At that moment he swayed suddenly forward and disappeared from view. He had fallen into one of holes he had feared to meet. As he did so, the tawny-headed monsters of the water dashed hissing in and swept over the pool in which he lay.
The conditions of this pool were very different from the low-level waters in the gap. Here the lower water was almost wholly undisturbed laterally, for the water, the plain of rock in which the hole was, lay almost on a level with the still water, and the water in the pool was consequently almost undisturbed by the waves.
Cheyne rose in a few seconds close to the spot where he sank. The men in the yacht had hauled in the line softly when they saw him come to the surface, and thus they drew him across the hole. In a few seconds he was once more upright, and before another wave had time to reach him he had gained the yacht. Just as they hauled him up the side, the water rose and touched him once more.
But this time it was powerless to hurt him, and with a cheer from those on board, he was drawn over the bulwark of the lee-side.
He was almost insensible. His shirt and drawers were torn into shreds, and beat in rags about him in the wind. He was bleeding from twenty wounds, not one of which, however, was dangerous. The line had chafed through his shirt at the waist, and a livid circle marked where it had tightened upon him. His left wrist was torn and discoloured by the coil, and his hands, feet, and knees were covered with bruises and small cuts from his conflict in the narrow passage.
They had to support him as he stood, while they forced some brandy down his throat. Up from the forecastle they brought blankets and wrapped them round him. It was some minutes before he had sufficiently recovered to speak.
In the meantime the sailors had not been idle.
Captain Drew was competent and energetic. He knew the yacht would not hold together very much longer, and that every second was of vital importance. Already the block had been lashed for the whip, the whip was rove, and the men on shore were now pulling in the whip by means of the line Cheyne had carried out.
When Cheyne was first carried up windward, both the Duke and the Marquis went up to him and thanked him cordially, and commended his valour. Then they saw he was not in a position to understand them, so they contented themselves with superintending the application of blankets and the administration of brandy, now and then lending a hand to support his drooping figure. All on the yacht saw he was a stranger. They had seen the attempt and failure of Bence. They had seen this other man, this strange man, strip and jump in with the rope; and then they had seen nothing of him until he emerged from that narrow opening in the rock and encountered the first wave. While he was swimming towards them unseen, they were not ignorant of his progress, for repeated signals from the men on shore kept them informed of the way he made.
At the moment Cheyne dived, the Duke turned to the captain and asked him what he thought was the chance of success.