Whiteout!

Smales said. 'Keep going.' He beckoned me over, repeated the warning about the rope, then said, 'Look down there.'

Already Vernon was far down in the shining whiteness. I'd counted twenty-five yards of cable, seventy-five feet, just over half-way down the first chamber.

Smales said, 'Down below there's another hole just like it, and below that, another yet. In case you miss the point, that's kind of a brave man down there.'

Vernon's voice crackled up through the walkie-talkie. 'Christ, I want to cough !'

'Suppress it,' Herschel snapped. 'Keep it under till you're in the neck of Chamber Two, then steady yourself.'

'That's what - ' Vernon's voice paused, and I could imagine the straining muscles seeking to control the cough reflex.

'You okay?'

'Okay, sir.' Vernon was nearly at the neck.

'Want me to stop it?' Herschel asked.

'No, sir. I got it. I'm okay now.' A few seconds later he disappeared into the black neck of the second chamber. Faintly I could see the gleam of his hand lamp. I looked up, watching the cable unroll. Herschel said, 'Two ten feet. What's it like down there?'

'They're bigger than ever, sir. Jesus! Must be sixty feet long, some of these things.'

'You clear of them?'

'In just a second . . , clear now, sir.' His sigh of relief came through. I could see nothing now; nothing except that steel cable running ruler-straight into the dead centre of that hole in the ice a hundred and fifty feet below.

'Coming up to three hundred,' Herschel said.

'I'm near the neck.'

'Want a rest there, Vernon? How's the cough?'

'Okay now. Keep lowering.'

'Three ten, three fifteen. You should be through any time now.'

'I'm through, sir.'

'See anything?'

'No, not yet.'

Smales said, 'Tell him not to go down to water level if he can help it.'

Herschel passed the instruction and Vernon's voice crackled back. 'Sure won't. But there's nothing to see, except a couple of icicles must have crashed down here. There's big hunks of ice floating.'

'Nothing else?'

'Not a thing. It all looks clear, too. Equipment's okay, so the icicles can't have hit it. Can't see how they missed, though.'

'Three fifty,' Herschel said. 'I'm calling a halt.'

'Can't see nothing down here, sir.'

'That lamp powerful enough ?'

'Lower me just a little more, sir. Twenty feet. No more than twenty-five.'

'Okay, It's your neck.'

I glanced at Barney Smales as he frowned into the depths, his jaw muscles standing out tautly. He said,

'Ask Vernon if he can see the bottom.'

The question was put.

'I'm looking over it now, sir. Slow scan with the lamp.'

We all waited, then Vernon's voice came again. 'Nothing in there. Water's clear and nothing shows.'

'Can you fill the bottle?'

'I'm trying, sir, right now. Damn thing won't go under. When I lower it, it floats. Hold on, I'll try again.'

The rope quivered as he moved, far below, in his seat, and Herschel said, 'You be careful there, Vernon.'

'Still floats, sir. Got to get lower, try and scoop it up from the seat. But lower slowly, sir.'

'I sure will.' Herschel switched on the motor again and allowed the rope to unwind a few inches at a time. 'How's it going?'

'Yard more, sir.'

The rope unrolled, then stopped.

'And again.'

Herschel controlled it with tremendous care. 'How's that?'

There was a grunt of strain from the handset. 'Maybe a foot more.'

'One foot. Okay?'

'Damn thing has too much . . , buoyancy,' Vernon said jerkily. 'Hold on, I'm trying - ' The taut line jerked suddenly and Herschel said, 'You okay?'

'Yup, okay, sir.' The strain was audible. Then Vernon said, 'Guess I'll have to get my feet wet.'

Smales snapped: 'No!'

'Commander says no, Vernon,' Herschel said. 'It's too risky. You'll freeze your feet. Try another time with the bottle.'

Again the rope quivered. Then Vernon reported. 'Got a few drops, I think. Yeah, just a little.'

Smales turned to Kelleher, who had stood grave and silent throughout. 'That enough?'

'Should be,' Kelleher said. 'Have to be, won't it?'

Smales nodded to Herschel.

'We're bringing you out of there, Vernon. Real still now!'

'No, sir. Let me try again.'

Smales shook his head.

'Commander says no. You got that?'

'Yes, sir.'

'Hold tight.' The motor whined and the line began to reel in over its spool. Smales turned to me. 'Okay. Step back.' He remained where he was, leaning over, staring down into the depths of the hole. Kelleher came and stood beside me. He said, ‘Coming up out of there's worse than going down. More tendency to swing the chair. 1 wouldn't be in that seat for a million. And all for a few drops of water!'

Vernon's voice came suddenly. 'Can you hold it, sir?'

'Something wrong?' Herschel demanded.

'Just cramped.'

“Where are you?'

'Under the neck of Chamber Three. Be okay in a second, sir.'

'Okay.'

Everybody waited. About a minute passed and the rope kept vibrating. Then Vernon said, 'Okay, sir.'

Herschel let the rope move again. It didn't stop this time until about two minutes later Vernon's head appeared suddenly over the top of the corrugated barrier. He was pale and obviously shaken and the precious bottle was clutched in his mittened hand. As Herschel stopped the motor, Kelleher stepped forward to take the bottle from him and hold it up to the light. There was about a quarter of an inch of water in the bottom.

Smales and I pulled the chair over, and as Vernon unstrapped himself, he said, 'Gee, I'm sorry, sir. I just couldn't make it sink. If I'd had something to force it down . ..'

Kelleher said, 'This'll just have to do it. You did a fine job there, Vernon.'

'You'll get a commendation from me,' Smales said. 'No use to you now, but you'll get it.'

Vernon thanked him, picked up his parka and put it on and Smales said, 'That's it. We're gonna have to sink another hole. Can't go on this way. How bad down there?'

Vernon turned to face him. He looked very drawn. 'It's kinda scary, sir. I have to say that.'

'I believe you. Thanks, Vernon. Go get drunk.'

Vernon managed a grin. 'I don't think so, sir.'

Smales said, 'It's an order, Sergeant.' Then he turned to me. 'What's the best Scotch we got in the officers' club?'

'Tomatin,' I said. 'Though it's a personal opinion.'

'Well, do me a favour, Bowes. Get a bottle of Tomatin and take it to Vernon's quarters. Then pour it down his goddam throat!'

I obeyed the first two instructions, but not the third. Vernon took the glass and sipped it, shuddered once, and said, 'If it's all the same to you, sir, what I'll do is sleep.'

It turned out that the water was pure.

I'd passed a lot of hours just waiting about, since my arrival at Camp Hundred, and 1 was passing another, reading in the library hut, when Lieutenant Foster came in. It was an hour or so before dinner. He smiled and said, 'Hi!'

I said, 'How are you feeling?'

'Okay, I suppose.' He sat down and started turning the pages of Newsweek, but he wasn't reading, I said, 'Tell me about your cousin,' thinking it might help if he talked. 'I thought I told you. They were coming back from the - '

'No,' I said. 'I meant what sort of a man was he?'

'Charlie? Oh, he was okay.' Foster paused and fumbled for a packet of cigarettes. His hand shook a little as he lit one. 'Had kind of a bad patch, but he was over it, I guess. Making good. And then . . .'