308 A SUMMER ON THE YENESEI 



were obliged to curb our impatience until we reached 

 Hammerfest. 



Next morning I was awakened at 4 a.m. by a heavy 

 roll of the ship, which swept every loose object in the 

 cabin, including my own person, into a heap on the 

 floor. At breakfast out came the fiddles for the first 

 time on the voyage, and the meal was eaten under 

 difficulties. It was a fine clear morning, and the Ragna 

 was wallowing westwards through a mammoth swell. 

 Overhead a couple of hundred kittiwakes followed the 

 ship, and about a score of pomatorhine skuas — passengers 

 from Novaya Zemlya — followed the kittiwakes. Now 

 and then, when they spied some piece of jetsam in the 

 water, two or three birds swooped down to squabble 

 over it, but, for the most part, they hung above us in 

 a cloud. When the ship forged ahead, as at a given 

 signal the whole host moved forward in order to keep 

 station over the mast. I cannot tell how it was, unless 

 perhaps it may have been the influence of so many 

 watching eyes all fixed upon us, but after a while there 

 seemed to be something ominous in this immense flock 

 of birds with their straining but motionless wings 

 silhouetted against the sky, and beautiful as they were, 

 I felt that I almost hated them and their watchful 

 escort. 



At noon the wind freshened, until by sunset a regular 

 gale was blowing. The Ragna took little water over 

 the side. She was, however, making a good deal of 

 water in her forehold, for her plates had been badly 

 strained while ramming the ice. By and by, the deck 

 cargo began to work loose. The mate and two seamen 



