Sigismondi drew a fold of the djelab over the bruised face.
"The God to whom he appealed is his judge," he said. "Let us leave it in His hands. The living, now, my friend. It is not here that we can concern ourselves with the dead."
They turned to the sailors. Half a dozen blocks had been rolled from the opening, which gaped wide over an empty darkness. The quartermaster slung himself carefully down into it and slowly disappeared.
A moment later they heard his voice.
"A rope," he demanded. "Here is one who is, at least, warm."
They passed down a rope carefully. Aylmer's heart became suddenly audible to himself. What would appear; what had Fate still in store for him?
Again the quartermaster's voice echoed from the darkness with directions. The sailors bent their backs and hauled.
A face appeared in the opening, travelling upwards.
Aylmer felt no surprise. This was the expected, the inevitable. Landon was dragged out into the day—Landon—alive.
They laid him silently at his cousin's feet.