The want of the necessary conveniences obliged them for some time to make use of their food without cooking. They had nothing in the way of bread or salt. The stove within was set up after the Russian fashion, and could boil nothing. The cold was so intense, that all the wood they had was reserved for the stove; they had none to spare for making a fire outside, from which they would have had but little heat, and where they would run the risk of being attacked by the white bear. Besides, the masses of snow which fell during the winter months, and the heavy rains, would have made it quite impossible, for great part of the year, to have kept a fire burning in the open air. They, however, thought of a plan by which they were enabled to prepare some of their food. In the summer months, they exposed part of their animal food in the sun, and then hung it in the upper part of the hut, where it became thoroughly dried by the smoke. This food they used as bread, with that which they were obliged to eat half raw. By this means they were able to keep up a constant supply of provisions. They had water in the summer from the rills which fell from the rocks, and in winter, they were supplied from the snows and thawed ice. Their only utensil for holding water, and substitute for a drinking-cup, was their small kettle.
Half of the flour had been consumed by the men with their meat; the remaining portion was preserved for a different purpose. The dread of their fire going out, and of the difficulty which they should find in lighting another, without match or tinder, set their wits to work to find means to avert so great a misfortune. They obtained from the middle of the island a particular kind of slimy clay, which they had observed, and of which they modelled a sort of lamp, and filled it with the fat of the reindeer. They contrived a wick with a piece of twisted linen. When they flattered themselves that their object was accomplished, they met with a great disappointment, for the melting grease ran through the lamp. To make a new one, and to fill up the pores of the material of which it was made, was now their care. When formed, they dried it in the air, and then heated it red-hot, in which state they immersed it in their kettle, in a preparation of flour, which had been boiled down to the consistence of starch. They now tested it by filling it with melted fat, and to their infinite delight, they found that they had succeeded in fashioning one that did not leak. To make it still more secure, they covered the outside with linen dipped in the starch.
In managing to have light during the dreary months of darkness, they had attained a great object, which had been doubly desirable on account of him who was languishing in sickness. That they might not be wholly dependent on one lamp, of which some accident might deprive them, they made another. In collecting such wood as had been cast on shore for fuel, they had fortunately found some cordage and a little oakum (the sort of hemp used for calking ships), which they turned to great account as wicks for their lamps. When this store was consumed, they had recourse to their shirts and drawers—a part of dress worn by almost all Russian peasants—to supply the want. Like the sacred fire, these lamps were never suffered to go out. As they were formed soon after their arrival, they were kept burning without intermission for the years they passed in their comfortless abode.
The sacrifice made of their shirts and drawers exposed them more to the intense cold. Their shoes, boots, and other parts of their dress, were worn out. In this emergency, it was necessary to form some plan for defending themselves from the inclemency of the climate. The skins of the reindeer and foxes, which they had converted into bedding, now afforded the materials for clothing. They were submerged in fresh water for several days, till the hair was so loosened that it was easily removed; the leather was then rubbed with their hands till nearly dry, then melted reindeer fat was spread over it, and then it was again rubbed. It thus became soft, and fit for the use to which it was to be put. Some of the skins which they wished to reserve for furs did not undergo exactly the same process, but were merely left in water for one day, and were then prepared in the same manner, without removing the hair. Though now furnished with the materials for clothing, they were without the implements necessary for making them into articles of dress. They had neither awls for making shoes and boots, nor needles for sewing their clothes. Their ingenuity was, therefore, again put to the test, and was not slow in making up the deficiency. They contrived to make both very well, out of the bits of iron which they had collected from time to time. One of their most difficult tasks, was to make eyes to their needles; but this they accomplished with the help of their knife; for having ground it to a very sharp point, and heated a kind of wire, forged for the purpose, red-hot, they pierced a hole through one end, and by whetting and smoothing it on stones, brought the other to a point. These needles were astonishingly well formed, nothing being amiss with them but the roughness of the eye, by which the thread was sometimes cut. It was indeed surprising that they were so well made, considering the rude instruments with which they were fashioned. Having no scissors, they were obliged to cut out their clothes with the knife; and though this was their first attempt at the trade of shoemaker or tailor, yet they contrived to cut out the articles which they required with as much precision as if they had served a regular apprenticeship to the business. The sinews of the reindeer and bears answered for thread. They set earnestly to their work. For summer wear, they made a sort of jacket and trousers of the prepared skins; for winter, long fur-gowns, with hoods, made after the fashion of those worn by the Laplanders.
The constant employment which their necessities required, and the various difficulties which they had to overcome by ingenious contrivance, so far from having been a misfortune, may be considered as having been the means of preserving these poor men from sinking under their unhappy circumstances. But accordingly as their ingenuity had supplied their wants, and their minds became more disengaged from expedients, their melancholy increased, and they looked round despondingly on the sterile and desolate region where, they felt, they were to spend the rest of their days, far away from the hearths of home, and from early friends and companions. Even the probability of that little circle being lessened, and, it might be, reduced to one solitary being, was a dreadful thought: each felt that this might be his own fate. Then the fear of all means of sustenance failing, and the assaults of wild beasts, were dangers too glaring to be forgotten. Alexis Himkof, who had left a wife and three children, suffered perhaps the most from heart-yearnings after home.
They had already lost one of their companions from the effects of scurvy; and now, when six dreary years had nearly passed, another was taken from among them. It chanced on the 15th of August 1749, while they were lamenting their poor companion, that they descried a vessel. Who can describe the tumults of their feelings, the fluttering of their hearts? Their fate hung upon a chance. Oh, if she would come to relieve them! oh, if they could pass once more those rude barriers of ice, and cut through those interminable waves again! But she might pass on, and leave them to a fate rendered still more miserable by the fallacious gleam of hope. With trembling haste they ran hither and thither, and almost flew to light the signal-fires of distress along the hills, and now to the beach, to wave the rude flag, formed of a reindeer's skin fastened to a pole. What agitating hopes and fears were crowded into that space of time, as the vessel made her way through the waters! The signals of distress were seen—were heeded! She comes! she comes! and now she anchors near the shore. What a day of joy and thankfulness! But the delight of the poor mariners may be more easily conceived than described. Their bargain with the master of the ship—a Russian vessel—was soon made: they were to work for him on the voyage, and they agreed to pay eighty rubles on landing. He took them on board with all their possessions, consisting of two thousand pounds of the lard of the reindeer in the hides of those animals, and of the white and blue foxes, and the skins of the ten white bears that they had destroyed. They also took with them their bow and arrows, and all the implements which they had manufactured. These were deposited in a bone box, made with great ingenuity, with no tool but their knife. We have in these men a very remarkable example of the energy which can sustain in the most trying circumstances, and the ingenious skill which can furnish expedients, even in a region so destitute of resources. It may well teach us to trust in that good Providence which is indeed a present help in trouble.
They reached Archangel on the 28th of September 1749. What happy meetings may have been anticipated!—what calamities may have been dreaded during that voyage!—How may it have fared with those who were left? Will they all be there, to greet with a joyful welcome? What if Alexis' wife, worn out by suspense and anxiety, should have sunk into an early grave?—or if one among their children should have died?—or if the three should all have been swept away? The approaching sail had been seen; and the one who for years had clung to a forlorn-hope, was again at the water's edge. Alexis stood on the deck. Affection is quick-sighted; he was instantly seen and known by his wife! All was forgotten—all but that he was there. The distance between them, the waves that separated them, were unheeded! Uttering a wild cry of joy, she rushed forward to clasp him in her arms. She sprang into the water—a little time, and she was extricated. She was insensible when taken up. When she came to herself, she was in her husband's arms!—their children were about them! What tears of joy were shed!—what prayers of thankfulness were offered up!
The foregoing narrative, true in every respect, is drawn up by us from documents issued under the authority of the Russian government. It shews, in a convincing manner, that subsistence is by no means impossible for sailors wrecked and icebound within the polar regions.