The shock of being immersed feet foremost in the water, coupled with the fact that the night was pitch-black, was quickly followed by a quite unexpected discovery.
The boat had foundered, but a heavy jar proclaimed the fact that she had "struck soundings" in about three feet of water. Her crew found themselves standing waist-deep upon the quivering boat as the bottom boards writhed under their feet in an attempt to float to the surface—a feat that had been successfully performed by most of the buoyant gear in the boat.
For some moments neither Peter nor his uncle could grasp the situation, until Brian Strong shouted: "We're close to shore; come on, Peter."
"Don't move!" bawled Peter, for conversation at an ordinary pitch would be inaudible owing to the shriek of the wind. "Don't move. We may be on a sandbank with deep water all around."
Uncle Brian saw the force of this assertion. It would be a fool's trick to attempt to swim, since all sense of direction was lost, and they were still ignorant of how far it was to the nearest land. Visions of caymans, deadly eels, and other undesirable denizens of these waters also served as a deterrent, although, standing waist-deep, the two men were not less liable to attack than had they been striking out for the shore.
"I'm not at all keen on standing here till daybreak," remarked Uncle Brian at length. "It's too jolly moist," he added, with a brave attempt at making light of the situation.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," decided Peter. "There's a coil of rope under the fore-deck. Pass it aft and I'll secure one end round my waist. Then I'll go on a voyage of exploration. If the water gets deeper I'll come back. If it shelves, we'll move along till we find a better 'ole."
"Better hump, you mean," corrected Brian Strong. "All right, here's the line. I'll pay out as you go. There ought to be thirty fathoms of it at least."
Having made his preparations, Peter stepped off. The ground was quite hard under his feet and clear of weeds. Nevertheless, he proceeded cautiously, having in mind the possibility of encountering a cayman or other ferocious inhabitant of the lake.
He had his automatic, but he was doubtful whether it would be serviceable. The cartridge in the barrel might be effective, since the ammunition was guaranteed damp-proof; but there was the chance of the delicate mechanism of the weapon being deranged by its submersion. Nor was an automatic of much use against a cayman. The bullet was not powerful enough to penetrate the creature's armour-plated body; and unless a lucky hit were made in the cayman's eye or throat, the odds would be against Peter. All the same, the possession of the automatic gave him a certain degree of confidence that would have been lacking had he been weaponless.