Swept with the stream Alan contrived to retain his hold round the waist of Rose. Barcus shot past him unseen in the darkness. It was not until Alan had contrived to stay himself and his almost witless burden beneath the mouth of the shaft that he discovered Barcus alive, if almost unrecognizable in his mask of mould and soot, battling back toward the shaft against the knee-deep tide.
Immediately before them dangled the hoisting bucket and rope.
Surrendering the care of Rose to Barcus, Alan climbed into the bucket and stared upward, examining the walls of the shaft for a way to the top. There was none other than the most difficult; the one feasible route was via the rope.
He lifted himself up on the rope, wound it round one leg, and began that heart-breaking climb. And somehow, by almost superhuman effort, it was eventually accomplished.
He arrived at the top of the shaft far too exhausted to show surprise when, falling in half-fainting condition within two feet of the brink, he saw Judith Trine running across the clearing.
Without her aid he would not within hours have been able to work the windlass and lift Rose and Barcus to the surface.
