A NARROW ESCAPE 89 



of ice, being forced to leave it on the shore five or six 

 miles off. We determined to put the bulk of our baggage 

 under the charge of two yemschiks and to return with 

 the other men in the boat. 



We felt rather nervous as we entered the boats and 

 put to sea on the open water across which we had sledged 

 so recently, and we had some little difficulty in finding a 

 solid piece of ice on which to land. The central ice of 

 the Petchora was evidently on the eve of breaking up. 

 Every nerve was strained to drag the boats across the 

 mile of ice, and relaunch them on the safe side of the 

 river without a moment's unnecessary loss of time. It 

 was past midnight, and at any moment the crash might 

 come. The ice was obviously under great pressure. 

 Cracks running for miles with a sound like distant thunder 

 warned us that a mighty power was all but upon us, a 

 force which seemed for the moment to impress the mind 

 with a greater sense of power than even the crushing 

 weight of water at Niagara, a force which breaks up ice 

 more than a mile wide, at least three feet thick, and 

 weighted with another three feet of snow, at the rate 

 of 100 miles in the twenty-four hours. It was eight 

 o'clock in the morning when we landed in Ust-Zylma, 

 and heartily thankful we were to find ourselves once 

 more safe in our quarters. We were hungry and dead 

 tired after the excitement was over, and after a hasty 

 breakfast we were glad to turn into our hammocks. We 

 slept for a couple of hours, and then, looking out of the 

 window, we found the crash had come ; the mighty river 

 Petchora was a field of pack-ice and ice-floes, marching 

 past towards the sea at the rate of six miles an hour. 

 We ran out on to the banks to find half the inhabitants of 

 Ust-Zylma watching the impressive scene. 



