“What’s to be done?” he asked.
“I don’t quite know,” said Moran, with a puzzled air. “The ice gathers along the beach, and the patches freeze together as the tide sweeps them out. She’d lie safe where the stream is pretty dead, but there’s no place except this bight where we’d get shelter from wind and sea.”
“It’s plain that we can’t stay here, and we’d better get off as soon as possible,” said Jimmy. “We can hang on to the wreck unless it blows, but I want the breakers filled before we start.”
“It will take us some time,” Bethune objected. “I feel I’d rather get up those boxes from the hold.”
“So do I,” Jimmy rejoined. “But I’m taking no chances when there’s a risk of our being blown off the land.”
“The skipper’s right,” declared Moran. “We’ll go off with the dory, while he drops her down with the tide.”
They helped to shorten cable, and, after breaking out the anchor, pulled the dory toward the beach through the thin ice, while the sloop drifted slowly out to sea. Jimmy was relieved to hear the unpleasant crackle stop, and he leisurely set about making sail, for the wind was light. He must have canvas enough to stand off and on until the others rejoined him.
He found the waiting dreary when he reached open water, for he was filled with keen impatience to get to work. The gold lay in sight in the hold of the wreck, and an hour or two’s labor was all that was required to transfer it to the sloop. And it was obvious that this must be done at once, because the drift ice was gathering in the offing, and an on-shore breeze might suddenly spring up. They had nowhere to run for shelter, now that the only safe haven was closed to them. Still, Jimmy felt that he had done wisely in exercising self-control enough to send for the water.
It was almost calm and very cold. Sky and water were a uniform dingy gray, and the mist, which had grown thinner round the land, still obscured the seaward horizon. Once Jimmy thought he made out an ominous pale gleam in a belt of haze, but when it trailed away before a puff of fitful breeze, he saw nothing. For two hours he sailed to and fro in half-mile tacks, finding just wind enough to stem the tide; and then, when his patience was almost exhausted, he felt a thrill of relief as he heard the measured splash of oars. A few minutes later the dory came alongside, and Bethune handed up the casks.
“We had to break the ice with a big stone, and I hardly thought we’d get through,” he said. “It froze up again while we carried the first load down.”