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]

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 (Otariidœ); 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.

APPENDIX.

APPENDIX.

BERING'S REPORT TO THE ADMIRALTY FROM OKHOTSK, DEC. 5, 1737.[95]

From the instructions forwarded to me by His Imperial Highness, I learn that the Imperial College of Admiralty is inclined to the opinion that the expedition is lingering along idly on account of my heedlessness. This arouses in me no little anxiety for fear that I may incur undeserved wrath; yet in this matter I await the will of his Imperial Highness and the most gracious resolution of the Imperial College. For although, from the time the expedition was put in my charge until the present time, I have faithfully and diligently sought as quickly as possible to build vessels, put out to sea, and begin the execution of my work proper, everything has suffered delay on account of unexpected obstacles over which I have had no control. Prior to our arrival in Yakutsk, not a single pood of provisions had been sent to Okhotsk for the crew there, not a single vessel had been built for transporting these provisions and supplies, and not a single magazine had been built at the stopping places on the Maya and Yudoma rivers. No laborers were to be had, and no arrangements whatsoever had been made by the Siberian government officials, notwithstanding the fact that an imperial ukase had ordered these things. We have done all this. We built transports, demanded laborers from Yakutsk, and with great difficulty brought our provisions in these transports to Yudomskaya Krest,—yes, with superhuman efforts our command and these laborers—since even upon my demand but very few were sent—also brought the supplies at Yudomskaya Krest (12,000 poods of flour and rice) to Okhotsk. Moreover, at the stopping place on the Maya, at the mouth of the Yudoma, at the Cross, and on the Urak, we erected magazines and dwellings for the forces, and also built four winter-huts between Yudomskaya Krest and Urak as places of refuge during the winter. Furthermore, in accordance with our plans, we built, in 1736, at the stopping place on the Urak, fifteen, and during this year, 1737, sixty-five vessels on which to float the provisions down the Urak. Of these, forty-two are still at the place of construction, the remaining thirty-seven having departed with provisions in 1735. All of this has been done under my orders, not by the government officials of Siberia.

In Yakutsk, where I was at that time staying, we built two vessels, the boat Irkutsk and the sloop Yakutsk, and in 1735 sent them out on the expeditions assigned to them. We took pains to provision them well, and furthermore sent four barges to the mouth of the Lena with additional provisions for them. In 1736 the Yakutsk had the misfortune to lose its chief, Lieut. Lassenius, and many of the crew. Others were hopelessly ill, and hence, as I feared that the work assigned to this expedition would not be accomplished, I was obliged to man the vessel anew from Yakutsk. The sick were taken to Yakutsk to be nursed. I did all that was possible for them, and by the help of God they were saved. For these same two ships I sent, in 1736, from the provisions of my command, two lighters with provisions, and during the present year, 1737, I have likewise sent a boat to the mouth of the Lena, as the provisions sent in 1735 were nearly exhausted. But from the voivode in Yakutsk we received no support whatever. From this it is evident that my stay in Yakutsk was necessarily prolonged. Nor was it possible for me to go to Okhotsk with my men until I had sent some provisions ahead. Otherwise I should have taken the risk of starving them to death, putting an end to all hopes of accomplishing anything, and thus incurring a heavy responsibility. Some of my men remained in Yakutsk in charge of the affairs of the expedition there, and to forward provisions. Others remained at the Maya harbor, Yudomskaya Krest, and at the Urak landing, to guard the magazines and attend to the transportation of necessaries to Okhotsk, for it is not yet possible to feed so many at Okhotsk. The fact that the voivode in Yakutsk made such long delay in appointing commissioners to receive and send me supplies, prevented me from keeping my men together and availing myself of their assistance. As early as June 2, 1735, I demanded the appointment of three commissioners and such assistants as I thought necessary, to be stationed along the route. The authorities at Yakutsk did not comply until the present year, 1737, and then only after repeated demands on my part. But if I had neglected to attend to these matters, and had hastened the departure to Okhotsk, the voivode—in my absence—would have done nothing, and it remains to be seen how the transportation to Yudomskaya Krest will be attended to. * * * As the difficulties with which we have had to contend are very obvious, and although as a consequence the immediate starting out of the expedition is improbable, I can, nevertheless, conscientiously say that I do not see how I could have in a greater degree hastened the work of the expedition, or how I could have intensified the zeal with which I have worked from the very beginning. Through this report I therefore most humbly seek at the hands of the Admiralty a considerate judgment, and hope that it will show that matters have not been delayed through my carelessness.

It is on account of these obstacles, together with the fact that there was much work to be done in Okhotsk, that I have been unable to prepare, in a short time, the ships necessary for the voyage. My command has had to work at Spangberg's ships, which are now ready. But also in Okhotsk, on the "Cat" (Koschka), where these vessels and packet-boats are being built, everything was bare and desolate. There was not a building there,—nowhere to stay. Trees and grass do not grow there, and are not found in the vicinity on account of the gravel. In spite of the fact that the region is so barren, it is nevertheless very well suited for ship-building. It is a good place for launching, for starting out, and as a harbor of refuge for these ships. There is, in fact, no better place on this coast. Hence, according to Spangberg's directions, a house was built on the "Cat" for the officers, and barracks and huts for the men. For these buildings our men hauled the clay, made the tiles, brought wood from a distance of three to four miles, and carried fresh water from a distance of about two miles; for although the Koschka is situated at the mouth of the Okhota, the water in the river is very salty on account of the tide-water. Moreover, we have built storehouses and a powder magazine. I enclose three diagrams, showing what has been done in the years 1735, 1736, and 1737. My men in Okhotsk are now preparing ship-biscuits for the voyages, and are floating the necessary timber for the boats twenty miles down the river. They burn the charcoal used in forging, and the necessary pitch must be prepared and brought from Kamchatka, as there is no pitch-pine in the vicinity of Okhotsk.

In addition to this we are obliged to make our own dog-sledges, and on these bring our provisions from Yudomskaya Krest to the Urak landing. There is, too, much other work in Okhotsk that must be done in preference to ship-building, for it is quite impossible to get anything in the way of food except the legal military provisions, consisting of flour and groats. I must state, in this connection, that in the summer some cattle are sent with the transports from Yakutsk. These are obtained at the regular price and are distributed among the crews; but on account of the great distance, and the reluctance of the Yakuts to sell to others than the yassak collectors, except when in great need, the supply has been limited.

Notwithstanding the fact that the authorities at Okhotsk were directed to prepare fish for the expedition, I found that nothing whatever had been done in this regard; but, on the contrary, they monopolized the supplies of the Tunguses, who furnished my first expedition with an abundance of fish, and upon whom I had depended. For this reason we are forced to give the men leave of absence in the summer, so that they may obtain food by fishing, thus causing a loss of time and neglect of the work of the expedition. Our force might be divided into different parties, for ship-building, fishing, and miscellaneous work, but we have not found it expedient to do this. Especially on account of the fact that many have been assigned to the work of transportation, there are not as many engaged in ship-building as necessary, or as was ordered by the Imperial College of Admiralty. Lack of sufficient provisions has prevented this. Here in Okhotsk we have but a small number of laborers. The rest, for whom there will be no provisions until in the spring, we have sent to Yudomskaya Krest to bring provisions and other necessary supplies on dog-sledges to the Urak landing, and to construct at this place twenty new barges for use in the spring of 1738. New barges must be built every year, for those that are floated down the Urak can not be returned on account of the swiftness of the current. They are, however, used for other purposes in Okhotsk. It takes four men ten days to build a barge, and four or five to man one. I most respectfully ask the Imperial College of Admiralty to consider the number of men employed at this work, and what they are accomplishing. All of this, too, is being done by my forces. From the government officer in Okhotsk, Skornjakoff-Pissarjeff, we have not, since the day of our arrival here up to the present time, received the slightest assistance in transportation, ship-building, or anything else whatsoever. Nor have we any hope of obtaining any such assistance in the future. And even if we should demand support from him, we would only have long and fruitless negotiations with him, for while in Yakutsk, he sent me a written notification (February 28, 1737), refusing to assist in the transportation from Yudomskaya Krest to Okhotsk.

In addition to the facts here adduced, together with my earlier reports to the Imperial College of Admiralty, wherein I have given an account of my efforts for the progress of the enterprise and shown the impossibility of an early consummation of the main object of my expedition, I appeal to the testimony of all the officers of my command. All of which is respectfully submitted.

Bering, Commander.