The lull seemed as if it would never come; and when it did Leslie felt afraid to stir lest the fragile material by which he supported his companion should give way. In a few moments, however, he was himself, and shouting so as to make his voice plainly heard—for, close as he was, his words seemed to be swept away as uttered—he uttered a few short clear orders, which were not obeyed.
“Do you hear?” he cried again, “Mr Van Heldre—quick!”
Still there was no reply by voice or action, and it seemed as if the weight upon Leslie’s wrists was growing heavier moment by moment. He yelled to him now, to act; and what seemed to be a terrible time elapsed before Van Heldre said hoarsely—
“One moment; better now. I felt paralysed.”
There was mother terrible pause, during which the storm beat upon them, the waves thundered at the base of the rock, and even at that height there came a rain of spray which had run up the face of the rock and swept over to where they lay.
“Now, quick!” said Van Heldre, as he lay face downward, spread-eagled, as a sailor would term it, against the face of the sloping granite.
What followed seemed to be a struggling scramble, a tremendous effort, and then with the wind shrieking round them, Van Heldre reached the level, and crept slowly to the shelter of the parapet.
“Great heavens!” panted Leslie, as he lay there exhausted, and gazed wildly at his companion. “What an escape!”
There was no reply. Leslie thought that Van Heldre had fainted, for his eyes were nearly closed, and his face seemed to be drawn. Then he realised that his lips were moving slowly, as if in prayer.
“Hah!” the rescued man said at last, his words faintly heard in the tempest’s din. “Thank God! For their sake—for their sake.”