Martin Walker - The Devil's Cave

‘I’m going to climb over the lip here and then you let me down with the rope,’ he said to Albert, slipping off his boots. ‘When I reach somewhere I can stand, give the rope to J-J and then you come down with the breathing equipment. I’ll need you down there to pull me out if required.’

He rolled over the lip, holding on with one hand, the torch in the other, and he told Albert to let him down slowly.

‘You’re mad,’ said Albert, but with Jules and J-J helping him hold the rope, the fire chief began letting Bruno down, a few centimetres at a time.

Bruno turned his head to one side to avoid the rush of water, but told himself it wasn’t much stronger than the powerful showers at the rugby club. He felt the water filling his clothes and adding to his weight. Under his stockinged feet the rock felt very smooth. There would be no handholds to help him climb back up.

‘Twelve metres,’ shouted Albert from above, his voice almost drowned out by the waterfall.

‘Keep going,’ Bruno shouted back. ‘There’s another couple of metres of rope wrapped around me.’

Suddenly his foot touched something flat. He tested it and it took his weight. He explored with his other foot and found he was on a flat ledge, maybe a metre wide, with a smoothly rounded lip that had been worn away by countless centuries of water. But he could stand and turn and the light showed him the froth of the waterfall at his feet, falling into a pool perhaps ten metres wide and not much more than two metres across. To his left the wall of rock was smooth and unbroken. To his right, in the direction of the Gouffre, was a tunnel though which he could see the water flow. He put his hand in; the current was insistent, rather than strong. He could probably swim against it on the return journey. With Albert pulling him, he was sure he could.

He looked up and pointed his torch, and through the mist rising from the falling water he saw Albert’s bullet-shaped head poking over the rim.

‘It’s fine, there’s a ledge. Come on down,’ he shouted, and beckoned Albert to join him. He steadied the rope as the burly fire chief let himself down hand over hand.

‘ Putain , that plastic rope gets slippery when it’s wet,’ said Albert as he let go of the rope and studied his raw palms. ‘I had to take my gloves off, I had no grip.’

Bruno helped him off with the breathing apparatus and strapped it onto his back. Albert took off his goggles, unhooked the breathing mask from where it hung around his neck and checked the connections before handing them to Bruno.

‘Let me check something first,’ said Bruno. ‘I’m going to turn off the torch because people in the Gouffre should have the lights on and we may be able to see a glow.’

‘The bomb could have killed the lights,’ said Albert.

‘Let’s try it anyway.’ Bruno switched off the light.

The blackness was not quite total. A faint glow came from above them, over the lip of the waterfall where a single candle barely illuminated the cave. He saw the silhouettes of the heads of J-J and Jules as they looked down at them. Bruno could not be sure, but he thought he felt as much as saw a glimmering deep in the water.

‘What’s happened?’ shouted J-J, dimmed by the water.

‘It’s OK,’ Bruno called. ‘Just checking the light.’ And he turned it back on. ‘Let go of the rope so we can use it down here.’

It snaked down and Bruno tied the loose end of the rope around Albert’s crotch and shoulders and showed him how to lie on the ledge, his feet braced on the wall beside the tunnel. It might be a problem to throw the rope back up to Jules and J-J but he’d cross that bridge if he came to it.

‘That gives me twenty metres of rope to explore that tunnel, and if there’s light in the Gouffre, I should see it by then,’ he said. ‘If I jerk the rope three times, that means pull me out, OK?’

‘Good luck,’ said Albert, and they shook hands. Bruno sat on the ledge, fixed his face mask, tasted the sharpness of the oxygen and let himself slip into the water. Head first, or rather helmet first, he tucked the torch tight against his chest. With the other arm ahead of him to feel for obstacles, he let the current take him through the dark mouth of the tunnel and into the underground river.

Once past the mouth of the tunnel where the turbulence meant that all he could see were air bubbles, he began to make out the loom of walls and roof through the murky water. He lowered his feet but could feel no bottom. To account for such depth, there must be more water coming into this river than just the flow from the waterfall. He raised his hand and was sure he felt air above the surface. He turned onto his back and knew he was floating and could see the smooth stone of the tunnel roof passing above him at something like walking pace. It meant he might even be able to navigate this passage without the breathing equipment. That might give the Count a fighting chance of survival, him with the face mask and Bruno alongside. He could breathe the air in the space above.

Suddenly he felt the speed of the flow increase and his feet touched bottom. The tunnel was narrowing as it shallowed but its floor was too smooth for him to get any grip with his feet. The tunnel seemed to turn in a dog-leg bend and he felt himself thud against something, a kind of projection that gave him just enough purchase to stretch out his legs and brace his feet against the far wall as the current washed over him.

There was no pocket of air above him now but there was still some slack in the rope, and he wondered if Albert could haul him back against this current and around the dog-leg turn. That was a big risk. Before he took it, he turned off his torch to see if there was any sign of a glow ahead.

There was more than a glow. It was as if his torch was beaming into a mirror in front of him, a strong ray of light shining at his face and a second light behind it. Suddenly he was not alone. Human shapes were almost upon him, heads in goggles and face masks, arms clutching at bars that seemed to be braced against the tunnel walls. A hand came slowly towards his face, a thumb up in the universal sign that it was going to be all right.

The hand then pointed at Bruno and signed that he should follow back towards the Gouffre. Bruno shook his head and pointed to the rope tied around him. Then he pointed back the way that he had come. He nodded his head vigorously to insist that this should be done his way and gave three sharp tugs on the rope.

Bruno felt his body lurch as Albert hauled with all his strength and he tried to swim to help the burly fire chief. Now there were supporting hands on his shoulders to push him along, and those strange metal bars that seemed to appear ahead of him and give purchase on the smooth walls of the tunnel.

Faster than he had come, he was hauled back to see Albert straining at the rope. His face was tight with effort and coils of rope lay festooned across his body. Albert’s eyes widened in surprise as one, two and then three strange heads appeared above the water in a blaze of spotlights, pushing Bruno up onto the ledge. He took off his breathing mask and hugged Albert in gratitude, then helped the first of the strangers onto the ledge.

‘Perigord cave rescue team, I’m Miko,’ said the stranger. ‘Miko Moreau from Les Eyzies. We’re very glad to see you. Where are the others and how’s the patient? We’ve got a doctor with us.’

‘Very good to see you too, and thanks,’ said Bruno, hearing his voice high and squeaky from the oxygen. He was shivering from the cold but surging with adrenalin. ‘The others are fine and there’s a medic from the Gendarmes Mobiles with the patient. They’re all in the cave above the waterfall here.’

‘It’s a good job you came down it then, we’d probably never have looked up there. We could have missed you altogether,’ said Moreau. ‘This is Fernand, our team leader, and this is Pierre, our doctor.’