And she held on to his hair as a child might, without a word, and as she held the strength of him seemed to permeate her through her fingers casting fear and misery out.
She felt as a tiny tired child feels when caught up and carried by its mother, and carrying her so he strode on, cursing himself for not having carried her before.
It was a three-mile journey to that roughness on the cliff and as he drew near he saw that they were saved, at least for the time.
The rock broke here in ledges like steps and twenty feet up and well beyond tide mark ran a little plateau some ten or twelve feet broad.
She saw it as well as he and filled with new strength she cried out to be set down.
“Stay easy,” said Raft. “It’s easier to carry the bundle with you on my shoulder, you ain’t no weight.”
Then when he reached the steps:
“Done it b’God,” said he.
He dropped the bundle and harpoon, and, lifting her, set her feet on the basalt steps.
“Can you climb it?” asked he.