The Ice Master (20 page)

On the evening of January 16, Bartlett invited McKinlay to join him in the Eskimos' igloo to talk about their plans and prospects. The men would ultimately be divided into six teams of four men, and these Bartlett would lead to the Siberian mainland, via Wrangel Island. Bartlett chose McKinlay and Mamen to be in his party on the trail, along with Kataktovik, because, as he said, they were men after his own heart. They would build igloos along the way, instead of using tents, and they would pack as many provisions onto the sleds as the dogs could handle—fifty days' food for the men and thirty-five days' for the dogs, which were being fed every few days now instead of every day. After the dog food ran out, they would be forced to shoot the weaker animals to feed the others. They were fond of the creatures and it wasn't a pleasant thought; but they knew it had to be done to preserve life, both for the stronger dogs and for themselves.

Once setting foot on Siberian soil, they would skirt the shore to North Cape, and then follow the shore to Saint Lawrence Bay, with the option of cutting down through Koliuchin Bay instead. Providing they made it past hostile Eskimo settlements (of which there were rumored to be many), the stronger members of the party would then trek on to find communication so that they could notify the proper authorities while the rest of the party would remain in Saint Lawrence Bay. All told, they would have to travel hundreds of miles.

“Now look here
⁴⁴
, boy,” Bartlett said to McKinlay, laying his hand on the smaller man's shoulders, “we are up against it. The Peary trip is going to look like a picnic alongside this, but we are going to see it through.”

“You bet your life,” McKinlay replied, trying to sound as convincing as possible, yet wondering all the time if they would.

While they were busy with the preparations, McKinlay and Mamen took the captain aside and told him of an idea of their own. What if he sent a scouting party to Wrangel Island, ahead of everyone else? What if this party could take a load of food and supplies and then remain on the island until the others got there, so that they could explore and learn the lay of the land and report on what kind of game there was, and on ice conditions, before bringing everyone ashore?

The idea had occurred to Bartlett before, and now he thought it over again. When the three of them reconvened, he told them that he had decided to go through with it. It made good, practical sense—the men had been living for so long on the ship, and as a result were not yet hardened to the cold. Nor were they in the best physical shape, and no one except Hadley and the Eskimos had any experience in traveling over the Arctic ice, a rotten journey made even worse by poor light and freezing temperatures. For so many reasons, it made sense to send a few handpicked men before moving the entire party.

Three sleds could be taken, each one led by six dogs and loaded with 400 pounds of provisions. Bartlett wanted to send his ablest men to lead the party, which meant Mamen and McKinlay. But he didn't want them both to be gone at once. He needed one of them to remain with him because they were the only two he trusted.

It fell to Mamen, the stronger and heartier of the two, to lead the scouting party, taking with him Kuraluk and Kataktovik. First mate Sandy Anderson, second mate Barker, Seaman Ned Golightly, and geologist Malloch were designated members of the shore party, who would remain on Wrangel Island and set up camp while Mamen and the Eskimos returned with two empty sleds. McKinlay, meanwhile, would remain in camp to assist the captain, issuing material and looking after various matters.

When Mamen returned, he would, if at all possible, go back to the island with another party while the rest of the group awaited the return of the sun at Shipwreck Camp. When they had enough daylight, they would then join the others, relaying supplies to the island in small teams. This way, they could get enough provisions ashore to last until the birds returned to Wrangel in the spring, and they could also establish a shore camp where the men could rest and dry their foot gear before returning to Shipwreck Camp for more supplies. Bartlett envisioned snow igloos erected along the way, to serve as permanent relay stations.

“We may thus
⁴⁵
be able to take most of the food & clothing we have here to the island,” wrote McKinlay excitedly, “so that we will have something to fall back on, should we need it, when making for the mainland. The announcement of this plan created a great deal of excitement & everyone seemed to welcome it.”

Everyone, that is, but Dr. Mackay. The doctor listened with a scowl on his face as Bartlett gave orders in front of the assembled company. It is an easy guess that Mackay would have liked to have been a part of that shore party, so rabid was he to break free from the rest and start for land. This was the worst news he could have. They were finally starting for the island, but not with him. For so long, he had been planning this very journey, and now, at last, the captain was doing what, in Mackay's mind, he should have done months ago. But Mackay was forced to remain behind.

Upon hearing the captain's orders, Mackay completely snapped. He had had enough of the Canadian Arctic Expedition and of Bartlett and his indecisiveness and weak-kneed leadership. He'd had enough of his self-righteous colleagues and the crude and insufferable crewmen. As far as he was concerned, this was the point of no return.

J
ANUARY 18 BROUGHT WILD,
blinding snow, and a fierce gale. Shivering against the cold, Hadley, Mamen, and Sandy loaded the three designated scouting party sleds with biscuits, pemmican, sugar, tents, Primus stoves, alcohol, and various other provisions.

Those who weren't loading the sleds and preparing their equipment set out on the ice with picks and axes to break a trail for the scouting party. The going was fine for the first three miles, until they ran up against an enormous pressure ridge, stretching fifteen to twenty feet in the air. They did their best to clear it, and then returned to camp, feeling satisfied with a day's work. Unfortunately, the snow, the wind, and the drifts took over, and by nighttime all traces of the trail had been destroyed.

With the ferocity of the snowstorm, Bartlett decided that the scouting party would not be able to leave, as planned, the following day. Even if the weather cleared, he would not let his men depart until he could see Wrangel Island distinctly and discern if there was any change in their position or in the condition of the ice pack. If he was not satisfied on all these accounts, the trip would have to be postponed until the weather cooperated.

The sweeping snow and stinging winds were relentless and brutal. It was one thing to suffer through a blizzard inside the walls of a ship, another altogether to be sitting on the ice, unprotected and vulnerable. They were now experiencing an entirely new level of cold, and getting their first taste of living out in the elements. To make matters worse, the ice pack continued to shift and crack, much to the horror of these men who were relying upon its fickle surface as the only thing separating them from the frigid depths of the Arctic Ocean. “All the time
⁴⁶
, we could hear the booming sound of the immense ice floes grinding against each other,” Chafe wrote, “or the sharper crash of an opening lead. Then all would hurry out in the darkness to see whether a lead had opened near our Camp.”

They awoke the next day to find the wind blowing from all directions; but they could see the land rising up out of the snow, and its bearing didn't seem to be drastically different. Cheered by this vision, everyone—excluding Dr. Mackay, Murray, and Beuchat—hastily worked at completing the preparations so that the team could start out the next day, as soon as the light allowed.

Finally, the sleds and equipment were ready, with thirty days' provisions for Sandy's land party, and ten days' for Mamen and the Eskimos. The trail was broken again by the same team that had gone out the day before, and now all that was left was for the group leaving to pack their personal clothing.

After supper, Bartlett summoned Mamen and McKinlay to the stove tent, where he outlined his instructions to Mamen. He was to command the party until land was reached, at which point Sandy would take charge of the shore party. He was to land supplies on the island and unload. Then, as long as he deemed it safe, he was to leave Sandy's party to drag the supplies ashore. He should return at once, not stopping to sleep on the island, leaving one sled and bringing back two, along with all the dogs. And last, Mamen was to return to camp if he came to open water and thought there was a risk of losing his supplies.

They spread the charts of the island out before them and estimated that it should take Mamen three days to reach land. By the end of the week, a fire would be lit at Shipwreck Camp to guide Mamen and the Eskimos back in.

McKinlay took night watchman's duties that night so that he could make two copies of the Admiralty Chart of Wrangel Island, one for Mamen and one for Sandy. He worked until 3:00
A.M.
, a thankless job because he had no way of spreading out the chart but had to work cramped in one position.

There was just one more thing to be dealt with. Malloch was worrying about going. Ever since he received the news that he would be joining the scouting party, he had been anxious and preoccupied. It was too great a risk. His clothes weren't ready yet, but even more than that, he was petrified about going on the trip. His attitude surprised Bartlett and the rest of the staff. Malloch was physically one of the strongest men in the company, and by far the most reckless. He had always been wild and careless when it came to his own health and well-being, and he had a way of laughing everything off when it became too serious. But ever since the ship went down his colleagues had seen a change in him.

Malloch went to the captain not once, but twice, expressing his concern, and even though Bartlett had tried to reassure him, his mind was still uneasy. He asked and then demanded to be replaced. So it was that at 10:00
P.M.
, on January 19, Seaman John Brady was informed he would be going instead.

I
T WAS, AS
M
C
K
INLAY
described it, a dirty-looking night. The wind had not let up and the snow swept through camp with the venom of a great, white beast. Everyone was to be called at 4:00 that morning, but Bartlett took one look outside and changed his mind. The wind howled and shrieked, and it was savagely raw and cold. The trip was postponed once more.

“It gets on
⁴⁷
the nerves to wait and wait under these circumstances,” Mamen wrote in his diary. “All depends on these trips to the island.. . . I hope they will be successful, it is my highest desire these days.”

Miraculously, by January 21 the breeze had lightened, the snowdrift had mellowed, and the sky had cleared. Bartlett took a good, long look, studying the distant island, the ice pack, the elements, with a weathered, seasoned gaze. And then finally, he gave the word—they were cleared to go.

As Mamen set out to lead his first small expedition of sorts, he reminded himself of all those who were counting on him. It was an enormous responsibility for a twenty-two-year-old, and the first serious challenge of his young life. He thought of his family back home and about Ellen and, most of all, he thought about the journey ahead. If Mamen was good at anything it was bolstering himself up and finding courage in daunting situations. Time and again, he had discovered deep within himself the ability to rise up and fight when all looked bleak. But still, he was riddled with doubt, and overwhelmed by the trust Bartlett was placing in him. “One must take
⁴⁸
chances and risk something to win,” he wrote, ”and win we must.. . . With God's help we will get successfully through with it.”

M
AMEN WAS LESS THAN HAPPY
with their first day's work on the trail. He went to bed that night in their crudely and hastily constructed snow house feeling restless and unsatisfied. He was being hard on himself, unnecessarily. The changeable weather hadn't helped, and neither had the ice conditions. Now he listened to the wind screaming outside and prayed for better luck and an improvement in the weather.

Mamen wanted desperately to prove himself, not only to the captain, but to everyone else as well. He would go out there and lead that party, and it would all be wonderful experience for the expedition he planned to lead someday. He was certain tomorrow would be better. But still . . . a weight remained. All were waiting for him to lead them and then return for the others. And now the wind was howling as he had never heard it howl before, and he couldn't see anything in the thick, falling snow.

After breakfast that morning at Shipwreck Camp, they had dug out the snow-covered sleds, and after Bartlett had presented official written instructions to both Mamen and Sandy, the scouting party had departed, Mamen leading the way on skis. Everyone but the captain, Hadley, Murray, Beuchat, Auntie, and the little girls accompanied them for the first four or five miles, making a good, fast start. The dogs were fresh and energetic, but the ice proved rough. The sleds were repeatedly drawn to a standstill by pressure ridges and snowdrifts, and fresh cracks in the ice were troublesome but crossable.

By noon, the extra men turned back to Shipwreck Camp, bidding Mamen's party “au revoir
⁴⁹
” and “good luck.” There was great excitement, everyone full of hope for the future. At last, the moment they had been preparing for had arrived—the men were finally on their way.

Now on their own, Mamen led his party onward, and not long afterward the snow began to blow so that they could not see more than fifty or sixty yards in front of them. It was disastrous because just as suddenly the smooth ice grew rough and uneven, shattering their hopes of a good day's travel.

They headed southwest, relying on the compass at times because the snow was so blinding. Just seven miles from Shipwreck Camp, they came to the first opening in the ice. The ice was thin and the lead wide enough so that they were forced to unload the sleds and drag them across empty so they would be light enough to make it. Then they transferred all of the provisions by hand.