Vikings of the Pacific | Page 8

Tobolsk; but May of 1734 witnessed a firing of cannon, a blaring of
trumpets, a clinking of merry glasses among merry gentlemen; for the
caravans were setting out once more to the swearing of the Cossacks,
the complaining of the scientists, the brawling of the underling officers,
the silent chagrin of the endlessly patient Bering. One can easily
believe that the God-speed from the Siberians was sincere; for the local
governors used the orders for tribute to enrich themselves; and the
country-side groaned under a heavy burden of extortion. The second
winter was passed at Yakutsk, where the ships that were to chart the

Arctic coast of Siberia were built and launched with crews of some
hundred men.
It was the end of June, 1735, before the main forces were under way
again for the Pacific. From Yakutsk to Okhotsk on the Pacific, the
course was down the Lena, up the Aldan River, up the Maya, up the
Yudoma, across the Stanovoi Mountains, down the Urak river to the
sea. A thousand Siberian exiles were compelled to convoy these
boats.[11] Not a roof had been prepared to house the forces in the
mountains. Men and horses were torn to pieces by the timber {16}
wolves. Often, for days at a time, the only rations were carcasses of
dead horses, roots, flour, and rice. Winter barracks had to be built
between the rivers, for the navigable season was short. In May the
rivers broke up in spring flood. Then, the course was against a boiling
torrent. Thirty men could not tug a boat up the Yudoma. They stood in
ice-water up to their waists lifting the barges over the turbulent places.
Sores broke out on the feet of horses and men. Three years it took to
transport all the supplies and ships' rigging from the Lena to the Pacific,
with wintering barracks constructed at each stopping place.
At Okhotsk on the Pacific, Major-General Pissarjeff was harbor master.
This old reprobate, once a favorite of Peter the Great, had been knouted,
branded and exiled for conspiracy, forbidden even to conceal his brand;
and now, he let loose all his seventy years of bitterness on Bering. He
not only had not made preparation to house the explorers; but he
refused to permit them inside the stockades of the miserable huts at
Okhotsk, which he called his fort. When they built a fort of their own
outside, he set himself to tantalize the two Danes, Bering and Spanberg,
knouting their men, sending coureurs with false accusations against
Bering to St. Petersburg, actually countermanding their orders for
supplies from the Cossacks. Spanberg would have finished the matter
neatly with a sharp sword; but Bering forbore, and Pissarjeff {17} was
ultimately replaced by a better harbor master. The men set to work
cutting the timber for the ships that were to cross from Okhotsk to the
east shore of Kamchatka; for Bering's ships of the first voyage could
now be used only as packet boats.

Not till the fourth of June, 1741, had all preparations ripened for the
fulfilment of Czar Peter's dying wishes to extend his empire into
America. Two vessels, the St. Peter and the St. Paul, rode at anchor at
Petropaulovsk in the Bay of Avacha on the east coast of Kamchatka.
On the shore was a little palisaded fort of some fifty huts, a barrack, a
chapel, a powder magazine. Early that morning, solemn religious
services had been held to invoke the blessing of Heaven on the
voyagers. Now, the chapel bell was set ringing. Monks came singing
down to the water's edge. Cannon were fired. Cheer on cheer set the
echoes rolling among the white domed mountains. There was a rattling
of anchor chains, a creaking of masts and yard-arms. The sails fluttered
out bellying full; and with a last, long shout, the ships glided out before
the wind to the lazy swell of the Pacific for the discovery of new
worlds.
And why not new worlds? That was the question the officers
accompanying Bering asked themselves as the white peaks of
Kamchatka faded on the offing. Certainly, in the history of the world,
no expedition had set out with greater prestige. Eight years had it {18}
taken to cross Siberia from St. Petersburg to the Pacific. A line of forts
across two continents had been built for winter quarters. Rivers had
been bridged; as many as forty boats knocked together in a single year
to raft down the Siberian torrents. Two hundred thousand dollars in
modern money had been spent before the Pacific was reached. In all,
nine ships had been built on the Pacific to freight supplies across from
Okhotsk to the eastern side of Kamchatka, two to carry Bering to the
new continent of "Gamaland" which the savants persisted in