Some may have an interest in the story of the quaint, quiet, beautiful village on the shore of Baranof Island. I hope this may add something to history, keeping the events of the past bright in the memory of those who love the Northland and its story, and add a little of interest and information of the present to those who come as transient visitors to while away a few days among the myriad islands of the Sitkan Archipelago. It is a link to connect the Sitka of the past, the Novo Arkangelsk of the great Russian American Company in the romantic days of the fur trade when it was the center of the vast domain of Russian America and gathered to its magazines the pelts of sea-otter and fox, with the Sitka of today with its fisheries and mines. The old landmarks are fast disappearing, scarce a year passes without some monument passing away, and even their location will soon be forgotten unless some record is made for those who do not know where they stood.
SITKA
THE HISTORIC OUTPOST OF THE
NORTHWEST
CHAPTER I
DISCOVERY
Sitka of the Russians, a century ago, was the center of trade and civilization on the Northwest Coast of America, the chief factory of the Russian American Company in the vast and little known land of the Russian Possessions in America. The sails of ships from far off Kronstadt on the Baltic brought Russian cargoes. The famous clipper ships of New England made it a stopping place on their way to the China seas. English traders and explorers visited it on their voyages, and in it was centered the trade of a wide region. It was the chief factory of the greatest rival in the fur trade of the world, with which the Honourable, the Hudson’s Bay Company, which then was the controlling power in the English fur market, had to contend.
The story of Sitka goes back past the middle of the Eighteenth Century. There are Russians, Spanish, English, French and Americans who have woven each their own part of the web of the tale, and the scenes have been as varied and strange as the people.
July 16, 1741, a Russian ship stood into a broad harbor on the Northwest Coast of America. The commander, Captain Alexei Chirikof, had sailed three thousand miles across the unknown Pacific from the shores of the Okhotsk Sea. Civilized eyes had never before rested on these shores and he was keen with the excitement of adventure and discovery as he dropped anchor. He sent a party ashore in the ship’s longboat to explore, and awaited the result. Days passed and no word or signal came, so the remaining boat was sent to recall the party and it was swallowed up in the labyrinth among the green islands. Signals indicated that it safely landed but none returned to the ship although the orders were imperative that both boats return at once. The last boat was gone. Three weeks passed. Captain Chirikof could not reach the shore and could no longer lie at anchor, so reluctantly and sadly he set his course for the far off Kamchatkan shores and sailed away from the port of missing men.