It was with a heavy heart that Adam made his way back to the boat. He couldn’t believe he’d come all this way for the wrong kind of rock. Fontus clapped a hand on his shoulder.
‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘These things happen.’
‘You said this is a stumble,’ Adam said, ‘but I was still headed in the right direction. How is that possible? This is the wrong kind of rock. I can’t do anything with it.’
‘We all need to be open-minded about opportunities. Sometimes it’s just as important to rule some things out as it is to rule them in. There are times when we seem to be on a wrong path, realising only later that it was a necessary part of our journey.’
They reached the harbour where Isaac was waiting patiently by his small boat. The seaman listened while Fontus described their discovery, or lack thereof.
‘That’s odd,’ Isaac said, rubbing his chin. ‘I was sure it was the same rock. Many of the people on this island use it in the construction of their homes.’
‘I wonder how they cut it,’ Adam mused.
‘Why don’t we ask?’ Fontus suggested.
Once again bidding Isaac goodbye, Adam and Fontus traipsed back along the path. Half-an-hour later they reached a town of about a hundred buildings crowded against the coast. By now they were getting hungry, so they found a general store and ordered some stew.
While they were waiting, Adam’s eyes searched the shelves. Items of every description were for sale: pots, pans, knives, dried meat and vegetables, bowls, clothing and fabric. His eyes settled on a crowded shelf near the counter.
‘Look!’ Adam said, feeling a sense of excitement. ‘Sculptures!’
He examined them closely. They were very fine sculptures of animals, birds and people. At that moment, the proprietor—a woman who identified herself as Destor—appeared with their meals. Adam asked her about the sculptures.
‘They are made by Canion,’ she explained. ‘He lives a little way down the coast.’
Quickly eating their meals, they asked Destor for directions to the sculptor’s home before leaving the store.
‘I wonder how he carves the stones,’ Adam said, as they continued their journey. ‘The rock is too hard for it to be done by hand.’
After a short walk they found a tiny house crammed between two boulders. It had a single window and a whitewashed timber door. Adam knocked at it hesitantly. After a minute, it was eased open by an old man with a short grey beard.
‘Yes?’ he said, looking at the two unexpected visitors. ‘What is it you want?’
Adam introduced himself and Fontus. ‘I am trying to start my own business,’ he said. ‘I want to make carvings similar to yours.’ The more Adam spoke the more embarrassed and uncomfortable he felt. Why would the old man share his secrets with someone who was obviously a competitor? Much to Adam’s surprise, though, the man’s face brightened.
‘I understand your curiosity,’ Canion said. ‘Have you brought any of your carvings with you?’
Adam had brought his sculpture of the stone bird. He showed it to the old man.
‘That’s fine work indeed,’ Canion said, eyeing it critically. ‘It’s better than what I produce.’
Adam was flattered. ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said.
‘But how long did it take you to make it?’
‘About a week.’
Canion nodded thoughtfully. ‘I could produce a similar piece in a few hours,’ he said.
‘How?’
The old man took them through to the back room of his home. Piles of dusty stone sat on one side. On the other was a workbench upon which were numerous finished carvings. Beside it sat a complicated contraption that looked like a spinning wheel.
Canion sat down at the device. He had a half-finished piece of stone held in a vice. Pressing on two foot pedals made a blade move up and down. It sliced through a piece of stone like a knife slowly pushing through cheese.
‘That’s amazing!’ Adam asked. ‘And you use this to make your sculptures?’
‘My device does the rough cutting. I then finish the pieces by hand.’
‘Where did you get it?’
‘I made it.’
Adam stared at the device, his mind working feverishly. Using the machine he might be able to make three pieces a day. They would sell for good prices. With the help of the machine he would have a business for life.
‘Your eyes are glowing,’ Canion said.
‘Really? It must be something I ate.’
Canion roared with laughter. ‘You have come at the right time,’ he said. ‘I am an old man and my days of carving are at their close. I might even be tempted to part with my toy—for a price.’
‘How much?’
‘Thirty coppers.’
That’s most of my money, Adam thought.
Fontas broke in. ‘Allow us a moment to consult,’ he said.
‘Of course.’
Fontus took Adam outside. The sun was low in the sky now, turning the surface of the ocean into a blanket of glistening diamonds.
‘What do you think?’ Adam asked. ‘I can make many more carvings, allowing me to—’
‘Let me ask you this,’ Fontus interrupted. ‘How many carvings have you sold?’
‘Uh, none.’
‘So we are not sure there is even a market for them.’
That’s true, Adam thought. I could lose everything.
‘You’re saying I shouldn’t invest in the rock cutter?’ Adam said.
Fontus paused. ‘I’m saying this is a big step into the unknown,’ he said. ‘The best entrepreneurs test their market first.’
Lesson 7: The best entrepreneurs test their market first.