The Pole (17 page)

“Thank you, sir.”

“Here is my question, Danny. Do you think that you should be coming along?” he asked.

“I'd like to come along,” I said.

“That was not my question. Do you think you should be coming along?”

I didn't know what to answer to that. I felt like there was no right answer. I stood there, my mouth open, not knowing what to say.

“Don't be afraid, Danny. Nobody means ya no harm. Just answer the Commander honestly, that's all he's askin',” Captain Bartlett said.

I hesitated for a bit longer, trying to find the words to say what I wanted to say. “I guess I know the dogs as good as anybody here, except maybe the Eskimos and Matt.”

“Better than Captain Bartlett?” Commander Peary asked.

I looked at the Captain, then back at the Commander, and again back at the Captain. “Yes, sir,” I said softly. “I've spent more time with the dogs than he 'as and I know them dogs well.”

“I think he does,” Captain Bartlett said, and my fear that I'd offended him vanished. “And he certainly is willing to protect the dogs,” he added. “Remember, it was 'im that went out in the middle of the night and shot that white bear. Could 'ave been a lot more dogs killed that night if not for Danny.”

“Thank you for sayin' that, sir. Could I ask you a question, sir?” I asked.

“Certainly,” Commander Peary said.

“No disrespect, sir, but why don't you think I should go along?”

“Your age.”

“My age?”

“You're only a lad. No older than my daughter, and I certainly wouldn't want to bring her onto the ice.”

I didn't know what I could say to that. I was the same age as Marie—it was a fact.

“Come now, Commander, you know it isn't the same. They're both fourteen, but bein' fourteen
and
from Newfoundland is a different thing,” Captain Bartlett said. “Back home a fourteen-year-old isn't a boy, he's a man.”

Commander Peary looked at me, but didn't speak. I got the feeling he was trying to see if I looked like a man. I wished I was bigger—taller or stronger—but I knew I wasn't. I looked like a boy.

“Hasn't he acted like a man?” Captain Bartlett asked.

“He has done many things that are commendable,” Commander Peary said, “but none of those change his age.”

“Danny,” Captain Bartlett said, “let me ask you a question. I noticed you don't play with the Eskimo children.Why not? Don't you like 'em?”

“Um … sure … I guess I like them … I just would rather spend time with Oatah or one of the other men, that's all. I don't feel like I have a lot in common with the children.”

“With them, or with any kids?” Captain Bartlett said. “How about the kids back at 'ome?”

I shook my head. “I guess I really don't play that much. I just feel … older.”

“Then, do you feel like a man?” Commander Peary asked.

“Well, sir, I don't really know if I'm a man, but I know that I stopped being a boy the day my mother
died.” I paused to let those words sink in—not just for him but for me. I'd never spoken them before, never thought them before, but they were true. I had stopped being a child that day.

“‘When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man I put away childish things,'” Captain Bartlett said.

Commander Peary nodded. “First Corinthians.”

“One of my favourites,” Captain Bartlett said. “Only you, Bob, would quote the Bible to convince me of a position.”

“It's called the Good Book for a reason,” Captain Bartlett said.

“Well, Danny, do you have anything more you want to say?” Commander Peary asked.

“I know, sir, that if you took me along you wouldn't be making too bad a mistake.”

“Actually, Danny, I'm beginning to think that if I
didn't
take you along I would be making a grave mistake.” He removed his mitt and offered his hand. I ripped off my mitt and we shook.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

FEBRUARY 28, 1909

I OPENED THE DOOR
of the shelter.The sun hadn't quite risen above the horizon but its rays were already reflecting up and it was light enough to see into the distance.There was a grey rim across the horizon but almost no cloud cover, so there was little chance of snow, and less of a blizzard. A blizzard would be the only thing that could stop today from happening.

As I watched, the first little curve of the sun started to rise. I stood there and drank it in. It was a beautiful sight, something I looked forward to each morning. After not seeing it for almost three full months it was like a long-lost friend returning. I didn't think I'd ever take a sunrise for granted again.

As I walked toward the dogs I was surprised to see that it looked as though every single person in the compound was up and outside and waiting. There was a lot of talking and laughter, and it felt like
people were waiting for a show to start, or a celebration, or maybe waiting to watch a parade. I guess it was a kind of parade.Three sledges and thirty dogs were going to be leaving, the first of many sledges that would leave over the next few days. Captain Bartlett was leading the first group to set out—to set out for the Pole.

The sledges and the teams were at the centre of the crowd. Captain Bartlett stood beside his sledge, George at a second, and an Eskimo named Seegloo at the third. Each had ten dogs. I was happy to see that Lightning was not amongst the dogs. He wasn't mine, and I knew that, but he was my pick for lead dog. I wanted him for my sledge team. I think the Eskimos all knew and respected that. I wasn't so sure about the other members of the expedition.

I think some of the other men really resented the fact that I was being allowed to go farther.They said I was just a kid. For sure there were a lot of bad feelings hanging around because I'd beaten them in the sledge race. I'd heard some of them say that the reason I'd done so well had nothing to do with me, that it was all because of my dogs, especially my lead dog, and if they had chosen him they might have won or placed better. I'd even heard grumblings that I'd “cheated” by going off course.The Captain put those rumours down real fast. Nobody wanted to mess with the Captain. I got the feeling that even
Commander Peary had such respect for him that he wouldn't go against him.

The Commander was standing beside Captain Bartlett.They had their heads close together and they were talking. Suddenly the Commander stepped up onto one of the sledges and raised his hands, signalling for silence.The crowd noise died instantly and all eyes were focused on him.

“My good and faithful friends and colleagues,” he began. “We are standing here not only on the edge of the Arctic Ocean but on the edge of history.Today we begin not the first step, but the next step in our journey to the Pole.Why the Pole? It is the last great geographical prize that the world has to offer to adventurous men.”

I stood there, transfixed, listening to him. Hearing him speak was like listening to music. I didn't know anybody who could make words dance the way he could.

“All of our work up to this point, all of our planning, has been designed to bring us to this moment in time. We are poised, we are now ready, to shoot forward to the Pole like a ball from a cannon!”

People cheered and clapped, and the Inuit were whistling.

I looked at the three sledges. Captain Bartlett's was different from the other two. His was practically empty while the others were piled high with
supplies. That was part of the plan. The Captain would be going ahead so he could chart the route.At times he'd probably have to use his axe and pike to chop through ridges. The other two, loaded with all the supplies the three of them and their dogs would need, would follow the route that he set.

“Captain Bartlett, along with George and Seegloo, will be leading the first leg.They will be breaking the trail and marking the way for the group that will leave tomorrow, and then my party will follow the day after that. Before they depart, I would ask Captain Bartlett to say a few words.”

Commander Peary stepped down and shook hands with the Captain, who took his place atop the sledge.

“I am just a small part of this expedition. I am so grateful—we all should be so grateful—to Commander Peary. Commander Peary is one of the bravest, noblest men who has ever lived, and it is my honour to serve under his command. It is his vision, his plannin', his dreams, his unwillingness to ever give up or give in to failure that allows us to stand 'ere today. It is in the name of Commander Peary that we will claim the Pole.”

The crowd cheered as Captain Bartlett climbed down from his sledge. People surrounded him, shaking his hand or patting him on the back or even giving him a hug. I stood at the outside of the circle and waited until the crowd thinned out. I had something
to say but I didn't want to say it in front of everybody. Finally it was just the Captain and George. I shuffled over.

“I'm gonna miss you two,” I said.

“You won't be missing us for long,” Captain Bartlett said. “You're heading out tomorrow along with Oatah.”

“Are you nervous or excited?” George asked me. “Both.You?”

“It'll be good to get moving again. The last few months have been like halftime in a football game. I'm ready for the second half.”

I sort of understood what he meant.

“I just wanted to thank you both,” I said.

“Without you two I wouldn't be goin' anywhere tomorrow.”

“You're comin' along because you earned the right to come along,” Captain Bartlett said. “You just be sure to listen to everythin' that Oatah says. I don't want nothin' to be happenin' to ya, understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And don't go takin' no unnecessary risks.”

“No, sir. I'll just do what I'm told to do.” “Good.” He offered me his hand and we shook. George gave me a pat on the back. It wouldn't be the same around here without the two of them, but with any luck I'd catch up with them in two or three days.

I watched as they returned to their sledges and did a final check, and then the Captain yelled out a command to his dogs and his team started to move. George gave me a little salute.There was a big goofy smile on his face. He looked like a little kid getting ready to open a Christmas present. He ordered his dogs to move and his sledge fell in behind the Captain's, and Seegloo's brought up the rear.

The dogs were all yapping and barking, and the dogs who weren't going along—those staked down by the shed—barked along excitedly. I'd have sworn that I could pick out Lightning's bark. He was probably upset that he wasn't going. I'd go down and see him, make sure he got an extra big meal today. I wanted him strong and ready.

I stood there, watching them drive off. They weren't just going for a short trip.They were headed for the Pole …
headed for the Pole
.That thought reverberated around in my head. Part of me wanted to be right there, right now, alongside the Captain. Part of me was grateful for another day before I had to leave this camp behind.Another part almost wanted to stay right here altogether.This camp wasn't much, but it had become home—another home I was going to leave behind.

The sledges got smaller and smaller until they blurred into one black line, and then a dot, and then finally I couldn't see them at all. The Captain was
gone. George was gone. Suddenly I felt less safe, more alone.

MARCH
1, 1909

Oatah led the way. I knew that I didn't need to watch out for the markers or for open water or for polar bears. All I had to do was keep my komatik and team following his.And I made sure that I stayed right in his tracks. Open water wasn't much of a danger. Not that I'd seen any yet—but if we did, we'd just go around it. The real danger was newly frozen leads. That was places where the ice had just refrozen and it might not be thick enough to support a team of dogs and a sledge. The dogs were, of course, in a fan pattern, so if the lead dog went in the rest would be able to pull him out.

I thought back to my one fall through the ice. It might have only been three feet deep but I didn't know that at the time. I still had nightmares about it. For me it was scary, terrifying, before it just became silly and embarrassing. But if I fell through the ice here it wouldn't be three feet deep, it would be three
thousand
feet deep. Captain Bartlett had told me they had done soundings, measuring the depth of the water, and they couldn't even find the bottom in some places along here.

I started looking at the ice between Oatah's sledge and mine. I knew this was silly. If he had passed over it,
weighed down with more supplies than I was carrying, then it would hold me. I kept looking anyway.

Just off to my right a red marker appeared. This one was a pole hammered into the ice with a small patch of brightly coloured cloth attached as a flag. In some places they had been dropping off the pemmican cans, tipping them up on their sides. In other places you could tell we were on track because the team ahead had had to hack through pressure ridges, cut a path wide enough to get the sledge through. It was reassuring whenever we came across something that showed they'd been that way and we were following behind. Oatah was a good guide, and I was told that the Eskimos could track a sledge even if there weren't any markers left. Still, there was something good about seeing the markers with my own eyes. I really liked the poles. It was like the little flags were waving hello and then goodbye. As well, the little burst of colour was a welcome relief from the relentless white of the ice and snow.

Oatah was slowing down. We'd been travelling hard for almost four hours but he had only stopped once, and that was over two hours ago.We were due for a break, weren't we? He brought his team to a halt and I jumped up on the runners to slow my team down. As I looked ahead I saw why he had stopped. There was an igloo!
I pulled hard on the leads and the dogs went to a walk and then stopped right behind his sledge. The team behind me did the same.