Magnus Mills: Explorers of the New Century

Now Medleycott opened the blockhouse door and stood gazing out. Within seconds someone inside demanded that he shut it right away, so he did as they asked before wandering down to the water’s edge. On the horizon, the early light was giving way to a cold greyness. Medleycott picked up a flat pebble and skimmed it into the waves. Then Blanchflower and Firth started moving around on the Centurion . Medleycott watched as they lowered some boxes into the cutter, climbed aboard and cast off.

“‘Each man should try to do an hour’s work before breakfast’,” said a voice behind him.

He turned round and saw Plover coming down the beach.

“Yes,” said Medleycott. “I noticed that when I was reading through the postings. Quite a smart idea really. Good morning, by the way.”

“Morning,” replied Plover. “I assume it’s Johns’ method of ensuring we all build up a healthy appetite.”

“Yes.”

“As if we wouldn’t in a place like this.”

“Well, I think anything that gets us on the move can only be to our advantage,” offered Medleycott. “After all, the sooner we get the work done, the sooner we can get going inland.”

“I suppose so.”

“Better look sharp. Here’s Scagg.”

The cutter was now halfway to the shore, so the two of them got into the surf and made ready to catch it as it came in. At the same time, Scagg came down from the blockhouse, followed by Seddon, Chase and Cook. The provisions were quickly landed, then relayed on to higher ground. With Scagg directing operations, the cutter underwent three more journeys during that first part of the day, and by mid-morning all the portable equipment had been stashed near the blockhouse. After breakfast, Johns asked Scagg if he could ‘borrow’ Chase for an hour or so. Scagg obliged, and the pair went off to conduct a brief coastal survey. Meanwhile, the Centurion was prepared for beaching. Around midday, lines were taken out and made secure. Next the ballast was discharged and the vessel allowed to float in on the tide. Plover and Summerfield had harnessed the mules in readiness; these were now brought down to the water’s edge. Then the Centurion was gradually hauled ashore, with the entire crew helping the mules cover the last few yards. Johns and Chase returned just in time to lend a hand, taking their place on the ropes alongside the others. Finally, timber supports were positioned beneath the hull, and tarpaulins fastened over to protect it from the weather.

Further along the shore, about half a mile to the east, a second ship lay already beached. The bulk of the day’s work having been completed, Johns ordered a break. Then he and Scagg walked over to have a look at the other vessel. It was a converted steam tug, similar to their own though slightly shorter in length, carrying the name Perseverance . Painted blue with yellow gunwales (the Centurion was red and white), it stood clasped in a makeshift wooden cradle, fully battened down, with sand gathering slowly around its keel.

“Very thorough work,” said Johns, testing a guy line for tautness. “Not a loose fitting to be seen.”

“He certainly hasn’t left anything to chance,” remarked Scagg.

“Each item in its proper place, just as I’d expect. And would you believe he’s even stuck a marker post at the beginning of his trail? Chase and I discovered it when we were out surveying this afternoon.”

“So you know the route he’s taken?”

“Well, we’re fairly certain,” replied Johns. “As far as we can tell, he’s gone by way of that dry river bed we could see as we sailed in yesterday.”

“But wasn’t that your preferred direction, sir?”

Johns smiled. “Initially, yes, Scagg. However, it seems to me that there’s little to be gained from two parties treading the same ground. Indeed, it may prove favourable to establish a secondary, alternative route. With this in mind, I’ve decided we’ll take a more westerly path than that chosen by Tostig.”

“The river bed looks the easier way by far,” Scagg pointed out. “The natural course is often the best.”

“Maybe so,” Johns smiled again. “But I’m sure our journey will be much more interesting.”

At that moment a cry went up from the main work party. This was followed by a commotion around the Centurion . Quickly they hurried back, and were met halfway by Plover. They paused briefly to hear his news.

“I’m afraid there’s been a mishap.”

“What happened?” asked Scagg.

“Well, a few of us decided to drive some extra wedges under the hull. To make it more secure, so we thought.”

“Who’s this ‘we’?”

“A few of us.”

“And?”

“Unfortunately, we overdid it and the boat tipped forward. One of the mules was crushed under the port bow.”

“What?!” bellowed Scagg, quickly starting off once more. Johns said nothing, but followed with the others to where the hapless creature lay trapped. It was still attached to the rest of the mules, which were now being unharnessed and carefully led away by Summerfield and Firth. Scagg observed the scene for some moments before rounding on Plover.

“Why hadn’t they been moved clear?!” he demanded. “And what was the idea of adding more wedges without consulting myself or Mr Johns?!”

Plover did not reply.

“Well?” said Scagg.

As Plover stood before them, seemingly unable to answer, Johns at last broke his silence.

“It doesn’t matter, Scagg,” he said.

“But it’s such a waste, sir!”

“I know, I know. Yet whatever happened was plainly an accident, and doubtless a valuable lesson has been learned as a result. We’ll just have to make do with one less mule, that’s all.”

From his pocket he produced a revolver, which he loaded and handed to Scagg. Scagg passed it to Cook, who walked over and quickly destroyed the mule. Then Johns turned and addressed the men in general. “Could everyone please try to be a little more careful in future? I should hate us to lose another.”

“Sorry for my part in that,” murmured Plover.

“That’s all right,” Johns replied. “Now perhaps a few of us could get this boat straightened out and made safe again. Can you see the best way of going about it, Scagg?”

“Well, I dare say we’ll manage something if we give it a bit of thought.”

“Good.”

“And the mule will need burying.”

“Of course.”

“So if you want to leave it with me, Mr Johns? I’m sure you’ve got more important issues to deal with.”

“All right, Scagg. Thank you. Yes, I could do with consulting Chase again to discuss possible routes. Maybe we’ll have another stroll before dark.”

§

“Marvellous!” said Cook. “Sheets, pillows and a mattress. Makes a change from swinging about in that blasted hammock.”

“Well, you’d better make the most of it,” remarked Sargent. “Once we set off inland you’ll have to get by with your utility blanket and nothing more.”

Cook stretched himself and yawned. “Yes, I’m fully aware of that fact, thank you,” he said. “But I’ll worry about sacrifice and hardship when we’ve received the order to move, and not a moment before.”

“There’ll be no luxury of any kind,” Sargent continued. “No hot-water bottles. No thickly buttered toast. No orange marmalade or lemon curd. And no more bedtime cocoa.”

“No cocoa? Whyever not?”

“Because we’ll be getting a patent malt drink instead.”

“Good grief.”

“My thoughts exactly. I’ve heard it’s made with powdered milk.”

“How do they produce that then?”

“I’ve no idea, but apparently Johns swears by it. Brought a whole crateful with us.”