CHAPTER XVII
THE BREAK OF STORM
We had no more pleasant weather for days, the skies being overcast and the wind damp and chill. It did not rain, nor were the waves dangerous, although choppy enough to make paddling tiresome and difficult.
A mist obscured the view, and compelled us to cling close to the shore so as to prevent becoming lost in the smother, and as we dare not venture to strike out boldly from point to point, we lost much time in creeping along the curves.
The canoes kept closer together, never venturing to become separated, and the men stationed on watch in the bows continually called to each other across the tossing waters in guidance. Even De Artigny kept within sight, and made camp with us at night, although he made no effort to seek me, nor did I once detect that he even glanced in my direction. The studied indifference of the man puzzled me more than it angered, but I believed it was his consciousness of guilt, rather than any dislike which caused his avoidance. In a way I rejoiced at his following this course, as I felt bound 201 by my pledge to Cassion, and had no desire to further arouse the jealousy of the latter, yet I remained a woman, and consequently felt a measure of regret at being thus neglected and ignored.
However I had my reward, as this state of affairs was plainly enough to Monsieur Cassion’s liking, for his humor changed for the better, in spite of our slow progress, and I was pleased to note that his watchfulness over my movements while ashore noticeably relaxed. Once he ventured to speak a bold word or two, inspired possibly by my effort to appear more friendly, but I gave him small opportunity to become offensive, for the raw, disagreeable atmosphere furnished me with sufficient excuse to snuggle down beneath blankets, and thus ignore his presence.
I passed most of those days thus hidden from sight, only occasionally lifting my head to peer out at the gray, desolate sea, or watch the dim, mist-shrouded coast line. It was all of a color––a gloomy, dismal scene, the continuance of which left me homesick and spiritless. Never have I felt more hopeless and alone. It seemed useless to keep up the struggle; with every league we penetrated deeper into the desolate wilderness, and now I retained not even one friend on whom I could rely.
As Cassion evidenced his sense of victory––as I read it in his laughing words, and the bold glance of 202 his eyes––there came to me a knowledge of defeat, which seemed to rob me of all strength and purpose. I was not ready to yield yet; the man only angered me, and yet I began dimly to comprehend that the end was inevitable––my courage was oozing away, and somewhere in this lonely, friendless wilderness the moment I dreaded would come, and I would have no power to resist. More than once in my solitude, hidden beneath the blankets, I wiped tears from my eyes as I sensed the truth; yet he never knew, nor did I mean he should.
I had no knowledge of the date, nor a very clear conception of where we were, although it must have been either the fourth or fifth day since we left Port du Morts. The night before, we had camped at the mouth of a small stream, the surrounding forest growing down close to the shore, and so thick as to be almost impenetrable. The men had set up my tent so close to the water the waves broke scarcely a foot away, and the fire about which the others clustered for warmth was but a few yards distant.