you’re scared of running into something. And it’s impossible to run when fear has you holding your breath. When I was finally forced to suck air into my lungs it was hard to know whether I was gasping or sobbing. I kept my hand against the wall and tentatively upped the speed, hoping at any moment to see the light from the second shaft. Every fraction of a second I couldn’t convinced me the others had got there first. Suddenly I could see it. When you’ve been staring into total darkness it’s amazing how bright a weak shaft of light can appear and how welcome. Relief flooded over me. It was over. I’d made it. Solo. I’d passed the test. I almost smiled. Then, as I closed to within ten yards of the rungs I heard that dreaded sound again.
‘No!’ I screamed.
If anyone heard me they took no notice. The scraping of iron on concrete ceased just as I reached the rungs. Once again I was in pitch darkness. I clawed my way up the rungs faster than I’d ever climbed before and punched my fist against the manhole cover. I could’ve fired a cannon at it and no one would’ve heard a thing through the five inches of cast iron. This time there was no holding back the tears. I sobbed uncontrollably like theweak, lily-livered Pommy that I was. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to die.
I climbed back down the rungs. I knew they’d expect me to run all the way back to the first shaft. My only hope was they’d had enough fun and this time they’d let me out. I’d only just turned back when I noticed things had changed. The air in the tunnel felt different, sort of colder and damper. My first thought was that it was because I was running in the opposite direction. But then I felt a slight breeze and my fear ratcheted up to a level I never thought possible. We’d talked about it and we’d all agreed. If a flood of water were to come down the tunnel it would push air in front of it. We all reckoned you’d feel it coming before you heard it. In that instant I reckoned I’d felt it.
My mind filled with movie images of sea water rushing into stricken submarines and the screams of sailors. I knew with blinding clarity exactly what would happen. If I was wary about running flat out before I wasn’t any more. I knew there was nothing to bump into and my feet had got used to the sloped walkway. I bolted. I ran for my life. Captain Biggs had always encouraged us to say silent prayers when we were in danger and to ask for God’s help to get out of whatever trouble we’d got ourselves into. Of course implicit with the calls for His Divine Assistance were the trade-offs that went with them. For example, I promise to go to church every Sunday for a full year if only I get saved. I promise to put out the hymnbooks and kneeling pads every Sunday, and put them away after the service. I promise toput half of my pocket money into the collection plate. I promise I’ll never again sneak under the girls’ dressing sheds for a peep. I promise not to dream of Sister Glorious in the nude ever again . I ran, cried, prayed and promised with all of my might, my head filled with visions of fountains of water erupting from the shaft, of my lifeless body being swept along the drain at one hundred miles an hour, of my pals all standing around my muddy body feeling mightily sorry for what they’d done.
I’d run hard but there was still no pool of light in front of me. I had no real idea how far I’d come but I thought I’d run far enough. At that moment my hand collided with steel. I knew immediately where I was and grabbed hold of a rung with a mixture of desperation and despair. My feet slipped from under me and into the half-pipe. There wasn’t the slightest doubt. The flow of water had increased. I couldn’t believe it! The water was rising and the manhole cover was still in place. My only chance for salvation was blocked by five inches of solid iron.
It suddenly occurred to me that my pals might have got bored, gone home and left
‘No!’ I screamed.
If anyone heard me they took no notice. The scraping of iron on concrete ceased just as I reached the rungs. Once again I was in pitch darkness. I clawed my way up the rungs faster than I’d ever climbed before and punched my fist against the manhole cover. I could’ve fired a cannon at it and no one would’ve heard a thing through the five inches of cast iron. This time there was no holding back the tears. I sobbed uncontrollably like theweak, lily-livered Pommy that I was. I couldn’t help it. I didn’t want to die.
I climbed back down the rungs. I knew they’d expect me to run all the way back to the first shaft. My only hope was they’d had enough fun and this time they’d let me out. I’d only just turned back when I noticed things had changed. The air in the tunnel felt different, sort of colder and damper. My first thought was that it was because I was running in the opposite direction. But then I felt a slight breeze and my fear ratcheted up to a level I never thought possible. We’d talked about it and we’d all agreed. If a flood of water were to come down the tunnel it would push air in front of it. We all reckoned you’d feel it coming before you heard it. In that instant I reckoned I’d felt it.
My mind filled with movie images of sea water rushing into stricken submarines and the screams of sailors. I knew with blinding clarity exactly what would happen. If I was wary about running flat out before I wasn’t any more. I knew there was nothing to bump into and my feet had got used to the sloped walkway. I bolted. I ran for my life. Captain Biggs had always encouraged us to say silent prayers when we were in danger and to ask for God’s help to get out of whatever trouble we’d got ourselves into. Of course implicit with the calls for His Divine Assistance were the trade-offs that went with them. For example, I promise to go to church every Sunday for a full year if only I get saved. I promise to put out the hymnbooks and kneeling pads every Sunday, and put them away after the service. I promise toput half of my pocket money into the collection plate. I promise I’ll never again sneak under the girls’ dressing sheds for a peep. I promise not to dream of Sister Glorious in the nude ever again . I ran, cried, prayed and promised with all of my might, my head filled with visions of fountains of water erupting from the shaft, of my lifeless body being swept along the drain at one hundred miles an hour, of my pals all standing around my muddy body feeling mightily sorry for what they’d done.
I’d run hard but there was still no pool of light in front of me. I had no real idea how far I’d come but I thought I’d run far enough. At that moment my hand collided with steel. I knew immediately where I was and grabbed hold of a rung with a mixture of desperation and despair. My feet slipped from under me and into the half-pipe. There wasn’t the slightest doubt. The flow of water had increased. I couldn’t believe it! The water was rising and the manhole cover was still in place. My only chance for salvation was blocked by five inches of solid iron.
It suddenly occurred to me that my pals might have got bored, gone home and left
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