He fell back from the edge to a place in the grass where, tying the rope
round his body, and seating himself, he could brace his feet against a
ledge of rock. Then he pulled on the rope. It was round Carterette's
waist!

Carterette had told her falsehood without shame, for she was of those to
whom the end is more than the means. She began climbing, and Ranulph
pulled steadily. Twice he felt the rope suddenly jerk when she lost her
footing, but it came in evenly still, and he used a nose of rock as a
sort of winch.

The climber was nearly two-thirds of the way up when a cannon-shot boomed
out over the water, frightening again the vast covey of birds which
shrieked and honked till the air was a maelstrom of cries. Then came
another cannon-shot.

Ranulph's desertion was discovered. The fight was begun between a single
Jersey shipwright and a French war-ship.

His strength, however, could not last much longer. Every muscle of his
body had been strained and tortured, and even this lighter task tried him
beyond endurance. His legs stiffened against the ledge of rock, the
tension numbed his arms. He wondered how near Alixandre was to the top.
Suddenly there was a pause, then a heavy jerk. Love of God--the rope
was shooting through his fingers, his legs were giving way! He gathered
himself together, and then with teeth, hands, and body rigid with
enormous effort, he pulled and pulled. Now he could not see. A mist
swam before his eyes. Everything grew black, but he pulled on and on.