The Ice Master (27 page)

They still had to cut their way through the ice in spots, but now there was smooth ice in patches, which helped their progress.

Then, as Bartlett had predicted, they came upon another pressure ridge. They knew the drill by now, and everyone set to work—just as they had before—to build yet another road across the Arctic.

F
OR SOME REASON
that Mamen couldn't figure out, the skipper had turned selfish. He and Kataktovik kept to themselves now, always walking ahead together to break the trail, and in Mamen's opinion, Bartlett couldn't do a thing alone without Kataktovik as his nursemaid.

There had been a large portion of bear meat, their share from the one Hadley had killed, which Bartlett had proposed they wait to eat. While the other teams were enjoying theirs, they waited. Bartlett said he was too tired to cook it and they should save it for later.

Afterward, when Mamen and McKinlay asked for their share of the meat, they were told it was already gone.

“I don't give
¹⁰
a damn now till we get the things in to the island,” Mamen reported Bartlett as saying, “and then to hell with them, with everybody, I know damn well to look out for myself. I am not going to starve.”

McKinlay sensed there were other reasons for Bartlett's strange behavior. Still, it was baffling. Bartlett was usually so generous and fair, and now he seemed to think more of himself. On March 7, the captain got two stoves going just to dry out his own clothes. “I have also
¹¹
been disappointed,” McKinlay wrote, “to find that Captain is not sticking to the scale of allowances he himself has laid down; he & Kataktovik today took with them 2 lb. pemmican over the ration.”

In their tent, a tin of Underwood pemmican was lasting them only one day instead of the prescribed one and a half days. He could only blame it on Bartlett, since he and Kataktovik were still taking two pounds of the stuff with them when they went out breaking the trail.

Bartlett told McKinlay “‘it don't matter'
¹²
to him, as he is not going to stint himself before he reaches the island. The reason is obvious, of course, he will start off fresh supplied from the island & we will have what is left.”

What McKinlay and Mamen could not know was that the captain was thinking ahead of the long journey to Siberia. He knew now that most of his men were too weak to make the journey. He had already been toying with the idea that he himself would make the two-hundred-mile trek to Siberia, and the five hundred miles beyond that of rugged Siberian wilderness. Mamen expected to go, but Bartlett knew Mamen would never make it, thanks to his lame knee.

Better to let his men think the worst of him than to explain that their own survival depended upon his physical condition. He had to strengthen himself for the long, arduous journey that lay ahead. If he was not strong enough, he would never make it to Siberia himself. They, on the other hand, would be waiting for him on an island, which, by all reports, teemed with enough game to get them through. Bartlett and Kataktovik would be crossing mostly ice and wilderness, and there was no telling what chances they would have at obtaining fresh meat. He couldn't very well tell his men they were going to die if he didn't have extra pemmican, so he took the extra rations and let them wonder.

T
HEY AWOKE ON THE MORNING
of March 12, determined to reach land at any cost, even if it meant traveling in the dark.

Bartlett's party was up by 3:00
A.M.
, and on their way before 6:00. The other teams followed later. At 1:05
P.M.
, Bartlett, Kataktovik, McKinlay, and Mamen were still in the lead. Kuraluk and his family were not far behind.

Kataktovik was up ahead, breaking the trail, when they heard a shout. He was kicking the snow with his foot. “Nuna!” he was yelling.
¹³
“Nuna!”

Land
.

McKinlay and Mamen gave a cheer for the solid earth—the first they had set foot on since leaving Port Clarence, Alaska, in July 1913.

Wrangel Island was a rocky, barren wilderness, covered in ice and snow. Fifty miles wide and a couple hundred miles long, it lay four hundred fifty miles northwest of Alaska and two hundred miles from the Siberian coast. It was rough country, harsh and unfriendly, almost entirely mountainous, its peaks rising some twenty-five hundred feet. There was little vegetation or wildlife, aside from polar bears and offshore seals. It was, as Chafe said, “the most desolate
¹⁴
looking place I have ever seen, or ever wish to see again.”

But it was land.

Bartlett and his men stood on the northeast side of the island, where three sandy spits jutted out from land into the water, or, more accurately, ice. They had reached Icy Spit, which was the middle one. The shore was littered with dead trees, their gnarled roots piercing the air. There were mountains and valleys near the coast, and higher peaks rising from the middle of the island. Everything was buried in snow and, except for the mountains, it was impossible to tell the difference between land and ice. There was driftwood everywhere, which was a wonderful sight, because they would need it for fuel before their stay there was over. There was no trace of game yet, but they were hopeful. And what's more, they were safe.

While they waited for their comrades, they began building an igloo for the night, their spirits soaring. The only dark cloud was that there was no sign yet of either Sandy's party or Dr. Mackay's. They had not really expected to see Mackay and Murray, Beuchat and Morris, but they had hoped—and prayed—to see Sandy and his team waiting for them.

They now began to fear the worst. If Sandy was not on Wrangel Island, where was he? Had they even made it to Herald Island? Were they waiting there now? Or were they lost in the ice?

It was too horrible a thought.

They quickly built fires out of wet driftwood so there would be smoke, which would be visible from far away. If Sandy were to see it, or Mackay, it would guide them.

Two miles offshore with the rest of the men, Maurer could see Bartlett's team across the ice, elevated in the distance, and he knew the captain must have reached land. They saw the mountains beyond—not ice mountains this time, but real mountains of rock. And then they could see glorious smoke rising from an unseen fire.

Maurer and the others quickened their pace. Some of the men had thought they would never set foot on firm ground again. They couldn't believe it when they actually did. Dropping on hands and knees, they dug through the snow. Tears welled up when they saw the earth. They picked up the pebbles and rocks and held them, rocks pressed to faces, lips. They had never appreciated the ground beneath their feet until they had lost it and found it again.

They knew it was a temporary shelter. They knew one or all of them would have to make the two-hundred-mile journey over the dangerous sea ice to the Siberian mainland. They knew that even after reaching Siberia there were still hundreds of miles to traverse before reaching civilization where they could send word for rescue. But at that moment, they only wanted to celebrate.

“What a sense
¹⁵
of security we enjoyed for the first time in months,” wrote Maurer. “We were almost wild with delight. We were on land! No more open leads—no more midnight alarms.”

They left their provisions in the open that night, out on the sandspit, and then turned in to their snow houses and slept, for the first time since the
Karluk
was crushed, peacefully and with easy minds.

“No braver man
¹⁶
, nor one more loyal to duty than Captain Bartlett, can be found in the world,” wrote Maurer afterward. “He shared all the dangers and hardships, and worked as no man ever before worked, for the safety of the men. He kept them in good spirits, and would face any danger for them. I can truly say that if it had not been for Captain Bartlett, not one of us would ever have reached Wrangell [
sic
] Island.”

In the week that followed, Bartlett pondered over what to do. The rest of the men busied themselves searching for game, gathering driftwood, returning for provisions cached along the trail, and setting up camp.

There was a story Bartlett knew about a student who was asked to name five Arctic animals. To which the student replied, “Three polar bears
¹⁷
and two seal.” Even if bears and seals were all they should find on Wrangel Island, they would survive. Bartlett prayed there would be enough of them.

Kuraluk suspected they would not find much game in the vicinity of Icy Spit because there did not seem to be much open water there, and there were no seal holes within twenty-five miles of land. After some exploration, he reported seeing bear tracks, but he determined that there were no reindeer or caribou on the island, probably because the animals would not be able to survive in an area where it would be so difficult for them to get food. He also took a long walk along the western part of the shore, to Berry Spit, looking for Sandy and Dr. Mackay. He returned to camp, having seen no sign of either.

For a long while, the captain had made it clear to his men that there were only two choices—either he would go ahead to Siberia alone or they would all make the trip. At first, Bartlett had been of the mind that they should all go, but some of the men were now too weak or injured, in particular Malloch, Maurer, and Mamen, who would only slow the journey down. The last thing they needed was to pull Mamen with his bum knee, or Malloch with his frostbitten feet, or to wait while some of the slower members of the party hemmed and hawed and asked to turn back to land.

They were on land and comparatively safe, but to wait for a ship would be foolhardy. The whaling industry had declined so drastically in the area that the captain did not expect any ships to come out this far. And although they were off the treacherous ice, there were still hazards to be aware of. They no longer had to worry about being crushed by ice, but now they might freeze or die of starvation if help didn't come before too long.

Bartlett decided that he would have to go for help. He would make his way across Long Strait from Wrangel, and then to the coast of Siberia. And he would take Kataktovik as his sole traveling companion. The Eskimo was young, but he had some experience of ice travel—certainly as much as anyone else Bartlett had to choose from—and he was used to surviving in the cold and ice. He understood life in the Arctic and he had proven himself to be dependable.

Bartlett knew they would need to travel light and they would need to travel fast. The later in the season, the worse the ice conditions would grow as the ice began breaking up and the leads of open water multiplied.

They had been out of touch with the world for months now. Bartlett needed to get word to the Canadian government as soon as possible.

They had food enough on the island to last the group eighty days, which would get them through most of June. And hopefully by then the birds would be back on the island, and seals would be easier to find offshore.

On March 14, he told the rest of the company his plan. Mamen, as expected, took it the hardest. He had counted on going with Bartlett and made no attempt to hide his disappointment. Bartlett had made up his mind. He knew what was best for the party, which meant Mamen and his injured knee remained on Wrangel Island.

He would take seven dogs and leave the rest. He wanted Mamen, Chafe, and Clam to go back to Shipwreck Camp for the remaining supplies and was leaving Mamen in charge of that short expedition. Small consolation, but a big responsibility nonetheless. Mamen's orders were to bring as many sled loads as possible across the pressure ridges, caching them on the shore side of the mountain range, where the stores should be safe from shifting ice, and easier to bring to land.

Bartlett addressed his men with confidence, which soothed their worried minds and imbued them with hope. But the truth was that the skipper knew as much about Siberia as he knew about Mars. He had the reports of the
American Coast Pilot Book
, but those were several years old, and other than these, he had nothing to go on. He would just hope for the best and figure it out when—and if—he got there.

B
Y THE MORNING OF THE FIFTEENTH
, a blizzard raged outside their igloo. They were forced to lie inside all day, except when Kataktovik had to cut his way out to fix the roof, which was falling in, and to fetch more supplies. The house was buried under several feet of snow, so it took the men hours to make a path out.

And then Mamen put his knee out again, just moving around in the confined space of the snow house. He would not be going with the captain to Siberia. And now, he would not be going to Shipwreck Camp. Chafe had fallen sick with something mysterious, as had Williamson and Templeman, and now Munro and Breddy would go with Clam instead.

The next day, the Shipwreck Camp team was supposed to start out, but the weather stopped them. Mamen once again twisted his knee, knocking the troublesome cap out of its socket, and his comrades spent hours pulling and massaging it back into place.

Because Bartlett was leaving, Munro would be left in charge. Until Sandy returned—if Sandy returned—John Munro, as chief engineer, was next in line and must be left in command of the party, even though Bartlett was worried about this, and rightfully so. Munro's character was questionable. A fundamentally decent man, he was no leader. He had a tendency toward shiftlessness and underhandedness and wasn't always forthright in his dealings with the other men, and there was tremendous bad feeling between Munro and two of the scientists, Mamen and Malloch. They had been at daggers drawn with the engineer for some time, and the captain knew this could cause problems. Munro and Williamson were also at odds, which was worrisome. Williamson was coarse, headstrong, and unpredictable, and he and Munro had never been able to get along. Still, Bartlett had no choice.

The men would be free to settle where they wanted to on the island, but always remaining under Munro's charge. Bartlett divided the group into four parties and instructed each party to make a different camp, so that they would be able to hunt in separate areas and, he hoped, secure more game. He also felt smaller parties would be more manageable and that the men would be more apt to get along. With this in mind, he put some thought into the assignment of party divisions.