We heard the hook-rope catch the ring, the European landed, lurching unsteadily, and disappeared up the path with the bowman and the two sentries.
Instantly the Commander slid over the edge of our ledge and went wriggling down. He made hardly any noise, and gave a low whistle when he had reached the bottom.
With my heart in my mouth I followed, grasping every branch and bit of rock, and lowering myself down. Everything I touched seemed to make an awful noise.
When I was half-way down my foot slipped, I grabbed at a branch, missed it, and went falling headlong, smashing through bushes, dislodging stones, and falling with a crash into a bush at the bottom.
The Commander was at my side in a moment.
"Not hurt, Glover? No. That's all right. Keep absolutely still; the men in the boat heard you, but they are not moving."
We waited a minute; the two men began talking to one another (we could just see their faces in the glow of the sentry's fire above them), and then Jones commenced to climb down, making wonderfully little noise for such a big man as he was. Some stones came rattling down, however, and the men became uneasy again, looking over their shoulders towards us, but not leaving the boat, and, of course, not being able to see us.
As Jones joined us the lantern reappeared, and the European came stumbling down the steps.
The coxswain began excitedly talking to him, pointing in our direction ("Get hold of a big stone, each of you, and hide in the long grass," the Commander whispered), but the European, evidently rather drunk, only cursed him, got into the boat, and still cursing made them shove off.
We breathed freely again and then waited.