Duncan Kyle - Terror's Cradle

`How do you feel?'

Ì'm all right.'

I said, 'I didn't lead them to you, you know. They must have had a lot of men in town tonight, watching for us.'

Ì know. Forget it.'

Somehow I found myself slightly in awe of Anderson, something I don't feel often for an yone. He had the solid confidence of a wholly self-contained man, a tangible authority that seemed to come from deep knowledge of his own world. Looking at him now, at the helm of his boat, it wasn't difficult to imagine other Andersons a thousand years ago, coming confidently to these shores in the same flimsy longboats that also explored Iceland and Greenland and may even have crossed to America. I almost hesitated to speak. Almost. I told myself sharply not to be a fool, and said, `Tell me where the bloody thing is. And why you copied it.'

He glanced at me. Àlsa's note said her life depended on that one thing. It wasn't much, that flimsy wee piece of film, for the girl's life to hang on. But Alsa wouldn't have said it, if it hadn't been true. You'd know that. I thought, what if I lose it, or maybe damage it. What then? So I made a copy.'

Òne copy.'

Àye, one. I'd not lose two'

`Where are we going? And when we get there, what then?'

`Later.'

`Now!' I said. 'You can't afford to be the rugged individualist. Not any more. You've only one arm, for a start. You're going to need me.'

`He looked at me dourly, the weighing eye of the islander

on the city slicker. But he told me. 'Noss,' he said. `The Holm? That bloody cradle !'

`There isn't a cradle any more. I cut the rope last night. But it's on the Holm, all the same.'

`Then how — ?'

He spoke one word then, and I shuddered, because the word meant a lot of things; it also flashed pictures on the screen of my mind. I didn't like what I saw. The word was, `

Climb.'

I made myself speak quietly, and reasonably, and listened to the tremble in my voice., '

You can't climb it.'

`No.'

Ànd I certainly can't.'

He turned to look at me and nodded. 'You can do it.'

I said, 'I wouldn't even try. I get vertigo on a long escalator. I've no climbing skill. For Christ's sake, man!'

`Take the wheel.' He went into the cabin and came out again a moment later carrying a big canvas bag with a drawstring neck. He fiddled one-handed with it for a moment, then handed it to me. I pulled the neck wide and he tipped the contents out: a pile of metal objects that rattled into the stern seat. He shone his torch on the little pile and picked out a shiny piece of metal a few inches long. 'See that? '

I nodded. 'What is it?'

`jumar clip,' he said. 'Sooner use Heiblers myself, but the Jumar's safe and efficient and I'

ve no Heiblers here. Now see,' he fumbled among the bits and pieces and selected three other items. The first was another identical clip. The other two were stirrups of some kind, with strong webbing through the eyelets.

`Now do you see?'

Ì bloody well don't see!' I thought of that dreadful cliff, all two hundred feet of it, sheer and impossible. And I thought about Alsa, too, and my stomach churned because I knew suddenly that I was going to try. I had to try! I'd fail; I knew that, too, with awful certainty, just as I'd failed all

along the line. But with Alsa still a prisoner .. .

I said soberly, through a dry, rasping throat, 'How does it work?'

Anderson said, 'In the night, before I cut the cable, I crossed to the Holm and let down a rope. It's secure, don't worry. Now, what you do is this . . I listened appalled. It was safe, he said. I couldn't fall, he said. He got the climbing belt from the cabin and demonstrated how safe it was and why I couldn't fall. He told me the breaking strain of the nylon line was God knows how many thousand pounds. He didn't convince me for a second.

We moved away from the eastern cliffs of Bressay, across open water towards the southern tip of Noss. When I could tear my eyes away from the sinister wedge silhouette of the island, I glanced across towards Bressay, wondering about Lincoln's boat. Was it wrecked, sunk, what? I should have felt guilty, but I didn't. Where I was going, sins were forgiven, though I doubted if Lincoln would forgive mine. The closer we came, the more impossible the whole crazy idea became. As distance narrowed, the cliffs reared higher. From above they'd seemed big, from below, as Anderson nosed the boat in beneath them, they looked stupendous, grim dark grey walls striped strangely across with dull white. Anderson looked up at them almost with affection. He could afford to; he didn't have to climb.

He said, 'Be glad it's winter.'

`Why?'

`Big breeding grounds, these cliffs. Everything's up there at nesting time : all the gulls, gannets, razor bills, guillemots. Fulmars too. Just be thankful there are no fulmars.'

`Why?'

`They spit at you if you disturb them. Oil from their throats. It stinks, enough to knock you down. You can never get the smell off your clothes. Be thankful, man.'

I dutifully tried to be thankful, but it was difficult. Lincoln's apt phrase, a hole into hell, kept coming back to me and the more my mind repeated it the truer it seemed. We came nosing into the black gap between the Holm and the island, engine slowed just a little, Anderson handling the boat with high skill where the water pounded between the huge walls.

I buckled the belt, then crept forward, boathook in one hand, torch in the other, looking for the rope.

`Just . . . a bit more . . .' Anderson was looking upward for the dangling rope. 'There!'

I hooked it in and passed the soaking end through my belt loop, then fastened the Jumar clips in position, one above the other. From each clip a stirrup dangled on its web strap. I put my foot in one stirrup and tried my weight on it experimentally, but there was a quick movement beneath me and the boat was gone, carried away on a swift surge of water!

Anderson shouted, 'Don't panic. Other foot!'

Scared daft, I clung to the rope tightly while I felt with my foot for the other stirrup. It seemed for long moments that I'd never find it, but then my toe slid into the swinging metal loop and at least I could get myself into some sort of balance. I stood for a moment then and looked up at the silhouette sixty feet above me where a massive overhang bellied out against the sky. The sea hissed and swirled beneath me, almost drowning Anderson's shouted instruction to get going.

I still didn't believe it would work. Two metal clips and a pair of stirrups to conquer this awesome combination of height and space? It was so patently absurd!

`Get on man!' Anderson shouted again.

I swallowed and took hold of the first Jumar and tried to slide it up the rope. It wouldn't budge. I pushed and sweated, beginning to panic, before the pressure of the stirrup under my instep told me what was wrong. I raised my foot and tried again. This time the Jumar clip slipped easily upward. But was it secure? Carefully I let my weight move from one stirrup to the other. The clip held, gripping tight as my weight forced its sprung jaws against the rope. All right, now the next,! I moved the second clip up until it touched the first, transferred my weight, and felt it grip. The two clips were one under the other; I couldn't move the second past the first. I moved the top clip again, pushed down hard on the stirrup, and went up another eighteen inches. Now again, left foot this time. Okay. At least it worked. As a system, it worked. I let out a deep breath of near relief that became a gasp as the rope pivoted suddenly. Vomit rose in my throat. I glanced down at the water. I'd climbed perhaps five feet; nothing against the task that remained. And I saw something else too. Anderson was leaving; already his boat was backing off at the entrance to the gorge. Why? I forced the question from my mind. He'd have a reason, even if I couldn't see it. I forced myself to climb. The strain on my legs was murderous and the pressure on my feet was just where it hurt most under the instep. It was probably correct technique to take the weight on the ball of the foot; I understood that, but couldn't make myself do it. The further my foot went through the stirrups, the safer I felt and to hell with the pain!