The fisherman with a long pole took his place in the bow of the boat and pushed off.

For some hours they made their way through the labyrinth of sluggish and narrow channels of the morass.

It was a gloomy journey.

The leafless trees frequently met overhead; the long rushes in the wetter parts of the swamp rustled as the cold breezes swept across them, and a slight coating of snow which had fallen the previous night added to the dreary aspect of the scene.

At last they came upon sharply rising ground.
"This is Athelney," the fisherman said, "a good hiding-place truly; for, as you see, it rises high over the surrounding country, which is always swampy from the waters of the Parrot and Theme, and at high tides the salt water of the sea fills all these waterways, and the trees rise from a broad sheet of sea.