Chapter Twenty Three.
A Strange Awakening.
“What’s a wonder to me, sir,” said Tom Fillot, respectfully, “is as no one seems to have been killed.”
“But we don’t know that,” said Mark, sharply. “Tired as I was when I lay down last night, I couldn’t sleep for thinking of those men. Do you think they could reach the shore?”
“Reach the shore, sir! Why not? What was to prevent ’em?”
“Some of them were half-stunned when they were dashed overboard.”
“Then the water would make ’em come to, sir, and freshen ’em up. Don’t you wherrit yourself about that, sir. I saw ’em all swimming for the bank, and they’d get there before the crocks woke up to try for ’em.”
“Crocodiles?”