He came again, and Birkin leaned to help him in to the boat. Gudrun again watched Gerald climb out of the water, but this time slowly, heavily, with the blind clambering motions of an amphibious beast, clumsy. Again the moon shone with faint luminosity on his white wet figure, on the stooping back and the rounded loins. But it looked defeated now, his body, it clambered and fell with slow clumsiness. He was breathing hoarsely too, like an animal that is suffering. He sat slack and motionless in the boat, his head blunt and blind like a seal’s, his whole appearance inhuman, unknowing. Gudrun shuddered as she mechanically followed his boat. Birkin rowed without speaking to the landing–stage.
'Where are you going?' Gerald asked suddenly, as if just waking up.
'Home,' said Birkin.
'Oh no!' said Gerald imperiously. 'We can’t go home while they’re in the water. Turn back again, I’m going to find them.' The women were frightened, his voice was so imperative and dangerous, almost mad, not to be opposed.
'No!' said Birkin. 'You can’t.' There was a strange fluid compulsion in his voice. Gerald was silent in a battle of wills. It was as if he would kill the other man. But Birkin rowed evenly and unswerving, with an inhuman inevitability.
'Why should you interfere?' said Gerald, in hate.
Birkin did not answer. He rowed towards the land. And Gerald sat mute, like a dumb beast, panting, his teeth chattering, his arms inert, his head like a seal’s head.
They came to the landing–stage. Wet and naked–looking, Gerald climbed up the few steps. There stood his father, in the night.
'Father!' he said.
'Yes my boy? Go home and get those things off.'
'We shan’t save them, father,' said Gerald.
'There’s hope yet, my boy.'
'I’m afraid not. There’s no knowing where they are. You can’t find them. And there’s a current, as cold as hell.'
'We’ll let the water out,' said the father. 'Go home you and look to yourself. See that he’s looked after, Rupert,' he added in a neutral voice.
'Well father, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m afraid it’s my fault. But it can’t be helped; I’ve done what I could for the moment. I could go on diving, of course—not much, though—and not much use—'
He moved away barefoot, on the planks of the platform. Then he trod on something sharp.
'Of course, you’ve got no shoes on,' said Birkin.
'His shoes are here!' cried Gudrun from below. She was making fast her boat.
Gerald waited for them to be brought to him. Gudrun came with them. He pulled them on his feet.
'If you once die,' he said, 'then when it’s over, it’s finished. Why come to life again? There’s room under that water there for thousands.'
'Two is enough,' she said murmuring.
He dragged on his second shoe. He was shivering violently, and his jaw shook as he spoke.
'That’s true,' he said, 'maybe. But it’s curious how much room there seems, a whole universe under there; and as cold as hell, you’re as helpless as if your head was cut off.' He could scarcely speak, he shook so violently. 'There’s one thing about our family, you know,' he continued. 'Once anything goes wrong, it can never be put right again—not with us. I’ve noticed it all my life—you can’t put a thing right, once it has gone wrong.'
They were walking across the high–road to the house.
'And do you know, when you are down there, it is so cold, actually, and so endless, so different really from what it is on top, so endless—you wonder how it is so many are alive, why we’re up here. Are you going? I shall see you again, shan’t I? Good–night, and thank you. Thank you very much!'
The two girls waited a while, to see if there were any hope. The moon shone clearly overhead, with almost impertinent brightness, the small dark boats clustered on the water, there were voices and subdued shouts. But it was all to no purpose. Gudrun went home when Birkin returned.
He was commissioned to open the sluice that let out the water from the lake, which was pierced at one end, near the high–road, thus serving as a reservoir to supply with water the distant mines, in case of necessity. 'Come with me,' he said to Ursula, 'and then I will walk home with you, when I’ve done this.'
