"Crawl ashore," the Commander whispered, as water began to flow in over the gunwale, and Jones and I climbed along the branches, half in and half out of the water. Jones got to land first, stretched out his great hand and hauled me ashore.
In a moment the Commander joined us.
"Push on inland, boys," he whispered, as calmly as anything, "the boat is all right." And we forced and squeezed our way through the clinging bushes and undergrowth, going in single file and keeping close together so as not to lose one another in the darkness.
Presently we burst through to a clear space, and our feet trod on hard ground.
"A path!" the Commander said, and struck softly across it.
Then we came to more thick bushes and briars, ran up against some stumpy trees with rocks in between them, and found ourselves climbing upwards.
In a minute we had to climb hand over hand, very steep it was, and I thought we should never stop, and the noise we made seemed prodigious.
The light of the camp-fire appeared once again. We halted, and could see the two men still listlessly standing over it. They had not heard us yet, and we scrambled upwards till the light was once more shut out from us.
At last we clambered on to what seemed to be a little ledge among the rocks. I could go no farther, and fell down in a heap.
We lay down on this ledge, huddled close together for warmth, till gradually and slowly the darkness diminished.