Then it seemed to him that the rough out jutting fragments below would
afford a holding, and he swung his feet cautiously down and felt round
for foothold.
Carefully testing everything he touched, he let himself down, inch by
inch, assured that if he could go down he could certainly get up again.
At first the gale still whistled through the crevices among the
boulders, but presently he found himself in a silence that was so mighty
a change from the ceaseless roar to which he was becoming accustomed,
that he felt as though stricken with deafness. Up above him the light
filtered down, tempered by the slab under which he had come, and enabled
him still to find precarious hand and foot hold.
But presently his downward progress was barred by a rough flooring of
splintered fragments, and he stood panting and looked about him.
His well was about twenty feet deep, he reckoned, and there were gaping
slits here and there which might lead in towards the rock or out towards
the sea. He had turned and twisted so much in his descent that it took
him some time to decide in which direction the sea might lie and in
which the rock.
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