He could sail no farther; there was nothing for it but to get ashore and travel on foot.

If the wind rose higher, the waves would soon break clean over her, and she would go to pieces.
With a heavy heart, Felix took his paddle and stepped overboard.

Feeling with the paddle, he plumbed the depth in front of him, and, as he expected, walked all the way to the shore, no deeper than his knees.
This was fortunate, as it enabled him to convey his things to land without loss.

He wrapped up the tools and manuscripts in one of his hunter's hides.

When the whole cargo was landed, he sat down sorrowfully at the foot of the cliff, and looked out at the broken mast and sail, still flapping uselessly in the breeze.
It was a long time before he recovered himself, and set to work mechanically to bury the crossbow, hunter's hides, tools, and manuscripts, under a heap of pebbles.