She knew it would be useless to try and dissuade him; but she determined to remain and watch.
It was weary work waiting for the light to come. Ropes had been procured, and a heavy crowbar driven firmly down.
‘No danger of them breaking,’ said Wal Jessop as he handled the ropes. ‘You must keep the rope well away from the rock as you lower me down; if it frays on a jagged sharp edge it might break.’
At last daylight began to appear, and in these climes there is not long to wait before it is quite light.
As the men looked over the cliffs they could see no sign of any living creature. Spars and timbers had been dashed upon the rocks, and remained there, but they were the only signs of the wreck.
‘If timber can lodge there,’ said Jessop, ‘maybe some poor fellow has managed to be cast up out of reach of the waves. Make ready quickly; we must lose no time.’
The men set to work with a will. The stoutest rope was not long enough to reach to the foot of the rocks, and another long one had to be fastened on. The end was made fast to the iron bar, bags were put along the edge of the cliff to prevent the rope fraying, and, when Wal Jessop had inspected everything, and found all right, he tied the rope round his waist, and stood ready to make the descent. It was a perilous task, for the wind was still high and the face of the rocks dangerous, having so many sharp projections against which he might be knocked as he was lowered down.
He kissed his wife, and bade her think only of the duty he had to perform; and if there was a spice of danger in it, why, so much the better, and the more credit to a man for undertaking it.
‘You ought to be proud I’m going to do it,’ he said; ‘there’s not a man here who does not envy me the job, and would like to take it on himself.’
‘That’s so,’ said one of the men. ‘It’s because we have such respect for your husband that we’re letting him have first turn. If he wants to go down a second time, I reckon there’ll be a dispute about it.’