“‘Like you gave your crew?’
“‘Oh, don’t, Martin—don’t! I was crazy. All that I said about not believing in God and hell, I didn’t mean that. I’m afraid of it—afraid. I was always afraid of it, but never like now, Martin—never so afraid of the burning pit as now—never, never. Help me up, Martin— I’m weak— I can hardly stand. Help me, won’t you, Martin? You’re twice the man I am—no man ever sailed with me had your strength, Martin. Help me, won’t you, Martin?’
“I lifted him up, and the two of us clung to the end of the bowsprit. He looked weak as water then, and I pitied him, and pitying him I pointed out what chance we had. ‘There’s the cliff, and there’s what’s below. It’s one chance in ten to a man that can leap well.’
“‘I never could leap well, Martin.’
“‘No, you couldn’t—nor do anything much that other boys could do—no money in leaping, I s’pose. But there it is—and you c’n have your choice. Will you jump first, or last?’
“‘You go first, Martin. If you make it, maybe you c’n help me—maybe pass me a bit of line or something. See, I’ve got a bit of line I took along. You go first, Martin—you go first. It’s an awful jump to take, though.’
“‘There’s men of your crew took more awful jumps to-night, George Hoodley. They jumped from this world to the other when the spars went. Well, I’m going. Give me room to swing my arms. Now, if I miss, good-by. If we both miss, then I s’pose we’ll be standing up and giving account together in a few minutes. I’ve got enough on my conscience, but I’m glad I’m not you. Stand clear of me now—when she lifts, I’m going.’
“The Cromwell lifted. Her bowsprit rose up and up till the end of it was higher than the ledge in the wall of rock before us. I waited till the last little second—till the bowsprit swayed in toward the cliff, and then, while it balanced there and before it started to settle again, knowing, as you all know, the power that’s in the uplift of a sea, I gathered myself and jumped. And ’twas a good leap. I didn’t think I could do it, cold and numb as I’d been feeling. A good leap, yes. And ’twas the wet, slippery shelf of rock I landed on; but I went a yard clear, and even when I slipped a little I checked myself before I slipped back to the edge, and was safe. Well, I lay there till I felt my nerve steady again, then stood up and called for the line from the Skipper.
“‘Now, when you jump,’ I says, ‘I’ll get what brace I can here, so if you slip on the edge same’s I did there’ll be a chance to save you. But mind you, George Hoodley, if I find I can’t hold you up—if it’s to be your life or mine—it’s you that’s got to go. Mind that. And hurry—throw it quick, or I’ll cast off the line altogether. That bowsprit won’t be there in a few minutes, maybe. Hurry up!’
“‘But you’ll hang on, won’t you, Martin? You’ve got the strength, if you want to use it.’