THE BLACKSMITH I had come up gasping for breath, well out in the stream, either shore a mere darker shadow showing above the water.

How far I had been swept below the barge could not be guessed, as I could distinguish no outlines clearly, excepting the bare spars of a vessel, tied up to the west shore.
As this ship had not been in sight previously I concluded the drift had been greater than anticipated, and I struck out quickly toward the opposite bank, fearful lest I be borne down as far as Gloucester before I could finally make land.

It was a hard swim across the swift current, and I was nearly exhausted when I finally crept up the low bank, and lay dripping and panting in the shelter of some low bushes.

Except for the bark of a distant dog there was no sound more disturbing than the rustle of leaves, and the lapping of water.

As my breath came back I sat up, wrung out my clothes as best I could, and, with difficulty, drew on the boots I had borne across, slung to my shoulder.
I possessed but a dim conception of where I was, yet knew I must make a wide detour to the east so as to escape British foraging parties.