I sat down hard and burst into tears. Anger, disappointment, frustration and fear: to have come so far and to be finally denied our freedom. A further cruelty were the chinks of light that came through a crack in the roof above, showing us just how impossible a crossing would be. At some time or another water had built up against a wall of the cave until the rock had given way and the water had roared through, digging itself a deep channel over the years, to disappear underground once more.
One by one we retreated to the first bend in the passage, where at least we could hear ourselves speak.
"I—I can't swim!" blubbered Claude, his tears, like mine, mixing with the fine spray that had drenched us. Indeed we were all shivering, and it was this, more than anything, that brought me back to my senses.
"Neither can I," I said. "But there must be some way across."
"Not through that water," said Danny, his usual optimism dampened. "You're not on your own, Claude, you great lob-lolly, so pull yourself together and get that brain of yours working. We'll think of something." But he didn't sound convinced.
I looked around. "Where's Beau?" I wiped my face, ashamed of my earlier outburst.
"Here," he said. "Just been reconnoitering." He was dripping; his fur clung to him in clumps, bare skin showing through the darkened pelt. "All may not be lost." He spoke to me through drying licks of his fur. "This must be the reason (lick) that the cavern was finally abandoned. (Lick) We can't get out at the far end (lick) where the water exits (lick) because there is a risk (lick) that we would be sucked down and lost."
"It's all impossible!" I burst out. "We can't wade or swim across: we'd be dashed to pieces on the rocks. There must be some other way out!"
"Probably, but it might take days to find it (lick) and even then it could leave us stranded (lick) high up on some mountain. (Lick) Besides we have no food and no candles. (Lick) And Master Claude's ankle is not getting any better. (Lick) No, this is the best we can do. Let me think . . ." He continued to tidy himself, finishing with a comb to his whiskers. Right-handed, or pawed, I noted . . .
The tiny bit of candle in my hand gave a flare and collapsed back, a reminder of how little time we had left.
"Could we catch some fish?" We all gazed at Claude without speaking and he sighed. "Just a thought."
"Rod, line, hook, bait, net?" said Danny, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Besides which there probably aren't any, and if there were they would be uneatable. What kind of fish live in a cave all their lives?"
Suddenly Beau started to pace back and forth, his tail twitching from side to side. We all watched him, not really in any kind of hope, but with a wish that he would suggest something, anything.
At last he stopped his pacing and looked at me. "We still have the rope?"
I nodded. "About forty feet long."
"Should be long enough. Tell them to tie a loop about a foot across at one end." I relayed his instructions, dying to know what he had in mind, but not wanting to be disappointed by some cat-brained scheme that couldn't possibly work. "Now," said Beau to me, after inspecting the knot, "make a bag out of the jackets, one strong enough to hold me, but leave the two ends free."
I was more mystified than ever, especially when he trod around the scoop of leather and declared himself satisfied. "It'll do."
"Do what?" I just had to ask. Beau looked up at me, his blue eyes gleaming in the last of the candlelight.
"The only thing we can do," he said. "You are going to catapult me across to the other side!"
It sounded like complete madness, stated like that, but once Beau had explained a bit more to me, I could see that there might, just might, be a glimmer of hope, although it was an awful risk for him. All his calculations had to be exactly right, and if he failed the consequences for all of us were too horrible to contemplate.
He sensed my reluctance. "What alternative is there? Come on, let's get it over with. The others understand what they have to do?" I nodded. "Your job is to hang on to the other end of the rope and pay it out: don't lose the end!"
"What happens if . . . ?"
I couldn't say it.
"Then you will have to pray—ask the Ring to help you, if I cannot."
That was a strange thing: the Ring wasn't jabbing a warning. It seemed as cool as ever. Perhaps it was because I wasn't yet in any real danger. I gave it a quick rub, praying it to help Beau.
He led us back to the roaring waters and in moments we were all soaked once more. The path alongside was neither even nor of uniform width and very slippery underfoot; at one moment we could walk two abreast, the next we were hugging the wall, terrified lest we slip, the weak illumination from above making it even more difficult as we slipped from light to shadow almost step for step.
At one point a large chunk of rock broke away behind us: glancing back I saw it had taken the path with it and shivered with fear: no way back!
Beau, who was leading the way, stopped and looked at me. This was the spot he had chosen. Although the torrent was not at its narrowest here, still some twenty feet across, at least the ledge on which we stood was wide enough to swing a cat—what an awful expression to think of, given the circumstances!—and on the other side was another, not as wide but at least clear of obstacles.
Beau indicated that Claude and Danny should spread out his "sling" on the ground; he climbed in and settled himself comfortably, shaking himself first like a dog to rid his fur of excess water. I knelt down by his side.
"Are you sure?"
His only answer was: "Going to wish me luck?"
"All the luck in the world!" and without thinking I leant forward and kissed his wet muzzle.
There was a sudden gleam of light, blue light, as though a spark had been lit behind those beautiful eyes.
"One down, two to go . . ." He nodded at Claude and Danny. "Tell them to start swinging; not too fast at first, but higher and stronger bit by bit, like a child on a swing."
My mind momentarily confused by having actually kissed an animal, a thing I thought I would never do, afeared by the dreadful position in which we found ourselves, numbed by the terrible cold, dazed by the roar of the torrent and nursing the thoughts of everything that could go wrong, I found it difficult to start everything off. I remembered at the last moment, thank God, to wrap the other end of the rope around my wrist, ready to pay out the rest. The loop I settled around Beau's neck and stepped back. All was now ready. I muttered a swift prayer for all of us, my heart beating like a hammer, and making my breathing more difficult than it had become over the past few days.
At last, still reluctant, I nodded at the other two.
Slowly at first they achieved some sort of rhythm. Beau was now about the size and weight of a large dog, and it took some time to get the swing effective, back and forth, higher and higher. I could see the cat was clinging with all his might to the cloth, to avoid being shaken off too early; he must be feeling pretty sick.
The sling went higher and higher, until eventually at its highest it reached the height of Claude's shoulder. Suddenly on the next outward swing there was a flash of fur and in a seemingly endless arc Beau sailed through the air, a blur of movement against the spray. I followed his progress with agonised attention: like all such moments, it seemed to be happening at half-speed. As I automatically paid out the rope all I could think was. "He isn't going to make it, he isn't going to make it—he couldn't!"
For an agonising moment he landed and then teetered unsteadily on the ledge on the far side, then he gained ground and with a surge of relief I saw him safe and upright on the ledge he had chosen. The boys let out a cheer, which I doubt he could have heard, but I was too busy with my tears of relief to join in. At least one of us was safe. . . .
"Congratulations, dear Beau!" I thought across to him.
"It was the kiss that did it!"
I was glad to see that he still had a sense of humour.
"Listen, Sophy: I think I can smell fresh air. I'm going to go to the end of the passage and find out. In the meantime put a loop on your end of the rope and move a bit farther down. I'll loop mine over here."
Beau stopped some fifty feet farther on, shucked off his loop and passed it over a pinnacle in one easy movement. He then looked through the spray at me.
"Find something similar over there, and get the rope as taut as you can. Back in a bit."
When he did come back, some ten minutes later, he was still soaked through, but he held his tail at a jaunty angle. "It's there," he called out to me. "The way out. About half a mile farther on. So let's get going. Send the first one over!"
We had discussed this before. Danny, being the most lithe and agile among us would be first, so he could help anyone in difficulties from the other side. We had the rope stretched as taut as we could, so it didn't dip into the water.
I relayed Beau's good news. "So, just a quick hand over hand," I said in a shout to make myself heard. "Ready, Danny?"
"Easy as fallin' off a log," he shouted back. "When it comes to your turn grasp the rope firmly, cross your ankles and hang upside down. One hand at a time and don't look down. Just concentrate on getting across as quick as you can."
"Wherever did you learn all that?"
He leaned close, his curls flattened against his head with the wet, and spoke in my ear. "From me da'. And wasn't he the best housebreaker in all Ireland?"
At least that's what I thought he said. But I might have been mistaken.
A moment later he was off, swinging across the gap like a monkey, although he was soaked through in a second, and I could see the spray was getting in his eyes. It took about two minutes to cross the twenty-foot wide chasm, but he stepped off the other side safe and sound. He checked the loop their end, then gave us a cheery wave, meaning: "Next one!"
I had already decided this should be Claude, because I knew that if he was left until last, he would never have the courage to start out. It wasn't his fault: he was just like that. He would always need someone to pull him and someone to push.
Just before he set off Beau thought to me: "Now we've found the way out we won't need the haversacks, so leave them behind. Just get anything you want out first." I knew Danny would have nothing, but had a look just in case. A pack of cards, some of those silly photographs, a couple of dice: I tucked the first and last into an oilskin pack in which I kept my sewing things, fob-watch and Bible. At the last moment I tucked my monthly rags and clean handkerchiefs into my pockets: they would dry out. Claude retrieved his notebooks, also in oilskin, and tucked them into his jacket, together with his chronometer and photograph of his mother.
Then I took at least five minutes arranging him on the rope. His legs were so long that he didn't seem to have grasped the concept of hauling himself across with his ankles hooked over the rope. First one then the other fell off, and when I had got them properly aligned I found he was hugging the rope to his chest instead of hanging by his hands. In the end I got quite cross with him, and told him I would go myself and he would be left on his own if he didn't pull himself together.
At last he started off at a snail's pace, his eyes tight shut and a sort of moaning noise coming down his nostrils. As he got farther across the rope sloped downwards, aiding his progress; at last he seemed to be getting the hang of it. I checked the loop at our end: it seemed to be holding all right, although his slow, swaying progress was threatening to fray the edges a little.
If only he would just hurry up! He was now two-thirds of the way across, and I was just beginning to think I would have to steel myself to follow him very shortly, when it all happened.
His feet became unlocked and slipped down, until he was only hanging by his hands from the rope. He was making no attempt to right himself, and his mouth was open in a silent yell for help. I started forward, but Danny was quickest. In a moment he was back on the rope inching his way towards Claude. By now the whole thing was swaying wildly and I knelt down to hold it steady, hoping to God that it would hold, but it was swaying and jerking so much with both men on it that there was little I could do.
Eventually Danny reached the panicking Claude and leaned down to place his feet and ankles round the rope again and tried to tug him forward, but Claude wasn't having any. He doubled his arms around the rope and just hung on, making no effort to go either forward or back. I could see Danny was shouting at him, getting more and more exasperated, tugging at his collar and his belt. At last he jerked one of Claude's arms free and placed it forward on the rope, and pulled at him again. This time he moved, but only fractionally. Danny repeated the process again and again until he backed up on the ledge and inched Claude up as well.
Then he kicked him good and hard, on the behind—
In the meantime I could see Beau pacing anxiously back and forth. As soon as Claude was safe, he thought-yelled at me to hurry up. "And check the rope," he added.
I turned and saw to my horror that a couple of the strands had snapped, due probably to the extra weight of Claude and Danny together. But there looked to be plenty of thickness left, and I was now so cold that I couldn't have re-knotted the rope. I said a quick prayer, then lowered myself over the edge, pulled my sleeves over my hands, grasped the rope by guess rather than feel, because I was so numb, hooked my ankles over the rope as Danny had instructed and started to haul myself across.
He had made it look so easy, but I found it very hard. The weight of my body made it a real effort to pull with my arms, and my feet didn't help at all. All at once the Ring started to throb urgently, even though I had hardly any feeling in my hands. For a moment I gazed back, dreading that the loop was about to give way, and saw to my horror that the piece of rope to which Beau must have alluded was the one that hung over the river; it had sagged so much it was now badly frayed, and even as I looked a strand snapped and curled towards me.
For a moment I was frozen with fear, then the urgent pricking of the Ring got me going as fast as I could towards safety. Halfway there, at the lowest drop of the rope, almost touching the roaring waters beneath—
The rope broke.
Half a second later I found myself in the water.
This was not water as I had always known it, this was a battering ram, a great thumping that drove the breath from my body, bruised my arms, legs and ribs, banged my head with great cuffs, poured itself down my mouth as if it had forced my mouth open and then held it in a dentist's vise. My screams were literally washed away, and I was a piece of flotsam that wasn't sure which way was up and which was down.
Suddenly I was brought up by an agonising jerk round my waist, and for a second or two my head was above water. I took great gulps of air and promptly vomited before being sucked down again, frantically trying to rid myself of the constriction around my waist, only to find that it was the frayed end of the rope that had snapped and whipped around me.
I realised that this rope was possibly my only hope. It was firmly looped at Beau's end, so if I could hang on perhaps, just perhaps, I could pull myself towards the far side. I wrapped the loose end as tightly as I could around my arm. My mind was starting to blank out, and in another few minutes I should start to lose consciousness forever—
Another kind of painful jerk almost pulled my arm from its socket: had the rope snagged? Another jerk, I swallowed another mouthful of water, got a sudden gasp of air, choked, vomited again. Now I was dragging across rocks, my head took a painful blow, then at last my head was above water and the roaring pounding waters were receding. My shoulders were clear, my waist, my hips; my legs were being scraped against something and suddenly I was in a different dimension, flat on my stomach on the rocks on the far side where the boys had hauled me. Anxious hands were patting and pummelling me and my ears ringing and bubbling with water and distorted voices.
I tried to sit up, but firm hands were pressing me down, pumping the rest of the water from my lungs. I dribbled for a bit and then tried again. "I'm—I'm fine," I managed at last. "But so cold . . ." Somebody's jacket was put round my shoulders and I was helped to my feet, shaking and trembling, Danny on one side and a limping Claude on the other, and led away from the roaring torrent.
There was a faint mew ahead. "Follow me," said Beau. "The light from behind will guide you to the turn in the passage, and then you will be able to see where we get out of here. Just take it easy: there's no real hurry right now."
I was crying however, and couldn't seem to stop, and the three of us stumbled along that ill-lit passage like a trio of drunks leaving an inn at closing-time. I was still shivering, my head ached, my chest hurt so much I wondered whether I had cracked any ribs, and I was still coughing up what I supposed was water.
It took us an hour, that last half-mile, but at last I could smell fresh air, sharp and cold, and see a patch of daylight ahead, growing bigger as we stumbled and swayed towards it.
A moment later and I blinked: something was obscuring the light, something that grew larger and larger until it filled my vision. A creature radiating warmth and comfort and reassurance—
"Ky-Lin . . . !"