Hardly knowing what he did Roylance obeyed, and with the rapidity taught by much handling of hemp, the sailor passed the end of the tow-rope through the bight of that which supported them, and then sent it through again, and secured it with a knot.
It was just in time, for as he drew through the end and tugged at it, the line began to tighten, and draw them out of the perpendicular, then more and more away from the rock as the boat still glided away.
“All right, sir, I’ve got you now,” cried the sailor, clasping Roylance about the waist. “Now then, get your legs ’cross mine, and put your arms round my neck and the rope too. That’s your sort. Glad I saved your end from going after all that trouble.”
“Ready below?” cried Syd, as he looked down. “Well, no, sir,” said the sailor, “I wouldn’t haul yet, or t’other line might part.—Did you make it well fast aboard the boat, sir?” he continued to Roylance.
The latter nodded his head, and sat gazing down, shuddering, at the shark.
“Then you’d best wait, sir,” shouted the man, as they were drawn up higher and higher, swinging gently like a counterpoise. “You see our weight eases it off like on the boat, and we may get her yet.”
It seemed possible, for its rate was checked, but the slow deliberate glide still went on a little, flattening the curve formed by the two lines extending from the deck of the boat to the top of the rocks, fifty feet above the sea.
“One moment, Mr Roylance, sir,” said the man, as coolly as if he were in the rigging of the ship, and not suspended by a thin rope over the jaws of a monstrous shark. “I want to get my legs round facing that cliff there. That’s your sort. Now if your line gives way, as I’m feared it will—one minute: yes, the knot’s fast; that won’t draw—I say, if the rope gives way we shall go down again the rocks with a spang, but don’t you mind; it’ll only be a swing, and I’ll fend us off with my feet. My! we’re getting tight now. Look out, sir, we’re going.”
But the rope did not break, for seeing how dangerous the strain was becoming, Syd ordered the men behind him to ease off a little, and then a little more and a little more, till the progress of the water-logged vessel was gradually checked, and as they felt that the worst of the strain was over, the men on the cliff gave a cheer.
“Steady there, steady!” cried Terry, angrily, and the men murmured.