Chapter Fifty Four.
Barron-Dale has a Relapse.
Brettison’s progress was slow, but he refused to sit down and rest.
“We must get there,” he said; “we must get there.”
Stratton shuddered slightly, and for the moment felt that he ought to press on; but he knew that his words would have ten times the force with the admiral backed up by Brettison’s presence, so he restrained himself and helped his companion along till they came in sight of the rocks, a good-sized boat keeping pace with them a couple of hundred yards out, its owners having hard work to stem the current which ran along the shore.
“Is it much farther?” said Brettison at last. “I am weaker than I thought.”
“Seventy or eighty yards; just beyond those rocks,” cried Stratton.
“Hah, then I am strong enough,” cried Brettison, with a sigh of relief; and after a few moments’ pause he stepped out again; they passed the rocks, and the doubt which had existed in Stratton’s mind as to whether the party would still be where he left them was set at rest. But he started as he saw that they were gathered together as if there were some cause of excitement.
“Come along,” he whispered quickly.