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."