An Old Captivity

by Nevil Shute

  The pilot looked at their camp with a new interest: “Are you going to have a crack at it?”

  “It’s not worth the time. I want to have a go at that church, over on the other side. But it’s the Celtic influence that I’m really interested in. That means coming here again next year, after we’ve had the winter to digest what’s in the photographs.”

  Ross said: “When we’ve done the survey you’d better come up with me, sir, and have a good look at it all by eye.”

  The don nodded. “I’ll do that. But the main thing I want to do is to start digging on that church site, the one you saw in the air photograph at Oxford. That’s about three miles from here.”

  They supped off a meat stew cooked over the wood fire, with biscuits and jam. Around them the dusk fell. There was no real night in that latitude; the clear sky turned to a deep blue against which the hills made undulating black silhouettes. To the west of them two glaciers ran down from the ice-cap, which itself could be seen between the hills, a dark grey shadow under the indigo sky. It grew bitterly cold. From time to time Ross left the fire and went down to the beach to adjust the mooring ropes of the seaplane to the rising tide.

  Presently the tide was full and it was necessary for him to stay down on the beach to fend the seaplane off and prevent her from grounding too soon. At last, at midnight, he pulled in the tail ropes and let her touch upon the sand. He waited for a time as the tide fell till he was satisfied that she was sitting evenly on both floats and coming to no harm. Then he went back to the tents.

  Alix was already in her tent and in her sleeping-bag, laid out upon a bed of birch twigs gathered by the Eskimos.

  Ross joined Lockwood in the other tent, undressed, and got into his sleeping-bag. It had been an easy day, but he had much to occupy his mind. He reached out and took a tablet of his Troxigin, and slept.

  He woke in broad daylight, with Lockwood shaking him by the shoulder and looking at him curiously. “Time to get up,” said the don. “It’s after seven o’clock.”

  The pilot sat up, still bemused with sleep. Lockwood noticed that he was trembling. “Did you sleep all right?” he asked.

  The pilot passed an unsteady hand across his eyes. “I had the hell of a dream,” he muttered.

  Lockwood asked quietly: “What was it about?”

  “I don’t know. Yes I do—it was about a bear. It came up out of the ice, because of the seal. It wanted to get at the carcass, you see. All I had was one of those little short spears, for seals, and I fought it with that.”

  He stared around him, and began to get out of his sleeping-bag. “Bloody funny, the things one dreams.”

  “What happened after that?”

  “After what, sir?” Already the dream was fading from his memory.

  “After you began fighting with the bear?”

  The pilot laughed. “Oh, I don’t know. I woke up.”

  He dressed, and went out of the tent. The machine was still safely aground, the sea was calm, the day was bright. He passed a hand wearily across his eyes. He was unrefreshed by his sleep, as always seemed to be the case these days. He had a great feeling of relief that he was awake. There had been a dream … what was it about? He could not remember. Already it had sunk into the subconscious.

  Alix came out of her tent. “’Morning, Miss Lockwood,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

  “Splendidly, thanks. How did you?”

  “Not so bad.”

  She glanced at him. “Haggard” was the word that came into her mind; she thought that he was looking awfully tired. “Really?” she asked.

  “Well, I slept all the time. You can’t do more than that.”

  She said a little doubtfully: “I suppose not.”

  An hour later they were loading the machine with films, and a small quantity of provisions and camp gear in case of forced landing. They got on board and started up the engine; the Eskimos waded into the water and turned the seaplane towards the entrance to the cove, and she moved out into the fiord. Ross swung her round into the wind, and took off. Lockwood stood watching them for a few minutes; then he left for Brattalid with Mayark, leaving Ajago to mind the camp and help with the machine when it came back.

  All morning the seaplane flew up and down, backwards and forwards over hill, mountain, and fiord in exactly parallel lines. Alix sat huddled by the camera at the rear of the cabin, alert and intent on her work; ahead of her the pilot sat hunched at the wheel, staring at the horizon ahead of him, glancing from time to time down through the drift sight. Once a film jammed in the camera and they landed in a fiord to clear it; then they took off again and went on with the job.

  They landed opposite the camp at about half-past twelve, both strained and tired with the concentration. Ajago was standing waist-deep in the icy water of the cove as they taxied in; he caught the float as it came to him and the seaplane grounded gently on the sand.

  Ross swung round in his seat. “That went all right, didn’t it?”

  Alix got up stiffly; she was cold and very tired. “I think it did. The films went through the camera, anyway.”

  Ross nodded. “They’re probably all right. We’ll get on shore and have a bit of lunch. Then we’ll pick one of them at random and develop it.”

  They got down on to the float, and so to shore. Alix went up to the camp; Ross stayed behind with Ajago to see the seaplane settled. Together they put her in position and let her ground at once upon the falling tide.

  After lunch they began their preparations for developing. The smaller of the two tents, the one that Alix slept in, had been made of a specially lined fabric for conversion to a dark room. They turned out her bed and all her kit, set up a little table in the tent, drew a couple of buckets of water from the stream, unpacked the chemicals and dishes, and began their work.

  They spent the afternoon huddled together in the dark tent. Each spool of film carried a hundred exposures and was about fifty feet long. Working in close, intimate contact with each other in the darkness they cut the last few feet off two spools taken at random, developed the pieces, and fixed them. After a couple of hours they emerged blinking from the tent and examined the results critically.

  “Well,” said Ross, “they’re quite all right. A bit on the dark side perhaps.”

  The girl said: “That means a smaller stop, doesn’t it?”

  “That’s right.” He scrutinised the detail carefully. “I don’t know that we’ve got sufficient overlap for safety. We’ll have to do something about that.”

  They put the films back into the bucket, carried it down to the stream, and washed them carefully. Then they packed up the photographic gear again and put the bed back into the tent. They were both tired. Ajago had a kettle boiling on the fire; they made themselves tea and sat down by the tent. Alix asked: “How long will it take to do the whole thing, Mr. Ross?”

  He yawned. “Four or five days for the big survey, if we get along like this. And then two days for the little one.”

  She thought for a minute. “That means that we’d be finished about Thursday of next week.”

  He shook his head. “We shan’t go on like this each day. The weather may break. But, anyway, there’s the petrol to think about. We’ve got enough petrol to do a flight to-morrow, but then we’ve got to go to Julianehaab to fill up. That’s going to waste a day. Two days survey and one day refuelling is about the best we’ll do.”

  He yawned again. She said: “Why don’t you lie down and have a rest?”

  He smiled at her. “I believe I will. She won’t float for another couple of hours.”

  “Don’t bother about the seaplane, Mr. Ross. We can look after her—Ajago and I. Go on and get some sleep, and I’ll call you in time for supper.”

  He shook his head. “I’d like to be about while she’s afloat. She’s not too safe where she is, and we don’t want to stick a rock through a pontoon. But I could use a little sleep.”

  He went and lay down on his bed, having set the alarm clock for
seven o’clock. He went to sleep at once, and slept quietly, without dreaming. It seemed only an instant before the alarm went off in his ear. He roused, rolled over, and came out of the tent rubbing his eyes.

  Lockwood was back in camp, after a day’s digging on the church site with Mayark. They discussed the survey for a few minutes; then Ross went down to the seaplane, now just afloat, and spend some time adjusting the mooring ropes. He stayed there till they called him up to the camp for supper.

  In the evening they strolled a little way up on to the hill and stood looking out over the wild and barren countryside. “This was the hell of a place to come to for a colony,” said Ross.

  The don nodded. “It’s not attractive. But Norway was overcrowded in those days—too many people for the land to support. They had to get out and go somewhere else. They had battle after battle with the English, trying to settle in our country. They didn’t have much luck in Scotland, or in Ireland. They got quite a good colony going in Iceland, and then they came on here as an experiment.”

  “Which didn’t work,” said Alix.

  “It worked for the first couple of hundred years. They had about two thousand people here.”

  The pilot said: “I suppose all they needed was a square deal from the mother country, and they didn’t get it.”

  The don said: “But for that, they might have been here still.”

  They went back to the camp, and strolled down to readjust the lines mooring the seaplane. High tide that night was at about eleven o’clock, and low water at five in the morning. If the machine were to be afloat at eight in readiness for an early start upon the survey, she must be kept afloat till two in the morning, and not allowed to ground before then. By this schedule Ross would get five hours’ sleep at the most, if he stayed up to see the seaplane safely grounded.

  Alix was very upset when she heard this proposal. “That’s not good enough, Mr. Ross,” she said. “You’ve got to get a longer night than that.”

  “That’s all right,” the pilot said. “I got a couple of hours’ sleep this afternoon.”

  The girl persisted: “Even with that, it’s not enough—and anyway, you weren’t asleep much longer than an hour.” She turned to her father. “Daddy, we’ll have to do something different. We can’t go on like this.”

  Lockwood said mildly: “I can stay up and see the seaplane safely grounded, Mr. Ross.”

  Ross said, a little shortly: “It’s awfully good of you, sir. But really, I’m quite all right, and I’d rather do it myself.”

  Alix said: “But, Mr. Ross, you’ve got to have a decent night. You can’t stay up till after two and then fly all day to-morrow.”

  The conflicting strain of the girl’s presence, of her solicitude for him, and of his technical responsibilities made him burst out in irritation. “I’m perfectly all right, Miss Alix,” he said sourly. “I’m going to see that seaplane safely on the beach, and we’ll take off to-morrow morning at nine o’clock. It’s very good of you to bother about me and I’d much rather that you didn’t. I’ve got my job to do, and that’s to keep that seaplane in the air and working. And I’d like to do it in my own way, please.”

  There was a pregnant silence.

  The don said pleasantly: “Mr. Ross is quite right, my dear. He knows what he’s got to do, and we can’t help him with advice. Now, you run off to bed and get some sleep yourself.”

  She turned, and went into her tent without a word to either of them, worried and furious with both the men.

  Ross smoked a pipe with Lockwood by the blazing fire; the older man kept the conversation carefully upon safe topics. Then he turned in at about eleven o’clock and the pilot sat on by the fire alone, tired and irritated. If only he could be left alone! He knew that he had hurt the girl and he hated himself for doing it … but they must, must let him alone. He’d never get through this job unless he could give his whole mind and energy to it. He must be left to work in his own way.

  He sat crouched over the camp fire, brooding and unhappy. From time to time he went down to the water’s edge and adjusted the mooring lines; then he returned to the fire and sat by it again.

  The slow hours went by. At two o’clock he let the seaplane go aground, and stayed with her for half an hour to satisfy himself that the floats were resting evenly upon the sand. Then he went up to the tent, took a tablet of his Troxigin, and got into his sleeping-bag for a short night; by three o’clock he was asleep, restless and uneasy in his sleep.

  By nine o’clock they were in the air again. Relations were a little strained; Alix was distant and aloof and the pilot was too tired to make any effort to put matters right. The photography that they had done the previous day had ironed out all initial difficulties and they had little need to talk except in monosyllables. For three hours they sat in the machine flying backwards and forwards on the survey, Ross sunk deep in the depression of fatigue, the girl still smarting at her rebuff.

  They landed after that, and beached the seaplane. Lockwood was away at Brattalid with Mayark. Ross and Alix lunched and spent the afternoon in the dark-room tent, talking in occasional monosyllables as they developed part of a spool of film.

  When that was over, the pilot went into his own tent, lay down, and sank into a heavy sleep at once. Alix cleared away the photographic gear and put her tent in order; then she began to prepare supper, with Ajago to help her. She was still working when Lockwood came back at about six o’clock.

  He asked where Ross was; she motioned to the tent. “He’s in there, fast asleep. I wouldn’t wake him, Daddy—let him sleep. I had a look at him just now.”

  He nodded and sat down beside her. “I wouldn’t dream of waking him. Let him get all the sleep he can.”

  She smiled, a little bitterly. “That isn’t very much. He’s set his alarm clock for nine o’clock; I said I’d get him his supper then.” She paused, and then she said: “I’ve got a good mind to chuck that clock into the fiord.”

  Her father asked: “What’s happening about the machine to-night?”

  She said: “He’s going to sit up till four in the morning, as far as I can make it out. Low tide is at half-past five, and he wants to take off at eight o’clock to go to Julianehaab to get filled up with petrol.”

  “Can’t he go later?”

  “He’s afraid of the fog coming down in the afternoon, like it does sometimes.”

  The don nodded slowly. “I see. That means the seaplane mustn’t ground till after three in the morning.”

  “I think that’s it. I do wish he’d let us look after that. It’s only just pushing her off, and making sure she doesn’t ground before the right time.”

  He shook his head. “He’d never let anybody else do that.”

  She said irritably: “I know he wouldn’t. But he’s just wearing himself out over it. I think he’s looking awful.”

  There was a silence. Presently her father said: “I really don’t know what to do about it, while this good weather lasts. If only we could have a decent gale he’d have to get her up on shore and lash her down, and then he’d get a real rest. But I’m afraid we’ll never get him to give up and rest while this good weather runs away to waste.”

  She sighed. “I know. It’s awfully difficult.”

  Lockwood began to tell her of his dig at Brattalid. He had unearthed a runic stone and made a rubbing of it, and he had cleared a good portion of the floor of the big church. The girl said: “I’ll come over with you to-morrow, Daddy. I’d like to see it, and Mr. Ross won’t want me for the flight to Julianehaab.”

  They strolled a little way up the hill, and got back to their camp at about eight o’clock. Ajago and Mayark were just leaving to go to their own camp for the night; a stew was ready to be put on the fire for cooking. Alix said in Danish:

  “Do you still want to sleep over there? It is much better here.”

  Ajago shook his head emphatically. “It is very bad here at night. This is a bad place to sleep. One gets ill.”

  The
girl smiled patiently. “Nobody is ill here, Ajago.”

  The man said: “One is ill. Rogg is ill. This is a very bad place to camp.”

  The girl fixed her smile. “All right, you go along to your own camp. Be over here early in the morning.”

  She watched them pensively as they went away, then turned and told her father what Ajago had said. He stood for a minute looking after them. “It’s quite absurd, of course,” he said at last. “But that’s how superstitions grow up in a primitive community. If Ross should get ill now, in this camp, the reputation of the place would be enormously increased.”

  She turned away, shivering a little. “I think it’s about time to start and cook the supper.”

  An hour later the alarm went off; presently Ross joined them by the fire. He was refreshed by his sleep, and feeling well. “It’s funny about this place,” he said. “I seem to sleep a damn sight better in the daytime than I do at night. Has anybody else noticed that?”

  The others shook their heads.

  The pilot said: “I think the reason is, it’s not so cold. I believe my head gets cold at night, or something. I always seem to wake up with a bit of a headache in the morning. I’ll have to buy myself a woolly nightcap in Julianehaab.”

  Alix laughed. “You won’t get that in Julianehaab.”

  “Just the sort of place you would get it. The governor’s got one, probably. I bet they all sleep in nightshirts, if they sleep in anything at all.”

  They sat smoking round the fire for an hour after supper; then Lockwood and Alix went to bed. Ross went down to the shore and adjusted the moorings; the machine was just afloat. Then he settled down for his long watch; for the first hour or two he sat beside the fire, paying only occasional visits to the shore.

  At half-past twelve the falling tide made it necessary for him to move down to the beach and keep on pushing off the seaplane. He sat there drowsily, cold and stiff, getting up every now and then to adjust the ropes. Presently, at about two o’clock, he heard a movement on the path down from the camp. It was Alix; in her hands she held a steaming mug.