Sometimes it was stationary, sometimes it was drawn taut. The
first great wave that came flung a yard or so of slack amongst
them. Then, after the roar of its breaking had died away, they
saw the rope suddenly tighten, and pass rapidly out, and the
excitement began to thicken.
"That 'un didn't get him, anyway," one of them muttered.
"He'll go through the next, with luck," another declared hopefully.
Lessingham, fighting for his consciousness, deafened and half
stunned by the roar of the waters about him, still felt the
exhilaration of that great struggle. He looked once into seas
which seemed to touch the clouds, drew himself stiff, and plunged
into the depths of a mountain of foaming waters, whose summit
seemed to him like one of those grotesque and nightmare-distorted
efforts of the opium-eating brain. Then the roar sounded all
behind him, and he knew that he was through the breakers. He swam
to the side of the ship and clutched hold of a chain. It was Sir
Henry's out-stretched hand which pulled him on to the deck.
"My God, that was a swim!" the latter declared, as he pulled his
rescuer up, not in the least recognising him. "Let's have the end
of that cord, quick! So!" he went on, paying it out through his
fingers until the end of the rope appeared. "You'd better get your
breath, young man, and then over you go.
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