oard the _Sisyphus_ and finish our
work there, somewhere in the Atlantic."

"You mean you definitely abandon hope of perfecting your compound before
England goes?"

"I abandon nothing," she replied. "I think it's quite possible I'll
finish in time to save England, but I can't afford to do anything but
look forward to the worst. And that is that we'll be driven to the
sea."

I was appalled by the picture her words elicited: a few ships containing
the survivors; a world covered with the Grass.

"And when success is attained we shall fight our way back inch by inch."

But this piece of bombast didnt hearten me. I had no desire to fight our
way back inch by inch; I wanted at least a fragment of civilization
salvaged.

_September 19_: F has not been the only one to think of the high seas as
a final refuge. The London office has been literally besieged by men of
wealth eager to pay any price to charter one of our ships. I have given
orders to grant no more charters for the present.

_September 20_: The enthusiasm is subsiding and people are beginning to
ask how long it will be before they can expect the reconquest of the
Continent to begin. BBC spoke cautiously about "perfection" of the
compound for the first time, opening the way to the implication that it
doesnt work as yet. Added quite a bit to my manuscript.

_September 21_: Mrs H, in very dignified mood, approached me; said she
heard I had made plans to leave England in case the Grass threatened.
She asked nothing for herself, she said, being quite content to accept
whatever fate Providence had in store for her, but, would I take her
daughter and family along on the _Sisyphus_? They would be quite useful,
she added lamely.

I said I would give the matter my attention, but assured her there was
no immediate danger.

_September 22_: Grass on the Isle of Man.

_September 23_: Ordered stocking of the _Sisyphus_ with as much
concentrates as she can carry. The supply will be ample for a full crew,
F's staff and myself for at least six months.

_September 24_: Ive known for years that F is insane, but her latest
phase is so fantastic and preposterous I can hardly credit it. She
demands flatly the _Sisyphus_ take along at least fifty "nubile females
in order to restock the world after its reconquest." After catching my
breath I argued with her. The prospect of England's loss was by no means
certain yet.

"Good. We'll give the girls a seavoyage and land them back