CHAPTER NINETEEN.
A FRIEND IN NEED.
I suppose it was an uneasy movement made by Bob Chowne that awoke me, and as I started away, and looked round at the darkness, and felt the motion of the boat, I trembled, and could not for the time make out where I was, or what all this peculiar sensation of cramped stiffness meant.
The stars were shining, and twinkling reflections flashed from the water; the boat rocked to and fro, and the cold was horrible.

This feeling of bitter cold or else the stupefied sensation brought on by exhaustion seemed to keep me from thinking, and it was a long time before I quite realised the truth.
Then I wanted to wake up Bigley and Bob Chowne, to get them to start rowing again, for the sea had gone down, there was hardly a breath of wind; and, though I could see nothing, I felt that the land could not be very far away.
I raised my hand to shake Bigley; but I did not, for the inclination was stronger to creep close up to him, and try to warm myself; and this I did, clinging closely to him and Bob Chowne; and then, as I crouched shivering and cramped in the bottom of the boat, I felt as if all the cold and darkness had suddenly sunk away and I was in oblivion.
I don't know how long I slept, but I remember starting up again and wondering why the boat was moving so curiously, and then I found that I was being shaken, and a hoarse voice said: "Sep! Sep! Wake up." "What's matter ?" I said drowsily.
"It's dark and cold, and we'd better begin to row again.

The sea has gone down." "Has it ?" I said sleepily.

"Never mind.

It don't matter." "Yes, it does.