Free Uncharted Seas by Dennis Wheatley Page A

she returned to the tent and when she reappeared some moments later he saw that she had met his order by a compromise, having braided her hair into two long plaits. As her face was still heavily made up the result was not a happy one; she looked like a middleaged actress playing the part of a schoolgirl in some third-rate revue.
    For a company of fourteen, not counting the women or De Brissac, the duties were light. Luvia, Jansen and Basil took turns at the tiller; from the remainder shifts of three—one to do the look-out and two to handle the sail each time the boat went about—were all that was necessary.
    With monotonous regularity they tacked from one side to the other, making the best of the light breeze and creeping gradually a few miles further westward. Luvia knew that even if they hadhad provisions for a month they could never have reached the coast of South America at this pace, but it was better for everybody’s morale that they should appear to be making some attempt to get somewhere rather than confess complete impotence and just let the boat drift.
    When he took an observation of the sun at midday he found that the current had carried them still further southward; the wind was too light for him to counteract the movement.
    As he remarked on it Unity said: ‘There is land at the Antarctic—isn’t there?’
    He nodded. ‘There certainly is. Several pretty useful islands still lie south of us. South Georgia and the South Orkney group; then there’s Graham Land, a long, coastal region of the Antarctic continent itself.’
    ‘I suppose there’s nothing but snow and ice there, though?’
    ‘You’re wrong to suppose that at this season. Graham Land’s only about sixty-five south, same as my own homeland, Finland, in the northern hemisphere. It’s grand there in summer; the lakes and woods are just wonderful. Such carpets of wild flowers, too, as you never see in other places except, perhaps, Siberia. We get a twenty-four-hour day to enjoy them in, what’s more. You see, Nature makes up to us a bit for the long, dark night she hands us out in winter and, although I don’t know a thing about Graham Land, I figure it must be much the same.’
    ‘Really!’ Unity brightened instantly. ‘Are there settlers there then—little towns and villages?’
    ‘A few maybe; but the Antarctic’s so cut off from the rest of the world it’s only been explored in quite recent times. I don’t think there’s any native population, and Europeans have hardly woken up yet to its possibilities. Still, there’d certainly be settlements of sorts round the whaling stations.’
    ‘Then we’d be all right if we got there; even if we had to rough it for a bit before we could find a ship to take us home?’
    ‘That’s so, we’d be as well off there as we would be in Patagonia or the Falklands—if only we could make it.’
    ‘How far south of us is Graham Land, and these islands?’
    ‘Oh, quite a way,’ Luvia answered casually. He had not the heart to tell her that the Antarctic coast was even further off than that of South America.
    During the hottest hours those who were not on duty endeavoured to doze again but, unlike the previous day, when they had needed sleep after their ordeal, they found it difficult to escapetheir misery in slumber. Even so there was less talk among the men and, although little was said, it was obvious from their strained faces that every one of them was the prey of the same desperate anxiety.
    Basil alone roamed the boat from stem to stern, exchanging small talk with all and sundry. His craving for what he termed a civilised drink made him restless and irritable. He stubbornly refused to allow himself to cadge a further peg from Synolda or Hansie, but he could see no earthly reason why Luvia should not allow him a tot of the boat’s rum. In his view it was absurd to hold the stuff for medical purposes when the only invalid among them was the Frenchman, who was not allowed it anyway because