GEORGE WILLIAM STELLER.
His Birth.--Enters the Russian Service.--Scientific Journey
to Kamchatka.--Accompanies Bering on his second Voyage of
Discovery.--Lands on the Island of Kaiak.--Shameful Conduct of
Bering.--Shipwreck on Bering Island.--Bering’s Death.--Return
to Kamchatka.--Loss of Property.--Persecutions of the Siberian
Authorities.--Frozen to Death at Tjumen.
George William Steller, one of the most distinguished naturalists of
the past century, was born at Winsheim, a small town in Franconia, in
the year 1709. After completing his studies at the universities of
Wittenberg and Halle, he turned his thoughts to Russia, which, since
the reforms of Czar Peter the Great, and the protection which that
monarch and his successors afforded to German learning, had become the
land of promise for all adventurous spirits.
Having been appointed surgeon in the Russian army, which at that time
was besieging Danzig, he went with a transport of wounded soldiers,
after the surrender of that town, to St. Petersburg, where he arrived
in 1734. Here his talents were soon appreciated; after a few years he
was named a member of the Imperial Academy of Sciences, and sent by
Government, in 1738, to examine the natural productions of Kamchatka.
The ability and zeal with which he fulfilled this mission is proved
by the valuable collections which he sent to the Academy, and by his
numerous memoirs, which are still read with interest in the present day.
In 1741 he accompanied Bering on his second voyage of discovery,
the object of which was to determine the distance of America from
Kamchatka, and to ascertain the separation or the junction of both
continents in a higher latitude--a question which his first voyage
had left undecided. Nothing could be more agreeable to a man like
Steller, than the prospects held out to him by an expedition to
unknown regions; and we can easily imagine the delight with which the
naturalist embarked on board of the “Saint Peter,” commanded by Bering
in person. Accompanied by the “Saint Paul,” under Tschirigow, they
sailed on June 4 from the Bay of Avatscha.
The expedition had cost ten years of preparation, and brought misery
and ruin upon many of the wild Siberian tribes, for all that was
necessary for the outfit had to be conveyed by compulsory labor from
the interior of the continent over mountains and rivers, through dense
forests and pathless wilds, and it seemed from the very beginning of
the voyage as if the curses of the unfortunate natives clung to it.
Much valuable time had been lost, for the ships ought to have sailed at
least a month earlier, and Bering, who from illness constantly kept to
his cabin, was by no means a fit commander for a scientific expedition.
After a few days a dense fog separated the vessels, which were never
to meet again; and as the “St. Peter” held her course too much to the
south, the Aleutic chain remained undiscovered, and the first land
was only sighted after four weeks in the neighborhood of Bering’s
Bay. During the whole of this passage Steller had to endure all the
vexations which arrogant stupidity could inflict upon a man anxious to
do his duty. It was in vain that he repeatedly pointed out the signs
which indicated the presence of land not far to the north, in vain that
he entreated the commander to steer but one day in that direction. At
last, on July 15, the high mountains of America were seen to rise above
the horizon, and the vessel anchored on the 19th near to the small
island of Kaiak.
On the following day a boat was sent out to fetch some fresh water,
but it was with the utmost difficulty that Steller could obtain
permission to join the party. All assistance was obstinately denied
him, and accompanied by his only servant, a Cossack, he landed on
the unknown shore, eager to make the most of the short time allotted
him for his researches. He immediately directed his steps towards
the interior, and had scarcely walked a mile when he discovered the
hollowed trunk of a tree, in which, a few hours before, the savages
had boiled their meat with red-hot stones. He also found several pots
filled with esculent herbs, and a wooden instrument for making fire,
like those which are used by the inhabitants of Kamchatka. Hence he
conjectured that the aborigines of this part of the American coast must
be of the same origin as the Kamchatkans, and that both countries must
necessarily approach each other towards the north, as the inhabitants
could not possibly traverse such vast extents of ocean in their
rudely-constructed boats.
Pursuing his way, Steller now came to a path which led into a dense
and shady forest. Before entering, he strictly forbade his Cossack to
act without commands, in case of a hostile encounter. The Cossack had
a gun, with a knife and hatchet; Steller himself only a Jakut poniard,
which he had taken with him to dig out plants or stones. After half
an hour’s walking, they came to a place strewn with grass. This was
immediately removed, and a roof or platform discovered, consisting of
strips of bark laid upon poles and covered with stones. This platform
opened into a cellar containing a large quantity of smoked fishes, and
a few bundles of the inner bark of the larch or fir tree, which, in
case of necessity, serves as food throughout all Siberia. There were
also some arrows, dyed black and smoothed, of a size far superior to
those used in Kamchatka.
After Steller, in spite of the danger of being surprised by the
savages, had accurately examined the contents of the cellar, he sent
his Cossack back again to the place where the boatmen were watering.
He gave him specimens of the various articles which he had found,
ordering him to take them to Captain Bering, and to request that two
or three men might be sent to him for further assistance. In the mean
time, though quite alone, he continued his investigations of the
strange land, and having reached the summit of a hill, he saw smoke
rising from a forest at some distance. Overjoyed at the sight, for he
now could hope to meet with the natives and to complete his knowledge
of the island, he instantly returned to the landing-place with all the
eagerness of a man who has something important to communicate; and
as the boat was just about to leave, told the sailors to inform the
captain of his discovery, and to beg that the small pinnace, with a
detachment of armed men, might be sent out to him.
Meanwhile, exhausted with fatigue, he sat down on the beach, where he
described in his pocket-book some of the more delicate plants he had
collected, which he feared might speedily wither, and regaled himself
with the excellent water. After waiting for about an hour, he at length
received an answer from Bering, telling him to return immediately on
board, unless he chose to be left behind; and we can easily imagine the
indignation of the disappointed naturalist at this shameful command.
On the morning of July 21, Bering, contrary to his custom, appeared on
deck, ordered the anchors to be weighed, and gave directions to sail
back again on the same course. The continent he had discovered was
not even honored with a single visit, so that Steller could not help
telling the Russians they had merely come thus far for the purpose of
carrying American water to Asia. Any conscientious commander would have
continued to sail along the unknown shore, or, considering that the
season was already far advanced, would have determined to winter there,
and to pursue his discoveries next spring; but, unfortunately for
Bering and his companions, the course he adopted proved as disastrous
as it was dishonorable.
Three months long the ship was tossed about by contrary winds and
storms; the islands of the Aleutic chain, though frequently seen
through the mists, were but seldom visited; the scurvy broke out among
the dispirited, ill-fed crew, their misery increased from day to
day, and their joy may be imagined when at length, on November 5, a
land was seen which they firmly believed to be Kamchatka--though in
reality it was merely the desert of Bering’s Island, situated a hundred
miles from that peninsula. Even those who were nearly half dead crept
upon deck to enjoy the welcome sight; every one thanked God, and the
ignorant officer, convinced that they were at the entrance of the Bay
of Avatscha, even named the several mountains; but their mistake soon
became apparent when, on rounding a small promontory, some well-known
islets were missed. As they had no doubt, however, that the land was
really Kamchatka, and the bad weather and the small number of hands fit
to do duty rendering it difficult to reach the Gulf of Avatscha, it was
resolved to run into the bay that lay before them, and to send notice
from thence to Nishne-Kamchatsk of their safe arrival.
Steller was among the first to land, and probably the very first of
the party who discovered the mistake of the _excellent_ navigators to
whom the expedition had been intrusted. Sea-otters came swimming to
him from the land, and he well knew that these much-persecuted animals
had long since disappeared from the coast of Kamchatka. The number of
Arctic foxes, too, who showed no fear at his approach, and the sea-cows
gambolling in the water, were sure signs that the foot of man had not
often trodden this shore. Steller was also the first to set the good
example of making the best of a bad situation, instead of uselessly
bewailing his misfortunes. He began to erect a hut for the following
winter, and formed an association with several of the crew, who,
whatever might await them, promised to stand by each other.
During the following days the sick were gradually conveyed on shore.
Some of them died on board as soon as they were brought into the open
air, others in the boat, others as soon as they were landed. “On all
sides,” says Steller, in his interesting account of this ill-fated
voyage, “nothing was to be seen but misery. Before the dead could be
buried, they were mangled by the foxes, who even ventured to approach
the helpless invalids who were lying without cover on the beach. Some
of these wretched sufferers bitterly complained of the cold, others of
hunger and thirst--for many had their gums so swollen and ulcerated
with the scurvy as to be unable to eat.”
“On November 13,” continues the naturalist, “I went out hunting for
the first time with Messieurs Plenisner and Betge; we killed four
sea-otters, and did not return before night. We ate their flesh
thankfully, and prayed to God that He might continue to provide us with
this excellent food. The costly skins, on the other hand, were of no
value in our eyes; the only objects which we now esteemed were knives,
needles, thread, ropes, etc., on which before we had not bestowed a
thought. We all saw that rank, science, and other social distinctions
were now of no avail, and could not in any way contribute to our
preservation: we therefore resolved, before we were forced to do so
by necessity, to set to work at once. We introduced among us five a
community of goods, and regulated our housekeeping in such a manner
as not to be in want before the winter was over. Our three Cossacks
were obliged to obey our orders, when we had decided upon something in
common; but we began to treat them with greater politeness, calling
them by their names and surnames, and we soon found that Peter
Maximowitsch served us with more alacrity than formerly Petrucha (a
diminutive of Peter).
“_Nov._ 14.--The whole ship’s company was formed into three parties.
The one had to convey the sick and provisions from the ship; the second
brought wood; the third, consisting of a lame sailor and myself,
remained at home--the former busy making a sledge, while I acted
as cook. As our party was the first to organize a household, I also
performed the duty of bringing warm soup to some of our sick, until
they had so far recovered as to be able to help themselves.
“The barracks being this day ready to receive the sick, many of them
were transported under roof; but for want of room, they lay everywhere
on the ground, covered with rags and clothes. No one could assist the
other, and nothing was heard but lamentations and curses--the whole
affording so wretched a sight, as to make even the stoutest heart lose
courage. On November 15 all the sick were at length landed. We took one
of them, named Boris Sänd, into our hut, and by God’s help he recovered
within three months.
“The following days added to our misery, as the messengers we had
sent out brought us the intelligence that we were on a desert island,
without any communication with Kamchatka. We were also in constant fear
that the stormy weather might drive our ship out to sea, and along
with it all our provisions, and every hope of ever returning to our
homes. Sometimes it was impossible to get to the vessel for several
days together, so boisterous was the surge; and about ten or twelve
men, who had hitherto been able to work, now also fell ill. Want,
nakedness, frost, rain, illness, impatience, and despair, were our
daily companions.”
Fortunately the stormy sea drove the ship upon the strand, better than
it could probably have been done by human efforts. Successively many
of the scorbutic patients died, and on December 8 the unfortunate
commander of the expedition paid his debt to nature.
Titus Bering, by birth a Dane, had served thirty-six years with
distinction in the Russian navy, but age and infirmities had completely
damped his energies, and his death is a warning to all who enter upon
undertakings above their strength.
In the mean time the whole ship’s company had established itself for
the winter in five subterranean dwellings; the general health was
visibly improving, merely by means of the excellent water, and by the
fresh meat furnished by sea-otters, seals, and manatees; and the only
care now was to gain sufficient strength to be able to undertake the
work of deliverance in spring.
In April the shipwrecked mariners began to build a smaller ship out of
the timbers of the “St. Peter,” and, such was the alacrity with which
all hands set to work, that on August 13 they were able to set out.
“When we were all embarked,” says Steller, “we first perceived how
much we should be inconvenienced for want of room; the water-casks,
provisions, and baggage taking up so much space, that our forty-two men
(the three ship’s officers and myself were somewhat better off in the
cabin) could hardly creep between them and the deck. A great quantity
of the bedding and clothing had to be thrown overboard. Meanwhile we
saw the foxes sporting about our deserted huts, and greedily devouring
remnants of fat and meat.
“On the 14th, in the morning, we weighed anchor, and steered out of
the bay. The weather being beautiful, and the wind favorable, we were
all in good spirits, and, as we sailed along the island, pointed out to
each other the well-known mountains and valleys which we had frequently
visited in quest of game or for the purpose of reconnoitring. Towards
evening we were opposite the farthest point of the island, and on the
15th, the wind continuing favorable, we steered direct towards the
Bay of Avatscha. About midnight, however, we perceived, to our great
dismay, that the vessel began to fill with water from an unknown
leak, which, in consequence of the crowded and overloaded state of
the vessel, it was extremely difficult to find out. The pumps were
soon choked by the shavings left in the hold, and the danger rapidly
increased, as the wind was strong and the vessel badly built. The sails
were immediately taken in; some of the men removed the baggage to
look for the leak, others kept continually pouring out the water with
kettles, while others again cast all superfluous articles overboard.
At length, after the lightening of the ship, the carpenter succeeded
in stopping the leak, and thus we were once more saved from imminent
danger.... On the 17th we sighted Kamchatka, but as the wind was
contrary, we did not enter the harbor before the evening of the 27th.
“In spite of the joy we all felt at our deliverance, yet the news we
heard on our arrival awakened in us a host of conflicting emotions. We
had been given up for lost, and all our property had passed into other
hands, and been mostly carried away beyond hope of recovery. Hence joy
and sorrow alternated within a few moments in our minds, though we were
all so accustomed to privation and misery, as hardly to feel the extent
of our losses.”
In the year 1744 Steller was ordered to return to St. Petersburg; but
his candor had made him powerful enemies. Having reached Novgorod, and
rejoicing in the idea of once more mixing with the civilized world, he
was suddenly ordered to appear before the imperial court of justice
at Irkutsk, on the charge of having treacherously sold powder to the
enemies of Russia. Thus obliged to return once more into the depths
of Siberia, he was at length dismissed by his judges, after waiting a
whole year for their verdict.
Once more on his way to St. Petersburg, he had already reached Moscow,
when he was again summoned to appear without delay before the court of
Irkutsk. A journey to Siberia is, under all circumstances, an arduous
undertaking; what, then, must have been Steller’s feelings when,
instead of enjoying the repose he had so well merited, he saw himself
obliged to retrace his steps for the fourth time, for the purpose of
vindicating his conduct before a rascally tribunal? On a very cold day
his Cossack guards stopped to refresh themselves with some brandy at an
inn by the road-side, and Steller, who remained in the sledge waiting
for their return, fell asleep, and was frozen to death.
He lies buried near the town of Tjumen, and no monument apprises the
naturalist, whom the love of knowledge may lead into the Siberian
wilds, that his unfortunate predecessor was thus basely requited after
years of exertion in the interests of science.
[Illustration: 90. CHURCH AT PETROPAVLOSK.]