The Ocean Cat's Paw Part 62

"Now, look here; how are you holding on?"

"Hanging down'ards, my lad, with my hind legs tied in a knot round a big bough; and I keep on trying to get hold of you by the scruff, but I can't quite reach."

"Why, that's a-hinging like the bees used to do outside my old mother's skep. Well, you mustn't let go, my lad, else down you come."

"Well, I know that, mate," growled the man. "But I say, can't you reach up to my hands?"

"Yah! No!" growled Joe. "I've only got two. Can't you reach down a little further and get hold of my ears, or something?"

"My arms aren't spy-gla.s.ses, and they won't reach within a foot of you.

Can any of you swarm out above us here?"

"No--no--no!" came in voice after voice, from points that were evidently fairly distant.

"Oh!" groaned the sailor addressed as Harry. "Fust time in my blessed life I ever wished I was a 'Merican monkey."

"What for, mate?" panted Joe.

"So as to make fast round this 'ere branch with my tail."

"Joe! Joe!" came in a low hoa.r.s.e tone. "Where am I!"

"Well, you are here, my lad; but don't let go with your teeth. Take another good fast hold, but more outside like. Keep to the wool of the jumper--if you can."

"Hah! I recollect now. We are in the water, and I have got hold of you."

"That's right, my lad, and I'd say take a good fast holt of my hair, only Ikey Gregg scissored it off so short when it turned so hot that there's nothing to hold. But can you hyste yourself up a bit higher?"

"I'll try, Joe; but the water drags at me so. But, Joe, what are you holding on to?"

"What they'd call a arm of the tree, sir."

"But if I try to climb up you shan't I drag you loose?"

"Oh, I'm no consequence, my lad. If I'm washed off I shall get hold again somewheres. Never you mind me. There's Harry Briggs up aloft a-reaching down a couple of his hands. If you feel you've got stuff enough in you.--Take your time over it, my lad--you see if you can't swarm a bit up me and then stretch up and think you are at home trying to pick apples, till Harry gets a big grip of your wristies; and then you ought to be able to swarm up him. Now then, do you think you can try?"

"Yes, Joe; I think so," panted the boy. "That's right, my lad. I'd give you a lift, only I can't, for I'm in rotten anchorage, and we mustn't get adrift."

About a minute pa.s.sed, in which little was heard but the whishing of the water through the leaves and twigs, and the sound of hard breathing.

Then Joe spoke again--

"I don't want to hurry you, my lad, but if you think you can manage it I'd say, begin."

"I'm ready now, Joe," said the boy faintly. "But do you think you can hold on?"

"Aren't got time to think, my lad. You go on and do it. That's your job, and don't you think as it's a hard 'un. Just you fancy the doctor's yonder getting anxious about you, and then--up you goes."

"Yes, Joe," panted Rodd.

"And once you get hold of Harry Briggs' hands he'll draw you up a bit.

He's a-hinging down like one of them there baboons, tail up'ards. Then, once he hystes you a bit, you get a good grip of him with your teeth anywhere that comes first. He won't mind. That'll set your hands free, and then up you goes bit by bit till you gets right into the tree."

"Yes, Joe; and then?"

"Well, my lad, then I'd set down striddling and have a rest."

"Below there! Ready!" cried Briggs. "I can't reach no further, youngster, but I think if you can climb up and grip we might manage it."

"Yes! Coming!" cried Rodd.

And then no one saw, and afterwards Rodd could hardly tell how he managed it, but with the water pressing him closer as he clung face to face with the partially submerged c.o.xswain, he managed to scramble higher, clinging with arms and legs, till he occupied a hazardous position astride of the sailor's shoulder, holding on with his left hand and reaching up with his right, s.n.a.t.c.hing for a few moments at nothing.

"Where are you, my lad?" came from above.

"Here! Here!" panted Rodd, and then, "Ah, it's of no use!"

As he spoke he felt himself going over, but at that moment his fingers touched the sleeve of a soft clinging jersey, a set of fingers gripped hard at his arm, and in a supreme effort he loosened his other hand, made a s.n.a.t.c.h, and then began swinging gently to and fro till another hand from above closed upon his jacket and lightened the strain.

"Got you, my lad!" came from overhead. "Now look here; I'm not going to hyste you up, 'cause I can't, but I am going to swing you back'ards and for'ards like a pendulo till you can touch this 'ere bough where I am hanging, and then go on till you can get your legs round it and hold fast. Understand?"

"Yes," panted Rodd.

"Now then. Belay, and when you get hold you shout."

It was the work of an acrobat, such as he would have achieved in doubt and despair.

The sailor began swinging the boy to and fro, to and fro, with more and more force, till Rodd felt his legs go crashing in amongst the thick twigs of the great bough that was drawn down by the weight of the two upon it a good deal below the horizontal.

"Harder!" he cried, as he swung back, and then as his legs went well in again he felt that a thick portion was pa.s.sing between his knees, and thrusting forward his feet with all his might he forced them upwards and directly afterwards pa.s.sed them one across the other in a desperate grip which left him dragging on the sailor's hands.

"Fast, my lad?"

"Yes."

"Can you hold on?"

"Yes."

"Then good luck to you!" cried the sailor, as, relieved of the boy's weight, he too swung head downwards for a moment or two, then with a quick effort wrenched himself upwards, got hold of the branch with both hands, and after hanging like a sloth for a few moments, succeeded in dragging himself upon the bough, which all the while was swaying heavily up and down and threatening to shake Rodd from where he hung, but at the same time inciting him so to fresh desperate action, that with all a boy's activity he too had succeeded in perching himself astride of the branch.

"All right, my lad?" cried Briggs.

"Ye-es!" came gaspingly.

"Then you wait a bit and get your wind, my lad.--Joe Cross! Ahoy!" he yelled, as if his messmate were half-a-mile away.

"Right ho!" came from below. "Where's the boy?"

"Here, Joe--here!" shouted Rodd, the sound of the man's voice seeming to send energy through him.