“Yes, I know, my man, but you must try to see where he is. Hi! anybody coming with that light?”
“Yes, the man’s coming,” cried Drew.
“What’s that?” said the mate, sharply, as he leaned over the yawning hollow, rope in hand; “that peculiar odour?”
“What, that smell, sir?” said Smith. “I dunno, sir, it’s like as if someone had been burning loocifers. Why, of course, I struck some and let ’em fall.”
“Ah, that’s better!” cried the mate, as a lantern was handed to him by Panton; and, passing the free end of the rope through the handle, he ran it along till it was all through, and he could let the light glide down to the sailor.
“That’s all right, sir. Now, then, shall I climb or will you lower me down?”
“Try both, we’ll keep a good hold. Heaven help him, I hope he has not gone far. Take hold here. No, Mr Panton, let the men. They are better used to handling a rope. Now, then lower away.”
Smith began to descend with the lantern, and, as the mate and Panton gazed down, they could dimly make out that below them was a wide jagged crack, descending right away; while in front, a portion of the crack through the stone ran forward at a gradual slope, forming a cavern.
“Keep a sharp look out, my lad. Ah! mind! don’t kick the stones down.”
“Can’t help it, sir. It’s all a big slope here, with the stones waiting to go down with a jump.”