the hostiles renewed the attack, surrounding the Russian ship in forty
canoes with ten to twenty warriors in each. An ocean vessel of the
time, or even a pirate ship, could have scattered the assailants in a
few minutes; but the Russian hunting vessels were long, low,
flat-bottomed, rickety-planked craft, of perhaps sixty feet in length,
with no living accommodation below decks, and very poor hammock space
above. Hostages and scurvy-stricken Russians were packed in the hold
with the meat stores and furs like dying rats in a garbage barrel. It
was as much as a Russian's life was worth, to show his head above the
hatchway; and the siege lasted from the middle of December to the 30th
of March, when Drusenin's four refugees, led by Korelin, made a final
dash from Makushin Volcano, and gained Korovin's ship.
With the addition of the fugitives, Korovin now had eighteen Russians.
The Indian father of the hostage, {102} Alexis, had come to demand back
his son. Korovin freed the boy at once. By the end of April, the
spring gales had subsided, and though half his men were prostrate with
scurvy, there was nothing for Korovin to do but dare the sea. They
sailed out from Oonalaska on April 26 heading back toward Oomnak, where
Medvedeff had anchored.
In the straits between the different Aleutian Islands runs a terrific
tide-rip. Crossing from Oonalaska to Oomnak, Korovin's ship was caught
by the counter-currents and cross winds. Not more than five men were
well enough to stand upon their feet. The ship drifted without pilot
or oarsmen, and driving the full force of wind and tide foundered on
the end of Oomnak Island. Ammunition, sails, and skins for fresh
rowboats were all that could be saved of the wreck. One
scurvy-stricken sailor was drowned trying to reach land; another died
on being lifted from the stiflingly close hold to fresh air. Eight
hostages sprang overboard and escaped. Of the sixteen white men and
four hostages left, three were powerless from scurvy. This last blow
on top of a winter's siege was too much for the Russians. Their
enfeebled bodies were totally exhausted. Stretching sails round as a
tent and stationing ten men at a time as sentinels, they slept the
first unbroken sleep they had known in five months. The tired-out
sentinels must have fallen asleep at their places; for just as day
dawned came a hundred savages, stealthy and silent, seeking the ship
that had slipped {103} out from Oonalas
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