leg. We'll have to leave Mingo behind. Mingo, he thought, and me. 'I'm not going to leave Mingo behind,' said Pierce in a breaking voice. 'I can push him. Just help me lift him into the hole. Here, feel it, feel it.' Between them they lifted the wet warm heavy dog up into the hole. Fortunately Mingo was used to being lifted about like a sack. 'Push him up, he'll slide. I'm getting in now. Just put your hand behind me, that's right, not too hard, stand by in case we tumble back.' The panting straining mass moved upward and for a moment Ducane could feel the boy's body braced like a bow and then his supporting hand was left in the air. A time passed. Then Pierce's voice: 'We're up! Only just though, my God he's a weight. Stay still, Mingo, lie down. I wonder if we can – Christ, there doesn't seem to be much room. Can you come up now?' Ducane sat on the edge of the dark hole whose blackness was no thicker than the surrounding air, and with the sense of a hopeless ritual slowly bent his knees until his feet were against the opposing wall. Even this required an almost impossible effort. He sat there. He had not the strength even to try. He moved his back against the slimy rock. His body was without force. The sea was moving just below him in strong regular surges, grinding the pebbles forward and back. The hollow clapping noise below had merged into a soft chaotic roar. But Ducane scarcely heard the sounds, scarcely knew if they were inside his head or not. He wondered, suppose I were to let the water itself lift me up the chimney? But no. It would rush up that narrow sloping hole like a demon and come sucking down again. Anything in that confined space would be battered to pieces. , What is it, John?' said Pierce's voice sharply from above. 'I can't do it,' said Ducane. , you must. Try. Keep your feet just a little lower than your head. Feel the wall for good foot places. Then just slide your shoulders and let your feet do the work like walking.' 'I can't try, Pierce. I haven't any strength. Don't worry. The sea will carry me up when the time comes.' 'Don't be crazy. Look out, I'm coming down.' Ducane could not move his cramped body in time. Pierce arrived, tumbling him out of the hole on to his knees in the rising water. 'Sorry. Oh God. I could try and push you but I could only just manage Mingo. Oh God, what shall we do? If only I'd brought a rope – I never thought ' Ducane had managed to stand up. He thought, I haven't got much longer before some sort of collapse. He could not think if this would be a collapse of mind or of body. Mind and body seemed utterly fused now in cold aching pain, and darkness. He said to himself deliberately, I must do everything that I can to survive. He said slowly, leaning back against the rock, 'We might – make – a rope – of our clothes – Pierce.' 'Yes, yes, quick. Can you undress? Nylon vests and pants, tear them into strips.' 'I am undressed, dear boy. You'll have to do the tearing. Here.' Ducane climbed awkwardly out of his vest and underpants. He seemed to have lost the schema of his body and had to find out the position of his limbs by experiment. He began to shiver uncontrollably. 'No, keep yours till I've torn mine. Oh Christ, they won't tear. I'm losing my strength.' 'Tear them along the side seams first,' said Ducane. 'Don't drop anything, for God's sake, we'd never find it again. Here, IT hold the end, pull now, pull.' There was a faint rending sound. 'Good, good, now these, go on. Do you think that's enough? It'll stretch of course. Can you knot them? Reef knots.' 'My hands won't work,' said Pierce's voice. There was a tea;, ful tremor. 'Think about the knots, don't think about your hands. Let me – good; you've done it. Now Pierce, listen and obey me. You go up again with one end of the rope and we'll try like this. I'll have to tie it round my waist, nothing else will do. Then just pull steadily and I'll try to use my hands and feet. Be careful not to overbalance, and if I suddenly start to fall let go. And if I can't get up then that's that. Don't come down again, it's pointless and you may be too exhausted to get back. I'll take my chance when the sea comes. Now up you go.' Pierce went from him with a faint groan. In the greater noise of the water Ducane could not hear him climbing. Ducane sat himself into the hole, paying out the limp wet rope and shuddering. The movement of the rope ceased. 'Have you still got it?' said Pierce from above. 'Yes. I think I can tie it round me, there's enough.' But can I tie it, he thought? Idiotic not to have told Pierce to tie it. Very slowly he drew it round his waist and composed a knot. 'Pull now, very gently, and I'll try to climb.' It's impossible, thought Ducane, utterly impossible. The sea water out of which he had just lifted himself was knee deep. A light spray seemed to be sifting through the black air. The noise inside his head now had a metallic overwhelming quality as in the feverish nightmares of his childhood. If I could only pray, he thought, if there was only some reservoir of force out of which I could draw something extra. He sat cramped in the hole. There was not enough force in his legs to lift him even an inch from his sitting position. His legs were stiff and cold and powerless, and his naked back worked helplessly, sliding a little up, a little down, on the slimy icy rock. His slippery unclothed body hung inertly between the walls, getting no purchase, exerting no force. He thought, if I could only somehow occupy my mind it might help my body, anything, erotic imagery, anything. Something white was floating in the air in front of him, close in front of his eyes, suspended in space. The face of a woman swam in front of him, seeming to move and yet to be still like the racing moon, indistinct and yet intent, staring into his eyes. He found that he was no longer sitting but was suspended, braced between the two walls. Stay, stay, he said to the shimmering face as almost surreptitiously he paid attention to his edging feet, his braced back, and the hunched enduring frame between them. He could hear Pierce speaking above him with a disintegrated echoing wordless voice. The steady pull of the rope continued. Very very slowly Ducane edged upward. It was becoming easier. The pallid face was composing into a face that he knew. Ducane lay upon the ledge. These stars of warmth behind his closed eyes must be tears, he thought almost abstractedly. Pierce was rubbing him and trying to introduce one of his arms into the sleeve of the jersey. 'Wait, Pierce, wait, wait.' A little while later Ducane sat up. He stretched out numbed hands touching black surfaces which might have been Pierce, Mingo, rock. The sweetish powdery celestially dry smell of the white daisies was stronger. The noise below had increased, seeming circular now, circular, he thought, as if water were being hurled violently round and round a huge circular vessel. He said to Pierce, hardly recognizing his own voice, 'Can we get on from here?' 'No. I've been trying. There are crannies, but no outlet.' 'I see.' Ducane listened to the noisy sea. There was this new note. The water must be entering the foot of the chimney. 'How much time has passed, Pierce? Is it nearly high tide?' 'I don't know. I've lost all count of time. And my watch isn't luminous.' 'Neither is mine. Do you think we're above the high tide line?' 'I don't know.' 'Is it wet in here?' 'I can't tell. I've lost my feeling. Do you think it is?' Ducane began to move his hands again, trying to discern what he was touching. He felt something long and
