“Yes, sir.”
In the event it was not until after dusk that the litter was finished. By this time, one or two lamps had been lit and the stove was on for supper. When Johns heard the job was done, he went and carried out an inspection, after which he congratulated Sargent and Summerfield for their fine workmanship. Then Gribble was brought over.
“Now, Gribble,” said Johns. “We’ve built this so that you can travel safe and sound to our destination. Would you like to try it?”
Gribble said nothing, but silently parted the canopy and stepped on to the litter. Then she sat down and closed the canopy behind her. The men waited. From within there came a quiet cough. They all moved away slightly. A minute passed.
“Gribble?” said Johns. “Gribble, do you like it?”
There was no reply.
“Gribble, why don’t you come out and eat?”
Further silence.
“Looks as if she’s turned in for the night,” suggested Scagg.
“All right, well, that’s all the more supper for each of us,” said Johns.
When this comment brought no response, they gave up and left Gribble alone.
§
The new sleeping arrangements entailed five men occupying the single remaining tent, while two others waited outside. These ‘nightwatchmen’ were to be replaced hourly on a rotating basis until everyone had done a stint. The first names on the roster belonged to Seddon and Sargent, so when their companions went to bed they made themselves as comfortable as they could under their utility blankets.
“To tell the truth, it doesn’t make much difference to me whether I’m inside or out,” declared Sargent. “After the day I’ve had I could sleep standing up in my boots.”
“If I were you I wouldn’t say that too loudly,” answered Seddon. “It sounds like you’re volunteering.”
“Me?” said Sargent. “Volunteer? Never!”
During the succeeding hours the diminutive encampment underwent repeated onslaughts of wind and dust. Dust now lay thick on every surface: on the tent, on the stack of supplies, on the canopy of the portable chair; and it only served to worsen the already poor visibility. By general accord the lanterns were extinguished overnight, which meant each pair of watchmen fulfilled their spell in total darkness. This later resulted in a surprise for Sargent. Despite protestations from Scagg, Johns had insisted on having his own name included on the roster so that he could carry out his fair share of the duties. In consequence it was Johns who eventually emerged to relieve Sargent. His advancing figure was barely perceptible in the gloom.
“About time too,” growled Sargent, who hadn’t bothered to examine the roster in detail.
“Good evening, Sargent,” said Johns. “I believe I’m quite punctual, as a matter of fact.”
“Oh, sorry, sir. I didn’t know it was you.”
“Who did you think it was then?”
“Er…not sure, sir.”
“Someone who can’t tell the time, perhaps?”
“No, sir.”
“You really should be more careful what you say, Sargent,” observed Johns. “I could have been anybody coming along.”
“Yes, sir. Sorry.”
“Sleep well, Sargent.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Meanwhile, Plover had made an appearance, relinquishing his place in the tent to Seddon.
“Ah, Plover,” said Johns, glancing up briefly.
There was little further conversation. If Johns noticed that Plover had reverted to his woolly helmet then he didn’t mention it, and for his part Plover drew no particular attention to the fact. Instead they sat side by side, with their backs to the wind, and for the ensuing hour exchanged only occasional banalities. Next to turn out were Chase and Scagg. These two got on easily together, and passed the time discussing obscure geographical matters. They were followed in due course by Sargent and, lastly, Summerfield. Sargent was down-in-the-mouth, and complained at some length that the roster had been deliberately set up ‘against’ him.
“I’m the only one who’s had to get out of bed twice,” he muttered. “Typical of my luck.”
Summerfield attempted to argue that the situation was the same for everyone, and that over subsequent nights it would even out quite fairly; but his efforts were all in vain. Sargent had a simpler explanation.
“My card’s been marked ever since we started this trip,” he said. “It’s always the same: wherever I go you’ll find me at the bottom of the pile.”
“What about the mules, though?” demanded Summerfield. “You’re much better off compared to them.” His manner was unusually terse.
“Yes, Mr Summerfield,” replied Sargent. “So I’ve often been told.”
Both men were now gazing at the dim outline of the litter, which stood some distance away, fully exposed to the elements. Its occupant had remained silent throughout the hours of darkness. Summerfield took a deep breath.
“Look, Sargent,” he said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that: it’s not your fault. It’s just that I sometimes have very grave doubts about what we’re doing here. Let’s admit it, the Theory barely stands up to close scrutiny: a set of harsh measures disguised as ideology by some well-intentioned professor. I mean, what exactly does society hope to achieve by rounding up all the mules and shipping them off to the wildest reaches of the earth? Will it really bring improvement, or have we been fooling ourselves all along?”
Sargent gave the questions a few moments’ thought.
“Don’t ask me,” he said.
After that the subject was dropped.
When dawn finally came, nobody professed to having had a good night’s sleep. Instead, they wandered around the camp, waiting for breakfast and becoming irritated with one another for scant reason. Johns mentioned to Scagg that he found this state of affairs rather disturbing.
“It’s only the first morning,” he said. “What will their mood be like when they’ve been carrying that chair for a few days?”
“They’ll soon adapt to it,” Scagg answered. “They always do.”
“Maybe we…good grief!”
Johns broke off as Gribble drew back her canopy and stepped out. The cause of his astonishment was clear. Since the previous evening Gribble’s appearance had changed beyond recognition. She was still dressed in sackcloth, but now there was a belt fastened around her waist. This belt was made from a strip of canvas, and served to give her garment a degree of femininity formerly lacking. Also, her hair was elaborately plaited, whereas hitherto it had always been unkempt. Most striking, though, were the bright blue lines that ran across her face: two on each cheek, and one in a V-shape on her forehead. These lines had been applied in the form of a thick paste, apparently ground down from the blue stones so carefully chosen by Gribble.
“I wondered why she wanted that spare strip of canvas,” said Sargent, reddening slightly.
Apart from this solitary remark, the men seemed at a complete loss for words. They stood in a half-circle gaping as Gribble passed by before seating herself at a discreet distance from the cooking area. There she waited until Summerfield delivered her breakfast. When he rejoined his comrades he said, “Gribble asked me to say she had a pleasant night, thank you very much.”
“Well, that’s something,” replied Johns.
As departure time approached, great care was taken to ensure that only the most essential items were packed for the onward journey. Any gear considered dispensable was left behind in a new depot. The rest was bundled into three loads, along with the remaining food supplies. Then, when all was ready, Gribble was requested to take her place on the litter. She was to be carried on this first day by Chase, Seddon, Sargent and Plover, while the other three men shouldered the packs. ‘Unexpectedly light’ was the unanimous verdict when the litter was raised from the ground and they got moving. The air was heavy with dust, however, and it was not long before Gribble closed the canopy, leaving her entourage to battle on as best they could. After an hour, Johns called a halt.