THE REFUGEES Watts was whimpering some broken excuse to his angry skipper when a coil of stout rope fell on top of the windlass and rebounded to the deck.

More than that, one end of it stretched into the infinity of dripping rock and flying spray overhead.

And it had been thrown by friendly hands.

Though it dangled from some unseen ledge, its purpose seemed to be that of help rather than slaughter, whereas every other act of the inhabitants of Fernando Noronha had been suggestive of homicidal mania in its worst form.
Coke and Hozier recovered the use of their faculties simultaneously.
The eyes of the two men met, but Coke was the first to find his voice.
"Salvage, by G--d!" he cried.

"Up you go, Hozier! I'll sling the girl behind you.