the fugitive took an oar. The agent who had charge of the expedition
required their passports: among the number the irregularity of
Piotrowski's escaped notice. The prayers and prostrations went on
during the voyage, which lasted a fort-night. One morning the early
sunshine glittered on the gilded domes of Archangel: the vessel soon
touched the shore, and his passport was returned to him uninspected,
with the small sum he had earned by rowing.

He had reached his goal; a thousand miles of deadly suffering and
danger lay behind him; he was on the shores of the White Sea, with
vessels of every nation lying at anchor ready to bear him away to
freedom. Yet he was careful not to commit himself by any imprudence or
inconsistency. He went with the pilgrims to their vast crowded
lodging-house, and for several days joined in their visits to the
different churches of Archangel; but when they embarked again for the
holy island he stayed behind under the pretext of fatigue, but really
to go unobserved to the harbor. There lay the ships from every part of
the world, with their flags floating from the masts. Alas! alas! on
every wharf a Russian sentinel mounted guard day and night,
challenging every one who passed, and on the deck of each ship there
was another. In vain he risked the consequences of dropping his
character of an ignorant Siberian peasant so far as to speak to a
group of sailors, first in French and then in German; they understood
neither: the idlers on the quays began to gather round in idle
curiosity, and he had to desist. In vain, despite the icy coldness of
the water, he tried swimming in the bay to approach some vessel for
the chance of getting speech of the captain or crew unseen by the
sentinel. In vain he resorted to every device which desperation could
suggest. After three days he was forced to look the terrible truth in
the face: there was no escape possible from Archangel.