[82] Note 63.
[83] For a full description of these people see H. H. Bancroft, Native Races, Vol. I.—Tr.
[CHAPTER XVIII.]
THE DISCOVERY OF THE ALEUTIAN ISLANDS.—TERRIBLE HARDSHIPS OF THE VOYAGE.—STELLER'S FAULT-FINDING.—BERING CONFINED TO HIS CABIN.—DEATHS ON BOARD FROM EXHAUSTION AND DISEASE.—BERING ISLAND DISCOVERED.—A NARROW ESCAPE.
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.