A faint "here," that sounded far away reached their ears.
"He's alive! I tell you, he's alive!" cried Bob Jarvis.
Grabbing the end of one of the planks that he had torn loose, Bob began dragging it toward the edge of the platform.
"What are you going to do, lad?"
"Do? Why, sir, I'm going after him."
"Wait; let the men do that. I cannot have you going in there," objected Mr. Penton. But Bob did not stop. He hauled the plank over, and, snatching the rope, made one end of the latter fast about the plank. He then began letting the plank over the side, end first. It nearly got away from him, the rope burning the skin from his palms as it spun through his hands.
"Let me help you." Mr. Penton sprang forward, throwing himself on the fast running rope.
"The plank is on the water. It can't get away from us now," said Bob, beginning to strip off his jacket, first having stuck his candlestick in a niche in the rocks.
"You are not going over!"
"Yes, sir, I am going over. We haven't a minute to lose."