The Arctic expeditions made during the period from
1734 to 1743 have only in part any connection with
the object of this work. These expeditions were, it is
true, planned by Bering, and it was due to his activity
and perseverance that they were undertaken. He secured
vessels, men, and means, and had charge of the first unsuccessful
attempt; he was responsible to the government,
and in his zeal went just as far as his instructions would
allow him. But his own special task soon taxed his time
too heavily to permit him to assume charge of the Arctic
expeditions. They were not carried out until several
years after his departure from Yakutsk,—after he had
ceased to be their leader. We have already shown Bering's
important relation to them, something which has
never before been done in West European literature.
Hence our object, namely, to give Bering his dues, may
therefore best be accomplished by giving a short account
of the results achieved by these expeditions.
The world has never witnessed a more heroic geographical
enterprise than these Arctic expeditions. In five or
six different directions—from the Petchora, the Obi, the
Yenesei, and the Lena—the unknown coasts of the Old
World were attacked.[61] For a whole decade these discoverers
struggled with all the obstacles which a terrible
climate and the resources of a half developed country
obliged them to contend with. They surmounted these
obstacles. The expeditions were renewed, two, three,
yes, even four times. If the vessels were frozen in, they
were hauled upon shore the next spring, repaired, and the
expedition continued. And if these intrepid fellows were
checked in their course by masses of impenetrable ice,
they continued their explorations on dog sledges, which
here for the first time were employed in Arctic exploration.
Cold, scurvy, and every degree of discomfort
wrought sad havoc among them, but many survived the
long polar winter in miserable wooden huts or barracks.
Nowhere has Russian hardiness erected for itself a more
enduring monument.
It was especially the projecting points and peninsulas
in this region that caused these explorers innumerable
difficulties. These points and capes had hitherto been
unknown. The crude maps of this period represented
the Arctic coast of Siberia as almost a straight line. It
was first necessary for the navigators to send cartographers
to these regions, build beacons and sea-marks, establish
magazines, collect herds of reindeer, which, partly as an
itinerant food supply, and partly to be used as an eventual
means of conveyance, followed along the coast with the
vessels, while here and there, especially on the Taimyr
peninsula, small fishing stations were established for supplying
the vessels.
In the summer of 1737 Malygin and Skuratoff crossed
the Kara Sea and sailed up the Gulf of Obi. In the
same year the able Ofzyn charted the coast between the
Obi and the Yenesei, but was reduced to the rank of a
common sailor, because in Berezov he had sought the
company of the exiled Prince Dolgoruki.
In the year previous, Pronchisheff all but succeeded
in doubling the Taimyr peninsula, and reached the
highest latitude (77° 29') that had been reached by water
before the Vega expedition. But it was especially in the
second attempt, from 1738 to 1743, that the greatest
results were attained. The two cousins, Chariton and
Dmitri Laptjef, who were equipped anew and vested with
great authority, attacked the task of doubling the
Taimyr and Bering peninsulas with renewed vigor. By
extensive sledging expeditions, the former linked his
explorations to those undertaken by Minin and Sterlegoff
from the west, and his mate, Chelyuskin, in 1742,
planted his feet on the Old World's most northerly point,
and thus relegated the story of a certain Jelmerland, said
to connect northern Asia with Novaia Zemlia, to that
lumber-room which contains so many ingenious cartographical
ideas. But even these contributions to science
were, perhaps, surpassed by those of Dmitri Laptjef. As
Lassenius's successor he charted, in three summers, the
Siberian coast from the Lena to the great Baranoff Cliff,
a distance of thirty-seven degrees. On this coast, toward
the last, he found himself in a narrow strait, from ten to
twenty yards wide, and he did not stop until there was
scarcely a bucketful of water between the polar ice and
the rocky shore. But Cape Schelagskii, on the northeast
coast, where Deshneff a century before had shown the
way, he did not succeed in doubling.
As a result of the labors of this great Northern
Expedition, the northern coast of the Old World
got substantially the same cartographical outline that
it now has. The determinations of latitude made by
the Russian officers were very accurate, but those of
longitude, based on nautical calculations, were not so
satisfactory. Their successors, Wrangell, Anjou, Middendorff,
and even Nordenskjöld, have therefore found
opportunity to make corrections of but minor importance,
especially in regard to longitude.
But it is necessary to dwell a little longer on
these expeditions. Their principal object was not so
much the charting of northern Siberia as the discovery
and navigation of the Northeast passage.
From this point of view alone they must be considered.
This is the connecting thought, the central
point in these scattered labors. They were an indirect
continuation of the West European expeditions
for the same purpose, but far more rational than
these. For this reason Bering had, on his expedition
of reconnoissance (1725-30), first sought that
thoroughfare between the two hemispheres without
which a Northeast and a Northwest passage could
not exist. For this reason also he had, on his far-sighted
plan, undertaken the navigation of the Arctic
seas, where this had not already been done by Deshneff,
and for this same reason the Admiralty sought carefully
to link their explorations to the West European termini,
on the coast of Novaia Zemlia as well as Japan. Moreover,
the discovery of a Northeast passage was the raison
d'être of these expeditions.
This alone promised the empire such commercial
and political advantages that the enormous expenditures
and the frightful hardships which these expeditions
caused Siberia, might be justified. For this
reason the government, summer after summer, drove
its sailors on along the Taimyr and Bering peninsulas;
for this reason, in 1740, it enjoined upon
D. Laptjef to make a last attempt to double northeast
Asia from Kamchatka, and this would undoubtedly
have been accomplished if the unfortunate death
of Bering had not occurred shortly after;[62] and for this
reason, also, the government caused the charting of the
coast by land after all nautical attempts had miscarried.
Any extended documentary proof of the correctness of
this view must be considered unnecessary. The instructions
expressly state the object of the expedition: to
ascertain with certainty whether vessels could find a
passage or not. Müller says the same. Scholars like
Middendorff, Von Baer, and Dr. Petermann look upon
these expeditions from the same standpoint, and have
seen fit to give them the place of honor among all the
geographical efforts in the Northeast passage.[63] Some
Swedish scholars alone have found it necessary to maintain
a different view. Dr. A. Stuxberg and Prof. Th.
M. Fries in Upsala have published accounts of the history
of the Northeast passage, in which not a word about
these expeditions is found. Between the days of Vlaming
and Cook, from 1688 until 1778, they find nothing
to be said of explorations in this part of the world, and
the charting of these waters does not, in their opinion,
seem to have any connection with the history of the
Northeast passage. Prof. Fries attempts to justify
this strange method of treatment by the assertion that
those expeditions did not seek the navigation of the
Northeast passage, and did not undertake to sail a ship
from the Atlantic to the Pacific. But what authority,
what historical foundation, have such assertions? Simply
because the Russians parceled out this work and went at
it in a sensible manner; because they did not loudly
proclaim their intention to sail directly from the Dwina
to Japan; because they had been instructed by the
visionary and fatal attempts of West Europe,—yes, one
is almost tempted to say, just because those Russian
expeditions alone are of any importance in the early
history of the passage, the Swedish historians pass them
by; Prof. Fries has even ventured the assertion that the
discovery of the Northeast passage by these Russian
expeditions, one hundred and thirty-seven years before
Nordenskjöld, is a discovery hitherto unsurmised by
anyone but the author of this work. I am not disposed
to wrangle about words, and still less to interfere
with anyone's well-earned privileges. By the discovery
of the Northeast passage, I understand that work of
geographical exploration, that determination of the distribution
of land and water along the northern boundary
of the Old World, that traversing and charting of the
coast which showed the existence of the passage, but
not the nautical utilization of it. This is the European
interpretation of this question. In any other sense
McClure did not discover the Northwest passage. If it is
permissible to speak of the discovery of the Northeast
passage after the time of Bering and the Great Northern
Expedition, it is equally permissible to speak of the
discovery of the Northwest passage after the time of the
great English expeditions. If some future Nordenskjöld
should take it into his head to choose these waters as
the scene of some great nautical achievement, McClure,
according to Prof. Fries's historical maxims, could not
even find a place in the history of this passage, for it
was not his object to sail a ship around the north of
the New World. I very much doubt, however, that the
Professor would in such a case have the courage to
apply his maxims.
Nor does Baron Nordenskjöld concede to the Great
Northern Expedition a place in the history of the Northeast
passage. The "Voyage of the Vega" is an imposing
work, and was written for a large public, but even the
author of this work has not been able to rise to an
unbiased and just estimate of his most important predecessors.
His presentation of the subject of Russian
explorations in the Arctic regions, not alone Bering's
work and that of the Great Northern Expedition, but
also Wrangell's, Lütke's, and Von Baer's, is unfair,
unsatisfactory, inaccurate, and hence misleading in
many respects. Nordenskjöld's book comes with such
overpowering authority, and has had such a large
circulation, that it is one's plain duty to point out palpable
errors. Nordenskjöld is not very familiar with the
literature relating to this subject. He does not know
Berch's, Stuckenberg's, or Sokoloff's works. Middendorff's
and Von Baer's clever treatises he uses only incidentally.
He has restricted himself to making extracts
from Wrangell's account, which in many respects is more
than incomplete, and does not put these expeditions in
the right light. It is now a couple of generations since
Wrangell's work was written, which is more a general
survey than an historical presentation. While Nordenskjöld
devotes page after page to an Othere's, an Ivanoff's,
and a Martinier's very indifferent or wholly imaginary
voyages around northern Norway, he disposes of the Great
Northern Expedition, without whose labors the voyage
of the Vega would have been utterly impossible, in five
unhappily written pages. One seeks in vain in his work
for the principal object of the Northern Expedition,—for
the leading idea that made these magnificent enterprises
an organic whole, or for a full and just recognition
of these able, and, in some respects, unfortunate men,
whose labors have so long remained without due appreciation.
In spite of Middendorff's interesting account of
the cartography of the Taimyr peninsula, Nordenskjöld
does not make the slightest attempt to explain whether
his corrections of the cartography of this region are
corrections of the work of Laptjef and Chelyuskin, or of
the misrepresentations of their work made by a later age.
About the charting of Cape Chelyuskin he says:
"This was done by Chelyuskin in 1742 on a new sledging
expedition, the details of which are but little known;
evidently because until the most recent times there has
been a doubt in regard to Chelyuskin's statement that
he had reached the most northerly point of Asia.
After the voyage of the Vega, however, there can no
longer be any doubt."[64]
The truth is, ever since 1843,[65] when Middendorff
published the preliminary account of his expedition to
the Taimyr peninsula, no doubt has prevailed that all
who are familiar with Russian literature, or even with
German literature, on this subject, have long since been
convinced of the fact that the most northern point of
Asia was visited and charted a century and a half ago,—that
the details of Chelyuskin's expedition, so far from
being unknown, are those parts of the work of the Northern
Expedition which have been most thoroughly investigated
and most often presented. Nordenskjöld's recognition
of Chelyuskin's work comes thirty-eight years too late;
it has already been treated with quite a different degree
of thoroughness than by the few words expended on it in
the "Voyage of the Vega." In 1841, Von Baer accused
Chelyuskin of having dishonestly given the latitude of
the most northerly point of Asia, and these charges Nordenskjöld
prints as late as 1881 without any comment
whatever. If he had only seen Von Baer's magazine for
1845[66] he would there have found the most unreserved
retraction of them and most complete restitution to Chelyuskin
on the part of Von Baer, and would thus have
escaped ascribing to a man opinions which he renounced
a generation ago. Middendorff is likewise very painstaking
in presenting the history of these measurements,
and is open and frank in his praise. He says: "In the
spring of 1742 Chelyuskin crowned his work by sailing
from the Khatanga River around the eastern Taimyr
peninsula and also around the most northerly point of
Asia. He is the only one who a century ago had succeeded
in reaching and doubling this promontory. The
fact that among many he alone was successful in this
enterprise, must be attributed to his great ability. On
account of his perseverance, as well as his careful and
exact measurements, he stands preëminent among seamen
who have labored in the Taimyr country." And
furthermore, in 1785, Sokoloff published a very careful
and extensive account of these labors, together with an
extract from Chelyuskin's diary relating to the charting
of the Taimyr peninsula, which later was published in
German by Dr. Petermann.[67] The difference in latitude
of the northern point of the Taimyr peninsula as determined
by Chelyuskin and by Nordenskjöld is scarcely
three minutes.[68]
The men that took part in these early Russian
explorations have not yet received their just dues.
Not one of them, however, needs rehabilitation so much
as Spangberg. He is entitled to an independent place
in geographical history, but has been completely barred
out. O. Peschel and Prof. Ruge know him as Bering's
principal officer, but not as the discoverer of the Kurile
Islands and Japan from the north. And yet, just this
was his task. He was to sail from Kamchatka to Nipon,
chart the Kurile Islands, link the Russian explorations
to the West European cartography of northern Japan,
and investigate the geography of the intervening region,—especially
the cartographical monsters which in the
course of a century of contortion had developed from
De Vries's intelligent map of East Yezo, Iturup (Staaten
Eiland) and Urup (Kompagniland). We have already
spoken of these geographical deformities, which assumed
the most grotesque forms, and were at that time accepted
by the scientific world. The version of the brothers
De l'Isle, which perhaps was the most sober, may be
seen from Map II. in the appendix.
By Strahlenberg (1730) and by Bellin and Charlesvoix
(1735), highly respected names among scholars of that
day, Kamchatka and Yezo were represented as forming a
great continent separated by narrow sounds from Japan,
which was continued on the meridian of Kamchatka
and Yezo, and from an eastern chain of islands—Staaten
Eiland and Kompagniland—that seemed to project into
the Pacific in the form of a continent.
Kiriloff, who was familiar with Bering's map of eastern
Asia, and made use of it, and who knew of the
most northerly Kuriles, made the necessary corrections
in his general map of Russia (1734), but retained, in
regard to Yezo and Japan, a strangely unfortunate composition
of Dutch and Strahlenberg accounts, and put
Nipon (Hondo) much too far to the east. In these
cartographical aids Spangberg found only errors and
confusion, and he got about the same kind of assistance
from his real predecessors in practical exploration.
Peschel tells that Ivan Kosyrefski, in the years 1712-13,
thoroughly investigated the Kurile chain; there is, however,
but little truth in this. Peschel gives G. F.
Müller as his authority and refers to his book, but the
latter says explicitly on this point: "All of Kosyrefski's
voyages were confined to the first two or three Kuriles;
farther than this he did not go, and whatever he tells
of beyond them was obtained from the accounts of
others." It is possible that Müller's judgment is a trifle
one-sided, but it is nevertheless certain that Kosyrefski's
description of the Kuriles is based on his own explorations
only in a very slight degree, and that he by no
means deserves the place that Peschel and Ruge have
accorded him. Nor did Lushin's and Yevrinoff's expedition
in the summer of 1721 get very far—scarcely
beyond the fifth or sixth island—and with them, until
Spangberg appeared on the scene, Russian explorations
in this quarter were at a standstill.
The expedition to Japan (1738) was undertaken with
three ships. Spangberg and Petroff sailed the one-masted
brig, the Archangel Michael, Lieutenant Walton
and first mate Kassimiroff the three-masted double sloop
Hope, and Second-Lieutenant Schelting had Bering's
old vessel, the Gabriel. The Michael had a crew of
sixty-three, among them a monk, a physician, and an
assayer, and each of the other two ships had a crew of
forty-four. The flotilla left Okhotsk on the 18th of June,
1738, but was detained in the Sea of Okhotsk by ice,
and did not reach Bolsheretsk until the early part of
July. From here, on the 15th of July, Spangberg
departed for the Kuriles to begin charting.
The Kurile chain, the thousand islands or Chi-Shima,
as the Japanese call them, is 650 kilometers long. These
islands are simply a multitude of crater crests which
shoot up out of the sea, and on that account make navigation
very difficult. The heavy fog, which almost continually
prevails here, conceals all landmarks. In the
great depths, sounding afforded little assistance, and,
furthermore, around these islands and through the
narrow channels there are heavy breakers and swift
currents.
For nearly a century after Spangberg, these obstacles
defied some of the world's bravest seamen. Captain
Gore, who was last in command of Cook's ships, was
obliged to give up the task of charting this region; La
Pérouse succeeded in exploring only the Boussale channel;
the fogs forced Admiral Sarycheff (1792) to give
up his investigations here; Captain Broughton (1796)
was able to circumnavigate only the most southerly
islands, without, however, succeeding in giving a correct
representation of them; and not until the early
part of this century did Golovnin succeed in charting
the group more accurately than Spangberg. All of
these difficulties were experienced in full measure
by Spangberg's expedition. In constant combat with
fogs, swift currents, and heavy seas along steep and
rocky coasts, he had, by the 3d of August, 1738, circumnavigated
thirty-one islands (our maps have not
nearly so large a number), and at a latitude of 45° 30'
he reached the large island Nadeshda, (the Kompagniland
of the Dutch, Urup), but, as he could nowhere
find a place to anchor, and as the nights were growing
dark and long, the ship's bread running short, and the
crew for a long time having been on half rations, he
turned back, and reached Bolsheretsk on the 17th of
August. Lieutenant Walton, who had parted company
with his chief and had sailed as far down as 43° 30'
north latitude, thus reaching the parallel of Yezo,
arrived a few days later. As well as the other chiefs of
these expeditions, Spangberg had authority, without a
renewed commission, to repeat the expedition the following
summer; hence the winter was spent in preparations
for it. So far as it was possible to do so, he sought to
provision himself in Kamchatka, and, especially for
reconnoitering the coast, he built of birchwood an eighteen-oared
boat, called the Bolsheretsk.
On the 21st of May, 1739, he again stood out to sea
with all four ships, and on the 25th of the same month
he reached Kurile Strait, and from here sailed south
southeast into the Pacific to search for Gamaland and all
the legendary group of islands which appeared on De
l'Isle's map. This southerly course, about on the meridian
of Kamchatka, he kept until the 8th of June, reaching
a latitude of 42°. As he saw nothing but sea and
sky, he veered to the west southwest for the purpose of
"doing the lands" near the coast of Japan. Walton,
who, in spite of Spangberg's strictest orders, was constantly
seeking to go off on his own tack, finally, on the
14th of June, found an opportunity to steal away and
sail in a southwesterly direction. In different latitudes,
but on the same day, the 16th of June, both discovered
land. Walton followed the coast of Nipon down to latitude
33°, but Spangberg confined his explorations to the
region between 39° and 37° 30' N. The country was very
rich. A luxuriant vegetation—grape vines, orange trees
and palms—decked its shores. Rich fields of rice, numerous
villages, and populous cities were observed from the
vessel. The sea teemed with fish of enormous size and
peculiar form, and the currents brought them strange
and unknown plants. The arrival of the ships caused
great excitement among the natives, beacons burned
along the coast all night, and cruisers swarmed about
them at a respectful distance. On the 22d, Spangberg
cast anchor one verst from shore, and sought to communicate
with them. The Japanese brought rice, tobacco,
various kinds of fruits and cloths, which, on very reasonable
terms, they exchanged for Russian wares. They
were very polite, and Spangberg succeeded in obtaining
some gold coins, which, however, he found were described
by Kæmpfer. Several persons of high rank visited him
in his cabin and attempted to explain to him, by the aid
of his map and globe, the geography of Japan and Yezo.
As his instructions enjoined upon him the most extreme
cautiousness, and as on the following day he found himself
surrounded by eighty large boats, each with ten or
twelve men, he weighed anchor and stood out to sea in a
northeasterly direction.
It was Spangberg's purpose to chart the southern part
of the Kurile Islands, and, as will be seen from his chart,[69]
he sought to accomplish his task, and thus complete his
work of 1738. The casual observer will, however, find
this map unsatisfactory and inaccurate, and will not
only be quite confused in viewing these islands so promiscuously
scattered about, and which seemingly do
not correspond with the actual geography of this region
as known to us, but he will even be inclined to suspect
Spangberg of gross fraud. This is certainly very unjust,
however, and after a careful study of a modern map, I
venture the following opinion on this subject: In order
to be able to understand his chart and course, the most
essential thing necessary is simply to determine his first
place of landing in the Kuriles, the island Figurnyi, and
to identify it with its present name. He discovered this
island on the 3d of July. Müller says that, according to
the ship's journal, it is in latitude 43° 50' N., and in spite
of the fact that Spangberg's determinations in longitude,
based on the ship's calculations, were as a rule somewhat
inaccurate, which in a measure is shown by Nipon's being
located so far west, he is nevertheless in this case right.
Figurnyi is the island Sikotan and has the astronomical
position of this island on the chart (according to Golovnin
43° 53' N. and 146° 43' 30" E.). This opinion is corroborated
by a map of the Russian discoveries published at
St. Petersburg in 1787, and by Captain Broughton, who
described the island in the fall of 1796, and gave it the
name of Spangberg's Island, in honor of its first discoverer.
With this point fixed, it is not difficult to
understand and follow Spangberg.
Spangberg labored under very unfavorable circumstances.
It rained constantly, the coast was enveloped in
heavy fogs, and at times it was impossible to see land at
a distance of eight yards. From Figurnyi he sailed
southwest, but under these difficult circumstances he
took the little islands of Taroko and the northern point
of Yezo to be one continuous coast (Seljonyi, the green
island), and anchored at the head of Walvisch bay, his
Bay of Patience. From here he saw the western shore of
the bay, reached its farthest point, Cape Notske, and
discovered the peninsula of Sirokot and parts of the
island Kumashiri, which he called Konosir and Tsyntrounoi
respectively; but, as he turned from Cape Notske
and sailed east into the Pacific, between Sikotan and the
Taroko Islands, he did not reach the Kurile Islands themselves,
and only the most northerly island in the group
of the "Three Sisters" may possibly be the southern
point of Iturup. He then proceeded along the eastern
coast of Yezo, took the deep bay of Akischis as a strait
separating Seljonyi and Konosir, then crossed in a southerly
direction the large bay on the central coast of Yezo,
without seeing land at its head, to Cape Jerimo (his
Matmai), and had thus navigated the whole east coast of
Yezo; but on account of the heavy fog, which prevented
him from seeing the exact outline of the coast, he made
three islands of Yezo: Matmai, Seljonyi and Konosir. In
1643, De Vries had in his map linked a number of islands
together, making one stretch of country called Jeço, and
now Spangberg had gone to the opposite extreme.
These explorations engaged Spangberg from the 3d to
the 25th of July. He several times met inhabitants of
North Yezo, the Aïno people, whose principal characteristics
he has fully described, but as his men were suffering
from scurvy, causing frequent deaths among them
(by August 29, when he arrived at Okhotsk, he had
lost thirteen, among them the physician), he resolved to
turn at Cape Jerimo, and on his return trip keep his
course so close to the Kuriles that he might strike the
extreme points of De l'Isle's Jeço, all of Kompagniland,
and the most westerly parts of Gamaland.
Spangberg's explorations were far from exhaustive.
He but partly succeeded in lifting the veil that so
persistently concealed the true outline of this irregularly
formed part of the globe. His reconnoissance was to
ascertain the general oceanic outline of these coasts.
His charting of Yezo and Saghalin was left to a much
later day,—to La Pérouse, to Krusenstern, Golovnin, and
others. But Spangberg's expedition nevertheless marks
great progress in our geographical knowledge, for not
only did he irrevocably banish the cartographical myths
of that region, and, on the whole, give a correct representation
of the Kurile islands clear to Iturup, the next
to the last of them, but he also determined the position
of North Japan, and fully accomplished his original
task, namely, to show the Russians the way to Japan,
and thus add this long disputed part of the Northeast
passage to the other explorations for the same purpose.
As was the case with that of all of his colleagues,
so Spangberg's reputation suffered under the violent
administrative changes and that system of suppression
which later prevailed in Russia. His reports were never
made public. The Russian cartographers made use of
his chart, but they did not understand how to fit
judiciously his incomplete coast-lines to those already
known, or to distinguish right from wrong. They even
omitted the course of his vessel, thus excluding all
possibility of understanding his work. Hence Spangberg's
chart never reached West Europe, and Cook found
it necessary to reinstate him as well as Bering.[70] After
that the feeling was more favorable, and Coxe,[71] for
instance, used his representation of the Kuriles; but new
and better outlines of this region appeared about this
time, and Spangberg again sank into complete oblivion.
Spangberg's safe return was a bright spot in the
history of the Great Northern Expedition, and Bering
was very well satisfied with the results. He permitted
him and his crew to go to Yakutsk to obtain rest, and
ordered him to return to St. Petersburg the next spring
to render in person an account of the results of the
expedition. His preliminary report, sent in advance,
received considerable attention in the cabinet of the
Empress, and caused much talk in the leading circles of
the capital. While in Yakutsk, he received orders to
travel day and night to reach St. Petersburg. Meanwhile,
however, his old enemy Pissarjeff had also been
active. Surreptitiously, especially from Walton, who
was constantly at enmity with his chief, he had obtained
some information concerning the expedition and had
reported to the Senate that Spangberg had not been in
Japan at all, but off the coast of Corea. This assertion
he sought to prove by referring to pre-Spangberg maps,
which, as we have noted, placed Japan eleven or twelve
degrees too far east, directly south of Kamchatka. This
gossip was credited in the Senate, and a courier was
dispatched to stop Spangberg. At Fort Kirinsk, on the
Lena, in the summer of 1740, he received orders to
return to Okhotsk and repeat his voyage to Japan, while
a commission of naval officers and scholars betook themselves
to investigate the matter. These wise men, after
several years of deliberation, came to the conclusion that
Walton had been in Japan, and that Spangberg most
probably had been off the coast of Corea. In the
summer of 1742, he started out on his third expedition to
Japan, but as this was a complete failure, undoubtedly
due to Spangberg's anger on account of the government's
unjust and insane action, and as it has no geographical
significance, we shall give it no further consideration.
We left Bering when, in 1740, he was about to
depart from the harbor of Okhotsk with the St.
Peter and the St. Paul, two smaller transports, and a
vessel to convey the scientists, Steller and La Croyère, to
Bolsheretsk. The objective point of the main expedition
was Avacha Bay, on the eastern coast of Kamchatka.
The excellent harbors here had been discovered by
Bering's crew a couple of years previous. He had now
sent his mate, Yelagin, to chart the bay, find a sheltered
harbor there, and establish a fortified place of abode on
this coast. This work Yelagin completed in the summer
of 1740, and when in the latter part of September the
packet boats entered Avacha Bay, they found, in a
smaller bay on the north side, Niakina Cove, some barracks
and huts. A fort was built in the course of
the winter and the pious Bering had a church built
and consecrated to St. Peter and St. Paul, thus founding
the present town of Petropavlovsk. The place rapidly
became the most important and pleasant town of the
peninsula, although that is not saying much. In 1779,
the place was still so insignificant that Cook's officers
searched long in vain for it with their field-glasses,
but finally discovered about thirty huts on that point
which shelters the harbor. In the middle of this century
it had about a thousand inhabitants, but since the
sale of Russian America, Bering's town has been hopelessly
on the decline. At present it has scarcely 600
inhabitants and is of importance only to the fur trade.
Its first permanent inhabitants were brought from
the forts on the Kamchatka, and in the course of the
autumn there arrived from Anadyrskoi Ostrog a herd
of reindeer to supply the command of over two hundred
men with food, and thus spare other stores. This was
very necessary, for although Bering had left Okhotsk
with nearly two years' provisions, one of the ships,
through the carelessness of an officer, stranded in crossing
the Okhotsk bar, and the cargo, consisting of the
ship's bread for the voyage to America, was destroyed
and could not immediately be replaced. Some lesser
misfortunes in Avacha Bay further diminished the stores,
and hence, in the course of the winter, Bering found it
necessary to have large supplies brought across the
country from Bolsheretsk. The distance is about one
hundred and forty miles, and as nothing but dogs could
be procured, the natives were gathered from the remotest
quarters of the peninsula to accomplish this work of
transportation. The Kamshadales disliked journeys very
much. They had already suffered terribly under the
misrule of the Cossacks. They were treated cruelly,
and many died of overwork and want, and the rest lost
patience. The tribes in the vicinity of Tigil revolted.
The Cossack chief Kolessoff, who was constantly drunk,
neglected to superintend the transportation, and as a
result, much was injured or ruined. Some of those supplies
arrived too late to be used for the expedition.
Bering's original plan was to spend two years on this
expedition. He was to winter on the American coast,
navigate it from 60° N. latitude to Bering Strait, and
then return along the coast of Asia. But this had to be
abandoned.
In May, 1741, when the ice broke up, he could
supply his ships with frugal, not to say very poor, provisions,
for only five and a half months. Moreover,
his ship's stores and reserve rigging were both incomplete
and inadequate. Bering's powers of resistance
now began to wane. After eight years of incessant
trouble and toil, after all the accusations and suspicions
he had undergone, he was now forced to face the thought
of an unsatisfactory conclusion of his first voyage, at
least. Besides, Spangberg's fate could not but have a
very depressing influence, for it told Bering and his
associates that even with the best of results it would
hardly be possible to overcome the prejudices of the
government authorities or their lack of confidence in
the efforts of the new marine service. Undoubtedly it
was such thoughts as these that swayed Bering and
Chirikoff, when, on the 4th of May, they called the
ship's council to consider the prospective voyage (the
proceedings are not known). Although both, as well
as the best of their officers, were of the opinion that
America[72] was to be sought in a direction east by
north from Avacha, and in spite of the fact that they
were both familiar with Gvosdjeff's discovery of the American
coast of Bering Strait (1732), and that their observations
during the course of the winter had amply corroborated
Bering's earlier opinion, they nevertheless
allowed themselves to be prevailed upon to search first
in a southeasterly direction for the legendary Gamaland.
And thus the lid of Pandora's box was lifted.
This fatal resolution was due principally to the
brothers De l'Isle, and, as this name is most decisively
connected with Bering's life and renown, we must say
a few words about these brothers. The elder and more
talented, Guillaume De l'Isle, undoubtedly represented
the geographical knowledge of his day, but he died as
early as 1726. He came in personal contact with the Czar
during the latter's visit in Paris, and corresponded with
him afterwards. His maps were the worst stumbling
blocks to Bering's first voyage. The younger brother,
Joseph Nicolas, on the other hand, was called to Russia
in 1726, on his brother's recommendation, and was
appointed chief astronomer of the newly founded
Academy. In this position he was for twenty-one years
engaged upon the cartography of the great Russian
empire. Under his supervision the atlas of the Academy
appeared in 1745, and it was supposed that he carried
very valuable geographical collections with him to Paris
in 1747. But if this was the case, he did not understand
how to make proper use of them, and, as it is, he is of
no geographical importance. When he went to Russia,
he took with him, without special invitation, his elder
brother, Louis, and did everything to secure him a scientific
position in the country. Louis seems to have been
an amiable good-for-nothing, who highly prized a good
table and a social glass, but cared as little as possible
for scientific pursuits. When, as a young man, he
studied theology in Paris, his father found it necessary
to send him to Canada, where he assumed his mother's
name, La Croyère, and for seventeen years lived a soldier's
wild life, until his brothers, on the death of the
father, recalled him from his exile. In St. Petersburg
his brother instructed him in the elements of astronomy,
sent him upon a surveying expedition to Lapland, and
finally secured him a position as chief astronomer of
Bering's second expedition. This was a great mistake.
Louis de l'Isle de la Croyère very unsatisfactorily filled
his position. His Academic associates Müller and Gmelin
had no regard for him whatever, and hence under the
pressure of this contempt, and as a result of this irregular
and protracted life in a barbaric country, La Croyère,
having no native power of resistance, sank deeper and
deeper into hopeless sluggishness. His astronomical
determinations in Kamchatka are worthless. His Russian
assistants, especially Krassilnikoff, did this part of
the work of the expedition.
As early as 1730, Bering, as we have seen, came into
unfortunate relations with Joseph De l'Isle, and this state
of affairs afterwards grew gradually worse. In 1731, the
Senate requested the latter to construct a map of the
northern part of the Pacific in order to present
graphically the still unsolved problems for geographical
research. He submitted this map to the Senate on the
6th of October, 1732, that is, two years and a half after
Bering's proposition to undertake the Great Northern
Expedition, but this did not deter him, in 1750, from
ascribing to himself, on the basis of this same map and
an accompanying memoir, Bering's proposition, nor from
publishing an entirely perverted account of Bering's
second expedition. He clung to all of his brother's conjectures
about Gamaland, Kompagniland, and Staatenland
as well as Jeço, although they were based on very unreliable
accounts and the cartographical distortions of several
generations. On the other hand, he most arbitrarily
rejected all Russian accounts of far more recent and reliable
origin, so that only Bering's and part of Yevrinoff's
and Lushin's outlines of the first Kuriles were allowed to
appear on the official map. He would rather reject all
Russian works that could be made doubtful, than his
brother's authority, and even in 1753, over twenty years
after Spangberg's and Bering's voyages, he persistently
sought to maintain his brother Guillaume's and his own
unreasonable ideas concerning the cartography of this
region. It was in part this dogged persistence in clinging
to family prejudices that robbed Spangberg of his
well-earned reward and brought Bering's last expedition
to a sad end.
When the second Kamchatkan expedition left St. Petersburg,
a copy of De l'Isle's map was given to Bering as
well as to La Croyère. De l'Isle wrote the latter's
instructions—ably written, by the way—and it was a
result of his efforts that the Senate ordered Bering and
Chirikoff to consult with La Croyère concerning the
route to America,—a very reasonable decree in case he
had been a good geographer. As it was, the order simply
meant that they were to go according to the regulations
of De l'Isle in St. Petersburg. In the ship's council on
the 4th of May, 1741, La Croyère immediately produced
the above-mentioned map, and directed the expedition first
to find Gamaland, which, it was claimed, could lie but a
few days' sailing toward the southeast, and would furnish
good assistance in finding America. But La Croyère
was only a spokesman for his brother, who in his memoir
had constructed his principal reasoning on this basis. He
says here that America can be reached from the Chukchee
peninsula as well as from the mouth of the Kamchatka
River, but with greatest ease and certainty from
Avacha Bay in a southeasterly direction to the northern
coast of Gamaland. In order to support this supposition
he adds: "It grieves me not to have found other information
about this land seen by Don Juan de Gama than
what is given on the map of my late brother, his most
Christian Majesty's first geographer. But as he indicated
the position of this country with reference to Kompagniland
and Jeço, and as I am certain, from other sources,
of the position of these two countries, I am consequently
convinced of their correct situation and distance from
Kamchatka."
That these miserable arguments exercised any influence
upon the ship's council on the 4th of May, would
seem impossible, if we did not bear in mind the conduct
of the authorities in St. Petersburg. Two years previous
Spangberg had sailed right across Kompagniland, Staatenland
and Jeço, and thus made every point in De l'Isle's
argument untenable. Bering and Chirikoff were familiar
with the results of these voyages, and shared Spangberg's
opinion. For this reason they could not possibly ascribe
any great importance to De l'Isle's directions which were
based on antiquated assumptions, but on the other hand,
they had neither moral nor practical independence enough
to take their own course. The government laws, and
especially the Senate decrees, bound their hands. They
were to submit all important measures to the action of
a commission, and were far from being sovereign commanders
in any modern sense. Under these circumstances
they found it advisable, and possibly necessary, to
act in accordance with the opinion of these learned scholars,
so as to be able later to defend themselves in every
particular against the criticisms of the Academy. Hence
the commission resolved that the expedition should first
find the northern coast of Gamaland, follow this coast in
an easterly direction to America, and turn back in time to
be at home in Avacha Bay by the end of September. In
this way their ships were carried far into the Pacific and
away from the Aleutian chain of islands, which, like the
thread of Ariadne, would speedily have led them to the
western continent.
In the course of the month of May the vessels were
equipped and supplied with provisions for five and
a half months, several cords of wood, 100 casks of water,
and two rowboats each. The St. Peter, commanded by
Bering, had a crew of 77, among whom were Lieutenant
Waxel, shipmaster Khitroff, the mates Hesselberg, and
Jushin, the surgeon Betge, the conductor Plenisner,
Ofzyn (whom we remember as the officer who had been
reduced in rank), and Steller. On board the St. Paul,
commanded by Lieut. Alexei Chirikoff, were found the
marine officers Chegatchoff and Plautin, La Croyère, and
the assistant surgeon Lau,—in all about 76 men. Before
his departure, Bering had a very difficult matter to
arrange. His instructions directed him to take with him
to America a mineralogist; but when Spangberg had
started out on his unexpected expedition to Japan, Bering
had sent with him the mineralogist Hartelpol, and now
he found it impossible in East Siberia to get a man to fill
his place. Hence, as early as February, Bering applied to
Steller and tried to induce him to take upon himself the
duties of naturalist and mineralogist on this expedition.
Steller was born at Windsheim, Germany, in 1709. He
first studied theology and had even begun to preach, when
the study of science suddenly drew him from the church.
He studied medicine and botany, passed the medical examinations
in Berlin, and lectured on medicine in Halle.
Then, partly as a matter of necessity and partly from a
desire to travel, he went to Danzig, where he became surgeon
on a Russian vessel, and finally, after a series of
vicissitudes, he landed in St. Petersburg as a lecturer in
the Academy of Science. According to his own desire he
went to Siberia as Gmelin's and Müller's assistant, and,
as these gentlemen found it altogether too uncomfortable
to travel any farther east than Yakutsk, he took upon
himself the exploration of Kamchatka. He was an
enthusiast in science, who heeded neither obstacles nor
dangers, a keen and successful observer, who has enriched
science with several classical chapters, and had an ardent
and passionate nature that attacked without regard to
persons every form of injustice. His pen could be shaped
to epigrammatic sharpness, and his tongue spared no one.
In 1741, he wished to extend his investigations to Japan,
and had, when Bering sought to secure his services, sent
to the Academy a request to be permitted to participate
in Spangberg's third expedition. Steller had, however,
great hesitancy about leaving his special field of investigation
without orders or permission, and Bering had to
assume all responsibility to the Senate and Academy, and
also secure for him from a council of all the ship's officers
an assurance of the position as mineralogist of the expedition,
before he could be induced to accept. Bering is
said to have charged him verbally to make observations
in all the departments of natural history, and promised
him all necessary assistance. Steller accuses Bering of
not having kept his promises, and, although he preserved
until the last a high regard for Bering's seamanship and
noble character, there nevertheless developed, during the
expedition, a vehement enmity between Steller and the
naval officers, especially Waxel and Khitroff, and this
enmity found very pregnant expression in Steller's diary,[73]
which, in this respect, is more a pamphlet than a description
of travel. It is impossible, however, with our present
resources, to ascertain the true state of affairs. Concerning
Bering's voyage to America, we have only the St.
Peter's journals kept by Waxel, Jushin, and Khitroff, and
an account by Waxel, all of which have been used by
Sokoloff in the preparation of the memoirs of the hydrographic
department. Steller's diary, which goes into a
detailed account of things in quite a different way than
the official reports, was also used by Sokoloff, but as the
latter had but little literary taste and still less sympathy
for the contending parties, especially for Bering, he does
not attempt to dispense justice between them. Steller's
criticism must be looked upon as an eruption of that ill-humor
which so often and so easily arises in the relations
between the chief of an expedition and the accompanying
scientists, between men with divergent interests and different
aims. Bering and Steller, Cook and his naturalists,
Kotzebue and Chamisso, are prominent examples of
this disagreement. It is well known that Cook called the
naturalists "the damned disturbers of the peace," and
that he more than once threatened to put them off on
some island or other in the ocean. Steller accuses Bering
of having too much regard for his subordinate officers,
but in all likelihood these had made the countercharge
that he gave too much heed to the scientists. At any
rate, Bering has often been blamed for—in accordance
with his instruction—letting La Croyère take part in the
councils at Avacha. But we must not forget that Steller
was a hot-headed and passionate fellow who persistently
maintained his own opinions. From many points in his
accounts, it appears that during this whole expedition he
was in a state of geographical confusion; and even after
his return he seemed to imagine that the two continents
were separated by simply a narrow channel. He was
guided by observations of a scientific nature, and, as the
course of the St. Peter was no farther from the Aleutian
Islands than the appearance of seaweed, seals, and birds
indicated, he constantly imagined that they were off the
coast of the New World. The naval officers, on the other
hand, sought guidance in sounding; but as their course
carried them out upon the great depths of the Pacific, the
northern wall of which very precipitously ascends to the
Aleutian Islands, their measurements were of no assistance,
and in various points Steller was undoubtedly correct.
The principal reason for Steller's complaint must
be sought in Bering's illness, and it is easily perceived
that, if the scurvy had not at a very early stage undermined
his strength, his superior seamanship would have
secured the expedition quite different results than those
that were obtained.
After a prayer service, the ships weighed anchor on the
4th of June, 1741. Expectations on board were great,—the
New World was to open up before them. According
to the plan adopted, a southeasterly course was taken,
and in spite of some unfortunate friction, Bering gave
Chirikoff the lead, so as to leave him no cause for complaint.
They kept their course until the afternoon of
June 12, when they found themselves, after having sailed
over six hundred miles in a southeasterly direction, in
latitude 46° 9' N. and 14° 30' east of Avacha. According
to De l'Isle's map they should long before have come to
the coasts of Gamaland, but as they only saw sea and sky,
Bering gave the command to turn back. With variable
and unfavorable winds, they worked their way, during
the few succeeding days, in a direction of N. N. E. up to
latitude 49° 30', where Chirikoff, on the 20th of June, in
storm and fog, left Bering and sailed E. N. E. in the
direction of the American coast, without attempting to
keep with the St. Peter. This was the first real misfortune
of the expedition. For forty-eight hours Bering
kept close to the place of separation, in hopes of
again joining the St. Paul, and, as this proved fruitless,
he convened a ship's council, at which it was decided
to give up all further search for the St. Paul; it was
also resolved—in order to remove every doubt—to
sail again to the 46th degree to find Gamaland. Having
arrived here, some birds were seen, whereupon they
continued their course to 45° 16' N. and 16° 28' east of
Avacha, but of course without any results. During the
four succeeding weeks, the ship's course was between
north and east, toward the western continent, but as on
their southern course they had come out upon the depths
of Tuscarora, which, several thousand fathoms deep, run
right up to the Aleutian reef, their soundings gave them
no clue to land, although they were sailing almost parallel
with this chain of islands. But Bering was now confined
to his cabin. The troubles he had passed through,
his sixty years of age, and the incipient stages of scurvy,
had crushed his powers of resistance, while his officers,
Waxel and Khitroff, dismissed Steller's observations with
scornful sarcasm. Not until the 12th of July did they
take any precautions against a sudden landing. They
took in some of the sails during the night and hove to.
They had then been on the sea about six weeks. Their
supply of water was about half gone, and according to the
ship's calculations, which show an error of 8°, they had
sailed 46½° (i. e., 54½°) from the meridian of Avacha.
The ship's council therefore concluded, on the 13th of
July, to sail due north, heading N. N. E., and at noon
on the 16th of July, in a latitude by observation of
58° 14' and a longitude of 49½° east of Avacha, they
finally saw land to the north.[74] The country was elevated,
the coast was jagged, covered with snow, inhospitable,
and girt with islands, behind which a snow-capped
mountain peak towered so high into the clouds that it
could be seen at a distance of seventy miles. "I do not
remember," says Steller, "of having seen a higher mountain
in all Siberia and Kamchatka." This mountain
was the volcano St. Elias, which is about 18,000 feet
high. Bering had thus succeeded in discovering America
from the east. As they had a head wind, they moved very
slowly toward the north, and not until the morning of the
20th did they cast anchor off the western coast of an
island which they called Sct. Ilii (St. Elias) in honor of
the patron saint of the day. On the same day, Khitroff
with fifteen men went, in the ship's boat, to search for a
harbor and to explore the island and its nearest surroundings.
Steller, who had desired to accompany him, was
put ashore with the crew that brought fresh water from
St. Elias, and endeavored, as well as it was possible in a
few hours, to investigate the natural history of the island.
Khitroff circumnavigated the island and found various
traces of human habitation. Thus, on one of the adjacent
islands, a timbered house was found containing a fireplace,
a bark basket, a wooden spade, some mussel shells, and a
whetstone, which apparently had been used for sharpening
copper implements. In an earth-hut another detachment
had found some smoked fish, a broken arrow, the
remains of a fire, and several other things. The coast of
the mainland, which was mountainous with snow-capped
peaks, was seen at a distance of eight miles. A good harbor
was found on the north side of the large island. All
the islands were covered with trees, but these were so low
and slender that timber available for yards was not to be
found. On his venturesome wanderings here, only now
and then accompanied by a Cossack, Steller penetrated
these woods, where he discovered a cellar, which contained
articles of food and various implements. As some
of these things were sent on board, Bering, by way of
indemnification, caused to be placed there an iron kettle,
a pound of tobacco, a Chinese pipe, and a piece of
silk cloth.
In geographical literature complete uncertainty in
regard to Bering's island St. Elias and its situation
off the American coast still prevails. This uncertainty is
due partly to Müller and partly to Cook. Müller is
inaccurate; in fact, confused. He says that Bering saw
the American continent in a latitude of 58° 28', and at
a difference of longitude from Avacha of 50° (in reality,
58° 14' and 56° 30'), but he gives neither the latitude
nor longitude of the island of St. Elias, which is the
important point, and on his map of 1758, where he goes
into details more than in his description, he marked on
latitude 58° 28': "Coast discovered by Bering in 1741."
On such vague reports nothing can be based. In the
ship's journal, however, which Müller in all likelihood
must have seen, the latitude of the island is entered as
59° 40', and the longitude, according to the ship's
calculations, as 48° 50' east of Avacha. But as Bering's
calculations, on account of the strong current, which in
these waters flows at a rate of twenty miles, had an
error of about 8°, the longitude becomes 56° 30' east of
Avacha, and at this astronomical point, approximately
correct, lies Kayak Island, which is Cook's Kayes Island,
having a latitude of 59° 47' and a longitude of 56° 44'
east of Avacha, and hence the question is to prove that
this island really is the Guanahani of the Russians, that
is, St. Elias.
Cook is the authority for the opinion which has
hitherto prevailed; but surely no one can be more
uncertain and cautious on this point than he. He says:
"Müller's report of the voyage is so abbreviated, and his
map is so extremely inaccurate, that it is scarcely possible
from the one or the other, or by comparing both, to
point out a single place that this navigator either saw or
landed on. If I were to venture an opinion on Bering's
voyage along this coast, I should say that he sighted land
in the vicinity of Mt. Fairweather. But I am in no way
certain that the bay which I named in his honor is the
place where he anchored. Nor do I know whether the
mountain which I called Mt. St. Elias is the same
conspicuous peak to which he gave this name, and I am
entirely unable to locate his Cape St. Elias."
It would seem that such uncertain and reserved opinions
were scarcely liable to be repeated without comment
or criticism. But nevertheless, the few reminiscences of
this chapter of Bering's explorations which our present
geography has preserved are obtained principally from
Cook's map; for the first successors of this great
navigator, Dixon, 1785, La Pérouse, 1786, Malespina,
1791, and Vancouver, 1792, through whose efforts the
northwest coast was scientifically charted, maintained,
with a few unimportant changes, Cook's views on this
point. According to these views, Bering Bay was in
59° 18' north latitude and 139° west longitude, but Cook
had not himself explored this bay; he had simply found
indications of a bay, and hence La Pérouse and
Vancouver, whose explorations were much more in
detail, and who at this place could find no bay, were
obliged to seek elsewhere for it. La Pérouse puts Bering
Bay 10' farther south, at the present Alsekh River,
northwest of Mt. Fairweather, the lagoon-shaped mouth
of which he calls Rivière de Bering, and Vancouver was
of the opinion that in La Pérouse's Bay de Monti,
Dixon's Admiralty Bay, 59° 42' N. lat., he had found
Bering's place of landing. Vancouver's opinion has
hitherto held its own. The names Bering Bay, Admiralty
Bay, or, as the Russians call it, Yakutat, are found
side by side; the latter, however, is beginning to displace
the former, and properly so, for Bering was never in or
near this bay.[75]
While this Cook cartography fixed Bering's place of
landing too far east, the Russians committed the opposite
error. On the chart with which the Admiralty provided
Captain Billings on his great Pacific expedition, the
southern point of the Island of Montague, in Prince
William's Sound, (the Russian name of the island is
Chukli), is given as Bering's promontory St. Elias, and
the Admiralty gave him the right, as soon as the
expedition reached this point, to assume a higher military
rank, something which he actually did. But Admiral
Krusenstern, with his usual keenness, comes as near the
truth as it was possible without having Bering's own
chart and the ship's journal. He thinks that, according
to Steller's narrative, the St. Peter must have touched
America farther west than Yakutat Bay, and considers
it quite probable that their anchoring place must be
sought at one of the passages leading into Controller
Bay, either between Cape Suckling (which on Russian
maps is sometimes called Cape St. Elias) and Point
Le Mesurier, or between the islands Kayak and
Wingham. We shall soon see that this last supposition
is correct. O. Peschel has not ventured wholly to accept
Krusenstern's opinion, but he nevertheless calls attention
to the fact that Bering Bay is not correctly located. He
fixes Bering's landing place west of Kayak Island, and
contends against considering Mt. St. Elias as the
promontory seen by Bering, something which would
seem quite superfluous.[76]
This uncertainty is all the more striking, as, from
the beginning of this century, there have been accessible,
in the works of Sauer and Sarycheff, facts enough to
establish the identity of the island of St. Elias with the
present Kayak Island, and since the publication of
Bering's own map, in 1851, by the Russian Admiralty,
there can no longer be a shadow of a doubt. The map
is found in the appendix of this work, and hence a
comparison between the islands of St. Elias and Kayak
is possible (Map IV). The astronomical situation of the
islands, their position with reference to the mainland,
their surroundings, coast-lines, and geographical extension,
the depths of the sea about both—everything proves
that they are identical; and, moreover, Sauer's and
Sarycheff's descriptions, which are quite independent of
the St. Peter's journal, coincide exactly with the journal's
references to the island of St. Elias. Sauer says that the
island, from its most southerly point, extends in a northeasterly
direction ("trend north 46° east"), that it is
twelve English miles long and two and a half miles
wide, that west of the island's most northerly point there
is a smaller island (Wingham), with various islets nearer
the mainland, by which a well-protected harbor is formed
behind a bar, with about seven feet of water at ebb-tide,—hence
just at the place where Khitroff, as we have
already seen, found an available harbor for the St. Peter.
The journal, as well as Steller, describes St. Elias as
mountainous, especially in the southern part, thickly
covered with low, coniferous trees, and Waxel particularly
mentions the fact that off the coast of the island's
southern point, Bering's Cape St. Elias, there was a
single cliff in the sea, a "kekur," which is also marked
on the map. Sarycheff and Sauer speak of Kayak Island
as mountainous and heavily timbered. Its southern
extremity rises above the rest of the island and ends very
abruptly in a naked, white, saddle-shaped mountain. A
solitary cliff of the same kind of rock, a pyramid-shaped
pillar ("kekur," "Abspringer") lies a few yards from
the point. Cook, too, in his fine outlines of Kayak
Island, puts this cliff directly south of the point. If we
then consider that the true dimensions of Bering's island
plainly point to Kayak, that his course along the new
coast is possible only on the same supposition that the
direction in which Bering from his anchorage saw Mt.
St. Elias exactly coincides with this mountain's position
with reference to Kayak, that the soundings given by him
agree with those of Kayak, but do not agree with those
of Montague Island, which is surrounded by far more
considerable depths that have none of the above described
characteristics, and which, moreover, has so great a
circumference that Khitroff could not possibly have circumnavigated
it in twelve hours, and finally, considering
the fact that everything which Steller gives as
signs that a large current debouched near his anchorage
finds an obvious explanation in the great Copper
or Atna estuary, in 60° 17' N., then it will be difficult
to resist the conviction that Kayak is Bering's
St. Elias, and that Vancouver's Cape Hammond is his
Cape St. Elias.
Moreover, the traditions of the natives corroborate
this conclusion. While Billings's expedition was in Prince
William's Sound, says Sauer, an old man came on board
and related that every summer his tribe went on hunting
expeditions to Kayak.[77] Many years before, while he was
a boy, the first ship came to the island and anchored
close to its western coast. A boat was sent ashore, but
when it approached land all the natives fled, and not
until the ship had disappeared did they return to their
huts, where in their underground store-rooms they found
some beads, leaves (tobacco), an iron kettle, and some
other things. Sarycheff gives an account of this meeting,
which in the main agrees with Billings's. These
stories also agree with Steller's account.[78]
These facts have not before, so far as the author
knows, been linked together, but Sokoloff states, without
proof, however, that Bering's landfall was Kayak
Island.[79] This correct view is now beginning to find its
way into American maps, where, in the latest works,
Cape St. Elias will be found in the proper place, together
with a Bering Haven on the northern coast of Kayak.[80]
It is by no means an easy matter to form an unbiased
opinion of Bering's stay off Kayak Island. Steller
is about our only authority, but just at the point where
it is most difficult to supplement his account, he gives
vent to most violent accusations against the management
of the expedition from a scientific standpoint. On the
16th of July, when land was first seen, he says: "One
can easily imagine how happy all were to see land. No
one failed to congratulate Bering, as chief of the expedition,
to whom above all others the honor of discovery
belonged. Bering, however, heard all this, not only with
great indifference, but, looking toward land, he even
shrugged his shoulders in the presence of all on board."
Steller adds that on account of this conduct charges
might have been preferred against him in St. Petersburg,
had he lived.
As Bering during the first few succeeding days did not
make any preparations for a scientific exploration of the
country, as he even tried, according to Steller's assurance,
to dissuade the latter from making the island a visit, and
as Steller only through a series of oaths and threats (for
thus p. 30 must undoubtedly be interpreted) could obtain
permission to make, without help or even a guard for protection,
a short stay on the island, his anger grew to rage,
which reached its culmination on the following morning
when Bering suddenly gave orders that the St. Peter
should leave the island. "The only reason for this," he
says, "was stupid obstinacy, fear of a handful of natives,
and pusillanimous homesickness. For ten years Bering
had equipped himself for this great enterprise; the explorations
lasted ten hours!" Elsewhere he says derisively
that they had gone to the New World "simply to bring
American water to Asia."
These accusations must seem very serious to every
modern reader. Unfortunately for Bering, his second
voyage is of interest principally from the standpoint of
natural history. It is especially naturalists that have
studied it. They are predisposed to uphold Steller.
Hence his account threatens wholly to undermine Bering's
reputation, and as a matter of course, W. H. Dall, in discussing
this subject, finds opportunity to heap abuse upon
Bering. He says: "On the 18th of July, Bering saw
land. On the 20th he anchored under an island. Between
two capes, which he called St. Elias and St. Hermogenes,
was a bay where two boats were sent for water and to reconnoitre.
* * * With characteristic imbecility, Bering
resolved to put to sea again on the next day, the 21st of
July. Sailing to the northward, the commander was
confused among the various islands, and sailed hither
and thither, occasionally landing, but making no explorations,
and showing his total incapacity for the position
he occupied. He took to his bed, and Lieutenant Waxel
assumed charge of the vessel."[81]
This is not writing history. It is only a series of errors
and incivilities. It was not the 18th of July that Bering
first saw land. He did not sail north from Kayak, but
southwest, and hence could not have lost his course
among islands, for here there are no islands. Nor did he
sail hither and thither, but kept the course that had
been laid out, and charted the coasts he saw in this
course. The most ridiculous part of this is what this
nautical author tells of the bay between Cape St. Elias
and Cape St. Hermogenes (Marmot Island off the coast
of Kadiak Island), for these points are farther apart
than Copenhagen and Bremen. If, according to this
writer, Bering was unpardonably stupid, he must have
been, on the other hand, astonishingly "far-sighted."
After these statements it will surprise no one that this
author considers illness a kind of crime, and blames a
patient, sixty years of age, suffering with the scurvy,
for taking to his bed! If Mr. Dall had taken the trouble
to study the Bering literature to which he himself refers
in his bibliography of Alaska, he would have been in a
position to pass an independent opinion of the navigator,
and would certainly have escaped making this series of
stupid statements. His words now simply serve to show
how difficult it is to eradicate prejudice, and how tenacious
of life a false or biased judgment can be. Death
prevented Bering from defending and explaining his
conduct. No one has since that time sought to render
him justice. I therefore consider it my duty—even if
I should seem to be yielding to the biographer's besetting
sin—to produce everything that can be said in
Bering's defense.
In the first place, then, it must be remembered that
on the 21st of July Bering had provisions left for no more
than three months, and that these were not good and
wholesome. His crew, and he himself, were already suffering
from scurvy to such an extent that two weeks later
one-third of them were on the sick-list. Furthermore,
he was over fifty-six degrees of longitude from his nearest
port of refuge, with a crew but little accustomed to the
sea. The American coast in that latitude was not,
according to Bering's judgment, nor is it according to our
present knowledge, in any way a fit place to winter, and
besides, he knew neither the sea nor its islands and depths,
its currents and prevailing winds. All this could not but
urge him to make no delay. And, in fact, Steller himself
expressly says that it was a series of such considerations
that determined Bering's conduct. "Pusillanimous
homesickness" can scarcely have had any influence on
a man who from his youth had roamed about in the
world and lived half a generation in the wilds of Siberia.
"The good Commander," thus Steller expresses himself,
"was far superior to all the other officers in divining
the future, and in the cabin he once said to myself
and Mr. Plenisner: 'We think now that we have found
everything, and many are pregnant with great expectations;
but they do not consider where we have landed,
how far we are from home, and what yet may befall us.
Who knows but what we may meet trade winds that
will prevent our return? We are unacquainted with the
country, and are unprovided with provisions for wintering
here.'"
It must be conceded that his position was one fraught
with difficulties. At this point there are two things which
Steller either has not correctly understood, or suppresses.
According to his instructions, Bering was authorized to
spend two years and make two voyages in the discovery
of America, and to undertake another expedition afterwards
with new preparations and equipments. And in his
explanations to the crew he calls special attention to this
point. Under these circumstances it would not have been
right in him to assume any more risks than absolutely
necessary. But here again the old opposition between
Bering's nautico-geographical and Steller's physico-geographical
interests breaks out. As a discoverer of the old
school Bering's principal object was to determine some
elementary geographical facts: namely, the distribution
of land and water along the new coast, and hence he left
Kayak Island, not to reach Avacha as soon as possible,
but to follow the coast of the newly discovered country
toward the west and north. All authorities agree on this
point. It was illness and the Aliaska peninsula, projecting
so far into the ocean as it does, that prevented him
from sailing up toward latitude 65°, his real goal. Even
Steller testifies to this, and although he repeats his former
accusations against Bering, it does not signify anything,
as he was excluded from the councils and was obliged to
guess at what was adopted. His accusations are especially
insignificant from the fact that he definitely contradicts
himself on this point, for later on in his narrative he says
that not until the 11th of August was it resolved, on
account of the approaching autumn and the great distance
from home, to start immediately on the return voyage
to Kamchatka. That is to say, they had not then
made a start. Until the 11th of August, for three weeks
after their departure from Kayak, Bering pursued his
task of nautical discovery along the new coast, and it
would seem that he can be blamed for nothing more than
considering this work of the expedition more important
than that of the physico-geographical investigation which
Steller represented. This was but natural. It was merely
accidental that Steller accompanied Bering, and through
him the expedition received a modern cast, which was not
at all designed, and which Bering desired to make use of
only under favorable circumstances. We may regret his
haste, and we may especially regret the fact that so keen
and clever a naturalist as Steller did not get an opportunity
to explore the regions west of Mount St. Elias before
European trade and white adventurers put in an appearance;
but it hardly seems a question of doubt whether
anyone for that reason has a right to make accusations
against the chief of the expedition.
It was very early on the morning of July 21 that the
chief suddenly, and contrary to his custom, appeared on
deck and gave the command to weigh anchor and stand
out to sea. In doing this he set aside his instructions
from headquarters to act in accordance with the ship's
council. He acted as a sovereign chief, and notwithstanding
the fact that both of his lieutenants thought it
wrong to leave the newly discovered coast without an
adequate supply of water, he overruled all objections
and informed them that he assumed all responsibility for
his conduct. He was convinced of the entire necessity
of it, he said, and thought it unsafe to remain longer in
this exposed anchorage. Time did not permit him to go
in search of the harbor found by Khitroff on the day
previous, and there was moreover a seaward breeze. One
fourth of the water-casks remained unfilled.
Before a strong east wind, the St. Peter on that day
made fifty miles on a southwesterly course. During
the two succeeding days, he continued in this general
direction. It was misty, and the coast was invisible, but
the sounding-line continued to show a depth of from
forty to fifty fathoms. In a council, concerning the
deliberations of which Steller has a very confused and
incorrect account, it was decided, on July 25, to sail
slowly towards Petropavlovsk and, at intervals as wind
and weather permitted, to head for the north and west, in
order to explore the coast they had left.
They continued on their southwesterly course, and on
the next morning, July 26, they were off the Kadiak
archipelago. In a latitude of 66° 30', and about sixteen
miles toward the north, they saw a high and projecting
point, which Bering called St. Hermogenes, in honor of
the patron saint of the day. He thought that this point
was a continuation of the continent they had left behind
them, and as such it is represented on both Müller's and
Krasilnikoff's manuscript maps in the archives of the
Admiralty. On his third voyage, Cook explored the
Kadiak group, which he too had assumed to be a part of
the mainland. He now found that Bering's promontory
was a small island east of Afognak, but out of respect for
Bering, he retained the original name. Krusenstern also
calls it St. Hermogenes Island, but later the Russians
changed it to Euratchey Island, on account of the great
number of marmots there, and since the United. States
came into possession of it, the name has been translated,
and it is now known as Marmot Island.[82] Steller has not
a single word in his diary about St. Hermogenes, and
besides, his account at this point is full of inaccuracies.
"Consequently, until July 26," he says, "we sailed
along the coast, as these gentlemen thought it was
necessary to follow it, while it would have been sufficient,
at intervals of a hundred versts, to have sailed a degree or
two toward the north." He thus blames them for not
having followed the method which at about that time
they had agreed upon, and later did follow. His story
of their having, for the first five days, sailed along the
coast, simply proves, in connection with a series of other
incidents in his work, that things were not entered in his
diary daily, but written down later from memory; hence
its value as proof is considerably diminished.
Along the southeastern coast of Kadiak the voyage
was very dangerous. The average depth was twenty-five
fathoms; the water was very roily, the weather heavy with
fog and rain, and the wind violent. Not until the 31st
of July was the weather clear enough for an observation,
when they found themselves in a latitude of 54° 49', and
had passed the Kadiak archipelago.
In accordance with the plan adopted, they here veered
to the northwest to seek the mainland for the purpose of
determining its trend. On the night of August 1 (and 2),
they suddenly approached land, having only four fathoms
of water below the keel. There was a heavy fog, no wind,
and a swift current, but they succeeded in shifting about
and getting out into eighteen fathoms of water, where
they anchored to await daybreak. In the morning, at
eight o'clock, a small island was seen at a distance of four
miles. It was three miles long, with an east to west
trend. A long reef extended out into the sea from the
eastern point, seen by them in a direction E. S. E. by E.
In the evening they weighed anchor, having a heavy fog,
and on the next morning, the island was seen at a distance
of seven geographical miles toward the south. Its
latitude was calculated as 55° 32', but as all of Bering's
determinations of latitude on his return voyage from
America show an error of from 30' to 45' less than the
true latitude, it must be concluded that the island was
in latitude 56° and some minutes. He called the island
St. Stephen from the calendar day, but his crew or
lieutenants must have called it Foggy Island (Tumannoi),
as even Krasilnikoff's manuscript map, in the possession
of the Admiralty, has this name. Later the cartography
of this region became considerably confused. The name
St. Stephen disappeared. Cook called another island Fog
Island, while it became customary to consider the island
discovered by Bering as identical with Ukamok (Chirikoff
Island, Vancouver's Island), where the Russians had
a colony, and thus the island itself was finally lost to
geography. Notwithstanding the fact that Admiral
Krusenstern, in a clever essay, has given an able
review of the literature pertaining to this question,
and has shown that where Bering saw St. Stephen,
Cook, Sarycheff, and Vancouver likewise saw an island,
different from Ukamok, and regardless of the fact that
for these reasons he restored St. Stephen on his map,
Lieutenant Sokoloff, who most recently, in Russian
literature, has treated Bering's voyage to America, has
wholly disregarded Krusenstern's essay, and says that
St. Stephen is identical with Ukamok. Sokoloff's essay
is very superficial, and, compared with Krusenstern's
weighty reasons, is based on mere supposition. But,
although the map of the North Pacific, in the Russian
Admiralty (1844), has a Tumannoi Island (that is, Foggy
Island, St. Stephen) somewhat northeast of Ukamok, it
must be admitted that, until the United States undertakes
a new and careful survey of the Aliaska peninsula
and its southern surroundings, this question can not be
thoroughly decided, probable as it may be that Bering
and Krusenstern are both right.
August 3, the voyage was continued toward the northwest.
In a latitude of 56° (according to Steller) they
saw the high snow-capped mountain peaks of the Aliaska
peninsula in a direction N. N. W. by W., but on account
of stormy and foggy weather they sought, with an easterly
wind, to get back into their main course. Thus they
reached, August 4, the Jefdokjejefski Islands in a direction
S. S. E. ¾ by E., at a distance of twenty miles from
55° 45' N. These form a group of seven high and rocky
islands, which on Russian maps still bears the same name,
but in West Europe this name has been displaced, and
they are usually called the Semidi, or Semidin, Islands,
the name of the largest of the group.
On August 7, they found themselves south of the
Jefdokjejefski Islands. But now misfortunes began to
pour in upon them. They encountered adverse winds
which continued with but few interruptions during the
succeeding months. The St. Peter was tossed about on
the turbulent and unfamiliar waters of the Aleutian archipelago,
where the crew experienced an adventure so
fraught with suffering and dire events that it is quite
beyond compare in the history of discoveries. At the
same time, the scurvy got the upper hand. Bering had
a severe attack which rendered him unfit for service.
With his illness the bonds of discipline were relaxed.
Under these circumstances there was called, on the 10th
of August, an extraordinary council, in which all the
officers participated. At this meeting it was finally
decided to give up the charting of the American coast,
and immediately start out upon the direct route homeward
on parallel 52°, the latitude of Avacha. The
whole crew, from the highest to the lowest, signed this
resolution. The facts taken into consideration were that
September had been fixed as the extreme limit of time
within which to return home, and that they were then
in the middle of August. Avacha was at least 1600
miles distant, autumn was at hand with dark nights
and stormy weather, and sixteen of the crew were
already sick with the scurvy.
With a strong head-wind, in raw and foggy weather,
and now and then overtaken by fierce storms, they
worked their way slowly along until the 27th of August.
The condition of affairs on board had grown continually
worse, when it was finally announced that through carelessness
and irregularity the supply of water had been
reduced to twenty-five casks, a quantity that could not
possibly suffice for the 1200 miles which, according to
their calculations, yet remained. Hence it was necessary
once more to find land to take in water, and on the
27th the St. Peter's prow was again headed for Aliaska.
They sailed north one degree and a half, and after a
lapse of three days they reached a multitude of high
islands, behind which the coast of the mainland arose
in the distance.
August 30, the St. Peter lay at anchor off the Shumagins,
a group of thirteen treeless, barren, and rocky
islands near the coast of Aliaska. The journal gives their
situation as latitude 54° 48' N. and longitude 35° 30' E.
from Avacha. While the latitude as here determined
has the usual error, referred to several times before,
the longitude has an error of 6½°. Among these islands
the first death on board occurred. It was the sailor
Shumagin, who, on the 30th, died in the hands of his
mates as they were taking him ashore. The islands
were named in honor of him. On the whole the situation
was most deplorable. Bering had fallen away so
much in his illness that he could not stand, and the
others that were sick were carried ashore, and lay scattered
along the coast, giving this a very sad and sorrowful
aspect. Confusion and uncertainty grew apace, as
those in command could not maintain their authority.
Waxel and Khitroff, the highest in command, bandied
words, whereas the situation demanded firmness and
vigor. The only one that preserved any manner of self-possession
and forethought was Steller. He immediately
went ashore, examined the vegetation of the island,
and collected a large number of anti-scorbutic plants,
especially scurvy-grass and berries, with which, in the
course of a week, he succeeded in restoring Bering to
sufficient strength to be able to use his limbs. Through
the use of the same remedies the other sufferers were
relieved. But Steller thought also of the future. The
medicine chest contained "plasters and salves for half
an army," but only extremely few real medicines, and
hence he suggested to Lieut. Waxel, who was then in
command, that he send a number of sailors ashore to
gather anti-scorbutic plants, but this excellent and
timely advice was rejected.
Furthermore, Steller used all his influence to procure
good water. He went ashore with the sailors for this
purpose, and as they began to dip water from the first
pool they found, one, too, which was connected with
the sea during high tide, he directed them to fresh
springs a little farther in the interior, but the crew sent
some samples on board, and from there came the report
that the water was good enough. Thus it was that a
new cause of disease—in spite of Steller's protestations—was
added to all the others. The water was brackish,
and on standing in the casks became unfit for use.
On the whole the stay at the Shumagins, which was
unnecessarily prolonged, was very unfortunate. The St.
Peter lay at anchor south of them in a very exposed position.
On the evening of August 29, a fire was seen on
one of the islands, and on this account, Khitroff wished
to explore them more thoroughly, although Waxel firmly
opposed releasing both of the ship's boats under the
present dangerous circumstances. By applying to Bering,
who was in the cabin, and hardly understood the situation,
Khitroff had his way, and left the ship with the
yawl and five men. He was gone four days, during
which time the St. Peter was forced to lie at anchor,
while a favorable east wind might have carried them
several hundred miles toward home. The yawl was
dashed to pieces off one of the neighboring islands, and
no more came from the expedition than that Lieutenant
Waxel, under great difficulty, found it necessary to rescue
the six shipwrecked adventurers. Moreover, they
experienced a somewhat uninteresting clash with the
Innuit (Esquimo)[83] inhabitants of the Aliaska peninsula,
of which Müller and Steller both give a detailed account.
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]
The island upon whose shores Bering, after a voyage
of four months, was cast, was a high, rocky, and
uninviting country. The snowless mountains of Plutonic
rock, wild and jagged, arose perpendicularly out
of the sea, and deep ravines with seething mountain
streams led into the treeless interior.[86] There was snow
on only the highest peaks, and on this cold November
night the coast appeared to the shipwrecked unfortunates
in all its naked and gloomy solitude, and hence
great was their surprise on landing to find the island
teeming with animal life, yet undisturbed by human
habitation. The Commander Islands, as the group is
now called, consist of two large islands and a few rocky
islets. The most easterly of the former is Copper Island
(Mednie), about thirty-five miles long and three miles
wide, covered with high, steep, and jagged mountains,
which lie athwart the main trend of the island, S. E.
to N. W., and terminate precipitously, often perpendicularly,
with a narrow strand at the base scarcely
fifty feet wide. On a somewhat larger scale, the same
description applies to Bering Island, which, according
to Steller, is 23½ geographical miles long and nearly 3¼
wide. It is situated about 30 geographical miles from
Kamchatka, between latitude 54° 40' and 55° 25' north,
and longitude 165° 40' and 166° 40' east of Greenwich.
Only on the west coast, within the shelter of the Sea
Lion Island (Arii Kamen) and a lesser islet, is there a
fairly good harbor, where the Russians later founded
the only colony of the island, consisting of a few Aleuts
who cultivate some vegetables, but maintain themselves
principally by hunting and fishing. For this purpose
they have built, here and there on the east coast, some
earth-huts which are used only temporarily. The very
high mountains, having a trend from N. W. to S. E., almost
everywhere extend clear to the sea, and only here and
there along the mouths of the brooks do semicircular
coves recede from 700 to 1300 yards into the interior.
In Bering's day these coves or rookeries contained a
fauna entirely unmolested by human greed and love of
chase, developed according to nature's own laws, for
which reason great scientific interest attaches to the
stranding of the St. Peter. Of this animal life Steller
gives us in his various works descriptions which are unexcelled
in power and fidelity. These have made Bering's
second voyage immortal. Naturalists will again and again
turn to them. For this reason it would seem that Steller
had no ground for complaint that Bering had taken him
from his real field of investigation: Kamchatka—a complaint
made in our day by O. Peschel—for on Bering
Island he first found that field of labor and that material,
the description of which has immortalized his name.[87]
STELLER'S TRIUMPHAL ARCH.
With the exception of the Arctic fox, the higher
fauna of these islands were found exclusively among
the sea mammals. The most important furred animal
at that time was the sea-otter (Enhydra lutris, Linn.),
which lived in families on the coast during the whole
year, especially, however, in the winter. Its velvety fur
brought about 100 rubles on the Chinese border, and
hence this animal later became the object of a most eager
search. Nordenskjöld says these otters have been driven
away, not only from Bering Island, but also from other
grounds, where formerly they were slaughtered by the
thousand. This statement, however, is not entirely correct.
The sea-otter may still be found on Bering Island,
and on the adjacent Copper Island (Mednie) it is frequently
found, and is protected by just such laws as Nordenskjöld
demands for its preservation.
The greatest number of marine animals here were
found to belong to the family of eared seals (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.
BERING'S MONUMENT IN PETROPAVLOVSK.
(FROM WHYMPER.)
