ent would produce
the final catastrophe. It required a prodigious effort in the young man
to raise his own weight for such a distance, by lines so small. Had the
rope been of any size, the achievement would have been trifling for one
of the frame and habits of the sailor, more especially as he could
slightly avail himself of his feet, by pressing them against the rocks;
but, as it was, he felt as if he were dragging the mountain up after
him. At length, his head appeared a few inches above the rocks, but with
his feet pressed against the cliff, and his body inclining outward, at
an angle of forty-five degrees.

"Help him--help him, father!" exclaimed Mildred, covering her face with
her hands, to exclude the sight of Wychecombe's desperate struggles. "If
he fall now, he will be destroyed. Oh! save him, save him, Sir
Wycherly!"

But neither of those to whom she appealed, could be of any use. The
nervous trembling again came over the father; and as for the baronet,
age and inexperience rendered him helpless.

"Have you no rope, Mr. Dutton, to throw over my shoulders," cried
Wychecombe, suspending his exertions in pure exhaustion, still keeping
all he had gained, with his head projecting outward, over the abyss
beneath, and his face turned towards heaven. "Throw a rope over my
shoulders, and drag my body in to the cliff."

Dutton showed an eager desire to comply, but his nerves had not yet been
excited by the usual potations, and his hands shook in a way to render
it questionable whether he could perform even this simple service. But
for his daughter, indeed, he would hardly have set about it
intelligently. Mildred, accustomed to using the signal-halyards,
procured the old line, and handed it to her father, who discovered some
of his professional knowledge in his manner of using it. Doubling the
halyards twice, he threw the bight over Wychecombe's shoulders, and
aided by Mildred, endeavoured to draw the body of the young man upwards
and towards the cliff. But their united strength was unequal to the
task, and wearied with holding on, and, indeed, unable to support his
own weight any longer by so small a rope, Wychecombe felt compelled to
suffer his feet to drop beneath him, and slid down again upon the ledge.
Here, even his vigorous frame shook with its prodigious exertions; and
he was compelled to seat himself on the shelf, and rest with his back
against the cliff, to recover his self-command and strength. Mildred
utt