“Turn the wheel.”
It began to move directly, but taking me down into the water, and I uttered a cry, when the wheel turned in the other direction, drawing me out and up. My arms straightened out; I was drawn closer to the wood-work. I felt that I should slip off, when my toes rested upon one of the bars, while, as I rose higher, the tension on my arms grew less, and then less, and at last, instead of hanging, I was lying upon my chest. Then a pair of great hands laid hold of me, and Piter was licking my face.
Pannell told me afterwards that he had to carry me all along the narrow stone ledge to the window of his smithy, and thrust me through there before climbing in after me, for it was impossible to get into the yard the other way without a boat.
I must have fainted, I suppose, for when I opened my eyes again, though it was in darkness, the icy water was not round me, but I was lying on the warm ashes down in one of the stoke-holes; and the faint glow of the half-extinct fire was shining upon the shiny brown forehead of the big smith.
“Pannell!” I exclaimed, “where am I?”
“Get out!” he growled. “Just as if yow didn’ know.”
“Did you save me?”
“’Sh, will yo’!” he whispered. “How do we know who’s a-watching an’ listening? Yow want to get me knob-sticked, that’s what yow want.”
“No, no,” I said, shivering.
“Yow know where we are, o’ course. Down in the big stokul; but be quiet. Don’t shout.”