Campbell's Kingdom

by Hammond Innes

  ‘It’s still a snag,’ Garry cut in. He turned to me. ‘I think I told you, Bruce, I could stand two months operating on my own, no more. Well, that’s about the size of it. Boy here says if we’re going to hit oil, we’ll hit it at around five, six thousand. That’s okay, but this isn’t Leduc. We aren’t down in the plains here. There’s this sill he talks about, and down to that it’ll be metamorphic rocks all the way. It’ll be tough going. And on top of that we may drill crooked and have to fool around with a whipstock. Anything could happen in this sort of country. And we’re working on a financial shoe-string with no facilities. We can’t take a core sample. We’ve no geologist. We’ll just have to log on the cuttings—by guess and by God. We’ve no certainty that we’re on top of country that is oil bearing. We’ve no knowledge whatever of the nature of the strata at five thousand feet. We’re working entirely in the dark with minimum crew, no financial backing and against time.’ He sat back, sucking at his cigar. ‘The only clue to what’s under the surface is this story of Campbell’s that thirty years ago he saw some oil on the waters of Thunder Creek.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a hell of a risk.’

  ‘Campbell knew a lot about oil,’ Boy murmured.

  ‘So you tell me.’

  ‘Bruce showed you the old man’s progress report. It’s obvious from that that he’s a sound geologist.’

  ‘Sure. I’ve seen what he’s written, but how do I know that it bears any relation to the ground itself? All I know about Campbell is that he was reckoned to be crazy.’

  ‘I can confirm a good deal of it from my own observations,’ Boy said.

  ‘Yeah, the straightforward stuff. But what about the conclusions he draws? Can you confirm them?’

  ‘There’s nothing particularly revolutionary about them,’ Boy answered. ‘We all know that the oil deposits in the North American continent derive from the marine life deposited on the floor of the central sea area that ran from Hudson’s Bay to the Caribbean. These mountains here are a fairly recent formation. I know most geologists take the view that this is not a likely area. Yet the fact remains that many of the first wells were drilled at points of seepage on the eastern escarpment. Because those wells were not successful it doesn’t necessarily mean that there wasn’t any oil there. They were drilled early in the century and their equipment wasn’t good enough to reach down to any great depth.’

  ‘In two months I won’t be able to drill much deeper than five thousand, not in this sort of country.’ Garry relit his cigar. ‘There’s water here, there’s all the ingredients for making mud of about the right consistency, the weather shouldn’t be too bad from now on and Winnick has a sound reputation, but . . .’ He shook his head gloomily.

  ‘If Louis’s original report had been based on the results we’re now giving him—in other words if those recording tapes hadn’t been switched—Roger Fergus would have drilled a well up here by now.’

  ‘Sure and he would. But I’m not Roger Fergus. He could afford to lose any amount of dough. I can’t. I’m just in the clear and I mean to stay that way.’ He rubbed his fingers along the line of his jaw. ‘The only thing that makes me go on considering the idea is this fifty-fifty proposition of yours, Bruce.’ He stared at me with a sort of puzzled frown. ‘I keep telling myself I’m a fool, but still I keep considering it. Perhaps if I were younger . . .’ He shook his head slowly from side to side like a dog trying to remove a buzzing from its ears. ‘You know if this location were just beside a good highway I guess I’d be crazy enough to fall for your proposition, but how the hell am I to get my rig up here?’

  ‘By the hoist,’ I said.

  He stared at me. ‘But you’ve told me about this fellow Trevedian. He owns the valley of Thunder Creek. He owns the road and he owns the hoist and he doesn’t aim to have any drilling done up here. Because of him I have to come here at dead of night, hide my wagon in the brush and ride up here. All this tom-foolery because he’s got guards on the valley route and now you tell me you’re going to bring my rig up by the hoist.’

  ‘I think it can be done,’ I said. ‘Once.’

  ‘I see.’ His leathery face cracked in a grin. ‘You’re going to play it rough, eh? Well, I don’t know that I blame you, considering what you’ve told me. But I’ve got my equipment to think of.’

  ‘It’s insured, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah, but I don’t know how the insurance company would view my acting outside the law, busting through two guard points and then slinging my equipment up through a mile of space to a mountain eyrie. How do I get it down anyway?’

  ‘I don’t think there’ll be any difficulty about that,’ I said. ‘If you bring in a well here, you won’t need to get it down. And if you don’t then I think you’ll find Trevedian only too happy to give you a free passage out of the area.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He nodded slowly. ‘That’s reasonable, I guess. What about the cable? Will it take my equipment?’

  ‘I don’t know what the breaking point is,’ I said. ‘But I’ve been up it and from what I’ve seen it’ll take about three or four times the tonnage that can be got on to the cage.’ I turned to Boy. ‘You brought your trucks up by it last year. What’s your view? Will it take Garry’s rig?’

  ‘I don’t think you need worry about that, Garry,’ he said. ‘It’s like Bruce says. The thing is built to carry a heavy tonnage.’

  He nodded slowly. ‘And how do you propose we get the use of this hoist? As I understand it, there’s a guard at the entrance to Thunder Creek, another at the hoist terminal and near the terminal there’s a camp. I’ll have five, possibly six trucks—’ He hesitated. ‘Yes, it will be at least six trucks if we’re to haul in everything we need for the whole operation, including fuel and pipe.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s a heck of an operation, you know. We’ll need two tankers for a start and two truck-loads of pipe. Then there’s the rig, draw works, all equipment, tools, spares, everything. And casing.’ He hesitated and looked across at Boy. ‘We’d have to take a chance on that. In this sort of country it might be all right. Well, say seven trucks. That’ll mean a minimum of four to five hours at the hoist. Now how the hell do you think you’re going to fix that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘At least, I think I know, but I’ve not worked out all the details yet. Anyway, that’s my problem. If you’re game to try I’ll give you an undertaking to get your equipment up here. If I fail I’ll undertake to make good any loss you have sustained. How’s that?’

  ‘Very generous,’ he said. ‘Except that I understand you only possess a few hundred dollars.’

  ‘I’d sell the Kingdom,’ I said, ‘to meet the obligation.’

  ‘To Fergus? But—’ He stopped and looked down at his hands. ‘Knowing how you feel about this place . . .’ He hesitated, sucking on his cigar. Then he lumbered to his feet. ‘Okay, Bruce,’ he said, gripping my hand. ‘You get my stuff up here and I’ll accept your proposition and drill you a well.’ He hesitated. ‘That is, providing Winnick gives me a written report on the two traverses when they’re completed and that report is good.’

  We settled down then to work out the details. Everything that would be required from the time Garry spudded in to the time he brought in a well, presuming that he did, would have to be trucked in on the one operation. It meant buying or hiring trucks and tankers. It worked out at seven vehicles. Seven separate trips on the hoist with difficult loadings between each trip. Boy was a help here for he was able to give us some idea of the time he had taken to load his trucks and off-load them at the other end. It meant allowing forty minutes minimum for each truck, to cover loading, the trip up to the dam, off-loading and the running down of the empty cage. We went through all the stores we should require—tools, spares, pipe, casing, food, cigarettes, bedding, oils, mud chemicals suitable for all types of strata; an endless list. Bill and Don agreed to stay on and become roughnecks, so that additional personnel was reduced to six, which allowed two teams of four and the rest of us available to coo
k, hunt, stand in for anyone sick and generally organise the operation.

  We finished just after two in the morning and went to bed, but for ages I couldn’t get to sleep as my mind went over and over the lists we had made out. Several times I switched on my torch and made a note of something that had occurred to me. Under the agreement that I was making with Boy and Garry the drilling was their responsibility, but I was convinced that neither of them fully appreciated what the situation would be once we had got the rig and equipment up to the Kingdom. There would be no going down for things we had forgotten. We should be isolated up here in the mountains. Trevedian would see to that. Anything we had omitted from our lists we would have to do without. I had explained this to them, but Garry had shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘Sure, but there’s always the pony trail.’ I had left it at that. I saw no reason to scare him by explaining to him the lengths to which I should have to go to carry out my side of the bargain and get the rig up the hoist.

  Boy took Garry down the next day. ‘If everything goes well I’ll be seeing you in about three weeks,’ Garry said as he shook my hand. And then he added, ‘You’re sure you can get us up the hoist?’

  ‘If I don’t I’ve got to sell up to pay your expenses,’ I said. ‘Isn’t that enough of a guarantee?’

  ‘Sure and it is, but I’d like to know just how you’re going to fix it. A bit of bribery and corruption, eh?’ He laughed and slapped me on the shoulder.

  If he liked to think it could be done by bribery . . . I smiled and said nothing.

  ‘Well, see you let me have details before I bring my convoy up.’

  ‘I will,’ I said. ‘I’ll mail you full instructions in advance.’

  ‘Okay.’ He nodded and hauled himself up on to his horse. ‘Be seeing you, Bruce.’ He waved his hand and started up towards the Saddle.

  When Boy got in that night he was packing the haunches of a deer on the back of his saddle. Stocks of canned food were running low and fresh meat was a welcome sight. All we lacked was flour to bake bread.

  In the days that followed Boy and the rest of his team worked from first light till darkness to complete the longitudinal traverse. All the time the geophysical work was going on we were very conscious of the growing activity at the dam. Each day when the weather was good I rode up to an outcrop above the buttress and had a look at what they were doing. Once when it was fine I climbed a shoulder of the northern peak of Solomon’s Judgment. From this eyrie I could see the camp. It was now clear of all sapling growth with paths beginning to be worn between the quarters and the dining hall and the cookhouse and the latrines. It seemed filling up with men. Trucks were coming into the hoist regularly. As soon as they were off-loaded a grab crane filled them up with hard core from the slide and they went out loaded with stone. Further down the valley I caught glimpses through my glasses of road gangs working, spreading hard core on sections where the surface was breaking up.

  Two days later the peace of the Kingdom was shattered by an explosion that ran a thundering echo round the mountains. I didn’t need to ride out to my rock outcrop to know what it was. They were blasting at the quarries on either side of the dam. The construction work had begun. When I did get up to my vantage point I saw the whole area of the dam crawling with workers. Rails were laid out and tip wagons were trundling back and forth. Giant cement mixers were rattling away and loads of rock were being slung across by cable to the centre of the dam.

  The race was on and we hadn’t even got our rig up.

  ‘How long do you reckon they’ll take?’ Boy asked when he got in that night. His dark face was sullen and moody.

  ‘We’ve plenty of time,’ I said.

  But it had a depressing effect on all of us. After supper we all walked as far as the buttress. There was a young moon and we wanted to see what the new construction looked like. My one fear was that they’d work at night. But I suppose it was too cold that early in the season to work shifts round the clock. As it was they had to use large quantities of straw to protect the new concrete from frost. We went down as far as the hoist. In the queer light everything looked flat and white, a dead world from which man seemed suddenly to have vanished leaving the orderly evidence of their industry behind them.

  ‘I think I never saw such starved ignoble nature,’ Boy quoted. And then he added, ‘It seems the ultimate in futility—all this effort to build a hundred-foot high rampart and all around Nature has raised great peaks to seven and eight thousand feet.’

  ‘Isn’t that the measure of our greatness?’ Don said. ‘We go on, whatever the odds.’

  ‘Ants,’ Bill said. ‘It’s all comparative. Compare these peaks with the stars, with the limitlessness of space.’

  ‘Is it worth it—the efforts we make?’ Boy asked.

  Bill looked across at me. ‘What do you say, Bruce?’

  I shrugged my shoulders. ‘What is anything but an idea?’ I turned away, climbing the slope of the mountain. I didn’t like Boy’s mood. There was a note of fatalism in it.

  From higher up the mountain we looked down on the deep shadows of Thunder Creek. Lights twinkled below us, marking the camp, and an up-draught of air brought the sound of a radio to us and the lilt of a dance band, mingled with the murmur of a diesel engine. A battery of arc lights surrounded the hoist terminal where loaded trucks were parked, waiting for the morning, and far down the valley the headlights of a vehicle weaved their tortuous way up through the timbered slopes of Thunder Creek.

  ‘We’re wasting our time, fooling around on a survey up here,’ Boy murmured moodily.

  ‘What makes you say that?’ I asked him.

  ‘There must be nearly a hundred men down in that camp now. You haven’t a hope in hell of getting one truck, let alone seven, up that hoist.’

  ‘The number of men doesn’t make much difference,’ I said.

  ‘Are you crazy? Well if the number of men doesn’t make any difference, what about those arc lights?’

  ‘We’ll need them to load by.’

  He gripped my arm. ‘Just what are you planning to do?’

  I hesitated, but I decided not to tell him what was in my mind. The less anybody knew about it the better. ‘All in good time,’ I said. ‘Let’s go back and get some sleep.’

  But he didn’t move. ‘You can’t take on that outfit. It’s too big, and you know it. The whole thing is too organised.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to disorganise it.’

  He stared at me, his mouth falling open. ‘You’re not planning to—’ He checked himself and passed his hand wearily across his face. ‘No, I guess you wouldn’t be that crazy, but—’ His hand gripped my arm. ‘I wish I could see into your mind, Bruce. Sometimes I feel I’m on the edge of a precipice and you’re a stranger. There’s something inside of you that brushes things aside, that isn’t quite of this world. You know you’re licked and yet you get people like me and Louis and even a tough character like Garry Keogh to string along. What’s driving you?’

  ‘I thought you were as keen about this thing as I was,’ I said, keeping my voice low.

  ‘Sure I am, but—’ He waved his hand towards the lights in the valley. ‘I know when it’s time to back down. You don’t.’ He caught hold of my arm as though he were about to say something further. Then he let it drop. ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It’s time we got back.’

  He was very silent the next few days. Often I’d catch him looking at me and I got the impression he was a little afraid of me. Like most Canadians, he was a very law-abiding person. Conflicts such as we had been involved in during the war were alien—a gun was for use against the wild, equipment was man’s tools to tame Nature, human life was something you travel two, three hundred miles to shake by the hand.

  On May 29th, Boy completed the longitudinal traverse and the following morning he left for Calgary with the recordings. Before he left I gave him a letter for Garry Keogh, instructing him to move up with his vehicles to 150-Mile House not later than 5th June. I would contact h
im there. I enclosed a signed undertaking to reimburse him for all expenses if I failed to get the rig up to the Kingdom and Boy had with him my agreement to split profits fifty-fifty with those involved in the development of the property. I also gave Boy a letter to Winnick in which I asked him to let Keogh have a report signed by him and if that report were optimistic I asked him to drop a hint here and there amongst the oil company scouts. I was preparing the ground for the possibility of ultimately having to fight a legal battle. He had with him also a final list of items we required.

  I rode with him part of the way up to the Saddle. It was sleeting and the mountains were grey hulks half hidden by mist. The wind blew through our clothing and the horses hung their heads as they plodded up the mountainside. Halfway up, however, the clouds lifted, the snow on Solomon’s Judgment showed the white sweeps of the cornices and the sleet moved away from us in a leaden curtain towards the east. At the edge of a shelf of rock over which the horses had to be led I turned back. Boy gripped my hand. ‘I hope it turns out as you want it, Bruce.’

  ‘I’m sure it will,’ I said. ‘You’ll come straight back?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll be back inside of a week.’

  ‘And you’ll cable me the result at the Golden Calf.’

  ‘Sure. And don’t worry about the rig. If I know Garry he won’t be waiting for Louis’s final report. He’ll be getting team and equipment together right now.’

  ‘I hope so,’ I said. ‘Every day we delay weakens our chances of bringing in a well before the dam is completed.’

  ‘Sure. I know.’

  ‘And don’t forget that telephone equipment.’

  He looked up at me, his head on one side. ‘Would that have something to do with your plans to get the rig up the hoist?’

  ‘Without it we’re sunk,’ I said.

  ‘Okay. I’ll remember.’ He waved his hand and started across the rock shelf. It was wet and it gleamed like armour plate. I watched him for a moment and then turned my horse and began to descend. I hadn’t gone far before the sun came out and suddenly it was warm and spring had come to the Kingdom. The emerald green of the grass was splashed with the colours of flowers like a huge meadow. I stopped and stared down at it, absorbing the warmth of the sun, thinking how beautiful it was—the dark band of the timber below me, the silver thread of water in the colours of the bowl and beyond, the mountains, warm and brown till rock merged into the glittering white of the snows. Away to the right I could just see the far end of the dam. Figures were moving there like ants and the stillness of the air was sullied by the rattle of concrete mixers. I wondered how the Kingdom would look when all its beauty was a sheet of water and I went on down through the timber hating the thought of it.