“Now, girls,” he chortled, “this is the guy who really needs watching. If he doesn’t play fair let’s heave him into the sea.”
So three pairs of eyes saw to it that their rescuer had his full allowance. Then the bottle was put away, and the castaways took stock of their surroundings.
At first sight the position was grotesquely disheartening. Beneath, to the left, was the sea. Behind them rose an overhanging wall of rock, which swung round to the right and cut off the ledge. The cleft itself was some twelve feet wide, and the opposite wall rose fully ten feet. In a word, no chamois or mountain goat could have made the transit.
They all surveyed the situation from every point of view afforded by the fifteen feet of ledge. There was no reason to express opinions. Escape, in any direction, looked frankly impossible.
Then Maseden examined the cleft beneath.
“We cannot go up,” he said quietly. “In that case, as we certainly don’t mean to stay here, I’m going down.”
It was feasible, with care, to climb down to sea level, but the huge rollers breaking over the reef sent a heavy backwash against the cliff. The swirl of water rose and fell three feet at a time, with enough force to throw the strongest man off his balance.
“Do you mean that you intend jumping into the sea, Mr. Maseden?” said Madge Forbes.
She was quite calm now. She put that vital question as coolly as though it implied nothing more than a swimmer’s pastime. Their eyes clashed, and, for the first time, the man saw that Madge possessed no small share of Nina’s self-control. Her earlier collapse was of the body, not of the soul.
“It doesn’t mean that I shall willingly commit suicide,” he answered. “If it comes to that, I suggest that we all go together. I’m merely taking a prospecting trip. There’s no way out above. I must see what offers below.”