WRANGELL.
His distinguished Services as an Arctic Explorer.--From
Petersburg to Jakutsk in 1820.--Trade of Jakutsk.--From
Jakutsk to Nishne-Kolymsk.--The Badarany.--Dreadful Climate of
Nishne-Kolymsk.--Summer Plagues.--Vegetation.--Animal Life.--
Reindeer-hunting.--Famine.--Inundations.--The Siberian Dog.--
First Journeys over the Ice of the Polar Sea, and Exploration of
the Coast beyond Cape Shelagskoi in 1821.--Dreadful Dangers and
Hardships.--Matiuschkin’s Sledge-journey over the Polar Sea in
1822.--Last Adventures on the Polar Sea.--A Run for Life.--
Return to St. Petersburg.
The expeditions which had been sent out during the reign of the Empress
Anna for the exploration of the Arctic shores of Eastern Siberia, had
performed their task so badly as to leave them still almost totally
unknown. To fill up this blank in geography, the Emperor Alexander
ordered two new expeditions to be fitted out in 1820 for the purpose of
accurately ascertaining the limits of these extreme frontiers of his
immense empire. Of the one which, under Lieutenant Anjou, commenced
its operations from the mouth of the Jana, and comprised within its
range New Siberia and the other islands of the Lächow group, but
little has been communicated to the public, all his papers having
been accidentally burned; but the travels of Lieutenant von Wrangell,
the commander of the second expedition, have obtained a world-wide
celebrity. Starting from the mouths of the Kolyma, he not only
rectified the errors of the coast-line of Siberia, from the Indigirka
in the west to Koliutschin Island in the east, but more than once
ventured in a sledge upon the Polar Ocean, in the hopes of discovering
a large country supposed to be situated to the northward of Kotelnoi
and New Siberia.
Wrangell left St. Petersburg on March 23, 1820, and experiencing in
his journey of 3500 miles repeated alternations of spring and winter,
arrived at Irkutsk, where the gardens were in full flower, on May 20.
After a month’s rest, a short journey brought him to the banks of the
Lena, on which he embarked on June 27, to descend to Jakutsk, which
he reached on July 27. This small town of 4000 inhabitants bears the
gloomy stamp of the frigid north, for though it has a few good houses,
its dwellings chiefly consist of the winter yourts of the Jakuts, with
turf-covered roofs, doors of skins, and windows of talc or ice. The
only “sight” of this dreary place is the old ruinous ostrog or wooden
fort built by the Cossacks, the conquerors of the country, in 1647.
Jakutsk is the centre of the interior trade of Siberia. To this place
are brought, in enormous quantities, furs of all kinds, walrus-teeth,
and mammoth-tusks, from distances of many thousand versts, to an amount
of half a million pounds.
The commercial sphere of the Jakutsk merchants is of an immense extent.
During a cold of ten and twenty degrees they set out for the Lächow
Isles, for the fair of Ostrownoje, for Ochotsk, or Kjachta. Jakutsk
merchants were the first who ventured in crazy ships across the Sea
of Kamchatka, and discovered the island of Kadjiak, eighty degrees of
longitude from their home.
On September 12 Wrangell left Jakutsk, where regular travelling ends,
as from thence to Kolymsk, and generally throughout Northern Siberia,
there are no beaten roads. The utmost that can be looked for are foot
or horse tracks leading through morasses or tangled forests, and over
rocks and mountains. Travellers proceed on horseback through the hilly
country, and, on reaching the plains, use sledges drawn either by
reindeer or dogs.
In this manner Wrangell crossed from the basin of the Lena to that
of the Yana, never experiencing a higher temperature than +2°, and
frequently enduring a cold of more than -12°, during the journey
over the intervening hills, and then turning eastward, traversed the
Badarany, a completely uninhabited desert, chiefly consisting of
swamps. These Badarany never entirely dry up, even after the longest
summer-drought. At that time a solid crust is formed, through which the
horses frequently break, but they are preserved from totally sinking
in the mire by the perpetually frozen underground. Nothing can be more
dismal and dreary than the Badarany. As far as the eye reaches, nothing
is to be seen but a covering of dingy moss, relieved here and there
on some more elevated spots by wretched specimens of dwarf-larches.
The winter is the only season for traversing this treacherous waste,
but woe to the traveller should he be overtaken by a snow-storm, as
for miles and miles there is no shelter to be found but that of some
ruinous powarni, or post-station.
At length, fifty-two days after leaving Jakutsk, Wrangell arrived
on November 2 at Nishne-Kolymsk, the appointed head-quarters of the
expedition, where he was welcomed with a cold of -40°, or 72° below the
freezing-point of water.
Even in Siberia the climate of this place is ill-reputed for its
severity, which is as much due to its unfavorable position as to its
high latitude (68° N.). The town stands on a low swampy island of the
Kolyma, having on the west the barren tundra, and on the north the
Arctic Ocean, so that the almost constant north-west winds have full
scope for their violence, and cause frequent snow-storms even in summer.
The mean temperature of the whole year is only +14°. The river at
Nishne-Kolymsk freezes early in September, but lower down, where the
current is less rapid, loaded horses can sometimes cross on the ice as
early as August 20, nor does the ice ever melt before June.
Although the sun remains fifty-two days above the horizon, the light,
obscured by almost perpetual mists, is accompanied with little heat,
and the solar disc, compressed by refraction into an elliptical form,
may be looked at with the naked eye without inconvenience. In spite of
the constant light, the common order of the parts of the day is plainly
discernible. When the sun sinks down to the horizon, all nature is
mute; but when, after a few hours, it rises in the skies, every thing
awakens, the few little birds break out in feeble twitter, and the
shrivelled flowers venture to open their petals.
Although winter and summer are in reality the only seasons, yet the
inhabitants fancy they have spring when about noon the rays of the sun
begin to make themselves felt, which generally takes place about the
middle of March, but this so-called spring has frequent night-frosts
of twenty degrees. Their autumn is reckoned from the time when the
rivers begin to freeze over, that is, from the first days of September,
when a cold of thirty degrees is already by no means uncommon. As may
easily be supposed in a climate like this, the vegetation of summer is
scarcely more than a struggle for existence.
In the latter end of May the stunted willow-bushes put out little
wrinkled leaves, and those banks which slope towards the south become
clothed with a semi-verdant hue; in June the temperature at noon
attains 72°; the flowers show themselves, and the berry-bearing plants
blossom, when sometimes an icy blast from the sea destroys the bloom.
The air is clearest in July, and the temperature is usually mild,
but then a new plague arises for the torment of man. Millions and
millions of mosquitoes issue from the swamps of the tundra, and compel
the inhabitants to seek refuge in the dense and pungent smoke of the
“dymokury,” or large heaps of fallen leaves and damp wood, which are
kindled near the dwellings and on the pasture-grounds, as the only
means of keeping off those abominable insects.
These tormentors, however, are not without use, for they compel the
reindeer to migrate from the forests to the sea-shore and the ice, thus
exposing them to the attack of the hunters, and they also prevent the
horses from straying in the plains, and wandering beyond the protection
of the smoke.
Scarcely is the mosquito plague at an end, when the dense autumn fogs
rising from the sea spoil the enjoyment of the last mild hours which
precede the nine months’ winter. In January the cold increases to -45°;
breathing then becomes difficult; the wild reindeer, the indigenous
inhabitant of the Polar region, withdraws to the thickest part of the
forest, and stands there motionless, as if deprived of life.
With the 22d November begins a night of thirty-eight days, relieved
in some degree by the strong refraction and the white of the snow, as
well as by the moon and the aurora. On the 28th December the first pale
glimmering of dawn appears, which even at noon does not obscure the
stars. With the re-appearance of the sun the cold increases, and is
most intense in February and March at the rising of the sun. Even in
winter completely clear days are very rare, as the cold sea-wind covers
the land with mists and fogs.
The character of the vegetation corresponds with that of the climate.
Moss, stunted grass, dwarfish willow-shrubs, are all that the place
produces. The neighboring valleys of the Aniuj, protected by mountains
against the sea-wind, have a somewhat richer flora, for here grow
berry-bearing plants, the birch, the poplar, absinthe, thyme, and the
low-creeping cedar. This poverty, however, of the vegetable world is
strongly contrasted with the profusion of animal life over these shores
and on the Polar Sea. Reindeer, elks, bears, foxes, sables, and gray
squirrels fill the upland forests, while stone-foxes burrow in the
low grounds. Enormous flights of swans, geese, and ducks arrive in
spring, and seek deserts where they may moult and build their nests in
safety. Eagles, owls, and gulls pursue their prey along the sea-coast;
ptarmigan run in troops among the bushes; little snipes are busy
among the brooks. In the morasses the crows gather round the huts of
the natives; and when the sun shines in spring, the traveller may
even sometimes hear the note of the finch, and in autumn that of the
thrush. But the landscape remains dreary and dead; all denotes that
here the limits of the habitable earth are passed, and one asks with
astonishment what could induce human beings to take up their abode in
so comfortless a region?
In the district of Kolymsk, which surpasses in size many a European
kingdom, the population, at the time of Wrangell’s visit, consisted
of 325 Russians, 1034 Jakuts, and 1139 Jukahires of the male sex, of
whom 2173 had to pay the _jassak_, consisting of 803 fox and 28 sable
skins, worth 6704 roubles, besides which they were taxed to the amount
of 10,847 roubles in money. Thus the Russian double-eagle made, and no
doubt still makes, the poor people of Kolymsk pay rather dear for the
honor of living under the protection of its talons.
The Cossacks, in virtue of their descent from the original conquerors
of the country, enjoy the enviable privilege of being tax free; they
are, however, obliged to render military service when required. They
form the small garrison of Nishne-Kolymsk, and every year twenty-five
of them repair to the fair of Ostrownoje, to keep the wild Tchuktchi
in check. The Russians are chiefly the descendants of fur-hunters or
of exiles; and though they have adopted the native clothing and mode
of life, they are still distinguishable by their more muscular frame.
The women, who are somewhat better-looking than the female Jakuts and
Jukahires, are fond of music, and their traditional songs dwell on
the beauties of nature--the rustling brook, the flowery mead, the
nightingale’s note--all things belonging to a world of which they have
no idea.
The dwellings of the Russians are hardly to be distinguished from the
yourts of the native tribes. They are made of drift-wood, and, as
may easily be imagined, are very small and low. The interstices are
carefully stopped up with moss, and the outside is covered with a thick
layer of clay. An external mud wall rises to the height of the roof
to keep off the wind. In a hut like this Wrangell spent many a winter
month, but when the cold was very intense, he was not able to lay aside
any part of his fur clothing, though sitting close to a large fire.
When he wanted to write he had to keep the inkstand in hot water; and
at night, when the fire was allowed to go out for a short time, his
bedclothes were always covered with a thick snow-like rime.
The existence of the people of Kolymsk depends upon fishing and
hunting, in which they are assisted by their dogs. These faithful, but
cruelly-treated animals, are said to resemble the wolf, having long,
pointed, projecting noses, sharp and upright ears, and long bushy
tails. Their color is black, brown, reddish-brown, white, and spotted,
their howling that of a wolf. In summer they dig holes in the ground
for coolness, or lie in the water to escape the mosquitoes; in winter
they burrow in the snow, and lie curled up, with their noses covered
with their bushy tails. The preparation of these animals for a journey
must be carefully attended to; for a fortnight at least they should be
put on a small allowance of hard food, to convert their superfluous
fat into firm flesh; they must also be driven from ten to twenty miles
daily, after which they have been known to travel a hundred miles a
day without being injured by it. A team consists commonly of twelve
dogs, and it is of importance that they should be accustomed to draw
together. The quick and steady going of the team, as well as the safety
of the traveller, mainly depends on the docility and sagacity of the
foremost dog or leader. No pains are therefore spared in his education,
so that he may understand and obey his master’s orders, and prevent the
rest from starting off in pursuit of the stone-foxes or other animals
that may chance to cross their path. Their usual food is frozen fish,
and ten good herrings are said to be a proper daily allowance for each
dog while on duty. When not actively employed, they are obliged to
content themselves with offal, and towards spring, when the winter’s
provisions are generally exhausted, they suffer the keenest hunger.
This season is also a hard time for the wandering tribes of the
neighborhood. Then they flock to Nishne-Kolymsk, and to the other
Russian settlements on the Kolyma, but here also famine stares them in
the face. There is, indeed, a public corn magazine, but the price of
flour is raised by the cost of transport to such an exorbitant height,
as to be completely beyond the reach of the majority of the people.
Three such dreadful springs did Wrangell pass at Kolymsk, witnessing
scenes of misery never to be forgotten.
But when the distress of the people has reached its highest point,
relief is generally at hand. Troops of migratory birds come from the
south, and furnish some food for the despairing population. The supply
is increased in June, when the ice breaks on the Kolyma, for in spite
of the faultiness of the nets and the want of skill of the fishermen,
the river is the principal source of plenty during the summer, and
supplies, moreover, the chief provisions for the following winter. But
with these gifts the Kolyma brings the plague of inundations, so that
during the summer of 1822 Wrangell was obliged to spend a whole week on
the flat roof of his hut.
The chief resource of the Jukahires of the River Aniuj is the reindeer
chase, the success of which mainly decides whether famine or some
degree of comfort is to be their lot during the coming winter. The
passage of the reindeer takes place twice a year; in spring, when the
mosquitoes compel them to seek the sea-shore, where they feed on the
moss of the tundra, and in autumn, when the increasing cold forces them
to retire from the coast. The spring migration, which begins about
the middle of May, is not very profitable, partly because the animals
are meagre, and their furs in bad condition, and partly because it is
more difficult to kill them as they pass the frozen rivers. The chief
hunting is in August and September, when the herds, consisting each of
several thousand deer, return to the forests. They invariably cross the
river at a particular spot, where a flat sandy bank makes their landing
easier; and here they press more closely together, under the guidance
of the strongest animals of the herd.
The passage takes place after some hesitation, and in a few minutes the
river is covered with swimming reindeer. The hunters, hidden in creeks
or behind stones and bushes, now shoot forth in their small boats and
wound as many as they can. While they are thus busy, they run some risk
of being overturned in the turmoil, for the bucks defend themselves
with their horns, their teeth, and their hind legs, while the roes
generally attempt to spring with their fore feet upon the edge of the
boat. When the hunter is thus overset, his only chance of safety is
to cling to a strong animal, which safely brings him to the shore.
But the dexterity of the hunters renders such accidents rare. A good
hunter will kill a hundred reindeer and more in half an hour. In the
mean time the other boats seize the killed animals, which become their
property, while those that are merely wounded and swim ashore belong to
the hunters, who, in the midst of the tumult, where all their energies
are taxed to the utmost, direct their strokes in such a manner as only
severely to wound the larger animals. The noise of the horns striking
against each other, the waters tinged with blood, the cries of the
hunters, the snorting of the affrighted animals, form a scene not to be
described.
The people of the Aniuj were already suffering great distress when,
on September 12, 1821, the eagerly-expected reindeer herds made their
appearance on the right bank of the river. Never had such a multitude
been seen; they covered the hills, and their horns might have been
mistaken at a distance for a moving forest. In a short time numbers
of the Siberian tribes had assembled, ready to destroy them. But the
wary animals, alarmed by some circumstance or other, took another road,
and, leaving the banks of the river, vanished on the mountains. The
despair of the people may be imagined; some lamented aloud and wrung
their hands, others threw themselves upon the ground and scratched up
the snow, others stood motionless like statues--a dreadful image of
the universal misery. The later fishing-season likewise failed in this
deplorable year, and many hundreds died in the following winter.
While the men of Kolymsk are busily employed during the short summer in
hunting, fishing, and hay-making, the women wander over the country,
particularly in the mountains, to gather edible roots, aromatic
herbs, and berries of various kinds, which latter, however, do not
every year arrive at maturity. The berry-gathering here, like the
vintage elsewhere, is a time of merriment. The younger women and girls
go together in large parties, passing whole days and nights in the
open air. When the berries are collected, cold water is poured over
them, and they are preserved in a frozen state for a winter treat.
Social parties are not unknown at Kolymsk, and are perhaps not less
entertaining than in more refined communities. Floods of weak tea (for
the aromatic leaves “which cheer, but not inebriate,” are very dear at
Kolymsk) form the staple of the entertainment; and as sugar is also an
expensive article, every guest takes a lump of candy in his mouth, lets
the tea which he sips flow by, and then replaces it upon the saucer. It
would be considered very unmannerly were he to consume the whole piece,
which thus is able to do duty at more than one _soirée_. Next to tea,
brandy is a chief requisite of a Kolymsk party.
The busiest time at Kolymsk is in February, when the caravan from
Jakutsk arrives on its way to the fair of Ostrownoje. It consists of
about twenty merchants, each of whom leads from ten to forty sumpter
horses. This is the time not only for sale and purchase, but also
for hearing the last news from the provincial capital Jakutsk, and
receiving intelligence six months old from Moscow and St. Petersburg.
From this short account of Kolymsk life it may well be imagined what
a sensation it must have made in so secluded a place when Wrangell
arrived there in November, and informed the people that he was come to
spend the better part of the next three years among them.
The winter was passed in preparation for the next spring expeditions,
for during the long Arctic night the darkness prevents travelling, and
the snow acquires a peculiar hardness or sharpness from the extreme
cold, so that then four times the number of dogs would be needed. But
as in summer the thawing is likewise a hindrance, Wrangell had in
reality only about ten weeks every year, from March till the end of
May, for the accomplishment of his task.
As may easily be supposed, it was no easy matter to make the necessary
arrangements for an expedition requiring some hundreds of dogs, and
provisions for several weeks; but such was the energy displayed by
Wrangell and his colleagues, that on February 19, 1821, they were able
to start on their first journey over the ice of the Polar Sea, which
they reached on the 25th. Nine sledges, with the usual team of twelve
dogs to each, were provided for the present excursion, six of which
were to carry provisions and stores, to be distributed in different
dépôts, and then to return. The provisions for the dogs consisted of
2400 fresh herrings, and as much “jukola” as was equivalent to 8150
dried herrings. The increasing cold and the violence of the wind made
travelling very difficult. To guard the dogs from being frozen, the
drivers were obliged to put clothing on their bodies, and a kind of
boots on their feet, which greatly impeded their running. At times
the frost was so intense that the mercury congealed while Wrangell
was making his observations. He thus describes the manner in which he
passed the nights on the Polar Sea in his tent:--
“Between tea and supper the sledge-drivers went out to attend and
feed their dogs, which were always tied up for the night, lest they
should be tempted away by the scent of some wild animal. Meanwhile, we
were engaged in comparing our observations, and in laying down on the
map the ground which we had gone over in the course of the day; the
severe cold, and the smoke which usually filled the tent, sometimes
made this no easy task. Supper always consisted of a single dish of
fish or meat soup, which was boiled for us all in the same kettle,
out of which it was eaten. Soon after we had finished our meal, the
whole party lay down to sleep. On account of the cold we could not lay
aside any part of our travelling-dress, but we regularly changed our
boots and stockings every evening, and hung those we had taken off,
with our fur caps and gloves, on the tent-poles to dry. This is an
essential precaution, particularly in respect to stockings, for with
damp clothing there is the greatest risk of the part being frozen. We
always spread the bear-skins between the frozen ground and ourselves,
and the fur coverings over us, and, being well tired, we usually slept
very soundly. As long as all the sledge-drivers continued with us, we
were so crowded that we had to place ourselves like the spokes of a
wheel, with our feet towards the fire and our heads against the tent
wall. In the morning we generally rose at six, lit the fire, and washed
ourselves before it with fresh snow; we then took tea, and immediately
afterwards dinner (which was similar to the supper of the night
before). The tent was then struck, and every thing packed and stowed on
the sledges, and at nine we usually took our departure.”
The chief impediments to journeying on the ice were found to be the
hummocks, often eighty feet high, which lie in ridges at certain
distances, parallel perhaps to the shore. Along the line or lines
where the ice is periodically broken, it is forced by pressure and the
tossing of a tempestuous sea into those irregular ridges through which
Wrangell had sometimes to make a way with crowbars for half a mile. The
“polinyas,” or spaces of open water in the midst of the ice, offered
less hindrance, as they might be avoided; but in this neighborhood, and
sometimes even where no hole in the ice was visible, layers of salt
were met with, which cut the dogs’ feet, and at the same time increased
the labor of the draft, the sledges moving over the salt with as much
difficulty as they would over gravel.
In spite of all these hindrances, Wrangell extended his exploration
of the coast fifty versts beyond Cape Shelagskoi, where the want of
fuel and provisions compelled him to return. The dépôts which he had
made as he advanced, were found partly devoured by the stone-foxes and
gluttons, so that the party was compelled to fast during the two last
days of the journey. After an absence of three weeks Nishne-Kolymsk
appeared like a second Capua to Wrangell, but time being precious he
allowed himself but a few days’ rest, and started afresh, on March
26, for Cape Shelagskoi, with the intention of penetrating as far
as possible to the north on the ice of the Polar Sea. The caravan
consisted of twenty-two sledges, laden with fuel and provisions for
thirty days, including food for 240 dogs. So imposing a train had
certainly never been seen before in these desolate regions, for the
part of the coast between the Kolyma and Cape Shelagskoi is wholly
uninhabited; on one side the occasional excursions of the Russians
terminate at the Baranow rocks, and on the other the Tchuktchi do not
cross the larger Baranow River. The intervening eighty versts of coast
are never visited by either party, but considered as neutral ground. On
April 1 Wrangell reached the borders of the Polar Sea, and proceeding
northward to 71° 31´, found the thickness of the ice, which he measured
by means of a hole, to be about a foot, very rotten, and full of salt;
the soundings, twelve fathoms, with a bottom of soft green mud. The
wind increasing in violence, he heard the sound of the water beneath,
and felt the undulatory motion of the thin crust of ice.
“Our position,” says the bold explorer, “was at least an anxious
one; the more so as we could take no step to avoid the impending
danger. I believe few of our party slept, except the dogs, who alone
were unconscious of the great probability of the ice being broken up
by the force of the waves. Next day, the wind having fallen, I had
two of the best sledges emptied, and placed in them provisions for
twenty-four hours, with the boat and oars, some poles and boards, and
proceeded northward to examine the state of the ice; directing M. von
Matiuschkin, in case of danger, to retire with the whole party as far
as might be needful, without awaiting my return. After driving through
the thick brine with much difficulty for seven versts, we came to a
number of large fissures, which we passed with some trouble by the
aid of the boards which we had brought with us. At last the fissures
became so numerous and so wide that it was hard to say whether the
sea beneath us was really still covered by a connected coat of ice,
or only by a number of detached floating fragments, having everywhere
two or more feet of water between them. A single gust of wind would
have been sufficient to drive these fragments against each other,
and being already thoroughly saturated with water, they would have
sunk in a few minutes, leaving nothing but sea on the spot where we
were standing. It was manifestly useless to attempt going farther; we
hastened to rejoin our companions, and to seek with them a place of
greater security. Our most northern latitude was 71° 43´ at a distance
of 215 versts in a straight line from the lesser Baranow rock.” After
rejoining his companions, and while still on the frozen sea, so thick
a snow-storm came on that those in the hindmost sledge could not see
the leading ones. Unable either to pitch their tent or to light a fire,
they were exposed during the night to the whole fury of the storm, with
a temperature of +7°, without tea or soup, and with nothing to quench
their thirst or satisfy their hunger but a few mouthfuls of snow, a
little rye biscuit, and a half-spoilt fish. On April 28 they arrived
at Nishne-Kolymsk, after an absence of thirty-six days, during which
they had travelled above 800 miles with the same dogs, men and animals
having equally suffered from cold, hunger, and fatigue.
Neither discomfort, however, nor danger prevented Wrangell from
undertaking a third excursion in the following spring. He had great
difficulty in procuring the necessary dogs, a disease which raged among
them during the winter having carried off more than four-fifths of
these useful animals. At length his wants were supplied by the people
of the Indigirka, where the sickness had not extended, and on March 14,
1822, he again set out for the borders of the Polar Sea. During this
expedition a large extent of coast was accurately surveyed by Wrangell,
who sent out his worthy assistant Matiuschkin, with two companions,
in an unloaded sledge, to see if any farther advance could be made to
the north. Having accomplished ten versts, Matiuschkin was stopped by
the breaking up of the ice. Enormous masses, raised by the waves into
an almost vertical position, were driven against each other with a
dreadful crash, and pressed downward by the force of the billows to
re-appear again on the surface covered with the torn-up green mud which
here forms the bottom of the sea. It would tire the reader were I to
relate all the miseries of their return voyage; suffice it to say that,
worn out with hunger and fatigue, they reached Nishne-Kolymsk on May 5,
after an absence of fifty-seven days. Such sufferings and perils might
have excused all further attempts to discover the supposed land in
the Polar Sea, but nothing daunted by his repeated failures, Wrangell
determined on a fourth expedition in 1823, on which he resolved to
start from a more easterly point. On reaching the coast, the obstacles
were found still greater than on his previous visits to that fearful
sea. The weather was tempestuous, the ice thin and broken. It was
necessary at times to cross wide lanes of water on pieces of ice;
at times the thin ice bent beneath the weight of the sledges, which
were then saved only by the sagacity of the dogs, who, aware of the
danger, ran at their greatest speed until they found a solid footing.
At length, about sixty miles from shore, they arrived at the edge of an
immense break in the ice, extending east and west farther than the eye
could reach.
“We climbed one of the loftiest hummocks,” says Wrangell, “whence we
obtained an extensive view towards the north, and whence we beheld the
wide ocean spread before our gaze. It was a fearful and magnificent,
but to us a melancholy spectacle! Fragments of ice of enormous size
floated on the surface of the water, and were thrown by the waves
with awful violence against the edge of the ice-field on the farther
side of the channel before us. The collisions were so tremendous that
large masses were every instant broken away, and it was evident that
the portion of ice which still divided the channel from the open ocean
would soon be completely destroyed. Had we attempted to ferry ourselves
across upon one of the floating pieces of ice, we should not have
found firm footing upon our arrival. Even on our own side fresh lines
of water were continually forming, and extending in every direction
in the field of ice behind us. We could go no farther. With a painful
feeling of the impossibility of overcoming the obstacles which nature
opposed to us, our last hope vanished of discovering the land, which
we yet believed to exist. We saw ourselves compelled to renounce the
object for which we had striven through three years of hardships, toil,
and danger. We had done what honor and duty demanded; further attempts
would have been absolutely hopeless, and I decided to return.”
They turned, but already the track of their advance was scarcely
discernible, as new lanes of water had been formed, and fresh hummocks
raised by the sea. To add to their distress, a storm arose, which
threatened every moment to swallow up the ice island, on which they
hoped to cross a wide space of water which separated them from a firmer
ground.
“We had been three long hours in this position, and still the mass
of ice beneath us held together, when suddenly it was caught by
the storm, and hurled against a large field of ice; the crash was
terrific, and the mass beneath us was shattered into fragments. At
that dreadful moment, when escape seemed impossible, the impulse
of self-preservation, implanted in every living being, saved us.
Instinctively we all sprang at once on the sledges, and urged the dogs
to their full speed. They flew across the yielding fragments to the
field on which we had been stranded, and safely reached a part of it
of firmer character, on which were several hummocks, where the dogs
immediately ceased running, conscious, apparently, that the danger was
past. We were saved! We joyfully embraced each other, and united in
thanks to God for our preservation from such imminent peril.”
But their misfortunes did not end here; they were cut off from the
deposit of their provisions; they were 360 versts from their nearest
magazines, and the food for the dogs was now barely sufficient for
three days. Their joy may be imagined when, after a few versts’
travelling, they fell in with Matiuschkin and his party, bringing with
them an abundant supply of provisions of all kinds.
To leave nothing undone which could possibly be effected, Wrangell
advanced to the eastward along the coast, past Cape North, seen in
Cook’s last voyage, and proceeded as far as Koliutschin Island, where
he found some Tchuktchi, who had come over from Bering’s Straits to
trade.
With this journey terminated Wrangell’s labors on the coasts, or on
the surface of the Polar Sea, and, at the beginning of the following
winter, we find him taking a final leave of Nishne-Kolymsk. On January
10, 1824, he arrived at Jakutsk, and a few months later at Petersburg.
If we consider the difficulties he had to encounter, and his untiring
zeal and courage in the midst of privations and dangers, it is only
fair to admit that his name deserves to be ranked among the most
distinguished explorers of the Arctic world.