“We are trying our best, Major O’Halloran,” said the captain coldly.
“Yes, my dear fellow; but for Heaven’s sake let’s start.”
“What should you do, Mark?” said the captain, laying his hand on his son’s shoulder.
Mark was silent for a moment or two, and then said huskily:
“I don’t like going against your opinion, father, but I should start now.”
“In the darkness?”
“Yes. It seems to be our only chance.”
The captain made no verbal reply, but took out his knife, and stepping to where the rope passed out from the stern, mooring them to a crag of rock that seemed to rise from unfathomable depths, he divided the strands, and the rope fell with a splash in the water. Then, going to the bows, where the other rope ran to one of the timbers of the Petrel, he cut that, and there was another splash.
Then giving his orders, a couple of the men passed sweeps over the side with the greatest of care, and the head of the cutter began to turn, and she was moving slowly toward the mouth of the bay when once more the intense darkness was cut as by a knife, and the little vessel seemed to be destined to have a light as clear almost as day for making her way round into the lagoon, where she could catch the wind and escape.