“Because I should order him not to go, and would not allow it, Mr Roylance,” said Syd, firmly.
“Brayvo, young game-cock!” muttered Strake, who was busy with a line. “My, what a orficer I shall make o’ him.”
“It would be too dangerous a job for any man to attempt. The sea swarms round the rock with hungry fish, and I don’t mind saying I should be just as much afraid to go as I should be to let one of my men go.”
“There, sir, I think this here ’ll do it,” said Strake, coming forward with a ring of line and a marlin-spike tied across at the end. “If you’ll give leave for me to go with half a dozen o’ the men along yonder, we may be able to hook her as she comes along.”
“Come along, then,” said Syd. “But will not that marlin-spike slip out?”
“That’s just what I’m afraid on, sir. Ought to be a little tiny grapnel as would hold on, but this is the best I can think on.”
The party climbed along the rocks, which formed a perpendicular wall from thirty to forty feet high, till they were some twenty yards beyond the derelict. Place was given to the boatswain, who had the line laid out in coils, and while he waited he carefully added to the stability of the marlin-spike with some spun-yarn.
And all this time, rising and falling, the water-logged boat came on, the current drawing it in till it was only some thirty yards away from the cliff where they stood, and the men whispered together as to the possibility of the boatswain throwing so far. At last she was nearly opposite.
“Stand by,” growled the boatswain, gruffly. “Hold on to the end o’ that line, Rogers, my lad, and stick to it if there comes a tug; then tighten easily, for we’ve got to check her way if my grappling-iron does take hold.”
“Stand clear all,” said Syd, as the old man made the marlin-spike spin round like a Catherine wheel at the end of three feet of the line. The speed increased till it produced a whizzing sound; then, letting it go, away it flew seaward right over the derelict, and the men gave a cheer.