Read Trapped in Ice Online

Authors: Eric Walters

Trapped in Ice (11 page)

BOOK: Trapped in Ice
11.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

I couldn't contain myself and a whimper escaped my lips. Had anybody heard it? What would they think of me for crying?

“It's all goin' ta be all right,” Captain Bartlett said, his voice cutting through the lonely darkness. “It's all goin' ta be all right ... just put your mind someplace else ... think of a warm an' happy place ... an' let yourself go visitin' there ... it'll be fine in the end ... just fine.”
I didn't have to strain to think of a place. I closed my eyes and I was sitting on the bed in my old room, propped up on pillows, reading a book, with a cup of tea on the bedside table. I surrendered to the dream.

 

 

Chapter Fourteen

“ ... A
N' KNEW HER NOT TILL
she had brought forth her firstborn son; an' he called his name Jesus.” The Captain paused. “An' that is our Bible readin' from Matthew, Chapter 1, verses 18 ta 25. Could we all bow our heads in prayer fer the birth of the baby Jesus that took place on this day, in Bethlehem.”

I lowered my head. There was silence save for the roar of the wind. I tried to pray, but my mind was caught by the distance and differences between the place of Christ's birth and the place where I stood.

“Amen,” Captain Bartlett said loudly and echoes of “amen” came from every corner of the packed galley. Almost instantly people started filing out through the door. There was hardly a word spoken. Looking into the solemn faces of the men I could see a few close to tears.

I followed Michael and Mother. When we reached our cabin, we quickly prepared for bed. Even Michael didn't seem to have anything to say as he readied himself.

This was so different from any other Christmas I had ever experienced. The Captain had tried to fill us with the Christmas spirit. He'd organized the church service, carol singing, and even had Cookie prepare a special Christmas feast, but there was nothing that could drive away the
feeling of loneliness or the sound of the wind outside the walls of the ship.

My thoughts went back to the last Christmas we'd spent together as a family. Father had been sick for months but he seemed to be much better. He was still very thin and stooped over but he was happier. He'd gone out with Michael and cut down the biggest tree that could fit in the room. It tired him out so much he had to lie down and sleep after returning home. Mother had trimmed it with tinsel and balls and cranberries and popcorn on a string and put a few candles on the tree. It looked beautiful. Under the tree were presents; but not many because the medicine and doctoring costs had been so great. The air was filled with the smell of the pine tree and the candles and the Christmas pudding simmering on the stove. We went to church Christmas Eve and I sang in the children's choir. That night when we were tucked into bed I knew, just knew, everything would be all right, that my prayers had been answered, and things would be back to the way they were, that Father would be okay. Three days later he died. Mother said that he wanted to have one more Christmas with us and we should be grateful his last wish was granted.

I was startled out of my thoughts by a knock on the door.

“Come!” Mother called out.

The door inched open and Captain Bartlett peeked in. “Sorry ta disturb ya, ma'am,” he said quietly, “but I have somethin' for the children.”

My ears perked up and Michael sat up on his bunk. He came into the room and closed the door behind him.

Under one arm he carried two parcels. They were covered in cloth held together with pins. He handed the smaller of the two parcels to Michael and the other to me.

“This is very nice of you, Captain,” said Mother.

He looked like he was going to blush, although it would be hard to tell since the only exposed parts of him, his cheeks, were weathered and red already.

“Ya goin' ta open 'em or just gawk?” he asked.

Neither of us needed any more prompting. Michael tore into the wrapping. Before I'd even taken the first pins out of my wrapping he was waving his present in the air.

“Thank you, thank you so much!” he screamed. He was holding a brass telescope, one that I'd seen before on the bridge of the ship. “It's wonderful!”

I removed the cloth from my present and there was a wooden box. I recognized it instantly. I undid the latch carefully, and opened the box to reveal the graceful figures of the carved chess pieces. Sixteen white and sixteen black men all sitting proudly in their spots. I looked up at Captain Bartlett.

“I hope ya like yer present as much as Michael likes his.”

“I ... I ... don't know what to say....”

“These are such generous presents, Captain. Not necessary in the least,” Mother said.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Kiruk. 'Sides, I thought these things were meant for your children. A telescope 'cause Michael is always tryin' ta see inta the future, always climbin' the riggin' ta see what's ahead. An' the chess set fer Helen 'cause she's always thinkin' things through. Besides, I've seen she was partial ta these pieces.”

“But ... but I can't take it,” I said.

“I thought ya'd like 'em,” he answered, sounding confused.

“I do, I do!”

“Then, why?”

“It's just that ... well, I mean ... it's just I know how important these chess pieces are to you.”

“They's just pieces ... nice pieces, but nothin' more.” “But ... we didn't get anything for you.”

“Ya surely did. Watchin' ya both open your presents made me think about Christmas back home in Brigus with all my nieces and nephews. That memory was a nice present ta give me.”

“Captain, may I ask you a question?” Mother asked. “Sure thing, ma'am.”

“I was wondering if you were still angry at me for bringing the children on the voyage.”

“Angry at you? No ma'am, can't say I'm leastways angry at you, but I am angry. Even more than before.”

“At who? Who are you angry at?”

“At myself. Never should have let your children come aboard. Whatever happens is all on my shoulders.” He paused. “But enough ... not tanight. A merry Christmas and good night ta ya all.”

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

T
HE STORM HAD BEEN RAGING HARD
for almost twenty-four hours. Strong winds and blowing snow had made it impossible to see any more than a few feet away even at midday, and now, as the high moon set, it was like a wall of white. Michael wanted to go out and help with the dogs, something we did every afternoon, but we weren't allowed. Nobody was allowed to leave the ship. It was too dangerous to travel even the few feet from the ship to the ice shelters.

I had no wish to go outside. It was so much better to lie on my bunk and read. Our cabin was feeling more and more like home. The Captain had lent me a book about gardening. He had a wonderful collection of books and he invited me to borrow one anytime I wished. I was so grateful since I'd long ago exhausted the supply of books we'd packed for the voyage. It struck me as strange to be reading a book on planting a garden when the nearest living blooming plant was over a thousand miles away.

Suddenly I felt the ship shudder. It was a long, low vibration that seemed to move from one end of the vessel to the other. There was a strange noise, different from anything I'd heard before. It sounded like an orchestra being tuned up. It surprised and scared me. Since the
weather had gotten colder the ship seemed to have become just part of the ice pan and hadn't moved or shifted for weeks. I put down the book and hurried from the cabin.

Stepping into the corridor I almost bumped into Captain Bartlett, who was moving quickly in my direction.

“Where's your brother an' mother?”

“I saw Michael in the galley and I think Mother is working in the shop.”

“Go an' get her, an' then get ta the galley,” he ordered. Without even breaking stride he continued down the corridor, past our cabin.

“But Captain, what is—”

“No time for questions, Helen, just do as ya was told!

Now!” he barked harshly. Without even turning around he raced around the bend and was gone. I stood there, stunned.

Suddenly the ship lurched violently. I lost my footing, stumbled and braced myself against the wall. I think I had the answer to my question. I raced along the corridor and started down the stairs. As I grabbed the railing, I heard footfalls against the metal and caught sight of Mother rapidly climbing up. Even in the dim light of the lamp I could see she was worried.

“Helen?”

“You have to come, right now, to the galley. I think something is happening to the ship, something bad,” I answered.

“Where is your brother?”

“I think he's already in the galley. That's where I left him earlier today.”

“You go to the galley. I'll go back to the cabin, just to make sure he hasn't gone back there looking for us.”

“But, Mother, Captain Bartlett said we were to go to the galley, immediately.” I tried to impress upon her the urgent nature of things.

“Sorry, dear, a mother doesn't have to listen to anybody when her children are involved. Besides, I think you might be needing your mukluks,” she said, pointing down at my feet.

I looked down. In my rush to leave the cabin, I hadn't even realized I was in my stockinged feet. Mother put her hands on my shoulders, spun me around, and gave me a small push. “Now go!” I took the first few steps up the stairs, and then stopped and watched her head back for our cabin.

Entering the galley I was relieved to see Michael. He was sitting at the table, a plate of cookies in front of him. All around him was almost everybody else in the expedition. I knew Kataktovick and the other two Inuit were already on the ice. They'd taken to living there, with the dogs, to protect them from a polar bear attack or in case the ice opened up. Also missing from the meeting were Captain Bartlett, his first mate and a couple of members of the crew.

Before I'd taken a seat, Mother entered, carrying my mukluks and an armful of clothing. Captain Bartlett entered right behind her and the noisy conversations drained away to silence. I pulled on my boots while everybody waited for him to speak.

“The ice that has been raftin' durin' this storm has hit us mid-ship. We've been twisted an' lifted an' turned an'
holed. Twelve-foot hole, below the waterline. Only thing stoppin' us from sinkin' is that we're sittin' on the ice that holed us. Soon as the ice shifts back, the ship will go ta the bottom.”

“Surely you can close the bulkheads or seal off the compartments or do something to keep the ship afloat!” declared Dr. Murray.

“Wish it was that easy. The hole goes inta both main holds. Besides, sir, the timbers all up an' down the ship have been twisted, some splintered an' a couple snapped right off in two. She's goin' down. Can't waste any time tryin' ta stop what can't be stopped. 'Stead we have ta use the time we have ta salvage what we can an' get it onta the ice.”

Dr. Murray stood up and then cleared his throat as though he was going to speak.

“Something ya was wantin' to say?” Captain Bartlett asked.

He shook his head and sat back down.

Captain Bartlett pulled out his pocket watch. “It's 17:35. Ya all have till 18:00 hours ta gather tagether your belongin's an' assemble by the aft hatchway. It's time ta abandon ship.”

“What sort of things should we be bringing?” asked Mother.

“Things ya'll be needin' for the ice. If ya can't eat it, wear it, or burn it ... forget it.”

People scrambled out of their seats and started pushing towards the door.

“One more thing!” the Captain called out and everybody froze. “If ya hear the ship's bells ringing, drop what
you're doin' an' get ta the deck right away. The bells will be tellin' ya that she's going down ... now.”

 

M
ICHAEL AND MOTHER
moved around the room, packing, while I just stood and stared. I knew we had to hurry but I felt myself slowing down. A few short weeks ago I'd hated this cabin but now it was like my home. It was safety and warmth and a place to hide from the ice and snow and freezing cold. I could just lie on my bunk and read a story and escape. Now it was being taken away. Something else being taken away.

“Come, Helen, it's almost time,” Mother said quietly.

I broke out of my trance. Carefully I placed my chess set and a few pictures into the bag with my clothing. Next I rolled up my sleeping sack and tied it with twine. Michael was already waiting in the corridor and Mother was standing at the door. As I walked over she moved out. I grasped the handle, took one look back, and closed the door behind me.

By the time we reached the hatchway the corridor was crowded. The Captain stood by the hatch. Suddenly it opened and Jonnie came in, pushed by a wave of wind and snow. Somebody pulled the door shut behind him.

“That's some terrible storm.”

“Jonathan ... ya done your job?” asked the Captain.

“Yes, sir, Cap'n.”

The Captain nodded approvingly. “Jonathan has strung out a guide rope from the ship right ta the ice shelters. Don't just keep an eye on the line ... keep a hand on it. Mrs. Kiruk, Helen and Michael, leave your things here. Ya
go in the first group. Jonathan ... Mr. Hadley ... I want the two of ya ta go with 'em ... make sure of things.”

Jonnie led the way, pushing the hatch open. I lowered my head and braced myself against the rush of wind. Hitting the deck I stopped and looked around. My face stung from the driving snow and I had to fight to keep my eyes open. I couldn't see anything beyond the back of Jonnie's parka hood.

“Keep moving!” Michael yelled over the howl of the wind as he bumped into me from behind. Michael moved past me and as I started forward again my feet slipped. A pair of hands grabbed me roughly around one arm and pulled me up. I looked up and recognized Jonnie. He kept hold of my arm and we walked, side by side, along the deck. Despite the bitter cold I felt a surge of warmth underneath all my clothing—I was blushing. I was grateful for his support as we came to the stairs and started down on the ice. The bottom of the stairs, only fifteen feet below, was completely obscured by the snow. Michael, a few steps ahead, was a faint outline and Mr. Hadley, somewhere in front, was invisible.

BOOK: Trapped in Ice
11.42Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Forgiven by J. B. McGee
Diana by Carlos Fuentes
Under My Skin by Laura Diamond
An Imperfect Process by Mary Jo Putney
Black Easter by James Blish
One Hundred Twenty-One Days by Michèle Audin, Christiana Hills
Magic Moment by Adams, Angela
Damaged Goods by Stephen Solomita