I saw that my nerves were somewhat shaky, and I resolved to leave the spot.  I pulled the anchor chain, the boat began to move; then I felt a resistance.  I pulled harder, the anchor did not come up; it had caught on something at the bottom of the river and I could not raise it.  I began pulling again, but all in vain.  Then, with my oars, I turned the boat with its head up stream to change the position of the anchor.  It was no use, it was still caught.  I flew into a rage and shook the chain furiously.  Nothing budged.  I sat down, disheartened, and began to reflect on my situation.  I could not dream of breaking this chain, or detaching it from the boat, for it was massive and was riveted at the bows to a piece of wood as thick as my arm.  However, as the weather was so fine I thought that it probably would not be long before some fisherman came to my aid.  My ill-luck had quieted me.  I sat down and was able, at length, to smoke my pipe.  I had a bottle of rum; I drank two or three glasses, and was able to laugh at the situation.  It was very warm; so that, if need be, I could sleep out under the stars without any great harm.

All at once there was a little knock at the side of the boat.  I gave a start, and a cold sweat broke out all over me.  The noise was, doubtless, caused by some piece of wood borne along by the current, but that was enough, and I again became a prey to a strange nervous agitation.  I seized the chain and tensed my muscles in a desperate effort.  The anchor held firm.  I sat down again, exhausted.

The river had slowly become enveloped in a thick white fog which lay close to the water, so that when I stood up I could see neither the river, nor my feet, nor my boat; but could perceive only the tops of the reeds, and farther off in the distance the plain, lying white in the moonlight, with big black patches rising up from it towards the sky, which were formed by groups of Italian poplars.  I was as if buried to the waist in a cloud of cotton of singular whiteness, and all sorts of strange fancies came into my mind.  I thought that someone was trying to climb into my boat which I could no longer distinguish, and that the river, hidden by the thick fog, was full of strange creatures which were swimming all around me.  I felt horribly uncomfortable, my forehead felt as if it had a tight band round it, my heart beat so that it almost suffocated me, and, almost beside myself, I thought of swimming away from the place.  But then, again, the very idea made me tremble with fear.  I saw myself, lost, going by guesswork in this heavy fog, struggling about amid the grasses and reeds which I could not escape, my breath rattling with fear, neither seeing the bank, nor finding my boat; and it seemed as if I would feel myself dragged down by the feet to the bottom of these black waters.

In fact, as I should have had to ascend the stream at least five hundred metres before finding a spot free from grasses and rushes where I could land, there were nine chances to one that I could not find my way in the fog and that I should drown, no matter how well I could swim.