That's your sort.

Now, my London prime, let go with them hands." "No, no," groaned the unfortunate man.

"I dare not." "Then I shall have to make you," roared the boatswain.

"Heave ahead there!" The rope tightened and there was a tremendous strain upon the man's chest, while, by a dexterous snatch, Small jerked one of the clinging hands free and thrust Jimpny off the shroud, making him swing round in the air, and this helped to jerk the other hand from its grip.
"Now you have him.

Down he goes." It was all so rapidly done that it took Mark's breath away.