Red In The Morning (15 page)

Any moment now, the rope which I was holding must come to an end; and then, though the cavern was mine, with nothing to hold to, how could I reach my pool? And if I did reach my pool, would my cord be there? Mansel might very well have withdrawn it, before leaving the head of the chasm and seeking the upper air. And if my cord was still there, should I have the strength to climb it…up the slide into the chasm…and then up ninety feet – ninety feet without foothold, fit work for an ape? And if I could do these things, should I be in time?

Such a burden was sore enough, but Irony made matters worse.

In the hope of saving my life, the others were bent upon forcing the jaws of Death, when, if only they turned to the cavern, they would risk nothing at all and Mona and I should be saved.

I could have cried aloud for the pain of the iron in my soul.

At last I felt that I must have a moment’s rest. So I turned my side to the stream and lay back against the rock.

“Lift me a little,” said Mona, “and I can sit on the edge.”

“Only for a moment,” said I. “We’ve got to get on.”

And then her weight was gone, and I could straighten my back.

“Throw the beam round,” I said.

It was as she swept the beam up that I saw my cord lying just as I had left it…with its end running into my pool, three paces away.

So far I have said nothing about the cold: but I make no shame to confess that, while I was still in the storeroom, I had been heartily frightened of courting again that evil which had nearly cost me my life the morning before. Whilst we had been in the kitchen, when I was placing the bar, all the way down the water, I strove to fight off all thought of this deadly foe, for if that stepped into the arena, then Mona and I were doomed. But now, when I left the water and had my own rope in my hand I realized with a shock that the awful chill of the place was already at work.

My rest had done little for me: my members were cold and clumsy: all effort seemed hard to make
. And we had the water-slide coming and the chasm – ninety feet deep
.

I sometimes wonder why I did not despair: but God, they say, tempers the wind to the shorn lamb. Be that as it may, I made up my mind to this – that it was the air of the cavern that was stealing away my strength and that if I could gain the chasm, before I was too far gone, the air from above would revive me and all my strength would come back.

If this were so, there was not a moment to lose.

I put my arm about Mona, sitting on the slope beside me, with the cord – my cord – in her hand and the lighted torch in her lap.

“Come, my lady,” I said. “We’re halfway home.”

She looked up at me and nodded: but when she endeavoured to rise, her legs gave way.

“Sorry,” she said, “I’m done. And I can’t hold the torch, Richard. My fingers won’t work.”

There was no time for explanation.

I stuffed the torch into my pocket and fastened the rope about her under her arms.

“Listen, Mona,” I said. “You must try and fight off this weakness as best you can. I’m going to pull you up, for it’s all straight sailing now and I know the way.”

“I think…you’d better leave me. Better that one should get out than that–”

I laid my cheek against hers and held her close.

“We’ve much in common,” I said. “I don’t do things by halves.”

Then I laid hold of my cord, surveyed my way for a moment, put away the torch and began to climb.

Although my strength was failing, I reached the waterslide with something to spare and, aware how futile it was to take any rest, I started to draw up Mona without delay.

I fear that she had a rough passage, but at least there was no obstruction upon that slope; and it cost me less to drag her those thirty paces than it had cost me to cover the ground myself.

I lodged her against a stalagmite, standing on the brink of the slide: then I lighted the torch and took her hand in mine.

“One more ordeal, great heart, and then you can take your rest. We’ve got to go up some water, instead of down. Only a little way, and I’ll be as quick as I can.” I threw the beam on the slide. “That’s the water beside you. When you feel me take the strain, you must take a very deep breath and let yourself go. You may go under water, but have no fear. Try and float on your back: but if you can’t, don’t worry, because we’re going to be saved.”

“Oh, Richard, 1 can’t believe it.”

“Try to believe it,” I said. “It’s perfectly true.”

Then I left her lodged on its brink and went up the waterslide.

How long this passage took me, I cannot tell. Perhaps it took me three minutes. But it was the only period of that exacting time when I forgot Mona and Mansel and Gedge and all his works; when I forgot Arx and the cavern – and Jenny, asleep at Maintenance, all the sweet of the fairytales snared in her lovely face: when I forgot past and future, because I was ruled by the instinct to try and save my life.

And then I was out…in the chasm…scarce able to hold myself up…

I took a turn on the rope and leaned back against the wall. Rest I must now, whether or no. If this air was not to revive me, then Mona and I were done. If my strength was not to return, then she must die in the cavern and I where I was. I had reached the end of my tether. Unless I could be restored, I could not go on.

But the vain thing which I had imagined proved to be true. Drawing deep breaths of air, I felt refreshed. After a little, I knew that in two or three minutes I should have strength enough to haul my companion up.

Whilst I was waiting, I drew my torch and looked round. At once I saw a ledge, some three or four paces away. This would accept Mona. Here she could lie, while I climbed – for both our lives. And something else I saw – that I had not noticed when I was there before. Just beyond the shelf, the chasm shrank to a cleft. In other words, the chasm was roughly wedge-shaped. My cord was hanging over the base of the wedge: but the thin end was much more narrow – say, three feet wide: and the sides were rough and broken – handhold and foothold were there. At this my heart leaped up, for to climb a ninety-foot rope is a fearful thing. (Of course I could never have done it. My weight was too great. Perhaps some gymnast could have: though, had he been spent as I was, it would have cost him dear.) But if I could climb up the chasm, using my rope to help me…

This discovery helped to revive me – of that there can be no doubt: for I forgot my condition, to remember – almost with a shock – that I was up against time…that I had to get to the quarry, before the second curtain was raised.

It cost me little enough to draw the girl up the slide and get her on to the ledge: but that she was greatly exhausted was very clear. Mercifully, she was not senseless, as I had been; but the atmosphere of the cavern had stolen into her system and robbed it of all but life.

Something had to be done if she was to live.

I pulled her housecoat open and tore it away: then I ripped her slip from her chest; for her to be naked was better than for her to be swaddled in clothes which were full of the coldest water that ever I knew.

“Draw in this good air,” I cried: “and chafe your body and limbs as soon as ever you can. You must make the effort, Mona: we’re very near out of the wood.”

She obeyed at once, beginning to draw deep breaths.

“I’m going on,” I continued. “It’s not very far. I’ll take the strain as before, and by then you must be ready to – to bear a hand.” She looked at me wanly enough and I patted her cheek. “You must, Mona, you must. You see, when we get up this chasm, we’ll still be ten feet down and unless you can stand on my shoulders, we shan’t get out.”

As I spoke, my words shocked me. In my search for a saying to spur her, I had stumbled upon the truth.

Here she lifted an arm, and the beam of the torch illumined the dial of the watch on her wrist.

Fourteen minutes past twelve. Less than a quarter of an hour since she had entered the storeroom, to set me free. The thing was absurd, of course. The watch had stopped – fallen foul of the water, as we were coming down. But, in fact, it had not stopped. As I was staring upon it, its minute hand was approaching a quarter-past twelve.

(And there was the reason why I had not succumbed to the chill which had cost me so dear the morning before. Though, upon this occasion, my efforts had been much greater, I had spent in the cavern no more than eight or ten minutes, instead of near half an hour.)

It took me twenty-five minutes to climb that cleft. Had I not been desperate, I do not believe I could have done it and I doubt very much if I could do it again. I realized at once that my cord would give me no help. This was natural enough, for the cord, of course, wished to hang plumb, and, when I put weight upon it, it did its best to draw me out of the cleft, into the breadth of the chasm beneath where our timber lay. Indeed, so far from helping, it hindered me. That I should keep it was vital, because, to reach the grotto, the time would come when I had to leave the cleft: and when once I had nearly lost it, I managed to pull up some slack and loop it about my neck.

But it was the darkness that slowed me down.

Each time, before I moved, I had to draw my torch and survey the cleft, observing and carefully marking holds for my hands and feet. And then I would put up my torch and grope for the projection or crevice which I had seen. And three times I was so placed that I could not draw my torch, but had to go on blindly and hope and pray for handhold of any kind.

Still, in the end, I reached the top of the cleft. And, when I put up my hand, I found it had a ceiling of soil.

So far as I could judge, this meant I was twelve feet down; for it will be remembered that at the head of the chasm, its sides were of earth. Indeed, it was clear that I must be beneath the ‘chamber’, in which Mansel and Bagot and I had stood the morning before. But the opening through which I had been lowered lay several feet to my right.

To gain this, I had my cord. But when I saw how I must use it, I felt very sick.

A gymnast would have made nothing of it. But I was not a gymnast. More. I was heavy and tired, my hands were torn and bleeding and I must move in the dark.

I think it will be clear that I had to hold fast to my cord and swing out over the depths; and then, when the cord hung plumb, to climb it up to the timber some twelve feet above.

I suddenly realized that I was streaming with sweat…

Now I have found that when you are bound to take some desperate step, it is best to take it as quickly as ever you can. The longer you contemplate it, the more sinister it appears, until the requisite effort seems wholly beyond your power.

I, therefore, rubbed the palms of my hands on the earth above my head, laid hold of my cord and cautiously let myself go.

I had had the sense to put out my feet before me, to take the shock when I met the opposing wall: this was as well, for they met it heavily, but I was not much shaken, because I bent my knees, as a man coming down from some jump.

I was something encouraged to find that the wall was of earth: for this meant that I was, indeed, but a few feet down: but, before the cord had stopped swinging, I started to climb, for this was already beginning to cut my broken hands.

Looking back, I know very well that, had I now to choose between once again climbing the cleft and covering those few feet of cord in mid-air, I would sooner climb the cleft, be it twice as high.

I was very nearly spent: I had to depend entirely upon my hands: an agony of mind as of body prejudiced every hoist. How far I could go, I knew not; but I knew that I could not go far. There is a limit of endurance which no man born of woman can ever pass.

And then my hand touched the timber…

For an instant I fumbled frantically. Then I had a hand on a joist. One desperate heave, and the joist was in my armpit. And there I hung for a moment, not knowing how to go on. Then I found the other joist with my other hand, and, after a fearful struggle, I was lying on my face in the grotto, ten feet from the open air.

I rested for perhaps three minutes. Then I put on a pair of the gloves which I knew would be there and without any more ado I pulled Mona up. This was child’s play to what I had done before; but all the time I was hauling, I was praying that she would be fit to play her part: for without her help I could not reach the hole which gave to the mountainside. But if she was fit, I could put her upon my shoulders, and if she could make the effort, she could get out. And then she could make fast the rope, and I could follow her up. But if she was not able to do these things…

To my immense relief, she had her senses about her and was just able to stand.

I put my arm about her and pointed up.

“See, Mona, there is the moonlight. We’re back in the world.”

Tears began to course down her face.

“Out of the valley of shadow. Oh, Richard, I can’t believe it. Death’s been so terribly close.”

“I know, my dear, I know. But we’ve spoiled his game. And now I must save the others. Listen to me.”

By my direction, she mounted upon my shoulders and put her hands on the rim of the hole above. Then I seized her ankles and thrust her up. And then she was on her knees and clear of the hole.

As I bade her do, she took the cord from her body and made it fast at once to the nearest tree. And then I followed her up and into the open air.

After a hasty discussion, with her consent I put her back into the grotto, there to await my return, because I was so much afraid that the night air might do her ill; for there was not so much as a sack to wrap her in. But the grotto was warm. And then I set off down the mountain as fast as ever I could.

I did not make directly for the quarry, because, for all the moonlight, I feared I might miss the place. I headed, instead for the road, which I could not miss. This at breakneck speed, for, now I was ‘in the straight’, I had nothing to lose. And at last I saw the meadows below me and, between them and me, a black sash.

I gained the road and started to run…

After what seemed an age, I rounded a bend, to see the mouth of the quarry some fifty paces ahead.