Roland mentally measured the ship from side to side against the width of the chasm. It would be a close call, whether the ship would plummet quickly into the gap, scrape slowly down the sides, or wedge itself and stay relatively stable.
"There's only one ship." He murmured in realization. "Uncle… there's only one ship over there. The other one of Edmar's…"
"ABANDON SHIP! Get to land!" Haf was already ordering the crew to flee the vessel. The shift in weight as the men surged to the bow further destabilized the ship.
What had been a shifting so subtle that Roland hadn't immediately noticed its motion now became a more pronounced slide. The ship was scraping against both shore and edge of the waterfall, slowing its progression a little, but not nearly enough for comfort.
Haf stayed in place as the crew made their way to the bow to climb off on the ropes, scrambling onto the sandy shore.
Jimmy was one of the first off the boat, showing impressive speed and agility with his pack in tow.
"Go," Haf urged his nephew. "The leader is always the last one off a sinking vessel."
"It's not sinking, it's falling!" Roland shot back. "Let's go!"
The Commodore considered the statement for a few seconds, and then nodded. The two made their way to the bow. Those on shore were now holding several ropes taut, both to hold the ship in place as long as they could, and to provide the crew on board the chance to scramble off, climbing along the large cords.
The evacuation was more orderly than Roland thought it might be; panic often drove men mad. However, those nearest to the front waited patiently, helping as they could, and those whose turn had not come were hastily throwing crates of food and supplies onto the shore, away from where the men were setting down.
Roland's anxiety rose the more the ship moved. As it was slowly being lightened, it seemed less apt to keep its position on the precipice of the untold depths.
The ship was slowly presenting its starboard side to the land, and the evacuation increased in intensity as all realized time was quickly running out.
More were present on land, holding the thick ropes and pulling as tightly as they could.
Roland realized he had not undergone any sort of rope-climbing training during his military service to Klain, nor in his time with his father in Rhone, and felt ill equipped to undertake his first attempt here, where the consequences for failure were so dire.
The number of crewmen still on board dwindled, with the navigator next to Roland stuffing his maps and instruments into a bag to be slung over his shoulder before he rapidly descended the rope.
The Rhone prince watched the way he passed along the cord, like an inchworm in reverse, lowering his legs and then his hands rapidly in succession. That seemed doable.
Roland's turn came just as a sudden lurch indicated the ship was becoming less stable by the second. He and Haf were among the last few aboard, and each of them lunged forward for a different rope to shimmy down to safety.
The Commodore shot him a look of concern which Roland met with a nod that conveyed much more confidence than he actually felt. Satisfied, Haf traversed his rope much more quickly than Roland would have thought possible for a man that age.
The others were doing the same, and Roland scrambled to catch up without sacrificing the surety of his grip. Wrapping his legs tightly around the rope, he began scooting along it at the quickest pace he was comfortable with.
The ship lurched again, causing the ropes to slacken, and Roland froze for a split second in indecision. He chanced a look down.
That was a mistake.
He was dangling directly over the fathomless depths. If he fell now, there would be no possible hope of survival. His stomach clenched and his heart thundered in his ears.
The rope became taut again as the seamen pulled it as tightly as they could, and Roland hastened toward them. The ship was teetering on the edge of the waterfall, tilting towards the gap. The bow had come away from the sandy shore, leaving the men in limbo between sea and safety.
He wasn't going to make it all the way down, but if he could at least get himself over the land, he could let go and fall on what was hopefully soft sand.
He might be injured, but that was better than falling endlessly to his death.
The ship swayed and tilted onto its port side, pulling the rope tighter and dragging the sailors towards the edge, and Roland further from shore than he had been a moment ago.
He darted another glance below him. The keel was facing the land now, and underneath him as the ship slid slowly off the edge of the waterfall's shelf. Would it be enough to wedge the ship in the gap instead of the entire structure plummeting freely through the chasm?
The rope he held dropped and slackened along with the ship's descent, and he fell below the level of the land's edge.
"CUT THE ROPE, ROLAND!" He heard Haf yell from above.
Catching on quickly, he shifted his weight so that his head was towards the land instead of his feet. The ship lurched, and a mighty scraping sound met his ears as the keel crashed and dragged against the cliff.
It was a relief, for a moment, to have wood below him instead of nothingness, but as the creaking and cracking of the ship breaking apart rent the air, he knew the danger was far from past. The masts would break any moment, ending the leverage the ship had to stay in place.
He used one hand to draw the dagger that all sailors keep on their sides to cut nets or ropes that get caught on things they shouldn't, and leaned below his feet to begin sawing at the thick cord.
Roland was not particularly practiced at this, and struggled against time as the ship broke lower and lower. At any moment, the men above him might release the rope for fear of being dragged down with the ship's final fall.
Another lurch, and he was pulled even lower. He sawed frantically, wishing that the blade were sharper or the rope weaker.
But not too much weaker.
He still needed it to let him climb to safety.
With a final cut, he was free from the ship.
Unfortunately, that meant there was no longer tension to hold him aloft. He swung toward the bottom of the cliff as she ship gave a final crack, the keel snapped, and the vessel broke loose to plunge into the darkness below.
Roland's shoulder crashed, hard, into the cliff face at its bottom edge, and then he slid lower on the rope, almost to its very end. He closed his eyes, hoping not to be hit by splinters as the main mast slammed against the shore and shattered above him.
He now hung below the bottom of the cliff. He dropped the knife and clung to the rope with both hands, clenching every muscle in an effort to avoid falling.
Thankfully, the Cetoans holding on to the other side of the rope held firm instead of letting him drop.
He hung, suspended in the air, eerily aware of how vast and strange a place he now occupied. He shuddered and looked down.
A moment in time froze as he watched the ship fall seemingly endlessly, and then crash into purplish water so far below that it was almost impossible to see, except that Roland was now shrouded in such darkness that his eyes were beginning to adjust.
The cavern must be vast indeed. He glanced around briefly, seeing lights like green glow worms hanging from the roof of the chasm. A shaft of light that must be at least a half a mile or more away showed vines and plants hanging down into the eerie place.
The rope began to haul Roland upward, removing him from the view of the strange, enormous place underground. It looked as if this entire world was hollow inside.
Once he reached the base of the cliff, he used his feet to push against it and walk upward to help the pullers get him to the surface faster. It seemed interminable, despite the fact that it went fairly quickly.
He remembered the last time he hung so precariously from a rope, holding his unconscious wife as a wave crashed beneath them. He shuddered at the memory of not knowing whether she was dead or alive.
Gwen, please keep her safe, he thought firmly. His lips twitched slightly at the irony of being so worried about her when he was the one that precariously hovered above certain doom.
The sunlight reached him and he felt an amount of comfort, though full relief would not come until he was on the ground again.
"HEAVE, MEN!" Haf was grunting from above.
Roland finally reached the surface and was dragged up onto the sand and away from the edge by several hands.
"Uncle. I'm glad you made it," He huffed, out of breath.
"I'm relieved you took my advice and cut the rope, although we need to practice your climbing skills," Haf responded with a half-smile.