Steve’s first look was, naturally enough, down at the deck, which now seemed to be at a terrible depth below him, looking quite a hundred feet, though it was not more than seventy, and the first thought which struck him was: “Suppose I fell!” A thrill ran through him, and in imagination he saw himself lying, broken and bleeding, on the white deck. But the next instant he said to himself: “No; I shouldn’t reach the deck, I should go overboard into the sea. How deep down should I go?” and then he clung there staring below him, till he was roused from the peculiar kind of fascination by the sailor’s voice.
“Now, master,” he said; and Steve gave a kind of gasp as he turned to the speaker. “Shortest piece.”
Steve handed it, and the Norseman tried its length, which proved to be just sufficient to reach across from the starboard shrouds, to which he clung, to those on the port side.
“Just right,” he said, and resting each end of the stout lath-like piece on the ratlines, he proceeded to bind the starboard end fast to the outer shroud.
This was quickly done by a few deft turns of the strong twine, and then the sailor descended a little.
“Next size!” he cried, and another piece was passed up, this being a trifle longer.
It proved to fit exactly, showing how accurately the bundle of pieces had been prepared for the object in view.
“Next!” cried the man, and the piece was handed, placed in position on the opposite ratlines, and secured in turn.
“See what these are for?” said the Norseman, smiling.
“Yes; you are making a ladder, so as to get from side to side,” replied Steve; “but you can’t make it very far down, it would take tremendously long pieces when we get lower.”