Explorers of the New Century

by Magnus Mills

  “Mark my words, Mr Johns,” replied Scagg. “Even the keenest volunteer needs the occasional prod in the right direction.”

  “Well, all right, if you say so,” said Johns. “You certainly seem to have the measure of the men.”

  A second consequence of this policy was that Summerfield had become de facto leader of the expedition. His enthusiasm apparently undampened by Johns’s cautionary words, it was always he who chose where they camped overnight, since he invariably arrived first. During the days of the gales he demonstrated an acute ability in judging the ideal times to rest, pause, or come to a full halt. Often the tail-enders entered a new site to find a rudimentary dyke already under construction, with the suggested position for the field kitchen carefully marked out. At other times Summerfield would get the stove set up temporarily, so that a hot malt drink awaited his comrades when they caught up. Johns seemed content to allow him to continue in the role of trailblazer (so long as he didn’t get too far ahead) and remarked to Scagg that this freed them to concentrate on logistical matters. For some while they had been holding regular consultations on the state of their supplies; these being based on Scagg’s figures. Regard was also given to the distance covered so far, and the estimated journey ahead. Accordingly, at the end of the twelfth day’s march across the scree, Johns and Scagg were occupied in their tent, heads together over a page of calculations.

  “Yes, I quite agree,” Johns concluded at length. “Tomorrow would seem to be most opportune. And you think he can do it on his own?”

  “I’ve no doubt at all,” said Scagg. “He’s a very capable man when he applies himself.”

  “Very well. Could you ask him to come and see me?”

  “Beg your pardon, but I’ve already taken the liberty. This should be him on his way now.”

  There was a crunching of heavy boots outside the tent, followed by a polite cough, after which Cook’s head appeared in the opening. “You wanted to see me, Mr Johns, sir?”

  “Yes, Cook. Step inside, will you?”

  Cook did as he was instructed, removing his woolly helmet and clutching it in one hand behind his back. Meanwhile, Scagg stood up and went out. Johns ran his eye over the calculations once more, then glanced at the man before him.

  “Fancy a change, Cook?” he said.

  “I don’t mind, sir.”

  “Well, there’s a task I’d like you to do for me.”

  “Sir.”

  “I want you to act as a relay.”

  “Sir?”

  “Take four mules and make your way back to the blockhouse.”

  “Oh, right, sir.”

  “Have a rest for a day or two; then, when you judge the conditions are correct, bring out all the remaining supplies. Come only as far as Summerfield’s Depression. With luck we’ll meet you there on our return journey. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good,” said Johns. “You can leave first thing tomorrow. See Seddon for some rations and any equipment you think you may need. Now, at present you share a tent with Medleycott and Sargent, don’t you?”

  “I do, sir, yes.”

  “All right, well, I think I’ll pay them a visit and explain what’s happening. Lead on, will you, Cook?”

  A few moments later they emerged into the night, where the only illumination came in the form of a weak glow emanating from each of the other three tents. The rest of the camp lay hidden from view as the tireless wind swept over it. Carefully avoiding an array of guy ropes, Cook led the way to his own tent and parted the flaps.

  “After you, Mr Johns,” he announced in a loud voice.

  Inside, the lamp revealed Medleycott and Sargent reclining against their kit bags. Both peered casually towards the doorway before sitting up sharply to clear a space for their unexpected guest. “No need for ceremony,” said Johns, ducking inside. With a gleeful look on his face, Cook slipped in behind him. After exchanging a few pleasantries with his men, Johns made some general enquiries into their well-being. He listened earnestly to their replies, then told them about Cook’s imminent departure. “This marks the beginning of the second stage of our operation,” he expanded. “It has all been worked out by Scagg and myself, and means we should be fully supplied for our return journey. The other side of the coin is that we’ll be going on with four less mules than before, so I’m afraid we’ll be obliged to jettison some of our gear. We’ll be abandoning one of the tents when we leave here tomorrow, as well as select other items, and these measures should help reduce our overall burden. The large telescope, for example, has proved superfluous to requirements, so it can stay behind. Personally I’ll be sacrificing my camp table, which I’ve come to regard as an unnecessary luxury. If any of you wish to make similar gestures they will be greatly appreciated.”

  “We will try to give it some thought,” offered Medleycott, at the end of an expectant silence.

  “Excellent,” said Johns. “Well, I’ll bid you all good night now, and I apologise for disturbing your evening. Do make sure you get plenty of rest, Cook.”

  “I will, thank you, sir. Good night.”

  Johns went on to make similar calls at the other tents, imparting the news to their respective occupants. Then he returned to join Scagg, who was again studying his book of figures by lamplight.

  “I thought Cook took it rather well,” Johns remarked. “There he was, faced with countless days of isolation, yet he didn’t raise a murmur. Quite admirable really.”

  “I expect he’ll turn it to his advantage,” said Scagg. “Cook usually does.”

  “By the way, have you had a chance to go over the new sleeping arrangements?”

  “I’m just looking at them now, sir. If it’s all right with you, I think I’ll put Seddon in with Chase, Blanchflower and Firth; then Plover and Summerfield can join Medleycott and Sargent.”

  “Four to a tent,” said Johns. “It’s going to be a tight squeeze for them all, isn’t it?”

  “Fairly tight, yes.”

  “Well, maybe we should consider letting one of them share with us?”

  “I’m sorry, Mr Johns, but I just won’t hear of it,” Scagg replied. “You need your privacy much more than they do.”

  §

  Next morning Cook made the most of his breakfast, returning to Seddon for second and then third helpings. These he was allowed, along with some substantial rations. Sitting on his pack in the lee of the stone dyke, Cook then held forth about the hazards of his impending journey. “I’ll be friendless and all alone,” he whined. “Lost in the wilderness without even a guiding star.”

  “Oh, give it a rest,” said Sargent. “All you’ve got to do is follow the trail we came up.”

  “I might have known you’d be sympathetic,” replied Cook.

  “Here,” said Medleycott, passing him a bar of chocolate. “Take a piece of this; it’ll help sustain you during your odyssey.”

  Cook thanked him and prepared to leave. Standing up, he cast his eyes around the encampment. “Nice here, isn’t it?” he remarked. “I’ll really miss this place. Marvellous scenery.”

  By now Johns and Scagg had come over and joined the main group.

  “Good luck then, Cook,” said Johns, proffering his hand. “And we’ll see you at Summerfield’s Depression.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Cook replied, before turning to the assembled men. “Well, everybody, I’ll be thinking of you with envy when I get back to the blockhouse. You’ll be enjoying the luxury of your utility blankets, while I’ll have to put up with sheets, pillows and a mattress.”

  “All right, Cook, that’ll do,” murmured Scagg. “Now get a move on or we’ll send someone else.”

  Cook saluted, snatched up his pack and with a hearty farewell disappeared in the direction of the mules. A few moments later he could be heard detaching the four he had chosen for the journey; then he was gone. After breakfast the camp was dismantled. At the same time a depot was established, consisting of the surplus tent and numerous other i
tems deemed no longer necessary. A small cache of emergency provisions was also left at this point. Johns expressed himself well pleased with the resulting ‘lightweight’ expedition that prepared to leave an hour later. In addition, he read out the names of the men who would occupy each remaining tent. Plover appeared to have some difficulty absorbing this announcement, and asked for the list to be repeated. Once he’d heard it again he lapsed into silence.

  Just prior to departure, Scagg was approached by Blanchflower and Firth, who spoke to him with some urgency. He in turn asked for a discreet word with Johns.

  “What is it, Scagg?” Johns enquired, when they’d moved away from the other men.

  “Cook has taken four females,” Scagg replied. “Blanchflower and Firth noticed when they were loading up. He should have used two of each gender, shouldn’t he?”

  “Of course he should,” said Johns. “One would have thought that was obvious to anybody.”

  “I suppose no one explained it to him?”

  “Well, I certainly didn’t.”

  “Neither did I.”

  “How irksome! It means we’ll have fewer mating pairs available.”

  “Shall I send Sargent after him?”

  Johns sighed and slowly shook his head. “No, Scagg, he’ll be too far away by now. We can’t afford to lose any more time, not with the supplies beginning to dwindle. It will just have to be another case of managing with the mules we have. And I suppose we can hardly blame Cook if we didn’t spell it out syllable by syllable.”

  There was a short pause as Scagg cleared his throat. This caused Johns to glance at him quickly. “Is there something else?”

  “I’m afraid I’ve blundered too, sir,” Scagg answered. Reaching into his pocket he produced a key, which he allowed to rest in the palm of his hand. “I forgot to hang this on the hook when we left the blockhouse. The door’s locked.”

  “Dear oh dear, Scagg,” said Johns. “That’s very unlike you.”

  “I know, sir, and I really must apologise. I can only think my mind was otherwise engaged. Fortunately, the reserve supplies were all stacked outside, so they’ll be quite accessible to Cook.”

  “Fortunate indeed.”

  “But he’ll miss out on his sheets, pillows and mattress.”

  “Well, well,” uttered Johns. “Maybe he’ll learn not to be so damned clever in future. I presume he’s still got his utility blanket?”

  “Yes, and a spare one as well, I think.”

  “All right then. He’ll simply have to wrap up warm at night, won’t he?”

  Their meeting concluded, the pair turned and rejoined the rest of the party.

  “How’s the wind, Chase?” Johns asked.

  “Dead ahead, sir,” came the answer. “No change since yesterday.”

  “Looks as if there’s another hard march in store for us. Can you tell Summerfield we’re ready to proceed?”

  “Very well, sir.”

  “Oh, and Chase,” Johns added. “When you come to mark this place on the map, put it down as Cook’s Folly, will you?”

  “As you wish.”

  Johns waited while Chase went forward and passed the word to Summerfield. Then, after another minute, the mule train began moving. Slowly it advanced into the darkness, with Blanchflower and Firth at its head, while the rest of the men fell in behind. Eventually only Plover and Johns were left.

  “Everything all right, Plover?” Johns asked, when Plover failed to stir.

  “Yes, quite all right, thank you,” Plover replied.

  “And you’re enjoying our little jaunt, I hope?”

  “So far, yes.”

  “Good. Good.” Johns waited a little longer, and then said, “Well, off you go then, Plover, or we’ll both be left behind.”

  “Of course, Mr Johns, so sorry,” said Plover, turning abruptly and setting off in pursuit. Johns watched him for a few moments before following in his tracks.

  The way they went was over yet another ridge in the apparently endless scree. For twelve consecutive days the party had toiled up, then down, then always up again. This morning, however, as dawn gradually drew near, a change seemed to be imminent. After they’d mounted a second ridge they found that subsequently the gradient continued to decline, with no indication of any further rise. The gale still blasted them without mercy, but nonetheless by the time they stopped for a break a mood of optimism was abroad. Sitting in the subdued light of noon, their backs to the wind, Johns and Scagg discussed the prospects for success.

  “I’m confident that this scree will continue to run downhill from now on,” Johns surmised. “Then we can look forward to it levelling out into a plain.”

  “Our rate of progress has started to improve already,” said Scagg.

  “Yes, indeed it has,” said Johns. “And with it the men’s spirits. The only exception is Plover. I’m rather concerned; we’ve hardly heard a peep from him all morning. Why do you think that is, Scagg?”

  “He probably doesn’t like being squashed in a tent with three others.”

  “Can’t be helped on a journey like this. It’s all for one and one for all.”

  “I don’t think Plover sees it like that, Mr Johns.”

  “You mean he’s a snob?”

  “I wouldn’t like to say, sir.”

  “So he is a snob then. Well, I must admit I’ve noticed he isn’t much of a mixer. Never seems to want to join in with the spirit of things. And he still insists on wearing that high-peaked cap of his all the time. By the way, did you get the chance to have a word with him about that?”

  “Not yet, no. Sorry.”

  “Because the last thing we need is Plover frozen stiff on account of…”

  Johns broke off as Plover suddenly appeared to their left, carrying a steaming mug in his hand. When he saw them looking at him he paused and nodded, but did not approach.

  “Ah, hot drinks,” said Johns, rising to his feet. With a nod towards Plover, he strode off in the direction of the field kitchen. Scagg, meanwhile, stood up and straightened his surcoat. Then he wandered over to Plover.

  “Expect your ears are smarting, aren’t they?” he said.

  “Not particularly,” Plover replied. “Are yours?”

  “No, they’re not,” said Scagg. “But I’m surprised yours aren’t. Very surprised.”

  After Scagg had left him, Plover remained where he was for several minutes. He gazed into the distance whilst finishing his drink, then returned his empty mug to Seddon. Next he located his pack and unfastened the straps. Delving inside, he found a woolly helmet, which he immediately substituted for his high-peaked cap.

  §

  “Sorry I can’t offer anyone a piece of chocolate,” said Medleycott. “I’m afraid Cook walked off with the whole bar.”

  “Actually I think I’ve got some hidden somewhere,” answered Summerfield. “I’ll have a look for it later.”

  It was the evening of the same day, and bedding was being laid out for the night. The three tents had been erected in a kind of half-circle, their entrances adjacent to one another, with Johns’s tent at the centre, facing due south. His neighbours to the east were Medleycott, Summerfield, Sargent and Plover, though for the moment Plover was absent.

  “He said he was going for a look around outside,” Medleycott informed his companions.

  “Well I hope he comes back soon,” said Sargent. “I want to get some sleep.”

  “Why don’t you take the berth at the far end?” suggested Summerfield. “Then you won’t be disturbed by anyone.”

  “Because I like being by the door,” Sargent replied.

  “I’ll take it then, if nobody minds.”

  At that instant the canvas parted and Plover came in. Rather than closing the flaps quickly behind him, however, he paused in the opening to remove his boots, so that a rush of cold air flooded into the tent. As the lamp flickered, Medleycott and Sargent glanced at each other but said nothing. Plover, in his turn, spoke to nobody. Meanwhile, Summerfie
ld stretched out on his utility blanket. He was still wearing his reefer jacket, and after a few seconds he sat up again. Reaching into his inside pocket, he produced the textbook Johns had lent him some days earlier. It had a plain grey cover with bold black lettering:

  The Theory of Transportation

  by

  E.E. Childish

  Holding the book towards the lamplight, Summerfield began reading.

  ∨ Explorers of the New Century ∧

  Four

  “Thegn, I’m looking for a volunteer,” said Tostig. “I need someone to take a line and try and find a way across this maelstrom. It won’t be easy; the task requires both daring and judgment; one slip could mean certain death. I thought I’d give you first refusal.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Obviously, Snaebjorn would do it at the drop of a hat, but the truth is he’s far too valuable to the expedition. We simply couldn’t afford to risk losing him, so if I could send you instead it would be a great help.”

  “Well, yes, I’d definitely like to have a go at it, if you think I’m capable.”

  They were standing at the edge of a deep chasm. Below them poured the huge volume of water they had heard as they approached: Strewn with immense boulders, it seethed and roared before tumbling over precipitous falls into a vast unseen cauldron.

  “What calamity could have struck this land?!” demanded Tostig. “What violent upheaval to drive a river completely off its course?! It is unbelievable! Never have I known such geological chaos. I brought you here so you could witness it for yourself prior to making a decision.”

  “That’s much appreciated.”

  They stepped back as the rocky shelf they stood on was dashed with flying spray.

  Then Tostig continued.

  “To put it bluntly, Thegn, this could spell disaster for us. It has actually placed us in a worse boat than Johns. Oh, I know it must be hard-going on that scree, but at least he has an open road ahead of him. Our path, by contrast, is beset with pitfalls of every kind. If we can’t find a way forward we’ll be beaten, and our mission will fail. I presume you wouldn’t want that to happen?”