The Pole (18 page)

“An igloo?” I asked, pointing out the obvious. “Why is there an igloo?”

“Captain Bob stopped here last night,” Oatah said.

“Here? Why wouldn't they have gone farther?” I asked.

He gave me a strange look. “As far as he could go.”

“But it only took us four hours to get here,” I said. “Captain
break
trail.We
follow
trail.”

That made perfect sense. We'd glided through pressure ridges that they'd had to hack through. Of course we'd been able to move faster.

“Do we stay here?”

Oatah laughed. “Dogs … water … food. Then go on.”

Oatah started to undo the canvas to get the food for the dogs. I was tired, thirsty, and hungry, but I knew that the dogs came first. I went back to my sledge to take care of the huskies, as did the third member of our party, Ookeah. He didn't talk much, even to the other Eskimos, but he was always friendly and smiling.

The dogs were all lying down, but they roused when I started to undo the canvas. They knew there was a chance they were going to get fed.The majority
of the weight on the sledge was food for the dogs. They were working hard and had to be well fed to do that work. I grabbed a piece of walrus blubber and tossed it toward the huskies.They briefly fought over it before one of the bigger dogs claimed it. I grabbed an armful and made sure that each dog had at least one piece—and Lightning a second.

I had eaten blubber, but this stuff looked like it was turning bad.The dogs didn't seem to mind. I figured the huskies would eat pretty much anything that was given to them, including your fingers if you weren't careful.

As I finished, I noticed that Ookeah was unloading his sledge and bringing things over to the igloo.Why was he doing that? I thought about asking him but figured it would be better to ask Oatah. He was just finishing with his team.

“Oatah?” I asked, gesturing to Ookeah.

“Unload. Go back.”

“We're going back?” I exclaimed.

“
Ookeah
go back. We go,” he said pointing in the direction we had been driving.

“Oh … so we keep going.” That was good … at least I thought it was good.

I knew that our job was to bring out supplies, ferry them out onto the ice, but I just thought that we'd all be staying together. I sort of wanted all of us to stay together, but as long as I was with Oatah I'd be safe.

Besides, if we continued at this pace—and Captain Bartlett had moved at the same pace today as yesterday—we might catch him before the day ended.

“My dogs are ready to go and so am I,” I said to Oatah. “Can we leave?”

“Soon, soon. Not tired?”

“Not any more.” The thought of catching the Captain had eased the strain in my legs.

Oatah didn't say anything more. He walked over to his sledge and started to tie down the canvas. I did the same.

WE'D BEEN TRAVELLING
less than an hour when I began to regret leaving so quickly. Oatah was setting a fast pace, faster than I could keep up for very long. I wanted to ask him to slow down, and I knew he would if I asked him, but I couldn't do that. I had to try to stay up with him.

The ice had been mostly flat and clear.That meant that we weren't gaining much time or distance on the Captain and the others. Depending on how fast they were travelling we might actually be falling farther behind. I knew how fast George and the Captain could move. Only the Eskimos were faster. Then again, the pace Oatah was setting was as fast as anybody's, and I was keeping up with him. I felt a swell of pride. I
did
deserve to be out here. Right then, running along beside the sledge, I made a
decision. I was going to prove to everybody that it had been the right choice for me to come along. I wouldn't complain, and I wouldn't stop, even if I thought my legs were going to drop off and my lungs were on fire. And just then—right up ahead Oatah stopped. I slowed my dogs down and came to a halt right beside him.

He was perched up on his sledge, standing on his toes, staring and pointing into the distance. I tried to see what he was seeing but couldn't.

“What, what is it?” I asked anxiously.

He pointed again. I saw nothing but white in all directions. I strained my eyes. I could see, or thought I could see, a big pressure ridge up ahead.

“See?” Oatah asked.

I nodded. “Sure.” That must have been what he was looking at.

“Komatik,”
he said.

I started. I looked back toward the ridge. If there was a sledge there I certainly couldn't see it.

Oatah yelled out a command to his dogs and his team surged away. I started after him, following right in his tracks—the safest place to be.

I almost couldn't believe that he had seen something I couldn't, but I knew he had Eskimo eyes and I had white eyes. He had helped me learn to pick things out, but I'd never be able to see like an Eskimo. He probably had seen a sledge … wait …
a
komatik?
Didn't he mean komatiks, like
three
? Maybe it was just a language thing and he didn't know about plurals. No, he always said
dogs,
not
dog
. If he saw just one komatik, what did that mean about the other two?

I jumped up on my sledge, rising up on my toes to look as far into the distance as I could. I scanned the horizon. I still couldn't see anything. I jumped back down and started running. My legs were feeling heavy, but my curiosity was stronger than my sense of tiredness. Besides, if he really did see something we wouldn't have to run very far. I yelled out at the dogs to run harder and I did the same as they surged forward.

I kept my eyes on my dogs. I couldn't waste energy trying to see what was ahead and where we were going. I just had to put one foot after the other, step after step, keep going and keep up with Oatah. He knew where we were going. I only had to know where
he
was going.

Five minutes turned into ten, and then ten to twenty. We were still running. If he had really seen something, surely we would have reached it by now.

We were getting closer to the pressure ridge. It was a big one. It was hard to tell distances or size up here, especially without anything to compare things to, but I could see that it was pretty high and stretched from one side to the other, disappearing in the distance in both directions. Had they hacked their
way through the ridge or had they gone around it? And if they'd gone around, in what direction? I guess we'd find out pretty soon.

The dogs started to bark louder. They'd seen something too. I jumped back onto the runners and looked past Oatah. There it was! A sledge and a team of dogs! There was a figure out on the ice, waving his hands over his head. We were still too far away to tell who it was, but I could see there was only
one
figure.Three had set out.Where were the other two?

We got closer and closer. Who was it? I really couldn't tell … then I heard a voice calling out above the racket of the dogs. It was George! He was jumping up and down and waving and hooting and calling. Even if I hadn't heard the voice I'd have known it was George. I couldn't imagine the Captain or one of the Eskimos acting that way.

“Oatah! Danny! Good to see you lads!” George called out.

“It's good to see you, but the Cap'n … Seegloo … where are they?”

“One went that way and the other went that way,” he said, pointing in both directions along the pressure ridge. “Too tall to scale or chop through so they're looking for a way around.”

That was a relief. “How long have they been gone?” I asked.

“Close to two hours. When one of them finds a way around he'll come back. They left me here to build an igloo,” he said, gesturing to a pile of snow blocks that had collapsed onto itself.

I started to laugh.

“Can't blame you,” George said. “Pretty pathetic.

Oatah, can you help build an igloo?”

Oatah nodded his head. “Danny … dogs.”

“And while Danny is caring for the dogs I'll unload your sledges,” George said. “This will be the second stepping stone, the second cache of supplies. Hopefully we'll be all settled in by the time the Captain returns.”

CHAPTER TWENTY

MARCH 2, 1909

I WOKE
with a start, my heart racing, not knowing where I was. It was pitch-black and I couldn't see … and then I remembered. I was in the igloo. Sleeping beside me were George and Oatah. The Captain hadn't returned, and neither had Seegloo. George and Oatah had told me not to worry. All that had happened was that night had arrived before they could return and they had made camp for the night somewhere out on the ice. The Captain could make an igloo almost as well as the Eskimos. He'd be fine. They'd all be fine.And tomorrow they'd both return. One, or maybe both of them had found a route around the pressure ridge. Then the three of them would continue on and Oatah and I would go back, get more supplies, and bring them farther along the route. No problem. Nothing to worry about.

But I was still worried.

It had to be close to morning. At least I hoped it was. It hadn't been a very good night's sleep. I was continually woken up by the sounds of the ice. I'd slept onboard ship many times and was used to the noise that a ship made—the creaking and grinding of timbers—but this was different.

The ice made sounds that could be almost lulling, almost gentle and relaxing. It could be a gurgle, or a sound like a mumbling voice, or even a crackling like the sound a fire makes. But then, every now and again, the sound would explode, like a gunshot or a door slamming. I'd be jarred fully awake, scared that the ice was opening up close by or even right under our heads. Then there'd be nothing, and the loudest sound would be the snoring coming from Oatah. If he was sleeping right through it, how much danger could there be? I'd put my head back down and try to sleep again … until the next loud, unexpected sound that might signal the ice opening up.

That was the great danger. I'd heard enough stories from both the Eskimos and Captain Bartlett and Matt about leads opening up practically right under your feet. Matt even told a story about a lead opening up in the middle of an igloo while men were sleeping in it. Just like this igloo.That was the story that spooked me the most. Out on the ice you could see a lead coming, you could back off or leap over it. In an igloo you could be trapped, the lead separating you from
the door, or maybe all the ice falling on you and pinning you down or—I suddenly felt like the little room was becoming smaller, like I was having trouble drawing in breath. I had a feeling like I was suffocating. I had to go outside.

I sat up and felt around, trying to locate the fasteners so I could do up my parka. Despite the fact that the only thing between me and the ice was a single skin, and we were in a shelter made of ice, I had been feeling so warm that I'd unfastened the front of my jacket and taken off my mitts and hat, which I'd been using for a pillow. I pulled them on.The next part would be trickier. I had to get by Oatah to make it to the opening.

I got to my feet, but stayed crouched over so I didn't hit my head on the little ice dome. I took a big step, big enough I hoped to step over his sleeping form. He continued to snore. I went back down to my knees and moved the little curtain that was blocking the opening. I dropped on my belly and started to slide through. I hesitated.

I thought about how polar bears stood over top of a little hole in the ice, one paw poised in the air, waiting for a seal to stick its head up so it could be dispatched with one powerful chop. What would a polar bear think of this little hole in the ice? Would he think it was any different? I could just picture a big white sitting on his haunches waiting for me to stick my head up and—no, that made no sense. If there
was a bear anywhere near here the dogs would be going wild. I pushed through the opening.

The sun still hadn't risen but it was light enough to see into the distance.The moon was full and low on the horizon and throwing off light from one direction. In the other, to the north, I could see where the sun's rays were being reflected up from below the horizon. It probably wouldn't be much longer until the sun rose completely.

The seasons were changing so fast now that we were getting almost fifteen minutes more sunlight every day.That was great for travelling. Unfortunately, it also signalled our need to travel faster. More sun, more warmth; the more warmth, the less stable the ice was. There was only a certain amount of time to get to the Pole. Captain Bartlett called it a window opening before the door slammed shut in our faces. I thought that was a pretty silly way of saying it, but I knew what he meant. If the Pole wasn't reached by a certain date, it wouldn't be reached at all.

The dogs were all lying on the ice, curled up in little balls, their tails covering their faces. Some had chosen to sleep in groups, two or three dogs in a ball.That was for affection as much as it was for warmth. Lightning saw me and stood up. Other dogs followed. I thought they might be anxious to get moving again. Either that or they were hoping for breakfast. Maybe I could sneak a little something to my team.

All at once all of the dogs seemed to wake up.They got to their feet and started moving. Had I done that? Had I disturbed them? No, they weren't paying attention to me. They all seemed to be facing the other direction, staring, ears perked up, listening.What had they seen or heard?

I hurried over to my sledge. I pulled back the canvas and lifted up the rifle. Maybe nothing. Maybe a bear. Better to be prepared and have nothing happen than not be prepared and have something happen. I pulled back the bolt and fed a bullet into the chamber and then walked over to the dogs. All thirty were on their feet, ignoring me, staring into the distance. Whatever they'd seen or heard was beyond my ability to detect. I pulled off my hat and turned my head to see if I could hear something. There was the wind, but nothing else. The wind— maybe that was it. It was blowing from the direction they were staring. Maybe it was a smell. Oatah had told me that the dogs had noses like the bears and could smell things from dozens of miles away. If it was a bear they were smelling, I hoped it
was
a dozen miles away.