s would
make a hundred of these."

"Then they must break the vessels to pieces, Godfrey?"

"No, they are built very stout and strong, and very big. They get broken
to pieces if the sea drives them against rocks, and sometimes in very
great storms get so beaten by the waves that the planks open and the
water runs in and they sink."

"I should not like to go to sea if the waves were like that," Luka said
thoughtfully. "This is terrible. Why, if we had not come ashore in time
the boat would have sunk."

"She would have made a good fight for it, Luka. With the apron tied in
round us we could stand a very heavy sea. So long as we keep her head to
the waves the water might wash over us, but it could not get in; and
even if it did fill the space where we sleep, the compartments at the
ends are quite buoyant enough to keep her up."

"What would you do if you were out in what you call a great sea,
Godfrey?"

"I should lash the mast and the sail and our paddles and the firewood
together, fasten our mooring rope to them and throw them overboard, that
would keep us head to sea--because these things would all float in the
water, and the wind would not get hold of them. They call a contrivance
like that a floating anchor. Then we would both lie down in the bottom,
button the flaps over the holes in the cover, and lie there as snugly as
possible. You see our weight would be down quite low in the boat then,
and that would keep her steady. Oh, we should get on capitally if there
were plenty of room for us to drift."

"How far have we to go now?"

"I can't exactly tell you. I wish I knew. From the long jagged cape,
which is the northern point of land on the western side of the Gulf of
Yenesei and forms the separation between it and the mouth of the Gulf of
Obi, to Waigatz Straits, between the mainland and Waigatz Island, which
lies south of the island called Nova Zembla, is about two hundred and
fifty miles in a straight line, but I should think it is quite three
times that if we have to follow all the ins and outs of the shore. From
there to Archangel, if we go in to Archangel, is about three hundred and
fifty miles more, cutting across everything. If we had a current with
us, like the stream of the Yenesei, we should make very short work of
it; but unfortunately there is nothing of that sort. Paddling steadily
we might go three miles an hour--say a hundred miles in three days. If
we had wind that would help us, of course we s