He rowed in as far as he dared. He mustn’t make it too far, but he had to get within hailing distance, and he thought he could do that. Without word from her, there was no deciding what to do next. If she had a reasonable foot and hand hold, he could land in the cove, fetch help, and get at her from the top of the cliff. But if she couldn’t be sure of holding on, he would have to work along the rock face to the ledge just over her head and get her up on to that. The rope he had in the boat would be long enough. It would mean staying there all night, because by the time they were through it would be too dark to get back along the cliff. It was going to be a tricky business anyhow.

As soon as he got near enough he called out to her.

‘Hi! You there on the cliff! What sort of hold have you got?’

The answer came back faintly and in one word.

‘Fair!’

‘Can – you – hold – on – for – say – forty – minutes?’

Even as he said it, he knew she couldn’t.

He got back two words.

‘I’ll – try.’

It wasn’t good enough. He would have to make it single-handed. He called again.

‘I’ll – get – to – you – before – that! About – a – quarter – of – an – hour! I’ll – be – seeing – you! Hold – on!’

It was much easier to hold on now that she knew help was coming. The nasty whispering voice went away and she began to make pictures in her mind. Not the horrid sort which showed you all the things you were shutting your eyes against – a dead drop down to the beach and wet black rocks with points as sharp as needles. Not that kind at all, but the romantic sort out of the old long-ago tales – Andromeda chained to a cliff in Greece with the monster coming in out of a blue sea, and Perseus flashing down with wings on his feet to turn the looming horror into stone.