So it was no dream, and he was alive! Crawford relaxed and closed his eyes again. He could realize that Moses Deakin had saved him, could dimly grasp that it had been done to repay his own act in setting the Bostonnais free. He could even figure out to some extent all that had passed, since Deakin was now heading for the Danish river. But nothing mattered. Weariness returned upon him, and despite the hunger gnawing at his vitals, he fell back into slumber.
Then oaths and wild curses, with a brazen roar of maniacal fury from Moses Deakin, wakened him some time afterwards and brought him wide-eyed. The four men in the canoe were pouring forth a storm of bitter imprecations, which for once were sincerely heartfelt. Crawford, seeing the men in the bow shaking fists to starboard, turned his head.
There, far out beyond the shallows that hedged the whole low coast, he descried the white sails of three tall ships heading to the southward, and a little behind them the brown canvas of a corvette. This, as the raging curses of his companions informed him, was no other than the Albemarle. Presently the distant roll of a cannon reached them, and another.
“Ay, they’ve seen us, and much good it’ll do them. The French ha’ got our ship, eh?” Moses Deakin faced the issue squarely. “Never mind that, lads, never mind! On to the Danish, and we’ll find the redskins waiting for us. We’ll find the Star Woman there too, or a message from her. They’ll be sure to wait all summer, until the ice comes again—ha! Art awake, Crawford? Here’s food and drink, such as we ha’ got left. Don’t move too much, for this cursed craft of ours is cranky.”
“One o’ the French ships ha’ sent a pinnace after us!” yelled a man. “See her bit o’ sail, master?”
Deakin cursed, then laughed, for it was close to sunset.
“Sink me, let ’em come! No bluff-bowed navy boat can keep up wi’ this canoe, and they’ll be glad to give over the chase before dark. Here y’are, Crawford——”
Crawford thankfully ate and drank, while the canoe plunged on. The pursuing sail was lost to sight ere twilight, and when a small river appeared on their left, Deakin held the canoe in for it. He wanted to renew their scanty supply of fresh water and give all hands half an hour ashore, as well as to rearrange their makeshift sail.
Upon landing, one of the men took the fusil and departed after game, presently returning with a rabbit. A fire was set going, and all five gathered about it. Crawford was weak, but long sleep had refreshed him and the weakness would soon pass, while his split scalp was already healing beneath soothing Indian unguents. When the five had polished off the last drop of broth and the last scrap of meat from the boiled bones, a remnant of tobacco was shared.
“Now—what!” demanded Crawford, meeting the wide gaze of Moses Deakin. The latter, having learned Crawford’s tale by snatches, grimaced in his beard.