“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 items 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.