When the river broke, great masses of packed ice and large floes floated up and down stream for weeks. The only possible way to cross then was by boat; a strong sampan hauled and pushed through the loose ice by three to half a dozen men--that done in the darkness was as unpleasant as it was dangerous. It was very slow, often requiring hours, and with tide and ice both against the boat almost impossible. The cost of the ferry instead of being the usual few cents amounted to dollars. Etzel on the night of March 27 had to pay seven dollars to be ferried across with his message; I was the last correspondent to cross the ice on a _piza_ and the first to be ferried over the river in a boat, and the highest charge I had to pay was six dollars for a ferry after dark. With the despatch of the telegram our day’s work was over, and that of the next began. There was the crossing of the river to be made again, people to be interviewed, and when the tired correspondent got to bed, he might be disturbed by the noise of passing artillery or troops--movements we deemed it a part of our duty to watch--of rifle fire, even the booming of big guns. One morning I was aroused at two o’clock by a knocking at my door and the startling information that the expected bombardment of Newchwang had at last commenced. I was out in the dark, in the salt marshes, tumbling into mudholes and tiring myself needlessly until daybreak. It was a false alarm. The Russians mistook a pilot’s flare on the bar for the enemy, and fired so furiously that they sunk a helpless Chinese junk with thirty-five hands, killed three men and wounded seven on another, and succeeded in working the native population into a state of panic. By unflagging energy and unceasing vigilance we were able to keep ourselves _au courant_ with local changes and passing events in our immediate neighbourhood. This was insufficient. We wished to be informed as to the progress of the war. Many rumours reached us of the propinquity of the Japanese forces, and as the Russians would not permit us to wander beyond the neighbouring villages we were forced to rely upon native newsmongers.