So, after troublous days, the _Irondelle_ came to rest in a little cove amid beetling cliffs, fast moored and well-sheltered against anything but a blow direct from the north. She had not reached her goal without misadventure. Off the Banks she had raised three sail of the line, one foggy morning--French frigates, which only her virtue of speed enabled her to escape. Of the thirteen hands forward, one man had slipped on an icy shroud and fallen to his death, another had been knifed in a quarrel; this reduced the total aboard to fifteen. Wilful waste had reduced Saint-Castin’s looted provisions to woeful want, the gear aloft was dropping to shreds, there was not a sound line aboard her save those that held her moored off the black rocks, and the entire stock of powder in the makeshift magazine had been flooded and ruined. Yet, because the ballast of rum was not yet exhausted and the lure of gold was before them, the men were willing enough to face the worst. The one redeeming feature was that in the bleak snow-clad land fronting them there was no enemy. On the night of their arrival in the cove, Vanderberg summoned all hands aft to a council in the cabin. They listened in silence as he laid the situation bluntly before them--fierce, wolfish faces in the lantern-light, haggard with toil and privation, lustful for unearned gold, branded men and cutthroats and wild beasts in the image of God. “Without powder,” concluded Vanderberg, “we are defenceless. Without food, we are powerless. Without gear and canvas, the ship cannot leave here. Without more men, we could not work her south. Before us there is a waste of snow and icy woods--a white desert. One man among us knows this land; let him speak.” All eyes went to Frontin. He, holding a candle to his pipe, nodded his head coolly. “Good. From that white desert facing us,” he said, “we shall get men, provisions, powder, gear, and a ship. Is that satisfactory?” Some of the men cursed, others laughed. They liked Frontin for his cool cruelty and his high intelligence. “If you say so, then it will come to pass,” said Bose, growling some blasphemy in his beard. “What about the gold?” “Unfortunately, I cannot be in two places at once,” said Frontin. “I propose that we divide into two parties. I shall remain here with the cap’n and four men, to search out the gold and, if possible, secure it. Seven men and Bose, with Crawford in command, will go into the white desert and bring us men, provisions, munitions, and a ship. Eh?” There was a roar of laughter at this proposal, which was at once put to the vote and passed, amid a flood of oaths and obscenities. Then Crawford spoke up for the first time. “The snow is deep. You will provide wings for us to cross?” Frontin grinned. “I brought Saint-Castin’s snowshoes for the purpose. You can use them; the others can learn.” “I can use them,” spoke up Bose heavily. “I spent a Winter in Hudson’s Bay, with the English company.”