330 THE BREAK-UP OF THE ICE 



of a perfect babel of birds. Above our heads we con- 

 tinually heard \he gag, gag, of geese and the harsh bark 

 of swans, as flock after flock hurried past us to the 

 tundra. Wherever there was a little open water between 

 the ice-floes and pack-ice, crowds of gulls were fishing as 

 if they had not had a meal for a week, and their derisive 

 laugh, as they quarrelled over their prey, seemed to mock 

 our misfortunes, while ever and anon the wild weird cries 

 of the black-throated and red-throated divers, like the 

 distant scream of tortured children, came from the creek 

 opposite. A few flocks of wild ducks also passed us, 

 and along the shore small birds flitted from bush to 

 bush in hitherto unknown profusion. Bramblings and 

 white wagtails passed in pairs, shore larks in small 

 flocks, and redpolls in large flocks, and I shot a solitary 

 wheatear. In the midst of his troubles on board his 

 half-wrecked steamer, Captain Wiggins seized his gun 

 and shot a goose, which was flying over the ship, and 

 which proved to be the little white-fronted goose, doubt- 

 less the species which I had missed shooting the day 

 before. 



The ice remained quiet until about midnight, when 

 an enormous pressure from above came on somewhat 

 suddenly. It had apparently broken up the great field 

 of ice to the north of the Kureika, but not to an extent 

 sufficient to relieve the whole of the pressure. The 

 water in the Kureika once more rose rapidly. The 

 immense field of pack-ice began to move up-stream at 

 the rate of five or six knots an hour. The Thames was 

 soon afloat again, and driven with the ice up the river, 

 she was knocked and bumped along the rocky shore, and 

 her stern-post twisted to such an extent that she began 

 to make water rapidly. At 9 o'clock on Sunday, the 

 3rd of June, all hands left her, and stood watching on the 



