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Sappers and Miners; The Flood beneath the Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 6. At An Awkward Corner |
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_ CHAPTER SIX. AT AN AWKWARD CORNER "Hurrah!" yelled Joe, half mad with excitement. "It is long enough, and he has got it. He was trying if it was safe." "Hooroar!" shouted Hardock, hoarsely, for he was as excited as the boy. "Hold tight, my lad; don't let him pull it out of your hands. But he won't, for I've got it, too. Why, it's all right, young Jollivet, and the old mine goblins had nothing to do with it, after all. We'll soon have him up." "Yes, we'll soon have him up," cried Joe, hysterically, and he burst into a strange laugh. "I say, how he frightened us, though!" And in those moments of relief from the tension they had felt, it seemed like nothing that the lad was two hundred feet down the terrible precipice, about to swing at the end of the rope which had played him so false but a short time before. "He's making the line fast round him, Sam. I can feel it quiver and jerk. Shout down to him to be sure and tie the knots tight." "Nay, nay, you let him be. He don't want no flurrying. Trust him for that. He knows how to make himself fast." "Think so?" said Joe, hoarsely; and he felt the hands which held the rope grow wet. "Nay, don't want no thinking, my lad. He'll manage all right." "He has," cried Joe, excitedly. "Do you feel? He's signalling for us to haul him up." For three sharp tugs were given at the rope. "Ay, that means all right," said Hardock. "Now you hold on tight." "I can't haul him all alone." "Nay, not you. Nobody wants you to try; I only want you to hold while I get ready. It wouldn't do to let one end go loose, would it?" As he spoke Hardock relinquished his hold of the rope, and began to strip off his jacket. "What are you going to do? You're not going down, Sam?" "You wait a bit: you'll see," said the man; and he folded his coat into a large pad, which he laid over the edge of the rock. "Now you lay the rope on that, my lad, and give me the end. That's the way; now it won't be cut." "When we haul it over the rock? No; I see." "But we aren't going to haul it over the rock," said Hardock, nodding his head. "I'll show you a way worth two of that." He took the end and pulled it over, and made a loop, leaving just enough free line for the purpose; and slipping it over one shoulder and across his breast diagonally, he stood ready. Meanwhile jerk after jerk was given to the rope, each signal which reached Joe's hands making him thrill with eagerness. "There, he must be ready now," growled Hardock. "Ready? Yes," cried the boy, impatiently. "Then you are going to walk away with the rope?" "Ay, that's it; draw steadily as I go right along the Hog's Back. All right. Look out," he shouted as the word "Haul!" reached their ears. "There, you stand fast, my lad, ready to help him when he comes up to the edge. Now then--off!" Hardock, who stood with his back now to the cliff edge, started off at a slow steady walk inland, and Joe dropped upon his breast and craned his neck over the edge of the precipice to watch the block below which hid his comrade from his sight. But not for many moments now. All at once Gwyn's head appeared, then his chest, and his arms were busy as he seemed to be helping himself over the rock; and the next minute, as Hardock steadily walked away, the boy was hanging clear of the rock face, swinging to and fro and slowly turning round, suggesting that the layers of the rope were beginning to untwist. To use a familiar expression, Joe's heart felt as if it were in his mouth, and he trembled with apprehension, dreading lest the rope should come untwisted or the hemp give way, the result of either of these accidents being that Gwyn must fall headlong on to the sea-washed rocks below. Consequently, Joe's eyes were constantly turning from the ascending figure to the rough pad over which the rope glided, and back again, while his heart kept on beating with a slow, heavy throb which was almost suffocating. The distance to ascend was very short under the circumstances, but to both boys, as they found when they afterwards compared notes, it seemed to be interminable, and it is doubtful which of the two suffered the more--Joe, as he gazed down with strained eyes and his vacant hands longing to seize the rope, or Gwyn, as he hung with elbows squared, fists clenched on the knot of the rope to ensure its remaining fast, and his head thrown back and face gazing up at his comrade when he slowly turned breast inward, at the sky when he turned back to the rocky wall. So short a distance for Hardock to continue--his tramp less than two hundred feet--and yet it seemed so great, for every nerve was on the strain, and no one spoke a word. It was in Joe's heart to keep on saying encouraging words to Gwyn, and to utter warnings to Hardock, and advice as to going slow or fast, but not a word would come. He could only stare down at the upturned face or at the bare head to which the wet hair clung close. But all the time Gwyn was steadily rising, and in a few seconds more Joe felt that he would have to act--catching hold of his comrade by the rope about his chest and helping him over the edge into safety. "Will he never come?" groaned Joe, softly. "Oh, make haste, Hardock, make haste." He turned to look round once to see the strained rope and Hardock bending forward like some animal drawing a load, and the rope looked so thin that he shivered. Then, as it did not part, he felt a pang of dread, for he felt that the risk for his comrade was doubled by the feet that he was dependent upon two knots now instead of one, the slipping of either meaning certain death. The moisture in Joe's hands grew more dense, and the great drops gathered upon his forehead, ran together and glided down his nose with a horrible tickling sensation; and as he now gazed down once more at Gwyn's hard, fixed, upturned face and straining eyes, his own grew dim so that he could only see through a mist, while a strange, paralysing feeling began to creep through him, so that he knew that he would not be able to help. And all the time Gwyn rose higher and higher, till he was not ten feet below the edge, and now the horrible, numbing chill which pervaded Joe's being was chased away, for he found that he was suddenly called upon to act--to do something to help. For the action of the rope had told upon the jacket laid there to soften the friction, and it began to travel slowly from the edge, keeping time with the rope, which now ground over the edge, and, to Joe's horror, looked as if it were fraying. Bending down, he seized the pad and tried to thrust it back in its place, but soon found that this was impossible, and, before he could devise some plan, the knot in front of Gwyn's breast reached the edge, and a greater call was made upon him for help. The inaction had passed away, and he shouted to Hardock to stop. "Keep it tight!" he roared; and he went down on his knees, leaned over, caught hold of the loop on either side close beneath Gwyn's arms, and essayed to lift him over the edge on to the rocky platform. It was a bitter lesson in his want of power, for, partly from his position there on the extreme edge of the terrible precipice, partly from its being a task for a muscular man, he found out he could not stir Gwyn in the least, only hold him tighter against the rock, pressing the great knot of the rope into the boy's chest. "Up with him, lad!" shouted Hardock from where he stood straining the rope tight. "Up with him--right over on to the rock!" Joe's eyes dilated and he gazed horror-stricken into the eyes of his comrade, who hung there perfectly inert, while just overhead three great grey gulls wheeled round and round, uttering their screams, and looking as if they expected that the next minute the boy would have fallen headlong on to the stones beneath. "Come, look sharp!" shouted Hardock; "this rope cuts. Up with him quick!" "Can--can you get hold of anything and--and help?" panted Joe at last, hoarsely. Gwyn stared at him as if he had heard him speak, but did not quite comprehend what he said. "Quick, Ydoll! Do you hear! Do something to help. Get hold." This seemed to rouse the boy, who slowly loosened his hold of the rope, and then, with a quick spasmodic action, caught hold of the collar of Joe's jacket on either side. "Now--your feet," said Joe, in a harsh whisper. "Try and find foothold." "Can you--hold?" said Gwyn, faintly. "Yes, I'll try," was the reply, and Gwyn's toes were heard scraping over the rock again and again, but without result, and Joe uttered a piteous groan. "Can't you do it?" cried Hardock from the other end. "Why, it's as easy as easy. Up with him." "No--no! Can't move!" cried Joe, frantically. "Hold tight of him then till I come," cried the man, and Joe uttered a piercing shriek, for the rope went down with a jerk which drew him forward upon his chest as his hands were torn from their hold, and he clutched wildly at the rock on either side to save himself from going down. Just then one of the gulls swooped close to his head and uttered its strange querulous cry. _ |
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