Arthur Upfield - Man of Two Tribes

“The men haven’t any boots or shoes, Inspector. You’re lucky.”

“The men’s feet are hardened. Yours are not. I am warning you that, should we escape, and should you refuse to wait with Havant and Maddoch, you may be abandoned.”

“I would prefer even that to staying here a second longer than necessary. You don’t know what it’s like being a woman without a thing to wear.”

“But I do know that you have much for which to be grateful to the doctor.”

“Him!” she exclaimed, witheringly. “I wouldn’t be left alone with him for a million pounds, even though he could get me out of what he’d get me into. Still, I don’t know. A million…”

“What about making us all a cup of tea?”

“Tea! We’retalking about falling in and out of sin and you ask for tea. I could adore a man with a sense of humour.”

She spoke quietly, looking at Bony with unconcealed admiration, her eyes candid and open to her mind. And still Bony was unable to decide whether she was being herself or Mae West.

She made the tea, and presented each of them with a small cake she took from the oven. The doctor had schooled the men, and when he proposed a game of draughts, Riddell agreed. Bony invited Jenks to sit with him.

“Hard rock?” he asked.

“Worked harder… and softer. Went in about two inches so far with only one of the pegs. How far you think sheoughta go?”

“Eleven or twelve inches,” replied Bony. “What is your guess?”

“ ’Boutthat. Take a long time.”

“That can’t be avoided. Anyway, we dare not fire the charge till after midnight, to be on the safe side.”

“You sure them blacksis up above?”

“Brennan saw one looking down. I saw their shadows. So did the doctor. They are up there, unquestionably, Jenks.”

“Like to get me hands on one of them.”

“A pleasure which would be short-lived.”

“Wetakin ’that tart with us, if we get out?”

“Should she wish to accompanyus. ”

“Gonnato be a drag.”

“Better for us all that she goes. If she remains she might do something foolish which would give away our escape to theabos.”

“Then better dong her and chuck her into Fiddler’s Leap.” The suggestion was serious. It startled Bony, and he glanced sharply at the ex-sailor. A grin appeared to widen the greyish stubble on his chin. “I keepforgettin ’ you’re a detective, Inspector.”

“That could be dangerous, Jenks. We shall get through if we pull together, and if we don’t panic.”

Bony detailed to Jenks the kind of opposition they would meet, and, as with Brennan, he urged extreme caution. An hour later he seized the opportunity to talk with Riddell.

“Joe, you are the strongest man here,” he concluded. “Much depends on you. We shall have to take water, most of which you will be called upon to carry. After the first two or three days’ travel, speed won’t be so urgent, but food and drink will be essential right to the last yard. If we were in a real jail and planning a breakout, you would do your part, and see to it that the rest did theirs. Now, wouldn’t you?”

“You’retellin ’ me, Inspector. What you says goes, and I’ll crash the bloke wot argues about that.”

The colour faded from the faraway patch of sky and, eating dinner by lamp-light, they waited for the first star to appear above them. And when the star swung into the ragged patch, Bony permitted them to continue with the boring.

Instantly they became again like boys setting out on adventure, working in relays, hammering the tent peg into the deepening hole having a diameter of little more than an inch. Dawn was promising another day when the hole was drilled sufficiently.

They packed cordite into the hole. The caps were packed in, and, grinning joyfully, the keeper of kerosene liberally drenched torn up cartons and rags to serve as the fuse. It was Riddell who suggested that Bony take the honour of applying the match.

In the hall they waited, Bony hoping that the dawn wind would blow the fumes of kerosene and burning material out over the Plain. The blast snapped against their ears, produced a cheer and a rush to the kitchen. The boulderlay split into three sections.

They dragged the slabs away. They fought each other to lie prone, and look into the small hole, but a little larger than that Lucy would need. The scrimmage thus early made Bony despair. When it was over, and they all had looked into the hole, he said coldly:

“May I now examine the result of the work on the boulder?”

“Yair, of course,” responded Riddell, and Brennan had sufficient grace to be ashamed. He said: “You can see daylight, Inspector. But our chances don’t look so good.”

Through a funnel Bony could see a larger space beyond it. The funnel sloped upwards sharply, and was less than two feet long. The space beyond the funnel appeared to be a narrow passage rising but a fraction less sharply than did the funnel.

He ordered a lamp to be brought, and pushed it into the funnel to examine the rock surround. Then he saw faint lines of close cracks, and hope blossomed again.

“Jenks!” he called. “See those cracks?”

“Cracks, all right,” agreed Jenks. “Could try ’emout and might break through. Or another charge might shift some thing. Any cordite left?”

“A little.”

“It’s on again. Reach me that hammer and iron.”

“Not now,” Bony said. “No hammering until tonight. Here’s the peg. Try levering here and there.”

The peg was blunt, and Bony called for a fresh one, rolling aside to permit Jenks the room he required. He could hear the point of the peg feeling rock, and now and then Jenks grunted.

“Might shift something with about two taps of the hammer,” Jenks said, and again was told to wait.

Bony sat up, to encounter the gaze of the circle of spectators.

“Go to the hall. Sing. Sing anything, but sing, and keep on singing. Beat time, mark time, to make a row. But keep it going.”

With ‘party’ enthusiasm, tin plates were beaten and Myra Thomas began singing ‘Long, Long Trail’. Bony was astonished by the quality of her voice, and soon other voices joined in.

“Go to it, Jenks,” he said, presenting the sailor with the hammer.

Even thus close to the impact of the hammer, the sound was negligible. Bony could do nothing to help Jenks and the waiting gave him opportunity to plan the next move, could the opening be enlarged.

‘Long Trail’ became the ‘Bells of St. Mary’ and the ‘Bells’ changed to the chant of ‘Three Blind Mice’.

“A bit’sgivin ’,” gasped Jenks. A move of position, the passing of a naked forearm across a bristly face, further effort. Then came a sound not of the hammer, a significant sound, and Jenks withdrew to examine the funnel by the light held by Bony.

“Might bring down a ton or two of the ruddy wall. I know. Get us a line I can fix to the peg and then we’ll haul whenstandin ’ well away.”

The released Murderers’ Institute Singers were back on the ‘Trail’ when Bony crossed the hall to his gear. With hands and head he encouraged them to continue, and with greater vigour. Jenks found slight difficulty in attaching the line to the peg to give a degree of leverage. He grunted and swore, and grinned when they edged back towards the entrance of the hall. He spat on his hands, gripped the line, nodded to Bony who pressed behind him, and slowly they hauled.

They could feel the peg moving. Against the distant light they saw the shape of the funnel altering… to become static again. They tried again with a fresh peg, the first bent and useless. And then there came a low grinding sound, and abruptly the shape of the funnel altered again. The funnel had become a tunnel.