from his insecure perch and plucked him away, tossing him backwards,
spinning him down the length of the shaft that he had gained with so
much effort, and hurling him into the sink-hole beyond.
He was swirled end over end by the crazed waters. In the darkness and
wild confusion he did not know which direction was up and which down,
but it made no difference for he could not swim against its power, Then
the sink'hole seized him full in its grip and sucked him swiftly and
deeply down. The pressure of the water began to crush him. One of his
eardrums burst, and as he opened his mouth to scream at the agony of it
the water spurted down his throat and flooded his lungs. The last thing
he ever felt was when he was flung against the side wall of the
sink-hole, travelling as fast as the falling waters, and the bones of
his right shoulder shattered. He could not scream again through his
sodden lungs, but soon the pain faded into oblivion.
As his corpse was drawn swiftly through the subterranean shaft it became
mangled and "dismembered on the jagged rock sides, and was no longer
recognizable as human.
17"
by the time it was discharged through the butterfly fountain on the far
side' of the mountain. From there the torn fragments were washed down
the diverted Dandera river to join, at last, the wider and more stately
waters of the Blue Nile.
he waters pouring through the gap in the dam i wall picked up the yellow
front-loader and tumbled it over the waterfall into the chasm as though
it were a child's toy. Nicholas had a glimpse of it in the air below
him. Even as he fell himself, he realized that if he had stayed with the
machine he would have been crushed beneath it. The huge machine struck
the surface of the pool in a fountain of white spray and disappeared,
Nicholas followed it down, falling free, even managing J11 to keep his
head uppermost, feet foremost, as he swooped I down the waterfall. The
flood that carried him cushioned his fall, so that instead of being
dashed against the exposed boulders at the bottom, he bounced and
tumbled in the racing torrent. He came to the surface fifty yards
downstream, tossed his wet hair out of his eyes and glanced around him
quickly.
The tractor was gone, swallowed deep into the pool at the foot of the
waterfall, but ahead of him was a small island of rock in the middle of
the river. With a dozen overarm strokes -he swam to it and clung to a
rocky spur.
>From there he looked up at the sheer walls of the chasm an remembered
the last time he had been trapped down here. The ation "ie a felt at
the destruction of the dam and the flooding of Pharaoh's tomb
evaporated.
He knew that he would not be able to climb those slick, water-smoothed
cliffs that offered no handholds and which belled outwards in an
overhang over his head.
Instead he weighed the chances of working his way back upstream to the
foot of the falls. From here it looked as though there was some sort of
funnel or crevice up the east side of the chute which might offer a
ladderway to the top, but it would be a hard and dangerous climb.
The volume of water coming over the falls was not as heavy as he had
expected, considering the vast body of water that was being held back by
the dam. He realized then that the greater part of the wall of gabions
must still be in place and that this torrent was only the result of
water escaping through the narrow gap he had torn in the centre of the
wall. The remainin gabions must still be 9 holding in place under their
own weight. However, he realized that they could not hold much longer
and that the river must soon plough them aside and burst through in full
force. So he abandoned the idea of swimming back to the foot of the
falls.
"Have to get out of its way," he thought desperately, as he imagined
being caught up in the terrible flood which would certainly come down at
any moment. "If I can reach the side somewhere, perhaps find a ledge,
climb above the flood." But he knew it was a forlorn hope. He had swum
the length of the canyon once before without finding a handhold on the
slick walls.
"Swim ahead of it?" he thought. "A slim chance, but the only one I
have." He kicked off his boots, and gathered himself. He was about to
push off from his temporary refuge, when he heard the rest of the dam
wall high above him give way.
There was a rumbling roar, the crackle of logs snapping and breaking,
the grating and grinding of heavy gabions being -thrown around like
empty rubbish cans, and then suddenly and terrifyingly a solid wave of
grey water burst over the top of the falls, carrying with it a wall of
trash and debris.
"Oh mother! Too late. Here comes the big one!'
He shoved off from his rock, turning downstream, and swam with all his
strength, kicking and flailing his arms in a wild crawl stroke. He heard
the roar of the approaching wave and glanced back over his shoulder. It
was overhauling him swiftly, filling the chasm from wall to wall,
fifteen feet high and curling at the top. He had a fleeting mental II
image from his youth, waiting to surf that notorious wave at Cape St.
Vincent, hanging on the line'up and seeing it humping up behind him,
this great wall of water, so mountainous and so overwhelming.
"Ride id' he told himself, judging the moment. "Catch it like a slider."
He clawed through the water, trying to get up speed to ride up the wall.
He felt it seize him and lift him so violently that his guts swooped,
and then he was on the crest of it. He arched his back and tucked his
am-is behind him in the classic body-surfer's position, hanging in the
face of the wave, slightly head down, the front half of his body thrust
clear of the water, steering with his legs. After the first few
terrifying seconds he realized that he was ic abated and riding her high
and had some control; his pan he was overcome by a sense of wild
exhilaration.
"Twenty knots!" He estimated his speed by the giddy i blur of the canyon
walls passing him on either side. He steered away from the nearest wall,
sliding across the face, taking up station in the centre of the wave, He
was caff ied along by the wave and by the thrilling sensation of speed
and danger.
The increased depth of water in the chasm covered the dangerous,
knife-sharp rocks, enabling him to ride clear of them. It smoothed out
the waterfalls and the chutes, so that instead of dropping down them and
plummeting below the surface of the pool beneath he slid down them with
a smooth rush, holding his position in the face of the wave with a few
quick overarm strokes or a kick of the legs.
"Hell! This is fun!" He laughed aloud. "People would pay money to do
this. Beats the hell out of bungee jumping." A
Within the first mile the wave began to lose its shape and impetus as it
spread out. down the canyon. Soon it would no longer have the power to
hold him up in the surfing position, and he glanced around him swiftly.
Floating near by, keeping pace with him in the flotsam of debris from
the dam, was one of the treetrunks that had formed part of the raft with
which Sapper had plugged the gap in the wall.
He steered across to this ponderous piece of timber. It was thirty feet
long and floated low in the flood, its back showing like that of a
whale. Its branches had been roughly hacked away by the axemen, and the
spikes that remained provided secure handholds. Nicholas pulled himself
up on he treetrunk, lying on his belly, facing downstream, to with his