journey to the outer islands - XOXO

‘What on earth is the good of you, man, when you bottle this knowledge up and don’t use it for the good of others?! All my life, I have sought to instruct and inform on the appropriate way of doing things. Rogers, now is the appropriate time to put that brake on. Now is the time, Rogers, and even one so servile and submissive as yourself should see that, in truth, you perhaps need not even ask me whether you are allowed to put the brake on, when it will quite surely save our lives, or at least – for we may become compressed into cardboard-thin wall-hangings in our own shape and appearance suitable only for scientific investigation – save a rather beautiful piece of modernist architecture designed especially by Mies van der Rohe for the Lax family, and worth millions.’

We sat in aggrieved silence as he mulled this outburst.

‘So may I, Ma’am?’ he finally asked.

‘May you what?’ I harrumphed.

‘May I apply the brake, Ma’am?’

‘Gammon! Confound the man. Yes, please, if you would be so kind Rogers, apply the brake.’

He did so, and we stopped at the glass door of Lax Lodgings in precisely the nick of time.

Overcome with relief at seeing what a hideous fate we had been spared from of, I did something I must admit I was rather not expecting. I fell on Old Rogers, my man who ‘does’, weeping. ‘Rogers,’ I cried. ‘Rogers.’

‘Ma’am,’ he responded, as is his wont, usually.

‘Rogers,’ I said. ‘We’re safe.’

‘Don’t thank me,’ he said. ‘I simply asked moiself, what would Jesus do? And of course, Jesus would ask your permission to apply the brake, Ma’am.’

‘Yes!’ I laughed, ‘Yes, Rogers, I do believe he would!’ I patted him fondly on the cheek, as though he were a person of my own standing, an action which I think surprised both him, me and you, my reader, who knows that in general, I am prone only to appropriate behaviour, rather than the inappropriate behaviour that this action signified. I gathered my wits, my Wad, and my knitting and stepped down from the carriage.

‘Rogers,’ I now stated, firmly and back in my familiar stentorianness, ‘I am glad we arrived here in good time. Well done, man. Please attend to unpacking Carlo, and then we will inspect the kelp processing works, if you please.’

journey to the outer islands - VIIIIII

‘Rogers!’ I snapped. ‘I cannot believe that you knew there was a brake on this vehicle all this time and you did not mention it until we are seconds, literally seconds, from death!'

journey to the outer islands - VIIIII

We continued to approach the house rapidly. The continuation of this rapid approach went on, and extended to the fullest degree, as it was ongoing. The speed of the coach was unrelenting, and suspensefully, it seemed – because this was, in fact, what was happening – that the distance between our noble vessel and our destination was decreasing very fast. The moment of impact seemed to be looming, as though, having now gone on for what seem’d like a long time, was in fact a short one, making one hope to abbreviate words like ‘seemed’ in the hope of stealing a little, just a little, more time before the moment of collision with a large, fragile house which was sure to collapse on us and obliterate us with large, jagged shards when we did, in fact, hit it.

I looked at Old Rogers, and he looked at me. Then we looked at Lax Lodgings, becoming increasingly larger in our field of vision as we hurtled unwittingly towards it. It seemed like a moment for action of any type, though what?

‘Keep your legs and arms from straggling, Rogers,’ I cautioned.

‘Yes’m,’ he said, and I noted with admiration that he had abbreviated the usual form of respectful address, ‘Ma’am’, to a simple appendage on his concurrence. ‘I mean, “Yes’m, Ma’am.”’

There was silence as we observed the continuing increase in possibility that we would in seconds be slaughtered by this unfortunate chain of events. The silence was intruded on only by the sound of the rampant wheels of the carriage, the noise made by the appalling lack of an axle-tree, and the screaming of a rather jumpy and stressed-out donkey.

‘Permission, Ma’am,’ said Rogers.

‘Permission what, Rogers?’ I snapped.

‘Permission to slightly straggle, Ma’am’ he responded.

‘How are you proposing to do that, man?’ I asked. ‘What is your plan?’

‘Permission to straggle moi arm to the extent of putting that brake on,’ he murmured.

journey to the outer islands - VIIII

He turned and addressed me. ‘I can see Lax Lodgings from ‘ere, Ma’am. What a lovely building – even I know that, and I’ve only seen three. Tell me ma’am, what material is it constructed of?’

‘The building is entirely made from glass, Rogers,’ I uttered. ‘As you may appreciate, there is very little wood in these islands, and in earlier times the only source of timber for house construction here was a shipwreck. The roofs and doors of many a home here depend on the flotsam of the ocean.

‘Seen from inside, one notices all sorts of extraordinary devices to supply couplers, and old oars, parts of boats and parts of masts are in common use. The thatch is of great thickness, and in view of winter storms is secured by old fishing nets, by means of which the roof is literally tied to the chimney, and pegged down to the projecting wall all around the house. Inside, the houses are warm and comfortable, the system of double walls, if somewhat clumsy, being probably warmer than that of mortar and hewn stones, in a climate which, though not cold, is as boisterous and humid as one might expect....’

‘I’m sorry to interrupt, Ma’am, but…’

‘What is it, Rogers? I wish you’d pay more attention, I thought we were making a little progress in terms of you learning something, anything.’

‘Moi only concern, ma’am, is that we are approaching a large glass house at a very convincingly acceleratin’ speed, in a horseless coach what is turned somewhat into a projectile by the extreme weight of a donkey placed atop it laid down with all your fine cases and other items of baggage, includin’ that kelp you picked up down at the docks and the lead you are carryin’ for the purpose of me relinin’ the edges of the windows in an extremely large glass house which we are approaching at a very convincingly acceleratin’ speed, in a horseless coach what is turned somewhat…’

‘Oh, Rogers,’ I quoth. ‘I wonder if this is the end?’

journey to the outer islands - VIII

‘Are you, Rogers?’ I smiled, breaking a tooth in the process. ‘Are you, really? And how is that at all possible, as you are back here with me?’

‘Well, Ma’am, it’s simple,’ he laughed. ‘Oi told them horses where to go, and set them to it, and off we went, and soon we’ll be there, all because of me and my very good sense of doing things. Oi asked meself, as you so often told me to, “what would Jesus do?” and answer came there to me, from me own ‘ead, “he would do whatever he felt like, as ‘e is Jesus, and has magic powers that meant nothing could go wrong and ‘e would not die, so at the end of the day it’s all good.’

‘Bravo, Rogers, bravo!’ I smiled, showing some of my better dentures. ‘You’ve come along marvellously.’

‘We really are speeding up,’ he said, worried at the same time he was pleased for being so correct. ‘I… Oi think we are on an incline heading towards the Lax Lodgings. We are sticking to… yes, we are sticking to the path, but we are building up speed at an alarmin’ rate, ma’am. Alarmin’. If Jesus weren’t protectin’ us.’

journey to the outer islands - VII

‘Are we speeding up, Ma’am?’ enquired Rogers, inquisitively. I realised my words were having an effect on him, as indeed they do on all who I address, and that the intimate machinations and rules of wider society were coming alive for this simple soul who, until recently, had merely been a kind of tree with a head and arms around the Lax property.

‘Never jump from a rapidly-moving vehicle,’ I went on, ‘unless (supposing it impossible to slip down behind) you see a precipice in front, in which case any risk of personal injury is preferable to remaining still.’

‘Oi’m sure we’re gaining speed, Ma’am’, Rogers insisted, insistingly. ‘And the closer things are going faster than the things further away – now, that’s a concern.’ He sat back and tapped on his pipe – he’d started smoking dried kelp since we came to the Outer Islands and pronounced it far superior to peat moss, peat and Emprote – content that I would look after him, as indeed I always had, though admittedly while subjecting him to appalling tortures purely for my own amusement or financial gain.

‘The worst accidents to coaches, Old Rogers,’ I continued, ‘arise from broke axle-trees, and wheels coming off on the road. The axle-tree should, therefore, be very carefully examined every time it is fresh greased.’

‘Exmained it moiself this mornin’, a contented Rogers mused, ‘huge – I mean huge – split up the middle, which Oi greased rather noicely, even if Oi do say so mesel’. Are those the horses what was pullin’ us?’ He pointed at a couple of drays who appeared to be running off in another direction from our own carriage.

‘Can’t be, Rogers,’ I foofed. ‘They’re pulling us now, and very swiftly if I may say so, towards our digs. Now, that axle tree should be removed every ten days, a string being put through the bolt that receives the linch-pin, to hang it up and cleanse it; the person doing this should then strike it with a hammer, when, if uncracked and sound, it will ring like a bell.’

‘So it did, Ma’am’ Rogers agreed complacently. ‘Then it shattered into little bits, so I fashioned a new one from wax out me ear.’

‘The coachman should then see that it is properly screwed on,’ I went on.

‘Bugger never showed up!’ laughed the old Rogered one. ‘Oi’m driving the coach in ‘is absence.’

journey to the outer islands - VI and a green1/2

Once we arrived at the dock, we were conveyed via coach to the Lax Lodgings. Rocking from side to side, travelling up a mountain path that zig-zagged ludicrously and meaninglessly, I fell to wondering what would happen if the coach went out of control. Of course, being me, I didn’t so much fall to wondering, as fall to knowing. I decided then and there I’d mention it to Old Rogers, who of course had never been in a wheeled vehicle before, aside from the time we accidentally gave him a funeral (and then it was just a bicycle). ‘Rogers,’ I began.

He turned to me, his eyes alight. ‘Ma’am?’ he enquired.

‘Should the horses run off in defiance of all restraint while you’re in this coach, sit perfectly still and, in anticipation of the possible overturn, keep your legs and arms from straggling.’

‘Like this?’ he said, straggling his legs and arms with vivacity.

‘Exactly like that, only the opposite,’ I instructed.

‘Like this?’ now, he was entirely unstraggled at all limbs.

‘Yes, that’s right Rogers, only I think normally you say ‘loike’ for ‘like’ and I can’t imagine what has made you drop your usual speaking manner. If this is a repeat of the coffee house incident I’ll…

‘Oi’m sorry, ma’am,’ he apologised sorriously. ‘Oi’m so unused to this strange land, Oi keep forgettin’ I’m… Oi’m just a crofter. Such a simple crofter, in fact, Oi’ve forgotten what a crofter is, and whether in fact I am one.’

‘”Oi”, Rogers, “Oi,”’ I corrected him.

‘Oi Oi Oi’, he agreed, smiling impishly and giving two thumbs up. I noticed one of his thumbs had a toadstool on it which I flicked off. It flew out of the carriage window and bounced off a canyon rim. ‘Oi was savin’ that!’ Rogers whinged. ‘That was my supper!’ I ignored the fact that he was becoming slightly less subserviant. In fact, I rather liked it.

‘Sit easily and compactly so that, when upset, you will gently roll over in the direction you are thrown,’ I went on. ‘Ladies, in these circumstances, scream wildly, and throw their arms out of the windows, thus exposing themselves to the chance of broken limbs. If run away with in a gig, either sit still collectedly – you know how to do that, don’t you Rogers? – or drop out at the back, so as to fall on your hands.’