“Well?” cried Captain Roby. “Found him?”
“Yes, sir. Seems to be quite insensible. I can get my arms round him and hold him if you can haul us up. Will the rope bear us both?”
“No!” came in a roar from up above, every man, in his excitement, negativing the proposal.
“Silence, men!” cried the captain angrily. Then he shouted down, “It would be too risky. Here, I’ll have the rope slackened, and you can untie it and make it fast round May’s chest. I’ll have him hauled up, and send the rope down again for you.—Slacken away, my lads.”
The pressure on the rope ceased for a moment as it was slackened, and then it tightened with a jerk, and there was a loud, echoing splash as Lennox was plunged into rushing water to the waist, the sensation being as if he had been suddenly seized and was being dragged under into some great hole.
“Hold hard!” he roared, and the echoes seized upon the last word—“Hard—hard—hard!”—running right away again till it was a whisper.
“Why, what are you about?” cried Roby.
“Trying to save the light,” panted Lennox. “There is no room to stand on the ledge with the poor fellow. Haul up a little more. My face is on a level with him now. Haul! haul! The water seems to suck me down. Ha!” he gasped; “that’s better,” and he wrenched himself round, catching at a piece of slippery rock that was against his waist, and looking for foothold, for a few moments in vain, till he saw a way out of his difficulty.
“How are you getting on?” cried the captain excitedly.
“I’m obliged to kneel right on the poor fellow,” said Lennox; “there’s so little room. He’s alive—I can feel his heart beating. Keep the rope tight for a few minutes.”