The Pole (7 page)

Sometimes people did go out on the ice.They used axes and gigantic metal pry bars to chop and hack and create a little channel of open water for us to force our way through. Once, they even resorted to using a dynamite charge to blow up a place where the ice had rafted together and was too thick to chop through. There was a tremendous explosion and pieces of ice rained down from the sky.

I hadn't seen much of the Captain since we'd left Etah, ten days ago, but I'd certainly heard him. He was practically living up in the crow's nest, scouting out the best route, scouring the horizon, looking for little
seams of open water or places where the ice wasn't as thick. Angus had explained to me that newly formed ice was a different colour—or actually a different
tint,
more blue than white. I couldn't really see that much of a difference but the experienced sailors could— especially Captain Bartlett. He could just tell.

“Danny!” Angus yelled out. He was holding two shovels. “Give us a 'and, mate.”

I ran over and grabbed the second shovel. I had expected I might have lots of different duties on this trip, including shovelling snow. But I hadn't expected to be shovelling what I knew I was about to be shovelling. I followed Angus to the aft deck, which was entirely filled with dogs—two hundred and twenty-six sledge dogs.There was practically no spot on the deck that wasn't filled with a dog—or dog crap.That was what the shovels were for.We had to continually push it overboard. Angus said if we didn't he figured the weight of it would capsize the boat. I knew he was kidding me, but it was still amazing how much there was.

“Quite the stink, ain't it, boy?” Angus said.

“Worst thing I ever done smelled.”

“Can ya imagine how much worse it would be if we wasn't doin' this a few times a day?” he said.

“Don't want to imagine that.”

“I'll start toward the front an' you starts at the back, boy,” Angus ordered.

I nodded and carefully tried to wind my way through the crowd of dogs. I didn't want to be stepping on anything I shouldn't, but my bigger fear was coming too close to one of the bad-tempered dogs. There had been more than one person bitten, and I'd had a couple of close calls myself, including having one dog rip a piece out of the seat of my pants.Thank goodness it hadn't ripped a piece out of
my
seat!

At first the dogs had all looked pretty much the same to me, but now I could tell many of them apart. I certainly knew the ones that were to be avoided, and which ones were gentle and friendly. I'd taken to bringing out extra scraps from the galley and feeding the nice ones.

As bad as the smell was, the noise was almost as terrible. The dogs could bark up a storm. And there always seemed to be one or two of them snarling or yelping or snapping at the others.

The funniest thing I ever saw involved the dogs and a big seal. The seal had heard the dogs barking and kept following after the ship, barking out his own challenge. The dogs closest to that side of the ship leaned over the railing and barked back. I think a couple would have jumped overboard if they hadn't been tied up.The racket went on for close to an hour before one of the crew got out a gun and took a shot at the seal. He didn't hit it, but the seal got the message and swam off.

I pushed a big shovelful of crap off the side of the boat and it disappeared into the foamy, greenish water.This was not the job I wanted to be doing. Up above, in the rigging, members of the crew were moving around like a bunch of spider monkeys, adjusting the sails to try to capture more of the wind. We needed the steam engines
and
the sails to give us enough power to break through the ice. Ever since first going up there to bring the Captain his supper that time, I'd gone up a dozen more times. I still couldn't move with the skill or confidence of the rest of the crew, but I was getting more comfortable, and if I wanted to be a sailor then I had to learn.

Off to my left, Ellesmere Island loomed large and ominous. It seemed to be nothing more than high cliffs and barren rock. I'm sure there was more, but from the ship I couldn't see life—not plant or animal. We'd been paralleling the shore for the last three days. There was a small lead—in many places narrower than the ship—that seemed to be following the shore. Angus had explained that this was the spot where the meltwater from the island met the ice and formed a river through the freezing ocean. I didn't know if that made sense, but I did know that it was the route we were travelling.

I used my shovel as a shield and a prod, forcing some of the dogs to move out of my way as I continued to work. One of the dogs I liked—I called him
Blackie—wagged his tail at me but didn't move. I reached into my pocket and rummaged around for a treat. I found a little piece of biscuit.

“Sit!” I ordered.

Blackie cocked his head to the side, looking at me like he was trying to figure out what I was asking for.

“Better speak to 'im in Eskimo talk if ya wants 'im ta listen ta ya,” Angus said.

“Maybe that's the next word I should learn.” “Maybe what we should do is stop feedin' 'em. If they don't eat, they can't crap,” Angus suggested cheerfully.

“I don't think this little bit will matter,” I said. I tossed the biscuit into the air and Blackie jumped up and caught it, his jaws coming together with an ominous snap. Nice or not, I wasn't putting my fingers too close.

Bit by bit, together, Angus and I finished clearing off the deck. It was still slippery and smelly and disgusting, but certainly a lot better than it had been before we started.We secured the shovels to the back wall of the aft cabin. I wanted to go and rinse off my boots, and maybe have a hot chocolate in the galley to try to wash the taste out of my mouth.

As I rounded the aft cabin I caught sight of Matt standing by the rail. I walked over to join him, wondering what he was watching. Without me asking, he pointed out to the ocean.

“Whales,” he said.

“Where?”

“Watch that open patch of water off to starboard.”

I scanned the ice until I located the lead. It was a long gash of green water amongst the white ice, but I didn't see anything—and then three fins broke the surface! I saw a little wisp of steam rise up as they all exhaled.

“I see them!” I exclaimed.

“Keep your voice down,” he warned me. “As long as nobody notices they're out there, then nobody will try to kill them.”

I understood what he meant. It seemed like every time we passed a seal or a flock of birds or anything one of the expedition members would take a shot at it.

“People from the south see an animal and they think they should kill it,” Matt said.

“Don't you hunt?” I asked.

“I hunt when I need to survive, just like the Eskimos. No shame in killing an animal to feed yourself or your family. I just don't see it as sport. You want to make it fair, then give the whale a gun so it can return fire.
That
would be sport.”

I had to laugh. Matt made me laugh.

“An Eskimo kills a seal and he uses everything— meat, blubber, skin, bones—everything. I admire that. A white man takes a shot at some seal on the ice. Maybe he wounds it, maybe he kills it, but it
slips back into the water and is gone.” He shook his head. “Just a waste.”

I guess I'd never thought of it that way before, but it sounded as though Matt had thought about it a lot.

“I see you're spending a lot of time with the huskies,” he said.

“I don't have much choice. Somebody has to clean up the mess,” I told him.

“Sure, but I've seen you down there patting the dogs, spending time with them even when you're not cleaning.”

“I like dogs. Some of them are nice.”

“Most people can't tell one husky from another. For them, all sledge dogs look the same,” Matt said.

“But they're nothing alike.They're all different.”

“How about our Eskimo guests?” Matt asked.

I shrugged. “I'm sure they can tell them apart.”

Matt laughed. “I mean, can you tell the Eskimos apart, or do they all just look alike to you?”

“I can tell some of them apart,” I said. I definitely could tell the men from the women and the children from the adults.And there were lots of them—forty-nine Eskimos. Twenty-two men, seventeen women, and ten children. I hadn't expected there to be women or children along, but they were all part of a large family group—brothers and sisters, uncles and cousins. I guess it made sense for whole families to come along.We were going to be gone for the better
part of a year—maybe two if the ice locked us in— and it would be hard to be away from your family that long … the way I was always going to be away from my family.

I suddenly felt very sad and very alone.

“There's no point in me teaching you Inuktitut if you're not going to use it,” Matt said. “Come, I want you to meet some more friends of mine.”

I followed Matt and we made our way toward the foredeck—away from the dogs and their stink, with a stiff, fresh breeze blowing into our faces.

All of the Eskimos were on the foredeck. They were
living
out there.There was space for them down below in the hole, but they didn't want to live below decks.They hardly ever even
went
inside.

Some of the children, including a couple who were about my age, were in a group playing a game. It was sort of like a game of dice, with the dice made out of animal bones. I'd been invited by the kids to play their games before, but I was always too busy with work. Besides, I didn't feel much like a kid.

A number of the women were sitting, sewing skins together. Some people were leaning against the railing, looking out at the water and ice.There were five men squatting in a little circle. I'd noticed how they often squatted, on their feet, legs bent, backs straight, balanced, rather than sitting. They were talking and smoking and talking.

“Ai!”
Matt called out, and I said the same as they called out their greetings.

Two of them shuffled over to the side, creating a space in the circle. Matt squatted down to join them and motioned for me to do the same. I tried to squat down the same way everybody else did and almost lost my balance, nearly tumbling backwards before I settled in.

Matt said something and the men all chuckled. I guess he told them a joke—or were they all laughing at me almost falling over?

Matt spoke again and now the men nodded their heads in agreement.

“Learn Inuktitut … good boy,” one of the Eskimos said as he reached out and tapped me on the leg.

“Thanks.”

“You help?” Matt asked the man.

He nodded. “Help, yes.” He turned to me. “Help Oatah learn English?”

I didn't understand what he meant.

“That is Oatah,” Matt said. “He wants you to help him learn English and he'll help you to learn Inuktitut.”

“Oh, yeah, sure,” I said, nodding my head enthusiastically.

Matt said something else in Inuktitut and all five men smiled and nodded. The man beside me patted me on the back.

The ship suddenly shuddered to a stop and I almost tumbled over again. Matt reached out and grabbed me by the arm, stopping me from falling.

Obviously we'd hit a thicker piece of ice and … now there was no sound. All the time we moved we could hear the sound of the ship breaking through the ice. It was such a constant that I only noticed it now because it was gone. There was just silence. I couldn't hear the engines working, but I could feel them pulsing up through the deck, vibrating up into my body.

I stood up, as did everybody else, and we made our way to the railing. I looked over the side and toward the bow. The lead we had been following had vanished, replaced by a ridge of rafting ice and a sheet of solid ice stretching out to the horizon.

The still air was split open by Captain Bartlett, yelling from the crow's nest. His words were directions and orders, littered with a healthy dose of profanity. I figured even if the orders didn't succeed in freeing up the ship the swear words might melt a path in the ice.

“How far are we from Cape Sheridan?” I asked.

“No more than forty miles,” Matt replied.

I was almost afraid to say what I was going to ask next because of what he might answer, but I really needed to know.

“The Cap'n can get through this, right?” I asked.

“If anybody can, he can. He might have to send out a crew to chop or pry or blast, but we're not done … at least, not yet.”

“But he might not be able to get us all the way to the Cape?”

“He did it the last time. He pushed the ship to the limits, demanded almost more of her than was possible. Just hope he can do it again.”

“Why wouldn't he be able to do it?”

Matt gestured with his arms. “The Arctic is wild and unpredictable and so massive that it makes any man seem small and insignificant and powerless. Even a man like Captain Bartlett or Commander Peary. If this can be done, those men will do it. I just don't know if it can be done.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

SEPTEMBER 5, 1908

I PULLED DOWN THE HOOD
of my parka. Standing at the farthest point forward on the bow of the ship, I leaned over the railing. It was incredible to watch as the hull of the ship ate up the ice and churned it into splinters and shards and bouldersized chunks, while greenish-blue water sloshed over the surface and smoothed our passage. I knew the ice couldn't be very thick—not just because we were able to push through it, but because of the look of it. I could tell by the tint of the ice if it was thick or thin.

Oatah had taught me about the ice. He'd been teaching me a lot of things. When I wasn't on duty or sleeping I'd spent all of the last few days up on the deck with him. Oatah was always trying to explain things to me, gesturing and pointing, using words that I didn't understand to describe things that I often couldn't even see. He'd be gesturing excitedly,
pointing into the distance, and all I could see was ice. Then, if I was patient, as we got closer to the object, or the object got closer to us, I could make things out. Sometimes it was birds flying just above the horizon, or seals on the ice, or once, a big polar bear lumbering along the ice.