Without another word he sat on the lip of the rock on which they stood, and lowered himself to a tiny ledge which gave foothold. They watched him making his way down. It was no easy climb, but he did not hurry. Twice he advanced, and climbed a little higher to a point whence descent was more practicable. At last he vanished.
Sturgess, craning his neck over the seaward side of their narrow perch, could not see him, while the growl of the reef shut out all minor sounds.
Maseden was not long absent, but the three people whom he had left confessed afterwards that of all the nerve-racking experiences they had undergone since the ship struck, that silent waiting was the worst.
At last he reappeared. Nina, farthest up the cleft, was the first to see him, and she cried shrilly:
“Oh, thank God! He’s got a rope!”
A rope! Of what avail was a rope? Yet three hearts thrilled with great expectation. Why should Maseden bring a rope? It meant something, some plan, some definite means towards the one great object. They had an abounding faith in him.
The rope was slung around his shoulders in a noose, and he seemed to be tugging at some heavy weight which yielded but slowly to the strain. When he was still below the level of the ledge he undid the noose and passed it to Sturgess.
“Hold tight!” he shouted. “I’ve picked up the broken foremast. I’m going down to clear it off the rocks. When I yell, haul away steadily.”
They asked no questions. Maseden simply must be right. They listened eagerly for the signal, and put all their strength to the task when it came.