Hammond Innes - Campbell's Kingdom

‘A bit risky, wasn’t it?’ I said.

He shrugged his shoulders. ‘If you want to make money out here you’ve got to take risks. If I’d waited for Fergus’ okay, I’d have been too late to pack all the stuff in on the one hoist. I’d have had to build a second hoist and believe me that would have cost a lot at current prices.’ He leaned back. ‘Well now, what are you holding out for — more dough?’ The unwinking stare of his black little eyes was disconcerting ‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s not that.’

‘What is it then? Mac said something about your planning to live up there.’

‘Yes.’

‘What the hell for? It’s pretty God-damn lonely up there and in the winter-’

‘My grandfather lived up there,’ I said. ‘If he could do it-’

‘Campbell didn’t live there because he liked it,’ he cut in sharply. ‘He lived there because he had to; because he didn’t dare live down here amongst the folk he’d swindled.’

‘Are you suggesting he was a crook?’ I demanded angrily.

He leaned forward and stubbed his cigarette out in a big quartz ash-tray. ‘See here, Wetheral. You know Campbell’s history as well as I do. He was committed to trial and sentenced by an English jury for fraud. If I remember right he got five years. To that jury it was just a Stock Exchange ramp. But out here it was the last gamble of men trying to recoup themselves for the loss of the Come Lucky mine. They believed in Campbell. Maybe I’m a bit bitter. Perhaps you’ll understand my attitude better if I tell you that my father, Luke Trevedian, backed Campbell when he decided to drill up beyond the cleft of Solomon’s Judgment. Most of the old-timers were with him in that venture. Well, it failed. The rock was hard, it cost more than they budgeted to get equipment up there. When they found they’d bitten off more than they could chew Campbell went to England to raise capital. My father put every last penny he possessed into the Rocky Mountain Exploration Company and when he got the news that Morton, the director brought in by your grandfather as financial adviser, had disappeared with all the capital, he got on his horse and rode out into the snow of a winter’s night. We never saw him again.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I said.

He laughed. ‘No need to be sorry. It was his own fault for being such a sucker. I’m telling you this so you’ll understand why old Campbell lived up in the Kingdom. You don’t want to take too much notice of the newspaper stories. That’s just tourist stuff and I’ll admit he put on a good act for them. But the truth lies here in Come Lucky. This derelict bunch of shacks is his doing. There was a lot of wealth here in this town when the big slide sealed the mine.’ He lit another cigarette and snapped his lighter shut by closing his fist on it as though he meant to crush it. ‘And it isn’t only the town that’s derelict,’ he added. ‘Take a look at the old men around here. They’re all old-timers, men who put their money into Campbell’s oil companies and now eke out a pittance doing a bit of farming on the flats around Beaver Dam lake. They just about fill their bellies and that’s all.’

There was nothing I could say. He was giving me the other side of the picture and the violence in his voice emphasised that it was the truth he was telling me. It explained so much, but it didn’t make my problem any easier.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘what are you going to do? If you sell the Kingdom, then Henry Fergus will go ahead with the hydro-electric scheme and Come Lucky will become a flourishing little town again.’

‘And if I don’t?’ I asked.

He hesitated. ‘I don’t know. It just depends.’ He got up and walked over to the window. For a time he stood there, staring up the straggling length of Come Lucky’s main street. Then he turned suddenly to me. ‘This place is what they call a ghost town. You’ve got a chance to bring it back to life.’

‘My grandfather’s will imposed certain obligations on me,’ I said. ‘You see, he still believed-’

‘Obligations, hell!’ he snapped. He came and stood over me. ‘Suppose you go and think this thing over.’ He was looking down at me, his eyes slightly narrowed, the nerves at the corners quivering slightly. ‘I phoned Henry Fergus this morning when I was in Keithley. I tried to get him to increase his offer to you.’

‘It’s not the money,’ I said.

‘Well, maybe.’ He smiled sourly. ‘But money’s a useful commodity all the same. He’s coming up to see the progress they’re making at Larsen. I suggested he came on up here and had a talk with you. He said he would.’ His hand dropped to my shoulder. ‘Think it over very carefully, will you. It means a lot to the people here.’

I nodded and got to my feet. ‘Very well,’ I said. ‘I’ll think it over.’

‘Yes. Do that.’

When I got back to the hotel it was tea-time. There was an extra place laid at the big deal table and just after we’d sat down Bladen came in. Several times in the course of the meal I noticed James McClellan looking at me out of the corners of his eyes. He didn’t eat much and as soon as the meal was over he hurried out, presumably down to Trevedian to discover the result of our interview. I went over to Bladen. ‘Can I have a word with you?’ I asked him.

He hesitated. ‘Sure.’ His voice sounded reluctant. We drew our chairs a little apart from the others. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘I suppose it’s about the Kingdom?’ His voice sounded nervous.

‘I believe you did some sort of a survey up there last summer?’

He nodded. ‘A seismographic survey.’ His voice was very quiet, a gentle, musical sound. The scar was white across the smooth, gypsy skin. His eyes were fixed on his hand as he pressed back the cuticles of the nails. The nails were pale against the dark skin. ‘If you want the results of that survey an account was published in the Edmonton Journal of 3rd December.’

‘The results were unfavourable?’

‘Yes.’

‘How reliable is a seismographic survey?’

He raised his head and looked at me then. ‘It won’t tell you definitely where there’s oil, if that’s what you mean. But it gives a fairly accurate picture of the strata and from that the geophysicist can decide whether it’s a likely spot to drill.’

‘I see.’ That was what Acheson had said. ‘Oil is trapped in the rock formations, isn’t it?’ I asked.

‘Yeh, like in an anticline where you have a dome formation and the oil is trapped under the top of the dome.’

‘So the sort of survey you did in Campbell’s Kingdom last year is pretty well a hundred per cent in showing where there’s no likelihood of oil?’

He nodded.

‘In your opinion did that survey make it clear that there could be no oil in the Kingdom?’

‘I think you’ll find the report makes that quite clear.’

‘I’m not interested in the report. I want your opinion.’

His eyes dropped to his hands again. ‘I don’t think you quite understand the way this thing works. My equipment records the time taken by a shock wave to be reflected back from the various strata to half a dozen detectors. It’s the same principle as the echo-sounding device used by ships at sea. All I do is the field work. I get the figures and from these the computers map the strata under the surface.’

‘But you must have some idea how the survey is working out,’ I insisted.

‘All I do is get the figures.’ He got to his feet. ‘You’d better go and talk to Winnick in Calgary if you want to query the results. He charted the area.’

I caught him as he turned towards the door. ‘I’m only asking for your opinion,’ I said. ‘I haven’t time to go to Calgary again.’

‘I have no opinion,’ he replied, his eyes looking towards the door as though he wanted to escape from my questions.