“Well, the path thou asketh for is beneath that spar. It is a good rope of stout hemp, and has carried the weight of many a brave fellow before now.”
“The smuggler's rope?”
“The same. Art afraid to venture, now thou seest the place?”
“You'll not find me so, friend. I have seen danger as close before now, and did not blink it.”
“Mark me well, then,” said he, laying his hand on my arm. “When thou readiest that rope, thou wilt let thyself cautiously down to a small projecting point of rock; we cannot see it here, but thou wilt soon discern it in the descent. The rope from this goes no farther, for that spot is nigh sixty fathom below us. From thence the cliff slopes sharply down about thirty or forty feet. Here thou must creep cautiously,—for the moss is dry and slippery at this season,—till thou nearest the edge. Mark me well, now: near the edge thou'lt find a large stone fast-rooted in the ground; and around that another rope is fastened, by which thou may'st reach the bottom of the precipice. There is but one place of peril in the whole.”
“The sloping bank, you mean?”
“Yes; that bit will try thy nerve. Remember, if thy foot slip, there's nothing to stop thy fall; the cliff is rounded over the edge, and the blue sea beats two hundred feet below it. And see! look yonder, far away there! Seest thou the twinkling, as of a small star, on the water?”
“The cutter will throw up a rocket, will she not?”
“A rocket!” repeated he, contemptuously; “that's some landsman's story thou hast been listening to. A rocket would bring the whole fleet of boats from Tréport on her. No, no; they know better than that: the faintest glimmer of a fishing-craft is all they 'll dare to show. But see how steadily it burns now! we must make the signal seawards.”
“Halloo, Joseph! a light there.”