There he had
a fit of coughing, such as any man might have on such a night, and
at the most deadly time of the year. He waited ten minutes, perhaps,
coughing at intervals, and at length Kosmaroff came to him, not from the
land, but across the moving floes from the direction of the bridge.
"The water is running freely," he said, "through the middle arch. I have
a boat out there on the ice. Come!"
And he took the bread from Martin's arms, and led the way on to the
river that he knew so well in all its varying moods. The boat was lying
on the ice a few yards above the massive pier of the bridge, almost at
the edge of the water, which could be heard gurgling and lapping as it
flowed towards the sea with its burden of snow and ice. It was so dark
that Martin, stumbling over the chaos of ice, fell against the boat
before he saw it. It was one of the rough punts of a primeval simplicity
of build used by the sand-workers of the Vistula.
Kosmaroff gave his orders shortly and sharply. He was at home on the
unstable surface, which was half water, half ice. He was commander now,
and spoke without haste or hesitation.
"Help me," he said, "to carry her to the edge, but do not stand upright.
Pages:
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384
385
386
387
388
389
390
391
392
393