“Draw it, sir; hold it in your teeth, to leave your hands free, and if any one comes at you use it. That thing can’t kill.”
Mark drew a deep breath, thrust himself half out of the window, turned, and gazed up.
All was perfectly silent—not a suggestion of an enemy above; and getting right out, the boy seized the carved ornamentation of the stern above the window, raised one foot, to find a resting-place on a kind of broad beading or streak, and began to climb.
Chapter Thirty Seven.
On Deck again.
Nothing of a climb up over the stern of that schooner, a trifle compared to the same task on the Nautilus; but it was hard work to Mark Vandean, who had to move by inches, getting well hold and drawing himself up till he was about to reach his hand over the top, when he felt one foot gliding from its support, and thought that he was gone. But a spasmodic clutch saved him, and after clinging there motionless and in a terribly constrained attitude for a time, he drew a long breath once more, reached up suddenly, got a secure hold, and then hung for a few moments before seeking about with his foot for a fresh resting-place.
To his great delight, he found one directly; and, slight as it was, it was sufficient to enable him to raise his head very slowly till his eyes were level with the edge, and he could peer over the stern rail.
That which he saw paralysed him, and he remained perfectly motionless, gazing at the black silhouette of the man at the helm seen against the dull, soft light shed by the binnacle lamp.