We passed the rest of the day at Tchekafki, being unable to proceed to the shipwrecked vessel, or to return to Bolcheretsk. The sky, instead of clearing up, became covered on all sides with still blacker and thicker clouds. Soon after our arrival, a dreadful tempest arose, and the Bolchaïa-reka became agitated to an extreme violence, even so high up as our hamlet. Its billows surprised me, because of the little extent and depth of the river in this place. The point north-east of its mouth, and the low land, which this gale of wind extended, formed but one breaker, over which the waves rolled with a horrible noise. The gale was not likely to abate, but I was on shore, and thought myself able to brave it. I took it into my head therefore, to go a hunting in the environs of the hamlet. I had scarcely advanced a few steps, when the wind seized me, and I felt myself stagger; my courage however did not fail me, and I persevered; but coming to a stream, which it was necessary to cross in a boat, I ran the most imminent risk, and returned immediately, well punished for my petty presumption. These dreadful hurricanes being very common at this season, it is not be wondered at that shipwrecks are so frequent on these coasts: the vessels are so small as to have but one mast; and, what is still worse, the sailors who manage them, if report may be credited, have too little skill to be confided in. The next day we resumed our journey, and arrived at Bolcheretsk in the dusk of the evening. As I forsee that my stay here will probably be long, from the necessity of waiting till sledges can be used, I shall proceed with my descriptions, and the recital of what I have seen myself, or learned from my conversations with the Russians and Kamtschadales. I shall begin with the town, or fort of Bolcheretsk, for so it is called, in Russia (_ostrog_, or _krepost_).