She could think of no better argument.  Her only resource was a woman’s expedient—­a plea for protection against threatening ills.

The sailor seemed to be puzzled how best to act.

“Miss Deane,” he said, “there is no such serious danger as you imagine.  Last time the cuttle caught me napping.  He will not do so again.  Those rifles I must have.  If it will serve to reassure you, I will go along the line myself.”

He made this concession grudgingly.  In very truth, if danger still lurked in the neighboring sea, he would be far less able to avoid it whilst clinging to a rope that sagged with his weight, and thus working a slow progress across the channel, than if he were on his feet and prepared to make a rush backwards or forwards.

Not until Iris watched him swinging along with vigorous overhead clutches did this phase of the undertaking occur to her.

“Stop!” she screamed.

He let go and dropped into the water, turning towards her.

“What is the matter now?” he said.

“Go on; do!”

He stood meekly on the further side to listen to her rating.

“You knew all the time that it would be better to walk, yet to please me you adopted an absurdly difficult method.  Why did you do it?”

“You have answered your own question.”

“Well, I am very, very angry with you.”

“I’ll tell you what,” he said, “if you will forgive me I will try and jump back.  I once did nineteen feet three inches in—­er—­in a meadow, but it makes such a difference when you look at a stretch of water the same width.”

“I wish you would not stand there talking nonsense.  The tide will be over the reef in half an hour,” she cried.

Without another word he commenced operations.  There was plenty of rope, and the plan he adopted was simplicity itself.  When each package was securely fastened he attached it to a loop that passed over the line stretched from the tree to the crowbar.  To this loop he tied the lightest rope he could find and threw the other end to Iris.  By pulling slightly she was able to land at her feet even the cumbrous rifle-chest, for the traveling angle was so acute that the heavier the article the more readily it sought the lower level.

They toiled in silence until Jenks could lay hands on nothing more of value.  Then, observing due care, he quickly passed the channel.  For an instant the girl gazed affrightedly at the sea until the sailor stood at her side again.

“You see,” he said, “you have scared every cuttle within miles.”  And he thought that he would give many years of his life to be able to take her in his arms and kiss away her anxiety.

But the tide had turned; in a few minutes the reef would be partly submerged.  To carry the case of rifles to the mainland was a manifestly impossible feat, so Jenks now did that which, done earlier, would have saved him some labor—­he broke open the chest, and found that the weapons were apparently in excellent order.