Trapped in Ice (19 page)

Everyone was gathered at the foot of the ridge as I joined them.

“Mr. Clements, ya went 'long the ridge in both directions, is that correct?” the Captain asked.

“Yes, sir. My party went nor'-east an' Mr. Breddy took 'is ta the sou'-west. Travelled at least ten miles in both directions.”

“Did either of ya see any changes in the ridge? Spots where she's lower or any difference in the ice?”

“Not a t'ing,” Clements answered, and Breddy agreed.

Captain Bartlett slowly nodded his head. It was just like the Captain to think through his words very carefully before he opened his mouth. I'd learned that the longer he took before he spoke, the more important the words would be. I swallowed hard.

“I think we have ta move an' we have ta move in a few different directions all at once. I want both of the komatiks unloaded, 'cept fer two days' supplies. As well, I want one of the sleds near empty. Put all the supplies inta one of the shelters.”

“What good will it do to stay here?” asked Mr. Hadley.

“No good. We aren't goin' ta be stayin' but movin' in four ways. Two men are takin' a team 'long the ridge in one direction, while two more are ta go in the other. Four others are takin' the sled back ta Shipwreck Camp an' load up more supplies.”

“That's only three directions. What's the fourth?” Mr. Hadley asked.

“Only one direction left,” the Captain said. “Up an' over. We have ta start tryin' ta make a way through the ridge.”

“Through? That's not possible, Robert,” said Mr. Hadley. “It has ta be possible. I don't think we're goin' ta find any other way. I expect the two teams ta come back without findin' any way 'round the ridge. We'll get over the ridge 'cause it's the only way we have.” He paused. “Mr. Hadley, I want ya ta decide which of the men go which ways, an' get the parties ready ta leave while I'm climbin' up the ridge.”

Mr. Hadley quickly made his decisions and the men started away with him.

“Sir, I figure ya should be takin' somebody up there with ya,” Jonnie interjected.

“Ya figured right,” the Captain answered. “I could use some help.”

“Yes, sir, I'll get my pick-axe,” said Jonnie enthusiastically as he started to move away.

“Thank ya, Jonnie, but I think we have ta figure out the best people for this job ... who should go up with me.”

Jonnie stopped and spun on his heels. The men who hadn't been taken by Mr. Hadley for the dog runs all gathered around.

“I'll take just one man with me ... don't want ta risk more 'an one other life. Ice could fold in and bury us.”

“No disrespect, Cap'n, sir, but maybe ya shouldn't be one of 'em,” stated Jonnie.

“Ya got a point ta make, Jonathan?”

“Well, Cap'n, if somethin' was ta happen ta ya it'll mean desperate t'ings fer the rest of us, sir.”

“The way's been set. Mr. Anderson or Mr. Hadley would take charge.”

“But Cap'n, I was just—”

“Enough, Jonathan, enough! A leader has ta lead, 'specially when it's most dangerous.”

“Michael! You get down from there immediately!” yelled Mother.

Every head turned. Michael was a third of the way up the mountain of ice. He hesitated for a second and then came sliding down at breakneck speed. Mother rushed over and grabbed him. She was trying to hug and swat him at the same time.

The Captain looked at Michael, and I knew what he was thinking. He walked away from the group of men towards Mother and Michael. He didn't waste any time or mince his words.

“I needs Michael ta come ta the top with me.”

“Count me in!” Michael chimed in.

“Count him out!” interrupted Mother.

“But Mother!” Michael turned to the Captain. “Can't you make her let me climb?”

“Sorry, Michael. Mothers outrank Cap'ns ... but, Mrs. Kiruk, I could sure enough use his help.”

Mother looked from the Captain to Michael and then back to the Captain. “You said it is very dangerous?”

“Yes'm. Ice climbin' is always risky ... less if the climber is light an' agile ... like Michael.”

“How dangerous?”

“More 'an anything we've done so far, but I'll be watching him. We'll be roped tagether. We have ta find a way through.”

“Couldn't you wait until the two teams come back ... maybe one of them will find a way around the ridge?” Mother asked.

“No time ta wait. If they find something then we go, but if they don't we've lost two days. We can't afford any more time ta be lost.” The Captain paused and walked the few steps between him and Mother. He spoke quietly. “Michael's life ... all our lives depend on gettin' over that ridge ... Michael, he's the best one ta do the job. Whether he climbs or stands there isn't any safe place till we have land under our feet.”
Mother loosened her grip on Michael's arm. As he started to move forward she reached out, grabbed him again and spun him around, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. Then, just as quickly as she'd hugged him, she released him.

“I have mending to do,” she said quietly, and then turned and walked away. She stopped in front of one of the crude shelters, dropped to her knees and disappeared inside. I knew she simply couldn't bear to watch what was to happen.

“Jonnie, go an' get us those pick-axes an' a length of strong rope,” the Captain ordered.

“Aye, aye, sir.”

Michael was staring straight ahead at the pressure ridge, studying it. I knew he was trying to determine the best place to the top. I also knew he wasn't harbouring any fear or uncertainty. Michael just knew he could do it, and despite my fears, I knew he could too.

“Don't do any good ta worry, Helen,” said the Captain.

“I know ... but what else do I have to do?”

“Watch us climb,” he said.

“I don't like to watch Michael when he climbs. It makes me all nervous.”

“Nervous or not, I need ya ta do a job. Keep an eye on us. If the ice collapses, if it comes down on top of us, people have ta know where ta dig.”

“Where to dig?”

“Yep. Dependin' on how tight the ice is packed, we can live for maybe five or ten minutes buried under the ice. They have ta know where ta dig. If they can't get us out
fast it's just a waste a time. There's no point in diggin' us up just ta bury us again.”

I felt my heart rise up into my throat. Before I could swallow hard enough to talk, Jonnie returned with the equipment. Captain Bartlett had to call Michael back. He had already started climbing the ridge again. Jonnie held up one of the ice-picks and a coil of rope. Michael slid back down the slope.

“This is going to be fun!” he exclaimed as he stopped before us.

Jonnie handed him one of the picks and then threaded the rope around his waist, tying it tightly. The Captain tied the other end around his waist. He looked up at me.

“Keep watching us, Helen.”

Roped together, they moved off to the ridge.

I watched them as though their lives depended on it, because I knew that maybe they did. Quickly the length of rope was played out as Michael scaled and scampered up the ice and the Captain was left behind. Michael moved back and forth, at times going sideways across the face of the ice, finding the best route to the top. He never slipped, or even slowed down until he got so far ahead the rope between him and the Captain grew taut and held him back like a kite that had run out the whole spool of string. He was almost halfway to the top. That seemed like the very worst place to be, neither safe at the bottom nor safe at the top.

I remembered when I was young and my parents had taken me to a travelling carnival. They thought it would be great fun for us to ride on a Ferris wheel. We climbed into that swinging basket, me in the middle sandwiched
between them. I couldn't have been any more than four, but I remember it clearly. Up until the time I faced the polar bear, I don't ever remember being that scared— swinging in that little seat, suspended in the air, twirling around helplessly. Even when they began to let people off, the wheel kept starting and stopping repeatedly. I didn't think we'd ever get down. I remember burying my face into Father and suddenly feeling so safe and protected. I wished he was here now to protect me.

My eyes stayed focused on the climbers. The Captain laboured far below Michael. He swung his axe to gouge out hand- or footholds in the ice. I gasped as I saw him slip, more than once, and then regain his hold. Slowly he crept forward until he got close enough for Michael to start climbing again. Finally, Michael disappeared over the top and I had a rush of fear. Almost immediately, though, he reappeared, and waved at me from the very top. I waved back. Within a few minutes the Captain was standing right beside him. They both waved as they moved over the edge and out of sight.

 

 

Chapter Twenty-Four

C
AREFULLY I HELD THE CANDLE
underneath the bottle of ink. My hand was shaking, strained from all the hard work, and I couldn't hold it steady. The flame brushed against my fingers, but they were so numb from the cold there was no pain. I rolled the bottle and could feel it becoming liquid again. I put the candle aside.

 

March 5, 1914

Dear Diary,

I'm sorry for my shaky handwriting but it's hard to hold the pen. My fingers and my arms are aching terribly from all the digging and my knuckles are scraped and raw from where the ice has cut and rubbed and worn away my skin. We dug for five straight days, clearing a trail for the sleds over the pressure ridge. I guess I really should say the pressure ridges, because there wasn't just one, but dozens and dozens. They're stacked together just like a mountain range. Some of them were pushed together into flat plateaus, while between others there were valleys and gaps. Luckily, some gaps ran right through a couple of the ridges so we didn't have to climb them.

The first day was the worst. More than half the men were still out on the sleds and we were cutting the trail up the side of the ridge. I wanted to stop. I think everybody wanted to quit, but the Captain wouldn't let us. Time and again he'd offer encouragement or raise hopes. Once he yelled at the men. They'd stopped working, convinced we couldn't break through, and decided we should wait until the scouting parties returned. The Captain was angrier than I'd ever seen him. He rained down a storm of curse words. I've heard rough talk from the miners Father worked with but I've never heard such language before. I was shocked, maybe more so because it was coming from the Captain. He grabbed one man roughly by the collar and drove him back to work. I knew he would never treat me that way, but I dug down a little deeper, working even harder, just to make sure I wouldn't make him angry.

Digging the trail went very slowly. The men took turns at the front, using axes and ice-picks to chop through the ice. As the wall collapsed, the rubble would be pushed back and used to fill in the holes and gaps. That was one of my jobs. All we needed was a path just wide enough for the biggest sled to pass through. The second day of digging was our best. We were able to clear almost three hundred yards.

On the fourth day the sled returned from Shipwreck Camp, loaded with enough supplies to make up for those we'd used getting through the ridges. Before they'd even unloaded, the first of the komatiks also returned. They'd travelled out over forty miles and there was no sign of the ridge stopping. They reported, as the Captain had thought, that there was no way around it. Later that day the second komatik returned with the same news. That report sent a shock wave through everybody, but doubled our resolve to dig. It was just as the Captain had said: dig or die.

On that fifth day, with the last of the twilight still shining, the final section was broken down and we found ourselves back on the ice. The pressure ridges had been defeated, but had it slowed us down so much the ice would melt under our feet before we reached land? Maybe we'd gotten through this one set of ridges but what was to say there wasn't another, or two or three, still up ahead?

I don't even want to think about …

 

The ink had frozen solid again. I had more to write but I was too tired to even think about it.

 

“E
VERYBODY TAKE A REST
!” the Captain yelled out.

I loosened the line from around my waist and rested against the sled. Since I was in the shade I slipped off my goggles, but the brilliant light blinded me and I had to put them back on. There was a chill in the air but the hard work combined with the high, hot sun caused sweat to trickle down my sides. I loosened the clasps on my parka to let in some air.

The sun shone down on us for more than twelve hours a day and each day was twenty minutes longer than the one before. By midday, the surface of the ice was soft and we often stumbled into knee-deep slush. There were small puddles of water everywhere.

“Here, take this.”

I looked up at Jonnie, holding a canteen. I took it and tipped it to my mouth. The water tasted wonderfully sweet.

He sat down beside me. “Bad ice.”

“It's always bad ice. Day after day, bad ice. There hasn't been any good ice since we hit the pressure ridge. Eight days of bad ice and yesterday was the worst.”

“I 'eard we only done seven miles yesterday.”

“Seven miles! We travelled a lot farther than that, I'm sure!”

“Travelled lots more 'an seven miles but only seven miles tawards the island. Today's been better ... leastways I t'ink it has. It's hard ta say how far we's movin' forward with all the ziggin' and a zaggin' round we 'ave ta do.”

I knew what he meant. Not only was the ice rough but it seemed as though our path continually crossed small ridges. The Captain would set a course to avoid those that he could, but sometimes we'd have to travel more than a mile to find a way around.