The Great White Space (5 page)

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We reached Zak on September 1st and there, with much haggling and grumbling the porters were paid off. I, will describe this old walled town with its Moorish-style architecture at some length a little later. For the moment we were tired with our long journey and the constant pull of the levers over the mountain trails induced a sort of sickness in those of us who had been driving. We were able, naturally, to rest at periods during the day, as we had to halt frequently to allow the porters to catch up with us, but nevertheless it was a blessed relief to learn that Scarsdale intended to stay here a week.

 

We would be able to enjoy fresh fruit and vegetables again as the people of this high plateau had conditions necessary for husbandry and were renowned in the area for the quality of their provisions. We would need to conserve our strength also, for the first of our tests was before us. In a small and necessarily brief council of war the Professor held in his command tractor on the evening of our arrival, he informed us that we would be setting out across the desert to Nylstrom, the last inhabited place before we jumped off into the unknown.

 

This was no less than 200 kilometres away and I looked at the Professor with something approaching awe; for had he not told me something of his previous explorations in this area? And, if I had heard him aright, he would at that time have been proceeding on foot. Even with the help of the porters who had remained on the mountain and who were no doubt familiar with the desert, it was a formidable achievement. I remembered Robson’s friend and his talk of the Professor’s ‘hikes’; formidable indeed. I looked at him again with even greater respect, if that were possible.

 

For the next few days we enjoyed such amenities the town was able to offer. We lived in the tractors, of course, but were able to supplement our somewhat monotonous tinned diet with the fruit and vegetables for which Zak was locally famous; Van Damm and the others worked on the maintenance of the tractors, in preparation for the desert crossing, while I recorded our new surroundings on film. The Professor held several conferences during the week we were resting and though he and the others went into great detail on the technical problems we might encounter, not once did anyone deal directly with what faced us or indeed what was the exact purpose of the Great Northern Expedition.

 

This was one of the main curiosities of the business, but on one of our last evenings Scarsdale did draw me aside to reiterate the importance - and the secrecy — of our project. Here, for the first time in Zak, our great water tanks, each capable of holding over a thousand gallons, were filled for the desert crossing. The water was first boiled and then chemically purified according to an elaborate ritual laid down by Van Damm and the Professor.

 

The people of Zak, who were a curious race with long, pointed heads something like the ancient Egyptians were the most stolid and indifferent people I had ever encountered; not only were they completely unco-operative so far as photographs of themselves were concerned, but completely uninterested in ourselves or in the doings of the Great Northern Expedition. This was all the more astonishing to me as they had never even seen a motor vehicle in their lives, let alone such remarkable vehicles as those we were driving.

 

With their dark, conical hats, and white, beribboned clothing very much like pyjama tops worn with plus-fours and soft leather bootees, they were a reserved and sullen lot, though the women included some notable beauties. The girls particularly were white-skinned and given to revealing one nipple only, in their specially designed clothing, which to a Westerner was extremely provocative. Not that Scarsdale had any need to issue the warning he felt necessary to mention the first evening we were there; the hard, proud attitude of the men and the murderous disembowelling knives they carried sheathed in brass-studded scabbards at their belts would have discouraged the most ardent admirer of their womenfolk.

 

They were, however, among themselves completely polygamous. Though some women preferred three or four husbands and to reserve their favours alone for them, we did note some of the more prominent citizens who had eight or more wives, all under the age of twenty. Fortunately for us, such co-operation as we needed from the populace, was secured by the local ruler, the Mir of Zak, whom Scarsdale had met on his previous visit. He was an extremely jovial man, for these people, that is; over seven feet tall and proportionately broad, he made us welcome and insisted that we park our vehicles within the walls of his palace.

 

This extraordinary building had six courtyards with very fine tesselated pavements; the Palace itself was surrounded by a wall of pink granite over twenty feet high and the sun beat back pitilessly from the pavement of the enclosure so that we at first regretted the hospitality which had forced us to accept this arid spot. However, when Scarsdale had pointed out our difficulties to the Mir, he had our tractors removed to a shady inner court, where fountains of clear water tinkled into lead basins and where strange vegetation, with scarlet and green fruits, grew in riotous profusion.

 

The Palace itself was built of some sort of white volcanic rock or ash, compressed into bricklets, so that it looked like nothing more than a giant wedding cake; at certain times of day it was dangerous to the eyes to look directly at it, so blinding was the light it reflected from the sun, and our party had to wear smoked goggles when we were within the Palace grounds.

 

The town of Zak bestrode the plateau in a commanding position; it was a very ancient and even handsome place with its white and honey-coloured buildings and the clouds of pink birds, rather like doves, which inhabited its towers and courts, and which occasionally explored into the air so that the thousands of birds circling the city looked like a second sunset as the desert sun stained their plumage red. There were no less than ten thousand inhabitants of Zak and the people there still carried on a fairly sophisticated civilization; there were about a hundred land-owners and many of the people of the city went out daily to work on the farms which were extremely fertile, notwithstanding the savage sun, and richly irrigated by an elaborate water-works system controlled from the city.

 

The Mir, in laboured conversations conducted through Scarsdale told us something of his people's customs and history and promised that he would supply a guide to help us on our difficult journey across the desert to Nylstrom. There were even, if Scarsdale's translations were to be believed, civil servants, shopkeepers and many other grades of citizen, administrators and law-makers, within the walls of Zak. We looked, admired, strolled about the old town but avoided too close contact with the people. One could not explain it but one felt it necessary, despite the charm of the town itself. Our innate distrust of the people of Zak was something that was never to leave us.

 

2

 

Naturally, as we were thrown into close contact with one another, I was beginning to learn more about my companions. Dr Van Damm and Scarsdale, now that they were in the field, were working more harmoniously together which proved to me that their acidulous exchanges in England were little more than a pose. I had, of course, had more opportunity to observe my colleagues during the few weeks we had been working together in England and had grown to like them all in their different ways.

 

We had been together on board ship of course, but many other people were there as well; now, on the trip up to Zak we had each of us been alone, concentrating on steering and controlling the tractors, so that in the evenings, when we made camp, we were glad to re-establish contact once again. Now, in Zak, for the first time in our lives we were together and free of all but the most nominal duties for several days. Inevitably, we got to know a great deal more about each other in that brief space of time, than had been possible hitherto.

 

I had a field day for photography and utilising my companions as pack-mules was about the city early and late, photographing and filming for the records; I also intended to produce a moving picture of our activities and though Scarsdale and Van Damm grumbled at having to go through simple motions over and over again, until I had secured the material I wanted, I think they were secretly pleased at this chronicle of what should turn out to be an important step in man's fumbling advances towards knowledge.

 

Holden and Prescott tended to spend much of their time together; as they had once held scientific appointments with the same instrument manufacturing company, their friendship dated from many years earlier and was entirely understandable.

 

Scarsdale and I were within a decade of the same age but he was the leader of the party and his scientific and more abstruse interests meant that he and Van Damm had far more in common, despite the great discrepancy in their ages. Thus it was that I found myself the odd man out; no-one, of course, emphasised this in any way and it did not matter at all. I preferred it, in fact, and it meant that I could go about my photographic errands without having to wait on the whims or preferences of others.

 

I often spent my evenings on the windy edge of the plateau, which was one of the most interesting places in Zak; there, on a knife-edge of honey-coloured rock, I could look out across the desert, while on the other side, just below me in a fertile valley was the irrigation plant which fed the crops and the tall, curiously constructed windmills, with their irregular shaped vanes which pumped the water along the dykes to the fields.

 

The high whine of the pumping machinery; the keening of the wind far out; the curious patterns and whorls in the browny-grey sand of the desert which stretched away across the far horizon; the black and menacing line of the mountains in the distance; and the scorching breath of an oven which came from off the desert like the respiration of a wild beast had a fascination all its own and even now, after all this time, and with the knowledge I bear, I have only to close my eyes to bring it all vividly back to mind. These evenings represented almost the last peaceful moments I was to know in this life.

 

So the days slowly passed in this strange spot with all the gentle inconsistency of a hashish-eater's dream and one evening Scarsdale announced that we would be setting out for the distant fastness of Nylstrom the following morning. We had spent the day testing the tractors and taking on fresh supplies so it was no real surprise but one had become so used to the present life that it was something of a shock to realise that we would shortly be fighting at the levers of the tractors and sweltering in the tropical heat.

 

The Mir had assigned to us one of the more prepossessing of his subjects, the dwarf Zalor, who knew the people of Nylstrom and, what was more important, the nomadic desert tribes, and who, the ruler thought, would be useful to us on our travels. He would remain at Nylstrom and return to Zak with the monthly caravan which traded between these two places. I personally was unimpressed with our guide who had the cold eyes, pointed head, and thick lips endemic to his race and who was, moreover, like all his fellows, completely without a sense of humour.

 

Uniquely, however, he spoke perfect English and a smattering of the desert tongues in addition to his own language, so he was obviously a valuable addition to the expedition. To my regret, however, Scarsdale said that he would be traveling in our tractor for the first day. Scarsdale had a habit, when we were under way, of dividing his time between the tractors; in that way he could see how each of us handled the machines and, what was more important from his point of view, discover how we dealt with the various emergencies that inevitably came up during the course of each day. So I was relieved to know that the formidable figure of the Professor would also be aboard; I should have all my time fully occupied in controlling the machine and I did not relish the somewhat malignant figure of the dwarf hovering over my shoulder during all of the difficult day.

 

It was a morning of shouting wind and brilliant sunshine, the second week in September, when we left Zak; the Mir had graciously consented to see us off in formal style and I took photographs of him shaking hands with Scarsdale and Van Damm and otherwise recorded the historic moment for posterity. The sullen people of the city, as was their habit, showed as little enthusiasm for the occasion as they had for our coming and there were only about a couple of dozen people, mostly officials and administrators from the Palace staff, who had come to salute us into the unknown.

 

They stood in a semi-circle as the whine of the tractor's motors cut through the noise of the wind, and raised their strange, three-pronged wands of office in grave farewell. Van Damm's vehicle, with pennants bravely fluttering, was first off, though this was merely a piece of show. As soon as we were under way my tractor, which would carry the guide, would be in the lead position and the others would take station on us. In the meantime the dwarf Zalor pointed out the general direction to Van Damm; we were heading south, but would have to shift and tack across the great sand wilderness to avoid certain geological features.

 

At last, with the other three great machines lumbering across the ridge and making for the distant point where the earth ran out into browny-grey sand, Scarsdale stood on the steps of Number 1 Command vehicle and waved a dignified farewell. I recorded the moment for the official archives and then turned to follow him into the machine; Zalor was in front of me and he missed his footing on the shallow metal steps. Something tinkled down to his feet. I bent to the ground and picked it up and handed it back to him. His dark eyes looked malignly at me and he thrust the article back into the pocket of his blouse without a word.