The Querulous Effect

by Arkay Jones

  “So if you can sort them out, why do you want to see Cosmo Querulous again so urgently?” asked Tim.

  “Because I know he wasn’t just interested in colours. Like me he was certainly interested in luminescence. But he was keen also to see if he could transfer other features from one plant to another or from one insect or even animal to another. As soon as you add those extra factors into your experiments everything becomes more unstable and uncertain. If not properly controlled, it could upset the whole natural balance of lots of species. If you start tinkering with nature, without the utmost care, it could lead to an ecological disaster. I’m very worried about what he might do next. And I feel I’m to blame for letting him storm off before we’d finished our research. He wasn’t a bad fellow. Maybe I was just too wrapped up in my own work.”

  Tim listened intently to the Prof. He had never seen him look so worried before. “But what could you have done?” he said.

  “I should have been more understanding. He was probably as frustrated with me as I was with him. At the least I should have tried to keep in touch with him when he left. Tried to track him down earlier,” said the Prof. “I should have known he’d continue his experiments in his usual impatient way, without my guidance.” The Prof reflected pensively for a moment but then looked up and said more positively, “But that’s in the past. What’s done is done. The important thing now is that we track him down. And quickly!”

  After this dramatic statement it was not long before the Prof left the table to go back into his laboratory, having arranged to see everyone the next morning to gather together the equipment for their next visit to Blusterton’s factory.

  After his departure the children speculated on where Dr Querulous might be. Jay, whose image of the missing scientist had been formed solely on the basis of the Prof’s worrying description, wondered if he might be in some hideaway in the Amazonian jungle, injecting distilled snake-venom into creeping jungle vines or some such strange activity. Tim and Ella, who actually knew Cosmo from their earlier holiday visits and, despite the professor’s current strong views, had rather liked him, thought he would be somewhere much less exotic. Perhaps back at the university in Germany where he and the Prof had first met or working in the butterfly farm they had visited with him and the Prof at Upper Dampney. But despite the difference of views, all three agreed that tracking him down might prove an exciting change from the daily watering and gardening. Equally, they were agreed that if Mr. Knibbs, could help with information, then a return visit to the factory, which they had been rather dreading, might not be as forbidding as they had initially feared. So when the discussions finally ended and they were ready to make their way up to bed, they were in a more cheerful frame of mind.

  The next day, after the children had finished their morning chores in the garden, they helped the Prof gather together all the equipment they would need for the visit to Blusterton’s. There were several large bottles of pink liquid, several extra-large ones of pale blue liquid, four Bunsen burners, two retort stands, a coil of rubber hose, various lengths of glass piping, six empty distilling jars and a contraption, which the Prof called an electro-granulator, which was full of coils and coloured wires and stood almost as tall as Ella. Then the professor remembered he would need his microscope and his centrifugal mixer. Finally, they placed in a pile next to the scientific equipment, their spare Wellington boots and waterproof cagoules.

  “That’s just about it, I think,” said the professor as he popped two cases of microscope slides on top of the enormous pile of gear stacked neatly in the middle of the stable yard.

  “The only thing is…” Tim observed, then hesitated.

  “Go on,” said the Prof, “what have I forgotten?”

  “The only thing is,” repeated Tim, “how are you going to get this lot to the factory, together with the three of us, in your little sports car?”

  “Ah, yes,” said the Prof. “A good point. I thought of everything but I didn’t think of that.”

  “So, in a way,” Tim reflected, “you didn’t really think of everything.”

  “Another good point,” responded the Prof, rather irascibly, “but not, I am bound to say, a very helpful one. Has anyone got any helpful ideas that might address Tim’s point?”

  Everyone looked at one another, then down at their feet and then back again at each other.

  “I suppose,” said Jay, a little nervously, “there’s Toby. He’s pretty strong.”

  Tim was about to laugh at this suggestion, wondering how Toby could carry such a pile, but he remembered that he had made a mistake last time he had laughed at Jay’s suggestion in the study. So he just smiled, nodded sagely, said, “Ah yes, Toby” and waited to see what would become of Jay’s suggestion.

  A moment later he was glad he had not mocked Jay’s idea for Ella burst out. “Of course, the caravan. Toby could pull the caravan.” At that, both the Prof and, to give him his due, Tim, enthusiastically exclaimed in agreement.

  “Good thinking, Ella. Let’s get it out and see,” said the Prof. He led the way to the old barn where Toby was stabled at night. They pulled open the large barn doors and the sunlight poured in. Jay, following behind the others, peered through the sun-beams which streamed towards the back of the barn, full of straw dust swirling in the light and illuminating the roof-beams from which hung a large tarpaulin sheet. Tim and the Prof pulled aside the tarpaulin to reveal an old gypsy caravan.

  Ella turned to Jay. “Sometimes we take the caravan out in the summer to the meadow for a picnic. We even camped out in it once.”

  The three children scrambled through the small swing-doors into the caravan. It smelled a bit fusty and one of the cupboard doors was broken but there was plenty of room and the bench seats inside were pretty comfortable for travelling. Whilst they looked around the inside, the Prof was examining the chassis and wheels. When they clambered out again, the Prof beamed with satisfaction. “Well done. A capital suggestion. It’s certainly road-worthy and we can easily fit everything inside. We’ll load it up this afternoon, get an early night tonight and set off with Toby first thing tomorrow morning.”

  He beamed again. “A mobile laboratory. Just the job. Just the perfect job!”

  CHAPTER 14

  Early the next morning, a bright green and red gypsy caravan, pulled by a handsome, if aging, Shire horse, rumbled into the car park of Blusterton International Foods. Ella was steering carefully, gently adjusting the reins as needed and giving out her commands to Toby with clear authority. Sitting alongside her was an ageing and, perhaps, not so handsome professor.

  With a clatter of hooves and a clinking of glass jars, the caravan was carefully manoeuvred into the vacant space between Mr. Knibbs’ brand new Jaguar XPS and his deputy’s, not very new, Ford ‘Caramba.’

  Ella and the Prof jumped down from the driving seat at the front of the caravan. Tim and Jay emerged from the doors at the rear, quite exhausted from their task of keeping all the glass bottles and flasks safe as the caravan had lumbered its way along the country road to the factory. A few curious and startled faces peered out from the factory windows at the colourful new arrival. Amongst them was the factory receptionist. She anxiously watched the strange scientist and his motley team of young helpers dismount from their equally strange mode of transport and was relieved to see that on this occasion she would not have to spend the morning with a wet and rather cross little white dog tied to her desk.

  High above her, the ruddy face of Mr. Knibbs peered out from a window on the top floor. His immediate concern had been the safety of his brand new car as the caravan rumbled towards it and he had watched, also with relief, as Ella had competently brought her charge safely to rest. However, the sight of the professor’s unusual choice of transport had renewed the concerns that had been nagging away at Mr. Knibbs as to whether he had made a terrible mistake in inviting the professor back at all. Since their last encounter, he had taken the precaution of speaking to an old friend at Cambridge Unive
rsity to check up on the professor’s qualifications. He had also looked him up in various scientific publications. The outcome of his enquiries was an assurance that Professor Ricardo was, indeed, a world-renowned scholar and that, whilst he was, to some minds, “a little eccentric,” he was undoubtedly an expert in his field and a man to be trusted.

  Mr. Knibbs, watching the professor lean against the caravan to put on his Wellingtons, could not help thinking that the phrase, “a little eccentric,” was something of an understatement. Nevertheless, having come so far and having tried other ways to solve the factory’s problems, he felt that he had no choice but to trust in the professor’s expertise. So, with help from all the factory staff, Professor Ricardo assembled his equipment and set to work.

  Chemical converters, cleansers, antidotes and neutralizers were applied in quantity from the professor’s supply to the range of processes carried out in the factory. Everyone worked to the professor’s very strict directions, as he supervised every detail with great energy. No machinery or assembly area escaped his closest attention. The work proceeded hour after hour throughout the whole day. The children helped where they could. They fetched equipment from the caravan when needed, they helped take samples for testing and they ran errands generally.

  Toby, meanwhile, had a wonderful day. The factory staff made a great fuss of him and offered him apples at lunchtime. The factory gardener let him graze on the lawns and didn’t even complain when Toby ate some of the petunias in the hanging baskets and drank from the ornamental pond.

  Finally, by the early evening, the professor was satisfied that any vestiges of the contamination and problems left by Cosmo Querulous had been totally eradicated. Having witnessed the thoroughness with which the professor, the children and all the factory staff under the professor’s direction had set about their tasks, Mr. Knibbs felt much reassured. Even his opinion of professors and research scientists in general had mellowed a little. After all the worries of the previous weeks, he was, at last, able to sigh a big sigh of relief and declare himself much happier about the future prospects at his factory. As he watched the gypsy caravan trundle slowly out of the car park that evening towards the setting sun, the drama of the moment quite overcame him. “Victory,” he declared expansively to his secretary, “has been snatched from the jaws of defeat!”

  The Prof, although completely satisfied with the day’s work, did not appear to share Mr. Knibbs’ renewed optimism. He sat hunched up, deep in thought, as Ella, beside him on the driving seat of the caravan, eased Toby gently and slowly along the road back to ‘The Cedars.’ The professor’s sombre mood had resulted from Mr. Knibbs’ report that he had been unable to find out any information as to Cosmo Querulous’ whereabouts. Mr. Knibbs had explained that had gained the firm impression that Cosmo was working on a special personal project for Chisholm P. Blusterton Jnr., owner of Blusterton International, but that it was so top secret that no-one was prepared – or dared – to talk about it. This left the Prof very frustrated. He had solved the problems left by Cosmo at the factory but the bigger problem of what Cosmo might do next still eluded him.

  The Prof’s pessimistic mood was not evident inside the caravan on the journey home. Great thumping sounds, followed by peals of laughter, emerged every time the caravan rolled round a bend and the boys were sent flying from their seats to catch the, now empty, jars and bottles as they joggled off the shelves. This invigorating exercise lasted all the journey until, at last, with another huge lurch, the caravan swung into the gateway of ‘The Cedars.’ Mr. Stiggles, hearing the clatter, ambled as quickly as he could down the drive to help the boys open the tall, wrought-iron gates. Toby plodded steadily up the drive and as everyone helped unharness him in the stable yard, Ella brought him two buckets of water and a well-deserved bucket of bran for supper.

  With Toby safely settled back in his stable, the children washed quickly and sat down to their own supper, which Mrs. Stiggles had laid out on the kitchen table. The Prof did not join them for the meal. Mrs. Stiggles had told him, when he arrived, that Tom Claythorne, an old friend, had telephoned earlier in the day with the message to ring him back urgently. The Prof had rung Tom back from his study and after a long conversation the Prof had disappeared for the rest of the evening into his laboratory.

  The importance of that message was only revealed to the children late the next morning. They had all slept on after their busy day at the factory. Despite the late start, the essential day’s chores had to be completed. Ella first fed the chickens and collected their eggs. Then she groomed Toby, giving him an extra rub down with liniment to make sure he was not too stiff after the previous day’s exertions. After the usual, and, by now, boring, watering duties, Jay helped Mr. Stiggles stretch nets over part of the vegetable garden. This action was necessary because Mr. Stiggles had been very annoyed to see that morning that rabbits from the meadow had got in and severely nibbled several of his lettuces. Chip, who fussed around Jay as he pulled the nets tight over the vegetables, was of the view that he could easily have sorted out the rabbit problem if anyone had thought to ask him.

  Whilst this work proceeded in the vegetable garden, Tim had been very carefully checking the bee-hives and had then taken a basket to see whether any fruit in the orchard was ready for picking. So it was almost noon when the children finally got together again as Jay and Ella joined Tim in the orchard.

  The three children were sitting on the grass under an apple tree, examining a beetle with Tim’s magnifying glass, when they saw the professor approaching from the house. He had a large book under one arm and waved excitedly with the other as he made his way towards them.

  “Guess what,” he said, breathlessly as he sprawled down on the grass beside them.

  “Progress at last! I think I have a pretty good idea where Cosmo Querulous might be.”

  The children all looked intently at the professor, waiting for him to reveal the information that had been the source of his obvious excitement.

  “If I’m right,” the Prof continued, “it’s certainly not an easy place to get to. No, indeed, not easy at all. But it’s a lead we must follow. And we must set off without delay. All four of us. You all did a great job at the factory and I need all the help you can give me. What do you say? Are you ready for another adventure?”

  The Prof looked at them, awaiting an answer. But the children were finding it hard to follow exactly where the Prof’s thoughts were taking them. In turn, they looked enquiringly at each other, then back at the professor. Finally, Tim broke the silence and spoke up for the three of them.

  “You bet we are ready! We’d love to come. But hadn’t you better tell us first exactly where it is that we are supposed to be going?”

  CHAPTER 15

  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 Se
a 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.