"You go on," he said gently. "I'm going to follow you now."
She had no option but to obey him, since to have remained there would merely have meant that Captain Dove, coming back for her, would have him at a greater disadvantage. And as she led the way in the dark, with slow steps, he followed quietly; while Lord Ingoldsby, left to his own devices as they disappeared, was brilliantly inspired to bolt back for help.
A little further on a thick twilight made progress more easily possible, and they could feel the salt breath of the sea on their fevered faces. Then, at last, they drew near the oblong opening in the cliff-face at which Captain Dove had for several minutes been busy abusing the men in the boat below. But he was in no better temper by then, since the empty bottle he had hurled at Slyne had knocked the steersman insensible.
"Is that you, Sallie?" he snapped, looking round.
"Below there, you lubbers! Stand in again. We're coming down now.
"Hurry up, girl!" he barked, impatiently. "It's high time we were away."
He was leaning out over the ledge, clinging with one hand to a bar of the great water-gate, so thick, that his stubby fingers did not meet round it. Carthew, creeping after Sallie set her suddenly aside, and ran at him.
Captain Dove heard him coming, but too late to save himself. He felt as if a bullock had kicked him in the small of the back, and, as his hold broke, he fell headlong, howling like an evil spirit, into the smothering, yeasty surge through which his boat was already hastily backing to pick him up.
Carthew set his back to the heavy gate, and it swung slowly shut. But Slyne had not left behind the key he had for its modern lock, and its old-fashioned draw-bolts were rusted fast. He could only hope that Lord Ingoldsby would bring back some means of bridging the drowning-hole before Captain Dove and his helpers could storm the position again.
He laughed, a little light-headed by then, as he stumbled up the long, dark slope, with Sallie close at his shoulder.