Voyage of Ice

by Michele Torrey

  I licked my lips, aware that both Garret and Dexter were lis-tening beside me, saying nothing, just listening and probably waiting to hear what intelligent thing I'd say to her to make her change her mind.

  “Uh—well,” I stammered, my face hot as a boiling trypot. “Uh—well, all right, I guess.”

  “Then it's settled. Grab your things, Nicholas. I swear my teeth are going to fall out unless I get something to chew.”

  Elizabeth and I didn't do any better or worse at hunting than any-one else. Fact was, for the next two weeks, all we had to eat between eleven people was our usual whale oil and a young seal. And we didn't even kill it. It was dead already and partially eaten by a bear, likely. The bear had peeled the skin and blubber from the seal, leaving the red meat. We cooked it and stored it frozen. It made for a couple mouthfuls a day.

  One day Elizabeth and I hacked down into a tundra pond, hoping to find fish. Took us two days, even with Dexter and Garret's help, and by the end of it, all we found in the bottom of the pond was more tundra. The pond was frozen solid. “Tundra, anyone?” Dexter had joked.

  But no one laughed. Garret just tossed down his harpoon and stomped off.

  Another day Elizabeth and I climbed over the jumble of ice ridges and prowled the sea ice, setting pieces of wood atop the ice as markers to guide us back to camp. Elizabeth, whose ears and eyes I learned were very keen, heard a breath behind her and then spotted a nose poking through the ice. “Seal,” she whispered.

  By the time we crept over, the seal was gone, the tiny hole only a circle of rippling slush. I stood poised over the hole, iron drawn back, waiting for it to breathe again. Five minutes … Ten … How long could a seal hold its breath? My muscles burned. My arm wobbled. Just as the iron began to drop, Elizabeth took the same position with her lance, her eye hungry as a hunter's, her jaw set. For many hours we took turns like that, waiting for the seal to breathe again. For the sound of exhaling. For a quiver in the iced-over slush. “It has to breathe again,” I whispered.

  “Of course it does, Nicholas.” Elizabeth's voice sounded drawn and thin. “But don't you think it has more than one breathing hole? Likely it's miles away by now.”

  It was a cold, long, seal-less, hungry, hungry day.

  It came like a thief in the night. A fox. Fur white as winter, eyes aglow in the light of the fire, it stealthily snapped up an old hen bone lying outside the shelter entrance and slipped away before either Elizabeth or I could react.

  “Hey!” I shouted. “He stole our bone!”

  “Never mind about that! Grab your iron and let's go!”

  Elizabeth was already on her feet. “Hurry, before he disappears!”

  Like tomcats after a mouse, we seized our weapons and dashed out of camp. At once, air stabbed my lungs like ice shards. A rainbow halo surrounded the Arctic moon. Stars gleamed, scattered like silver dust. The tundra was still, motionless, except for the fox that trotted fifty yards away, glancing back every few steps. Chest heaving, black spots dancing before my eyes, I deter-mined to catch him. We ran and ran, seeming to grow no closer, my legs beginning to give way, when, suddenly, he vanished.

  “Must be his den!” said Elizabeth, still running, gasping for breath.

  We hurried to where we'd last seen the fox. Sure enough, a shadowy hole gaped in the snow like an open mouth.

  “He's down there.” Elizabeth peered into the burrow, breathing hard. “Hiding.”

  “Now what?”

  She stood, holding her lance like a spear. “We dig.”

  Several hours later, we returned to camp. A group of men, including Dexter and Garret, sat round a fire, drinking whale oil and spinning yarns. At our approach, Dexter stopped midyarn and stared. They all did.

  Without a word, Elizabeth and I strode into the circle, where she cast the fox onto the ground, its throat stained crimson. She then hunched down by the fire, yanked off her mittens, and rubbed her hands over the flame. I squatted beside her, doing the same, feeling the eyes of everyone on us. Finally, she looked up, seeming surprised, as if realizing for the first time that everyone was there and that they were all staring at her. “Well, fellows, what are you waiting for? Skin the fox and fix us a meal. I'm starved.”

  A week later, long after the fox was consumed, the marrow licked and sucked out of every bony crevice, a storm blasted in from the north. All hunting parties were halted. We huddled in our shelters, freezing, bunched together for warmth. The wind shrieked through the shelter, finding every opening. Hoarfrost covered everything that wasn't flapping in the wind. The four of us lay in a row like sausages in a skillet—a frosty skillet, that is— squeezed so tight we had to roll over together or not at all. Even so, cold seeped through my clothing, through every thread, chilling my bones. My ears ached. I shook with hunger. Beside me, Elizabeth clutched the carving of her father in her mittened hand, hugging it to her chest, a distant look in her eyes.

  What if the storm continues for weeks? I wondered. What, then? Will we all die in our shelters, starved and frozen stiff? Already Sweet and Garret have scurvy, their gums swollen and stinky. Sweet's leg is drawn up so bad only his toe touches the ground as he limps about. Again, terror hunched in my chest like a ball of ice. Only now, I swear, sometimes I heard it laughing at me.

  Aye.

  Sometimes in the dead of night, when everyone was sleeping, I heard it howling with laughter. Like some ghost in the wind. Horrible and insane.

  inished, Elizabeth?” I clutched the blubber knife and ducked my head down into my shoulders. I blinked against the snow. Ice pelted my cheeks.

  “Not yet.” Elizabeth's voice came from behind me. Ever since the night of the polar bear attack, I always went with her when-ever she had to, well … do her womanly business. I turned my back and waited until she finished. Tonight she was taking a long time.

  “You still there?” I asked, speaking loudly to be heard over the wind's constant howl.

  “Don't peek.”

  I heard her teeth chattering. “Don't let the bear eat you.”

  “Very funny.”

  “Holler if he drags you away.”

  “Ha ha.”

  I stomped my feet, which were already starting to turn numb. By fire, it's freezing out here! What's taking her so long? “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Nicholas!”

  “Sorry.”

  I ran in place, thanking God for the millionth time that I wasn't built like a woman.

  “Nick—listen. Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “Listen.”

  I stopped running and bent my ear to the wind. There, faint on the wind, like a mermaid singing below the sea, was laughter. Why, it was the same laughter I'd heard many a night! Horrible and insane. “You—you can hear that too?”

  “I've heard it every night for a long time.”

  “I thought it was just me. What is it, do you suppose?”

  I heard a rustle of clothing. “I—I don't know.” Then Elizabeth was tugging my arm. “C'mon, Nick, let's go back. I don't like it out here.”

  I waited until Elizabeth was asleep.

  Then, quiet as a whisper, I got up, took the lantern, and went outside as if it were my turn to do business.

  But I had other plans.

  The wind had picked up. It sliced through my clothes as though they were made of paper. I held up my lantern, smelling the whale oil, and peered out into the darkness. Beyond my bright circle of swirling snow, I could see nothing. It was hard snow, whipped up from the ground, never melting, dry and stinging like sand. I coughed. My breath gusted white.

  After I stopped coughing, I stood and listened.

  The flap of canvas.

  The forever howl of wind.

  Icy snow prickling my coat and the lantern glass.

  The hiss of flame.

  Then, laughter.

  Chills crawled over my scalp and down my spine. By the devil. Something's out there.

  I took a deep breath,
cold searing my lungs. Grabbing a life-line and holding my lantern high, I moved in the direction of the laughter.

  Soon after Dexter and the others had arrived, Sweet had ordered a perimeter rope strung like a fence round us, fastened to timbers driven into the snow. Lifelines spread from our camp out to the perimeter like the spokes of a wheel. The enclosed area was huge, the lifelines twice the length of a ship's deck in any direction. It was so that on nights like this, we could find our way back. Now I gripped the lifeline and moved away from camp, praying I wouldn't lose my way. Or drop the rope.

  What in tunket do you think you're doing? Are you crazy? Go back to the shelter before you freeze, before you're lost forever! But I could no more stop what I was doing than I could have stopped myself from visiting Elizabeth in the captain's quarters when she was sick. It was something I had to do. I was crazy that way, I guess.

  Up ahead, I saw a light. A faint glow, a blur of swirling white. As I drew closer, something moved within the light. A human. I extinguished my lantern. If I could see him, he might see me. Darkness wrapped round me, thick and heavy. I wanted to cough but didn't dare. Again I crept toward the light, the lifeline sliding through my mittens.

  Gradually, I saw within the light. A man crouched over Thorndike's grave, a lantern and harpoon by his side.

  I moved round so I could see his face.

  It was Briggs. Wild and crazy-eyed.

  In front of him the body lay exposed, heaps of gravel and snow pushed to the side. Atop the body lay several biscuit, and as I watched, Briggs shoved a biscuit into his mouth. He chewed and laughed, chewed and laughed, afterward pulling from inside his clothes what looked to be a strip of meat. He shoved this into his mouth as well, grinning and smacking his lips, throwing his head back and laughing….

  Meat … Where did Briggs get meat? He's thawing it next to his skin.…

  With a sickening roll of my stomach, I dropped to my knees, unable to stand a moment longer.

  It was meat … fresh from the grave.

  In that instant, something moved behind me.

  I whirled, my heart in my throat.

  Elizabeth stood looking past me, her gaze fixed on Briggs. Her eyes grew large until I could see the whites all round. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened. Then a piercing scream burst from her, gushing like blood from a whale.

  I shot to my feet and clamped my hand over her mouth.

  Too late.

  Briggs was already standing, his harpoon in his hand.

  Elizabeth tore my hand away. “You murderer!” she shrieked. “You—you cannibal!” She lunged toward him, clawing the air, but I grabbed her and held her back.

  “No, Elizabeth!”

  Saying nothing, stealthy as a hunter, Briggs slipped out of the circle of light.

  “Quiet!” I said in Elizabeth's ear. With a whimper, Elizabeth ceased struggling. Except for the howl of wind, the night was suddenly silent. The hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Briggs is cutting off our retreat to camp! He's …

  I heard a movement.

  “Elizabeth, run!”

  “But I don't have the lifeline!”

  “Neither do I. Run!”

  “Where to?”

  I began to run, yanking her alongside me. “Anywhere! He's after us!”

  We fled into the darkness.

  My spine tensed, bracing for the ice-cold point of a harpoon. Terror surged like vomit. I heard the pummel of our footsteps, the swish of our clothing, Elizabeth's breathing, panicked and racing. I tasted fear, cold and metallic. Find the perimeter fence. Follow it to a lifeline and then back to camp. Hurry!

  Farther and farther. God help us! Where is the fence? We should have reached it by now! My legs began to wobble. My heart skit-tered like a rabbit's. The swirling snow dipped and rolled, and I knew my head was spinning. My knees buckled and I fell.

  Elizabeth knelt beside me.

  Once again the night was silent. My chest heaved.

  Where's Briggs? Has he lost us? Are we safe?

  Slowly, I rolled over and sat up.

  Elizabeth whispered in my ear, “Stay quiet. He doesn't know where we are.”

  One minute … Two …

  Nothing but the snow …

  The wind …

  Between gusts, I glimpsed the light, distant now. It was time to go. We struggled to our feet, holding hands. And without a word we crept back toward the light. I knew that with the perimeter fence likely blown down, it was the only way to find the camp again.

  Then, without warning, like a giant ship appearing out of the dense fog, something moved in front of us, blocking the light.

  Briggs!

  “Run!” I screamed.

  Too late.

  I saw an arm reach back. A sudden thrust forward. A har-poon released.

  “No!” I leapt in front of Elizabeth.

  But not before she exploded backward into the darkness, 'pooned through like a beast.

  o! No!

  Someone was screaming, and I realized it was me. He's killed Elizabeth! God help me, he's killed Elizabeth! Like a blind man, I stum-bled through the storm, searching for her. “Elizabeth!”

  Over the shrieking wind, I heard laugh-ter. “Oh, Bones! Oh, Bones, where are you? I have something for you as well.”

  No! No!

  Snow and tears blinded me. Again I braced for the cold stab of metal in my back. A dagger. Another harpoon. “Eliza-beth!” I cried, knowing she couldn't answer, knowing she was …

  I stumbled over something and fell hard, scraping my cheek on the snow.

  A body.

  Elizabeth's.

  I scrambled to her side.

  At the same time, I heard claws scraping.

  A huff of breath.

  A roar.

  A scream. A man's scream. “Blood and thunder, a bear! Get him off me! Get him—”

  A strangled, gurgling cry.

  Beside me, Elizabeth moved and groaned. She's alive!

  I tried to pull her to her feet. “Run, Elizabeth! Hurry! A bear has Briggs!”

  Horrified, I realized she couldn't move. The harpoon pinned her to the ice. I grabbed it and pulled with all my strength. Behind me, I heard a crunching. Like bones. My skin crawled. My hair stood on end.

  Please, God!

  Then Elizabeth was free from the ice, the harpoon still lodged in her shoulder. I heard her cry with pain. With a strength I didn't know I possessed, I tossed her over my shoulder, harpoon and all, and began to run.

  I expected to feel claws in my back, teeth on my scalp, the full weight of a polar bear upon me, my bones snapping like twigs. I heard Elizabeth gasping. My own panicked breath. I ran until the sounds of the bear faded and I heard nothing but the wind. I ran forever, until we collapsed behind a snowdrift. Elizabeth sobbing. Tears freezing on my cheeks.

  “I thought you were dead,” I finally said.

  Her teeth chattered. Her body shook. “We're lost, aren't we?”

  I didn't answer. I held her close, wishing I could protect her, knowing I was helpless. The Arctic was too powerful. We were too small. Too human. Too alone.

  “We're lost, aren't we?” she asked again.

  “Aye. We're lost.”

  Endless darkness.

  The wind, bone-numbing and relentless. Howling, howling.

  My eyes watering.

  Constant cold.

  My feet, my hands, my face, blocks of ice.

  It was a frozen hell. And us lost within it.

  “Leave me,” Elizabeth said when she could no longer walk. We huddled behind another snowdrift, trying to find relief from the wind. Already she'd walked with me for what seemed miles, both hands wrapped round the harpoon to keep it steady as I tried to support her. But finally, she'd collapsed. I'd carried her to the snowdrift. I could hardly see her. The milky white of the churning darkness surrounded us, blinding me. Her breath came in pants. “Leave me,” she said again. “I'm going to die.”

  A heaviness filled my chest. �
��No. You're not going to die, Elizabeth.”

  “Listen to me. Save yourself. I—I want you to live.”

  I pressed my cheek to hers. Tasted the salt of her tears. “Aye, I want to live, but not without you. We belong together.”

  “You—you always had a hard head.”

  “No harder than yours.” I pulled her close, wishing I could take her pain away, wishing for the thousandth time that it was me who was 'pooned instead of her. “I'll never leave you. I'll not let you die. Not while I have breath in my body.”

  “Nicholas?”

  “Yes?”

  Her mittened hand touched my cheek. “You're a good man. The kindest, nicest, dearest friend I've ever had. My—my only friend.”

  My throat clogged and I could say nothing. I held her for a long while, until the cold crept in like poison, numbing every-thing. Finally, I pushed myself to my feet. If we stayed longer, we'd freeze to death. “Elizabeth? Can you walk?”

  There was no answer. My stomach crawled with fear. “Elizabeth?” I put my ear next to her mouth, almost crying with relief when I felt a puff of warm breath. Either she was asleep, or she'd fainted. Breath burning, I scooped her up and heaved her over my shoulder. It was no easy task with a harpoon in the way. My knees trembled, wanting to buckle, but I steeled my knees, set my jaw, and began to walk.

  First one foot, then the other.

  One foot, then the other …

  One foot, then the other …

  The cold numbed my thoughts, froze the song I was singing so that I sang the same words again and again. Think, Nicholas! Think! I imagined returning home. I imagined the warm smell of a fire in the stove. I imagined Aunt Agatha telling me to set the table for supper, the taste of hot biscuits, jam, baked beans, clam chowder. I will return home. I will. Remember the cupola? One day, I'll gaze out of it again with my spyglass. I tried to picture the cupola, but it kept slipping away, a frozen thought, lost in the churning wind. I wanted to cry but couldn't remember why I was sad, or where I was, or why I carried this heavy thing over my shoulder.

  Suddenly, my knees buckled. The snow stung my chin, and my mouth snapped shut, ice in my teeth. A grunt of air spilled out of my lungs; snow clogged my ear. The heavy load on my shoulder mercifully fell off.