A gushing and tossing stream of creamy water issued from the face of the rock. It silvered down and flattened out where the waves lapped up a shelving shore. The roar of this waterfall was faint and musical, like a melody set in a dream.
Stirling remained at the porthole, looking toward the shore. His eyes grew intent, and now he made out details which had at first been overlooked. Crags and moss were apparent; a shelf grew from a dark line to a possible passageway for an agile man. He traced the course of this and saw that it vanished over the extreme edge of the highest cliff where the dark stone stood out against the star-scattered sky.
"I can climb that," he said with conviction. "That is a road to Siberia."
He listened as a sound floated from the quarter-deck. Steps were directly over him, and a shadow fell along the surface of the heaving waters, a shadow slight and elfin.
Dangling before his startled eyes, and partly blotting out the view of the open night, there had appeared an object which was fastened on the end of a loose line.
As it swung back and forth a foot scraped close to the ship's rail, and a low voice called with musical timbre.
Stirling reached out through the porthole and drew in the line. He untied the packet, which was knotted by a square knot, and waited. The line was drawn upward; a belaying pin creaked in the pinrail; the steps sounded again. Then they seemed to be aft.
Backing from the ship's skin, and feeling behind with his left hand, Stirling found the edge of the bunk and sat down with heavy thoughts. He toyed with the packet and weighed it by moving his right hand up and down in the gloom.
Unbinding it slowly, he scented for the first time the aroma of heliotrope. Once before he had detected that perfume. That was when the girl had appeared at the galley porthole and handed in the revolver.
He removed a lace handkerchief, thrust it into his shirt pocket, and smiled at the practical present which had been lowered from the poop. The offering was to the point and suggestive. He counted twenty-five tiny cartridges which most certainly were designed for the little silver-plated revolver.