It was an inhospitable shore, seen through the shreds of mist that were driving in on us, but never was a heartier prayer of thanks sent up than that which rose from the "Lass" when the news had spread. The wind was falling and a fog setting in, so that we were long in making the shore, which seemed deserted. Not a curl of smoke went upward from all its length.
Ruth and I stood on the poop, hand in hand, watching that long-desired shore until the fog had thickened and the wind dropped. At this Radisson ordered the anchor put out, and I perforce assisted at the task. When I returned to Ruth she was staring over the rail strangely.
"Davie," she asked in a low voice, "does it not seem to you that the ship is lower in the water this morning?"
"I had not seen it," I replied carelessly. As I looked overside with her my heart leaped up, for in truth the ship was sitting low. I knew that the leak had gained on us, but evidently it was nothing serious, for the men had made no outcry about it.
However, I had scant time to reassure Ruth, for presently Radisson approached us. Grim tagged at his heels, for since my father's illness the dog had taken to following the old man around.
"Davie," he said, "pick out what men can row and get the longboat over. We must make a camp here and relieve the worst cases among the sick, then we can go on to Albany, which I take to be the nearest post."
Save for scattered cakes, the bay was free enough of ice, but the fog now had almost hid the shore from sight. Only three of the crew were able to row—Black Michael, Gib and the sailor Eoghan. That made the four of us, however, and we made shift to get the longboat over the side, by the help of Radisson and Ruth. It was a sad and terrible sight, to watch those others, who had been strong men all, lying about the decks or gazing on us with a wild stare of hope.
When the boat was over, we began lading her as our captain ordered us, with canvas, stores, powder, fusils and a host of other things.
"We will set out a camp," declared Radisson, when at length the boat was laden to the gunwales. "Then the sick will go on shore while I gather herbs and green things which I know well. With these, we will be enabled to overcome the scurvy in a few days, I trust."
What might have passed for a feeble cheer went up from the pathetic group above us, but even as Radisson leaped down into the boat, Eoghan went forward over his oar with a single groan. I tried to pull him up, but the poor fellow could not move. The scurvy had taken hold on him of a sudden, and he muttered that his joints were aflame. Radisson would have taken his place, but with a flash Ruth was over the rail and had pushed him away.
"I can row as well as you," she laughed. "Save your strength, sir! Yours is of more worth to us than is mine."
"Aye, let the lassie go!" And with amazement I beheld my father clinging to the rail above and staring down with ghastly eyes. "God speed your errand and give you His blessing!" Methought he spoke more to me than Radisson, and later this reflection has comforted me, for this was the last word I ever had with my father Fergus.
So Radisson nodded to Ruth and we pushed away from the ship. Then for the first time I noticed that Grim had followed us into the boat and was crouched in the stern beside the old white-haired wanderer. Over us gathered the other dogs, and the last token we had as we pulled away into the fog was the full-throated bark of Tam Graham's Sandy.
There was no wind and the fog lay thick and wet about us. Ahead rose the gray line of the shore, grim enough for all its touch of green. As I looked back at the ship I realized more than ever the truth behind those words of Homer, beaten into my head by my father—"Let us go up the sounding seas!" For the water seemed to rise behind until they met and blended with the gray wall of mist above; and in the midst, dim and ghostly, hung the "Lass o' Dee." That picture clung long in my memory—that, and the brown shoulders of Gib o' Clarclach rising and falling before me on the after-thwart.
Presently Radisson cried to us to cease rowing, and I glanced over my shoulder to see a line of black rocks a few yards away. Black Michael, in the bow, fended us in and sprang ashore with a shout of rejoicing which we all echoed as we followed him, even Grim catching the enthusiasm and giving vent to a series of loud barks.
Bleak rocks lay before and about us, interspersed with small trees and bushes. To one side a little cascading brook trickled down over the rocks into the sea with a quiet murmur. But there was no sign of human life within our limited range of vision.
We were all chilled to the bone by that heavy, dank fog, which by now had closed in thicker than ever, so that when Radisson said he would start a fire we began unloading the boat with alacrity. He disappeared into the bushes, soon emerging with an armful of sticks and bark. By means of my flint and steel we soon had a fire blazing, dragged poor Eoghan up from the boat, and clustered joyfully about the warmth.
"David," said Radisson after a little, "do you and your sister come with me. We must see to curing this scurvy, which I fear is getting into my old bones at last."
Catching Ruth's hand I pulled her up with a laugh and we left Black Michael and Gib staring at us dully, across the half-senseless body of Eoghan.
"Wait, lad," Radisson pointed to a clump of bushes. "Do you stop here within sight of the camp. In this fog it were an easy matter to get lost beyond repair. Call to us every few moments and pluck all these leaves you can carry. Chew some of them well, while Ruth and I go on after others."
I fell to work on the bushes, cramming my mouth full of the leaves and stuffing my pockets with them. I did not neglect to call out frequently, Ruth's silvery voice rising clearly in response. Meanwhile I carried some of the leaves to the men in camp, and much to my surprise saw Gib o' Clarclach just giving some to Black Michael, so I merely thrust a few into Eoghan's mouth and bade him chew for his life. It was plain that Gib had small need of Radisson's services in this land.
In no great while Ruth and the old man rejoined us, laden down with roots and leaves of divers shapes. These we bruised between stones and with them filled a kettle which had been fetched from the ship. To this was put water, and the kettle was then set over the fire.
"Now," ordered Radisson, "do you stay here, Mistress Ruth, while we go fetch a load of the sick. Keep this brew simmering, so it may be ready on our return."
We stepped toward the boat, but Gib and Black Michael made no move to arise. Radisson spoke to them sharply, whereat Gib growled sullenly in French.
"Do the work yourself, an' you will! I be not going to budge from solid earth for you or—"
He got no farther, for Radisson took one long step to his side, his stern old face livid with sudden fury. Seizing the man by the throat, he lifted him with one hand and dashed him back to the ground, like as I have seen my father dash a spider from him.
"Obey me, you dog! Get to the boat, both of you, lest I forget myself!"
Coming from the old man of seventy, the words may seem ludicrous enough; but there was that in his voice which brought the two men to their feet without a word more. Sullenly they stepped into the boat while Radisson watched them. Then he turned to me.
"In with you, Davie! We'll leave Ruth to take care of Eoghan."
"Willingly," she laughed gayly, then added more soberly, "You'll bring father back in the first boat, Davie?"
"That we will, lass," I made hearty answer, and she watched us off, her hand resting on Grim's head. The ship was hid from us in the fog, but Radisson had her compass-bearing from the shore. Now there happened a fearsome thing, a thing which has made my blood run chill many a night since.
Just before the shore was closed from sight, I saw Grim lift his head from Ruth's hand and utter one long howl. So mournful was that voice, so terrible in the loneliness around, that it drew a curse from Black Michael, and I shivered despite myself. And in this same moment came another howl—but now from the fog ahead of us—a long deep cry which I recognized for old Sandy's, and it was cut short in the midst as by his master's hand. But Tam Graham was lying sick between decks, as we well knew.
And with that I felt that something was wrong. I believe that we all sensed it, for the others fell to their oars and Radisson's shaggy white brows drew far down. Knowing Grim as I did, I was far more fearful than the others; only once before had I heard such sound from his throat, and that was on the day my mother died.
So as I pulled I cast glances over my shoulder, seeking the ship, and sudden remembrance of Ruth's words that morning put haste into my oar. My mind was full of its uneasy fear, and it was full five minutes before I realized that we should have come to the ship ere this. I could see naught of her in the fog, and when I looked to Radisson I saw him studying his compass and peering about.
"Have we lost the 'Lass'?" I cried between strokes.
"Strange!" he muttered, frowning. "I had her bearings right enough, but—"
Black Michael cried out in Gaelic that we were of a surety bewitched, and for a moment my heart failed me and I stared at Radisson in horror.
"Her cable was not strong," spoke up Gib, who had lost his surliness of a sudden. "Mayhap it parted and sent her adrift."
"There is no wind to drift her," answered Radisson, perplexed. "Yet we heard the dogs howl plain enough. What make you of it, Davie?"
"God knows!" I half sobbed, staring back over my shoulder in the shuddering fog, that seemed to stifle us, so thick was it. An old word came into my head, and out I blurted it. "Ill's the wind when dogs howl."
At this Black Michael uttered a savage Gaelic oath that was half pure fear, and paused on his oar. For a little we drifted thus, the sullen seas heaving beneath us, driving us slowly up and down yet giving us no sign of what lay beyond that curtain of gray. It was uncanny, and I shivered again until my oar was all but lost.
"Give me that fusil," commanded Radisson. I took up the gun, which was ready loaded, and passed it to him. Lifting it, he fired in the air. There was no answer save a dull echo and the lap-lap of water on our sides. Black Michael went gray with sheer fright.
"Strange," exclaimed Radisson again, and even his deep voice was shaken. "What think you of it, Jean?"
I remembered later how then he turned to the man he hated above all others, and I respected him the more for it. Gib, for it was he whom Radisson addressed, leaned over and snatched something from the water.
"This, Sieur Radisson."
He held up a dripping object. We all stared at it, then I felt my heart leap, and I uttered a cry of horror—for the thing was the front cover of my father's Bible!