THE GLACIER
Even that day came to an end at last, and after a few more lumps of
yak, our tent being gone, we drew his hide over us and rested as best
we could, knowing that at least we had no more avalanches to fear. That
night it froze sharply, so that had it not been for the yak’s hide and
the other rugs and garments, which fortunately we were wearing when the
snow-slide began, it would, I think, have gone hard with us. As it was,
we suffered a great deal.
“Horace,” said Leo at the dawn, “I am going to leave this. If we have
to die, I would rather do so moving; but I don’t believe that we shall
die.”
“Very well,” I said, “let us start. If the snow won’t bear us now, it
never will.”
So we tied up our rugs and the yak’s hide in two bundles and, having cut
off some more of the frozen meat, began our descent. Now, although the
mount was under two hundred feet high, its base, fortunately for us--for
otherwise it must have been swept away by the mighty pressure of the
avalanche--was broad, so that there was a long expanse of piled-up snow
between us and the level ground.
Since, owing to the overhanging conformation of the place, it was quite
impossible for us to descend in front where pressure had made the snow
hard as stone, we were obliged to risk a march over the looser material
upon its flank. As there was nothing to be gained by waiting, off
we went, Leo leading and step by step trying the snow. To our joy we
discovered that the sharp night frost had so hardened its surface that
it would support us. About half way down, however, where the pressure
had been less, it became much softer, so that we were forced to lie
upon our faces, which enabled us to distribute our weight over a larger
surface, and thus slither gently down the hill.
All went well until we were within twenty paces of the bottom, where
we must cross a soft mound formed of the powdery dust thrown off by the
avalanche in its rush. Leo slipped over safely, but I, following a yard
or two to his right, of a sudden felt the hard crust yield beneath
me. An ill-judged but quite natural flounder and wriggle, such as a
newly-landed flat-fish gives upon the sand, completed the mischief, and
with one piercing but swiftly stifled yell, I vanished.
Any one who has ever sunk in deep water will know that the sensation
is not pleasant, but I can assure him that to go through the same
experience in soft snow is infinitely worse; mud alone could surpass its
terrors. Down I went, and down, till at length I seemed to reach a rock
which alone saved me from disappearing for ever. Now I felt the snow
closing above me and with it came darkness and a sense of suffocation.
So soft was the drift, however, that before I was overcome I contrived
with my arms to thrust away the powdery dust from about my head, thus
forming a little hollow into which air filtered slowly. Getting my hands
upon the stone, I strove to rise, but could not, the weight upon me was
too great.
Then I abandoned hope and prepared to die. The process proved not
altogether unpleasant. I did not see visions from my past life as
drowning men are supposed to do, but--and this shows how strong was her
empire over me--my mind flew back to Ayesha. I seemed to behold her and
a man at her side, standing over me in some dark, rocky gulf. She was
wrapped in a long travelling cloak, and her lovely eyes were wild with
fear. I rose to salute her, and make report, but she cried in a fierce,
concentrated voice--“What evil thing has happened here? Thou livest;
then where is my lord Leo? Speak, man, and say where thou hast hid my
lord--or die.”
The vision was extraordinarily real and vivid, I remember, and,
considered in connection with a certain subsequent event, in all ways
most remarkable, but it passed as swiftly as it came.
Then my senses left me.
I saw a light again. I heard a voice, that of Leo. “Horace,” he cried,
“Horace, hold fast to the stock of the rifle.” Something was thrust
against my outstretched hand. I gripped it despairingly, and there came
a strain. It was useless, I did not move. Then, bethinking me, I drew
up my legs and by chance or the mercy of Heaven, I know not, got my
feet against a ridge of the rock on which I was lying. Again I felt the
strain, and thrust with all my might. Of a sudden the snow gave, and out
of that hole I shot like a fox from its earth.
I struck something. It was Leo straining at the gun, and I knocked him
backwards. Then down the steep slope we rolled, landing at length upon
the very edge of the precipice. I sat up, drawing in the air with great
gasps, and oh! how sweet it was. My eyes fell upon my hand, and I saw
that the veins stood out on the back of it, black as ink and large as
cords. Clearly I must have been near my end.
“How long was I in there?” I gasped to Leo, who sat at my side, wiping
off the sweat that ran from his face in streams.
“Don’t know. Nearly twenty minutes, I should think.”
“Twenty minutes! It seemed like twenty centuries. How did you get me
out? You could not stand upon the drift dust.”
“No; I lay upon the yak skin where the snow was harder and tunnelled
towards you through the powdery stuff with my hands, for I knew where
you had sunk and it was not far off. At last I saw your finger tips;
they were so blue that for a few seconds I took them for rock, but
thrust the butt of the rifle against them. Luckily you still had life
enough to catch hold of it, and you know the rest. Were we not both very
strong, it could never have been done.”
“Thank you, old fellow,” I said simply.
“Why should you thank me?” he asked with one of his quick smiles. “Do
you suppose that I wished to continue this journey alone? Come, if you
have got your breath, let us be getting on. You have been sleeping in a
cold bed and want exercise. Look, my rifle is broken and yours is
lost in the snow. Well, it will save us the trouble of carrying the
cartridges,” and he laughed drearily.
Then we began our march, heading for the spot where the road ended four
miles or so away, for to go forward seemed useless. In due course we
reached it safely. Once a mass of snow as large as a church swept down
just in front of us, and once a great boulder loosened from the mountain
rushed at us suddenly like an attacking lion, or the stones thrown
by Polyphemus at the ship of Odysseus, and, leaping over our heads,
vanished with an angry scream into the depths beneath. But we took
little heed of these things: our nerves were deadened, and no danger
seemed to affect them.
There was the end of the road, and there were our own footprints and the
impress of the yak’s hoofs in the snow. The sight of them affected me,
for it seemed strange that we should have lived to look upon them
again. We stared over the edge of the precipice. Yes, it was sheer and
absolutely unclimbable.
“Come to the glacier,” said Leo.
So we went on to it, and scrambling a little way down its root, made an
examination. Here, so far as we could judge, the cliff was about four
hundred feet deep. But whether or no the tongue of ice reached to the
foot of it we were unable to tell, since about two thirds of the way
down it arched inwards, like the end of a bent bow, and the conformation
of the overhanging rocks on either side was such that we could not see
where it terminated. We climbed back again and sat down, and despair
took hold of us, bitter, black despair.
“What are we to do?” I asked. “In front of us death. Behind us death,
for how can we recross those mountains without food or guns to shoot
it with? Here death, for we must sit and starve. We have striven and
failed. Leo, our end is at hand. Only a miracle can save us.”
“A miracle,” he answered. “Well, what was it that led us to the top of
the mount so that we were able to escape the avalanche? And what was it
which put that rock in your way as you sank into the bed of dust, and
gave me wit and strength to dig you out of your grave of snow? And what
is it that has preserved us through seventeen years of dangers such as
few men have known and lived? Some directing Power. Some Destiny that
will accomplish itself in us. Why should the Power cease to guide? Why
should the Destiny be baulked at last?”
He paused, then added fiercely, “I tell you, Horace, that even if we had
guns, food, and yaks, I would not turn back upon our spoor, since to do
so would prove me a coward and unworthy of her. I will go on.”
“How?” I asked.
“By that road,” and he pointed to the glacier.
“It is a road to death!”
“Well, if so, Horace, it would seem that in this land men find life in
death, or so they believe. If we die now, we shall die travelling our
path, and in the country where we perish we may be born again. At least
I am determined, so you must choose.”
“I have chosen long ago. Leo, we began this journey together and we will
end it together. Perhaps Ayesha knows and will help us,” and I laughed
drearily. “If not--come, we are wasting time.”
Then we took counsel, and the end of it was that we cut a skin rug and
the yak’s tough hide into strips and knotted these together into two
serviceable ropes, which we fastened about our middles, leaving one end
loose, for we thought that they might help us in our descent.
Next we bound fragments of another skin rug about our legs and knees
to protect them from the chafing of the ice and rocks, and for the same
reason put on our thick leather gloves. This done, we took the remainder
of our gear and heavy robes and, having placed stones in them, threw
them over the brink of the precipice, trusting to find them again,
should we ever reach its foot. Now our preparations were complete,
and it was time for us to start upon perhaps one of the most desperate
journeys ever undertaken by men of their own will.
Yet we stayed a little, looking at each other in piteous fashion, for
we could not speak. Only we embraced, and I confess, I think I wept
a little. It all seemed so sad and hopeless, these longings endured
through many years, these perpetual, weary travellings, and now--the
end. I could not bear to think of that splendid man, my ward, my most
dear friend, the companion of my life, who stood before me so full of
beauty and of vigour, but who must within a few short minutes be turned
into a heap of quivering, mangled flesh. For myself it did not matter.
I was old, it was time that I should die. I had lived innocently, if it
were innocent to follow this lovely image, this Siren of the caves, who
lured us on to doom.
No, I don’t think that I thought of myself then, but I thought a great
deal of Leo, and when I saw his determined face and flashing eyes as he
nerved himself to the last endeavour, I was proud of him. So in broken
accents I blessed him and wished him well through all the aeons, praying
that I might be his companion to the end of time. In few words and short
he thanked me and gave me back my blessing. Then he muttered--“Come.”
So side by side we began the terrible descent. At first it was easy
enough, although a slip would have hurled us to eternity. But we were
strong and skilful, accustomed to such places moreover, and made none.
About a quarter of the way down we paused, standing upon a great boulder
that was embedded in the ice, and, turning round cautiously, leaned our
backs against the glacier and looked about us. Truly it was a horrible
place, almost sheer, nor did we learn much, for beneath us, a hundred
and twenty feet or more, the projecting bend cut off our view of what
lay below.
So, feeling that our nerves would not bear a prolonged contemplation of
that dizzy gulf, once more we set our faces to the ice and proceeded on
the downward climb. Now matters were more difficult, for the stones were
fewer and once or twice we must slide to reach them, not knowing if we
should ever stop again. But the ropes which we threw over the angles
of the rocks, or salient points of ice, letting ourselves down by their
help and drawing them after us when we reached the next foothold, saved
us from disaster.
Thus at length we came to the bend, which was more than half way down
the precipice, being, so far as I could judge, about two hundred and
fifty feet from its lip, and say one hundred and fifty from the darksome
bottom of the narrow gulf. Here were no stones, but only some rough ice,
on which we sat to rest.
“We must look,” said Leo presently.
But the question was, how to do this. Indeed, there was only one way,
to hang over the bend and discover what lay below. We read each other’s
thought without the need of words, and I made a motion as though I would
start.
“No,” said Leo, “I am younger and stronger than you. Come, help me,” and
he began to fasten the end of his rope to a strong, projecting point of
ice. “Now,” he said, “hold my ankles.”
It seemed an insanity, but there was nothing else to be done, so, fixing
my heels in a niche, I grasped them and slowly he slid forward till his
body vanished to the middle. What he saw does not matter, for I saw it
all afterwards, but what happened was that suddenly all his great weight
came upon my arms with such a jerk that his ankles were torn from my
grip.
Or, who knows! perhaps in my terror I loosed them, obeying the natural
impulse which prompts a man to save his own life. If so, may I be
forgiven, but had I held on, I must have been jerked into the abyss.
Then the rope ran out and remained taut.
“Leo!” I screamed, “Leo!” and I heard a muffled voice saying, as I
thought, “Come.” What it really said was--“Don’t come.” But indeed--and
may it go to my credit--I did not pause to think, but face outwards,
just as I was sitting, began to slide and scramble down the ice.
In two seconds I had reached the curve, in three I was over it. Beneath
was what I can only describe as a great icicle broken off short, and
separated from the cliff by about four yards of space. This icicle was
not more than fifteen feet in length and sloped outwards, so that my
descent was not sheer. Moreover, at the end of it the trickling of
water, or some such accident, had worn away the ice, leaving a little
ledge as broad, perhaps, as a man’s hand. There were roughnesses on the
surface below the curve, upon which my clothing caught, also I gripped
them desperately with my fingers. Thus it came about that I slid down
quite gently and, my heels landing upon the little ledge, remained
almost upright, with outstretched arms--like a person crucified to a
cross of ice.
Then I saw everything, and the sight curdled the blood within my veins.
Hanging to the rope, four or five feet below the broken point, was Leo,
out of reach of it, and out of reach of the cliff; as he hung turning
slowly round and round, much as--for in a dreadful, inconsequent fashion
the absurd similarity struck me even then--a joint turns before the
fire. Below yawned the black gulf, and at the bottom of it, far, far
beneath, appeared a faint, white sheet of snow. That is what I saw.
Think of it! Think of it! I crucified upon the ice, my heels resting
upon a little ledge; my fingers grasping excrescences on which a bird
could scarcely have found a foothold; round and below me dizzy space.
To climb back whence I came was impossible, to stir even was impossible,
since one slip and I must be gone.
And below me, hung like a spider to its cord, Leo turning slowly round
and round!
I could see that rope of green hide stretch beneath his weight and the
double knots in it slip and tighten, and I remember wondering which
would give first, the hide or the knots, or whether it would hold till
he dropped from the noose limb by limb.
Oh! I have been in many a perilous place, I who sprang from the Swaying
Stone to the point of the Trembling Spur, and missed my aim, but never,
never in such a one as this. Agony took hold of me; a cold sweat burst
from every pore. I could feel it running down my face like tears; my
hair bristled upon my head. And below, in utter silence, Leo turned
round and round, and each time he turned his up-cast eyes met mine with
a look that was horrible to see.
The silence was the worst of it, the silence and the helplessness. If
he had cried out, if he had struggled, it would have been better. But
to know that he was alive there, with every nerve and perception at its
utmost stretch. Oh! my God! Oh! my God!
My limbs began to ache, and yet I dared not stir a muscle. They
ached horribly, or so I thought, and beneath this torture, mental and
physical, my mind gave.
I remembered things: remembered how, as a child, I had climbed a tree
and reached a place whence I could move neither up nor down, and what I
suffered then. Remembered how once in Egypt a foolhardy friend of mine
had ascended the Second Pyramid alone, and become thus crucified upon
its shining cap, where he remained for a whole half hour with four
hundred feet of space beneath him. I could see him now stretching his
stockinged foot downwards in a vain attempt to reach the next crack, and
drawing it back again; could see his tortured face, a white blot upon
the red granite.
Then that face vanished and blackness gathered round me, and in
the blackness visions: of the living, resistless avalanche, of the
snow-grave into which I had sunk--oh! years and years ago; of Ayesha
demanding Leo’s life at my hands. Blackness and silence, through which I
could only hear the cracking of my muscles.
Suddenly in the blackness a flash, and in the silence a sound. The flash
was the flash of a knife which Leo had drawn. He was hacking at the cord
with it fiercely, fiercely, to make an end. And the sound was that of
the noise he made, a ghastly noise, half shout of defiance and half yell
of terror, as at the third stroke it parted.
I saw it part. The tough hide was half cut through, and its severed
portion curled upwards and downwards like the upper and lower lips of an
angry dog, whilst that which was unsevered stretched out slowly, slowly,
till it grew quite thin. Then it snapped, so that the rope flew upwards
and struck me across the face like the lash of a whip.
Another instant and I heard a crackling, thudding sound. Leo had struck
the ground below. Leo was dead, a mangled mass of flesh and bone as I
had pictured him. I could not bear it. My nerve and human dignity came
back. I would not wait until, my strength exhausted, I slid from my
perch as a wounded bird falls from a tree. No, I would follow him at
once, of my own act.
I let my arms fall against my sides, and rejoiced in the relief from
pain that the movement gave me. Then balanced upon my heels, I stood
upright, took my last look at the sky, muttered my last prayer. For an
instant I remained thus poised.
Shouting, “I come,” I raised my hands above my head and dived as a
bather dives, dived into the black gulf beneath.