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.