Survivor: The Autobiography Part 13

But at midnight I was still waiting, and asked myself for the hundredth time that inevitable question: 'What the h.e.l.l are they doing up there?'

In desperation, I put on an extra sweater under my overalls, lay down on a slab of rock, extinguished my lamp, and tried to sleep. Levi's descent must have been postponed for some good reason until tomorrow.

At 2 a.m., as I tossed and turned on my rocky bed, there was a feeble cry far up in the shaft. Half an hour later Robert Levi touched down. At last! I had been expecting him for fifteen hours, and had almost given up hope. He told me that he had been delayed time after time, but had determined to get down, no matter what the cost.

Sunday, 8 August Returning to the bivouac at about 9 a.m., we were able to phone the surface; for the cable had not been wound up again since Levi's arrival. When the time came for its departure, we again unrolled the guide-wire. Again it broke, leaving us in isolation!

We were resigned to our situation, hoping the cable would reach its destination before long, and certain of our programme. Delteil was to come down next; he had volunteered for the delicate and unpleasant task of bringing down the metal coffin . . .

At about 8 o'clock that evening a small avalanche of stones informed us of Delteil's approach.

Flushed with excitement after his memorable journey, Delteil was magnificent. He had battled all alone in the great shaft for three hours, and looked like a poilu at Verdun, with feverish eyes, his face lined with fatigue, his harness in disorder, his overalls torn, and one of his hands bleeding.

Our next job was to bear the coffin to the tomb. After slipping and stumbling from top to bottom of the slope, we got it into position ready for the exhumation, which was to take place as soon as we were joined by Dr Mairey and Louis Ballandraux, who would not be down until tomorrow. It was now 11 p.m. We had done enough for one day, and therefore withdrew, dead-beat, to a little tent which was scarcely large enough for three. Although packed like sardines, we were soon fast asleep.

Monday, 9 August I awoke with a feeling that it was time to get up, and took a peep at my companions. Delteil, as usual was snoring hard, but Levi, to judge by his breathing, was awake.

'Levi, what's the time?' I whispered, switching on my torch discreetly veiled in a handkerchief.

My neighbour stretched himself, looked at his wrist.w.a.tch, and then put it sharply to his ear. 'It says 11 o'clock, but it's not going,' he replied. 'It must have stopped last evening.'

I had left my watch in a suit of overalls that were in my haversack, and this lay some distance from the tent which was too small to hold anything but us three. Having extricated myself from my sleeping-bag, I crawled out of the tent, pulled on my boots, and eventually retrieved my watch. Good heavens! . . . yes; the second-hand was moving, so the thing had definitely not stopped.

'Guess,' I said to Levi.

'It's at least 8 o'clock in the morning,' he answered.

'Don't be absurd,' protested Delteil, who had just woken up. 'It's the dead of night!'

'Dead dark, certainly,' I rejoined, 'but believe me or not, it's midday!'

Neither of them would believe me at first; they thought I was joking. But it was a fact; down there in the chasm, where the temperature was no more than 7 Fahrenheit and the humidity 100 per cent, we had slept fully clothed in a tiny tent for thirteen hours! None of us had ever done anything like it, and we fell to discussing so memorable a feat. We were cut short by a formidable shower of stones.

'Hark! there's someone on the stairs,' said Levi quietly.

'Another bloke dropping in for lunch,' added Delteil.

We hurried immediately to the bivouac, where Louis Ballandraux had just touched down, carrying two outsize kitbags in addition to his normal load.

During the afternoon we were joined by Doctor Mairey, who brought his medicine-chest, several pairs of rubber gloves, and various accessories. We now prepared to carry out the work of exhumation, and were shortly afterwards gathered at the tomb. In that unstable ma.s.s of rock, it took us several hours to construct a horizontal platform on which to lay the container and walk about.

There were only four pairs of gloves, so it was agreed that Delteil, who had badly lacerated hands, should be excused from touching the body. At 6 p.m. we began demolishing stone by stone, the great tumulus beneath which Marcel had been lying for two years, arrayed, as he had fallen, like a medieval knight. He wore his helmet, and, in place of the sword, a torch lay on his breast.

At 9 p.m., exhausted with fatigue and emotion, we removed our gloves. Delteil screwed down the lid, and we put forth what was left of our strength and determination to drag the heavy coffin to a point immediately below the shaft where in due course it could be attached to the end of the cable.

We had fulfilled our task, and it was now the turn of those who were to prepare the shaft for the container's upward journey. Lepineux and Bidegain went down to 257, Labeyrie and Rossini to 699. It had been calculated that their job would take two days.

The preparation of the balconies consisted in erecting near the rim of each a metal lattice girder 6 feet 6 inches long. These were meant to steer the container clear of overhangs, and thus avoid it becoming hung up or jammed in a crevice events which might prove dangerous if not disastrous. Each girder was made of duralumin sections (another of Lepineux's ideas), and was fitted at its base with a spindle enabling it to swing from side to side, and at the opposite end with a stout wooden pulley to facilitate the cable's pa.s.sage. Numerous stays, carefully placed and tightly stretched, a.s.sured the firmness and rigidity of the girder. Driving pitons into the rocky walls, in situations no less perilous than inconvenient, was a job whose difficulty was increased by the fact that our men were obliged to work beneath small but icy-cold cascades, consequent upon a series of violent storms which had transformed the shaft into an aqueduct. It was even necessary on several occasions to interrupt the work and hurriedly bring up the teams for fear of lightning, which is attracted by potholes. The long steel cable hanging in the shaft would prove a dangerous conductor. On the evening of the exhumation, after pitching a tent for Mairey and Ballandraux, we were roused from sleep at about midnight by the roll of thunder which grew minute by minute; and the cascade in the shaft, swollen by an exceptionally heavy downpour, allowed us a glimpse of its awful possibilities. At the same time, another sound, even more alarming, rose from the depths. This was the subterranean torrent in flood, growling below the chaos of rock. Hence the internal changes of the chasm those traces of extensive flooding which we observed last year, and the collapse of boulders. The whole place roared, vibrated, and there were falls of stone. Pierre Saint-Martin was in labour; we were in a living chasm in full process of evolution.

Lying in absolute darkness, wrapped in our sleeping-bags under the frail and illusory shelter of our canvas tents, the consciousness of our weak and helpless state in the presence of this awful demonstration taught us an eloquent lesson of humility.

All things considered, we were lucky to escape with nothing worse than a restless night. Mairey and Ballandraux were in worse danger than the rest for their tent was pitched on a stretch of gravel, clearly the bed of a river which might at any moment have reappeared but was, in fact, absorbed by its own deposit before reaching our camp.

Tuesday, 10 August At 9 a.m. I went up to the bivouac with Louis Ballandraux who had brought down a wireless transmitter and was anxious to establish communication with the surface, for the telephone was still cut off. He managed to converse with Fr. Attout, thanks largely to the cable, which had been lowered to 699 and served as a conductor for the waves between that point and the outside world. Among other things, we learned that Mauer would be joining us later in the day. He landed at noon, carrying another two kitbags and a large roll of telephone-wire. Levi, as chief of the expedition, was now required on the surface; he went up trailing this after him, and we looked forward to re-establishing contact with those above.

In the normal course of events three more of us would have followed Levi without further delay; only two men would be needed to attach the coffin to the cable and a.s.sist at its take-off when the moment arrived. As it was, however, we had other plans.

We had been categorically forbidden to do any more exploring, and were supposed to limit our activities to recovering Loubens's body. From the very start we had considered these instructions as an unjustifiable abuse of authority; we had signed no undertaking, and it was therefore with an easy conscience that I decided upon my own responsibility to ignore them.

The finding of this pothole had been the climax of a search begun by E. A. Martel in 1908, and continued at intervals between 1925 and 1950 by the Groupe Speleologique de la Pierre Saint-Martin led by Max Cosyns and myself. Lepineux had actually made the discovery; Loubens, another member of the group, had died here; and Dr Mairey had been the victim of what might easily have been a fatal accident. So Pierre Saint-Martin was in a very real sense 'ours', and to go home without trying to explore upstream would have been a miserable surrender of our rights. In any case, we could not have restrained the determination of fellows like Mairey, Mauer and Ballandraux. Besides, to finish the job was surely the n.o.blest honour we could render to poor Loubens's memory.

A party set out at 4 o'clock in the afternoon; it consisted of Mairey, Ballandraux and Mauer. I stayed behind with Delteil, one of whose hands had been badly lacerated.

I had no fears as I watched the other three disappear from sight. All were highly trained and well-tried speleologists.

Our companions had been gone an hour when I climbed that ma.s.s of cyclopean boulders in the Salle Lepineux which they had now left behind, and through which Mairey and I had begun our journey upstream (due south into Spanish territory) twelve months ago. My immediate purpose was to revisit a platform of rock where I knew there was a colony of diptera, a kind of mosquito. Lost in this immensity, they had for some unknown cause, taken up residence just here, where I soon found them. Isolated from one another, and quite motionless, they look so easy to catch, but as soon as you approach with a light, they scurry sideways over the rock like crabs. When they become conscious of imminent danger, they take to flight and then you begin to appreciate their unwillingness to use their wings. They are poor flyers, with an uncertain, dipping movement; and they soon come to rest on the floor or on another rock, but always below their starting-point. Their clumsy flight is due, of course, to atrophy of the wings consequent upon their surroundings, and I have no doubt that in another few thousand years these strange mosquitoes of Pierre Saint-Martin will be wingless. The few that I caught were destined for the microscopes in the Musee de Paris.

During my stroll I came across a short strip of Scotch-light, a piece of cloth treated with reflecting material in the form of powdered catadioptric gla.s.s. It was a guide-mark left by Mairey and his companions. These objects, when strategically placed, enable one to go ahead without fear of losing one's way on the return journey through the complicated maze of debris. I followed the trail of these guideposts until I heard the voices of my friends. They were looking for a road to the head-waters, but repeatedly found their pa.s.sage blocked by boulders reaching to the ceiling. I felt certain, as they did, that once they had overcome these difficulties, and pierced some gap in the wall, they would find the chasm extended for some considerable distance.

I returned to the bivouac. Delteil was busy patching his overalls; they had suffered badly during his descent with the container and were actually in rags. We employ somewhat original tailoring methods at Pierre Saint-Martin; holes are made in the material with the point of a knife, and telephone-wire takes the place of thread. While Delteil was thus engaged I sat on the ground beside him and made a few entries in my notebook. Suddenly we heard a noise high up in the shaft, as of someone falling. It grew louder; and as we ducked, a body landed with a terrifying crash at a distance of 13 or 14 feet on the debris slope. From there it rolled out of sight. Horror-struck and trembling, we jumped up and hurried down to find the unhappy man who had just been killed before our very eyes. Delteil pulled up sharply and bent over a contorted ma.s.s. Then he stood erect with a shout of laughter. Thank G.o.d! The victim of that dreadful fall was only a large kitbag which had escaped from its owner at 699 and fallen 436 feet to the bottom. It had burst open, and we picked up a number of articles, including a camera (which as you may guess, was useless). We knew then that the bag belonged to Vergnes. Having recovered from the shock, we resumed our peaceful if trivial occupations.

Presently Robert Vergnes himself came down and joined us. His arrival was far more sedate than that of his kitbag. Mairey, Mauer and Ballandraux returned soon afterwards, pleased with their reconnaissance and tremendously excited. They had managed with some difficulty to pa.s.s the danger zone, where rocks and ceiling met, and found, as I had predicted, that the gigantic wilderness of rock extended much farther.

Our commandos had done a fine job, and had turned back in order to make their report. I was thrilled, and determined to lead a party on the following day as far as it was possible to go.

Wednesday, 11 August This was to be the day of days if one may speak of 'day' in places where there is no dawn. It would provide an answer to that question we had left unanswered for a year: did the chasm reach into Spanish territory; and if so, how far?

Pierre Saint-Martin consists of a shaft, 1,135 feet deep, giving access to an enormous cavity through which flows a subterranean river. In 1953 we had travelled downstream for a distance of nearly two miles and to a depth of 2,388 feet in French territory. How far would we get today, through the chaos of its head-waters, into Spain?

The whole team, excepting Vergnes and Delteil, set off at 8 a.m. We expected to be absent for at least a day, perhaps two if all went well. On leaving the bivouac we had to climb in heavy kit up that mountain of boulders, which stands at the near end of the Salle Lepineux, and then descend the opposite face, guided by Scotch-lights which Mairey had laid yesterday. Presently the doctor pointed out one of these signposts lying on a rock which was not on our present track. It was of a pattern used last year, and I recognized it as marking the spot where he and I had forced our way into the heart of the wilderness.

Mairey smiled as we pa.s.sed that Scotch-light which had so nearly marked the end of his career as a speleologist; and before long we reached the summit of a rise which we had to descend with the help of an electron ladder. This manoeuvre brought us out from the labyrinth into a colossal chamber, so vast and tortuous that we could make out neither its size nor its shape. It was perfectly stupendous, exceeding all conceivable dimensions, far transcending human architecture.

'Since we are now in Spain,' I said, 'let us call this prodigious chamber "Salle de Navarre"; territorially the name is correct, and it will be a gesture towards our Spanish friends who had hoped to be with us on this occasion.'

I have travelled a good deal in Spain, especially in the mountainous province of Navarre, but I can safely say that I have never seen in the whole of the Peninsula so wild a stretch of country as that through which we now advanced by lamplight. Here Earth's structure, which so fascinates Delteil, is set forth on the grandest scale. The journey became so arduous and complicated that we had to make alternate use of ropes and wire ladders in order to negotiate precipice-roads or steep cliffs.

Mauer was lagging behind when he suddenly called for help. We turned round and saw him kneeling, apparently in difficulties on the sloping ground. But there was nothing wrong; he was interested in something quite different from the recovery of his balance. Considering this fearful desert of rock, his eyesight was most remarkable, for he had noticed an insect a superb Aphaenops Loubensi which Mairey recognized as a giant of the species. Taking from his entomologist's pack a small wet paintbrush, he caught the beetle, and put it in a tube of alcohol. It was the fifth specimen to fall into our hands in two years. Animal life, of course, does not abound here; conditions are too severe to make existence anything but precarious.

We should really have been gaining height, since we were travelling upstream. In point of fact, however, we had spent most of our time going downhill. Ballandraux was walking ahead; or rather he was tumbling and jumping from rock to rock, for the ground seemed to consist mainly of pits, fissures and creva.s.ses. He had just made a neat landing on top of a great tubular rock, when we realized with horror that the thing had begun to swing forwards. Then, as in a dream, we saw Ballandraux raised higher and higher into the air. Here was an example of those swaying boulders known as 'Crazy Stones'.

Having recovered from his surprise, Ballandraux purposely renewed the see-saw movement, the effect of which was amplified by the height and ma.s.s of the rock. We called 1 'Roche Ballandraux', and each enjoyed a spell of its majestic oscillation.

We might also have exercised the privilege of pioneers and named the huge gallery through which we now proceeded over jagged ground. Our attention, however, was riveted upon the difficulties of progress and of finding our direction, so that we had neither the leisure nor the freedom of imagination to a.s.sign names and t.i.tles to the places through which we pa.s.sed.

At this point the torrent flows quite close to the surface, but is still hidden by great boulders beneath which you can hear it rumbling. We were already moving uphill; but the way before us involved an exhausting climb to the level of the ceiling, so we decided to call a halt and have some lunch. Nearby was a small cascade, issuing from the wall; it was a tributary of the main stream, but with a temperature of 7 Fahrenheit it was not much use for diluting the concentrated milk, of which Mairey had produced several tubes from his haversack. I proceeded to distribute pieces of sausage, which Ballandraux cut into rounds with the blade of a metal saw. Having no bread, we rounded off our meal with two packets of dry cake, and then moved on. Presently my companions led me into a narrow pa.s.sage, on the ceiling of which there were numerous stalact.i.tes which did not greatly impress me. I told them so quite frankly; they were shocked, and put me down as blase!

Yesterday's journey had ended at this point. But the system extended farther in undiminished grandeur; the way continued rough and downhill. We now separated, and each took a different path in order to check up on and eliminate blind alleys. After several reconnaissances and a brief council of war at the rallying point, it was clear that Mauer had found the right track. We followed him over some very rough ground into a winding corridor where we found the river. We advanced first on one bank and then on the other, sometimes on natural bridges and perilous overhangs. It was a strenuous and exciting journey, and we longed to know where it would lead us. At every bend, at every barrier of rock, we quickened our pace to seek what might lie beyond, and to a.s.sure ourselves that yet more distant perspectives opened out beneath those mysterious vaults. So far, however, we had kept our heads. The obstacle which now met our gaze was enough to daunt the bravest of the brave.

We had been walking for some minutes on banks that narrowed steadily above foaming rapids. Suddenly the river became deep, and flowed between vertical walls of smooth rock. We could go no farther, except by swimming in that icy water at a temperature of about 20 F, sufficient to cool the most determined hot-head! We had no collapsible boat, not even a raft; but we managed to balance ourselves on an isthmus of rock, which enabled us to advance a few yards and ascertain that 40 or 50 feet beyond that point the stream made a right-angled bend; its far bank was a sheer wall of stone. Considering its enormous width elsewhere, this section of the gallery was relatively small 16 or 20 feet wide by about 13 feet in height. The contraction set up a violent current of cold air, a regular hurricane, which pierced us to the bone, extinguished our lamps, and churned the surface of the water. This wind, blowing at gale force, proves that the cavern extends for a great distance upstream; but the depth of the river const.i.tutes an impa.s.sable barrier unless one has means of navigation. We had come as far as would be possible this year.

We had already started to retrace our steps, when I caught sight of a corridor running upstream and parallel with the river. I hurried in, hoping against hope that it might by-pa.s.s the deep water; but after walking for about 55 yards, I found that the ceiling came down to meet the floor while the walls huddled closer together. 'It's a cul-de-sac! There's no road here,' I shouted back to my companions who were ferreting about in a maze of secondary pa.s.sages.

'Casteret! Come and look. Here are some wonderful stalact.i.tes.'

It was Mairey's voice. Stalact.i.tes! Fancy thinking about stalact.i.tes when we had just been brought to a halt in the most incredible cavern I had ever seen! Sadly, I turned back, conquered by deep water on one side and by a cul-de-sac on the other. My three companions, on the other hand, seemed already to have forgotten their disappointment; they were talking excitedly and admiring their 'wonderful stalact.i.tes'.

'Casteret, do come here,' Mairey insisted, 'and tell us what you think of them.' I rejoined them, feeling not a little sceptical. In fact, I was in no mood to share their enthusiasm. But on raising my eyes to the ceiling, I quickly changed my tune. 'Good for you!' I cried, 'they're magnificent, extraordinary.' It is impossible to describe an outcrop of helict.i.tes; perfection is always indescribable. But as an expert crystallographer, who has visited more than one thousand caves, I unhesitatingly award the prize for rarity and delicacy to the stalact.i.tes of Pierre Saint-Martin.

It was growing late. We cast a final glance at the helict.i.tes, a final glance too at the deep water, and resumed our journey. At one stage Ballandraux, having unpacked his drawing pad, compa.s.ses and pencil, proceeded to map the chasm. Mairey and Mauer went ahead with the lamp upon which our surveyor based his readings. I stayed behind for the time being to give him light and a helping hand in awkward places. Between the four of us we worked out approximate distances and contours. Our reckoning was probably not far out, especially as sights were for the most part fairly short.

Our journey through the Salle de Navarre gave rise to some differences of opinion as to its real dimensions. In order to clear the matter up, I undertook a solitary excursion which led me over ridges of rock, gigantic crags, and 'Crazy Stones' that seemed ready to crash down at any moment. Finally, I lost myself in a veritable labyrinth of boulders, the end of which I could not see; and it was some time before I succeeded in rejoining my companions who, in spite of the Scotch-lights, had resorted once again to hair-raising feats of acrobatics in order to escape from the labyrinth.

We returned to the bivouac at 6 p.m. after a forced march and a regular display of acrobatics. It had taken us eight hours to cover the 1 miles there and back, which should give some idea of the difficulties involved. The cavern extended for 1,100 yards into Spanish territory; and that distance added to two miles on the French side, gives a 4,620-yard stretch of uninterrupted chaos so far explored.

Delteil and Vergnes, who had anxiously awaited the result of our expedition, informed us that work in the shaft was more or less up to schedule, although it was proving a most delicate and awkward business. It seemed, then, that the entire chasm had been a hive of activity. We sat around the oven and chatted while our one hot meal of the day was cooking.

But our joy and satisfaction was tempered by the presence of the coffin which shone through the gloom. It had never ceased to dominate our thoughts.

Thursday, 12 August Early this morning there was much ado in the tent occupied by Mairey, Mauer and Ballandraux. They rose, dressed, trimmed their acetylene lamps, drew their rations, and prepared to set off. The three of them were going to revisit the bottom of the chasm, which some of us had reached in 1953. Dr Mairey, who had formed one of the party on that occasion, and was therefore acquainted with the road, would take charge now. The newcomers, Mauer and Ballandraux, had been longing to make the journey; but this was to be more than just a pleasure-trip, and before they started I ran over the subjects upon which they were to make notes: topography, temperature, humidity, air currents, barometric pressure, and biology. They were also to take photographs.

Vergnes was bitterly disappointed that he was not going with them, but his camera was out of action, so he could do nothing in the way of making a film. He was to return to the surface some time this morning. The cable would soon be lowered, for we had been informed by telephone that someone else was coming down to join us. He arrived an hour later, and Vergnes went up almost immediately. Our visitor was Fr. Jacques Attout, who with Lorian of Charleroi formed the Belgian element which we always included in our Group. He confirmed Delteil's news that preparation of the balconies was well advanced in spite of difficulties. Numerous pitons were required to secure the girders, but storms on the surface were delaying work, which had frequently to be broken off. This year's campaign had been inaugurated under the sign of foul weather.

Fr. Attout and I traversed the Salle Lepineux from end to end and from side to side. Looking down into the shaft which gives access to the Salle Elizabeth Casteret, we saw a wire ladder; Mairey, Mauer and Ballandraux had fixed it there earlier in the day. An icy wind howled ceaselessly in this place, and was no encouragement to stay for long, so we returned to the bivouac where Delteil mounted solitary guard at the telephone.

'Father, there's a message for you,' he said as we approached.

'What about?'

'Your bishop has appointed you parish priest of some out-of-the-way place I've forgotten its name.'

It was perfectly true; so you see the Pierre Saint-Martin telephone had its uses when it worked!

At about 7 p.m. Fr. Attout unpacked a small case containing his priestly vestments, an altar stone, a chalice and other necessities for the celebration of ma.s.s. The altar was an irregular slab of rock. The servers wedged themselves uncomfortably between a vertical wall and a heap of boulders; Delteil lit the two small candles, and I laid the tiny cruets at my feet. Over his alb, etc. the priest donned a beautiful white chasuble with green orphreys; it was almost startling amid that wild, dark scenery. But if the altar was a wretched makeshift affair, and if we ourselves were ragged, dirty and unshaven after a week underground, 'it is the spirit that quickeneth'.

The celebrant told us that he was going to offer the Holy Sacrifice for the repose of Marcel Loubens's soul and for the success of the dangerous undertaking to which we had pledged ourselves. Ma.s.s then began, the coffin lying only a few feet from the altar.

An hour later Mairey's team came back, haggard and exhausted, but flushed with success. They had carried out their programme in full: having crossed the seven huge chambers and travelled more than 3 miles through an unimaginable chaos, they had reached the bottom of the cavern where the altimeter confirmed last year's reading of 2,388 feet.

Friday, 13 August I spent a restless night. At midnight and 1 a.m. Bidegain phoned to keep me informed of progress. At 2 o'clock he told me that work on the balconies was complete. Between then and 6 a.m. the men responsible for this achievement were raised to the surface. It was now the turn of those at the bottom, excepting two who were to attach the container to the cable and guide it past the great boulders of the Salle Lepineux after the take-off.

We had much difficulty with the cable on its downward journey, in spite of the guide-wire which was handled from below. Over and over again it became entangled on projections of rock, and had to be pulled this way and that before it was freed. At long last, however, it was in position, and I prepared to leave the cavern.

I had spent hours of alternate joy and sorrow, but one decision had yet to be made: what to do with a small crucifix hanging on the wall. On 13 August 1952, as Marcel lay dying at the bottom of the shaft, Father Atauri, a Spanish priest from San Sebastian who was among a crowd of spectators on the surface, had detached this cross from his rosary and asked Dr Mairey to lay it on the stretcher. Mairey had in fact nailed it to the wall nearby, and it had hung there ever since a lonely symbol in the waste of that tremendous chasm. I was aware that it belonged to a rosary given to Fr. Atauri by his mother and of great sentimental value in his eyes, so I took it down and slipped it into my pocket-book.

At 2 o'clock in the afternoon I linked the snap-hook of my harness to the cable, gave the signal by telephone, and felt myself raised from the ground, turning, swaying in mid-air. On this my seventh consecutive day underground, I had reason to feel satisfied, but I was distinctly off-colour after that long sojourn in a cold, damp atmosphere, during which my diet had been, to say the least, unorthodox. Lack of sunlight, on the other hand, which is often supposed to cause la.s.situde and even claustrophobia, had had no ill effects. My eyesight had, if anything, improved; I had the vision of a cat by night.

Within fifty minutes I was out of the shaft, standing in bright sunshine beneath an azure sky. Willing hands stripped me of my harness; I climbed those last few yards of rope-ladder, and sat down by the winding-gear. Queffelec was still at the helm, cheerful, confident, and bold as bra.s.s. Nearby was a party of girls dressed in shorts, members of a holiday-camp, who eyed me with unfeigned curiosity from top to toe. Unwashed, unshaven, my drawn face smeared with clay, and overalls in shreds, I must have seemed to them a miserable specimen of humanity. Questions crowded one upon another, but I have only the haziest recollection of that half-hour.

I then strolled up to the camp, and was greeted at the cookhouse by Henri Perillous, who gave me the first proper meal I had been able to enjoy since entering the chasm. I returned to the winch and saw Henri Brosset go down to help Ballandraux attach the coffin. Delteil was then hauled to the surface, followed by Mairey. Father Attout was delayed by a tremendous storm which obliged us to postpone operations until next day.

Sat.u.r.day, 14 August Fr. Attout came up at 6 a.m. during a hailstorm and in dense fog. Mauer was then hauled to the balcony at 699; Lepineux and Bidegain went down to join him.

This was Judgement Day, to which we had looked forward with hope and yet with dread. My thoughts were with Lepineux, Mauer and Bidegain making their last inspection of the gear. Queffelec adjusted his engine and the winch. It was almost zero hour. Levi, wearing earphones, spoke hurriedly with the lads at 699, and then with the Salle Lepineux. Labeyrie crouched over the radio, ready to take over if the telephone should fail. Ballandraux and Brosset had just attached the cable to the head of the container, and the girder at 699 was in position. The stage was set.

At exactly 5 p.m. Levi pa.s.sed Lepineux's signal to the engineers, and Queffelec threw his engine into gear. The rise of tension was alarming; the machinery vibrated and slipped, the dynamometer showed 1,100 lb. But the container was off the ground, clear of the huge boulders, and was rising slowly. Every available member of the party stood by, as well as a few journalists. There were about fifteen of us all told, huddling together round the winch beneath the shelter of a canvas awning, while rain and hail poured down in torrents, driven by great gusts of wind. In spite of the weather, our attention was concentrated entirely upon the dynamometer and upon the cable as it wound slowly on the drum. We dare not speak. All eyes turned towards Queffelec whose smile had given place to a grim and anxious look. Gradually, however, he relaxed; his countenance cleared, and he gave his a.s.sistant Isola a friendly pat on the back.

'Well, it's coming up all right,' he said.

Yes, it was coming up all right. Progress was slow and painful, but it was progress, and our faces showed a lessening of fear.

We had regarded this phase of the journey as most critical; the initial haul had counted for so much, and the container had seemed at that moment so very far away. On second thoughts, however, the situation appeared different. Until now the manoeuvre had involved no danger of contact with the walls . . . The dynamometer jerked several times and startled us.

'It's nothing,' said Levi. 'It's b.u.mping against the wall every now and again, but there's worse than that to come.'

Holding the receiver of his telephone to the loudspeaker, he enabled us to hear the dismal sound of the container; it resembled a cracked bell. He spoke again into the mouthpiece: 'Approaching 699. h.e.l.lo, Lepineux! Let me know as soon as you catch sight of it.'

'I see nothing yet; there's that sea of cloud below us . . . oh yes! Here it comes, like a ghost out of the mist.'

There was a dull, heavy sound; the container was in contact with the girder, and a few seconds later it had cleared that dangerous overhang. Lepineux and Mauer had had some anxious moments. One of the pitons had come loose; the girder had leaned over, and they had to use all their strength to avoid an accident and, perhaps, disaster.

The container was now dragged on to the balcony and made fast while Lepineux unhooked the cable and attached it to his own harness. Bidegain followed; they were going up to 257 to help with the remainder of the operation. Mauer was to remain alone at 699 and re-attach the container as soon as the cable had been lowered. His situation was fraught with peril. If there were a fall of stones, if the cable snapped, or if some other untoward incident occurred, he would be in the direct line of fire.

Lepineux had joined Bidegain and Rossini at 257 and together they made final preparations for the arrival and reception of the container. On the surface, bad weather continued unabated; we were drenched to the skin and buffeted by an icy gale. The Spanish carabiniers, of their charity and unasked, brought us great logs of dead pine wood. They managed also to light a brazier which bore us company throughout that night.

All subterranean work is terribly slow and complicated, and it was some time before the cable was lowered again and Mauer attached it to the nose of the container. Fortunately the telephone was working well; all messages were pa.s.sed and repeated between 699, 257, and the winch. The next stage of the journey could begin. But just as Levi was about to give Queffelec the signal, I motioned him to wait. I had glanced at the clock on the instrument board: it was precisely 10 p.m. 'Two years ago today at this very hour,' I said, 'Marcel died. Let's pause for a few moments.' Levi nodded a.s.sent and pa.s.sed my message to those underground. The whole party observed a minute's silence, drawing from the recollection of that tragedy in 1952 a stern resolve to succeed in their present task. Those of us on the surface were little more than pa.s.sive, helpless spectators of the drama which now approached its climax.

Mauer had bidden farewell to the container. He was alone now at 699 where he was doomed to remain and suffer through long hours. Lepineux shall now take up the tale. Crouched with Jose Bidegain and Rossini at 257, he had checked up on the girder.

'The cable was rising; our eyes were glued to the pulley. "It must be getting close now, Jose," I remarked. "We shan't have long to wait." Rossini phoned the surface to ask for position. Queffelec answered that the container was at 525. At that critical point there was an angle of rock under which it might easily become jammed, and we began to have serious misgivings about the next stage of the journey.

'Almost immediately we were startled by a loud noise, and the cable stopped vibrating. Rossini s.n.a.t.c.hed the telephone . . . The winch had ceased to turn, and the dynamometer had risen from 880 to 2,200 lb. Three times I had the container lowered and raised; three times it jammed, making a tremendous din. Levi's voice held a note of grave anxiety: "What do you propose doing?" Jose and I looked at one another. Then I said: "Eat and think. We've got to take our time over this. How late is it?" "Nearly midnight," Levi replied.'

Sunday, 15 August The crisis was upon us. The wind howled unceasingly, and rain gave place to heavy snow which froze us to the marrow. A journalist, crouching at my side, leaned over and said: 'Nature has unleashed all her forces; the storm, the mountain and the chasm are allied against you. It seems as if the malignant spirits of the place refuse to yield up their prey and Loubens back to you.'

It was clear to those underground, as it was to us gathered round the winch, that there was only one thing to be done: the auto-hoist was a last resource whose use had been foreseen as possible, although we had entertained secret hopes that it would not prove necessary. This appliance was devised by Queffelec. It was a sort of pulley-block, hanging from which a man could raise or lower himself by hand along a steel-wire cable rather like a plasterer on the faade of a building. It has been very seldom used by speleologists, and requires special training. Before this expedition, Bidegain, Lepineux and I had agreed to practise with it in a small chasm and so familiarize ourselves with its use. As things turned out I had not been able to take part in these exercises on account of a fall while climbing. Lepineux had been obliged therefore to act as Bidegain's a.s.sistant; hence no one but Jose had so far used the apparatus, which requires a good deal of practice. As a precaution, all this gear had been stored on the balcony at 257. Here, then, Lepineux drove in expanding pitons to which the cable of the hoist was to be fixed. Bidegain now made himself fast, and his two companions watched him sink slowly out of sight.

Thanks be to G.o.d, the only member of the team qualified to use the hoist was a man of calm courage and herculean strength. He alone could have accomplished that overwhelming task. The lot had fallen upon him; he accepted it, and carried it out at the peril of his life and to the limit of physical endurance.

Having reached the container, he would have to release it and escort it on its way, hauling himself up meanwhile yard by yard, hugging the thing to himself and never letting go. I will let him tell the tale; his words far surpa.s.s any that I could write.

'On my way down I was haunted by one fear: would the great cable cross my slender thread, squeeze it against a rock, and cut it through? If that happened, there could be no hope: I must inevitably hurtle into s.p.a.ce. I recalled Casteret's grave warning as he returned to the surface: "It is going to be a very dangerous operation . . . and I know what I'm talking about." However, I arrived safely at my destination, level with the coffin wedged beneath that cursed overhang. After some manoeuvring, which I directed by telephone, I succeeded in placing it in the position from which I judged it easiest to pa.s.s the ledge. Now for it: "Up!"

'With my back to the wall, pushing the ma.s.sive weight with hands and feet, I got it past the obstacle. It was crushing me but it was going up. Foot by foot we rose together.'

Up there by the winch, half buried in the snow, we shared in spirit the torment of his gradual ascent. The acoustics were such that we could hear the coffin grind against the rock, the hand-chain of the hoist clicking as it moved, the heavy breathing of the man who worked it. Every now and then he would joke or try to joke, and even sang to cheer himself and rea.s.sure his wife, who was with us at the winding-gear and showed high courage notwithstanding mortal anguish in her eyes.

The engineers, however, were more worried than any of us. They understood the machinery and just how little more it could endure. At any moment it might fail, or the cable snap, and then . . . We guessed into what purgatory Jose's heart was plunged; for not one of us understood more clearly than did he how near Death was hovering.