300 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEl 



stillness. Sometimes the ice was new and rotten, and 

 the bow of the Ragna crumpled and tore the floes as 

 easily as a knife cuts through a sheet of cardboard, 

 opening up a lane of open water. Others, however, 

 were stronger, and the ship grazed their flanks with 

 a bumping jar that made her shiver from stem to 

 stern. Between the ice, the water was black and oily 

 — such a surface as you may sometimes see in a wood 

 where the pool is much overhung by trees. It seemed 

 strange that such dark, forbidding water could lie under 

 such a clear sky. 



As we were thus watching the war of the ice with 

 the bow of the Ragna, we heard half a dozen strange 

 but very happy voices, and over the floes came a flock 

 of ivory gulls out of the north. Their wings, built 

 to battle with the gales that blow over the polar seas, 

 met this little wind with a contained strength that 

 gave their flight a curious butterfly buoyancy. Their 

 voices, which reminded me of the talk of the common 

 terns on our English dunes, were gay and careless as 

 the wind they conquered. Rising and falling in sport 

 they crossed our bow, and disappeared over the floes 

 to the southward. 



At noon we drew clear of the ice, and were soon steam- 

 ing full speed ahead. All the following day, the weather 

 was fair, and as we approached Waigatz Island, bird life 

 increased. On 24th September four fulmars hawked 

 round the ship, half a dozen scoters rushed across our 

 bows, and a few immature kittiwakes appeared. The 

 next day, 25th September, was a red-letter day, for in 

 the evening our wireless operator succeeded in calling 



