The Broken Lands (21 page)

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Authors: Robert Edric

BOOK: The Broken Lands
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They were twenty days out from the ships, had covered 170 miles, and could afford to continue for ten or twelve days more before turning back. For three days they crossed flat open ground with
nothing to break the monotony of the receding horizon all around them—three days at the center of a white and disorientating disc, with only the rise and fall of the sun to keep them on course.
Then, on the fourth day of crossing this empty space they finally sighted land ahead of them, an undifferentiated smear at first, a charcoal line upon the whiteness, which slowly became clearer, revealing distinct peaks and dips the closer they approached.
One of the seamen had been the first to spot this, and upon confirming the discovery, Fitzjames promised the man, Thomas Tadman, that if it was previously undiscovered land then they would name its most prominent feature after him.
The day was warm, and walking unburdened by their thicker clothing they made good progress.
They stopped at dusk, the land to the west now only two or three miles away. They were all confident that they would reach it the following morning, after which it was Fitzjames’ intention to continue exploring south until the time came to turn back. He had already discussed with Reid and Fairholme the possibility of finding a different route back to the ships, turning due east and then north and thereby avoiding the range of faulted ice which had slowed them on their outward journey.
The following morning they were woken an hour before dawn by Thomas Tadman, and emerging from their tent they saw that Reddington and several others were already out on the ice, some of them carrying lanterns and burning brands.
“We saw a light,” Bryant shouted to Fitzjames. The men around him nodded in emphatic confirmation.
Fitzjames’ first instinct was to say that this was impossible, to suggest that what they had seen was a low star, or a freak of reflected light. The first dim glow of the unrisen sun was already behind them, staining rather than illuminating the sky. Making no comment, however, he asked to be shown where the light had appeared, and half a dozen arms swung to point in the direction of the land toward which they were moving.
“It must be a fire,” Reid said.
The light reappeared, remained in view for several minutes and then vanished again.
They dismantled their tents, awaited the first appearance of the sun so that Fairholme might establish their position for his journal, then resumed their journey.
It was Reid who called them to a halt half an hour later, having once again spotted the light, which had been hidden from them by a fold in the land.
For the first time since leaving Beechey they began to walk on frozen ground, shingle and then limestone, rather than on ice. Goodsir collected samples, the noise of his hammer ringing in echo all around them and unsettling several of the seamen by announcing their presence in such an exposed place.
They were stopped less than a hundred yards farther on by a sudden call which, under any other circumstances, they might have identified as the cry of a disturbed bird or the bark of a fox, but which they were all now convinced had been human. The marines loaded their rifles, and Fitzjames and Fairholme drew out their pistols. They gathered together around the sledges. The fire which had burned ahead of them for the past quarter of an hour was suddenly obscured.
“There is someone there,” Fairholme whispered.
There was a further call, after which they waited in silence. Other, less distinct and equally unintelligible voices could be heard, and in response to these Reid cupped his hands to his mouth and called out a single word three times. It was a word few of them understood—“Temya”—but by which they all immediately realized that they had at last encountered their first Eskimos.
The sun had risen fully by then, casting their elongated shadows ahead of them as they advanced, Reid still calling out for the figures around the fire to reveal themselves.
At a gesture from the ice-master those around him stopped and waited. The rest gathered in a group several yards behind.
Reid then called out something different, a full sentence.
Ahead of them a man appeared, short and barely distinguishable
against the dark land behind him. A second figure rose beside him, and after this several others, until they were eventually confronted by a group similar in size to their own.
Reid went forward alone, speaking loudly, his empty hands held above his head.
The others watched as he walked within reach of the men beside the fire, some of whom held short spears, and who began to speak among themselves as Reid approached. He communicated with them, the same few words repeated over and over, and then turned to indicate the direction from which he had come. He beckoned for Fitzjames to join him, and Fitzjames went forward until he too was face to face with the natives.
“I told them you are our leader and that you bring with you a greeting and promise of peace and gifts from our Queen. Apparently they’ve heard of the Queen. One of them has traded with whalers.” Reid pointed the man out to Fitzjames, and thus prompted, Fitzjames made a short speech, emphasizing everything he said with exaggerated gestures. He too motioned back in the direction they had come, and when he at last fell silent, uncertain whether or not his display had served its purpose, the two men closest to him came forward to embrace him, causing him to stoop to accommodate them, and coming away from them with soot and grease on his cheeks. Then they embraced Reid, who returned the gesture with equal enthusiasm.
The others came forward and the introductions were repeated until each man of both parties had embraced with everyone else. Then they were led back to the fire, where they saw beside it the skinned carcasss of a dozen large seals. Alongside them lay their bloodless pelts, looking as though they had been sloughed off naturally rather than stripped by force from the dead creatures.
Wedged into the fire were two iron pots full of rendered oil, and all around the blaze lay the scattered debris of at least another dozen skeletons, most of these reduced to only a skull and a spine, and looking like giant white serpents crawling over the ground, the illusion of movement completed by the flickering shadows of the fire.
The novelty and delight of the encounter was as great for the Eskimos as for the members of the expedition, and the meeting was celebrated long after their introductions had been concluded.
Later, Reid explained to Fitzjames that they had come across a hunting party, that the Eskimos lived far to the southeast, and were operating now from temporary shelters a short distance to the south, at the junction of the land and the ice. Encouraged by this, Fitzjames sought information concerning the presence of either land or open water in the direction of their home. Reid attempted to convey the question, and the man who had traded with the whalers drew a simple map on the thawed ground with a stick. It was difficult to decipher, consisting of only a few confusing lines, which the man attempted to explain by pointing to the corresponding land and ice around them. Reid confessed that he could understand little, but believed that the man had suggested there was both land and water to the south and southeast of them. He also thought that this was presently covered by ice, and that the man had signified this by blowing upon his ungloved hand and sweeping it over everything he had drawn. As before, Fitzjames felt encouraged and disappointed in equal measure by the revelation.
It had been his intention to continue south, but he was persuaded by the others to delay until the following day so that they might spend some time in the company of the Eskimos.
Later in the evening, the sun only moments from touching the horizon, the Eskimos indicated that they were about to withdraw to their shelters. Fitzjames, Goodsir and several of the seamen walked the short distance with them, surprised both by the weight of meat and oil the natives’ frail-looking sledges were able to bear, and the ease with which they slid over the difficult ground. They were built of bone and held together with knotted thongs. When empty they collapsed into a bundle and could be easily carried strapped across a man’s back. Fully loaded, Fitzjames estimated them to be capable of carrying 120 pounds, while themselves weighing less than ten.
The shelters were crude constructions also made of bone, over which hides had been stretched, and around which low ice walls
had then been built. A single broad antler rocked in the breeze, and a short distance away a rack of drying meat stood like a giant abacus.
An hour after their arrival Fitzjames gathered his party together and indicated to the Eskimos that it was time for them to leave, which they eventually did after a ceremony as long and as involved as their introductions.
The following morning they rose early and set off in the direction of the camp on their own journey south.
Arriving there, they were surprised to discover that the Eskimos had already departed, and that little remained to indicate they had ever been there. Searching for a souvenir, one of the seamen found the antler they had seen the previous evening. He was about to take this when Reid told him not to, explaining that it had been left by the Eskimos as a marker for others coming after them.
Reid then searched the ground where the shelters had been and indicated that the hunting party had set off toward the north. They all turned to look, but saw nothing against the low outline of the land in that direction.
Reluctant to delay any longer, Fitzjames gave the order for them to resume their march south. Only four days of their allotted outward journey time remained to them.
By midday they had covered six miles, walking wherever possible on the smooth shallow ice where it abutted the land, and then returning to the rock and loose stone where the ice was fractured, or where it showed signs of thawing, making it unpredictable and likely to give beneath their weight.
An hour later Reid called for them to halt while he climbed a low rise to examine something on the horizon ahead of them. A few minutes earlier they had heard a distant crack, and then the long drawn-out scratching of moving ice. Reid called for Fitzjames to join him and pointed out the strip of cloud which lay across both the land and the ice ahead of them. At first Fitzjames had difficulty in making this out, and then in accepting that it was a cloud and not a finger of land running across their path out into the frozen channel.
As the two men stood and examined this they heard again the distant noise of breaking ice.
“Is it ice in
this
channel, do you think?” Fitzjames asked, indicating the broad expanse beneath them, across which lay their return journey to the ships.
“For our sakes I hope not,” Reid said calmly. “If it’s starting to move now, this early, then there’s no saying what it’ll be up to when we turn to cross it on our way back.” He examined the furrowed mass as he spoke.
“I think the cloud is moving toward us,” Fitzjames said, now accepting that this was what Reid had spotted.”
Reid watched for several minutes before confirming this.
“Perhaps that’s why the Eskimos turned north.”
“Possibly.” Reid was more concerned with their own need for evasive action. He called down for the men on the ice to pull the sledges up on to the land. “If we turn inland we might avoid the worst of it, and we’ll at least be safe from any sudden movement in the ice.”
Fitzjames agreed with him, and a moment later, seeing that their sledges had not yet been hauled clear, he himself shouted for the men below to hurry, a note of undisguised urgency in his voice. Looking back to the advancing cloud, he saw with some surprise, shock almost, that far from drifting slowly north, this was now coming toward them with considerable speed, and seconds later a blast of cold air caught him in the face. He turned to Reid, but saw that he was already running down the slope to help with the sledges. He followed him. The others too felt the chill of the oncoming cloud and were shocked into action by it.
Those in harness started to run; others helped to push the sledges, and all of them crossed from the ice to the land. Fitzjames stood apart from them, calling down his orders and motioning for the casks and cases they spilled to be gathered up. He felt the unexpected sting of ice in the wind and then watched helplessly as a shower of pellets drove into them like shot. Several men called out in pain as they raced for shelter, uncertain of where they might find this.
Fairholme and Goodsir ran together, buffeted by the wind which caused them to run leaning into it, and which repeatedly sucked off their hoods until they were forced to fold their arms over their heads to protect themselves. They eventually arrived at a small depression in the ground and directed those following them into it. One of the sledges was pulled safely into this hollow, but the second, the one that was already damaged, overhung the rim and broke in half, scattering its load on the men below. Fairholme was struck by a sack containing a cone of sugar, was badly cut and briefly concussed. Men leapt and fell into the scalloped depression, scrambling over one another and the spilled provisions in an effort to pull themselves out of the wind, until eventually they were all together, crouching on their hands and knees with the worst of the wind whipping immediately above them.
Loose ice was driven into the hollow and this collected all around them. Bryant and his marine pulled out their tents, and although there was no possibility of erecting these while the wind still battered them, the two men were at least able to stretch the cane hoops and canvas over their bodies and legs. Beneath this outer covering they packed their furs and traveling-rugs, padding out the spaces between themselves until they were tightly cocooned. The wind and the ice still penetrated, but they were at least safe from the worst of it. Fairholme regained consciousness between Goodsir and Fitzjames. Molasses from a damaged cask had congealed in the fur of his hood, in his hair and in the stubble of his unshaven cheeks, and pressing closer to him, Goodsir began to lick at this before it froze against his skin.

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