erhaps they saw those palisades
of ice, that stretch like a rampart northward along the main shore west
of St. Elias.

The _St. Peter_ moved slowly landward against a head wind. Khitroff
and Steller put off in the small {27} boats with fifteen men to
reconnoitre. Both found traces of inhabitants--timbered huts, fire
holes, shells, smoked fish, footprints in the grass. Steller left some
kettles, knives, glass beads, and trinkets in the huts to replace the
possessions of the natives, which the Russians took. Many years later,
another voyager met an old Indian, who told of seeing Bering's ship
anchor at Kyak Island when he was a boy; but the terrified Indians had
fled, only returning to find the presents in the huts, when the
Russians had gone.[13] Steller was as wild as a child out of school,
and accompanied by only one Cossack went bounding over the island
collecting specimens and botanizing. Khitroff, meanwhile, filled
water-casks; but on July 21, the day after the anchorage, a storm-wind
began whistling through the rigging. The rollers came washing down
from the ice wall of the coast and the far offing showed the dirty fog
that portended storm. Only half the water-casks had been filled; but
there was a brisk seaward breeze. Without warning, contrary to his
custom of consulting the other officers, Bering appeared on deck pallid
and ashen from disease, and peremptorily ordered anchors up.

In vain Steller stormed and swore, accusing the chief of pusillanimous
homesickness, "of reducing his explorations to a six hours' anchorage
on an island shore," "of coming from Asia to carry home American
water." The commander had had enough of {28} vacillation, delay,
interference. One-third of the crew was ailing. Provisions for only
three months were in the hold. The ship was off any known course more
than two thousand miles from any known port; and contrary winds might
cause delay or drive the vessel on the countless reefs that lined this
strange coast, like a ploughed field.

Dense clouds and a sleety rain settled over the sea, washing out every
outline, as the _St. Peter_ began her westward course. But what
baffled both Bering and the officers was the fact that the coast
trended, not north, but south. They were coasting that long peninsula
of Alaska that projects an arm for a thousand miles southwestward into
the Pacific.

The roar of the rollers came from the reefs. Through the blanketing
fog they could dis