“So that you can earn all the praise?” said Plover.
“Of course not,” responded Summerfield. “I simply think it’s the best workable solution; otherwise we’re going to exhaust ourselves fairly quickly. What’s your view, Sargent?”
“I agree with you,” came the reply.
A few minutes later Summerfield was walking alone along the river bank. Quite soon he came upon the mule and at once paused. The mule did not move so he took a careful step forward. Then another. Then he stopped. Deliberately he turned away and gazed at the river. Still the mule remained where it was. Summerfield allowed several seconds to pass before again facing his quarry. The mule was now looking directly at him and appeared to be quite calm, yet when he tried edging forward it skipped away in a playful manner. Then it turned towards him once more. Summerfield waited.
“Come on then,” said the mule. “Catch me if you can.”
There was a long leaden silence, broken finally by Summerfield.
“How dare you speak to me!” he uttered.
“What of it?” asked the mule. “Just because you forbid us to talk do you think we’ll lose our tongues?”
“I don’t make the laws,” Summerfield replied. “Even so, you had better be silent or you’ll make things even worse for yourself.”
“What could be worse? I’ve already spent a night under that hood.”
“You can forget the hood. You’re asking for a severe beating this time.”
“I don’t think so,” answered the mule. “You wouldn’t lay a finger on me. You’re far too civilised for that.”
“Maybe so,” said Summerfield. “However, that doesn’t mean I can restrain my companions. Some of them are less tolerant than me.”
“Then you’ll just have to be my protector, won’t you?”
♦
Meanwhile, the other party had returned to the camp with some favourable news. Chase, Blanchflower and Firth had discovered a natural ford about a mile upriver, and they had succeeded in getting across and back quite easily. Their find was still under discussion when Summerfield appeared, leading the mule.
“Ah, Summerfield, well done,” said Johns. “Come and join us. Tie it up, will you, Sargent?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’d rather you didn’t tether this one,” interceded Summerfield.
“Whyever not?” Johns enquired.
“Because I promised her she wouldn’t be tied up any more.”
“She?!” snapped Scagg. “Since when have we referred to mules in that manner?!”
“Admittedly never.”
“So what’s the game then?!”
“It seemed the most practical approach,” said Summerfield. “I really don’t see what other option I had.”
“Of course you had an option!”
“It’s all right, Scagg,” said Johns. “I think Summerfield can be forgiven under the circumstances.”
“But it’s outrageous making bargains with a mule!”
“I know, Scagg, I know. All the same, I’m afraid we’re going to have to learn to live with it. An hour ago we thought we only had four mules left. Now we have five, and this one’s a female, which is a bounty for us. It makes it worthwhile to continue our journey. Therefore we can allow a small concession.”
“Very well, sir,” murmured Scagg. “If you say so.”
Accordingly, the mule was led away to join the others. Then Johns gathered the men around him and set forth his plans.
“Disaster has struck,” he began. “Yet we shall not be defeated so readily. Blanchflower and Firth, I want you to return southward and collect the extra supplies. Go only as far as Summerfield’s Depression: Cook should be there to meet you by now. In the meantime, the rest of us will take advantage of Chase’s Crossing, as I propose to name it. With our limited resources we’re going to make a ‘dash’ for the Furthest Point. I think you’ll all agree that we owe it to Medleycott to press on.”
“Of course,” said Plover.
The remnants of the afternoon were spent in making preparations for the following day. Scagg went through the food supplies and worked out a system for rationing, assisted by Seddon. The two remaining tents, having dried quickly in the wind, were now erected. It had been decided that Blanchflower and Firth would rest overnight before leaving, which meant there would be four in one tent and five in the other. At the end of the evening, in sombre company, Johns made an entry in his journaclass="underline"
I regret to report that today we lost Medleycott in a tragic and costly accident. It should be recorded that he gave his life attempting to save some of our mules.
Despite the shortage of accommodation, Scagg arranged that Johns would have sole use of the command tent for one hour each day, immediately after supper. The purpose was to ‘allow Mr Johns a little bit of peace and quiet’, as Scagg put it. During this period everyone else was expected to crowd into the other tent. Johns was quite prepared to receive visitors, however, and two nights after the river crossing he was playing host to Summerfield.
“I’ve come to return your book,” said his guest. “Thank you for the loan: it was most interesting.”
“Interesting?” replied Johns. “Does that mean you weren’t entirely convinced by the arguments?”
“No, no,” said Summerfield quickly. “It’s just that I’ve become a little concerned about one aspect of the theory.”
“What’s troubling you exactly?”
“It’s about this homeland we’re hoping to establish for the mules.”
“Yes, what of it?”
“Will they be treated fairly, Mr Johns? I mean, we’re transporting them to the Furthest Point from Civilisation and leaving them there. Can we be sure they’ll be able to cope on their own?”
“Frankly, we can’t,” said Johns. “There are many unanswered questions still remaining and everyone is aware of the risks. Nevertheless we had to begin somewhere. As you know, the aim of this expedition is to discover whether the mules can survive the initial journey. Our success will be the lodestar: the model for future advances. If the place is considered suitable, then the process of settlement will begin at once. Naturally, we’ll need to provide basic sanitation; we’ll also set up supply lines to help them through the first few seasons. After that, they’ll be left entirely to their own devices.”
“But if all fails they’ll suffer terribly!” exclaimed Summerfield.
“That’s why we’re only starting with a small number.”
“But…”
“Look, Summerfield, you must appreciate that even I have certain reservations about this, but I’m afraid there is no other option. The alternatives have been tried and none of them work. Let me assure you that I bear the mules no personal ill-will whatsoever. I would be the first to declare that most of them are honest and harmless creatures. They have no very deep dye of turpitude. Instead, their inherent weakness lies in all that they lack: the ability to make rational judgments; the concept of propriety; the power of self-discipline. They lose their heads far too easily: the incident at the river was a perfect demonstration of that. Furthermore, they do nothing profitable; they are strangers to industry; they don’t invent things; they don’t plough the waters of the deep; they don’t extract minerals, construct bridges or dig tunnels. Neither do they have any understanding of science. As for art, well, yes, I admit they are capable of some wonderful creations in paint and clay; they possess a marvellous sense of colour; yet they only do this as a sort of pastime, never in a formal, studied way. Then, of course, they have their fanciful beliefs and superstitions, most of which defy all reason.”
Johns paused and gave a long sigh before continuing.
“Summerfield, I cannot overstate the efforts that have been made to let the mules live alongside us. Every conceivable solution has been tried, and every one has failed. Simply put, the mules are completely immune to the forces of civilisation; therefore, we have decided that the only answer is to allow them to develop separately in their own corner of the world; to build shelters and eke out some kind of pastoral existence. Believe me, it will be for their own good in the long run.”