"Will she?" thought Mark, but he felt directly after that he had made a slip, for he could see no way of carrying out the plans they had hatched below, and a miserable feeling of despondency came over him. For he knew that if he stirred and made the slightest noise, he must be heard by the man posted to guard against attack. To get on deck was next to impossible, and even if he did he would not be able to make the line fast unless--Mark shuddered and set aside the horrible thought, which was in full--unless he used his dirk. In open fight it would have been terrible enough, but then it would have been in self-defence, and for the sake of the poor enslaved creatures they were trying to save; but to wait there for an opportunity to strike would be like playing the assassin, and he felt that he would rather jump back into the sea and risk the sharks. It was hard work hanging there. His arms and wrists ached, his legs felt cramped, and a peculiar tingling numbness began to assail him, as more and more he was forced to the conclusion that there was only one way out of the difficulty, and that was to descend--if he could, for he knew that this would be as difficult a task again. There was a slight rustling, and raising his head once more very slowly, he looked over to dimly make out the figure of the man who was on guard leaning over the same part of the stern as before, and smoking, a faint glow arising from his pipe at every puff. "It's all over," thought Mark. "I shall have to drop into the water and let them haul me in. I can't get down. If I move, he'll come and break my head or smash my fingers." In this spirit he turned his head a little to try and look downward, but it was too dark to see anything, and if it had been otherwise, he could at the most have seen his shoulder, in the cramped attitude he occupied. He had some idea of signalling by tugging at the cord, but he found that he could not get at it without loosening one hand, which was not to be thought of; besides, if he had tugged, in all probability Tom Fillot would have believed that it was the signal that the cord was made fast, tighten it, and drag him off. So at last he said to himself, "Now for it," and prepared to drop. But he hesitated. Who would not under the circumstances? It was not many feet down, but the water was black, and there was the thought of the sharks.