“No fear of tide or wind affecting her,” said Oliver; “but how dark it is under these trees. Look here, Smith, I don’t think you men need carry that ladder on to-night. Leave it here. It will be ready for next time we try the ascent.”
“All right, sir,” replied Smith.
“I don’t know, though; perhaps it will be as well to bring it along. We’ll help you if you get tired.”
“I sha’n’t get tired o’ carrying a thing like that, sir,” said the man, with a laugh. Then he shouldered it at once and the start was made for the brig.
They reckoned upon it taking a good hour in the darkness, what with the care they would have to exercise to avoid half-dried pools, scattered fragments of coral rock, and the many heaps of snag-like trees half buried in sand and mud, but when as near as they could guess an hour had passed they were still some distance from the brig and suffering from a feeling of weariness which made them all trudge along slowly and silently in single file.
Oliver was leading with his gun over his shoulder, the piece feeling heavier than it had ever felt before and as if it was increasing in weight each minute.
Smith was behind him with the ropes over his shoulder, and Wriggs now bore the ladder, coming last.
For some minutes they had been walking in utter silence, their footsteps deadened by the soft sand, and a terribly drowsy feeling was coming over Lane, making him long to lie down and sleep, but he fought it back and strained his eyes to gaze forward in search of obstacles, knowing as he did that the others were trusting him to pick out the best road and keep them out of difficulties.
But it was very dark in spite of the stars, and hard to make anything out till, all at once, he saw a misty and strange-looking form run by, about twenty yards ahead.
“What’s that?” he said to himself, and then he started, for Smith caught his arm, and whispered,—