Fatal North (27 page)

At least Joe's pistol was in the hut.

They crept out cautiously and, getting to the outer entrance, could distinctly hear the bear chewing. Several sealskins and a good deal of blubber were lying around in all directions. Some of the skins were drying for clothing; some were still uncured.

Once outside, they could plainly see a great white bear. He
could have been the granddaddy of the bear they had chased the other day because he was huge, in the thousand-pound range. He had hauled some of the skins and blubber about thirty feet from the kayak and was having a feast.

Joe, armed with the pistol, crept into the crew's igloo to warn them so no one would step outside to answer the call of nature and find himself interrupting a hungry bear in the midst of a meal.

While Joe was gone, Tyson crept stealthily to his rifle. In grabbing hold of it, he knocked down a shotgun leaning upright next to it.

The bear heard the noise, stood on his hind legs, stretching himself to eight feet, and growled. By then Tyson already had his rifle trained on him.

Tyson squeezed the trigger, but the gun did not go off. He pulled a second and third time. Still it did not go off.

In a surprisingly quick gait, the roaring bear lumbered directly for him. Tyson scrambled into the hut. He reloaded his weapon, replacing the bad cartridge with a new one, then put two reserves in his vest pocket.

He crept out again. The bear, back at his meal, looked up. Again, the creature stood defiantly to face Tyson, the role of hunter and prey, among two hungry and frightened living creatures, switching back and forth

This time the rifle ball hit its mark. The bear leapt backward, turned, and ran about ten yards before falling dead with a thunderous crash to the ground.

On skinning his kill in the morning, Tyson found that the ball had passed through the heart and out the other side—a very lucky shot in the dark.

The big bear provided a fine change of diet, tasting more like pork than anything they had eaten in a long time. He was a fine large animal, every part good to eat but the liver, which the Eskimos warned would make them sick. Hannah went to work preparing the bear hide for clothing.

On March 30, their latitude at noon was 59 degrees, 41 minutes north.

April 1. We have been the “fools of fortune” now for five months and a half. Our piece of ice is now entirely detached from the main pack, which is to the west of us, and which would be safer than this little bit we are on, and so we have determined to take to the boat and try and regain it. To do this we must abandon our store of meat, and we have sufficient now to last us a month, and many other things. Among the most valuable, much of the ammunition will have to be left, on account of its weight.

In their single boat with nineteen persons and stores, they launched.

17

In God's Hands

O
verloaded and riding very low in the water, the boat nearly swamped.

They hurriedly cast a hundred pounds of seal meat and their extra clothing overboard, but they still made little headway. Had a gale come up they would have capsized. They were towing the kayak and carrying, in a boat designed for no more than eight men, fourteen men and women, five children, a tent, heavy sleeping gear, and provisions.

They were so crowded in, Tyson could scarcely move his arms sufficiently to handle the yoke ropes for the sail without knocking into someone. The children were very frightened; the younger ones were beyond comforting, crying without cessation.

Tyson could not leave the tiller, even to eat, so Hannah fed him hunks of raw bear meat. It took them all day to go just twenty miles, and throughout the trip there was much complaining from the seamen, who feared the boat would sink in heavy seas, while Joe and Hans stayed busy bailing with old meat tins.

They were finally forced to overnight on the first piece of solid ice they could find. Spreading out the skins, they set up the
tent and ate small portions of dry bread and pemmican. Hans and his family used the boat as sleeping quarters, and the rest stretched out in the tent or on the open ice.

The next morning, April 2, they started again, still trying to push to the west. The wind and snow squalls were against them, blowing from the quarter to which they were steering, and they made little progress, mostly in the direction of south-southwest.

They had several narrow escapes with loose ice before they found a piece on which to land safely. By this time the boat was fast making water. When emptied out on shore, a puncture was found in the hull. They patched her up as best they could the next morning. They also fitted up washboards of canvas to try to keep the water from dashing over the sides.

They started off again, heading west.

After two more days of struggling against unfavorable winds and currents, they at last regained the main ice pack. The piece of ice on which they landed was so heavy and appeared to be so compact that they considered themselves out of immediate danger, although Tyson knew no ice was to be trusted at that time of year. The struggle to reach the pack had been severe and fatiguing; everyone was happy to stop and rest.

Joe started building an igloo to provide shelter in the event of a sudden storm.

The following day, with a gale blowing from the northwest, two pieces broke off from their floe early in the morning. They hauled their things farther back to the center. Soon after, another piece of ice broke off, carrying Joe's igloo with it. The snapping and cracking of the ice had given warning so that those inside the hut had time to escape. Undeterred, Joe speedily went about building another.

There was no telling where or when the ice would split next.

April 6. Blowing a gale, very severe, from the northwest. We are still on the same piece of ice, for the reason that we can not get off-—the sea is too rough. We are at the
mercy of the elements. Joe lost another hut today. The ice, with a great roar, split across the floe, cutting Joe's latest hut right in two. We have such a small foothold. We have put our things in the boat, and are standing by.

April 7. Wind still blowing a gale, with a fearful sea running. At six o'clock this morning, while we were getting a morsel of food, the ice split right under our tent! We were just able to scramble out, but our breakfast went down into the sea. We very nearly lost our boat—and that would be equivalent to losing ourselves.

At midnight the next night, the ice broke between the tent and boat, which had been so close that there was not space to pass between them. The boat and tent separated; on the piece of ice with the boat also went the kayak and Frederick Meyer, who had been lying down nearby.

The main party stood helpless as the boats and a stricken Meyer drifted away.

The weather, as usual, was blowing, snowing, and very cold, with a heavy sea running. All around them the ice was breaking, crushing, and overlapping.

Meyer could manage neither the boat nor the kayak alone. The boat was too heavy for one man, and the kayak of no use to anyone unaccustomed to maneuvering it; he would have capsized in an instant. He cast the kayak adrift, hoping it would come to the others, and that Joe or Hans could get it and come for him.

Unfortunately, the kayak drifted to the leeward, away from the main party.

“Oh, my God, boys, we are all goners!” shouted one of the Germans.

The seamen openly cursed Tyson, blaming him for their predicament.

With minimal discussion, and fully understanding what must be done, Joe and Hans took their paddles and ice spears and set
out, springing from one piece of ice to another. It was a brave act; the Eskimo hunters could easily become marooned on the drifting ice and never be seen again. Without a boat, however, the rest of the party would not be much better off.

After watching the hunters struggle for an hour, Tyson could make out in the growing darkness that they were close enough for Meyer to throw them a line, which he did. He then pulled them toward him.

When it became too dark to watch any longer, some in the main party lay down to rest and prepare for the next battle with ice and storm. The men were beside themselves with anger and frustration. Tyson, ignoring them, kept watch through the night.

When daylight arrived, they saw the boat and the three men were still about half a mile off. The Eskimos and Meyer together did not seem to possess the strength to get the boat into the water by themselves, although the hunters had corralled the kayak.

“Any volunteers to go with me to get the boat?” Tyson asked.

When no one stepped forward, he took an ice spear in hand to balance and support himself on the shifting ice cakes, and made his start. One man followed, and Tyson was surprised to see who it was: John Kruger, the sullen German seaman he had confronted more than once.

Together, they stepped and jumped from one slippery wave-washed piece of ice to the next. They would walk a few level steps, then face a piece higher or lower, so that they had to spring up or down. Sometimes the pieces were close together; then they would have a good jump to reach the next. So they continued their perilous ice dance, leaping from one patch to another until they made it to the boat.

Even the five men found their combined strength not enough to move the boat. Tyson called over for more men to help and two came, but that was still insufficient. Following more cries for help, at last all the men, except for two who were too afraid, joined them.

After a struggle they were able to get the boat and the kayak back safely to camp. En route Meyer and a seaman fell into the water and were pulled out, wet and nearly frozen. With no spare clothes to change into, they suffered mightily. Soon after arriving at camp, Meyer lost consciousness. When he came to, he announced that the toes on both his feet were frozen solid. Understanding the danger, the Eskimo women hurriedly wrapped his feet and kept his toes as warm as they could until the feeling began to come back in them.

Joe built his third igloo in as many days, and they pitched the tent alongside. They made a meal of a few bites of pemmican and bread. They set a watch to observe the movements of the ice, and everyone else lay down to rest.

April 9. During the night the wind was blowing a northeast gale. The sun shone for a few minutes—about long enough to take an observation: lat. 55 degrees, 51 mins. The sea is running very high again, and threatening to wash us off every moment. The ice is much slacker, and the water, like a hungry beast, creeps nearer. Things look very bad. We are in the hands of God; he alone knows how this night will end.

As the sun set in a golden light, an angry sea washed over the stranded party. Again, they piled everything into the boat, ready to shove off. Tyson feared they would never survive in such a sea, but if they were to be washed over or if the ice broke beneath them, they would have no choice but to launch. The women and children were moved to the boat as a precaution, for in an emergency there might not be time to collect them. The baby stayed in his mother's hood, but the rest of the children had to be physically moved whenever it was necessary to change the position of the boat on the shifting ice, as it often was.

As the heavy sea washed over them continuously, there was not a dry place to stand upon, nor a piece of freshwater ice to
drink. The sea had swept over everything, filling all the little depressions where they could usually find freshwater ice. As a consequence, they all suffered badly from thirst.

By midnight, the storm had quieted down. With the ice well closed around them, they decided to set up the tent once more and try to get some rest.

The next day was calm and cloudy. Although they could not see land, they knew they could not be far from shore. They had seen a fox, some crows, and other land birds. The ice was closed around them—mostiy solid ice in every direction, but they could neither travel over it nor use the boat. Their fate was not in their own hands. All they could do was wait for the ice pack to open up. They had two large bergs almost on top of them, but fortunately, there was no portion of the overhanging bergs that might fall and crush them. They saw some seals but could not get them. They were very hungry and likely to remain so.

Joe, who had been watching the men carefully, again confessed his fear to Tyson. The children would be eaten first, said Joe, who was convinced that the German seamen would not starve as long as there was an Eskimo child about.

Tyson, who was wearing the pistol at his side around the clock, impressed upon Joe and Hans the importance of keeping their rifles loaded and handy. He also took into his confidence the two non-German crew members: Herron, the English steward, and Jackson, the mulatto cook. Herron had already caught Kruger stealing food more than once. The two men, who were also armed, were equally horrified by the threat. Herron and Jackson, who had not always gotten along, assured Tyson they would together keep watch on the Germans and do what was necessary to protect the children.

April 13. Last night, as I sat solitary, thinking over our desperate situation, the northern lights appeared in great splendor. I watched while they lasted, and there seemed to be something like the promise accompanying the
first rainbow in their brilliant flashes. The auroras seem to me always like a sudden flashing out of the Divinity; a sort of reminder that God has not left us … This has thrown a ray of hope over our otherwise desolate outlook.

April 14. Wind light, from the north. The pack still closed. No chance of shifting our position for a better one yet. See seals almost every day, but can not get them. We can neither go through the ice nor over it in its present condition. The weather is fine and the sea calm, or rather, I should say, the ice is calm, for I see no water anywhere. Our small piece of ice is wearing away very fast, and our provisions nearly finished. Things look very dark, starvation very near. Poor Meyer looks wretchedly; the loss of food tells on him worse than on the rest. He looks very weak. I have much sympathy for him, notwithstanding the trouble he has caused me. I trust in God to bring us all through. It does not seem possible that we should have been preserved through so many perils, and such long-continued suffering, only to perish at last.