The cot was declared ineligible, also, and the question was finally settled by Josiah and Captain Eri going upstairs to the room once occupied by John Baxter, while Ralph took that which they vacated.
It was some time before he fell asleep. The gale seemed to be tearing loose the eternal foundations. The house shook and the bed trembled as if a great hand was moving them, and the snow slapped against the windows till it seemed that they must break.
In the morning there was little change in the weather. The snow had turned to a sleet, half rain, that stuck to everything and coated it with ice. The wind was blowing as hard as ever. Captain Eri and Ralph, standing just outside the kitchen door, and in the lee of the barn, paused to watch the storm for a minute before they went down to the beach. At intervals they caught glimpses of the snow-covered roofs of the fish shanties, and the water of the inner bay, black and threatening and scarred with whitecaps; then another gust would come, and they could scarcely see the posts at the yard gate.
“Think you want to go over, do you?” asked the Captain.
“I certainly do, if I can get there.”
“Oh, we can git there all right. I've rowed a dory a good many times when 'twas as bad as this. This ain't no picnic day, though, that's a fact,” he added, as they crossed the yard, and caught the full force of the wind. “Lucky you put on them ileskins.”
Ralph was arrayed in Captain Jerry's “dirty-weather rig,” and although, as Captain Eri said, the garments fitted him “like a shirt on a handspike,” they were very acceptable.
They found the dory covered with snow and half-full of slush, and it took some few minutes to get her into condition. When this was accomplished they hauled her down to the shore, and Captain Eri, standing knee-deep in water, steadied her while Ralph climbed in. Then the Captain tumbled in himself, picked up the oars, and settled down for the pull to the outer beach.
A dory, as everyone acquainted alongshore knows, is the safest of all small craft for use in heavy weather. It is unsinkable for one thing, and, being flat-bottomed, slips over the waves instead of plowing through them. But the high freeboard is a mark for the wind, and to keep a straight course on such a morning as this requires skill, and no small amount of muscle. Ralph, seated in the stern, found himself wondering how on earth his companion managed to row as he did, and steer at the same time. The strokes were short, but there was power in them, and the dory, although moving rather slowly, went doggedly on.
“Let me take her,” shouted Ralph after a while, “you must be tired.”