“No, no,” he cried, quick as thought. “No more stones, stand by with the rope.”
Syd threw himself down upon his chest and strained over the edge to watch what was going on, while, with the rapidity taught by discipline, the sailors seized the rope, and stood ready and waiting the next order.
It was not for them to think for themselves, but to act as their officers bade, and Syd was already one whom they trusted and flew to obey.
All this takes long to describe, but the action was quick enough.
The sailor at the end of the rope had, as Roylance drew nearer, spun himself round rapidly till the loop was tight about him as he sat astride in the bight, and then he began to swing himself to and fro, describing a longer and longer arc till he found that he could reach. Then with a sudden desperate movement he flung himself forward and grasped Roylance round the waist, seizing the line the midshipman held with his teeth, too; and then as, with the horror of despair, Roylance exerted his failing strength to get a grip of the bight of the hanging rope, Syd loudly shouted—
“Now, my lads, run them up.” It was just in time.
In spite of the rocks and dangerous nature of the top of the cliff, the men, who had been waiting, started away from the edge, the rope hissed in running over the limestone, and Roylance and his brave rescuer were literally snatched up ten feet as the shark made its second attack, but only to fall back into the sea with a mighty splash.
“Haul now!” cried Syd, excitedly, for the men could go no farther.
“No, no, avast! avast!” came up hoarsely from between the sailor’s teeth, as he and Roylance swung to and fro just above the maddened shark, which began to swim in a circle.
“Stop!” roared Syd. “Can you hold on, sir?” said the sailor. “Yes,” said Roylance. “Then here goes. Loose the line, sir.” His hands were free, and he had taken the tow-rope now from his teeth.