I sprang to my legs, and looked out. The sea was all freckled with the moonlight, and the little craft shone like silver, as the bright beams glanced on her white sails. The tall cliffs alone preserved their gloom, and threw a dark and frowning shadow over the waves beneath them.
“I can see nothing close to shore,” said I, pointing to the dark rocks beneath the window.
“Thou'lt have the moon presently; she's rising above the crest of the hill, and then the cliffs are clear as at noonday. So, make haste! strap on that knapsack on your shoulder; high up, mind; and give thine arms full play,—that's it. Now fasten thy shoes over all; thou wert not about to wear them, surely?” said he in a tone almost derisive. “Take care, in keeping from the face of the rock, not to sway the rope; it wears the cordage. And, above all, mind well when thou reachest the cliff below; let not thy hold go before thou hast well felt thy footing. See, the moon is up already!”
As he spoke, a vast sheet of yellow light seemed to creep over the whole face of the precipice, displaying every crag and projection, and making every spot of verdure or rock brilliant in color; while, many a fathom down below, the heavy waves were seen,—now rising in all their majestic swell, now pouring back in their thousand cataracts from every fissure in the precipice. So terribly distinct did each object show, so dreadfully was each distance marked, I felt that all its former gloom and darkness were not one half so thrilling as that moonlight splendor.
“La bonne Marie guard thee now!” said the old seaman, as he wrung my hand in his strong fingers. “Be steady and cool of head, and there is no danger; and look not downwards till thou hast got accustomed to the cliff.”
As he said this, he opened a small door at the foot of the tower stair, and passing through himself, desired me to follow. I did so, and now found myself on a narrow ledge of rock, directly over the crag; below, at about ten feet, lay the chain to which the rope was attached, and to reach it was not the least perilous part of the undertaking. But in this I was assisted by the old man, who, passing a rope through a massive iron staple, gradually lowered me till my hand came opposite the chain.
“Thou hast it now,” cried he, as he saw me disengage one hand and grasp the iron links firmly.
“Yes, all safe! Good-by, friend; good-by!”
“Wait yet,” cried he again. “Let not go the cord before thou thinkest a minute or so; I have known more than one change his mind when he felt himself where thou art.”
“Mine is made up. Farewell!”