He sprang to poor Bigley’s other hand, and we dragged and tugged with slow steady strain and sharp snatch, but without any effect; and every now and then, as we pulled, the waves came right up, and drove us against the rock.
“It’s of no use, boys,” said Bigley at last. “I’m fast.”
“Help!” yelled Bob Chowne with all his might; but in that great solitude his voice had no more effect than the wail of a sea-bird. There was not a soul in sight either on cliff path or the shore. Out to sea there were sails enough, small craft and goodly ships going and coming from Bristol and Cardiff; but no signals on our part were likely to be seen. And besides, if they had been understood, it would have been an hour’s row to shore from the nearest, and before a quarter of that time had elapsed the rocks where we stood would be under water.
“Big, Big!” I cried piteously in my despair and wonder to see him now so pale and calm; “what shall we do?”
“Nothing,” he said in a low whisper. “Only be quiet now; I’m going to say my prayers.”
I dropped down on my knees by him and hid my face, and how long I knelt there I don’t know; but it was till I was lifted by the tide and driven heavily against the rocks.
“It’s of no use,” said Bigley then, after a tremendous struggle. “I can’t get out. You must go.”
“For help?” I said.
“No; run both of you, or you’ll be drowned.”
As he spoke a wave came in, broke and deluged us, and I don’t know what my words would have been if Bob Chowne had not wailed out: