In February the weather was rather more severe than the previous months, but by no means so cold as in the United States, latitude 42°. The harbors and inlets about the sound were free from ice. With all our attempts to get up amusements, the time hung heavily upon our hands, and we did little else than sleep and long for spring. The Sitcha Indians brought in excellent fresh halibut, which they exchanged for fish-hooks and old clothes. To me especially they were very friendly, and came often to my lodgings, seeming to know that I was not one of the Russians.
The waters of the neighborhood abounded with numerous and choice varieties of the finny tribe, which could be taken at all seasons of the year. The poor Russians might have fared better than they did, had they been spared from their work to catch them. Labor and exposure began to tell on them. The scurvy had killed a number of them, and many were sick. Dr. Langsdorff frequently remonstrated in their behalf, but to little purpose.
There had been much talk of late among the higher officers upon the expediency of making an expedition to California, with a view to obtaining a fresh supply of provisions, and opening, if possible, a traffic with the Spanish Mission at San Francisco. By the first of March this enterprise was resolved upon and well matured, and active preparations were made to put it into immediate execution. His Excellency, Baron von Resanoff, decided to take charge of it in person. This arrangement gave me some uneasiness, lest he should not return in time to fulfil his promise to proceed with me in May in the Juno to Ochotsk. I explained to him how great the disappointment and inconvenience would be, if my departure was delayed until late in the season. But he silenced my complaints by assuring me that he had ordered the brig Maria, Captain Maschin, to be ready to sail for Ochotsk as soon as the season would permit. With this promise I was constrained to be satisfied. By the active exertion of Lieutenants Schwostoff and Davidoff the Juno was quickly put in sailing trim, and weighed anchor on the 8th of March for San Francisco. I was invited to accompany them, but declined. Deprived of my friends and companions, I occupied myself, as best I could, in making excursions in baidarkas about the shores and harbors.
Among the domestic animals of the village—and the number was very limited, there being two old cows, eight or ten hogs, and as many dogs—there were two sheep, a buck and a ewe, which I had presented to the Governor on my first visit. The ewe in the course of the winter had been devoured by the wolves or the bears, as it was said; but I thought it more probable by some of the half-starved Russians. The buck became quite a pet with the settlers. Towards spring he began to take advantage of familiar treatment, and show many positive signs of a pugnacious disposition, and with very little respect for persons. As Billy and I were from the same country town, and appeared to be alone among strangers, I always made it a point, when I passed him, to salute him with the familiar phrase of “How are you, Billy?” and he would seem to respond by a look of recognition. It so happened, however, that one day, as I was coming from the Governor’s house upon the hill, after a good substantial dinner, and had reached the beginning of the descent where stood the sentinel with Billy at a little distance from him, I gave him the usual greeting, and began to go down, when, perfectly unconscious of having offended man or beast, I received a contusion in the rear, which sent me head-foremost down the declivity with telegraphic velocity, and with a shock which seemed to disturb my whole stowage, even to the very ground tier. I got up as soon as I could collect my scattered senses, and brushed the dust out of my eyes, when looking up the hill I saw Billy, the ram, from whom I had received the assault, making significant demonstrations of another onslaught. I had scarcely scrambled a little to one side before he came down again full charge. This time I dodged him, and, not meeting the check he expected, he went a considerable distance before he could recover himself. Still unsatisfied with the result, he was preparing to make another bolt up hill at me; but now, having the advantage of the ground, I was ready to receive him. The current was this time against him, and his headway a good deal impeded. I caught him by the neck and beat him, and endeavored to turn him off; but as soon as I let him go, he rushed upon me again. Finally, finding it impossible to get rid of him, I took a stone to increase the solidity of my fist, with which I was obliged to pound the creature till the blood ran freely. There was still no yield in him. The sentinel, who had till how been looking on,—to see fair play, I suppose,—seeing that I should probably kill him, left his post and came to the rescue. Thus ended the farcical scene of a battle between a sheep and a Wolf, in which neither could rightfully claim the victory.
April came, and no movement was made towards getting the Maria off the beach, preparatory to the voyage to Ochotsk. Captain Maschin complained that he could not get men. In fact, there was so much work to be done at the settlement, and the number of hands so much reduced by the California expedition, that it was impossible to spare laborers for the vessels. Moreover, many of them were sick, and among the healthy there were no sailors; so operations in the navigation line were suspended.
May commenced with quite pleasant and warm weather. About the 10th, the ship Okain, Captain Jonathan Winship, arrived at the sound. He came direct from the United States without any cargo, but for the express purpose of obtaining Kodiak Indians and baidarkas for a voyage to California to catch sea-otter, on the same plan I had relinquished on the sale of my ship. He made all the necessary arrangements, and sailed about the middle of the month.
The mild weather melted the snow very fast, and by the last of May the frost was all out of the ground. Governor Baranoff was desirous of having a good kitchen garden, and so, to commence the business with a sort of flourish, we made up a pretty substantial picnic party. A little way back from the shore we found a considerable clearing without underbrush, and here we staked out about two acres of land. It was good soil, deep and rich, and we all tried our hand at the spade. The Governor setting the example, we went to work with a good will. Soon getting tired, we adjourned to the refreshments, at which it was thought we showed more talent than at the spade. Some of us, they told us, got quite blue by the time we had finished our labors. This was the first ground ever broken for a garden at New Archangel. Another diversion was taking salmon, which at this season ran up into the creeks and inlets in great numbers. As many of the people as could be detached from their regular occupations were set to catching them, and curing them for winter provisions, in the manner I have before described.
While waiting impatiently for the arrival of the Juno, I made many excursions about the sound in my baidarka. About seven or eight miles from the village, there was a hot-water spring which I visited. Situated in a beautiful, romantic place, the water runs down from the foot of a high mountain, in a small serpentine rivulet, for several hundred yards, and empties into a broad basin, several rods in diameter, which has a sandy bottom. The heat of the water at its source is about 150°, and as it spreads over the basin below it cools down to 100°. It is strongly impregnated with sulphur, and with salt and magnesia.
To our great joy, on the 21st of June the Juno returned from California, with all our friends and a tolerable supply of wheat, jerked beef, English beans, &c.; but his Excellency failed to make any arrangement for the future. The Governor of San Francisco remonstrated against sending Russian subjects to hunt sea-otter on the shores and in the harbors of New Albion, and prevailed upon Baron von Resanoff to promise to put a stop to all adventures of that nature.
I immediately applied to Resanoff to know how and when he intended to fulfil his promise of providing me a passage to Ochotsk. It was now the last of June, and there were no preparations in either of the vessels for that purpose. He told me that the Juno should be got ready as soon as the little vessel could be rigged to accompany her; but the little vessel was yet on the stocks, and it did not appear to me, from the rate at which the work was progressing, that she would be in sailing order before August. In fact, I became quite alarmed, lest the season should be so far advanced that I should be obliged to make a winter journey across the Russian Empire. I had had some conversation with Dr. Langsdorff about taking the brig Russisloff, if they would allow me, and making my own way to Ochotsk. The Doctor eagerly caught at the idea, and resolved to go with me, if I could obtain her. I accordingly made the proposal to his Excellency, and it was readily accepted. He offered to put as many men to work upon the Russisloff as I needed. She was a little craft of twenty-five tons burden, built by the Russian American Company at Bhering’s Bay, and in construction a kind of nondescript. She was lying high and dry upon the beach, but, with the assistance rendered, I had her ready for sea in less than a week, well stored with a plenty of the best provisions the place afforded. My crew consisted of seven men, three of whom were Indians and natives of Alashka, making with Dr. Langsdorff, my man Parker, and myself, ten in all. I am happy to say that everything was done by the authorities to expedite my departure, and they all seemed anxious to show me every kindness and attention in their power. Having been furnished with the necessary papers for my voyage, I took leave of his Excellency Baron von Resanoff, Governor Baranoff, and my other friends, and put to sea on the 30th of June, 1806, shaping my course for the island of Kodiak.