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They were bedlam. Panic was in the marrow of
every man, even the passionate Steller, who thought all the while they
were on the coast of Kamchatka and made loud complaint that the
expedition had been misled by "unscrupulous leaders."
At eight o'clock on the morning of October 30 it was seen that the
ice-clogged ropes on the starboard {34} side had been snapped by the
wind like dry sticks. Offerings, vows, prayers went up from the
stricken crew. Piety became a very real thing. The men prayed aloud
and conferred on ways to win the favor of God. The colder weather
brought one relief. The fog lifted and the air was clear. The wind
veered northeast, and on November 4, to their inexpressible joy, a dim
outline sharpened to hard, clear horizon; and the gazing crew gradually
saw a high, mountainous coast become clear beyond doubt directly ahead
sixteen miles. Surely, this was Kamchatka? Surely, God had heard
their vows? The sick crawled on hands and knees above the hatchway to
see land once more, and with streaming eyes thanked Heaven for the
escape from doom.


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