They let themselves down, found the water shoulder-high, presently only waist-high. At this level it remained for another two miles, and they dragged the float by the lines. Moses Deakin was in the lead, bent over, straining at the ropes with his immense strength, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the shore. Soon this came into sight ahead, the low ground dark with trees. In twenty minutes the four men were carrying their burdens up from the water, staggering through snow and shore ice up to the line of trees, where they sank down in absolute exhaustion.
“No time to waste here,” panted the Bostonnais, gazing into the storm and wiping the spray from his face, his great beard heaving above his chest. “We’re seven or eight leagues east o’ Nelson. No use goin’ west—such o’ them fools as gets ashore will all head that way.”
“Then where the devil do we head for—New Severn?” demanded one of the three rogues, ironically.
“Ay, New Severn.”
“The English company hath a gallows there, master.”
Deakin glared from bloodshot eyes at the objector. Then, realizing the need for patience, he stooped and drew with his finger in the sand a rough right angle, indicating the line of the shore to the west.
“Now look ’ee! We be forty league south o’ Danish river. How be we to get there? Not by walking, wi’ the woods full o’ French and English dogs! Besides, by the shore ’tis more like eighty leagues than forty. Therefore, turn toward Severn. Ye fool, we may not have a mile to go! We’ll find redskins anywhere about here, at the first creek we come by, and Injun canoes too. They’re all down at the coast for the trade, them that don’t live here. Follow the coast east and we’ll come on ’em, certain. Then we ha’ the tarpaulins for sails to our canoe. Blood and wounds! Get a canoe and head north—what better d’ye want? Canoe can go over the shallows—French ships must go six leagues out to sea to find a draft o’ seven fathom! D’ye get it in your thick head?”
“Ay, master——”
“Keep it there, then.” Deakin knocked the man sprawling and leaped to his feet. “Shanks’ mare and away! The storm be falling by to-night, most like.”
The four men rose and went lurching off along the edge of the trees, following the low line of the shore and keeping their eyes open for the first sign of a creek. Half frozen though they were, they dared not linger here to light a fire.