“No, no, no; good-bye. It’s all a dream.”
“It is not,” cried Syd, wildly. “I know—the place. Heaven, give us strength. I know it now.”
“You’re mad, sir, mad,” groaned the boatswain.
“No, Barney, do. Help, come. Water—I know—I can find it now.”
Chapter Thirty Five.
It seemed too late as Syd rose to his feet, tottered to the looped-back opening of the hut, and crawled out with his eyes starting, his dry mouth open, and every breath drawn with a wheezing, harsh sound that was horrible to hear.
Before he had gone far down the slope toward where the men were lying beneath the rock, and the rope-ladder hung over the rocky wall below the lower gun, he stopped short panting, with the sinking sun scorching his brain and everything swimming round. He looked backward, and had some idea that the boatswain was crawling after him, bringing a vessel that rattled on the loose stones as he came.
But Syd could think of but one thing as he made his way toward the rope-ladder, and that one thing was the fluid which should give them all back their life. He crawled on slowly and painfully, and then a black cloud came over his brain, and everything was gone for the time.