Before the words were out of her mouth, the light keeper appeared at her side, a thick coil of rope slung over his shoulder, his manner so commanding that everyone backed away to give him room.
“Help! I can’t hold on!” Benjamin yelled.
Caleb grabbed the rope from Mr. Taylor’s hands and began tying it around his waist.
Rachel gasped. “Caleb! No!”
“It’s my fault he fell,” her brother mumbled. “It’s my place to get him.”
Stuart watched as the boy fumbled with the thick rope at his waist. It was a poor attempt at a knot and one he knew from experience would prove unsafe. Stuart could handle the rope and the climb. He’d climbed among the rigging of schooners being tossed and pitched about by the sea for years. He snapped the rope from the boy’s hand. “Step back.”
Tying an efficient knot at his own waist, he looked directly at Miss Houston. “Keep Hannah from the edge.”
At her wide-eyed nod, he handed the other end of the rope to Terrance Morley, wondering for a moment if he could trust him. But then another man, and then another gripped the rope, their faces set with determination.
Stuart lay down on his abdomen and lowered himself over the cliff’s edge. His last look at the handful of onlookers centered on one person—Rachel. Her eyes had clouded with worry. Likely for the boy; surely not for him.
“Don’t look up,” he yelled down to the boy below. “The loose sand will get into your eyes. And don’t move. Let me take hold of you.”
Pebbles and loose dirt shot out from beneath his boots as he scrambled down the steep wall of sandstone. All at once his feet met air rather than the cliff and he swung around, smashing his shoulder against the gritty wall. Finally he slid even with the boy.
“Just a minute more and I’ll have you. Don’t let go yet.”
The boy gasped as he struggled to hold on while Stuart wrapped the extra length of rope tightly around the boy’s waist and tied a lighterman’s hitch. To his credit, the boy remained still as instructed rather than panicking and grabbing hold of Stuart too soon.
“What’s your name?” Stuart asked gently.
“B-Benjamin.”
The boy couldn’t be much older than Hannah.
“Onto my shoulders now,” Stuart commanded. “Slide over to my back.”
“I can’t.”
His plaintive voice tugged at Stuart’s heart. “Sure you can.”
“I’m scared.”
“The rope will hold you.”
“My hands—they’re s-stuck.”
Stuart glanced at Benjamin’s white-knuckled grip on the ledge and a small tuft of weeds. How had the boy managed to hang on this long?
“Okay. Just do the best you can. I won’t let you fall.”
Benjamin’s eyes filled with unshed tears. Stuart could almost see the boy’s mind working, trying to bolster his courage.
“I’ll count to three and you grab my neck.”
A small nod.
“One…two…three!”
Stuart leaned toward the boy, snaking his arm around Benjamin’s waist and hauling him close. He struggled to keep his grip on the rope while the boy locked his legs around Stuart’s hips. Frantically, Benjamin grabbed Stuart’s shirt then scrambled up and wrapped his arms around Stuart’s neck. He could feel the thudding of the boy’s heart against his back.
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good job. You ready now?” He felt Benjamin’s nod rub against his back. Looking up, he yelled, “Haul us up!”
The men pulled on the rope, a rhythm building as they heaved against the weight. Stuart braced his feet against the cliff to steady the swinging. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Above, Stuart could see the first man’s arm muscles bulging with the effort to draw him up.
Finally he and the boy came flush with the ground at the top of the cliff. Strong hands reached out to grip Benjamin and pull him from Stuart’s neck. More men reached down to help Stuart over the edge. He crawled a few feet then sprawled onto his back and gasped for air.
People crowded around congratulating the men who’d held the rope. A few nodded to him by way of thanks, but most seemed a little unsure what to make of him. He rose slowly to his feet.
An elderly couple stopped before him. The old woman dabbed tears from her eyes while she thanked him profusely for saving her grandson.
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