The Bell - Iris Murdoch [70]
Toby woke up and pushed Murphy off. He hadn't been asleep more than a moment, to be sure, but now it was time to swim, his body so baked that it seemed it must sizzle as it entered the glossy water. The pike had gone away. The water lazed thickly at the foot of the ramp and the pale stones were not visible under it. There would be little point in underwater swimming here; the water would be too opaque to see anything. He stood, poised on the brink, looking down. The centre of the lake was glittering, colourlessly brilliant, but along the edge the green banks could be seen reflected and the blue sky, the colours clear yet strangely altered into the colours of a dimmer and more obscure world: the charm of swimming in still waters, that sense of passing through the looking-glass, of disturbing and yet entering that other scene that grows out of the roots of this one. Toby took a step or two and hurled himself in.
For a while he swam quietly about, waiting for the ripples to subside and the surface to re-form as a taut silky sheet touching his chin, enjoying as he did so the exquisite sensation of his body continuing to be hot in the cool water. It was as if a silver film covered him, caressing his limbs. He came back and lay like a stranded fish upon the ramp, his head and shoulders out of the water; and he could feel his skin being dried at once by the burning sun. The mask and breathing tube were within reach, and lying where he was he slipped them on and turned to crawl down the ramp, holding onto the edge of it, his head submerged. It was difficult to keep under water as the mask was buoyant and the stones provided no good hand-hold. He could see very little, but apprehended that the ramp extended at least eight feet under the surface. He threw the mask and tube back, and sank into the water again. This time he tried walking down the ramp but found himself out of his depth before he reached the end of it. He was joined by Murphy who swam round him in a dignified fashion, contriving to keep his fluffy side-whiskers and most of his brown beard high and dry out of the water.
Toby was sorry it was too dark to see under the Water. He thought he would swim down all the same and see if he could touch the bottom of the ramp, to find whether it ended before it reached the floor of the lake. He did not know how deep the lake was just here. Toby was a strong underwater swimmer. Upending himself he dived vertically and found the side of the stone slope with his hand as he began to straighten out under the water. He opened his eyes and saw the opaque green sunlight-penetrated water and the paler stone of the ramp, speckled with moving light from the ripples on the surface. In a moment the ramp had ended, disappearing into the ooze of the lake bottom. Toby's hand plunged into the mud. He withdrew it quickly and shot up to the surface again. After all, the lake was not very deep.
He swam a little farther out and then dived again so that he went vertically down to where the ramp ended and then swam out along the soft lake floor. He opened his eyes, but now there was nothing to be seen except an obscure green light. Fascinated, he clove the very soft ooze with his hands as he glided along. It was so soft, almost as soft and giving as the water, and yet somehow sinister. Supposing he were to find a corpse or something, a human form half buried in that deep ancient deposit? As he thought this thought Toby's hand encountered something hard and rough. Half alarmed he rose to the surface and swam in a circle, panting. He had been under for quite a long time. He got his breath back. What he had touched was doubtless an old tin can, and he examined his hand to make sure he hadn't cut himself. He knew from experience that one can wound oneself quite seriously under water without noticing it. He seemed to be intact. It must be nearly time now to go back to lunch.
He thought he would dive just once more to see what it was that he had touched. He went down