“Nor I.”
“You might sustain yourselves by taking hold of the bushes. It is not so difficult as it appears. Those tufts of grass would help you; and there are points where you might place your feet. I could climb it easily myself; but, unfortunately, it would be impossible for me to assist you. There is not room for two to go up together.”
“I am sure I should fall before I was halfway to the top!”
This was said by Cornelia. Julia signified the same. The negress had no voice. With lips ashy pale, she seemed too much terrified to speak.
“Then there is no alternative but to try swimming,” said the stranger, once more facing seaward, and again scrutinising the surf. “No!” he added, apparently recoiling from the design, “by swimming I might save myself, though it is no longer certain. The swell has increased since I came in here. There’s been wind on the sea outside. I’m a fair swimmer; but to take one of you with me is, I fear, beyond my strength.”
“But, sir!” appealed she of the dark eyes, “is it certain we could not stay here till the tide falls again?”
“Impossible! Look there!” answered he, pointing to the cliff.
There could be no mistaking what he meant. That line trending horizontally along the façade of the precipice, here and there ragged with sea-wrack, was the high-water mark of the tide. It was far overhead!
The girls uttered a simultaneous scream as they stood regarding it. It was, in truth, the first time they had felt a full sense of their danger. Hitherto they had been sustained by a hope that the tide would not mount so high as to submerge them. But there was the tell-tale track, beyond reach even of their hands!
“Courage!” cried the stranger, his voice all at once assuming a cheerful tone, as if some bright thought had occurred to him. “You have shawls, both of you. Let me have them.”