Charles Sheffield - The Amazing Dr. Darwin

“No. I can get it. You know, this is the same glow that we saw on the creatures on Cross Fell.”

He reached over the edge. His groping fingers were ten inches short of the highest growth. Grunting with the effort, Darwin took hold of the loose end of a trailing rope from the bridge, and levered himself farther over the edge.

“Erasmus, don’t be a fool. Wait until we can come back here tomorrow, with the others.”

Darwin grunted again, this time in triumph. “Got it!”

The victory was short-lived. As he spoke the hemp of the rope, rotted by many years of damp, disintegrated in his grasp. His body, off balance, tilted over the edge. With a startled oath and a titanic splash, Darwin plunged headfirst into the dark water beneath.

“Erasmus!” Jacob Pole swung around and groped futilely in the darkness for several seconds. He at last located the shuttered lantern, opened it and swung its beam onto the surface of the pool. There was no sign of Darwin. Pole ripped off his greatcoat and shoes. He stepped to the edge, hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath and jumped feet-first into the unknown depths of the black, silent pool.

“More than three hours now. They should have signalled.”

“Perhaps they did.” Richard Thaxton squinted out of the window at the dark hillside.

“No. The lantern has been steady. I’m worried, Richard. See, they set it exactly where the lights of the fiends disappeared into the Helm.” Anna shook her head unhappily. “It must be freezing up on Cross Fell tonight. I just can’t believe that they would sit there for three hours without moving or signalling, unless they were in trouble.”

“Nor can I.” Thaxton opened the window and stuck his head out. He stared at the bleak hillside. “It’s no good, Anna. Even when the moon was up I couldn’t see a thing up there except for the lantern—and I can only just see that when you tell me where to look. Let’s give it another half hour. If they don’t signal, I’ll go up after them.”

“Richard, be reasonable. Wait until dawn. You’ll have an accident yourself if you go up there in the dark—you know your eyes aren’t good enough to let you be surefooted, even by full moonlight.”

The freezing wind gusted in through the open window. Thaxton pulled it closed. “At dawn. I suppose you’re right. I’d best check the supplies now. I’ll take medicine and splints, but I hope to God we won’t be needing them.” He stood up. “I’ll tell two of the gardeners that we may have to make a rescue trip on the fell at first light. Now, love, you try and get some sleep. You’ve been glued to that window most of the night.”

“I will.” Anna Thaxton smiled at her husband as he left the room. But she did not move from her vigil by the window, nor did her eyes move from the single point of light high on the bleak slopes of Cross Fell.

The first shock was the cold of the water, enfolding and piercing his body like an iron maiden. Jacob Pole gasped as the air was driven from his lungs, and flinched at the thought of total immersion. Then he realized that he was still standing, head clear of the surface. The pool was less than five feet deep.

He moved around in the water, feeling with his stockinged feet until he touched a soft object on the bottom. Bracing himself, he filled his lungs and submerged to grope beneath the surface. The cold was frightful. It numbed his hands instantly, but he grasped awkwardly at Darwin’s arm and shoulder, and hoisted the body to the level of his own chest. Blinking water from his eyes, he turned the still form so that its head was clear of the surface. Then he stood there shuddering, filled with the awful conviction that he was supporting a corpse.

After a few seconds, Darwin began to cough and retch. Pole muttered a prayer of relief and hung on grimly until the spasms lessened.

“What happened?” Darwin’s voice was weak and uncertain.

“You fell in headfirst. You must have banged your head on the bottom.” Pole’s reply came through chattering teeth. His arms and hands had lost all feeling.

“I’m sorry, Jacob.” Darwin was racked by another spell of coughing. “I behaved like an absolute fool.” He roused himself. “Look, I can stand now. We’d better get out of here before we freeze.”

“Easier said than done. Look at the height of the edge. And I see no purchase on either side.”

“We’ll have to try it anyway. Climb on my shoulders and see if you can reach.”

Scrabbling with frozen hands on the smooth rock face, Pole clambered laboriously to Darwin’s shoulders, leaned against the side of the pit, and reached upwards. His straining fingertips were a foot short of the lip. He felt in vain for some hold on the rock. Finally he swore and slid back into the icy water.

“No good. Can’t reach. We’re stuck.”

“We can’t afford to be. An hour in here will kill us. This water must be snow-melt from the fell. It’s close to freezing.”

“I don’t give a damn where it came from—and I’m well aware of its temperature. What now, Erasmus? The feeling is going out of my legs.”

“If we can’t go up, we must go along. Let’s follow the pool to the left here.”

“We’ll be moving away from the lantern light up there.”

“We can live without light, but not without heat. Come on, Jacob.”

They set off, water up to their necks. After a few yards it was clear that the depth was increasing. They reversed their steps and moved in the other direction along the silent pool. The water level began to drop gradually as they went, to their chests, then to their waists. By the time it was down to their knees they had left the light of the lantern far behind and were wading on through total darkness. At last, Jacob Pole bent forward and touched his fingers to the ground.

“Erasmus, we’re out of the water completely. It’s quite dry underfoot. Can you see anything?”

“Not a glimmer. Stay close. We don’t want to get separated here.”

Pole shivered violently. “I thought that was the end. What a way to die—stand until our strength was gone, then drown, like trapped rats in a sewer pipe.”

“Aye. I didn’t care for the thought. ‘O Lord, methought what pain it was to drown, what dreadful noise of waters in my ears, what sights of ugly death within my eyes.’ At least poor Clarence smothered in a livelier liquid than black fell water. Jacob, do you have your brandy flask? Your hand is ice.”

“Left it in my greatcoat, along with the tinder and flint. Erasmus, I can’t go much farther. That water drained all my strength away.”

“Pity there’s not more flesh on your bones.” Darwin halted and placed his hand on Pole’s shoulder, feeling the shuddering tremors that were shaking the other’s skinny frame. “Jacob, we have to keep moving. To halt now is to die, until our clothes become dry. Come, I will support you.”

The two men stumbled blindly on, feeling their way along the walls. All sense of direction was quickly lost in the labyrinth of narrow, branching tunnels. As they walked, Darwin felt warmth and new life slowly begin to diffuse through his chilled body. But Pole’s shivering continued, and soon he would have fallen without Darwin’s arm to offer support.

After half an hour more of wandering through the interminable tunnels, Darwin stopped again and put his hand to Pole’s forehead. It burned beneath his touch.

“I know, ’Rasmus, you don’t need to tell me.” Pole’s voice was faint. “I’ve felt this fever before—but then I was safe in bed. I’m done for. No Peruvian-bark for me here on Cross Fell.”

“Jacob, we must keep going. Bear up. I’ve got cinchona in my medical chest, back at the house. We’ll find a way out of here before too long. Just hang on, and let’s keep moving.”