“Can you climb up, major?” said Gregory as the rope came down again.
“No, sir,” said the major stoutly. “I shall have to be hauled up like a passenger, I suppose. I am no climber. But won’t they hear us on deck?”
“I wonder they have not already,” said the mate, though all was perfectly still, and the stern stood out so much that they were in some degree protected.
“This is confoundedly undignified, sir, confoundedly,” said the major, as the cotton rope was secured about his waist. “Hang it, Gregory, I don’t like it, sir. Can’t I climb?”
“You said you could not. Will you try?”
“No; it’s of no use. But really I do object to be swinging there at the end of a string like a confounded leg of mutton under a bottle-jack. Not too tight.”
“No; that knot will not slip. There, shall I give the signal?”
“Yes—no—yes; and let me get it over as soon as I can. Good gracious! if the men of my regiment were to see me now!”
The signal was given, the rope tightened, and the major uttered a low cry as he was sharply lifted off his feet, and before he could check himself surely enough he began to turn slowly round and round as if he were being roasted.
Left alone now, Mr Gregory waited patiently till the rope came down again, when he caught it and secured it round his waist, after which he went to the bows of the gig, took the painter, and by pressing the stern of the ship managed to draw the prow close up to the hull, and then after a little search he discovered a ring-bolt upon the rudder-post, to which he drew the boat, running the painter right through and making it fast, so that the little vessel was well out of sight, unless seen by the crews of one of the praus.