Unimportant as was the place where we now landed, a change is always agreeable after a long voyage; and the kind and hospitable reception we met with from the commander as well as the inhabitants, contributed greatly to our enjoyments.
We were gratified with a bear-hunt, which produced much sport, and gave us the satisfaction of killing a large and powerful bear. This animal is very numerous here, and is consequently easily met with by a hunting-party. The usually timid Kamtschatkan attacks them with the greatest courage. Often armed only with a lance and a knife, he endeavours to provoke the bear to the combat; and when it rises on its hind legs for defence or attack, the hunter rushes forward, and, resting one end of the lance on the ground, plunges the other into its breast, finally dispatching it with his knife. Sometimes, however, he fails in the attempt, and pays for his temerity with his life.
The following anecdote evinces the hardihood of the bears. Fish, which forms their chief nourishment, and which they procure for themselves from the rivers, was last year excessively scarce. A great famine consequently existed among them, and instead of retiring to their dens, they wandered about the whole winter through, even in the streets of St. Peter and St. Paul. One of them finding the outer gate of a house open, entered, and the gate accidentally closed after him. The woman of the house had just placed a large tea-machine,[1] full of boiling water, in the court, the bear smelt to it and burned his nose; provoked at the pain, he vented all his fury upon the kettle, folded his fore-paws round it, pressed it with his whole strength against his breast to crush it, and burnt himself, of course, still more and more. The horrible growl which rage and pain forced from him, brought all the inhabitants of the house and neighbourhood to the spot, and poor bruin was soon dispatched by shots from the windows. He has, however, immortalized his memory, and become a proverb amongst the town's people, for when any one injures himself by his own violence, they call him "the bear with the tea-kettle."
On the 14th of July, M. Preuss observed an eclipse of the sun, from which he determined the geographical longitude of St. Peter and St. Paul to be 201° 10' 31". On the same day Dr. Siegwald and Messrs. Lenz and Hoffman happily achieved the Herculean task of climbing the Owatscha Mountain, which lies near the harbour. Its height, according to barometrical measurement, is seven thousand two hundred feet. An intermittent smoke arose from its crater, and a cap let down a few feet within it was drawn up burnt. The gentlemen brought back with them some pieces of crystallized sulphur, as evidence of their having really pursued their examination quite into the mouth of the crater.
After having delivered all the articles which we had taken in for Kamtschatka, we left the harbour of St. Peter and St. Paul on the morning of the 20th of July, and with favouring breezes sailed for the Russian settlement of New Archangel, on the north-west coast of America.
At sunset the majestic mountains of Kamtschatka appeared for the last time within our horizon, and at a vast distance. This despised and desolate country may perhaps one day become a Russian Mexico. The only treasure of which we robbed it was, a swallow's nest! I mention it, because it long supplied the whole ship's company with amusement.
In the harbour of St. Peter and St. Paul, there is sufficient depth of water close to the shore to admit of landing by means of a plank only. This proximity led a pair of swallows to mistake our frigate for a building upon terra-firma, and to the infinite delight of the sailors, who regarded it as a lucky omen, they deliberately built themselves a nest close to my cabin. Undisturbed by the noise in the ship, the loving pair hatched their brood in safety, fed their young ones with the tenderest care, and cheered them with joyous songs. But when on a sudden they saw their peaceful dwelling removing from the land, they seemed astonished, and hovered anxiously about the ship, yet still fetched food for their young from the shore, till the distance became too great.
The struggle between the instincts of self-preservation and parental love then became perceptible. They flew round the vessel, then vanished for awhile, then suddenly returned to their hungry family, and stretching their open beaks towards them, seemed to lament that no food was to be found. This alternate disappearing and returning continued some time, and terminated in the parents returning no more; the sailors then took on themselves the care of the deserted orphans. They removed them from the nest where the parents warmth was necessary, to another lined with cotton, and fixed in a warm place, and fed them with flies, which seemed to please their palates very well. The system at first appeared to have perfectly succeeded, and we were in hopes of carrying them safely to America; when, in spite of the most careful attention, they fell sick, and on the eighth day, to the general sorrow, not one of our nurslings remained alive.
They however afforded an additional proof how kindly the common people of Russia are interested in all that is helpless.