The Penal Colony Read Online Free

to catch the wild goats on
the island, to collect seabirds and eggs, and to salvage anything
useful that gets washed up on the beach. We run educational
classes. Some people attend the church. But whether they are
religious or not, everyone here tries to make the best of it.” He
paused; he seemed to have reached the end of his set speech, for
such, Routledge had guessed, it was.
    Routledge was completely nonplussed. The idea
of the convicts attending church was so far removed from the
stories he had heard that he began to doubt the validity of any of
his preconceptions.
    Appleton now resumed talking. “We also liaise
with the Prison Service. Not because we wish to have any truck with
them, but because they provide things that are useful to us. It is
part of my duty, for example, to interview new arrivals and keep a
ledger. If a body is found we are asked to identify it and let the
Prison Service know. To help us with this, they send particulars
with each prisoner.” He tapped a green pencil on the papers. “These
particulars have told us something about you, Mr Anthony John
Routledge, but we don’t take too much notice of that. They are
mainland particulars, compiled by mainland men. Our opinion of you
is and will be, of necessity, based on different criteria
altogether. As Mr Mitchell has rightly said, everyone here tries to
make the best of it. In this we are aided by each other. We have
nothing else but that. Before we admit a man to our midst,
therefore, we must be reasonably certain of his character and his
propensities. Much as we would like to extend a hand to those
outside the Community, the exigencies of survival on Sert deny us
that pleasure.” Appleton sat back, elbows on the arms of his chair,
holding his pencil lightly at each end. “Mr Stamper, will you go
on?”
    Stamper, a round-shouldered man of forty-five
or fifty with spectacles, blue jowls and wet, red lips, bore a
resemblance to an unpopular physics master who had taught at
Routledge’s old school. His voice, though, grating and harsh, was
quite different.
    “The rules of the Community are these. You
will work as directed by the Father. You will not intentionally
injure any member of the Community or damage Community property.
You will not lie, steal, cheat, or engage in deviant sexual
practices. As there are no women here, that means you are allowed
to do nothing to anyone or anything but yourself. Do you understand
the rules?”
    Routledge was slowly becoming convinced that
he was after all dreaming; or had gone mad. “Who … who is the
Father?” he said, looking at Appleton.
    “All in good time,” Appleton said.
    “The advantages of life in the Community are
self-evident,” Stamper continued, “as you will doubtless discover.
The greatest, perhaps, is the opportunity to be a man.”
    Appleton broke in. “One of the Father’s
sayings. You will understand it in due course.”
    “Breach of the rules is punished by
expulsion,” Stamper said, and folded his arms, as if to indicate
both the finality of his utterance and the end of his speech.
    “Don’t get the idea that we are Communists
here,” Appleton said, smiling faintly. “The Father is in control of
the Village. Absolute control. It is he who decides who stays in
and who stays out. The Father has examined your papers, and indeed
inspected you when you arrived. He has authorized me to make this
offer and, within the limits decided by him, to set the terms.”
    Routledge remained silent.
    “Every man in the Community must earn the
right to be here. He must demonstrate that he can look after
himself and will not be a burden on the others. The way he does
this is to remain outside the Community for a specified period of
time. The standard period in July is ten days, more if we have
doubts about him, fewer if we do not. The Father also recognizes
that a man’s age and former mode of life play a part in determining
how long he can survive alone. You had a fairly sedentary sort