Hunt - Everland

For Simon, for ever

R unning on the beach. Chaotic noises, busy. A call; a male voice shouting in the wind. The sound of something happening in the surf.

It was a dream perhaps, or perhaps a memory leaching out. Such a sweet dream though. Ship-O!... Napps... Are you there? Are you all well?

A glimmer of consciousness brought him back into the overturned dinghy. He remembered Everland as a colour, an immense blackness, where the cycle of time had dilated to a single endless night. But to permit even a fraction of wakefulness was to suffer. The pain was monstrous. Think of God, if at all.

He heard digging. Snow was being shovelled away from the dinghys buried sides.

We have him! We have one of them!

A burst of activity surrounded him as men crawled into the dinghy. His arms were clenched around his head, covering his face, and they talked in low whispers, afraid to touch him.

Someone said tentatively, Is he alive?

I dont know, I cant tell. Wheres the doctor? Hurry, get Addison.

Boots pelted off across the shingle.

Napps?... Millet-Bass?... Men were searching the beach and yells echoed from every direction. Any sign? they called to each other.

Addison arrived and knelt close. Can you hear me? he said, leaning down to talk to Dinners directly. Were taking you back to the ship. Can you hear me, Dinners?

Then he asked for assistance from those nearby. Be very careful, on my instruction. Very, very careful, this will hurt him. So easy does it. All hands ready?

In agony, Dinners moaned and ground his teeth as they lifted him on to a stretcher. He was carried to the shoreline and passed over to men on a boat. Oars drove against the ice-crusted waves.

Its all right, were here and weve found you now, Addison said when Dinners looked up at him and started to cry.

The gratitude was overpowering. Dinners cried for the miracle of being found He cried for not being driven out of his collapsing body and made to die alone in the cold. And he cried for Napps and Millet-Bass; for the heartbreak and the pity of what had come before.

S waying from a hook on the ceiling, the lanterns orange light slowly passed from one side of the cabin to the other. It illuminated the desk, then the sink, then Dinnerss bulk beneath the covers, then Dinnerss greenish deadened ear. Sitting beside the bed, Addison was thinking of Napps and Millet-Bass, most keenly of Napps. He tried to believe in a divine love which would choose to shield and save.

They were in the Captains room, as Lawrence himself had insisted before setting off to Everland again with the rescue party. It was the most luxurious cabin on the ship. The bed was built in at one end, the walls decorated with a selection of pictures. A couple of shelves housed Lawrences slight personal library and his records of dance-hall music and opera. Pinned above the desk was a photograph of Lawrence shaking hands with a man Addison recognized as Joseph Evelyn. It was mid-afternoon and a number of the crew were finishing lunch in the Officers Mess.

Unlike the Mess Deck, that cramped dump of a room for sailors, the Officers Mess had the air of a gentlemens club. It was spacious and glossily wood-panelled, with an impressive fireplace. Officers didnt pack together on unpadded benches as the sailors did; they werent jammed around a table which was little more than some planks nailed to a rough frame. The officers sat at a beautifully designed and polished table. Their comfortable chairs were secured to the floor with a metal peg, and could be swivelled in a full circle, allowing the sitter to turn himself either away or towards any of his companions. Although the sailors slept like animals in a clutter of bunks and hammocks, the walls of the Officers Mess were lined with monogrammed doors which opened into private quarters. Because Lawrence had an amused, slightly bohemian attitude to class division, some men who werent officers had been granted access to this civilized paradise. These lucky individuals were perhaps favourites of the Captain, or friends of other officers, or were neither but had a talent for blagging.

The mood was pensive. No one spoke much. The majority of the crew were still ashore searching for Napps and Millet-Bass, and those left on board were grimly aware of the probable outcome. Dr Addison was an exceptional physician and Dinners might be able to relay the events if he could be coaxed into health. But the man sent to take Addison some food had returned with a heavy expression, shaking his head: no change in his condition. No, it didnt look good.

Shall I say what were all thinking? said Coppers. He looked around the room. Or should we continue to pretend that were surprised the decision to send Dinners to Everland hasnt worked out. As if it ever made sense to any of us. Send someone with the resilience of a newborn lamb on that kind of expedition, and you expect, what? That its going to be a success?

Coppers never knew when to keep his mouth shut. Everyone listening averted their eyes, embarrassed by his tactlessness. This didnt mean they disagreed with him.

A festering stench had warned them of Dinnerss state. Theyd placed him on Lawrences bed and stripped off his outer garments, cutting away the dog-fur gloves and finnesko boots. Someone had gagged and then whispered, smells of rotting meat. Addison had cautioned the mans lack of discretion with a sharp glance, and the other men kept quiet when they saw what lay inside Dinnerss mitts and boots. All toes and fingers were black and burnt-looking relics. Suppurating wounds showed where gangrene was poisoning living tissue.

Dinnerss feet and hands were bathed and sterilized, then bandaged as well as could be done immediately. They removed a torn green sledging flag tied over a hopelessly infected knee and swabbed out the foul liquid. Once Dinners had rested, Addison would assess if he could cope with being fully unclothed and washed, his wounds inspected more thoroughly. Piled under blankets with his filthy long underwear still on, Dinners was given brandy mixed with hot water and a cup of sweet tea. Hed slept briefly. On waking, Addison had spoon-fed him broth, holding Dinnerss head and drying him with a napkin as he choked and retched with each mouthful.

Hours had passed. Addison was nearly dozing when he heard a sound. Gripped by an involuntary fearful instinct, Dinners struggled. He was trying to talk.

Its all right, Addison said, stroking his hair to comfort him. Im here with you.

Dinners would not be comforted. He pulled away from Addisons hand, his face twisted in misery.

Shhh, Addison said. I promise you are safe.

Dinnerss eyes were a fascinating blue, almost a chalk-blue. They lolled up to show the whites and then swam back. I would have gone with him, he said, his voice little more than a rasp of air. I wanted to. But I couldnt find him.

T he Antarctic base Aegeus was currently home to an international community of one hundred and fifty people. It was a stark industrial hamlet of featureless buildings with rough roads bulldozed into the snow. Metal and scrap were piled next to sealed storage drums, lengths of pipe, and stacked wooden pallets bound with plastic cable. Forklifts and heavy-duty vehicles stood against corrugated iron barns and yellow shipping containers. Chains with links wide enough to push a fist through lay coiled on chipboard slats. Above the garage doorway was a pair of antlers nailed in the position of drawn cutlasses. Screwed to a wooden post at the end of the runway was a walrus skull wearing a Yankees baseball cap that had been there for as long as anyone whod ever been to Aegeus could remember. The buildings were either a dirty white or pale silo green, and lined with rows of triple-glazed windows.