Greener Than You Think Part 46

_Still later_: F finally picked a spot she considered suitable--the remains of a small harbor--and we anch.o.r.ed. I must say she was overfussy--one cove is pretty much the same as another these days.

Possibly she was so choosy in order to heighten her importance.

Repet.i.tion of the involved etiquette of inspecting the intended victim and turning on the sprays; only this time the suppressed excitement antic.i.p.ating possible success made even the preliminaries interesting.

Miss Francis and her a.s.sistants retired for a mysterious conference immediately after the application and I stayed up late talking with the captain till he was called away by some duty. It is now nearly two A M--in a few hours we shall know.

_September 13_: Horribly shaken this morning to find the Gra.s.s unaffected. Even wondered for a moment if it were conceivable that F would never find the right compound--that nothing could hurt the Gra.s.s.

Had I been illadvised in not going more seriously into Burlet's vertical cities?

F very phlegmatic about it. Says another twelve hours of observation may be of value. She and A rowed ash.o.r.e over the runners trailing in the water and with great difficulty succeeded in hacking off a few runners of the sprayed Gra.s.s. I thought her undertaking this hazard an absurd piece of bravado--she might just as well have sent someone else.

Disregarding her rudeness in not inviting me, I accompanied her unasked to her laboratory-cabin. She laid the stolons on an enamelsurfaced table and busied herself with some apparatus. I could not take my eyes from these segments of the Gra.s.s. They lay on the table, not specimens of vegetation, but stunned creatures ready to spring to vigorous and vengeful life when they recovered. It was impossible not to pick one up and run it through my fingers, feeling again the soft, electric touch.

Miss Francis' preparations were interminable. If she follows such an elaborate ritual for the mere checking of an unsuccessful experiment no wonder she is taking years to get anywhere. My attention wandered and I started to leave the cabin when I noticed my hand still held one of the specimens.

It was withered and dry.

_100._ _September 17_: The enthusiasm greeting the discovery that F's reagent mortally affected the Gra.s.s was only tempered by the dampening thought that its action had been incomplete. What good was the lethal compound if its work were final only when the sprayed parts were severed?

F seemed to think it was a great deal of good. Her manner toward me, boisterous and quite out of keeping with our respective positions and s.e.xes, could almost be called friendly. During the return to Southampton she constantly clapped me on the back and shouted, "It's over, Weener; it's all over now."

"But it isnt over," I protested. "Your spray hadnt the slightest direct effect on the Gra.s.s."

"Oh, that. That's nothing. A mere impediment. A matter of time only."

"Time only! Good G.o.d, do you realize the Gra.s.s is halfway through Ireland? That we are surrounded now on four sides?"

"A lastminute rescue is quite in the best tradition. Don't disturb yourself; you will live to gloat over the deaths of better men."

I urged the PM to be cautious about overoptimism in giving out the news.

He nodded his head solemnly in agreement, but he evidently couldnt communicate whatever wisdom he possessed to the BBC announcer, for he, in b.u.t.ter voice, spoke as though Miss Francis had actually destroyed a great section of the weed upon the French coast. There were celebrations in the streets of London and a vast crowd visited the cenotaph and sang _Rule Britannia_.

_September 18_: Hoping to find F in a calmer mood, I asked her today just how long she meant by "a matter of time"? She shrugged it off. "Not more than four or five months," she said blithely.

"In a month at most the Gra.s.s will be in Britain."

"Let it come," she responded callously. "We shall take the _Sisyphus_ and conclude our work there."

"But millions will die in the meantime," I protested.

She turned on me with what I can only describe as tigrish ferocity. "Did you think of the millions you condemned to death when you refused to sell concentrates to the Asiatic refugees?"

"How could I sell to people who couldnt buy?"

"And the millions who died because you refused them employment?"

"Am I responsible for those too shiftless to fend for themselves?"

"'Am I my brother's keeper?' If fifty million Englishmen die because I cannot hasten the process of trial and error, the guilt is mine and I admit it. I do not seek to exculpate myself by pointing a finger at you or by silly and pompous evasions of my responsibility. If the Gra.s.s comes before I am ready, the fault is mine. In the meantime, while one creature remains alive, even if his initials be A W, I shall seek to preserve him. As long as there is a foothold on land I shall try on land; and when that fails we shall board the _Sisyphus_ and finish our work there, somewhere in the Atlantic."

"You mean you definitely abandon hope of perfecting your compound before England goes?"

"I abandon nothing," she replied. "I think it's quite possible I'll finish in time to save England, but I can't afford to do anything but look forward to the worst. And that is that we'll be driven to the sea."

I was appalled by the picture her words elicited: a few ships containing the survivors; a world covered with the Gra.s.s.

"And when success is attained we shall fight our way back inch by inch."

But this piece of bombast didnt hearten me. I had no desire to fight our way back inch by inch; I wanted at least a fragment of civilization salvaged.

_September 19_: F has not been the only one to think of the high seas as a final refuge. The London office has been literally besieged by men of wealth eager to pay any price to charter one of our ships. I have given orders to grant no more charters for the present.

_September 20_: The enthusiasm is subsiding and people are beginning to ask how long it will be before they can expect the reconquest of the Continent to begin. BBC spoke cautiously about "perfection" of the compound for the first time, opening the way to the implication that it doesnt work as yet. Added quite a bit to my ma.n.u.script.

_September 21_: Mrs H, in very dignified mood, approached me; said she heard I had made plans to leave England in case the Gra.s.s threatened.

She asked nothing for herself, she said, being quite content to accept whatever fate Providence had in store for her, but, would I take her daughter and family along on the _Sisyphus_? They would be quite useful, she added lamely.

I said I would give the matter my attention, but a.s.sured her there was no immediate danger.

_September 22_: Gra.s.s on the Isle of Man.

_September 23_: Ordered stocking of the _Sisyphus_ with as much concentrates as she can carry. The supply will be ample for a full crew, F's staff and myself for at least six months.

_September 24_: Ive known for years that F is insane, but her latest phase is so fantastic and preposterous I can hardly credit it. She demands flatly the _Sisyphus_ take along at least fifty "nubile females in order to restock the world after its reconquest." After catching my breath I argued with her. The prospect of England's loss was by no means certain yet.

"Good. We'll give the girls a seavoyage and land them back safe and sound."

"We have enough supplies for six months; if we take along these superfluous pa.s.sengers our time will be cut to less than three."

Her answer was a brutal piece of blackmail. "No women, no go."

If F were a young man instead of an elderly woman I could understand this aberration better.

_September 25_: It seems Mrs H's grandchildren are all girls between twelve and eighteen, which leaves the problem of fulfilling F's ultimatum to finding fortyseven others. I have delegated the selection to Mrs H.

_September 26_: Gra.s.s on Skye for the second time. This invasion was not repulsed.

_September 27_: The cyclone fans have been set up from Moray Firth to the Firth of Lorne. I am in two minds about asking the Tharios to join us.

The bill authorizing the construction of a vertical city at Stonehenge pa.s.sed Commons.

_September 28_: Gra.s.s reported near Aberdeen. Panic in Scotland. No more train service.

_September 29_: Day of fasting, humiliation and prayer proclaimed by the Archbishop of Canterbury. Gra.s.s south of the Dee. All mines shut down.

_September 30_: Every seaworthy vessel, and many not seaworthy, now under charter. I have ordered all remaining stores of concentrates loaded on our own hulls, to be manned by skeleton crews. They will stand by the _Sisyphus_ on her voyage. Lack of railway transportation making things difficult.

_October 1_: They have actually broken ground at Stonehenge for Burlet's fantastic city.