The Poseidon Adventure

by Paul Gallico

  Scott said sharply, 'Why didn't you stop him from drinking?'

  The girl replied, 'He needed it, that's why. And it made him happy again.' But she did not add, And sweet and kind and fond of me again.

  Rogo was less tactful, he said, 'Look, miss, this guy's a whisky bum. You're a young kid. Maybe we're all gonna go down with this tub, but if we don't you've got a right to live your life. You come along with us. It's his problem.'

  'But I am living my life,' Pamela answered with an intensity of conviction that left no room for doubt. 'You go on. We'll follow after you when he wakes up.'

  The men exchanged looks and Martin said, 'She's levelling. I know that kind. Some gals just have a thing for drunks.'

  Scott made his decision. 'We'll leave you this flashlight. It's all we can spare. I'm afraid we can't wait any longer.'

  Pamela said, 'Thank you, Dr Scott. We'll be perfectly all right. Not to worry about us. I'll look after him.'

  Scott said, 'In an hour, at the most two, this deck may be under water.'

  The girl, looking up at him, merely nodded, took the torch and snapped off the switch. 'I'd better be saving it, hadn't I?' she said. 'Thank you for coming for us.'

  The three men moved away. Rogo said, in disgust, 'The dumb bunny! Doesn't she know she's going to die if she stays there, the both of them?'

  'Yes,' Scott replied, simply, 'she knows.'

  Martin thought to himself: Jesus! And I thought our Carl Hosey was tough. What does this guy believe in next to himself?

  When they rejoined the others, Rosen asked, 'Well, so where are they? What's happening?'

  Scott replied merely, 'He isn't in any condition to move. The girl is staying with him. I've left them a torch.' He marshalled his party. The expression on his face was harsh and his eyes once more reflected the lamplight.

  No one wished either to question or consider the implication of what he had told them. Only Jane Shelby said, 'I envy her.'

  CHAPTER XV

  Belle Zimmerman of the W.S.A.

  The first set of boilers, red hot, had ripped loose from their fixtures and, plunging through the forward funnel into the sea, had exploded. The second farther aft only partially torn away, cracked and now cool, had created a weird lunar landscape of crumpled iron hills and valleys.

  Upside-down as well as shattered, the three-storey high room had lost all semblance of its original, almost aseptic aspect. The rows of burners behind the tiled façade which with their mica glass windows through which the boiler-room gang could inspect the fiery, orange glow within, now exposed their cores. The remains of the temperature gauges, oil feed, and once immaculate control panels, gave the impression of one of those fake façades of compo board, papiermâché and crudely painted canvases supposed to represent the nether regions, framing the entrance to one of those amusement park spook-in-the-dark rides.

  The party had reached it through a narrow entrance breached into the wall of Broadway, almost at the after end to which Kemal had led them. Here Kemal, on what had once been familiar territory, paused and for the first time pantomimed a gesture that neither Scott nor any of the others had understood. With his right hand, the palm flattened and pointing downwards, he did a kind of scooping motion several times and then turned anxious, inquiring eyes upon Scott.

  Muller asked, 'What's he trying to say? I don't get it. Those other chaps said this way was blocked. Do you suppose that's what he means?' To Kemal he queried, 'Okay? Okay?'

  This time the Turk merely nodded and Muller said, 'He wants us to go this way.'

  The entrance was so narrow that Belle Rosen said, 'If it gets any smaller, I can't go through.'

  Scott called back, 'It's all right, it opens out again. Stay together. Rogo, throw your light towards the floor.'

  For the passage was now undulating as though rippled by an earthquake, and at one point fractured, so that they had to step across a gap of several feet. Liquids were still oozing from broken piping.

  A sharp turn ended in a staircase which, ladder-like seemed to ascend almost normally instead of hanging from the ceiling.

  Muller, puzzled, asked, 'Why isn't it upside-down, like all the rest? We haven't righted ourselves have we?'

  For a moment they used all their lighting to examine it. Shelby said, 'No, it's just been twisted around back to front. My God, what force must have been exerted!' It was the first time he had spoken since Jane's tirade and the sound of his own voice seemed to alarm him so that he looked around almost anxiously.

  Martin remarked, 'That's lucky.'

  Scott said, 'You make your luck.'

  It had been one of those open, iron companionways with no backing to the steps, so that contrary to the others it presented no major difficulty.

  Scott sent the men up to stand at intervals and pass the women along from one to the other. The top would have been level with 'F' deck, except that they now found themselves in the remains of the boiler room.

  The dead lay in forlorn heaps where the canting of the steamer had hurled them.

  Linda screamed, 'Oh my God! They're dead! I won't go there . . .'

  Belle said, 'What have you got to be afraid of? Maybe they're better off than we are. Sometimes being alive is worse than being dead.'

  'Maybe for you, but I've got my life to live.'

  Her husband said, 'They won't hurt you.' That was one thing his profession had taught him. Once a bullet had torn the breath out of a man, he worked no further evil or good.

  Miss Kinsale intoned, 'Oughtn't we to pray for them?'

  'Later,' said Scott and scouted the area, showing up the scarified slabs of iron and heaped up wreckage. 'I think Kemal has been here before the lights went out and knows part of the way. We'll follow him.' He indicated to the Turk that he was to lead.

  They fell into file again in what had become their order of procedure; Scott and Miss Kinsale, Martin, Shelby, Susan and Jane, the Rosens, Muller and Nonnie, Linda and Mike Rogo bringing up the rear.

  The rise was gradual. Underfoot it was jagged and dangerous, like trying to negotiate a volcanic slope of rough, sharp points of lava. Kemal, in the van with one of the heavy lanterns, led up and pointed out the easiest way. It was slow, tortuous going.

  Shelby wanted to offer his arm to his wife, but he did not dare. He was crushed, bitterly angry and a good deal frightened of her. After all those years of peace and harmony, to have such hatred spewed out at him, to be belittled in front of strangers as an unsatisfactory lover and a failure in life. . . . Nevertheless, he turned around and whispered to his daughter, 'Look after your mother, Sue,' and then lamely felt he had to go on saying, 'I . . . I don't know what's come over her . .

  If Jane had heard, she gave no sign but when at a difficult passage Susan took her hand, she held it tightly.

  Belle Rosen gave a little scream, slipped and fell. Her husband was beside her at once, trying to lift her. She groaned, 'You want I should go on, Manny? How much longer do you think an old woman can stand this? I'm only a burden to these people. Think how much faster they could be getting on without us.'

  Manny, aided by Rogo, had raised her up. Nonnie came and put her arm about her waist. 'You mustn't feel like that, Mrs Rosen. We all like you.'

  Muller heard Linda mutter, 'In a pig's ass.'

  Rosen said, 'Only a little farther, Mamma. It's not much farther, is it, Frank?'

  Scott replied, 'I don't know. I can't tell you yet. We've got to go on as long as we can.'

  Belle said, 'I guess you're right. You make me feel ashamed, bellyaching all the time. I'm okay.'

  Suddenly the pathway selected and illuminated by Kemal's lantern began to descend, first gently, then sharply.

  'Hey!' Rogo shouted from the rear, 'Does this guy know what he's doing? We're going down. You know what's down. To hell with that! I thought you wanted to get up to the top.'

  They had already descended somewhat more than their last climb on the reversed staircase, and now must have been close to 'E' deck ag
ain.

  Scott turned and stopped their line of march. He said, 'We'll get there. Why do you think this fellow left the others and joined up with us?'

  No one said anything, but Rogo at the far end and higher up, shone his lantern full on Scott's face like a balcony electrician spotlighting an actor.

  His gaze never wavered. He did not even blink. Dramatically outlined, they were aware that he was looking at no one. He turned away and resumed the march.

  They were committed again and there was nothing to do but follow on. With a sickening feeling at the pit of his stomach, Muller reckoned that they had given up at least ten feet of their hard-won height. Then the way dipped even more sharply. They were surrendering without a struggle the decks for which they had fought so bitterly. They all felt it, hated it and with each descending step felt their morale and courage drain away.

  'Scott,' Rogo yelled down, for at the end of the line he was now higher than the rest, 'you dumb bastard! We're going to wind up in the drink again. This is the way the others said was blocked.'

  Scott called back, 'Take it easy, Rogo, Kemal didn't seem to be convinced. Remember this is the part of the ship he knows.'

  They crawled painfully down a few yards farther and found themselves at the end of the line. The flooring of the boiler room simply disappeared into one of those now all too familiar pools of dirty water with its multicoloured film of oil atop. This one was some eight feet square and extended to a shining, solid steel wall that rose up out of the far end.

  Exhausted, dispirited and filled with consternation they sank down on to the slope beside the pool, Jane Shelby murmuring, 'Oh no! Oh no!' and Miss Kinsale praying, 'Oh Lord, what have we done to offend Thee?'

  They hardly heard Linda's string of obscenities, but Rogo came through loud and clear, 'Okay, you stoopid son-of-a-bitch, what do we do now?'

  Martin was murmuring to himself, 'Oh Christ!' for whenever he saw this black water, he also saw the rosy figure of Mrs Lewis. They must have reached some shaft connected with the boiler room into which the sea had risen.

  Only Scott and Kemal were on their feet. The Minister stood there silently contemplating the scene. He seemed to be waiting.

  Kemal pointed at the wall, hard, as though to extend and jab his finger through to the other side. 'Engine,' he said. And thereafter, pointing to the dark well, he again made that strange scooping, half-swimming motion with his hands.

  Rogo asked, 'What's he trying to say? What the hell did he bring us here for?'

  Muller said, 'The engine room must be on the other side.' He tackled Kemal, 'Look here,' he said loudly, 'what's down under that water? Is there a passage? Is it connected? How deep is it?'

  The man did not understand the words, but with his eager intelligent eyes picked up their import. Now he began to pantomime again. He made a box-like shape with his hands, then spread his arms apart several times and followed it with the mime as of someone climbing a ladder or steep staircase. Then he did his explosion pantomime again with his deep 'Boom!' and shrugged.

  Muller said, 'There's some kind of passage under there. Wait a minute! Turned right-side up it would connect with both the boiler and engine rooms, an entrance to them or a way up for the engineers. Now it's underwater.' He pointed down to the pool and made swimming motions at Kemal. The oiler smiled gently and shook his head in negation. Muller said, 'He's not having any. God knows what's down there, or how far or how deep. I don't blame him.'

  Belle Rosen said, 'Hmm! Swimming under water I can do.' But no one paid any attention to her. They were gathered around a dark pool of despair that led down into no one knew where or what.

  Rogo reverted to his favourite line, 'Okay, coach, you show us what we do next. You gonna go down that hole?'

  Scott shone his light upon the patch of water, picking up the iridescence of the oil film and breaking it into primary colours. He said, 'Yes.'

  The wave of relief that ran through the men was almost something tangible and Jane Shelby angrily tried to stifle the stab of admiration for Scott. Whatever else might be wrong with him, as a leader he had courage.

  Rogo said, 'You can have it.' His remark expressed the feelings of the other men in the party. Kemal had refused and there was no question of Rosen. If Scott had not accepted, the dangerous task would have devolved upon Martin, Muller or Shelby to volunteer, and while all of them were at home in the water, none of them had the stomach for fishing about to encounter God knows what obstacles or horrors beneath that surface.

  Yet it was Muller who threw it right back into their laps again. He said, 'It won't work, Frank. We can't let you do it.'

  The Minister repeated, 'Can't let me do it? Why not?'

  'Because,' said Muller succinctly, 'you're the basket we've got all our eggs in,' and let the idea percolate.

  Little Rosen was the first to catch on, 'My God, yes! If something should happen to Frank . . .'

  Nonnie whispered to Muller, 'Don't you go. Oh, please don't!'

  He allayed her fears, 'Don't worry, I simply wouldn't have the guts.'

  Scott said, 'Nothing would happen to me.'

  But Shelby said, 'Muller's right. We can't afford to take a chance. We'll have to turn back. Maybe we ought to have tried to reach the bow in the first place.' The old Shelby would have volunteered, or at least offered for the sake of his image, but the old Shelby had been destroyed.

  Miss Kinsale shivered and said, 'I couldn't bear to go back through that Broadway place again.'

  Martin said, 'We can't. We've got an investment going for us. We've put in all of two hours getting this far.' But he did not volunteer either.

  Rogo said with heavy sarcasm, 'Nice work, Frankie boy!'

  Muller wondered how long it would be before the Minister would turn upon his tormentor and slug him, but the big man seemed to be unbaitable. Muller was hating Scott for his imperturbability and himself for lacking the courage to probe down into that black sink to see if it offered any way of escape, unlikely as it appeared.

  Scott announced with finality, 'As I see it, there isn't any choice. It's up to me.'

  Belle Rosen said, 'Such a fuss for a little water. If you leave it to me, I can find out in a minute. Like I said before, swimming under water I can do.'

  They all turned to stare at her and Martin said, 'You can't be serious, Mrs Rosen.' What she was saying came so utterly incongruously from the wretched figure, her black lace dress in rags, the rouge purged from her lips and cheeks, her skin grey and sweat-stained with great dark patches showing under the tired eyes behind the thick lenses of her spectacles. She had blotches of bruises beginning to show on her arms and legs from the difficult climb up the wall of pipes and the knocking about in the working alley.

  She was regarding them heavily now and said, 'Because I'm a fat old woman now, you think I couldn't have been an athlete, too, when I was young? You should ask Charlotte Epstein from the W.S.A. God rest her soul. She's dead now. For the underwater swim I was her champion three years.'

  Linda Rogo whispered, 'My God, what the hell's the old bag yacking about now?'

  Belle Rosen heard. She always did. She turned her melancholy gaze on the girl. 'About what you wouldn't know. Because you never heard of Eleanor Holm, either, or girls like Helen Meany, Aileen Riggin, Ethelda Bleibtrey or Gertrude Ederle. They were all W.S.A. champions. I could hold my breath under water for two minutes, and once for two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. You know what that was then? A world's record is what it was. Eppie -- Charlotte Epstein, head of the Women's Swimming Association in New York, was the greatest thing that ever happened to swimming in our country. L. deB. Handley was our coach. He's the one taught Gertrude Ederle to be the first to swim the English Channel. Trudy once said maybe I could have swum the English Channel under water, if I'd wanted to.'

  She was running on garrulously. No one thought or cared to try to stop her, and her sudden reminiscences of people of whom they had never heard. Besides, in some unbelievable way it was pene
trating that she was holding out some kind of hope to them in their predicament.

  'I used to be terrible,' Belle Rosen continued, 'scaring people. I could stay under so long, nobody knew when I was coming up and once I gave even Eppie nearly heart failure when I swam two-and-a-half lengths of the pool in practice when I was feeling good.'

  'Look here,' said Martin suddenly, 'were you Belle Zimmerman?'

  Manny Rosen spoke up proudly, 'Was she Belle Zimmerman! She's been telling you, ain't she? You should see all the cups and medals she's got, and a whole book of clippings. And once when she broke the world record, she was on the front page of The Daily News . If you don't believe it, we got the book home to show you.'

  Belle said, 'Oh come now, Manny, he's too young to know. That was a long time ago.'