We seemed on the very brink of eternity, gazing into the unknown, and as the drowning man reviews his whole life in a second, we in like manner saw our past, and peered into the future.
Our paralysing fear was fleeting; another moment and our boat's head flew to the left, our craft quivered all over, and then head first down the rapid she plunged into the swirling pool, with a feeling as if she were going up on the other side of the dancing waves.
The danger was past, and our steersman's recently grim face assumed a look of happy content.
This rock, be it explained, is the most dangerous point between Russia and the Gulf of Bothnia; many and many a tar-boat has been shattered and lives lost at this spot, as it stands at a corner of a sharp turn of the cataract, and a regular whirlpool is always seething at its base—the water forming a fall of two or three feet—swirling round and going up again like a sort of wave. There is only one possible way to pass in safety, and that is to take the boat right up to the rock and turn, when almost too late, with such dexterity that the boat descends on the falling wave at so wild a pace that she crosses the whirlpool too quickly to be sucked under, and then bounds away safely on the opposite breaker.
It was horrible—but it was grand.
We sat still and silent.
CHAPTER XIX
SALMON—ULEÅBORG
To say we were tired hardly describes the situation. We were absolutely exhausted. So exhausted, in fact, were we, after our late experiences, that when—twenty-eight hours after leaving Kajana, twenty-eight hours of constant strain—we got into the little steamer at Muhos which was to convey us the last part of our journey to Uleåborg, we were literally worn out. This steamer plied to and fro on a wide stretch of the famous Uleå river, where the stream was quick and yet not a cataract. It was only a little vessel, without a cabin of any kind, and with hard uninviting wooden benches running along its stern end for the accommodation of passengers. We went on board before she started, and, feeling that we at last had a chance to rest, lay down all six speechless on the floor or the benches of the little boat, our heads supported merely by a rug or a travelling bag, and apparently fell asleep at once, for when we woke it was to find that a dozen peasants had assembled on board, all of whom were eagerly discussing us and staring at the sight of six exhausted strangers, whom report told them had descended the famous rapids the previous night with considerable danger. Even that short sleep refreshed us somewhat, and, but for the discomforts we had brought away with us from the hideous little gray house, we might have dreamed on for hours.
Oh, how glad we felt as our little droschkies drew up in front of the grand-looking stone hotel at Uleåborg, which proved as uncomfortable inside as it was magnificent in appearance outside.
Having secured our rooms, out we all sailed with our little bundles of clean clothes packed under our arms, and as quickly as possible made our way to the public bath-houses, feeling that it would require all the bath-women in Finland to make us clean again.