A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 85 



aDd we therefore went back to the kitchen to fetch our 

 things. The baby was asleep, but we left a tin of con- 

 densed milk with the poor young mother, who seemed 

 to look upon the English lettering on the label as a sort 

 of talisman. At any rate we hoped that her faith in it 

 might be of some comfort to her, even if it did not 

 benefit the child. But in the usual leisurely Siberian 

 fashion, these preparations, and the inevitable farewell 

 cup of tea, all took up some time, and it was already 

 five o'clock when we went to embark. Meanwhile the 

 prognostications of the divers had been justified. An 

 angry screen of clouds covered the eastern sky, and the 

 surface of the water was rufiled by the wind. However, 

 for the first two hours all went well, for we rowed 

 slowly against the stream inside the barrier of ice. The 

 water here was quite calm, but beyond we could see that 

 the river was rising under the wind. By and by we 

 came to the end of this ice breakwater, and were exposed 

 to the full force of the wind, which came rollicking 

 unchecked over two thousand miles of tundra. The 

 river was now flecked with foam, while the choppy 

 waves lashed against the ice and pounded the loose 

 cakes together. The sound of their dissolution, which 

 had lately been so hushed and sad, was now a continual 

 crashing roar. However, Michael Petrovitch decided 

 that it would be better to try and cross to the other 

 shore at this point rather than higher up, where the river 

 was wider. He himself was at the steering paddle, and 

 Vassilli and Nill at the oars. It was soon clear that we 

 should not have an easy passage. For every stroke we 

 scarcely seemed to gain a foot of headway, and to make 



