Read Online The Great White Space by Basil Copper - Free Book Online
Authors: Basil Copper
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distant tops of the blunt-spiked mountains until it seemed as though the whole of the far horizon were a mass of shimmering blood. Across the face of the mountain mass were striated white lines which looked, at that distance, like nothing so much as an intricately traced map or, if one were particularly fanciful, the many-stranded structure of a spider's web.
Even the normally icy-tempered Van Damm seemed affected, for he gave a low, muttered exclamation under his breath, the gist of which I did not catch.
'I wish I had brought along my camera/ I exclaimed involuntarily. 'This would make a splendid subject for the film introduction to the final approach.'
The doctor shook his head.
'You are young, Plowright,' he said slowly. 'I don't like it. I don't like it at all.'
And he turned his back resolutely on that scene of brooding splendour and neither would he enlarge on his remarks at all, though I several times returned to it that evening.
All he would say at a later stage was, 'There is northern blood in my veins, some generations removed, Plowright. The northern races are, as you know, mystics. The Black Mountains as a geographic conception on the map are splendid. Seen as a reality they arouse in me feelings which you, as an extremely young man from my standpoint of years, could hardly be expected to share. I pray that you do not come round to my way of thinking before this trip is over.'
2
I retired to bed somewhat irritated and puzzled at Van Damm's attitude. The whole idea of the Great Northern Expedition was, from the layman's point of view, extraordinary; when we set off four out of five did not know exactly where we were going, except that it was opposite to north. And until now Scarsdale, though he had given many hints and spoken to me personally of shifting lights and writing on stones, had only spoken practically of rubber boats, tractors and of the importance of having some people of physical strength along.
But my mind thrives on enigmas and if the truth were told most of my adventurings had been along these lines; I neither knew nor cared where my journeyings took me, providing that I could be free to take pictures and that I had agreeable companions with whom to share the journey. And this great enterprise promised abundance of both. Pondering on this and various other things I fell into a broken sleep.
I woke round about three a.m.; though we had the tractor shutters closed I knew that it was before dawn. I lay awake for several minutes before checking the time by my illuminated wristlet watch. What had aroused me was a minute, metallic noise; a noise which was presently, and furtively repeated.
I opened my eyes fully at this point and by slightly turning my head I was able to bring the Professor's bunk into focus; his large bulk was impassive beneath the blankets, the faint respiration of his breathing clearly audible. He was fast asleep. I turned my head slowly away from him when I became aware of a blurred shape sliding across my field of vision. A minute breeze blew into the closely regulated temperature of the tractor interior; someone had opened the outer door of the command tractor. A moment later it shut with a click which was the replica of the one which had originally awakened me.
It sounded once again as someone tested the handle from outside. I was up and groping for my trousers by this time; I swiftly put them on over my pyjamas and put my bare feet into my slippers. I saw a shadow pass across the windscreen of the tractor as I was doing this. It had gone to the left so I waited a few seconds before I myself opened the door and slipped quietly out into the night.
We had parked the machines in a small cul-de-sac by some metal-beaters' workshops just off the main square of the town, so I knew my quarry could only have gone into the square. I felt fairly confident of picking him up again. I was fairly certain also that I knew who he was. None of our colleagues were likely to visit the
Even the normally icy-tempered Van Damm seemed affected, for he gave a low, muttered exclamation under his breath, the gist of which I did not catch.
'I wish I had brought along my camera/ I exclaimed involuntarily. 'This would make a splendid subject for the film introduction to the final approach.'
The doctor shook his head.
'You are young, Plowright,' he said slowly. 'I don't like it. I don't like it at all.'
And he turned his back resolutely on that scene of brooding splendour and neither would he enlarge on his remarks at all, though I several times returned to it that evening.
All he would say at a later stage was, 'There is northern blood in my veins, some generations removed, Plowright. The northern races are, as you know, mystics. The Black Mountains as a geographic conception on the map are splendid. Seen as a reality they arouse in me feelings which you, as an extremely young man from my standpoint of years, could hardly be expected to share. I pray that you do not come round to my way of thinking before this trip is over.'
2
I retired to bed somewhat irritated and puzzled at Van Damm's attitude. The whole idea of the Great Northern Expedition was, from the layman's point of view, extraordinary; when we set off four out of five did not know exactly where we were going, except that it was opposite to north. And until now Scarsdale, though he had given many hints and spoken to me personally of shifting lights and writing on stones, had only spoken practically of rubber boats, tractors and of the importance of having some people of physical strength along.
But my mind thrives on enigmas and if the truth were told most of my adventurings had been along these lines; I neither knew nor cared where my journeyings took me, providing that I could be free to take pictures and that I had agreeable companions with whom to share the journey. And this great enterprise promised abundance of both. Pondering on this and various other things I fell into a broken sleep.
I woke round about three a.m.; though we had the tractor shutters closed I knew that it was before dawn. I lay awake for several minutes before checking the time by my illuminated wristlet watch. What had aroused me was a minute, metallic noise; a noise which was presently, and furtively repeated.
I opened my eyes fully at this point and by slightly turning my head I was able to bring the Professor's bunk into focus; his large bulk was impassive beneath the blankets, the faint respiration of his breathing clearly audible. He was fast asleep. I turned my head slowly away from him when I became aware of a blurred shape sliding across my field of vision. A minute breeze blew into the closely regulated temperature of the tractor interior; someone had opened the outer door of the command tractor. A moment later it shut with a click which was the replica of the one which had originally awakened me.
It sounded once again as someone tested the handle from outside. I was up and groping for my trousers by this time; I swiftly put them on over my pyjamas and put my bare feet into my slippers. I saw a shadow pass across the windscreen of the tractor as I was doing this. It had gone to the left so I waited a few seconds before I myself opened the door and slipped quietly out into the night.
We had parked the machines in a small cul-de-sac by some metal-beaters' workshops just off the main square of the town, so I knew my quarry could only have gone into the square. I felt fairly confident of picking him up again. I was fairly certain also that I knew who he was. None of our colleagues were likely to visit the
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