“One moment: better now. I felt paralysed.”
There was another terrible pause, during which the storm beat upon them, the waves thundered at the base of the rock, and even at that height there came a rain of spray which had run up the face of the rock and swept over to where they lay.
“Now, quick!” said Van Heldre, as he lay face downward, spread-eagled, as a sailor would term it, against the face of the sloping granite.
What followed seemed to be a struggling scramble, a tremendous effort, and then with the wind shrieking round them, Van Heldre reached the level, and crept slowly to the shelter of the parapet.
“Great heavens!” panted Leslie, as he lay there exhausted, and gazed wildly at his companion. “What an escape!”
There was no reply. Leslie thought that Van Heldre had fainted, for his eyes were nearly closed, and his face seemed to be drawn. Then he realised that his lips were moving slowly, as if in prayer.
“Hah!” the rescued man said at last, his words faintly heard in the tempest’s din. “Thank God! For their sake—for their sake.”
Then, holding out his hand, he pressed Leslie’s in a firm strong grip.
“Leslie,” he said, with his lips close to his companion’s ear, “you have saved my life.”
Neither spoke much after that, but they crouched there—in turn using the glass.