of escape, while the violent shaking of the
wreck, and the rapid advances of the waves, showed them that in a few
minutes even that uncertain foothold would be carried from beneath them.

Morton and his friend beckoned to their companions to bring on the
ropes. It was the work of a few seconds to uncoil them and to make one
end fast to the spars they had brought. These they fixed in the ground,
two of them holding on at the same time to the upper part of the spars.

Not till all the preparations were made did Morton shout to those below
to let them know that aid was at hand. In the centre of the group was a
female form--that it was Hilda there could be little doubt. The rope
was lowered with a pair of slings at the end of it. How anxiously did
those both above and below watch its descent! The end dropped some way
from the stern of the ship; it seemed a question whether it was within
reach of those whose existence depended on clutching it. A seaman
sprang towards it as it swung backwards and forwards in the gale, but he
missed his aim, and fell headlong into the seething water, which soon
silenced his death shriek. Another, an officer apparently, made the
attempt; he had secured a line round his body, he clutched the rope and
dragged it inboard. Even at that moment Spanish gallantry was
maintained; no undue haste was shown by any to secure their own lives.
The first care of the men was to secure Hilda in the slings; this was
speedily done, but it was soon seen that if she was hauled up by herself
she would run great risk of being thrown against the side of the cliff
and severely injured. The officer who had hauled in the rope
accordingly secured himself to it, and made a sign to those above to
hoist away. The fearful rocking of the ship made them do this with all
the speed of which they were capable. At any moment the ship might go
to pieces; Morton stood nearest the edge. At length the head of Pedro
Alvarez appeared, and while with one arm he kept the end of the rope
from dashing against the cliff, with the other he supported the almost
inanimate form of Hilda Wardhill. She was speedily released from the
rope, which was again lowered, while Captain Maitland and one of the men
carried her to a hollow in the downs, which afforded some shelter from
the wind. The brave lieutenant made signs that he was going to descend
again, but Morton, who saw that it would be useless, refused to allow
him. The rope was l