that they would soon get sight of an island. The Koriaks, however, understood his language only imperfectly, and the journal regrets that they were on this account prevented from obtaining further important information. Bering gave him some small presents and sent him back to try to persuade his companions to come on board. They approached the vessel, but suddenly turned and disappeared. The latitude was 64° 41'.

August 9, Cape Chukotskoi was doubled, an important event in the history of this expedition,—an event which Müller, in order to make results fit into his frame, has not even mentioned. The name, it is true, is not found in the journal, but it appears on Bering's chart in Du Halde's work, which Müller knew. Bering determined the southern extremity of the cape to be 64° 18', Cook 64° 13'.

August 11, the weather was calm and cloudy. At 2 o'clock in the afternoon, they saw an island toward the southeast, which Bering, in honor of the day, called St. Lawrence. At noon the latitude was found to be 64° 20', and hence the Gabriel was in the strait between Asia and America.

August 12, there was a light breeze and cloudy weather. On this day they sailed sixty-nine miles, but the difference in latitude was only 29'. At sunset the longitude was computed by the aid of the variation of the needle to be 25° 31' east of the lower Kamchatka fort, or 187° 21' east of Greenwich.

August 13, a fresh breeze and cloudy. Bering sailed during the whole day with land in sight, and the difference in latitude was only 78'.

August 14, weather calm and cloudy. They sailed 29 miles + 8¾ miles for the current. The course of the current was from south southeast to north northwest. At noon the latitude was 66° 41' when they saw high land astern, and three hours later high mountains. (East Cape is 66° 6' N. lat. and 190° 21' east of Greenwich.)

August 15, gentle wind, cloudy weather. From noon until 3 o'clock Bering sailed to the northeast, and after having sailed seven miles in this direction, he determined to turn back. At 3 o'clock he announced, that as he had now accomplished his task, it was his duty, according to his orders, to return. His bearings were then 67° 18' N. latitude, and 30° 19' east of the Kamchatka fort, or 193° 7' east of Greenwich. In Du Halde, where Bering himself gives his reasons, it is stated: "This was Captain Bering's most northerly point. He thought that he had accomplished his task and obeyed orders, especially as he no longer could see the coast extending toward the north in the same way. ("Surtout, parcequ'il ne voyait plus que les terres continuassent de courier de même du côté du Nord.") Moreover, if they should go farther, he feared, in case they should have adverse winds that they might not be able to return to Kamchatka before the end of the summer, and how were they to be able to pass the winter in such a climate, liable to fall into the hands of a people who had not yet been subjugated, and who were human only in outward appearance.[14]

When Bering turned about, his command was to steer south by west, half west. In this course they sailed with the wind at a rate of more than seven miles an hour. At 9 o'clock in the morning, they saw a high mountain on the right, where Chukchees lived, and to the left and seaward they saw an island, which in honor of the day they called Diomede.[15] This day they sailed 115 miles, and reached latitude 66° 2'.

On August 17, Bering again passed the narrowest part of the strait. The weather was cloudy, there was a fresh breeze, and they sailed along the Asiatic coast, where they saw many Chukchees, and at two places they saw dwellings. The natives fled at the sight of the ship. At 3 o'clock very high land and mountains were passed. With a very good breeze, they had been enabled to sail 164 miles, and an observation showed that they were in latitude 64° 27'. According to this, Bering was out of the strait and getting farther and farther away from the American continent.

August 18, the wind was light and the weather clear. On the 20th, beyond the Island of St. Lawrence, he met other Chukchees, who told him that they had made journeys from the Kolyma River westward to Olenek, but that they never went by sea. They knew of the Anadyr fort which lay farther to the south; on this coast there dwelt people of their race; others they did not know.

After a storm on the 31st of August, in which the main and foresail were rent, the anchor cable was broken and the anchor lost, they reached the mouth of the Kamchatka at 5 o'clock P. M., September 2, 1728.

CHAPTER VI.
THE TASK ASSIGNED BY PETER THE GREAT ACCOMPLISHED.—HISTORY OF THE CARTOGRAPHY OF EAST SIBERIA.—CAPTAIN COOK'S DEFENSE OF BERING.

Bering turned back because he felt convinced that he had sailed around the northeastern corner of Asia, and had demonstrated that in this part of the earth the two great continents were not connected. The third point in his orders was of course dropped, for along the Siberian coasts of the Arctic sea, he could expect to find neither European colonists nor ships; hence, further search with this object in view would be vain. He had a very clear idea of the general outline of eastern Asia, and this knowledge was based upon the facts of his own voyage, the information he had obtained in Yakutsk about Deshneff's expedition from Kolyma to Anadyr, and upon the account which the natives gave of the country and of their commercial journeys westward to Olenek.

He was, moreover, convinced that he had given the search for a Northeast passage a rational foundation, and his thoughts on this subject are found clearly presented in a correspondence from St. Petersburg to a Copenhagen periodical, Nye Tidende, in 1730, whence the following: "Bering has ascertained that there really does exist a Northeast passage, and that from the Lena River it is possible, provided one is not prevented by polar ice, to sail to Kamchatka, and thence to Japan, China, and the East Indies." This correspondence, which appeared immediately after his return on the first of March, 1730, originated either with him or with some of his immediate friends, and shows that he fully appreciated the extent of his discovery.[16] It was this conviction that led him to undertake his next great enterprise, the navigating and charting of the Northeast passage from the Obi River to Japan,—from the known West to the known East.

Unfortunately, however, the principal result of his work remains as above stated. An unhappy fate prevented him from discovering the adjacent American continent. At the narrowest place, Bering Strait is 39 miles wide; and hence, under favorable conditions, it is possible to see simultaneously the coast-lines of both continents.[17] Cook, more fortunate than Bering, was enabled to do this, for when he approached the strait, the sun dispersed the fog, and at one glance both continents were seen. With Bering it was otherwise, for, as we have seen from his journal, the weather during the whole time that he was in the strait, both on the voyage up and back, was dark and cloudy. Not until the 18th of August did the weather clear up, but as the Gabriel was sailing before a sharp breeze, he was then too far away to see land on the other side. "This," Von Baer exclaims, "must be called bad luck."

We may possibly feel inclined to blame Bering for his haste. Why did he not cruise about in the region of 65° to 67° north latitude? A few hours' sailing would have brought him to the American coast. This objection may, however, prove to be illegitimate. The geographical explorer, as well as every other investigator, has a right to be judged from the standpoint of his times, and on the basis of his own premises. Bering had no apprehension of an adjacent continent, partly on account of the Koriak interpreter's imperfect knowledge of the Chukchee tongue, partly as a result of the fact that the knowledge of the times concerning the western coast of America was very meager. This knowledge extended no farther than to 43° north latitude,—to Cape Blanco in California; hence, in the nature of things, he could not be expected to search for land which presumably he knew nothing of. But here we must also take into consideration his poor equipment. His cables, ropes, and sails were in such bad condition, after the three years' transport through Siberia, that he could not weather a storm, and his stock of provisions was running so low that it put an unpleasant check on any inclination to overreach his main object, and this, as we have seen, did not include the exploration of an American coast, if separated from Asia. To explore a new coast thirteen degrees of latitude and thirty degrees of longitude in extent, and make such a chart of it that its outline is comparatively correct, and which, for a long time, was far superior to anything made afterward,[18] ought certainly to be considered a splendid result, when we remember that the objects of the expedition were entirely of a nautico-geographical character. Bering's determinations of longitude in East Siberia were the first made there, and through them it was ascertained that the country extended thirty degrees farther toward the east than was supposed. His observations were based on two eclipses of the moon in Kamchatka in the years 1728 and 1729,[19] and although they were not entirely accurate, they vary so little, that the general position of the country was established. And hence we are not surprised to find that no one has given Bering a better testimonial than his great and more fortunate successor, Captain Cook. He says:[20] "In justice to the memory of Bering, I must say, that he has delineated the coast very well, and fixed the latitude and longitude of the points better than could be expected from the methods he had to go by." Yes, Captain Cook found it necessary to defend Bering against the only official report of the expedition which at that time had appeared, and more than once he puts in proper relief Bering's sober investigations, as compared with Müller's fancies and guesses. Before the time of Cook, it had been customary to depreciate Bering's work;[21] but since that time Admiral Lütke, a hundred years after Bering's death, has defended his reputation, and Berch, who very carefully perused his journals, repeatedly expresses his admiration for the accuracy with which the nautical computations were made. This statement is made after a comparison of results with those obtained by Captain Cook.

Furthermore, as has already been said, Bering was not aware of the fact that he was sailing in a comparatively narrow sound,—in that strait which has carried his name to posterity. He saw nothing beyond the nearest of the Diomede Islands, that is to say, the middle of the strait; and this island, as we have seen, is mentioned in the journal and on the chart, with the latitude correctly given.[22] His name was not immediately associated with these regions. The first place, so far as I am able to ascertain, that the name Bering Strait appears, is on a map which accompanies Rob. de Vangondie's "Mémoire sur les pays de l'Asie," Paris, 1774. But it is especially to Captain Cook's high-mindedness that the name was retained, for it was used in his great work. Later, Reinholdt Forster, who characterizes Bering as "a meritorious and truly great navigator," triumphantly fought his cause against Büsching and others.[23]

But even at the present time, an interesting misunderstanding attaches to this part of Bering's history and the cartography of these regions. In our Arctic literature and on all our polar maps, it is asserted that Vitus Bering, on his first voyage, turned back at Cape Serdze Kamen. That such a supposition has been able to maintain itself, only shows how little the original sources of his history are known in West Europe, and how unheeded they have been in Russia. About a hundred years ago the Danish Admiral De Löwenörn and the English hydrographer A. Dalrymple showed that Frobisher Strait had by some ignorant hand been located on the east coast of Greenland, while it was in reality located on the coast of Meta incognita beyond Davis Strait.[24] A similar error presents itself in connection with Serdze Kamen. It can be historically established that this name has been the object of a double change, and that the present Serdze Kamen on the northern coast of the Chukchee peninsula, has nothing whatever to do with the history of Bering and his voyage. This misunderstanding is, however, not of recent date, for as early as in the first decade after the voyage, it was assumed that Bering's course, even after he had passed East Cape, was along the coast. Thus I find on a map by Hazius in Nuremberg, 1738,[25] and other maps of about the same time, based on Bering's map as given by Du Halde, that the Gabriel's turning point is marked by a star near the coast with the same latitude as the present Serdze Kamen, with the following explanation: "Terminus litorum a Navarcho Beerings recognitorum." This supposition gradually gained ground in West Europe as well as in Russia, especially so, too, as Bering's new expedition and consequent death prevented him from correcting the error, and as there for a generation was nothing more known of the voyage than the resumé which appears in Du Halde's work. Moreover, the manner in which the coast-line in Bering's original map is extended beyond East Cape, has only served to strengthen the opinion. The fact is that Serdze Kamen was a name unknown to Bering. It is found neither on his map, in his own account, nor in the ship's journal, and could not be so found for a very obvious reason—Bering had never been there.

After having passed East Cape on the 14th of August, he no longer sailed along the coast. On that day at noon they still saw land astern, and three hours later, high mountains, but during the succeeding forty-eight hours land was seen neither to the east nor the west.

As we have seen, the journal gives the turning point as 4° 44' east of Cape Chukotskoi, and Dr. Campbell gives another series of astronomical determinations, sent by Bering from Kamchatka to the Senate in St. Petersburg, and these show in a striking way that the turning point was east of the northeastern corner of Asia.

According to these:[26]

The Island of St. Lawrence is 64° north latitude and 122° 55' east of Tobolsk.

The Island of Diomede is 66° north latitude and 125° 42' east of Tobolsk.

The turning point, 67° 18' north latitude and 126° 7' east of Tobolsk.

Hence, Serdze Kamen (67° 3' north latitude and 188° 11' east of Greenwich), as Berch[27] expressly remarks, must have lain more than four degrees west of the turning point. That this must have been so appears also from the course of the vessel on its return, west southwest, which would have been impossible, if the Gabriel had been near the north coast, intending to return through the strait. Among recent writers, Von Baer[28] alone critically calls attention to these facts, without, however, thoroughly investigating the case. This I shall now attempt to do.

The name Serdze Kamen appears for the first time—historically speaking—in Gerhard Fr. Müller's Sammlung Russischer Geschichte, Vol. III., 1758.[29] He says: "Bering finally, in a latitude of 67° 18', reached a headland whence the coast recedes to the west. From this the captain drew the very plausible conclusion that he now had reached the most northeasterly point of Asia. But here we are forced to admit that the circumstance upon which the captain based his conclusion was false, as it has since been learned that the above-mentioned headland was identical with the one called Serdze Kamen by the inhabitants of Fort Anadyr, on account of the promontory being heart-shaped." Even this looks suspicious. The account of some ignorant Cossacks is presented as a corrective to the report of educated navigators, and it is also indicated that the garrison at Fort Anadyr had exact knowledge of the northern coast of the Chukchee peninsula, something it did not have at all.[30]

But in order to understand Müller, it is necessary to make a slight digression. When Bering, in the summer of 1729, was on his return to St. Petersburg, he met, between Okhotsk and Yakutsk, the Cossack chief Shestakoff, who by the aid of Bering's ships intended to undertake an extensive military expedition in the eastern seas. He soon fell, however, in an engagement, but his comrade Captain Pavlutski led an invasion into the land of the Chukchees. From Fort Anadyr he went northward to the Arctic Ocean, thence along the coast toward the east, then across the Chukchee peninsula to the Pacific. A more detailed account than this cannot be given, for his route as indicated on Müller's map is an impossible one. This much, however, seems to be irrefutable: shortly after having crossed the Chukchee peninsula in a southerly direction, he came to a sea, and this sea could be no other than Bering Sea.[31] Moreover, it appears from the account, that he was on his return to the fort. Müller goes on to say: "From here he sent a part of his men in boats, whither he himself with the majority of the party proceeded by land, following the shore, which at this place extended toward the southeast. Those in boats were so near the shore that they reported to him every evening. On the seventh day, the party in boats came to the mouth of a river, and twelve days later, to the mouth of another. At about seven miles from this point there extends eastward far into the sea a headland, which is first mountainous, but then flat, as far as the eye can reach. This headland is probably what induced Captain Bering to turn back. Among the mountains on this promontory there is one which, as already noted, is by the natives of Anadyrskoi Ostrog called Serdze Kamen. From here Pavlutski started for the interior." On this loose reasoning rests Serdze Kamen,—a process of reasoning which attempts to show clearly that this headland must be a point on the Pacific coast, and that it must have lain many days' journey west of Bering Strait. But how is it possible, that Müller could have been so confused as to make such strange blunders? The case could not thus have presented itself to him. On the basis of Deshneff's journey and Pavlutski's cruise, he formed in his imagination a picture of northeastern Siberia, in which the Chukchee peninsula assumed a double horned shape, or—as Von Baer expresses it—resembled a bull's horn.

He used Bering's chart as a foundation when he had no other, but he omitted Cape Chukotskoi, and on the 66th parallel he inserted Serdze Kamen. From this point he made the coast recede, first westward, then northward and eastward to a large circular peninsula situated between 72°-75° north latitude, which he called Chukotskoi Noss. It is this imaginary peninsula which Pavlutski crosses. He accordingly reaches the Pacific coast to the north of Bering Strait, and in this way Müller succeeds in locating Serdze Kamen north of the strait. Hence, according to Müller's opinion, Bering had never doubled the northeastern corner of Asia, and he had never been out of the Pacific. "And although the coast beyond Serdze Kamen," he says, "turns westward, it forms only a large bay, and the coast-line again takes a northerly direction to Chukotskoi Noss, a large peninsula in a latitude of 70° or more, and where it would first be possible to say authoritatively that the two hemispheres were not connected. But how could all this have been known on the ship? The correct idea of the shape of the land of the Chukchees and the peninsula bearing the same name, is due to geographical investigations instituted by me at Yakutsk in 1736 and 1737."

Blinded by the archival dust of Yakutsk, Müller confused everything. Cape Chukotskoi, which Bering had found to be in latitude 64° 18' N., was placed beyond 72° N.; Bering's most northerly point, which lay far out in the sea, was changed to a headland in latitude 66° N., and, misled by some vague reports from the garrison at Fort Anadyr, he called this point Serdze Kamen. Everything is guess-work!

But where did Müller get his Serdze Kamen, and what place was it that the garrison at Fort Anadyr called by this name? For of the extreme northeast part of the peninsula, or the details of Bering's voyage—especially as early as in 1730—they could have had no knowledge. The explanation is not difficult. On Russian maps of the last century, those of Pallas and Billings, for example,[32] there is found on the eastern shore of St. Kresta Bay, somewhat northeast of the mouth of the Anadyr, a cape which bears the name of Serdze Kamen. As Bering does not have this name, and as it seems to have been known as early as at the time of Pavlutski, it must have originated either with him and the Cossacks at the fort, or with the Chukchees. Sauer relates the following concerning the origin of the name: "Serdze Kamen is a very remarkable mountain projecting into the bay at Anadyr. The land side of this mountain has many caves, to which the Chukchees fled when Pavlutski attacked them, and from where they killed a large number of Russians as they passed. Pavlutski was consequently obliged to seek reinforcements at Anadyr, where he told that the Chukchees shot his men from the heart of the cliff, and hence it received the name of Serdze Kamen, or the heart-cliff." But this account, which finds no authority whatever in Sauer's work, is severely criticised by Lütke, who calls attention to the fact that the Chukchees called a mountain on the eastern shore of the St. Kresta Bay Linglin Gaï, that is, the heart-cliff. It is quite improbable that they got this name from the Cossacks in Anadyrsk, and hence we here undoubtedly have the origin of the name.[33]

In Steller's various works one can see what confused ideas concerning Bering's first expedition the academists who wrote his history really had. They succeeded in bringing confusion into the simplest questions, and, as a result, wrecked his reputation. In Steller's description of Kamchatka, where he enumerates the headlands of the peninsula, a remarkable statement is found, which offers excellent proof of the correctness of Lütke's opinion.[34] The situation of Serdze Kamen between East Cape and the mouth of the Anadyr is here distinctly given. Hence, according to his opinion, Bering reached no farther than to St. Kresta Bay, and the sarcastic remarks plainly show Steller's partisan view.[35] Müller was not so rash. When he moved Cape Chukotskoi half a dozen degrees farther to the north, he moved Serdze Kamen also, and carried it from St. Kresta Bay up into Bering Strait.

In this cool move he was fortunate enough to get into a closer agreement with Bering's determination of latitude, but unfortunately hit upon new difficulties. His own map is based upon Bering's, as he had no other, but Bering's voyage did not, as is well known, end at any headland. Neither his chart nor his journal supports any such theory, and hence Müller, either accidentally or purposely, does not in his book have a word about the voyage from the 10th to the 15th of August, and on his map (1758) Bering's "track" is broken off near East Cape. This headland is Müller's Serdze Kamen,[36] a fact of which even a very cursory glance at Müller's and Bering's maps will convince any one. But even Bering had located the northeastern corner of Asia (East Cape) a few minutes too far northward, and in order to make the map coincide with his theory and with Bering's computations, Müller made the error greater, without, however, fixing it at Bering's turning-point, but at 67° 18' N. lat., where, according to Bering's and his own account, it ought to be.

Thus matters stood up to the time of Cook's third voyage. But as Cook had on board, not only Müller's book and map in an English translation, but also Bering's map, and an excellent treatise by Dr. Campbell in Harris's Collection of Voyages, he could pass judgment while at the place in question. As a matter of course he upholds Bering. Hence, it was a natural result that Serdze Kamen, which, as we have seen, was to coincide with the most northerly point reached by Bering, could no longer retain its position in the latitude of East Cape, which was more than a degree too far south; and in order to make Müller's account intelligible, Captain Cook had the choice between entirely expunging the name, or bringing it up to an approximately correct latitude. Cook chose the latter; and to this mistake on his part it is due that the last splinter of Müller's vain structure passed into the cartography of the future. In latitude 67° 3' N., Cook found a projecting promontory with many crags and peaks, and "possibly one or another of them may be heart-shaped. This peak we have, on Müller's authority, called Serdze Kamen."[37]

Here then we have the third Serdze Kamen, and we can now see how it has wandered about the northeast corner of Asia. As a matter of fact, it is situated in a latitude nearly the same as the most northerly point reached by Bering, but unfortunately this does not at all answer Müller's description. It does not project eastward into the sea, but on the contrary, its main direction is toward the northwest. At the base of this headland, the coast does not in a striking manner extend toward the west, but continues in its former direction. Nor does it consist of steep rocks and a low point extending farther than the eye can reach. In other words, the present Serdze Kamen has nothing whatever to do either with Bering's voyage or Müller's description.[38]

To this period of Bering's history another observation must be made. In his excellent treatise entitled, "What Geography owes to Peter the Great," Von Baer tries to show that Bering turned back in his course, not on the 15th, but on the 16th of August, and that too, notwithstanding the fact that both Bering and Müller, in print, give the former date,—yes, notwithstanding the fact that Von Baer himself had an autograph card from Bering which likewise gives the 15th. In his criticism on this point, Von Baer based his statements on those extracts of the ship's journal referred to above, which as we have seen give the 16th of August, and this, in his opinion, must be decisive. But the disagreement in these sources is only an apparent one. As we already have noted, Bering reckoned the day from 12 o'clock at noon. Hence the journal's 16th of August began at noon on the 15th of August, and as Bering turned back at 3 o'clock in the afternoon, this occurred on the 15th of August according to the calendar, and on the 16th of August according to the artificial day of the journal. Thus Von Baer's correction is based on a misunderstanding.[39] That this view of the question is correct is seen also from that passage in the journal where the Island of St. Lawrence is mentioned. According to the journal this island was passed at 2 o'clock P.M. on the 11th of August, and Berch, to whom we are indebted for information concerning Bering's day, is, strange to say, surprised to think that Bering named the island in honor of the saint of the preceding day, notwithstanding that the 11th at 2 o'clock P. M. is in reality, according to the calendar day, the 10th of August, St. Lawrence Day. The first twelve hours of the journal's day belong to the preceding day. Hence, Bering turned back August 15, at 3 o'clock P. M.