A HARD STRUGGLE 213 



actly what the Russians would call a 'polynja.' It 

 was covered with young ice, too weak to bear. We 

 started confidently alongside it in a southwesterly 

 direction (true), in the belief that we should soon find 

 a way across; but 'soon' did not come. Just where 

 we expected to find a crossing, an overwhelming sight 

 presented itself to our gaze ; the pool stretched away 

 in a southwesterly direction to the very horizon, and 

 we could see no end to it ! In the mirage on the 

 horizon, a couple of detached blocks of ice rose above 

 the level of the pool ; they appeared to be floating in 

 open water, changed constantly in shape, and disappeared 

 and reappeared. Everything seemed to indicate that 

 the pool debouched right into the sea in the west. 

 From the top of a high hummock I could, however, 

 with the glass, see ice on the other side, heightened 

 by the looming. But it was anything but certain that 

 it really was situated at the western end of the pool ; 

 more probably, it indicated a curve in the direction of 

 the latter. What was to be done here } To eet over 

 seemed for the moment an impossibility. The ice 

 was too thin to bear and too thick to set the kayaks 

 through, even if we should mend them. How long 

 it might take at this time of year for the ice to 

 become strong enough to bear, I did not know, but 

 one day would scarcely do it. To settle down and wait, 

 therefore, seemed too much. How far the pool 

 extended and how lono; we mic^ht have to travel 



