Melton joined him on the ledge a moment later. The torch he had left there was still burning, and its light showed the colonel where they were.
"Watch sharp below there," he cried, and almost instantly Guy felt something dangling before his face. He put out his hand and clutched a thin cord.
"By Jove, Melton, it's the fishing lines!" he exclaimed. "The colonel has tied them together."
No directions were needed to tell them what to do next. Guy loosened the hook and fastened the line to it securely.
"Go ahead," he shouted to the colonel, and the rope instantly began to ascend.
In less than five minutes, though it really seemed an hour, the colonel signaled down that all was ready.
It was a perilous undertaking to go up the face of the cliff with nothing but a smooth rope to hold to, but at Guy's bidding Forbes made the attempt.
A great load seemed lifted from Guy's mind when he heard his friend's voice at the top, and without a moment's hesitation he started up himself.
Had the face of the rock been perfectly smooth he could never have reached the summit, and even by the aid of the rough places he found it a terribly difficult task. Two or three times he swung helpless in mid-air, and just when he felt that he could go no farther he was pulled to the top without any effort of his own, and fell over from sheer exhaustion. He was all right in a moment or two and, hauling up the rope, they hurried back to the raft.
Canaris and Sir Arthur hailed them gladly. It was the work of a moment to attach the hook to the top of the ledge, and one by one they slid down to the raft.