But, unknown to them, the bird had lost its way.
Five
“Sorry to interrupt the work, Mr Johns, but I think we may have a problem.”
“Really, Scagg? Well, please come in and tell me about it.”
“Do you want me to make myself scarce?” Chase enquired.
“No, no,” said Scagg. “It doesn’t concern any of the men.”
“What is it then?” asked Johns.
“I thought you should know that one of the mules is dawdling, deliberately it seems, and that this is having a discouraging effect on the others. I’ve had it under observation all day, and several times I’ve noticed it dragging the pace. Moreover, it comes to a complete halt at every opportunity. If we allow it to carry on in this way, our progress will be seriously disrupted.”
“You’re quite right,” said Johns. “Oddly enough, Chase and I were just discussing our position, and we were wondering why we’d hardly got anywhere since yesterday. So it’s the mules to blame, is it?”
“One of them, sir.”
“One is enough.”
“So with your permission I’d like to administer some discipline. A night under the hood should teach it a lesson it won’t forget.”
“Have we brought a hood with us?”
“I took the liberty, yes.”
“Very well, Scagg. See to it, will you? And at the same time I suggest you treat all the other mules to a stick of barley sugar apiece. Then hopefully they’ll see both sides of the coin.”
“Right you are, sir.”
After Scagg had departed, Johns turned to Chase and shook his head. “Oh dear,” he murmured. “The order for punishment is always the hardest to give.”
“So I imagine,” said Chase.
“That’s why we’ve resorted to this so-called ‘modern’ remedy of the hood. I’m told on good authority that it works and, frankly, anything more severe would serve no useful purpose in such a harsh climate: indeed it may even be counter-productive. Still, Chase, only time will tell. Now, where were we?”
“Discussing the wind, Mr Johns.”
“Ah, yes, the interminable wind. What’s your analysis?”
“I’m afraid it bears very little moisture.”
“No likelihood of rain then?”
“Not for a while.”
“That is disappointing news,” said Johns. “The last thing I want to do is impose water rationing; yet there appears little chance of locating any other source while we’re on this scree. I had been assuming it would eventually ease out on to some verdant plain, criss-crossed by streams and rivers, but now I’m beginning to think that was just wishful thinking on my behalf.”
“Oh, I’m sure there’s a flat plain ahead,” replied Chase. “The way the wind sweeps unimpeded towards us has convinced me of that fact. Besides, we’re almost down to sea level again.”
“Well, it’s been such a struggle one would hardly believe we’d been descending for six days in a row. Listen to that gale, pounding the very walls of the tent as if it wants to tear them asunder. Will there be no relief?”
“I don’t know, sir,” said Chase.
The flame guttered in the lantern as a fierce gust whirled through the encampment, striking one tent after another. Chase gathered up his charts and tables, and waited while Johns completed the latest entry in his journal. Then they buttoned their coats, extinguished the light and went outside. This sequence of events had become a nightly ritual. Next they would find their way through the blackness for a distance of about half a mile, following a northerly direction, carefully examining the ground and taking note of any landmarks or other points of interest. These were few in number. Nonetheless, both men agreed that their regular evening forays gave them a fair idea of the terrain that lay ahead, and thus prepared them for the following morning’s march. Before returning they would always wait until their eyes had grown fully accustomed to the dark. Then they would retrace their steps back to their respective tents, each getting ready for bed without further recourse to lamplight. In this manner they helped conserve the supply of fuel.
♦
“I can offer you a penny,” said Scagg.
“Pardon?” said Medleycott.
“For your thoughts.”
“Oh, yes, sorry, I was miles away.”
“So I observed. Is something troubling you?”
“Not really, no. Or shouldn’t be anyway. It’s just that today happens to be my birthday.”
“And you were flunking about Mrs Medleycott.”
“How on earth did you know that?”
“It’s quite natural,” said Scagg. “Everyone thinks of their mother on their birthday.”
“Do they?”
“Of course they do.”
Medleycott gave a long sigh. “Yes, well, it’s very true; and it’s so unspeakably lonely out here that I can hardly bear it at times. This endless scree, this darkness, this pitiless wind: men have been driven to distraction by lesser torments. It’s an utter wilderness. Do you know, I’ve been standing here for almost an hour gazing at absolutely nothing?”
“Which is why I came looking for you,” Scagg replied. “You’ve been absent a good while.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t have wandered far,” said Medleycott. “I just wanted a few moments to myself, that was all.”
“But I thought you said you were lonely.”
“I remarked that this was a lonely place, yes.”
“Well, conducting a solitary vigil won’t help matters, will it?” said Scagg. “If it’s your birthday then surely you should be with the other men, not stuck out here on your own. Now take my advice and get yourself back into camp before Mr Johns notices you’re missing.”
“I’ll go at once,” nodded Medleycott. “Sorry, Scagg, that didn’t even occur to me.”
“And many happy returns of the day.”
“Thank you.”
Scagg watched as Medleycott made his way towards the tents. He waited until he’d disappeared from view, then strolled in a purposeful manner around the margins of the camp, pausing at one point to inspect the mules. These were gathered together in a huddle with their backs to the wind, some sleeping, others eyeing him warily when he drew near. He glanced to his left. Tethered separately a short distance away was the single recalcitrant mule, its head concealed under a heavy linen hood just as it had been all through the night. Scagg stood and contemplated the scene for several minutes before moving on. Presently he came to the kitchen area, where Seddon was busy preparing breakfast. Here he paused again.
“Been in search of our early riser?” ventured Seddon.
“As a matter of fact I have,” Scagg replied.
“I saw him go by an hour ago. Sleepwalking, was he?”
“Yes, something like that.”
Scagg lifted the lid of the cooking pot and peered inside. Steam rose up to engulf him; quickly he replaced the lid. Next he poked around amongst the sundry stocks and provisions, opening boxes and closing them again. Finally he looked at Seddon and said, “You’ve got plenty of flour, haven’t you?”
“Plenty,” answered Seddon.
“Sugar?”
“Yes.”
“Fat?”
“Likewise.”
“I know for certain there’s a bag of raisins somewhere,” Scagg announced. “I loaded them myself. Got a baking tin?”
“Of course I’ve got a baking tin,” returned Seddon with indignation. “What’s all this leading up to anyway?”
“Well, Seddon,” said Scagg. “I want you to pull off one of your culinary miracles.”
“Oh yes?”
“I’d like you to bake me a cake. Nothing special; just a simple cake with icing on the top. Can you do that for me?”