The thick tendrils gathering about the small boat were like a spider's web meant to entangle them past escape. And with the coming of that fog, the warmth of the spring vanished. The day was darkly chill. Moisture beaded the deck planking and the rail against which she stood, dampened her shawl, made her bonnet veil hang limp and heavy. Yet she shrank from going into the cramped cabin below. The deck, save for a very small portion through which the crew moved, was piled high with stacks of lumber, barrels and boxes, as was the hold, so that the sloop rode low in the river. Since the sails could not be used, the crew were out with sweeps, three men to a side, walking back and forth to give them a very slow headway. While Mr. Fowke himself took the wheel post. Millie, her eyes swollen from crying, huddled on one side of the boxes, a small figure of misery. The maid had shown such fear ever since Honora had decreed that she accompany Saranna to Tiensin that Saranna had not been able to get anything coherent out of her.
