The Great Siberian Railway by Francis E. Clark

Two Mississippi River captains were once conversing as to the merits of their respective steamers as light-draught boats. One claimed that his steamer could run in a good heavy dew. The other, not to be outdone, claimed that that was nothing, for his boat could run on the sweat of an ice-pitcher. It is this latter kind of boat that is needed on the upper reaches of the Amour River, as we began to think before we were many miles from Blagavestchensk. We had scarcely gone five miles before we heard that peculiar crunching, scraping, gritty sound which we came to know so well. The paddle-wheels revolved fruitlessly for a few minutes, but it was no use, and we knew that we were hard and fast aground in less than three feet of water. For hours the boatmen worked with might and main, and at last we could feel that there was water under our keel and that we were making slow progress against the current once more. But we had scarcely been moving another hour when c-r-u-n-c-h, s-c-r-a-p-e, s-t-o-p, and there we were stuck on another sand-bank. The captain seemed to tear his hair in despair, and well he might, for Stretinsk was 1187 versts away, and we had scarcely come ten versts in ten hours from Blagavestchensk. If it requires ten hours to do ten versts, how long will it take to reach Stretinsk, was an appalling problem in mental arithmetic.

However, we made somewhat better progress after getting off the second time, and the hope that springs eternal in the human breast kept us from despair of reaching in time the important engagement at our journey's end.