The Pole (24 page)

“I was just saying—”

“I appreciate your words, George,” he said, “but this is the last I want to hear of it. Our orders are to be followed, without question. Understood?”

He hesitated. “Yes … I know you are right. Sorry for the breach of etiquette. I hope my lack of judgment will not be repeated to the Commander.”
We all looked at Matt. “Nothing said here will be repeated, especially in light of the fact that I agree with your statements. Be honest, Bob, you must have felt some anger at not being included.”

“Anger is not the right word. Disappointment, yes. Sadness. I even shed a tear or two, but that's all.”

“What you did last night, this final gift of nine miles of trail, is the mark of a true gentleman. And more important, a true friend,” Matt said.

“A friend I am, but I was just listenin' to the words of our Saviour, ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.'” He paused. “Now we must all prepare for our parting.” He turned to me. “Danny, have you decided which dogs you will leave behind?”

Of course he didn't know I wasn't leaving because he'd been gone. I felt uneasy.

“Danny won't be returning to the camp,” Matt said. “The Commander has decided he will accompany us to the Pole.”

“What?” Captain Bartlett asked, sounding and looking shocked.

“Danny is the fifth member of our assault on the Pole,” Matt repeated.

The Captain's eyes burned and he opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't. He took a deep breath before he continued. “It is the right of the Commander to make such decisions.” He stepped forward and shook my hand. “Well deserved and
fittin' that a Newfoundlander should put 'is boot on the Pole.”

“Thanks, sir.” He wasn't mad. He was happy for me. Captain Bartlett turned directly to Matt. “My dear friend, I now need to ask a favour of you.”

“Anything, Bob, you know that.”

“Danny here is under the command of Commander Peary, but he is to be your responsibility. It is your duty to return him, safe, to the
Roosevelt
.”

“You have my word, Captain. Danny will be by my side regardless of the outcome.”

“I will hold you to that word, Matthew. We will ultimately meet in one of three places … Heaven, Hell, or the
Roosevelt
.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

APRIL 5, 1909

“
DANNY, WAKE UP
!” It was Matt. He was standing over me and gently shaking my arm.

I started and tried to jump to my feet, but he held me in place.

“It's okay,” he said reassuringly.

“I didn't mean to fall asleep,” I apologized.

“You needed to sleep.”

It was then that I noticed that I had a skin over top of me as a blanket.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Almost an hour. It's time to get moving again.”

I threw off the skin that was covering me and put my hand against the sledge to steady me as I rose to my feet. I picked up the second skin that had been my bed, the thin shield between me and the ice underneath. I tried to fold up the skins and tuck them back onto my sledge, but my fingers were numb and aching.

“What time is it?” I asked.

Matt shook his head. “Nine … ten … maybe midnight … I'm not sure. Does it matter?”

I shook my head. It didn't, and I was almost too tired to care. The hours all blurred together. It was like I'd imagine a desert would be like—except for the cold. A few short months ago I could only dream of sunlight as we endured constant darkness. Now I just wanted it to set and stay down long enough for us to sleep, to rest, to escape its constantly staring down on us. Not only wasn't I sure what time it was, I wasn't sure of the date, or the number of days that had passed since we'd started the final assault. It was two days … no three … it couldn't be four … not yet anyway … or was it?

Instinctively I walked alongside my team.The dogs hadn't even been taken off their leads. They had just rested, in harness, ready to move. Fifteen dogs, with Lightning still the faithful leader that I needed. Even Lightning looked tired, though. We had been in almost constant motion. Four or five hours of straight sledging, followed by a few minutes of rest, some food, and then a chance to sleep for a few hours every third march. It was no wonder I didn't know the time or day. It was all blurring together. It had a dreamlike quality. No, a
nightmare
quality. Why had I asked to come along? I just wanted to be home. Not at the base camp. Not on the
Roosevelt
. Home
in my bed in my house and … wait, I didn't have a house … I didn't have a home. Maybe at my sister's house. Was
that
my home? Was any place ever going to be home for me again?

“You ready to go?” Matt asked.

“Sure … yeah … wait … where is everybody else?”

Matt and I and our teams were the only ones there.

“Oatah and Seegloo are breaking trail and the Commander is following behind them. You just fell asleep and the Commander said we should leave you to sleep for a while.”

“You should have woken me up!”

“We thought it was better.We're all pretty close to the edge. I needed the rest as well.”

“You?”

“This is pushing us all close to the brink. Besides, we'll catch them soon enough. Then you and I will take the lead and break trail.”

“How much longer?”

“Depending on the ice conditions it might only take us an hour or two to catch up to the rest of our party.”

“No,” I said, “you don't understand. How much longer until we reach the Pole? How much farther do we still have to go?”

“The Commander last took a reading earlier today and we have travelled at least ten miles since then … so … no more than fifteen miles.”
Fifteen. I wasn't sure if I should be happy or heartbroken. Fifteen miles seemed like it was so close, but yet so far. It was two marches … maybe three.

Matt ordered his team to their feet and my dogs instinctively followed his orders. It was time to go, whether I wanted to or not. There was no way to travel south until we had finished travelling north. There was no choice.

WE HAD EATEN
some jerky and pemmican, slept, perched against our sledges and sandwiched between skins, for two hours before we had started once again. The sun traced an oval path circling the horizon.

The ice was remarkably smooth. The only ridges we'd encountered were small and we'd easily battered through them.Twice we'd come across fresh leads but even those were so small that our route only jogged over slightly to the side. The dogs were tired—we were all tired—but the sledges were almost empty. We'd been caching supplies along the way, supplies we'd use as we returned. Fifteen dogs, even fifteen tired dogs, could pull pretty fast.

As concerned as I was about us, the dogs were an even greater worry. Underneath their layers of thick fur they were starting to look thin and stretched out. A couple of dogs had come up lame—thank goodness not on my team—and had had to be
killed. I'd heard the shots but hadn't seen them fall. I was worried about Lightning. He was still the leader, but even he seemed to have lost his passion. He looked almost as tired and worn out as I felt. I wanted to jump up on the runners and let the dogs pull me along, but I fought that urge. I knew if I was running alongside that the dogs would be better able to go on.

I felt sorry for Commander Peary's team. While there were virtually no supplies on his sledge, they still had to pull him along. He was a big man and he was riding the whole way now. He couldn't run beside. He didn't even seem to be able to push to help, and they had to be suffering under his weight.

Aside from the good ice conditions that were allowing us to move quickly, his riding on the sledge was the reason they hadn't caught up to us yet. If the Commander hadn't been along, if Captain Bartlett had taken his place, we could have been at the Pole and on our way back by now. I was exhausted, and it was hard not to feel angry at him for slowing us down. I tried to put those thoughts aside—I should have been grateful for all that he'd done for me, for his kindness, for allowing me to come to the Pole. I knew it was small and petty, but still, I had those feelings.

Up ahead Matt had brought his team to a stop. That could mean either there was a pressure ridge
that needed to be hacked through or we were stopping for a bite. Either way, good or bad, I just wanted to stop. By the time I reached him it was obvious which. He had taken out the small stove and was melting snow.A hot cup of coffee would be welcome.

The second I ordered my team to halt the dogs dropped to the ice as one, exhausted. I was starting to worry more about two of the dogs in particular. They had seemed listless at our last stop and one of them hadn't even eaten all the blubber he had been given.That wasn't a good sign.

“We'll be waiting here until the others join us,” Matt said.

“But we could go farther,” I said. I had trouble believing I had just said that.

“We'll stay here.The position of the sun in the sky and the speed of our march might mean we don't have to go any farther.”

“What do you …?” I let the sentence trail off. Of course, I
knew
what he meant. “Are we here? Is this the Pole?”

“Only the Commander can tell. Only he can take a reading,” Matt said. “Technically, the Pole is an area almost a mile wide. And until he takes a reading there is no point in travelling farther. Don't you want to rest?”

“I want to lie down and not get up for a month.”

“A month you don't have.Two hours you do.Tend to the dogs, eat, and then lay your head down and sleep if you can, because you're going to need it.”

“But you said we might be at the Pole so I might not have to go any farther.”

“Even if this is the Pole, that only means you're
halfway
through your journey. We still have to get back to land.”

My heart sank. Of course I knew what he was saying was right. It wasn't that I didn't know that. It was just different hearing the words. Somehow, being so focused on the goal of reaching the Pole, I had put away the part that followed.

“Hopefully we'll be moving along a completely marked trail, but there's no telling where that trail might lead,” Matt said. “There's a greater chance of open water, or fresh leads. And even if Captain Bob marked a perfect trail, there's no telling what might happen in the days between his marking it and us reaching it. We've made it halfway, but perhaps the more difficult half is still to come.”

I couldn't bear to believe that.

“Now go to sleep, rest, close your eyes.”

I could lie down and I could close my eyes, but I didn't know if I could sleep any more.

THE DOGS
might have been tired but not so tired that they didn't raise a commotion to tell us of the
approach of the rest of the party. I had tried to sleep for the past two hours but I'd only been able to close my eyes for a few seconds before I'd been jarred awake. I felt too tired to get to sleep. My body was exhausted but my mind was racing. Excitement and fear were stronger than the exhaustion.Was it possible, were we really here? And if we were, could we get back? I almost didn't want to dream it was possible.Would that dream turn into a nightmare ? What would happen if the Big Lead had opened up again? How would we get past it? Would it close up again, or would the remaining ice simply melt underneath our feet?

As the sledges approached I heard the Commander's voice above the commotion of the dogs. I couldn't make out the words but he sounded angry. Matt came to the sledge as it stopped and the two men began talking. No, not talking—the Commander spoke with a raised voice and Matt listened. I still couldn't make out the words, though. Finally the Commander undid the canvas on his sledge and Matt walked away, toward where I stood.

“What's wrong?” I asked. I was afraid that we'd somehow gone off course or something bad had happened or—

“He was displeased because we've gone too far,” Matt said.

“You mean we passed the Pole?”
Matt shook his head. “No. Because we
reached
the Pole.”

“We're here … we're at the Pole?” I gasped. “We'll know soon enough.” Matt gestured to where the Commander stood. He was holding the sextant in his hands and lining it up with the sun. By knowing the time—he had a fancy watch—and the position of the sun he could tell our exact latitude.

“But why would he be mad if we are at the Pole?” I asked. “Shouldn't he be happy … isn't this his dream?”

“His dream is to be the
first
person to reach the Pole, not the third.”

That struck me like a slap in the face.That was right. If this was the Pole, then we were the first people here—Matt first and me second. I was the second person to reach the North Pole. Oatah was third. Seegloo fourth. Commander Peary was fifth. If this was the Pole, his dream of reaching it was complete. His dream of reaching it
first,
however, was gone forever.

I almost hoped we hadn't reached it, that the Pole was another half mile or mile away and he could lead. It was his dream, his lifelong work. He had been separated from his family for years at a time, lost eight toes, and almost his life. It just didn't seem fair that it wasn't him.

“Gather around!” Commander Peary ordered.

I looked at Matt. “I guess we're going to find out.”
Oatah and Seegloo were tending to the dogs. Slowly they came over and the four of us stood in front of the Commander.

“I have just taken readings,” he began, telling us what we all already knew. “And according to my calculations, we are now standing at latitude ninety degrees north. In every way you look the direction is south. We stand upon the nail, upon the very top of the world … on the Pole!”