loose, and pull
upon the other, until the whole line has come down--when that is done,
return here, and I will tell you more--but, for heaven's sake, keep
farther from the cliff."

The thought that the rope, small and frail as it seemed, might be of
use, flashed on the brain of the girl; and in a moment she was at the
staff. Time and again, when liquor incapacitated her father to perform
his duty, had Mildred bent-on, and hoisted the signals for him; and
thus, happily, she was expert in the use of the halyards. In a minute
she had unrove them, and the long line lay in a little pile at her feet.

"'Tis done, Wycherly," she said, again looking over the cliff; "shall I
throw you down one end of the rope?--but, alas! I have not strength to
raise you; and Sir Wycherly and father seem unable to assist me!"

"Do not hurry yourself, Mildred, and all will be well. Go, and put one
end of the line around the signal-staff, then put the two ends together,
tie them in a knot, and drop them down over my head. Be careful not to
come too near the cliff, for--"

The last injunction was useless, Mildred having flown to execute her
commission. Her quick mind readily comprehended what was expected of
her, and her nimble fingers soon performed their task. Tying a knot in
the ends of the line, she did as desired, and the small rope was soon
dangling within reach of Wychecombe's arm. It is not easy to make a
landsman understand the confidence which a sailor feels in a rope. Place
but a frail and rotten piece of twisted hemp in his hand, and he will
risk his person in situations from which he would otherwise recoil in
dread. Accustomed to hang suspended in the air, with ropes only for his
foothold, or with ropes to grasp with his hand, his eye gets an
intuitive knowledge of what will sustain him, and he unhesitatingly
trusts his person to a few seemingly slight strands, that, to one
unpractised, appear wholly unworthy of his confidence. Signal-halyards
are ropes smaller than the little finger of a man of any size; but they
are usually made with care, and every rope-yarn tells. Wychecombe, too,
was aware that these particular halyards were new, for he had assisted
in reeving them himself, only the week before. It was owing to this
circumstance that they were long enough to reach him; a large allowance
for wear and tear having been made in cutting them from the coil. As it
was, the ends dropped some twenty feet below the ledge on which he
st