Here they launched their boat of sea-lion
skin on a bone frame, and pulled across a bay of ten miles to the
farthermost hunting-grounds. Again, the natives overwhelm Drusenin
with kindness. The Russian keeps his sentinels as {91} vigilant as
ever pacing before the doors of the hut; but he goes unguarded and
unharmed among the native dwellings. Perhaps, poor Drusenin was not
above swaggering a little, belted in the gay uniform Russian officers
loved to wear, to the confounding of the poor Aleut who looked on the
pistols in belt, the cutlass dangling at heel, the bright shoulder
straps and colored cuffs, as insignia of a power almighty. Anyway,
after Drusenin had sent five hunters out in the fields to lay
fox-traps, early in the morning of December 4, he set out with a couple
of Cossack friends to visit a native house. Korelin, the rescued
castaway, and two other men kept guard at the huts.[2]
At that time, and until very recently, the Aleuts' winter dwelling was
a domed, thatched roof over a cellar excavation three or four feet
deep, circular and big enough to lodge a dozen families.
Pages:
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132