Detective and mystery stories, English; Horror tales, English
And now I come to the point where I met with such sudden and desperate
disaster. A stream, some twenty feet broad, ran across my path, and I
walked for some little distance along the bank to find a spot where I
could cross dry-shod. Finally, I came to a place where a single flat
boulder lay near the centre, which I could reach in a stride. As it
chanced, however, the rock had been cut away and made top-heavy by the
rush of the stream, so that it tilted over as I landed on it and shot
me into the ice-cold water. My candle went out, and I found myself
floundering about in utter and absolute darkness.
I staggered to my feet again, more amused than alarmed by my adventure.
The candle had fallen from my hand, and was lost in the stream, but I
had two others in my pocket, so that it was of no importance. I got
one of them ready, and drew out my box of matches to light it. Only
then did I realize my position. The box had been soaked in my fall
into the river. It was impossible to strike the matches.
A cold hand seemed to close round my heart as I realized my position.
The darkness was opaque and horrible. It was so utter one put one's
hand up to one's face as if to press off something solid. I stood
still, and by an effort I steadied myself. I tried to reconstruct in
my mind a map of the floor of the cavern as I had last seen it. Alas!
the bearings which had impressed themselves upon my mind were high on
the wall, and not to be found by touch. Still, I remembered in a
general way how the sides were situated, and I hoped that by groping my
way along them I should at last come to the opening of the Roman
tunnel. Moving very slowly, and continually striking against the
rocks, I set out on this desperate quest.
But I very soon realized how impossible it was. In that black, velvety
darkness one lost all one's bearings in an instant. Before I had made
a dozen paces, I was utterly bewildered as to my whereabouts. The
rippling of the stream, which was the one sound audible, showed me
where it lay, but the moment that I left its bank I was utterly lost.
The idea of finding my way back in absolute darkness through that
limestone labyrinth was clearly an impossible one.
I sat down upon a boulder and reflected upon my unfortunate plight. I
had not told anyone that I proposed to come to the Blue John mine, and
it was unlikely that a search party would come after me. Therefore I
must trust to my own resources to get clear of the danger. There was
only one hope, and that was that the matches might dry. When I fell
into the river, only half of me had got thoroughly wet. My left
shoulder had remained above the water. I took the box of matches,
therefore, and put it into my left armpit. The moist air of the cavern
might possibly be counteracted by the heat of my body, but even so, I
knew that I could not hope to get a light for many hours. Meanwhile
there was nothing for it but to wait.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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