ip manned for the most part
by land-lubbers.

As they scudded before the wind, Bering found that the shore was
trending south towards the home harbour. They were following that long
line of reefed islands, the Aleutians, which project out from Alaska
towards Asia. A roar of reefs through the fog warned them off the
land; but one midnight of August the lead recorded less than three feet
of water under the keel. Before there was time for panic, a current
that rushed between rocks threw the vessel into a deep pool of
backwash; and there she lay till morning. By this time many of the
sailors were down with scurvy. It became necessary to land for fresh
water. One man died as he was lifted from the decks to the shore.
Bering could not stand unaided. Twenty emaciated sailors were taken
out of their berths and propped up on the sand. And the water they
took from this rocky island was brackish, and only increased the
ravages of the malady.

From the date of this ill-fated landing, a {23} pall--a state of
paralysis, of inaction and fear--seemed to hang over the ship. The
tide-rip was mistaken for earthquake; and when the lurid glare of
volcanic smoke came through the fog, the sailors huddled panic-stricken
below-decks and refused to obey orders. Every man became his own
master; and if that ever works well on land, it means disaster at sea.
Thus it has almost always been with the inefficient and the misfits who
have gone out in ships--land-lubbers trying to be navigators. Just
when Bering's crew should have braced themselves to resist the greatest
stress, they collapsed and huddled together with bowed heads, inviting
the worst that fate could do to them. When the tide-rip came through
the reefs from the north along the line of the Aleutian Islands with
the swiftness of a mill-race, the men had literally to be held to the
rudder at pistol point and beaten up the masts with the flat of the
officers' swords. But while they skulked, a hurricane rolled up the
fog; and the ship could but scud under bare poles before the wind.
Rations were now down to mouldy sea-biscuits, and only fifteen casks of
water remained for three-score men.

Out of the turmoil of waters and wind along {24} the wave-lashed rocks
came the hoarse, shrill, strident cry of the sea-lion, the boom and
snort of the great walrus, the roar of the seal rookeries, where
millions of cubs wallowed, and where bulls lashed themselves in their
rage and fought fo