Earlier in our narrative, Davydov expressed disdain for the timidity with which the promyshlenniks had typically approached sailing in the North Pacific. Now in mid-October, they are sailing months later in the season than their less experienced predecessors. They are near the Alaskan mainland, although their destination is Kodiak Island, a large island outside the entrance to the Cook Inlet, which now gives access to Anchorage, Alaska. There they will meet Aleksandr Andreyevich Baranov, General Manager of the Russian-American Company in America. In 1799, Baranov had established his headquarters at the fortress of the Archangel Michael near current Sitka, Alaska, but earlier in 1802 a party of Tlingit natives had successfully raided and burned the fortress, forcing Baranov to retreat to Kodiak, where Khvostov and Davydov would find him.
The previous installment:
As we begin this installment, the Elizaveta is passing Unimak Island, the easternmost of the Aleutians, and will soon reach the mainland.
DAVYDOV’S NARRATIVE (Continued)
CHAPTER III (Concluded).
15 October [1802].
By morning the wind had picked up, and in the afternoon another reef had to be taken from the topsails. At night a terrific storm came up, and we stayed under the mizzen and reefed main topsail on the eselgoft [This, from its Cyrillic spelling, is plainly a foreign word borrowed into Russian. It appears to refer to a kind of mast cap, but I would be grateful if a sailing friend could amplify. Peter the Great imported shipbuilding knowhow from the English and Dutch, and his shipbuilders imported some terminology –JT.]. The gusts of wind were terrible, the cruel waves hitting the ship with great force shook all its timbers, and the leakage became so great the water poured into the hold, even though we had both pumps working constantly. One can easily imagine the effect this had on people who were not accustomed to the dangers of the sea – fear drove them to work very hard, not sparing their strength. The leak was in the galley and on the starboard side near the main hatch, probably from poor caulking, or from missing bolts and dowels, the holes instead stopped with a pike; for even before sailing from Okhotsk and upon arrival in America, we discovered many similar problems that increased our danger. The cargo in the hold (which, due to the shortness of our stay in Okhotsk and the quantity of work, we did not have time to stow properly) moved and the ballast shifted to the leeward side. However, around midnight, the water in the hold began to decrease.
16 October.
At dawn the storm continued to rage; the pitching was so great that it was impossible to stand on the deck without holding onto something. People were exhausted from spray and work at the pumps, but there was no help for it; in the morning, however, they began to take two shifts.
17 October.
At dawn, the wind became quieter, but soon moved to E and grew stronger again. We lay N by E under the foresail, main topsail and mizzen; at 12 o'clock the sun appeared for a moment, and then again there was a mist and foam.
18 October.
By nightfall, the wind began to subside, and finally calmed down. Aside from the leak, there was no major damage after the storm; only the latrine and the baidaras were broken.
19 October.
In the morning we repaired everything that broke during the storm, fixed one baidara, shortening it by 1½ feet; and in the place of a cable that parted near the mainsail, we rigged a sling. In the afternoon the wind blew out of the SE, but soon came to NE.
20 October.
Overnight, the wind blew quite strongly from NE, by morning it died down, and around midnight it became calm. A lanyard burst in the broken main cable, which was then changed.
21 October.
From midnight the wind blew out from the SW. Despite all the toil and problems, we had a few free hours, during which we read the journey of the Dutch with Gemekerk and the Barents across the Arctic Sea. It seemed that the calamities endured by these seafarers encouraged us and allowed us to forget our own unpleasant and dangerous situation.
22 October.
From midnight the wind from the NW became rather strong, so that we remained under the reefed foresail and main topsail on the eselgoft; the gusts of wind with hail and snow were very fierce; the leak increased, but not to such an extent as to become dangerous. In the morning we shook out the reef at the fore, set a reefed foretopsail, mainsail and jib. At 11 o'clock arose a cruel squall with snow, and after that the wind became WNW, then NW. We lay NE by N. The day was rather fine, for the time being the sun shone and sometimes snow was falling. The wind died down at night.
23 October.
A mild west breeze, and sometimes complete calm, continued throughout the day.
24 October.
The morning was beautiful, the sun was shining, the wind was blowing favorably: we were happy and thought we would see Kodiak Island soon; but suddenly on the port side the clouds began to thicken and the sea turned black: we began to reduce sail. At 11 o'clock, the day became not much brighter than night. Then from NNW came a brutal barrage of hail. After that, thick wet snow began to fall. So our hope of being on Kodiak soon collapsed. Let the reader not be surprised that I am talking about Kodiak, as if about the most beautiful place in which thousands of pleasures await us. It's a vexation to be at sea in the cold autumn time and constantly struggle with winds and waves, so finally you imagine that the emptiest and wildest island seems to be a heavenly dwelling. At noon the snow stopped and the day cleared up, but after that we often had stormy gusts of wind with thick snow.
The track for this installment in green, terminating at Kodiak.
25 October.
At 11 o'clock in the morning came a cruel squall with thick snow, and in a short time more than a quarter of an arshin [7 inches] accumulated on deck; all our rigging and sails were wet and icy. After this, the wind became very strong and gusty, and we remained under the reefed main topsail on the eselgoft and mizzen. One degree of heat [about 34ºF.] at noon. In the afternoon the sun shown briefly, and we had a bit more hail and snow.
26 October.
We are down to 15 poods [a bit more than 500 lb.] of hardtack, and 10 barrels of water; so our situation has become very unpleasant.
In the morning the wind began to subside and shifted to the west. We stood to N by E. Seagulls, macaws and fulmars flew around the ship. At two in the morning, it was 7 [say, 16ºF.], at four o’clock 2 [about 28ºF.], and at eight o’clock 1 degree of frost [30º F.]. At noon, the mercury rose to 3 degrees of heat [about 39º F.]. Taking advantage of the abating of the wind, we managed to tighten the shrouds, reinforce the stays, and put on the third pump. At six o'clock in the afternoon the wind blew out from the south and soon became so strong that we, standing to the north, sailed under the reefed topsails and foresail at 8 and 9 knots: a high speed for our heavy ship. At 7 o'clock, a cruel squall from the port bow snapped the sails without causing any damage. Then the wind became WSW.
27 October.
The seas were high; the weather, with nearly continuous sunshine, was rather warm, although sometimes squalls of hail and snow occurred. There were many fulmars and Albatrosses flying around the ship.
28 October.
From midnight we lay NNW, the day was beautiful, and the observation of the sun at noon showed that we were much farther east than we supposed ourselves by reckoning; for which reason we lay to NW. At 3 o'clock in the afternoon, the day became cloudy, and strong gales of hail and snow came up; a at 4 o'clock there was one so cruel that the water on deck came almost to the main hatch: so the ship heeled badly. Then we shortened sail and remained under the reefed foresail and the main topsail. The wind became W.
29 October.
At 2 o’clock in the morning we saw land on the port side and went to it on the port tack. When dawn broke, we saw the southeastern bank of Kodiak, covered entirely with snow; the rising sun, gleaming the tops of the mountains, was an excellent sight. The day was warm, at 9 o’clock it calmed down, and in the afternoon a rather fresh wind blew from SSE with rain and clouds, completely obscuring the shore. Having passed the island of Ugak, we continued for the night to maneuver under small sails; because to enter Chiniak Bay, where the harbor of St. Paul and the main establishment of the company is located, it only remained to go around the Cape Chiniak.
30 October.
We had no chart of this harbor; no one could even tell us about the signs by which we could find the anchorage, so we decided to survey all of Chiniak Bay, starting from its southern coast. At 8 o’clock in the morning, with an easterly wind with a slight fog, we descended to SW, and after passing Cape Chiniak, we began to hold along the bay of the same name, firing cannon shots from time to time. There are three inlets in Chiniak Bay. We were afraid to enter the southern one, seeing at the mouth of it a lot of protruding rocks. At 10 o’clock it seemed that there was a baidara rowing to the vessel; but upon examination, we learned that it was a rock in the middle of the bay. Half a verst [a little less than 500 yards] from this to NE, there was another one underwater. At 12 o’clock we entered a small bay, somewhat open on the northern side, and anchored at a depth of 12 sazhens; the bottom rock with shells.
In the afternoon, two Americans [by which Russians generally meant Alaskan natives –JT.] came to us in a two-key (that is, two hatches) baidarka [kayak]. Their clothes consisted of cloth trousers, pullovers, and kamleikas, sewn from the intestines of aquatic animals: both were barefoot. One had beads with silk tassels in his ears; the hats on both are woven of grass, or of roots, very skillfully and beautifully. Having entered the ship, they hauled the baidarka up behind them, drank vodka, ate hardtack and everything that was given to them. They knew a little Russian and said that they lived on one of the islands not far from the harbor. These Americans stayed overnight with us.
A baidarka, about 18 feet long. This is on display at Fort Ross, on the Sonoma coast. Photo by author. Check out the Fort Ross Conservancy www.fortross.org
The shore astern was not more than two miles away. (* - In all places where I make mention of miles, I refer to Italian miles, that is 1-3/4 versts [if Davydov is correct, these miles would be just a bit longer than statute miles –JT.]) There is a birch forest and a creek in it that forms a waterfall. The leeward bank is littered with underwater rocks that emerge at low tide. The appearance of this place must be beautiful in summer; but now the snow falling on the mountains and the trees bare of leaves were a very sad sight.
The wind was blowing very strongly with rain and gusts, and in spite of the fact that we were protected from it by the coast, at five o’clock we began to drift; so we dropped a large anchor, and lowered the topgallants and the lower yards. The vessel came to at a depth of 9 sazhens, with a rocky shoal one mile astern. The weather was the same. In the afternoon, the force of the waves broke the pawl at the windlass.
31 October.
At 10 o’clock in the morning, two three-key baidarkas came to the ship, and in one of them there was a promyshlennik Slobodchikov, sent by Baranov the same day they saw our ship entering the bay, but who until now could not reach us because of the strong wind. In the first hour of the afternoon in one of the three-key baidarkas they brought from Baranov a pie of fish and goose, which we were very happy with.
1 November.
One cable parted overnight; but after that the wind began to subside. At 7 o’clock in the morning we weighed anchor and with the help of three baidarkas that had come from the harbor, we left the bay in tow. Approaching the forest island, we left it to the right, keeping close to it; for from the island in the left hand of this one, there is a ridge of rocks, of which there are many in this part of Chiniak Bay. Having not seen any pleasant shore for so long, I admired the forest island very much. In the middle of it lies a small valley surrounded by fir groves, whose greenery gave this part of the island a cheerful look. From this came to us a lot of two-key and three-key baidarkas, even with women and children; These savages looked at the ship and at everything with curiosity and escorted us to the anchor point. When we came to the sight of the Russian village, they fired 6 or 7 times from there from different places and quite randomly, to which we also answered from a three-pound cannon [the Russian word for this type of cannon, the 18th century kind with a long barrel, on wheels, translates literally as unicorn –JT.] , deliberately for this case tied to the side with a rope, mutual congratulations worthy of the remoteness in which this happened.
The entrance to the so-called New Harbor or St. Paul, located between the coast of Kodiak and a small island, is no wider than fifty sazhens, the depth here and farther along, from 7 to 9 sazhens. There is something like a fortification on the cape at the entrance. At 3 o’clock in the afternoon, we anchored at a depth of 7 sazhens, the bottom small shells with sand; we secured from the stern to the shore with mooring lines. The weather, which had been cloudy for a long time, became clear and very warm.
This concludes Chapter III. Chapter IV, in which we meet Baranov, begins in the next installment. I can’t resist a bit of a teaser here, though. Baranov was a larger-than-life figure on the Northwest Coast. A decade after these events, John Jacob Astor established a fur trading post at the mouth of the Columbia River, basically the site of Astoria, Oregon. Astor’s people had dealings with Baranov. Unlike so many of Astor’s other ventures, this one failed, so to whitewash the failure, Astor commissioned Washington Irving to chronicle the enterprise. Here is part of Irving’s description of Baranov, in around 1814:
The place [New Arkhangel, now Sitka, Alaska, at which Baranov had succeeded in re-establishing himself in 1805] at that time was the residence of Count Baranhoff, the governor of the different colonies; a rough, rugged, hospitable, harddrinking old Russian; somewhat of a soldier, somewhat of a trader; above all, a boon companion of the old roystering school, with a strong cross of the bear.
Mr. Hunt [Astor’s agent] found this hyperborean veteran ensconced in a fort which crested the whole of a high rocky promontory. It mounted one hundred guns, large and small, and was impregnable to Indian attack, unaided by artillery. …
[T]he old Russian potentate exerted a considerable sway over a numerous and irregular class of maritime traders, who looked to him for aid and munitions, and through whom he may be said to have, in some degree, extended his power along the whole northwest coast. These were American captains of vessels engaged in a particular department of the trade. …
Over these coasting captains, as we have hinted, the veteran governor exerted some sort of sway, but it was of a peculiar and characteristic kind; it was the tyranny of the table. They were obliged to join him in his “prosnics” or carousals, and to drink “potations pottle deep.” His carousals, too, were not of the most quiet kind, nor were his potations as mild as nectar. “He is continually,” said Mr. Hunt, “giving entertainments by way of parade, and if you do not drink raw rum, and boiling punch as strong as sulphur, he will insult you as soon as he gets drunk, which is very shortly after sitting down to table.” …
Such was the old grizzled bear with whom Mr. Hunt had to do his business. How he managed to cope with his humor; whether he pledged himself in raw rum and blazing punch, and “clinked the can” with him as they made their bargains, does not appear upon record; we must infer, however, from his general observations on the absolute sway of this hard-drinking potentate, that he had to conform to the customs of his court, and that their business transactions presented a maudlin mixture of punch and peltry.
– Washington Irving, Astoria: Or Anecdotes of an Enterprise Beyond the Rocky Mountains (1836)