“I’m not so certain,” Johns countered. “We’re all tired, whilst she’s as fresh as a daisy, and very canny to boot. I doubt if we could get anywhere near her. Moreover, I’m reluctant to use coercion this late in the game. She’s been fairly cooperative to date, and I’m inclined to give her the benefit and find out exactly what these wishes are.” He turned towards Gribble and addressed her directly. “So you want to be borne aloft, do you?”
“At shoulder height,” she replied. “For the last mile.”
“Yes, well, I suppose we can go along with that.”
“I want another cushion for my litter.”
“That can be arranged.”
“And I desire to be known henceforth as Princess Gribble,” she continued. “I wish to be granted full title to all the lands hereabout, so that I can reign over them for ever more.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” said Johns. “You can’t stay here on your own.”
“I won’t be on my own,” said Gribble. “I’ll be with my consort.”
At these words the assembled men laughed in disbelief. The laughter faded, however, when Summerfield stepped forward.
“She means me, sir,” he announced.
“You, Summerfield?!” exclaimed Johns. “Have you taken leave of your senses?”
“I don’t believe so, sir.”
“Are you telling me you intend to live in this place? With this mule?”
“Yes, sir.”
“But it’s quite unthinkable. I simply won’t hear of it. Even setting aside the moral question, which we won’t discuss now, there’s the matter of feasibility. You must be aware that our supplies have practically run out. What do you suppose you would live on?”
“Supplies can be sent up,” Summerfield answered. “It’s been known all along that establishing a colony would require outside support: you told me that yourself, sir. With me here there’s a much greater chance of success.”
“And what about the months of adversity and darkness, the bitter cold, possibly even starvation?”
“We’ve endured pretty much already, Mr Johns. The worst is behind us.”
Johns gave Summerfield a thoughtful look. “It seems you’ve considered this quite carefully,” he said. “So when did the pair of you plan it all?”
“I’ve been visiting Gribble at night,” Summerfield explained.
“You mean…?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I see.” Johns regarded Summerfield for a long moment before continuing. “Well, Summerfield, I’m sure I’m not alone when I say this comes as a great shock. Heaven knows how I’m going to explain it in my journal. All the same I must admit your scheme does have its merits. It offers the chance to test the Theory of Transportation at an empirical level, thus achieving far more than our original goal. What’s your opinion, Scagg?”
“I’d prefer to reserve judgment, if you don’t mind, sir,” Scagg replied. “But I should point out that this delay is costing us valuable time. There’s hardly an hour of daylight remaining.”
“You’re correct as usual,” said Johns. “Yes, we really must hurry if we’re to arrive before nightfall. All right, Summerfield, I think we can accept these demands in principle, although, of course, the details will have to be ironed out later. Now can you please ask ‘Princess Gribble’ to board her carriage immediately?”
“Yes, sir.” Summerfield lowered his voice. “By the way, sir,” he added. “The royal title wasn’t my idea, nor the bit about bearing her aloft.”
“Never mind that now,” said Johns. “Let’s just get moving, shall we?”
After a word from Summerfield, Gribble returned to the litter and stepped gracefully inside, closing the canopy behind her. Then she was raised to shoulder height and the journey commenced once more. It took a while for the men to adapt to the new posture, but fortunately the ground was flat and before long they’d got into their stride. The sky had begun steadily to darken, investing this final march with a sense of mounting urgency. Already Johns had gone to the front of the column, and with every step his lead increased further. In his hand he carried the battered flagstaff. Soon he was a good fifty yards ahead, pressing forward with a marked determination. He appeared to be counting his paces, and at a certain point he abruptly stopped and turned to wait for the rest of the party. Amidst the swirling dust he stood like a statue until the others joined him.
“Here we are at last,” he said, smiling.
The litter was laid down, Chase verified their position, and the men gathered around Johns to give him three cheers.
“Success indeed,” said Scagg. “It looks as if we’re first after all.”
He shook hands with Johns, followed in turn by each of the others.
Then, as night hastened on, the wind abated. Suddenly the dust cleared, revealing a mound of freshly dug earth with a flag stuck in the top. When Johns caught sight of it, he fell to his knees.
“Oh no!” he cried. “No, no, no, no, no!”
Eight
Tostig spent two days at the Agreed Furthest Point from Civilisation. During this time he and his men conducted a series of tests, in order to confirm his doubts about the possibility of settlement. They examined the soil to see if it would support basic cultivation (it would not) and they dug a well in the hope of finding water (there was none). They also carried out a brief meteorological study, whose results suggested a severe lack of rainfall in the region. Meanwhile, Thorsson put the finishing touches to his map, on which the area around the AFP was shown in a dull shade of grey. When it was ready he handed it to Tostig.
“With my compliments,” he said. “A depiction of nothingness, complete in every detail.”
Tostig studied the map for some minutes before returning it to Thorsson as a keepsake. It was an accomplished piece of work, he explained, but there was no practical use for it. On the second day, Snaebjorn made an appraisal of the mules’ health and general condition. Afterwards, the five strongest were taken to one side. The remaining five had their bell collars removed; then Tostig produced a revolver from his pocket and shot them dead.
Their bodies were thrown into the well. Deposited alongside them were a number of unwanted items, including the bottle of green ink. The place was marked with a mound of earth, and a flag. Tostig’s final act before departing was to write a courteous note to Johns. This read as follows:
Dear Commander Johns,
As you see, we arrived and found little of interest. Stayed for two days. We now wish you a safe voyage home.
Kind regards
Tostig
The note was pinned to the base of the flagpole. Next morning, with nothing left to do, the eastern party started back the way they had come. Only Thegn glanced behind him as the camp was abandoned by the small procession of men and mules. His companions didn’t bother, and consequently he was the last to catch a glimpse of the flag that had once been so precious to them all. Soon it had disappeared from view. Ahead of them lay the faint trail they had established on their outward journey: a collection of footprints, sometimes vague, sometimes clear, which rarely wavered from a straight line. As such it was a source of regret for Tostig.
“Quite a shame, really,” he said. “I had imagined this trail of ours would develop eventually into a proper road teeming with traffic (though strictly one-way, of course). I envisaged a great thoroughfare running the full distance from the coast to the Furthest Point. Naturally, there would be numerous obstacles to overcome: for example, those huge boulders we encountered would present a challenge to even the most practised of engineers, not to mention the rapids we crossed. Nevertheless, we know the route is at least viable, and consequently it is disappointing to realise our exploits will come to nothing. There will be no road to the settlement. Instead, our tracks will succumb to the ravages of the wind and the dust, before finally vanishing altogether.”