There was a drop of thirty feet to the water.
Thirty feet.
Just think what thirty feet is.
About the height of a two-story dwelling house.
"Supposing we get through there," said Harry Girdwood, "we should never be able to swim all the way out to a friendly ship.
"My dear old wet blanket," returned Jack, "I got you into this mess, and I'll get you out of it."
"I hope so."
They watched anxiously for a friendly ship.
At length their vigil was rewarded with success.
A big ship sailed into the bay with the British colours flying at her masthead.