Search for the Sunlight

It was mid morning, when Herbert and Sherlock finally rose from their sacks.

Fully kitted out in their new designer sunglasses, the pair swaggered, smoother than Jones, down the short gravel path to join Basil and Harry for breakfast.

“D’you know what?” Herbert said, turning round casually and walking backwards as he addressed the officer. “There’s something about a pair of quality shades that just sorts your attitude.” He snapped his fingers and, without missing a step, turned round again to face in the direction they were both travelling in.

Sherlock’s lip involuntarily curled up at the edge. “Yep, they sure do,” he said, with a deep southern drawl, in an attempt to mimic his favourite rock‘n’roll idol, Elvis Parsley.

When Harry saw the late-comers swaggering towards him, he was thankful for the distraction.

“Nice to see you up and about,” he announced sarcastically. “And how are the legs this morning?” he enquired.

The Constable sat down next to the fire and prodded both limbs with his twiggy fingers.

“They’re good,” he replied. He could feel every movement, which was a big improvement on yesterday. Apart from a slight twinge in his right knee, which he put down to his age, he remarked how well he felt. “I think we can move on soon,” he said.

For Harry, this was excellent news. Over the past few weeks he had done more than his fair share of hanging about and he was fed up being stuck in the one place for what he considered to be far too long. But now, with Sherlock’s improving health, things were looking brighter.

Basil meanwhile, had wandered off to find some solitude. He was sitting quietly, on the edge of the mountain, taking in the glorious view, when it occurred to him that everything he could see around him, including the neighbouring peaks, was at least a thousand feet lower than he was. Thinking this odd - for in his mind, he was sure the bats had said they would set them down on a plateau on the other side of the mountain - he returned to the camp site and took the badly creased map from inside Herbert’s Lapsack. Opening the document out on the ground, he placed a small flat stone on each of the four corners to prevent it from blowing away in the breeze, and began searching for clues that might reveal their actual location. In the bright sunlight a few previously illegible references points, pertaining to the height and location of the various peaks in the range, had become visible. But if the bats hadn’t left them on the plateau, like they had suggested, then where were they?

Restricted by his limited map reading abilities, Basil called on Sherlock for his expert assistance. Happy to oblige, the officer joined him and together they studied the old chart closely.

In spite of its poor condition, Sherlock recognised immediately that it was upside down.

He raised his eyes skywards, tutted loudly and with a wry smile turned the document the right way up. For more than an hour, the pair mulled over the faded grid-lines and contours, counting and measuring until eventually, Sherlock announced that there were four peaks in the range. Known as ‘The Quadrocks,’ these towering elevations spanned more than half the length of The Great Rift Valley and, if his calculations were correct, it would appear that the bats had left them on top of one of these four peaks. But which one? He wasn’t sure yet.

Chewing on the chin strap of his helmet to help him concentrate, the officer reached into his trouser pocket for his compass, and with the aid of a forked stick, which he skilfully adapted for use as dividers, he was able to fill in much of the missing information with a fair degree of accuracy.

A few clever trigonometrical calculations later and he was able to confirm that Basil’s suspicions were in fact correct. They were not on the plateau, as he had at first assumed. Instead, they were on top of Goat Fell, the highest peak in the Gouldong range, and the only way ahead was down!

With their position confirmed, and his curiosity satisfied, Sherlock casually folded the map and tucked it neatly into the side pocket of Herbert’s lapsack where it belonged.

Basil shook his head in disbelief as he witnessed the Constable’s smooth execution of what he considered to be an impossible exercise.

All the while, the brothers had been relaxing on the soft moss. They were drinking tea and soaking up the warm sun, but both were becoming restless. There was work to be done and they knew that soon, they must move on to the next stage of their journey. Basil too was anxious. He was concerned at the valuable time they had lost during Sherlock’s recovery.

He took his woodwatch from beneath his shirt. It was the first time he had checked it in ages and, when he opened the case to look at the dial, he was delighted to see that the little operating beetle inside was positively glowing with energy. Their brief exposure to the sun, had given them all a welcome boost and now it was time to move on.

Harry gathered up the brewing equipment, while Basil and Herbert dismantled the bivouac and generally tidied up the site. Sherlock, finally finished with his calculations regarding the route ahead, took his compass from his trouser pocket, held it up facing due north, and with one last look at the sunlit sky, he slung his lapsack over his shoulder and led the way down the rugged mountain side.