Then jerking the rope a little so as to get more freedom he stood well up, reached as high as possible, and drove in several more nails, and reached over to the other edge of the shutter, where he drove in a couple between the hinges, in case they should be wrenched.
“That must be safe now,” he said to himself, as he lowered himself down to a kneeling position in the gallery, the rope being tightened as he did so, yielding at first, but drawing as if it were made of indiarubber instead of the best hemp.
And now once more Tom felt a sensation of shrinking, for the time had come for his descent, which seemed very easy to talk about in the observatory, but very difficult to perform with the wind blowing a hurricane, and all around him a darkness so thick that it was like that of old—a darkness to be felt.
“But the telescope’s right,” thought Tom, “and the roofs safe;” and getting his lips to the broken opening, he yelled out, doubtful whether his words would be heard in the midst of that bewildering noise—“All right, uncle; lower away!”
He had thrust the hammer back inside his jacket, and now gave the rope a snatch, feeling it yield gently and steadily, as he rose and tried the knot with both hands, but had to thrust them out again to save himself from being dashed against the building, so fierce a squall once more struck him from behind.
The next instant he was once more pinned against the place, and held by the rope as well. This gave him renewed confidence.
“Uncle is on the look-out,” he muttered; and as soon as the worst pressure of the wind was over, he once more shouted through the opening, and losing no time, laid hold of the rail with both hands, resting his chest upon it, raised his legs horizontally, allowed them to drop down, and hung by his arms and the cord; then, as the rope gave, by his hands, and the next minute by the rope, which glided over the rail slowly, and then stopped short, leaving him swinging with his face level with the flooring, and swinging to and fro.
Whoosh! came the wind again, making him lose his hold of the rope and catch at the floor of the gallery, into which he drove his finger-nails for a moment, but only to have them wrenched away, as the wind shrieked and yelled in his ears, and turned him right round and round rapidly like an over-roasted joint.
“Lower away, uncle, lower away!” he shouted; but he might just as well have spared his voice, for not a word could by any possibility have been heard in the observatory, the wind sweeping breath and sound away, and nearly strangling him when he faced it.
Twice over he got a grip of the edge of the gallery, but only to be snatched away again and swung to and fro.