John brought the Sky-Bird down to within seventy-five feet of the sea as they approached. Tom seized the speaking trumpet, and as they swept over the Clarion he bawled out: "Hang on, Torrey! We'll stand by, and save you if we can!"
But they were facing a herculean task, and realized it. They could not light upon the water. Nor could they stop in midair. How in the world could they effect the hapless flyer's rescue?
John circled at reduced speed while all of their minds were busy trying to work out the problem. In the meantime Torrey's frantic pleadings for them not to go away and leave him to his fate filled their ears. It was a trying, nerve-racking situation.
Bob Giddings struck upon the first idea.
"Why can't we trail a rope for him to catch?" he asked.
"He's probably too weak to climb a rope," objected Tom.
"I'll tell you what we can do," said Paul, with a happy thought. "We can take this coil of rope we have here and make a narrow ladder of it! That will be easy for him to catch, and easy to climb."
All agreed instantly that this was the only hope of rescue. So John kept the Sky-Bird slowly wheeling, while his three mates cut and tied until they had formed a narrow rope ladder about fifty feet long. One end of this they securely fastened in the cabin, while they let the other drop down through the glass trap in the floor.
To their dismay the rush of wind carried the light ladder out so horizontally behind that they saw they could never get low enough with safety for Oliver Torrey to reach it! What could they do now? It seemed they were destined to failure; that Torrey must be left to the cruel and hungry waves.
"I have it!" cried Bob. "We'll fasten Grandpa near the lower end of the ladder. His weight will be sufficient to keep it down straight."