Read The Poseidon Adventure Online
Authors: Paul Gallico
'This is a bright boy,' Scott replied. 'He was smart enough to join up with us. You watch, he'll get it when I demonstrate. Miss Kinsale and Martin, you're first. Hi, Kemal, you look. You see!'
Laying out the two coils of line retrieved from the Fire Station, Scott tied one end of one of them about his own waist, looped it slantwise across the upper part of Miss Kinsale's body, fastening it with a curious knot and running the second line through it.
'The body rope will hold you secure, and the guide-rope you can use to help pull yourself up. Do you see how it works? Here, Kemal, how about you?'
The Turk grinned and said, 'Hokay, hokay!'
Muller asked, 'Why have you got the Rosens in the middle? I should have thought that . . .'
Scott replied, 'It figures, doesn't it? The most difficult part of the climb is the middle. By the time the Rosens reach there, I'll be on top. The guide-rope will be secured and I'll be able to give them a lift with the body rope. That's when they'11 need it.'
He had made it sound so easy, every step thought out, every precaution taken. And curiously the manner in which he had put the challenge to them as an act of worship had stimulated them all, even the non-religious or the doubters, such as Muller and Martin, who sold themselves on the idea that to bring off such a climb was near enough miraculous that it must be somehow rewarded. They were eager to begin.
'Let's go!' cried Scott, 'Let's show Him what we're made of!'
Shelby thought again of that half hysterical assistant coach giving him a wallop on his backside and saying, 'Go out there and show those bastards what Michigan men are made of.'
But Scott had one final caution. He said, 'We'll make it if you remember one thing. Don't vary in a single instance from what the person above you does. I will have tested out every foothold, handhold, loophold. That will be the only way to go. Also don't ever look down. Only up to what the person above you is doing, or has done. Don't talk. Save your breath. From time to time I'll call a rest. Stay where you are then, loop your slack, use it as a bight or hitch when you need to, put your weight on your rope and work and relax your fingers. When you're breathing normally, we'll continue. Everyone got shoes or slippers on? Rogo, see that the guide-line pays out properly. Okay! We're off!'
He made his way carefully up the gradual slope of tumbled debris collected by the edge of the lake, the foothills leading to the first, almost vertical rise upwards.
With curious delicacy, Miss Kinsale picked her way after him, her head down in concentration to see that she trod where he had, her long dark hair falling down on either side of her face. Muller thought how closely Scott had hit it with his description of the game -- girl following boy carefully over the sharp shale of some holiday beach in carefully stylized pursuit.
'All right, Miss Kinsale?'
'Quite, Dr Scott.'
'The climb really begins now. Watch what I do and where I go.'
The body line went taut between her and Martin, who moved off behind her, followed by Nonnie and Muller.
With the smaller flashlights still tied to their forearms, it left their hands free with adequate lighting directed at the gripping point, with major illumination provided by the larger lanterns.
While Scott's practised climber's eye had mapped out a possible pathway, shadows and the impossibility of seeing all sides involved some guesswork and made improvisaton necessary. Yet once started with these soft and tired people behind him, relying upon his confidence, there was to be no turning back. Now with the main climb at hand, he reached up, looped the guide-rope over a piece of broken handrail, and secured his first foothold.
Miss Kinsale asked, 'Do I do anything about that guide-rope?'
'No, but use it to help you. I'll be constantly taking it higher, but it will always be anchored for your next step. Are you frightened?'
'No, not with you.'
'Good. See that the arch of your foot rests on any projection, if it's narrow. Then you'll be less likely to slip.' Scott went on again, finding a handhold on the tubular crosspiece of a railing that had been carried away and a secure footing on the inner surface of a ripped pipe. He called down, 'Martin, are you following?'
'Yup!'
'We're in luck. I've found a piece of ladder turned the right way around. Five steps like going upstairs and there's a piece of the platform at the top where we'll have our first rest.'
The Shelbys were now beginning to climb. The only difficulty they found in following Scott's instructions was the slipperiness of every piece of metal due to the oil. But Scott was proceeding so slowly and meticulously that there was time to secure a firm grip.
Shelby, looking down, saw Kemal and the Rosens crossing the initial slope. He called back to Belle, 'it's a breeze! Kemal's there to give you a hand-up. Scott's taking it very easy.'
They did not reply. Shelby turned back to concentrate on the next step upwards. He was filled with admiration for Scott's organization and forethought. Kemal had understood why and where he had been put in the order, for after each movement he turned around to make sure that Belle was following in the right place and reaching down with his huge hand, helped to pull her aloft.
Overhead, Scott had come up against his first real obstacle. It was a solid wall of metal some six feet in height, barring the way and extending across and out over the edge of the lake below. Some earlier damage from the fall had cut a 'V' into it at that point, with the outer part forming a five-foot, needle sharp spearhead pointing upwards. Directly above his head, a stanchion, some severed pipes and a downward curved piece of steel effectively blocked the path. Had Scott been alone, he would have slung a rope over one of these and been over the hurdle in a few minutes. With the others it would be impossible.
The menacing spearpoint cut off access from the right. There was no shifting the piece overhead.
He called Out, 'Rest where you are,' and then studied the problem from the left side, where two lubricating pumps had ended their collapse, spilling their contents.
Miss Kinsale looked up and inquired, 'Are you in trouble, Dr Scott?'
'For the moment.'
'Surely, if you ask for the help of our Heavenly Father . . .'
Scott replied curtly, 'That would be an impertinence. This is a mountaineering job. There's always a way.' He had seen it already. One partially risky foothold on a foot-wide strip of metal, fortunately inclined at an angle slightly upwards, around the obstacle, and the broken pumps then turned themselves from there into a kind of vertical circular staircase from which a piece of broad undamaged platform could be gained. All that was necessary was for each person after having negotiated the narrow turn about the edge of the wall to pause and give his or her follower a steadying hand.
Scott smiled with satisfaction. He wanted to get on. The ugly, menacing, triangular spear had now become an arrow pointing upwards and onwards.
He said, 'I've got it.' He worked his way around the narrow ledge, flipped the loop of the guide-rope over the next overhead projection and said, 'Give me your hand, Miss Kinsale, until you are around this corner. Then wait and do likewise for Martin and tell him to pass along the same instructions to the others. The next section will be a piece of cake.'
'I prayed,' said Miss Kinsale.
Scott did not reply, but steadied her around the corner. While she waited for Martin, he had started up the next part of the climb.
Scott suddenly cried, 'Hold it for a moment! Don't come any farther.'
They waited. To Miss Kinsale just below him it seemed that he was struggling with something, which finally came loose, and a moment later from the lake below they heard a splash. Shelby asked, 'What was that?'
Scott replied, 'Nothing.'
But Rogo's body was momentarily turned, and the big lantern strapped to his back had picked up the object for an instant. It was part of a severed leg wearing a rubber boot. For a moment he felt sickened and no fonder of Scott. He thought:
What the hell is that guy made of?
The line lengthened. Belle and Manny Rosen were already at the beginning of the vertical ascent, shepherded by Kemal; Nonnie and Muller on the slope. Only Linda and Rogo were still on the flat, awaiting their turn.
Linda said, 'Why did you let him make us suck hind tit again? If anything gets screwed up, we'll get it, or somebody falls down on top of us.'
Rogo replied, 'It's psychology.'
'Psychology, my ass!' said Linda. 'You let that randy bastard buffalo you. Fine thing not standing up for your wife when a man tries to make her right under your nose.'
'Yeah, sure,' said Rogo in his flat monotone voice, 'That's right. He gives you a feel and then yells for help. Don't give me that. What have you got in there, a set of teeth?'
'You bastard!'
Rogo said, 'I thought you had more sense than to go for a panzola. I've got Mr preacher Scott's number now. He's queer as a coot.'
' Him?' The accusation actually outraged her sensibilities.
'Yeah, him! This guy can't go for dames so he makes with the turn-around collar. And he sure slapped you down.'
The line about Linda's waist tautened and there was a pull on the slack in her hand. 'Get going,' Rogo ordered, 'and for Christ's sweet sake, don't try any funny business, but do like he said and let's git ahda here. You got Muller ahead of you. He's no bargain, but at least he's all there. I heard him laying that kid. I'm behind you and won't let nothing happen to you, honeybun. Just take it easy.'
They started on their way up.
'You making it okay, Belle?' Manny called. The yellow light of his flashlamp was trained on her white bottom that glistened with sweat and oil.
She replied, 'It's my breath. Every time I go up a step I can't get my breath.'
'But you're not frightened, Mamma?'
'No, I ain't frightened. I only looked down once and then I couldn't see nothing. This Turkish feller is a nice man. He helps me. How much farther is it?'
'I dunno. Not much, maybe. We just keep on going like we are 'til we're there. You're doing great.'
'Manny, if we ever get out of this, you won't get me farther than the corner of Amsterdam Avenue and 89th Street from our apartment.'
'That's right, Mamma. Think about our apartment, what a fine place we got.'
She couldn't resist it, 'With Sol with his feet up on our best chair and Sylvia sticking her nose into my closet to see what new clothes I got, if any. Okay, okay, Mr Kemal, I'm coming.'
Muller was waiting for Linda at the narrow ledge turning about the steel wall. He held out his hand to her. She took it and said, 'Oh, Mr Muller, hold me. I'm so frightened.'
'Here, take my arm.'
When she had it, the signal he received was unmistakable. Muller was an expert at overt pressures. He thought to himself:
The bitch! Poor Rogo.
The party toiled upwards. Linda said to Rogo, 'Why do we have to go like this? I can see a better way over there, look!'
Rogo held her back, tightening his grip on the rope so that she could not try. 'For Jesus' sake, baby, don't try any funny business. The guy's got it figured out. It's working. Don't forget I'm at the other end of this rope.'
'Like always,' Linda said, 'low man on the totem pole.'
They reached the portion of the platform half-way to the top that Scott had spotted. He and the others were waiting there. There was just room enough for them.
Scott said, 'Sit if you can, and lights out. We'll rest here for a few minutes.'
CHAPTER XVIII
And Then There Were Twelve
Out of the darkness came Belle Rosen's voice, 'What are we doing here?'
No one replied; no one knew whether the question meant the return of her sense of humour, or was drawn out of despair. But she repeated it, 'I mean it. What are we all doing here? How can this happen today? A couple hours ago we are sitting down to supper and maybe afterwards looking at the show, or playing some cards, and now here we are practically naked with no clothes on, climbing up like monkeys so we shouldn't get killed.'
Richard Shelby said, 'You've got something there, Mrs Rosen.'
It was strange that all through this adventure which should have knitted them together, members of the party who had not known one another before continued to use last names. The Shelbys and the Rosens had never fraternized or exchanged more than polite greetings. Shelby found it impossible to call her Belle, particularly now that she was nearly nude. He felt that she had earned the dignity of 'Mrs Rosen'. He said, 'A modern vessel with every safety appliance, rolling over like a canoe . . .'
Muller added. 'Look what happened to the Andrea Doria. Two ships with radar steaming into a head-on collision.'
Manny Rosen put in, 'It's all so nice when you're sitting in the Captain's cabin for a cocktail party, eating caviar sandwiches on the company and drinking champagne. So where is the Captain now, when we're needing him? Or all those other officers always dancing with the passengers?'
Nobody answered the question which hung there heavily in the enshrouding blackness. Obsessed with their struggle, it was so easy to forget, yet they all knew. Nonnie began to cry softly, 'All my pals . . .'
Jane Shelby, who was near her, groped an arm about her shoulder and said gently, 'I've lost my boy.'
Rogo said, 'Don't say that, ma'am. In an investigation of a missing person, we never give up until there is a . . .' He had been about to say corpus delicti, but checked himself in time, ' . . . a definite indication that there's no chance. We may find him when we get to the top.'
Jane said, 'Thank you, Mr Rogo, I understand. But by now he would have heard us. He would have seen our lights.'
'It's a big ship, ma'am. He may have gone another way.'
Jane thought:
It was the way that he went that I cannot bear, amidst filth and stench. That I left him so as not to shame him . . . a boy being shamed of a bodily function in the presence of his mother. He was so young to be blotted out like that, and I'll never know when or where, or how, or what his last thoughts were.
Rogo said, 'I'd do anything to find him for you, ma'am. Maybe I should have stayed back and had another look.' All his easily stirred policeman's sympathies lay with the mother of the victim.
'Thank you, Mr Rogo. No, it was useless. He wasn't there.'
Scott's voice was heard, 'He'll be found. The kid had guts. He was playing the game.' He spoke with such confidence and assertion that for an instant Jane's heart was filled with hope until she felt suddenly that he might very well be speaking not for her, but for himself.
He then said again, 'Let's go!' and snapped on the lantern strapped to his back. It threw its beam upwards into the tangled steel that yet awaited them. 'I won't kid you. The last half will be more difficult, more tiring and more dangerous.'
A little distance from the top was the overhang Scott had seen, a weird circular ladder made up of the square steel teeth of the reduction gear wheel jammed against the side when the entire unit had ripped loose. It offered hand and footholds, but the climber, for six or eight feet, would be tilted backwards with his body angled precariously over the abyss below.
This was again the problem they had encountered before, the inverted staircase which twice they had solved by avoiding it. This one could not be bypassed. It had to be negotiated to the point where the teeth receded once more into a position where the weight would be thrown forward again, easing the pressure on arms and thighs. Neither from below, or now that they were close to it, had Scott been able to see any way around it. All he could count upon was the fact that he, Martin and Shelby would be at the top by the time the weakest members of the party reached the spot. They would be able to hold and help them via the ropes.
'Anyone know what time it is?' Martin asked. 'My watch stopped at a quarter past two.'
'Hell!' said Muller. 'So has mine. That muck we swam through.'
Shelby said, 'It's been a half-hour at least since then. It must be almost three o'clock.'
'We've been this way almost six hours,' said Martin. 'My God, what's holding the ship up?'
Miss Kinsale was arranging her ropes. 'It's you who said it, Mr Martin . . . God!'
'With an assist from the Reverend Dr Scott,' Muller muttered to himself.
'What did you say, darling?' Nonnie asked.
The 'darling' grated on Muller but then he looked at her and loved her again.
Rogo said, 'She ain't gonna stay up much longer.'
'So, then, is there any use we should keep on climbing up like this?' Manny queried.
Scott was ready to leave now, but he turned back to them all for a moment and replied simply, 'Yes, because we are human beings responsible to ourselves.'
The simple statement rang through Muller like a bell, and for the first time he felt he understood something of the character of this ecclesiastical athlete and his climb, as well as himself for following him; the goal they had set themselves in the face of almost insurmountable obstacles and a well nigh hopeless situation.
Up had always been good; down was bad. God and Heaven were up; Hell and the Devil were down. The road to damnation was the downward path. Resurrection was ascent. Phrases rang through his ears: 'So-and-So is rising in the world. He's on his way up . . . Poor old You-Know-Who is slipping they say. Losing his grip. If he doesn't watch his step, he'll be down and out.' Down and Out! Up and safe on top of the heap. Man's whole history had been an ascent . . . upwards, always upwards out of the ooze and slime of the sea, on to the land, higher and higher and now reaching out his arms to the planets. His mythology created the dwellers underground as misshapen dwarfs and monsters, the creatures of the upper air were exquisite, graceful, winged fantasies of light.
Where else, indeed, was there to go but up, as long as one had a single breath left in one's body? Even the poor, wheezy fat woman to whom every move must have been an almost unbearable torture, was not quitting. Was it really the hope of a miracle of rescue that was driving them onwards, or the curious hypnotism of the climb itself, the very upness of it. They had protested and quarrelled, balked and tried to shirk, all, but given up. But always they had come. back to the striving aloft.
This must be at the core of Scott's religion, or his faith to justify himself as a man. Whether or not he truly saw rescue as the end result, if he and they failed, with one's last gasp one would be maintaining the dignity his God had bestowed. And Muller wondered if from the very first Scott had not led them, would they now be dead in the grip of the dark water below; would they each on their own have made some effort to adapt themselves to this once familiar world turned upside-down and struggle in the right direction?
Aloud he said, 'Okay, let's go.'
Scott made one change in the order of their proceeding. He altered the positions of Manny Rosen and Kemal, so that Manny came before Belle and the Turk after. Then he took the latter and pointed upward to the bad patch, pantomiming.
Kemal nodded and said, 'Hokay, hokay!' with a glance from his broad hands to Belle Rosen's bottom.
'We'll make it,' Scott promised and took his first hand and foothold to start them on their last lap.
He had been right. It was more difficult and more dangerous, and their unused muscles were beginning to cramp and give out. The pauses had to come at more frequent intervals, particularly for Belle who groaned, complained and lamented with every rise and yet kept going as they all did. For there was also the hypnosis of discipline and obedience that Scott had instilled, each to follow the other in exactly the same manner, and it was their concentration in obeying, in watching the one above and trying to follow, that to some extent kept their minds off their failing strength.
The overhang of the gear wheel ascent was now above the Minister's head. Slight as the angle was, he wondered however Mrs Rosen would manage it. Much depended upon Kemal. He said to Miss Kinsale, 'Let your slack go so that we have about ten feet between us. Watch how I do it, then try to do the same, except I'll be pulling you as well. Do you see? Pass the word along to Martin and on down.'
He started up, using not only his hands but his knees and elbows to brace himself. He was strong and still in condition from daily workouts on the squash courts and deck tennis. But he could feel the pains crawling up his wrists into his forearms, then his biceps. It was heave, push, pull and hang on. His thighs were aching.
'I'm praying,' said Miss Kinsale.
'Never mind that! Keep your eyes open and your wits about you,' Scott gasped almost testily. 'When you reach where I am, lean to the left, understand?'
'Yes, Dr Scott,' Miss Kinsale sounded contrite. 'I'll tell that to Mr Martin too.'
Scott pulled himself over the last overhanging piece. The next was vertical, and those above tilted backwards like steps. When he caught his breath, he climbed them without any trouble. To his relief, the last lap was what he had suspected he had seen, a companionway intact, but reversed with the steps unbacked. They had only to go around behind it and use it like a ladder.
'It's a
cinch
, once you get up here,' he called down. He grasped the guide-rope and look a turn with it around his wrist. 'Okay, come up,' and pulled.
Miss Kinsale made the passage astonishingly easily, whether it was because she was slight and wiry or the example and added help of Scott on the rope, but in half the time it had taken him, she stood beside him. She said, 'Dr Scott, I'm afraid Mrs Rosen will never be able to do it.'
He replied, 'She will. If she can't, we will have to leave her behind. But she's very brave.'
Miss Kinsale stared at him with an expression on her face as close to shock and disapproval as she had ever mustered. 'You're not serious, about leaving her?'
'We've had to leave that Englishman and his girl and dozens of others who could not or would not come. How do you think we've come through this far? We're winning.'
Miss Kinsale said, 'We've lost the boy,' and was taken aback by the sudden expression of fury on the Minister's face.
'Don't ever say that!'
She apologized, 'I'm sorry, Dr Scott. I didn't mean . . .' Then she added, 'May I stay here and help her?'
'No. There are others to come. I have done the best I can for her. We can be of more use from the top.'
Miss Kinsale asked, 'Do you mind if I pray for her?'
Scott replied, 'If you want to. But she must already have pleased God beyond anything words of supplication could do. We'll see.'
Laboriously, step by step they made their way higher, pausing only to help Martin by hauling on him. Susan, young and athletic, had enough left to negotiate it, but Jane and Richard Shelby were in agony. Shelby thought that he would fall backwards and dangle helplessly. Yet even as he felt he was giving up, he had crossed the danger line.
By now Scott, Miss Kinsale and Martin had reached the top, where they could apply enough power to get Manny Rosen over the worst of it, so that he could crawl up the rest, scraping his knees and belly. But he was very proud of himself and shouted down, 'See Mamma, I made it! It ain't so terrible.'
But it was.
For Belle Rosen was indeed at the end of her strength. The higher they climbed, the hotter, more oppressive and airless it became, and she could not suck oxygen into her lungs. When those above pulled on the rope it tended only to jam her more closely to the gear wheel where she clung, moaning and gasping, 'I can't, I can't! Oh, let me go, let me fall! I can't, I can't!'
It was Kemal's power below her, pushing, lifting an arm and a leg at a time that was keeping her there. He was trying to force her limbs into the spaces between the teeth so that her whole weight would not be on the rope that was cutting into the bulging flesh of her side. He had her half up when he felt his own great resistance failing and he began to cry out and shout, 'Oh, oh, no can! No can!'
Muller squeezed past Nonnie, dragging Linda with him. The thoughts he had been having had charged him anew. He was obsessed with up; rising, climbing, ascending, high, higher -- the road to up must not be blocked.
Linda cried, 'Stop it! You're hurting me. Look out! The old cow'll come down on top of us.'
He said, 'Keep quiet, you stupid bitch,' and ranged himself next to the Turk.
With an unexpected ally on his side, Kemal found a last reserve. The two men pushed and heaved. And now what had before been a handicap, suddenly came to their rescue; the film of oil covering all. For lifted and shoved, she suddenly slid over the slippery surface to be dragged bumping and slapping against the remainder of the pseudo staircase, at the top of which she flopped, writhing and gasping.