In truth I thought my arms would pull out of the sockets before I finally came alongside the spar.

Yet, thanks be to God, the rope held nobly, though it required every pound of remaining strength to haul my dangling body up, that I could rest across the wood before I felt after the standing rope beneath.

I clung there weak as a child, trembling like a frightened woman, the cold perspiration standing in drops upon my face.
I have been in far happier situations than that--lying bent nearly double across the yard of an enemy's ship on a black night, but at the moment, so sincerely rejoiced was I to be off that sagging rope, I felt like humming a tune.

Yet I contented myself with sliding along the smooth spar until I discovered a firm strand of rope beneath my feet, ventured then to stand upright, and clung for support to the cloth of the sail.

At last I gave our signal, and, as the line slackened to my hand, drew it cautiously in, coiling it as it came, until all was once again in my possession.