The Polar World / A popular description of man and nature in the Arctic and Antarctic regions of the globe

by G. Hartwig

Steller was among the first to land, and probably the very first of the party who discovered the mistake of the excellent navigators to whom the expedition had been intrusted. Sea-otters came swimming to him from the land, and he well knew that these much-persecuted animals had long since disappeared from the coast of Kamchatka. The number of Arctic foxes, too, who showed no fear at his approach, and the sea-cows gambolling in the water, were sure signs that the foot of man had not often trodden this shore. Steller was also the first to set the good example of making the best of a bad situation, instead of uselessly bewailing his misfortunes. He began to erect a hut for the following winter, and formed an association with several of the crew, who, whatever might await them, promised to stand by each other.

During the following days the sick were gradually conveyed on shore. Some of them died on board as soon as they were brought into the open air, others in the boat, others as soon as they were landed. “On all sides,” says Steller, in his interesting account of this ill-fated voyage, “nothing was to be seen but misery. Before the dead could be buried, they were mangled by the foxes, who even ventured to approach the helpless invalids who were lying without cover on the beach. Some of these wretched sufferers bitterly complained of the cold, others of hunger and thirst—for many had their gums so swollen and ulcerated with the scurvy as to be unable to eat.”

“On November 13,” continues the naturalist, “I went out hunting for the first time with Messieurs Plenisner and Betge; we killed four sea-otters, and did not return before night. We ate their flesh thankfully, and prayed to God that He might continue to provide us with this excellent food. The costly skins, on the other hand, were of no value in our eyes; the only objects which we now esteemed were knives, needles, thread, ropes, etc., on which before we had not bestowed a thought. We all saw that rank, science, and other social distinctions were now of no avail, and could not in any way contribute to our preservation: we therefore resolved, before we were forced to do so by necessity, to set to work at once. We introduced among us five a community of goods, and regulated our housekeeping in such a manner as not to be in want before the winter was over. Our three Cossacks were obliged to obey our orders, when we had decided upon something in common; but we began to treat them with greater politeness, calling them by their names and surnames, and we soon found that Peter Maximowitsch served us with more alacrity than formerly Petrucha (a diminutive of Peter).

“Nov. 14.—The whole ship’s company was formed into three parties. The one had to convey the sick and provisions from the ship; the second brought wood; the third, consisting of a lame sailor and myself, remained at home—the former busy making a sledge, while I acted as cook. As our party was the first to organize a household, I also performed the duty of bringing warm soup to some of our sick, until they had so far recovered as to be able to help themselves.

“The barracks being this day ready to receive the sick, many of them were transported under roof; but for want of room, they lay everywhere on the ground, covered with rags and clothes. No one could assist the other, and nothing was heard but lamentations and curses—the whole affording so wretched a sight, as to make even the stoutest heart lose courage. On November 15 all the sick were at length landed. We took one of them, named Boris Sänd, into our hut, and by God’s help he recovered within three months.

“The following days added to our misery, as the messengers we had sent out brought us the intelligence that we were on a desert island, without any communication with Kamchatka. We were also in constant fear that the stormy weather might drive our ship out to sea, and along with it all our provisions, and every hope of ever returning to our homes. Sometimes it was impossible to get to the vessel for several days together, so boisterous was the surge; and about ten or twelve men, who had hitherto been able to work, now also fell ill. Want, nakedness, frost, rain, illness, impatience, and despair, were our daily companions.”

Fortunately the stormy sea drove the ship upon the strand, better than it could probably have been done by human efforts. Successively many of the scorbutic patients died, and on December 8 the unfortunate commander of the expedition paid his debt to nature.

Titus Bering, by birth a Dane, had served thirty-six years with distinction in the Russian navy, but age and infirmities had completely damped his energies, and his death is a warning to all who enter upon undertakings above their strength.

In the mean time the whole ship’s company had established itself for the winter in five subterranean dwellings; the general health was visibly improving, merely by means of the excellent water, and by the fresh meat furnished by sea-otters, seals, and manatees; and the only care now was to gain sufficient strength to be able to undertake the work of deliverance in spring.

In April the shipwrecked mariners began to build a smaller ship out of the timbers of the “St. Peter,” and, such was the alacrity with which all hands set to work, that on August 13 they were able to set out.