Magnus Mills - Explorers of the New Century

“A fine view,” said Tostig.

“Or not much of one,” replied Guthrum. “Depending on your outlook.”

“I suppose this absence of wind is little more than a brief hiatus?”

“So says Thorsson.”

“More gales imminent?”

“Apparently.”

“No promise of a few warm zephyrs to ease our way?”

“No.”

“Pity.”

They gazed into the distance for a while longer. Then, having seen enough, they returned to join the others. Tostig went straight over to Thegn.

“How are the mules’ appetites?” he enquired.

“Interesting you should ask,” said Thegn. “They’re feeding well enough but they’re certainly taking their time over it. Quite a solemn affair, actually. One would almost think it was the last meal they ever expected to get.”

Some of the mules had now ceased eating and were looking across at the two men.

“They were singing in the night,” Thegn added.

“You needn’t concern yourself with that,” said Tostig, nodding towards a particular mule. “See the one at the front there? Am I correct in thinking it generally leads the column when we’re on the march?”

“Yes, it does.”

“Well, from now on make sure it receives an extra quantity of mash each day. Not too much, you understand: just enough to cause the rest of them to be jealous. With luck, it should take their minds off feeling sorry for themselves.”

“Right you are, sir.”

“As for the separate question of our own rations, I’m afraid each of us will be getting by on short measures for a day or two until the deficit is made up.” Tostig glanced at the dwindling supplies before smiling grimly to himself. “And all for the sake of a little green ink.”

As Thegn resumed his duties, Tostig consulted Thorsson about their estimated position. Thorsson mentioned that the bluff would be the first noteworthy addition to the map for quite some while. It was the only landmark for miles around, and he suggested it should be given an official name. Tostig liked the idea but could think of none suitable, so at lunchtime he threw it open to the others.

“What about ‘Observation Point’?” offered Guthrum.

“But we hardly observed a thing,” said Tostig. “The horizon was obscured.”

“All right then: ‘Obscurity Point’.”

“Too vague.”

Guthrum puffed out his cheeks and gazed up at the looming bluff; but he said no more.

“I propose calling it ‘Solitude Point’,” said Thorsson.

“Not bad,” said Tostig. “How about you, Snaebjorn? What do you think?”

“Solitude Bluff.”

“An interesting variation. Why, all of a sudden we seem to have the makings of a parlour game on our hands. Come on, Thegn: your turn.”

“We could simply name it after whoever saw it first.”

“And who was that?”

Nobody answered.

“Come, come,” said Tostig. “Let us not be coy. Surely one of us is able to claim the first sighting?”

For a full minute he looked from face to face, but still there were no takers.

“Well, gentlemen,” he said at length, “I must confess such reticence makes me feel very proud indeed. Any one of you could have put yourself forward, but instead you each allowed your companions the chance. This speaks volumes about the comradeship that has developed between us all; furthermore, it provides the answer to the question under debate: Thorsson, next time you’re working on the map you can mark this place as ‘Modesty Bluff’.”

“Yes, sir.”

The issue being settled, they quickly completed their meal and prepared to continue the journey. A bleak afternoon was in store. Even as they departed the wind returned, streaming in from the north and bearing with it fine flecks of swirling dust: something they had not encountered before. There was mounting disquiet as it got into their eyes and throats, causing untold delays and raising doubts about the adequacy of the water supply.

“It is imperative that we find a river or spring soon,” said Tostig, when they retired that evening. “Otherwise thirst will become a major problem.”

“The mules seem to be suffering the most,” said Guthrum. “Their pace has slowed significantly.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s caused by the weather.”

“Really?”

“No, Guthrum, I’m afraid they’re displaying all the signs of self-willed torpor. It’s a condition Younghusband identified years ago. As a matter of fact, he published a pamphlet on the subject. Basically his argument is that in times of hardship the mules tend to channel all their energies into their emotions, rather than any sort of physical activity. You’re aware, of course, how strong they can be when they choose?”

“Indeed,” said Guthrum.

“So just imagine all that strength expressed in a show of sorrow. We heard it in the wailing that went on the other night: a crying out, I presume, for some god or other to come and help them. Well, we know there’s no such thing as any god: we can only be saved by our own exertions, and the same applies for the mules, whether they like it or not.”

“What are we going to do then?”

“Simply plod on, Guthrum. We’ve already tried cajoling them with a regime of unfair feeding, but Thegn tells me their leader steadfastly refused the extra quantity on offer. Very well then: we’ll have to employ other methods. I’m reluctant to be harsh, but if necessary we’ll get behind them and drive them with sticks for the last few miles!”

§

Early next morning, Snaebjorn looked in through the flap of the supply tent where Thegn lay curled.

“Are you asleep?” he asked.

“Not now, no,” answered Thegn.

“Well, may I ask you something?”

“If you wish. Squeeze in.”

Snaebjorn entered and sat down on a wooden box. A layer of dust covered his clothing.

“Still the same out there then?” Thegn enquired.

“And thickening,” replied Snaebjorn, before lapsing into a prolonged silence.

Eventually Thegn said, “What is it you want to ask me?”

“Just this,” said Snaebjorn. “Why didn’t you claim the first sighting of the bluff?”

“Because I wasn’t sure if it was me or not.”

“But it must have been you. You led for most of the time yesterday morning.”

“That doesn’t mean incontrovertibly that I noticed the bluff before anyone else. Come to think of it, I might ask why you didn’t claim it. No doubt your eyesight is superior to mine.”

“Maybe so,” said Snaebjorn. “Nonetheless, I’m convinced you saw it first.”

“Then go and report me to Tostig!” snapped Thegn. “Have me charged with high treason or some such nonsense like you did the last time!”

“That was different,” murmured Snaebjorn. “On that occasion I was only doing my duty.”

“What’s all this about then?”

“Merely that I seem to have misjudged you.”

“Oh.”

“I assumed you were only included in the expedition because of your ‘connections’, whereas I can now see that you possess certain valuable qualities.”

“Really?” said Thegn. “Well, I won’t ask you to list them.”

“Thank you.”

“Is that all you had to say to me?”

“Yes.”

“Then consider the matter settled.”

After Snaebjorn had withdrawn, Thegn lay for some minutes gazing at the roof of the tent. His face at first bore a bewildered expression, but eventually this disappeared and was replaced with a smile. He gave a quiet laugh and shook his head; then he got up and went out. Snaebjorn was busy making breakfast, and neither man paid the other any attention. Tostig and Guthrum were standing near the group of mules, studiously watching them take their feed. Throughout the night a restless jangling of bells had permeated the little camp, and as the wind shook the flimsy walls the mournful singing had been heard again. It had lasted for many an hour, and only with the breaking of dawn had the voices fallen silent. Now the mules were eating, gathered together in a half-circle, heads bowed, facing away from the men, and seemingly oblivious to the flying dust.