The Querulous Effect (7 page)

The Prof leaned back and propped himself up against the trunk of an apple tree. He took a deep breath and told his eager young team what conclusion he had come to.

“I can't be absolutely sure but my guess is that Cosmo is working on some project high up north, somewhere in the Arctic Circle. It seems very surprising but from the bits of evidence that are emerging I think it is quite probable.”

Tim looked at the Prof quizzically. “The Arctic Circle!” he blurted out. “We'd never find him. Even if we could get there. I can't see Toby pulling the caravan that far!”

The Prof laughed. “I'm not saying he is just anywhere in the Arctic Circle. No I have a shrewd idea where he might be – give or take a few hundred kilometres.”

“A few hundred kilometres!” Tim exclaimed. Then sensing that he was pushing his luck with the Prof's patience he sat quietly again.

“I agree we need to do some more research to narrow that range,” the Prof continued, “but we now have some good leads.”

The Prof went on to tell the children about the telephone conversation he had had with Tom Claythorne the previous night. He explained that many years ago, Tom had been captain of a trawler which sailed regularly from the Yorkshire coast into the North Sea and beyond, fishing for herring. Tom had kindly taken the professor with him on a number of voyages, when the Prof was a young student just starting his academic career. The reason was that herrings, when they start to de-compose, sometimes shine in the dark as a result of luminous bacteria and it was the origin of that bacteria that the professor was researching as part of his early studies. He and Tom had always kept in touch and sailed together from time to time over the years, so Tom was well aware of the Prof's interests. Tom came from a sea-faring family. His father and grandfather had sailed on whaling ships and now Tom's own son, Barry, captained a trawler. But with new regulations and less fish to find, as fish stocks diminished, Barry was having to sail further afield, high up into Arctic waters to be sure of a good catch. In recent weeks Tom's son had brought back stories, from talking to other ships' crews, of some strange sights. There were reports of fish which glowed in the dark, even one tale of a whale sighted in the distance, glowing green.

Then there were tales also of flashing lights in the sky at dusk. The Prof explained that at first the crews thought they might be associated with the Northern Lights or ‘aurora borealis.'

Tim interrupted again. “Oh, yes. I've read about the Northern Lights in my book on astronomy. It's an effect caused by particles from the sun hitting the Earth's magnetic field above the North Pole and it makes curtains of light in the atmosphere.”

“You're right, Tim,” said the Prof, “but it wasn't the Northern Lights. Nor was it meteor showers which the sailors also thought it might be. No, those flashing light displays turned out to be flocks of diving sea-birds, which were also glowing in the dusk. The light was coming either from the birds themselves or from the fish they were catching out at sea.”

“Now I see what you are getting at,” said Tim, “the same sort of thing that happened with that fish in our river.” Jay and Ella nodded in agreement.

“Exactly!” said the professor. “That's what I thought. Just the same but on a massive scale. It must be Cosmo. Whatever he is up to, it is a much bigger project. And a much bigger mess! I am sure you can see now why I am so keen we get on his trail and sort this out before he does irreparable damage to the wild life in the Arctic.”

The children nodded seriously in agreement.

“But where is he?” Jay asked.

“Well, I'm pretty sure he is on the east coast of Greenland,” replied the Prof. “All these sightings were in the seas between Greenland and Iceland. And the most convincing evidence to my mind is this book.”

He held out the thick, old, leather-bound volume he had brought out from the house and continued with his explanation. “You see, I was sitting in my study, having just put down the phone after my conversation with Tom Claythorne and wondering whether it was Cosmo who was the cause of all the unusual sights Tom's son had reported, when I noticed this book sticking out from the shelf. It had been moved from its original place. I haven't read it for years and I assume you haven't borrowed it, Tim.”

Tim shook his head. “No, I haven't. In fact, it looks a bit boring to me.”

“It may look boring but it's actually very interesting. It's by a man who was born around 200 years ago. He was born in Bavaria in Germany, and travelled a lot, eventually becoming a professor of mineralogy, which is the study of rocks and minerals. By then he had changed his German name and been knighted by the King of Denmark and was known as Sir Charles Lewis Giesecke. The interesting thing is that he spent a long time on the Greenland coast, making lots of discoveries about plants and sea-life as well as rocks. And,” the Prof continued, looking hard at the children and raising his voice in emphasis, “he also noted sea creatures in the Greenland sea that shone in the dark.”

The children all nodded in agreement. That did seem to be an important link.

“Not only that,” the Prof went on, “even more interesting still, is the fact that Giesecke originally studied at Göttingen University in Germany. It was whilst I was teaching at that very university that I first met Cosmo! And what is more, Cosmo was making a special study of Giesecke's work when he was there and knew all about his journeys along the Greenland coast.”

“I see,” said Jay. “So you think Cosmo may have been reminded of Giesecke by spotting your book when he was working with you.”

“Exactly!” said the Prof. “Then, when he was asked a little later by the boss of Blusterton International to set up a research facility, I think Cosmo recalled Giesecke's work and decided that he would follow in Giesecke's footsteps and go to Greenland as the ideal place to do his research. The Arctic waters are fertile for sea life with plenty of plankton and other nutrients for him to use as he carried out his work. And, of course, no-one would ever think of looking for him there.”

“Except us!” said Tim.

Everyone seemed excited that the mystery of Cosmo Querulous' whereabouts appeared to be solved. But the excitement did not last long. It was Jay who made the obvious observation.

“I think you may well be right, Prof,” he said, “but as we said earlier, Greenland is a very long way. How could we possibly get there with all the equipment that we took to the factory? We probably need even more if Cosmo's experiment is on a large scale.”

“I've been thinking about that,” replied the Prof. “I agree it isn't easy. I've wondered about seeing if we could travel on board one of the Claythorne family's trawlers. It could certainly carry all the equipment we need. But the problem is that it would be a very long voyage and, from the reports we have received, we need to get there very urgently. Sailing there and then searching from a trawler, even if could sail close enough to the coast, might take too long.”

“Could we fly?” suggested Ella.

The Prof shook his head. “I've thought about that too. It would certainly be quick but I don't think any airline would let us carry all the equipment we need. And, in any case, there are not any suitable airports where we could land near the Greenland coast.”

The little group fell silent, each of them thinking hard. Jay turned the matter over in his mind and then reviewed the problem, saying reflectively, “So a boat can take all our equipment but is too slow and a plane is fast enough but can't take the load or land. What we need then is a boat that can fly.”

The Prof nodded. “A good analysis, Jay, but I don't think it solves our problem.”

“No, I suppose not,” said Jay and everyone fell silent again.

Suddenly Tim leapt to his feet. “It does solve it!” he shouted. “Jay is right. I know what we need, I've read about them. A boat that flies – a flying boat!”

The Prof leapt up too. “You're right, Tim. Jay has done it again. What a suggestion. Why didn't I think of that before? Of course, a flying boat.”

“What do you mean?” asked Ella. “I don't understand what you are talking about.”

“A flying boat is a kind of aeroplane, Ella,” explained the professor. “Instead of wheels it has large floats so it can land on water. It would be the perfect way to search and land by the Greenland coast. And what is more, I know someone who might still have one!”

Less than an hour after the discussion in the orchard, a small, sprightly lady baking in her kitchen in a cottage by a loch in the Scottish highlands was interrupted by the telephone. This was most inconvenient but 'phone calls were rare these days and she felt that she had better answer it. She rubbed the flour off her hands, covered the half-prepared shortbread with a tea-towel and lifted the telephone.

“The Boat House, Kilgardie Loch,” she said, “Jeannie McDoon speaking.”

The Professor introduced himself and explained the purpose of his call. Fifteen minutes later, having finished the shortbread and popped it into the oven, Mrs. McDoon buttoned up her cardigan, picked up a megaphone from the hallway and made her way through the neat garden down to the loch side. She stood at the end of the garden, next to a wooden jetty which ran out into the loch and put the megaphone to her lips.

“Ahoy, Sandy. Sandy, ahoy!” Her voice rang out through the loud-hailer and she repeated the call.

Her words were addressed to her husband, Sandy McDoon, Squadron Leader (Retired). Rather, they were addressed to his feet, which stuck out from under the wing of an enormous flying boat moored alongside the jetty.

The stentorian tones of Mrs. McDoon's magnified voice rang out once more from the megaphone. “Sandy! Ahoy! Sandy!”

The feet twitched and slowly the figure of Sandy McDoon wriggled out from under the wing, spanner in hand. He peered at the diminutive figure of his wife standing at the other end of the jetty and saw her raise the megaphone to her lips once more.

“Telephone, Sandy! It's that mad professor chum of yours, Theobald Ricardo. It sounded urgent. I explained you were out tinkering with your flying boat but that just made him even more keen to talk to you. He said he'd ring back in an hour, so you'd better come in – but mind you clean up first!”

Sandy signalled that he had understood. As Jeannie made her way back, he put his spanners back in the tool box, wiped the oil off his hands and plodded after her along the jetty to the house. He had changed out of his overalls and washed his hands when the 'phone rang again and he picked it up to hear the familiar voice of Prof Ricardo. They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes and then Sandy made the obvious enquiry.

“It's grand to hear from you, Theobald, but there must be a reason for this call.” The children, who were listening in on the ‘phone loudspeaker could hardy stop from giggling when they heard the Prof called ‘Theobald.' Why that should be funny they didn't know; it just was.

The Prof ignored their obvious amusement and went on, “Indeed there is a very good reason for my call,” he said. “Have you still got that great Sunderland flying boat you restored?”

“That I have,” said Sandy. “In fact, I was enjoying myself checking it over when I was interrupted by your ‘phone call.”

“So it's still operational then?” asked the Prof.

“Oh, aye. Pretty well ready for immediate service.”

“What about a long sea crossing? Could it handle that? My assistants, who, I should say, are listening–in on this call, and I need to get to Greenland as a matter of the utmost urgency. Is that possible?”

Sandy assured the listening team that even such a long flight might well be possible but suggested that it would be helpful if he was told the whole story.

The explanation of their concerns about Cosmo Querulous and the outline of their plans took some time. So it was a long but ultimately a very satisfactory conversation. It was agreed that Sandy would need a week or so to prepare and equip the flying boat for a long flight but that the Prof and children would need that time anyway to assemble all their equipment and clothing and supplies for the cold climate of Greenland.

In the days that followed there were many more long 'phone calls as final details were sorted out. In particular, the team soon realised that they would not be able to transport all their equipment up to Loch Kilgardie easily by car or train. Use of the gypsy caravan for such a long journey was out of the question and certainly an impossible journey for the faithful old Toby to tackle. Sandy pointed out that the only option was to bring the flying boat closer to them. He suggested Lake Windermere in the Lake District, where the original Sunderland flying boats had been built. However, that was still much too far from the Prof's place. Finally, after special permission was secured by Sandy from old friends at the Air Ministry, it was agreed that he could land on Grafton Water, a deep lake not far from Frimpton. The great advantage was that Toby and the gypsy caravan could easily make that journey.

In the end it was just over a week and after many such telephone conversations, before all the plans were firmly in place and a time fixed to meet up at Grafton Water. Not that any time was wasted. A full day was spent rummaging through chests in the loft for the cold-weather clothing the Prof had used on earlier expeditions. To these were added a supply of modern Arctic clothing for the children, sent by special delivery from a mountaineering shop in London.

The final job was packing all the equipment into the gypsy caravan ready for transportation to Grafton Water. The final boxes were loaded by tea-time on the day before the date agreed to rendezvous with Sandy. It would be a very early start next day, so the children went to bed straight after tea. Ella was soon fast asleep but Jay and Tim in their shared room were too excited to settle down straight away.

“Why don't you just bore me to sleep with some of your facts,” suggested Jay.

Tim, ignoring the implied insult, readily took up the suggestion. “I'll tell you what animals we might encounter in the Arctic,” he said, thumbing through the index of his encyclopaedia. “Let me see; ‘Arctic fox', page 16, ‘musk ox', page 172, ‘narwhal', page 217. I think I'll start with that.” He flicked through the pages. “Oh yes, this is very interesting. Apparently…”

But Jay didn't hear any more. He was fast asleep.