One arm was still through the chain, the other gripped what some illuminating instinct had already convinced him was the chart! As soon as he had recovered his breath, a grim effort of humour parted his lips.

He lay there for a moment and laughed till the spray, this time with a rush of green water underneath, very nearly swept him from his place.
They were waving a lantern on the beach when he struggled again to his feet.
He slipped the little packet down his clothes next to his skin, and groped about to find the end of the line which Sir Henry and he had fastened to a staple below the chains.

Then he drew a long breath, gripped the rope and shouted.

A second or two later he was back in the cauldron.
As they pulled him on to the beach, he had but one idea.

Whatever happened, he must not lose consciousness.