"What if it should not be here?" I asked myself. Truly it should be a grand device for luring me unto my death; for it had been impossible for me to again cross the moat, so exhausted was I by the great exertion. Even the mighty giant by my side was breathing in great gasps, as though his Herculean strength were ebbing fast. Mine arms had now become so weak that I could scarce lift them above the surface for an instant that I might feel for the ladder.
"Here—sor," gasped my faithful squire, as he grasped me by the arm and drew me to him. "Oi—have it—at last—yer honour. The saints—be praised."
Yes, there it was, and how welcome did it feel to my trembling hand.
We remained thus, with our heads only above the water, for some moments, until we regained a part of our breaths.
I mounted the ladder first and climbed wearily to the top. Verily, never in all my life have I felt my body to be of such prodigious weight. Ah! I was on the top; and there I sat whilst Michael's enormous form came dripping out of the water below and wearily climbed the ladder.
"I climbed wearily to the top."
"Mither-o'-Gawd! Oi fale loike a damned drowned rat." And indeed I felt as though the simile applied unto me most thoroughly.
Then we drew up the ropes and, unfastening the hooks, we reversed them and let down the ladder on the other side. Down this we went, and, thank Heaven, we were free from that great, black, menacing congregation of cold, cruel towers and walls.