Chapter IX

She came directly to me in the morning. Sleep had calmed her somewhat. She was cool, but determined. In her hand she held a packet of papers, sealed with the seal of the E.U.

"Your orders," she said briefly and turned to leave the cabin.

"One moment," I said. "You others, kindly leave us. Sausalito, remain."

She sat down limply.

Plock grinned malevolently as he thumped up the companion-way. He knew what was coming, the blackguard.

As I took the packet I saw at a glance that the seal had been broken and clumsily repaired.

Walking to the hatchway I closed it.

"Where did you get these?"

"I f--f--found them," she stammered.

"Sausalito," I said gently, "you lie."

My tenderness disarmed her. Throwing herself on her knees she burst into a flood of hysterical weeping.

A MOMENT MUSICAL

It is not surprising that Triplett and Traprock were amused by the
reaction of Yalok, the Klinka maiden, to the miracle of the radio.
The author tells us that the "_morceau_" picked-up at the moment
this photograph was taken was a harmonica-solo by F.P. Adams of New
York. Mr. Adams holds all records for plain and fancy harmonica-work,
triple-tonguing, echo-effects, vox-humana and choir-invisible. The
_maestro_ was accompanied at Newark, by D.T. Smeed on the pianoforte.
Had the great artists known the joy they were bringing to the far-off
ice-maiden, while they could not have put their backs into their work
more thoroughly, they would doubtless have felt more amply repaid
than they did when they left the offices of the Westinghouse Company.

The number tried and rendered on this particular occasion was
Tristan's song from Der Erl-Kœnig, the immortal lyric beginning:

"Childe Hassam to a dark tower came," and ending with that pathetic
musical fiasco

"Placing the slughorn to his lips,--
He blew!"

The hitherto-unheard and unheard-of sound of a B flat slughorn,
reaching into these frozen fastnesses, stirred the very depths of
the Eskimo auditor, while the white strangers, unconscious of the
emotional tumult they had aroused, assisted by Messrs. Adams and
Smeed, laughed uproariously at the scene. Dr. Traprock's demeanor,
especially, is positively mephistophelian. Can it be that he thinks
of playing the satanic rôle to Triplett's Faust?

Dr. Traprock assures us that we are too imaginative. "It was a
glorious performance"; he says: "Long may its frozen echoes hover
'round the Pole, to thaw out in successive Springs as the years roll
on. I shall not be there to hear them but I shall be happy to think
that they persist."

"No, no!" she wailed. "I found them. I was putting your brief-case in order, and then my curiosity got the better of me and I opened them. But read, read!"

Obeying her injunction I unfolded the papers, and sat back, thunderstruck. The orders were brevity itself. They said simply. "Sail south, at once." My face must have expressed my bewilderment for she continued. "You see! You see! the moment I read them I knew these orders were a plot, a plot to make you turn back, a plot to discredit ... the man ... I love."

Her voice sank to a low moan and her shoulders were again racked by sobs. I saw it all now. Consumed by jealousy, knowing the contents of the papers, she had withheld them until her woman's nature could stand no more. In the dim light of the cabin, her face transfigured with tenderness, she was actually beautiful.

I raised her gently from the floor. "That will do," I said.

"I am sorry ... sorry," she moaned.

I pointed to the companion-way and she went out silently.

In the quarter hour which followed I wrestled with a temptation more terrible than any trial of the flesh, the trial of my honor. Once, my hand, holding the orders, stretched toward the cabin lamp; a few ashes, and all would be solved. Then I hastily drew back as if the flame had scorched my soul. When I finally arose, spent and trembling, I could proclaim myself the victor.

"Traprock must be true," I muttered. Then striding to the hatchway I threw it open and stepped on deck.

"All hands aboard to receive orders," I bellowed.

Amid confused murmurs the company assembled.

"Sick?" asked Captain Triplett peering at my white face.

"No; well," I answered. "Men, stow your dunnage at once. We leave in four hours for New York."

Makuik was surprised, but, I think, not displeased to see us depart. Though imperturbable, he had felt the responsibility of so large a tribe. His own way lay toward Iceland, via Ginnunagap and Nivlheim. Perhaps he felt that as the spring hunting-season opened his movements would be hampered. He must soon be on the march in order to reach his destination over the solid ice before he was cut off in the land of enemy tribes from whom he had ravished their loveliest possessions.

At any rate he worked with a will to speed our departure. Though he must surely have counted on the probability of none of us ever reaching safety he remained generous, bright and smiling to the last, insisting on dividing what remained of his food supply and heaping a monumental pile of oomiaks, spears and other equipment on the Kawa's deck.

When we had turned our little craft about and cast off our moorings I stepped into the space between the two parties. It was a trying moment. I had prepared a short speech for the occasion but found I could not trust myself to deliver it.

Advancing toward Makuik I silently gave the Kryptok brotherhood sign, which he returned. I had not seen Ikik since the previous evening but I now perceived her in the background and noticed that wise old Makuik had made fast one of her ankles to a large block of ice.

Approaching her quietly I hung an oil skin tobacco pouch about her neck. It contained a book-plate bearing the Traprock arms[26] and the device "Traprock must be true." On the back of this I had written, in Klinka script, "I could not love thee, dear, so much, loved I not honor more."

Blinded with tears, I turned and for the first time in many blissful weeks, gave the old, old, command, "Mush!"

* * * * *

On February twelfth, we had reached eighty-five. Progress in the cold and dark was infinitely slower than it had been during the warm northward journey. The absence of mosquitoes was a compensation but on the whole travel was much more arduous. The mean temperature from Jan. 1st to Feb. 10th was 68° below, the meanest I have ever encountered.

But I was in no hurry. We were very comfortable on our admirable craft and a careful reckoning of supplies gave me no cause for alarm. According to my list, we should be able to hold out for another year if worst came to worst.

It came to worse than that.

My rude awakening came on February 17th.

It had been a wretched day with alternating snow and blizzard gales. The thermometers had gone their limit (100 below) and would have gone further if they had been longer. Cooped up in the cabin, worn with toil, frazzled with the bickering of the card players to whom I had given one week of grace for final rounds of roodles, my nerves were taut and jumpy. I ordered Swank to step aft and fetch me a plug of A-P. He was gone an unconscionable time and when he returned his face was blanched with terror.

"The bin's empty, Sir," he reported.

Empty!

I stared at him in amazement. Far into the night I went over my bills of lading promising myself a thorough stock-taking in the morning.

But the disaffected element on board were ahead of me. When I came on deck the following day, they were grouped in the waist of the ship. The only greeting I got was black looks. Bulky haversacks and walking gear lay piled behind them. Plock stepped forward and began speaking nervously and rapidly.

"Traprock," he said, "this is where we quit. We've had enough of your damned seal-skin ship and your pulling and hauling. It's dogs' work, not men's. If you want to come with us, come. If not, stay here and freeze to hell. We've taken our share of the chow, and we're off. We can make better time without you than with you."

I was unarmed and practically alone. The only other man I could count on, on deck, was Whinney and he was still half blind. But I did not hesitate a second.

Reaching upward I grasped a heavy icicle which hung from the main stay sail block and raised it high above my head. "Mutiny!" I cried. Plock dodged and treacherously thrust in front of him Dane, who received the full force of the blow. At the same instant the crack of a revolver rang out and I fell senseless to the deck.

When I regained consciousness four hours later, my first act was to stagger to my feet. The bullet had inflicted only a bone-bruise, just grazing my head, and thanks to Sausalito's prompt skill, I was still alive. She, poor creature, in her humble way, had shown naught but subservience since we had started southward.

"Where are they? Did you get them?" I shouted.

"No, sir," replied Triplett, shame-facedly. "They got away. Took most 'er the grub, too. You see we wuz unprepared. I was in my nighty."

"So was I," echoed Swank.

"Fools!" I blazed. "Idiots! Cowards! Follow me."

It took their combined efforts to hold me in the cabin. I was still too weak to put up much of a fight. But the following morning we started.

Leaving Whinney alone, with instructions to fire an answering signal if he heard our shots, I divided our party into two groups. Dane, I might mention, still lay senseless in the lazarette. Frissell went with Triplett, Swank and Sausalito, who refused to be left behind, accompanied me.

My instructions were to circle the Kawa with a half mile radius increasing this distance each time the two parties met. Five times this toilsome operation was repeated. Hundreds of times I paused to scan the horizon with my glasses. The murky daylight, of which we were beginning to have a scant two hours, was fading and I was in despair. A short distance from the ship what there had been of a trail became confused. The fugitives appeared to have separated. Perhaps dissension as to direction had already broken out. We stumbled on in despair.

Suddenly a cry from Sausalito brought me up, standing. Her sharp eyes had detected nearly a mile away, a black figure moving across the ice, the bulky form of Plock. He was running toward a narrow lead of open water of which we had encountered several on the previous day. I saw at once that his plan was to leap the intervening water and trust to the widening breach to cut off pursuit. There was not an instant to lose.

Adjusting both hind and fore sights, I took careful aim and fired.

He pitched forward in the act of jumping and lay on the very edge of the floe. So great was the impetus of his huge carcass, that, to my horror, I saw his heavy pack slide over his head and disappear into the inky waters. It sank instantly. He was stone dead when we came up to him, his body already rigid with cold.

"We shall have to take him back," I said. In my mind was a fear, born of past experience, that we might _need_ him.

Dragging our loathsome burden we made a slow trip toward the supposed location of the Kawa. Black night had fallen and we could see nothing. A fine snow set in. I at once fired the danger signal and was immensely relieved to hear answering shots from a direction at right angles to that in which we had been travelling. Such are the narrow squeaks of polar travel.

We found that Triplett and Frissell had gotten in before us bringing the half frozen Wigmore, whom they had stumbled across by pure luck. He was without supplies or oomiak and must have perished in another five minutes. When he had recovered sufficiently to speak he confirmed my suspicions. Two hours out from the Kawa a bitter quarrel had broken out and the deserters had separated but not before Sloff and Plock had despoiled him of his food and protecting garments. "Another mouth to feed," I thought bitterly.

Sloff and Miskin were never heard of again. Somewhere in the heart of the floe their bodies lie, intact. But there can be no hell hot enough for their souls.

Of our supplies were left two cases of herring and a bale of shredded wheat, for seven men and one woman.

* * * * *

Now if ever had come the time for me to prove to my comrades the value of what the North had previously taught me, namely, how to live off the ice. As has been proven by travellers before me, this can be done. But the reader is asked to remember that we had embarked on our cruise with no suspicion that it would ever be necessary. Our equipment was designed for a mode of life from which only the treachery of a human element had forced us to depart.

DIRTY WORK AT THE IGLOO?

No, there is really nothing wrong with this picture. Dr. Traprock
explains that a scene of this sort, while unusual is not
extraordinary.

North of Eighty-six a man's rights are what he takes, a woman's
what she can get. The facts of this particular case are as follows:
Lapatok had captured a young pemmican in a snare of her own devising.
Unaware that she was being observed by the all-seeing eye of her
husband, Makuik, she began stripping off the bird's feathers and
scales (with which its underside is covered) with her teeth,
apparently preparatory to eating it. This is absolutely contrary to
Kryptok law. All food is the common property of the family and must
be instantly brought before the Aklok or Strong Man to be cached by
him in the community food bin. Failure to do this means death.

Makuik was quick to act. The expression on his face leaves no doubt
that he would speedily have exacted the extreme penalty (partial
as he was to Lapatok) had she not been able, with her next-to-last
breath, to gasp out the time-honored words "Na-pok!"--"our child."

In the few moments allowed her she explained that her intention had
been merely to masticate the bird, giving the first share to Kopek,
her infant, who was at that very moment desperately stricken with the
teething-sickness, and bringing the remainder to her lord and master.
With true womanly ingenuity she likewise pleaded that as the latest
of Makuik's wives and a member of the Klinka tribe she knew nothing
of Kryptok law. She thus appealed both to her husband's heart and
head with the result that he let her off with nothing more serious
than a severe beating which was terminated by the stern injunction,
"Kapok Fakalok ook."--"A woman's place is in the Igloo." The pemmican
in the meanwhile escaped and may be seen as illustrated, winging his
way out of focus.

As if touched by his wife's plea and anxious to re-establish both her
good-will and his own authority, Makuik later killed the fowl on the
wing with sling-dart thrown from a distance of forty salmon-spears.
(Approximately 280 ft.)

And now we were to experience that fatal lack of living game which as I have noted, seems to haunt the foot steps of the hunter to whom game is a dreadful necessity. The season was still early and bird life was practically extinct north of the circle. Occasionally we sighted an isolated pemmican or a tiny lapwing, too distant or too small to be shot at. Our store of ammunition was much too scarce to be wasted in pot shots. Of seals and walruses we saw absolutely none.

Day after day, in the grisly dawn of the new season, we crept on. Day after day we tightened our belts and stared each other in the face. And in the face of each stared a spectre more grisly still.

A few entries from my diary will best record the harrowing tale of what followed.

"Feb. 23rd. Ate the last of herring this noon. Reduced wheat ration to 1/2 cake for person. Sorted extra clothing (Plock's) for possible food.

Feb. 27th. Shredded-wheat supply fast diminishing. S. busy all day cleaning Plock's oomiak and leggins. Will it come to him?

March 3rd. Last of leggins for lunch. Whinney slightly ill, but eyesight improving. A good day's hauling. Crossed two open leads but saw no seal.

March 4th. A great day! Sighted seal herd two miles away, the first we have seen on the floe. Stalked them carefully, taking Frissell with me. By "playing seal," yooping and crawling, succeeded in getting into the very center of herd where we killed two with atomizers. A great saving of ammunition. Seal gorge tonight.

March 5th. All hands ill.

March 6th. Same.

March 12th. Finished last of seal. Plock's oomiak tomorrow.

March 14th. No food whatsoever. Very weak.

March 15th. Same. Weaker.

March 16th. (The writing is almost illegible) Plock.

March 19th. Finished Plock. Tough, as always."

March 20th dawned as a day of despair. My companions, weakened by starvation, refused to pull another ounce. We had come to a standstill. Scarcely able to stand, desperate, but still unwilling to admit myself beaten, I set forth alone.

Swank would have accompanied me but fell as he attempted to climb down to the ice and was unable to rise.

"Don't go," he pleaded.

"Herman," I said, "if the Traprock expedition perishes, Traprock will be the first man to go."

I wrung his hand and departed. Four miles from the ship I fainted. Regaining consciousness I crawled on, on my hands and knees. Another spasm of dizziness seized me and I sank down to rest. As I did so, a far-off sound reached me, the faint roaring of a bull seal. Peering across the floe I saw him dimly. He must have been slightly over a mile away. At 6000 yards I fixed him tremblingly on the crossed wires of my telescopic sight. Even then his image was vague, but it was now or never.

Bang! A louder roar reached me and I saw the great brute raise himself convulsively. But would he still escape me? No! He lay still.

When I reached him two hours later I saw, somewhat to my chagrin, why he had not moved. He was a giant chap of the "phoca barbata" family, the bearded seal. His beard was frozen in the ice.

My shot had been wasted.[27]

Fate seems sometimes to play her last trick on a man and, finding she cannot down him, suddenly gives up and turns to helping him. So it was in my case.

Fortified by a draught of warm seal oil, which was like nectar to my lips, I made my way back to the Kawa with as much of the great carcass as I could carry. The rest was speedily brought aboard. The effect of the physical reinforcement was magical.

Not only did my comrades' spirits revive but such minor ailments as had put in an appearance were immediately dissipated. Triplett got well of a touch of his old scurvy which had been bothering him. Whinney's eyes cleared up completely and Wigmore who had been quite daffy since his rescue, became suddenly sane again and, I am glad to say, devoutly thankful to me for having preserved him from the fate of his companions.

The weather, too, favored us. Constantly increasing light and rising temperature brought at last the wonderful realization that we had entered the zone of spring! Never did Spring dawn so gloriously in my life.

Our progress was now rapid with the Tutbury running magnificently on a mixture of whale and seal oil, with both main and jigger drawing to a quartering breeze, we were making approximately twelve knots. A school of porpoises gamboled about us as merrily as if, as Frissell said, "school were out!" Whales and walruses spouted under our lee. The date was April third.

Sausalito, indomitable soul, who had never faltered, had climbed to her favorite place in the crow's nest. From this high perch I suddenly heard her voice, shrill with excitement.

"Land ho! Land ho!"

A sturdy cheer went up to meet her and we all scanned the low-lying cloud on the southern sky line while Sausalito modestly descended.

It was indeed land. Eight hours later we dropped anchor in a sheltered bay. The sun had sunk below the horizon and violet dusk seemed to rise from the still water.

Three miles away the lights of an eskimo village twinkled through the haze and on the falling breeze we caught the sound of the sweetest singing that had ever fallen on human ears.

It was the song of the workers in the ice fields, harvesting the new crop for our own America!

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 26: A cerf-volant, argent, springing over a barbican, on a field, or. The whole surrounded by a garter. See Peluchet, Hist. des Armoires.]

[Footnote 27: On all my trips I have carried the gun I refer to, a Mannlicher-Schopenhauer, 6 MM, extra heavy. There is nothing compares with it for long range fire. W.E.T.]

Chapter X

_In home waters. The celebration in our honor. And what of my
companions? Reveries and Recollections. The End._