It was for liberty, and naturally enough the midshipman made no superficial search. His next plan was to lie flat down in the niche he had made his temporary resting-place, lean over, and try and map out a course by which he could descend a little way and then pass along for a distance, and resume his climb upward with better chances of success.
But no; he could see no sign to help him, and, as a keen sense of disappointment assailed him that he should have got so near liberty and have to give up, he decided that the way to freedom was downward.
And now, as he looked over the edge of the shelf on which he lay, it struck him for the first time that it was a very terrible descent, and, turning his eyes away, he looked up again for a way there.
All in vain. He was fully a hundred and twenty feet from the top of the huge cliff, and, half afraid now that he should be quite afraid, he determined to lose no time, and, going to the spot where he had crept on to the niche floor, he began to lower himself slowly down.
“Be a good thing,” he said to himself, as he searched with his feet and made sure of his footing, “if one could leave all one’s thoughts behind at a time like this, or only keep enough to think where to put one’s feet.”
“Glad I haven’t got on my uniform,” he said a few moments later, as his breast scraped over the rough rock.
Soon after,—
“Oh, how sore my hands are! That’s better.”
He was back in safety on the ledge over the hole, and, passing along, he had soon descended to the one beneath the exit.
“Now then,” he said, as he paused for a few minutes before commencing his descent; “this will be easier.”