“Hold on,” cried Slagg, stuffing a mass of sail-cloth violently, by means of a hand-spike, underneath the binding rope of the raft.
“There now—yo ho! heave ho-o!”
Up went the end of the little ark of safety, and when one end was raised very little force was required to push it over.
“Hold on! hold on! hold o–o–on!” yelled Stumps, straining to prevent the raft from leaving the ship.
“No, no.—Let go! let go! let go-o-o!” roared Sam.
Stumps did let go and almost fell from the combined effect of his efforts and despair, as the raft swung off, splashed into the sea far out of reach, and hung half suspended from the yard-arm.
“It’s all up with us,” gasped Stumps.
“Not yet, but it will be all up with us in two minutes,” returned Sam, unable to repress a smile even at that moment.
“What d’ye mean?” said Stumps in amazement. “How can we ever git at it now?”
“Why, stoopid,” said Slagg, “don’t you see that we’ve only to go up the mast, out on the yard-arm, and slip down the rope.”