He knew that he had only a supply for a limited period.
The only course that remained open to him was to march as quickly as the dense mass of water would let him, and try to regain the Searcher.
But though he turned round, he could not find the sandy plain they had first traversed on leaving the ship.
The forest of sea weeds, rising straight as arrows on all sides of him, erect and motionless, grew dense; animal life was everywhere.
Strange fishes glared at him, and seemed to mock his misery by their quick, darting movements and sportive gambols.
He pushed his way fiercely through the vegetable growth, but only to become more entangled.
All at once the ground became hilly, and it seemed as if he had come to the end of the valley and was ascending one of the sides.
He pushed on, thinking he would give the world to be able to rise to the surface.
If he could only penetrate that thick water and float on the top of the waves, breathing the free air of heaven, he would have gladly done so, even if he were to die an hour afterward.
Gradually he quitted the forest, and the sun's rays began to be visible again.