This done, he made for the next ring hanging from the harbour wall, passed the fresh rope through, and hauled in all the slack.
“Now, Tom,” he cried, “both together—ahoy—ahoy!”
He threw all his strength into the hauling, aided by the man-o’-war’s man’s last remaining force; no little either, for despair gave the poor fellow a spasmodic kind of power, so that the rope passed through the ring and whizzed and quivered, it was so tight. Then another stay was found and a hitch taken twice round that before Aleck fastened off, and, panting heavily, went up a step or two to the assistance of his humble friend.
“You can let go now, Tom. I have her fast.”
“Sure, Master Aleck?”
“Yes, certain. Let go; and mind what you’re about, or you’ll slip overboard.”
“It’s all right, sir,” said the man, in a hoarse whisper. “I’ve let go now.”
“Nonsense! What are you thinking about? You’ve got hold tight as ever.”
“Nay, I arn’t, Master Aleck. I let go when you telled me. I’m on’y leaning agen the rope to keep from going down into the water.”
“Why, Tom, what’s the matter with you?” cried Aleck, wonderingly, as he placed his hands on his companion’s. “I tell you that you’re holding on as tight as ever.”