“When we were all embarked,” says Steller, “we first perceived how much we should be inconvenienced for want of room; the water-casks, provisions, and baggage taking up so much space, that our forty-two men (the three ship’s officers and myself were somewhat better off in the cabin) could hardly creep between them and the deck. A great quantity of the bedding and clothing had to be thrown overboard. Meanwhile we saw the foxes sporting about our deserted huts, and greedily devouring remnants of fat and meat.
“On the 14th, in the morning, we weighed anchor, and steered out of the bay. The weather being beautiful, and the wind favorable, we were all in good spirits, and, as we sailed along the island, pointed out to each other the well-known mountains and valleys which we had frequently visited in quest of game or for the purpose of reconnoitring. Towards evening we were opposite the farthest point of the island, and on the 15th, the wind continuing favorable, we steered direct towards the Bay of Avatscha. About midnight, however, we perceived, to our great dismay, that the vessel began to fill with water from an unknown leak, which, in consequence of the crowded and overloaded state of the vessel, it was extremely difficult to find out. The pumps were soon choked by the shavings left in the hold, and the danger rapidly increased, as the wind was strong and the vessel badly built. The sails were immediately taken in; some of the men removed the baggage to look for the leak, others kept continually pouring out the water with kettles, while others again cast all superfluous articles overboard. At length, after the lightening of the ship, the carpenter succeeded in stopping the leak, and thus we were once more saved from imminent danger.... On the 17th we sighted Kamchatka, but as the wind was contrary, we did not enter the harbor before the evening of the 27th.
“In spite of the joy we all felt at our deliverance, yet the news we heard on our arrival awakened in us a host of conflicting emotions. We had been given up for lost, and all our property had passed into other hands, and been mostly carried away beyond hope of recovery. Hence joy and sorrow alternated within a few moments in our minds, though we were all so accustomed to privation and misery, as hardly to feel the extent of our losses.”
In the year 1744 Steller was ordered to return to St. Petersburg; but his candor had made him powerful enemies. Having reached Novgorod, and rejoicing in the idea of once more mixing with the civilized world, he was suddenly ordered to appear before the imperial court of justice at Irkutsk, on the charge of having treacherously sold powder to the enemies of Russia. Thus obliged to return once more into the depths of Siberia, he was at length dismissed by his judges, after waiting a whole year for their verdict.
Once more on his way to St. Petersburg, he had already reached Moscow, when he was again summoned to appear without delay before the court of Irkutsk. A journey to Siberia is, under all circumstances, an arduous undertaking; what, then, must have been Steller’s feelings when, instead of enjoying the repose he had so well merited, he saw himself obliged to retrace his steps for the fourth time, for the purpose of vindicating his conduct before a rascally tribunal? On a very cold day his Cossack guards stopped to refresh themselves with some brandy at an inn by the road-side, and Steller, who remained in the sledge waiting for their return, fell asleep, and was frozen to death.
He lies buried near the town of Tjumen, and no monument apprises the naturalist, whom the love of knowledge may lead into the Siberian wilds, that his unfortunate predecessor was thus basely requited after years of exertion in the interests of science.
90. CHURCH AT PETROPAVLOSK.