He felt Sandy drop down behind him a moment later.
The vicious gust blew itself out shortly, but not until both boys were stiff from holding that huddled position in the freezing air.
“Come on.” Ken barely breathed the words as he got slowly to his feet and started aft again.
There were other gusts after that, not quite so fierce as the first one, but strong enough so that Ken could feel himself tottering toward the sharp-edged pile of stone on his right. And when he leaned his weight against the wind, to steady himself, the black water below seemed to rise toward him, its oily surface glinting with menace.
Halfway along the length of the barge they had to rest, lowering themselves to their knees again and grasping at the splintery timbers with numb hands. The lighted window they were heading for still seemed a long distance away.
When they finally reached the small aft deck, and dropped down from their hazardous perch, they huddled together for a minute. Both of them were shaking, partly from cold, partly from the nervous tension of their precarious journey.
But as soon as Ken could breathe evenly again he started toward the cabin, feeling Sandy behind him. He headed toward the rear corner of the little structure. There was a window in the back wall, too, as he could see, and on that side they would be protected from the worst of the wind.
Bracing himself lightly against the cabin wall for support, he raised himself upright from a crouched position, until he could peer through the narrow slit between the imperfectly drawn dark curtains. When Sandy rose up beside him he shifted slightly to make room for him. Then they turned and looked at each other in the faint light that came through the slit.
“And we risked our necks to see that!” Sandy breathed.
Ken had no answer.