The colonists are waiting for them, as promised, on the beach at Port Madryn. Silas sees their smoke as soon as they sail into the circular bay past the Península Valdés. There are several fires, a collection of irregular dark shapes on the pale sand, and when they get closer, he hears them shouting and calling. The old Denby drops anchor where the Mimosa creaked two years ago. Everything looks the same. They row ashore and the colonists stream out to greet them, exclaiming at the sight of Edwyn.
Myfanwy’s face is a miniature of her mother’s. She holds up her arms to be picked up, first by Silas, then by Jacob.
Megan quickly kisses him. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she says, curtly, ‘don’t you dare go again.’
They are using the caves in the cliffs for shelter, and even though it is cold and wet, at least it is out of most of the wind and the rain. Some of the women and children have slept there while others have sheltered as best they can in crude huts, assembled from what remains from two years before.
Soon they are once more sitting by the fire on the beach roasting pieces of meat. It is already dusk. Annie Williams’ baby grumbles in her arms and as she rocks him back to sleep she looks at the Denby. ‘When are the other ships coming?’ she asks, ‘because we won’t all fit on that.’
The mumbling of voices stops. Everyone looks expectantly at Edwyn.
‘There will be no other ships,’ Caradoc says, ‘we’re going to stay in Chubut. It is decided.’
Silas hangs his head. There is a short shocked silence.
‘You have spoken for all of us?’ Mary asks incredulously, ‘what gives you the right to do that?’
‘All the representatives were in agreement,’ Caradoc says coldly.
‘All of them?’
When he nods, she turns open-mouthed to Silas and says quietly, ‘And you too, Silas? I thought we could depend on you.’
Silas shakes his head. He can’t speak. He can’t explain. He looks at Edwyn with narrowed eyes and the man merely nods back.
‘Of course you can go somewhere else if you choose,’ Edwyn tells Mary, ‘anywhere you like.’
Mary looks at him and snorts.
‘But I’m afraid you will not get any help from the Argentine government if you do,’ he adds.
For a few minutes the colonists are silent.
‘But we’ve slaughtered our animals!’ John says suddenly.
The man rarely speaks in public and it is startling to hear his voice. It is as if it wakes the people around him, and several of them start shouting out complaints.
‘And set light to our houses!’
‘And traipsed miles over the desert with the children.’
‘And how are we going to get back there again, anyway?’ Joseph Jones blurts out.
Edwyn blinks. Silas notices that the man’s fingertips are trembling. He turns to Selwyn. ‘Is all this true?’
Selwyn nods and Annie slips her arm around his shoulder. ‘It wasn’t his idea,’ she says, ‘everyone decided together.’
Edwyn sighs and shuts his eyes. He brings his fingertips together and rests his chin on his forefingers, and his head sways slightly. ‘There is a solution,’ he murmurs. ‘All is not lost.’
They wait a few moments but the Meistr says nothing else.
‘I’m sure the Chiquichan will lend us a few horses, if we ask them,’ says Caradoc quickly.
‘Yes, I’m sure they will, if we can find a way of sending word.’
But Edwyn doesn’t seem to be listening. His eyes are shut and he is sitting motionlessly by the fire. The people around him start to murmur, but Jacob holds up his hands to quieten them.
‘But we can’t go back to Chubut now,’ Mary says, taking no notice. ‘I can’t understand how this has happened. We were all agreed to go and start again in Santa Fe.’
‘We’ve been tricked,’ Silas says, looking at Edwyn. He speaks as though someone has him by the throat.
Everyone is silent, looking slowly from Silas to Edwyn and back again.
‘We could have gone to Santa Fe, we could have gone anywhere we like, but somehow this man has stopped it.’
Everyone waits, but Edwyn doesn’t stir. His eyes are still shut; his body still immobile, but underneath his beard his mouth is beginning to move. There are small flashes of white as his teeth shine through. Then, suddenly, he opens his eyes and rises to his feet. He goes to stand where the fire lights his face and smiles at them all.
‘My most beloved brothers and sisters, how very grateful I am to you. How you have greeted me so warmly! I have to confess I was a little apprehensive after all that had happened, but when I saw you all… when I saw that your spirit wasn’t broken, despite everything… how very glad it made me feel – that I knew you all. That you were my people. How very proud! My people, I would tell Dr Rawson, again and again. I know them. They will not give up. They work hard. They have faith. They are stubborn and are not afraid of a little adversity.
‘Ah, my valiant friends, I can do nothing more than admire you all. The way you have learnt from the Indians! The way you have co-operated. It is unheard of. Unique.’
Everyone is quiet now. Several are smiling almost as broadly. Silas sinks back onto his heels and groans. The man has so many tricks.
‘It has been hard everywhere, a strange unusual time of drought and everyone has been suffering – but Dr Rawson says that none have coped as well as the Welsh. He was talking of sending someone down to Patagonia to learn from you. You can’t give up now. Today is the twenty-eighth of July 1867, brodyr a chwiorydd. Two years to the day since we landed here. As Dr Rawson remarked, it takes a special people to make a desert bloom. And the Welsh are those people!’
‘Amen, brodyr!’
Several people cheer.
‘Are we going to do it? Are we going to work together and show the Argentines what we can do?’
‘Yes!’ Several of the men are standing now, clapping and cheering. Silas looks at Megan, and even she is smiling. Silas shifts on his haunches, and goes to stand, but a hand clamps down on his shoulder. Mary. She shakes her head at him. ‘Not now,’ she mouths.
Silas looks around him. The only eyes that meet his own are Selwyn’s, Mary’s and Megan’s. His wife’s smile slides from her mouth then she reaches out, tries to touch him on the arm, but he walks away up the beach. All lies. He wraps his jacket around him and shivers in the wind. The wind – it is needling his eyes with dust and sucking away moisture from his throat. He swallows but the hurt in his throat will not go. That man has destroyed everything. He reaches one of the dilapidated sheds and beats at the walls with both fists. He cannot stay here. He will take Megan and Myfanwy and whoever else who wants to come with him and walk across the desert up to Patagones if he has to, and if no one will leave with him he will go on his own.
‘Dadda?’ A small hand reaches into his own. She has run after him. He reaches down and picks her up and sobs into the soft cushion of her hair.