Sixty Days to Live (46 page)

From their appalling experience in Baker Street four nights before, they had anticipated great difficulty in getting the sledge even as far as the river, but much snow had fallen since so they were no longer faced with lumpy obstructions like buried cars or the wickedly difficult surface formed by debris under a moderate crust of snow. The recent falls had increased the thickness of the snow-layer to such an extent that the way was now smooth except for gentle undulations here and there where vehicles or piles of fallen bricks and mortar lay buried deep under the surface.

By ten o’clock they had passed the Holborn Restaurant and turned south down Kingsway. The top of Bush House still protruded high above the snow at the bottom of the broad thoroughfare but the snow-covered road seemed to run uphill towards it as the buildings at its southern end were buried considerably more deeply than those at its entrance from Holborn. As they advanced they now entered the area where the flood waters had become frozen before they could recede from the lower levels of the city. Only the upper storeys of the tall buildings in the Aldwych still showed above the snow and those in the Strand were buried to their roof-tops. As soon as Lavina had passed them she saw that a great open plain of snow stretched on either hand and far away to her front where, with very few exceptions, the buildings on the south side of the river lay buried. No chimney-stacks, towers or spires broke the vista, so these had evidently been overthrown by the rush of the flood-waters.

She waited, somewhere above the northern end of Waterloo Bridge, for the others to come up to her, then proposed a new and better plan. The open plain of the flooded river offered much better going than they would find when they had crossed it and had reached the higher ground in South-East London, where the buildings were still above the ice-level and where they might get themselves hopelessly lost in trying to pick up the Old Kent Road. It would be much easier, she suggested, to strike a course east
over the flat, flooded area, then turn inland towards the Dover Road farther on.

Gervaise agreed at once, and after taking a compass bearing for her guidance, they set off down-river.

The great, arched roof of Cannon Street station had fallen in, as had the dome of St. Paul’s, although its main structure still stood out high above the stricken city. The bulk of the Tower of London was submerged but the top of the White Tower with its four turrets showed the position of the ancient fortress. One of the towers of Tower Bridge had been swept away but the other still reared its pinnacles to the cold, blue sky.

By mid-afternoon they were somewhere over the London Docks and the wide plain became broken and hilly. At first they failed to identify the hillocks by their shape, but they soon realised that the mounds were made by the funnels and superstructures of wrecked shipping.

As snow had begun to fall and evening was approaching, Gervaise decided that they would camp for the night in the lee of one of these great hummocks which concealed a stricken ship. He reckoned that they had covered between seven and eight miles of their journey and considered that to be excellent for their first day’s trek. They pitched the three small tents so as to form three sides of a square, the open side of which faced to leeward. One was to be shared by Gervaise and Derek, one by Sam and Hemmingway and one by the two girls. The sleigh was unpacked and Margery cooked their evening meal on the primus. It was bitterly cold and to-night they had to do without a fire, so they turned in immediately they had eaten.

On the second day they again followed the course of the river, identifying a snow-covered hill on their right as Greenwich Park and the hump on top of it as the Observatory. At their next halt Gervaise gave Lavina a new compass bearing, south by east over Woolwich Marshes, in order to cut off the big bend of the river.

No buildings of any kind now broke the skyline, but by compass and map bearings they reckoned that they were approximately over Erith when they halted that afternoon; again having covered eight miles during the day. They still had to do without a fire but they had ample supplies of food, warm furs and comfortable fur bags in which to sleep.

On the third day they moved south-east, parallel with the river;
then, cutting off another bend, south by east to Tilbury, accomplishing another eight miles. The whole of Tilbury was under the ice-bank so once more they fed from their stores.

The trek had not, so far, proved too arduous. Gervaise knew that it was absolutely essential to conserve the strength of his party so he gave them frequent halts and never pressed them to a longer day’s march than they could manage with reasonable ease. They had been lucky with the weather as snow had fallen only in the late afternoons and during the nights. All of them were in good health and as they were warmly wrapped in furs the intense cold did not seriously affect them. As they marched they often sang and Lavina, having once made up her mind that she must face the journey, had become her old, gay self. She still bullied the others into doing things for her and poked fun at them, but it was kindly fun, and nothing pleased her better than when by accident or design the laugh was turned against herself. At every halt her spontaneous chuckles echoed through the deadly silence of the snow waste and they adored her for the gallant spirit which made light of the labours of their journey.

On the fourth day they left the course of the river, moving south-east again but now striking inland. By midday they reached the edge of the frozen plain where it rose on their right to higher ground. Tree-tops broke the surface of the snow here and there, although their upper leaves and branches were so powdered that they were only recognisable from close quarters, and now and then they saw the upper storeys of houses that were still standing. An hour later, having crossed a spur, they were in the valley of the River Medway, the lower part of which had been flooded to the same level as the Thames.

Snow started to fall at half-past three, but as Gervaise was anxious to make Rochester or Chatham that night they pressed on through it for another hour and a half and were rewarded at last by the sight of Rochester Castle. Bishop Odo’s great Norman tower had survived the deluge, but its upper sections were all that stood out above the plain of snow; the city below it was entirely buried.

Gervaise had thought that would probably be the case, but as it was now four days since they had known the joy of a fire he had hoped that if Rochester Castle had not been overthrown they might get inside it and spend the night in greater comfort
than on the open plain. Unfortunately, his plan proved impracticable because the entrances to the castle were deep under the ice and its arrow-slit windows much too narrow for them to get through. But they were able to pitch camp under the lee of the great keep, which protected them from the wind, and had the satisfaction of knowing that they had made a record by covering ten miles since the morning.

They were now on the Dover Road, or rather, from eighty to a hundred feet above it, and their next concern was to advance south-east again until the road rose out of the ice-pack, so that they could identify and follow it. Next morning, passing over submerged Chatham, from which the ground rose steeply to their right, they pushed on in the direction of Sittingbourne. It was not until reaching Rainham that they found the road and although they had covered only five miles as the crow flies, having spent a considerable time that day zigzagging across the now uneven country trying to locate the highway, they decided to halt there for the night.

The buildings in the village were almost buried, but picking a fair-sized house, they climbed into a servant’s bedroom through a broken window in its top storey. The room was two feet deep in snow that had drifted in but the landing was clear, and lighting some candles they proceeded downstairs. It was an eerie experience to descend into the bowels of the buried house and on entering a first-floor bedroom, the door of which stood open, they came upon a group of frozen corpses.

The bloated, partially decayed faces seemed to take on a horrid life when glimpsed only by the light of guttering candles. Margery screamed and fled in terror to the pale daylight of the top storey. Sam followed to quiet and comfort her. The others wrenched-to the door, shutting in the dead occupants of their new refuge, and went down to the ground floor.

Having smashed up some of the lighter furniture they took it upstairs and got a brazier going in another bedroom, at the back of the house, into which comparatively little snow had drifted. The warmth of the fire cheered them and the prospect of finding innumerable other such houses in which they could shelter, now that they had passed out of the great ice-plain, gave them fresh confidence in the eventual success of their mad journey.

After cooking a meal they explored the house, but there was little in it of any value to them. Two tins of pork-and-beans, a few candles, and half a bottle of methylated spirit which would come in handy for the primus, were all the place yielded.

On the sixth day they were able to follow the road; but only with some difficulty. The houses along it were the best indication of its position, but in the places where it passed through open country these were comparatively few and far between. In such stretches the road was no more than a very shallow depression which at times disappeared altogether, merging into the slopes of the hillsides, when their only guide was the top of an occasional telegraph pole which had been left standing. By comparison the great plain of the flooded river-valley had been easy going, as that had at least been level, whereas they now had to drag the sledge up steep inclines whenever the road wound over a hill. Although they had only done six miles it was late in the afternoon when they reached the outskirts of Sittingbourne and chose a roof-top which looked as though it had once sheltered a prosperous family under which to spend the night.

They selected a big playroom under the eaves in which to light their fires and, on exploring the depths of the house, had the good fortune to discover that, in addition to quite a considerable stock of tinned goods which a careful housewife had laid in, it contained a well-chosen cellar of wines. That night they all got very jolly and slept like tops after partaking liberally of some excellent mulled claret which Gervaise made for them.

Their happening upon such well-equipped quarters proved particularly fortunate because when they woke the next morning a blizzard was raging and Gervaise decided that it was quite impossible for them to proceed further until it had ceased. Ever since leaving London their luck with the weather had held and on only two occasions had they had to press on through snow for the last hour or so before halting for the night. But the driven flakes which obscured everything more than ten feet distant from the broken upper windows of the house showed them the sort of peril which they might have to face if they were caught in a storm later on their journey.

Bathing was out of the question and they had long since given up worrying themselves about the lack of such an amenity; but they boiled some kettles of water over their braziers, and the
men were able to rid themselves of their seven days’ growth of beard while the girls washed their hair and generally made themselves a little more presentable.

As there was nothing to do except feed the fires, Derek amused himself by setting out a fine collection of toy soldiers which he found in a cupboard in the playroom. Having thawed out the icelogged boxes of troops, guns and wagons he arranged them all and was as delighted as a child while crawling round the floor to play at battles.

Lavina soon got bored with helping him as she was not particularly interested in soldiers and she did not care for crawling about on her hands and knees on the board floor which, although thawed out by the fire, was still damp; so she suggested to Hemmingway that they should have another look round the house together.

Taking candles with them they descended to the ground floor and spent a little time exploring the rooms; but the jumbled furniture was frozen too hard where it lay for them to move it without effort, and trying to wrench open cupboards was difficult as long as they kept their thick gloves on and chilly work if they took them off. When they reached a small library which had a couple of armchairs in it Lavina proposed that they should sit down and talk instead of exploring further.

To anyone not fully acquainted with their circumstances it would have seemed a mad idea to think of sitting in the cold down there when they could equally well have sat upstairs in the warmth of the braziers, but Hemmingway did not consider her suggestion at all strange. For many days now the whole party had been compelled to remain together, and from necessity the conversation had been entirely general. Every topic that could be discussed with interest by all concerned had long ago been exhausted and they were beginning to find the repetitions of each other’s opening gambits or the long silences which often occurred among them equally nerve-racking. For two of them to get away from the rest for a little was almost an adventure and, although the chairs were frozen hard and the temperature of the room was well below zero, they were not cold because they were muffled to the eyes in their thick furs.

When they had put their candles on the mantel and settled themselves in the chairs Lavina said:

‘What d’you think our chances are of coming through?’

‘At least fifty-fifty,’ Hemmingway smiled. ‘Unless we’re hung up permanently by a blizzard during the next fortnight, we ought to make it.’

‘You really think that? You’re not just saying it to keep me cheerful?’

‘No. I honestly believe it. We’re all fit, we haven’t suffered severely from the cold, we’ve got plenty of stores to go on with, and there are lots of places along the road where we can pick up more.’

She shivered. ‘Don’t run away with the idea that I don’t suffer from the cold because I’m not always moaning about it. At times I could scream, it makes me so miserable, and we seem to have been trudging through the snow for half a lifetime already.’