Making a rush for the shore, and once there, heedless of the fact that I was in the rear of the houses, I fell down in the sand, weak and panting, and there I lay until strength enough to walk came to me. Then, taking my baggage from the raft, and cutting the cords that bound it together, I started on. Courage and confidence soon came back, and I kept steadily on for three hours, passing several small salt water inlets, but no fresh water to fill my now empty bottle.
At the first sign of day I went just within the border of the jungle, and lying down was soon asleep, and sleeping soundly, too, for waking I found the sun high in the heavens, and, looking at my watch, saw it was 9 o'clock. At the same time I discovered that I was hungry, with no food save a small piece of dried beef and not a drop of water in my bottle.
The salt water lagoon, or inlet, where I had my adventure of the previous night was marked on my map as a river, but it was not. However, I did not worry over the water question, as I knew I was near the hilly country surrounding the town of Alguizor, an important military headquarters, and I was confident of soon meeting some creek flowing from the hills. As for food, there were to be found in the dense jungle, where the soil was moist and wet, the holes of the nut crabs. They were large and fat--that is, appeared to be fat--and I knew that with plenty of them in the jungle I should not suffer from hunger.
Before starting inland for the day I turned to look at the blue waters rippling under a light breeze, and glancing in the sun, only a few yards away, I smiled to think of the phantoms my fears had conjured up, but for all that I resolved that no more night swims in the sea should find place in my programme.
I made my way with difficulty through the tangled woods, but had gone nearly a mile before I came to the road. After a cautious survey from my shelter, I stepped out on it, and looking away to the west I saw cultivated hills with teams and people moving about; I also saw the road became two--the right-hand one led away from the coast into the hills, the one to the left continued to skirt the beach. Both roads were well traveled, and I knew I was near the tobacco belt, which is cultivated throughout its entire length, from the Gulf to the Caribbean Sea, for a breadth of twenty miles, its western border touching the province of Pinar del Rio. Forty miles beyond that border the rebels held the town of San Cristoval, but I had made up my mind to follow the coast until I reached the hamlet and harbor of Rio de San Diego, fifty miles south from San Cristoval, then to strike north to the town of Passos, twenty miles west of San Cristoval. Once past San Diego, I would be well within the rebel lines, and could safely show myself, although I determined not to do so voluntarily until I was at Passos.