Now and then as they paused for an instant, while making ready to haul the wagon over some miniature cliff, one of the crew referred to the anxiety which must be in the hearts of those aboard the schooner, and another expressed satisfaction that the imperilled mariners knew there were on the shore waiting to succor them, men who were provided with every known method for saving life under such circumstances.
All the while as these men spoke one with another evincing anxiety for strangers, they were fighting against the furious wind and driving particles of frost, and even at times, when their way lay near the water’s edge, against the volumes of surf which were flung landward by the angry blasts.
There was no moment when the progress was other than extremely difficult, and Benny was absolutely obliged at times to allow them to drag him at the tail of the cart, else he would have been left far behind; but yet those brave fellows had not a word, perhaps not a thought, concerning their own labor or peril.
“Half-way to Skinner’s Point!” Joe Cushing shouted as they mounted a hill of brown rock from which the snow had been driven, and stood for a single instant to regain their breath. “Half-way to Skinner’s Point, and no signal from Sam! Who can see the schooner?”
Every eye had been directed seaward when they first gained the elevation, but it was as if the wind drove the snow yet more compactly, and the oldest surfman among them failed to see objects at a distance of fifty feet.
“God help the men who are drifting on to the coast this night!” Keeper Downey muttered, and then added in a cheery tone, “Get on, boys! Get on! You’ll freeze if you stand loitering here, and exercise is what all of us are most needing just now.”
Benny shut his teeth tightly together when, from the movement of the wagon he knew the men were settling forward in the rope harness again, and determined to so husband his strength during the remainder of the journey that when they came to the more difficult portions of the road he might be able to lend some assistance, even though feeble, rather than act the part of a drag on the load.
During fifteen minutes more the men pulled and tugged, straining every muscle to drag the heavily laden wagon over the difficult way, and then as if by common consent another halt was made.
“We should be seeing the schooner by this time, unless she has succeeded in crawling off from the land,” Keeper Downey said, letting go his hold on the cart as he advanced to the edge of the rocky cliffs and looked out over the waters.
No more than five hundred yards in distance lay between them and the dreaded Skinner’s Point, where so many vessels had met their doom, yet the driving snow shut out all save immediate objects from their view.