They moved reluctantly aft, away from the wall’s protection, until they were standing at the gunwale. Four feet of black space separated them from the other barge.
“It’s an easy jump,” Ken muttered.
“Sure,” Sandy agreed. They couldn’t see the water, swirling and eddying below, but they could hear it sucking and gurgling against the hulls of the barges. “But I’d hate to miss it. If we fell down between these two tubs—”
“We won’t miss it,” Ken assured him.
He leaped lightly across the expanse of treacherous water. For an instant, as he landed on the far side, he waved his arms to maintain his balance on the eighteen-inch-wide timber that formed the barge’s bulwark. Then he steadied himself and reached a hand back toward Sandy.
“O.K.?” he asked, as the other landed beside him.
Sandy sighed with relief. “O.K.”
They stood there for a moment, considering the best way to get forward toward the cabin.
There was clearly only one route to take. It would be impossible to cross the mound of stone in the hold without causing a clatter that would reveal their presence. They would have to walk around the edge of the barge, along the narrow bulwark.
Ken started toward the left—the side of the barge away from the dock. As soon as he reached the corner and moved carefully around it, to start aft, the wind caught him so fiercely that he had to drop to his knees to keep from being blown off his feet.