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She bent low over the tiles, so that her face was very close to his as he found his footing and stood there. "Good-by, white man," she whispered. "Good-by!" he whispered back, as he worked his way cautiously and ponderously along that perilous slope. She leaned there, watching him as he gained the ladder-end. He did not look back as he lowered himself, rung by rung.
He had more than half circled the ship before he came to her landing-ladder. The grilled platform at the bottom of this row of steps stood nearly as high as his shoulders, as though the ladder-end had been hauled up for the night. Blake balanced himself on the bow of his surf-boat and tugged and strained until he gained the ladder-bottom.
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