being rudely shaken.

"On deck with you, boy," said the sailor who had roused him. "Going to
snooze all day?"

He leaped from his hammock, and ran up the companionway. Then an
exclamation of astonishment burst from his lips.




CHAPTER XVII.

Up the River.

The Wanderer lay in a small, land locked harbor, densely surrounded by
a strange and wonderful growth of forest, that completely concealed the
shore behind.

Near by, though hidden beyond a neck of land, one could hear the roar
of breakers. At the opposite extremity, the harbor was elongated, as
if some stream were entering beneath a giant growth of overhanging
foliage.

The little bay was no more than a quarter of a mile across, nor was
there any sign of human presence other than that presented by the
schooner and her crew. She was anchored mid-stream, and Ralph could
perceive a sluggish, muddy current making towards an inlet that was
partially concealed by several small islets, densely covered by
mangroves.