"I think I'll take the punt and paddle up the big creek," he said. "You can tell Carrie she ought to have come back to give me tea. Since she hasn't come, I'll wait for dinner."
He went off and Mrs. Winter mused. Jim generally knew what he wanted, but his attitude was puzzling now. Although he meant to marry Evelyn and imagined he loved her, Mrs. Winter doubted. She wondered whether Evelyn had, so to speak, dazzled him by her grace and beauty. Jim was resolute and practical, but not clever. Mrs. Winter sighed and imagined she had been foolish to let Carrie stay so long, but she could not see her way. Jim would not be married until he had drained the marsh and Jake would not go before the work was finished. Mrs. Winter admitted that he could not go.
In the meantime, Jim launched his shooting-punt in a muddy creek. The punt would carry two people and measured about eighteen feet long and nearly three feet wide. She was decked, except for a short well, and when loaded floated a few inches above the water. A bundle of reeds was fastened across the head-ledge of the well to hide the occupant when he lay down and used the short paddle.
Jim stood on the after-deck and drove the punt down the creek with a pole. He could see across the bank, and the wet marsh, glistening faintly in the moonlight, ran back into thin mist. In front, the creek got wider until it melted into the expanse of sands. Here and there a belt of smooth mud caught a silvery reflection, but for the most part the sands were dark. The night was calm and the advancing surf rumbled in the distance like a heavy train. It was a good night for shooting and Jim wondered whether anybody else was about. Mordaunt and Dick now and then went after the geese, and Shanks, in his shooting punt, generally haunted the channels when the gaggles came down to feed.
It was some time after low-water when Jim reached the main channel and stopped to listen. He thought the surf was unusually loud, but he could not hear the geese. The wild cry of a curlew came out of the dark and red-shanks were whistling in the distance. The water, so far as he could see, was still, and this meant the tide had not yet entered the channel. He thought he ought to have an hour before it did so, but the current would run fast then. Tides rise high when high-water comes at twelve o'clock with a full moon.
After a few minutes he set off again. There was no need for him to lie down and he stood on deck, using the pole. It sank about a foot, but presently the water shoaled and when the punt touched bottom he got over and dragged her by a line. He wore a yellow oilskin, long waders, and thin canvas shoes. At length, the punt would float no farther, and putting her on rollers, he pulled her a short distance up the bank and afterwards carried a small anchor as far as the line would allow. He was a mile and a half from land, the tide would soon flow, and if the geese were about, he might be away some time. Then, picking up his gun, he set off up the nearly dry channel. There was a salt-water lake, bordered by a weedy scar, not far off, and he might find some brant geese or ducks.
In the meantime, Dick Halliday called at Langrigg, and was received by Mrs. Winter.
"Are you all alone?" he asked.
Mrs. Winter told him where Jake and Carrie had gone, and that Jim was shooting. Dick inquired when Jake had started and looked thoughtful when Mrs. Winter replied.
"They ought to have been back some time since," he remarked. "The road is very bad where it runs across the head of the bay and high tides cover the causeway for an hour or two. I don't think Jake would wait until dark; the car has probably broken down."