of the West Pole is 90ºW. Naturally it lies directly on the equator. It ought to have been easy to locate, for it stands exactly where it should, at the sunset’s point of absolute rest. But the diameter of the Pole is only that of the thickness of any line of latitude, and it is sunk into the sea, and sailors are often drunk. It persisted as a myth for long ages. But once it was found, it became obvious, and then the mystery was how it had eluded detection before. That is usually what happens with new things. Now storms always seemed to be blowing ships onto it and it was marked on every chart as a hazard. Without changing their routes at all, many vessels were wrecked there, and the act of its discovery was generally held responsible.
In time, its reputation mellowed, because ships grew harder and steel plate did not puncture so readily. Then the storms were no longer so frequent. Sailors began to steer for it deliberately. As a meeting place, it was ideal. The Galapagos lay a little to the west, yet the Pole had none of the disadvantages of conducting business on land. There were no brothels to start fights in. Before long, a thriving market came into being around the actual Pole. Ships would tether themselves to it with ropes. Then goods would be traded from deck to deck. Sometimes crews would just chat or sing together. The neutrality of the Pole was respected. Even the fleets of nations at war would refuse to engage in combat in the vicinity of that foolish but astounding length of wood.
For such was the material from which it had been created. The same was true of the other three inessential Poles. Whether they had grown there naturally, or were carved and planted by an unknown and forgotten intelligence, is an unanswerable question. The fact they were striped with red and white bands is cited as evidence for an artificial origin. But the world is strange and too many conclusions about its secrets are apt to be wrong. Even the objection that wood does not grow under water is a prejudice rather than a certain truth. It is wiser not to speculate. The East Pole at 90ºE in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Sumatra, and the Front at 0º in the armpit of Africa, and the Back at 180º near Kiribati, all on the equator of course, are identical to the one that was the West. Perhaps it will grow again.
When he was an old man, Caradoc Weasel decided to repay a visit to the site of his discovery. He also wished to purchase some fine wines, a plate painted with a picture of a winged cow and a replacement key for the front door of his house. He knew that the West Pole had become the biggest floating bazaar in the world. It was a place where almost anything, however unlikely, could be bought. He dug his life savings up from under the floorboards where he had been hiding them and set off on a ship. He was carried across the Atlantic Ocean and around Cape Horn, because this was a time before the Panama Canal was finished, and up along the Pacific coast of South America. When he reached the point of the Pole, he was astonished. There were no other ships in the area. The sea was empty all the way to the horizon.
True, he had not expected to see the actual Pole. Like its counterparts in the other oceans, the West Pole did not break the surface of the water. On a day without storms, when the sea was a smooth belly, the top of the Pole lay exactly level with the oceanic meniscus. It was neither higher nor lower than the surface by even so much as the breadth of a fish scale. Its flat top was part of the plane where liquid became air, a small but perfect circle at the intersection between ocean and atmosphere. This is why it had proved so difficult to discover. Only the hulls of ships knew, and they suffered for it. After it was established as a geographical feature, experienced eyes would look for the bent line of its shadow plunging into the depths and the infrequent glimmer of red and white.
Ships would tether themselves as close
In time, its reputation mellowed, because ships grew harder and steel plate did not puncture so readily. Then the storms were no longer so frequent. Sailors began to steer for it deliberately. As a meeting place, it was ideal. The Galapagos lay a little to the west, yet the Pole had none of the disadvantages of conducting business on land. There were no brothels to start fights in. Before long, a thriving market came into being around the actual Pole. Ships would tether themselves to it with ropes. Then goods would be traded from deck to deck. Sometimes crews would just chat or sing together. The neutrality of the Pole was respected. Even the fleets of nations at war would refuse to engage in combat in the vicinity of that foolish but astounding length of wood.
For such was the material from which it had been created. The same was true of the other three inessential Poles. Whether they had grown there naturally, or were carved and planted by an unknown and forgotten intelligence, is an unanswerable question. The fact they were striped with red and white bands is cited as evidence for an artificial origin. But the world is strange and too many conclusions about its secrets are apt to be wrong. Even the objection that wood does not grow under water is a prejudice rather than a certain truth. It is wiser not to speculate. The East Pole at 90ºE in the Indian Ocean off the coast of Sumatra, and the Front at 0º in the armpit of Africa, and the Back at 180º near Kiribati, all on the equator of course, are identical to the one that was the West. Perhaps it will grow again.
When he was an old man, Caradoc Weasel decided to repay a visit to the site of his discovery. He also wished to purchase some fine wines, a plate painted with a picture of a winged cow and a replacement key for the front door of his house. He knew that the West Pole had become the biggest floating bazaar in the world. It was a place where almost anything, however unlikely, could be bought. He dug his life savings up from under the floorboards where he had been hiding them and set off on a ship. He was carried across the Atlantic Ocean and around Cape Horn, because this was a time before the Panama Canal was finished, and up along the Pacific coast of South America. When he reached the point of the Pole, he was astonished. There were no other ships in the area. The sea was empty all the way to the horizon.
True, he had not expected to see the actual Pole. Like its counterparts in the other oceans, the West Pole did not break the surface of the water. On a day without storms, when the sea was a smooth belly, the top of the Pole lay exactly level with the oceanic meniscus. It was neither higher nor lower than the surface by even so much as the breadth of a fish scale. Its flat top was part of the plane where liquid became air, a small but perfect circle at the intersection between ocean and atmosphere. This is why it had proved so difficult to discover. Only the hulls of ships knew, and they suffered for it. After it was established as a geographical feature, experienced eyes would look for the bent line of its shadow plunging into the depths and the infrequent glimmer of red and white.
Ships would tether themselves as close
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