Part 11 (1/2)

Blood ties, friends.h.i.+p, or camaraderie all will cause a man to risk his own life for that of another. Military fighting units foster such loyalty, and any combat veteran will tell you that in the grimmest of battles, he really fought for his buddies rather than for his country or high-minded principles. Such closeness would have dictated that the grounded men of the Polaris Polaris make every possible effort to locate their s.h.i.+pmates. make every possible effort to locate their s.h.i.+pmates.

Regrettably the members of the Polaris Polaris expedition had no such unity. In reality, they couldn't even call one another s.h.i.+pmates. Divided by nationality, differing loyalties, and conflicting purposes, the crew of the expedition had no such unity. In reality, they couldn't even call one another s.h.i.+pmates. Divided by nationality, differing loyalties, and conflicting purposes, the crew of the Polaris Polaris had lost all cohesion. The rigors of the Arctic had reduced them to splintered coteries of men in league with one another. had lost all cohesion. The rigors of the Arctic had reduced them to splintered coteries of men in league with one another.

Were Charles Francis Hall still alive, no doubt greater effort would have been made to retrieve the rest of the crew. Neither Bud-dington nor Bessel ordered anything more. Sadly none of the crew pressed to continue the search.

So one day's cursory scan of the horizon marked the sum total of all attempts to locate the men separated from the s.h.i.+p during the storm. Tyson and those on the floating ice were left to their own resources.

Strangely the crew did see two blue foxes scampering along the sh.o.r.eline, which they duly noted in the s.h.i.+p's log. Their actions highlight a pitiful metamorphosis that had overtaken the expedition. Hammered incessantly by the Arctic, the members had lost their initiative, become tentative and timid, and retreated to the pa.s.sive role of observers. Somehow they must have felt that recording these observations successfully fulfilled their mission and would compensate for their other failures.

The next morning Buddington ordered preparations for leaving the s.h.i.+p. He had slept in Chester's cabin along with Bessel, while Morton, Hryan, and Mauch retreated to the forecastle. Sc.r.a.ps of clothing and blankets were scrounged from the belongings of Captain Tyson and others not present to protest.

Low tide revealed even more extensive damage to the bow. The entire stem, the curved timber where the bow planks join together, had now completely broken away below the six-foot mark, taking with it the iron sheeting and cross planks. Of the scant pieces of lumber left, several planks on the port side were bent sharply back. Such extensive damage should have rapidly sunk the Polaris. Polaris. Only the insistence of Captain Hall that the bow be double-planked and backed with a watertight bulkhead had saved their lives. Neither Buddington nor Bessel gave the dead man that credit. ”I called the officer's attention to it,” Buddington noted in his journal, ”who only wondered she had kept afloat so long.” Only the insistence of Captain Hall that the bow be double-planked and backed with a watertight bulkhead had saved their lives. Neither Buddington nor Bessel gave the dead man that credit. ”I called the officer's attention to it,” Buddington noted in his journal, ”who only wondered she had kept afloat so long.”

Slowly the crew dismantled the dying steams.h.i.+p. Being rigged as a fore topsail schooner, the s.h.i.+p had two yards, two booms, gaffs, and two topmasts. Pole by pole the rigging was cut down and laid on the deck. To a sailor this duty must have been painful to perform, akin to disa.s.sembling one's home or dissecting a favorite pet. Wad ng ash.o.r.e at low tide, the crew carried the spars ash.o.r.e along with the yards of canvas sail.

Agair the sense that Buddington had washed his hands of his long-suffering s.h.i.+p pervades the scene. Until its removal, the standing and running rigging of the Polaris Polaris remained sufficient to sail the s.h.i.+p southward. The engines still worked, and the rudder and screw could provide some a.s.sistance. With the beached s.h.i.+p fully exposing the damage to the keel, repairs were possible. And the s.h.i.+p's carpenter, Nathan Coffin, mad as he was, could have made those repairs. remained sufficient to sail the s.h.i.+p southward. The engines still worked, and the rudder and screw could provide some a.s.sistance. With the beached s.h.i.+p fully exposing the damage to the keel, repairs were possible. And the s.h.i.+p's carpenter, Nathan Coffin, mad as he was, could have made those repairs.

Perhaps in forsaking his vessel, Buddington relied upon Arctic history. Parry, Kane, and Hayes had all abandoned their s.h.i.+ps and survived :o tell about it. Odds favored those explorers who had retreated ir the spring, hugging the coastline until they encountered a pa.s.sing whaler or reached native villagers willing to transport them to the closest white settlement.

Unlike Buddington and his crew, those survivors had their small boats. The fourteen men stacking timber, canvas, and sail bags filled with coal and bread on the beach had no means of transportation other than their feet. The dogs and sleds drifted on the ice with Tyson's group. Travel overland by foot was suicidal. No party could push or carry enough supplies by hand to survive. Sir John Franklin's expedition had proved that conclusively. Scott's Antarctic failure reconfirmed that grim fact years later.

Exactly what Buddington's plans for the future were are unclear. Enough timber existed for Coffin to build a lifeboat, even cabins on the sh.o.r.e. Being near Lifeboat Cove, he remembered rumors of an iron boat abandoned there by Dr. Hayes. Hayes and his men had mentioned it on their return ten years earlier. It is likely Buddington hoped that a tardy whaler might cross their path before the whaling season ended or expected that the United States Navy would come looking for them when the expedition failed to return. For the moment being on solid ground was enough for him.

The nineteenth of October dawned clear and tranquil, as so often happens following a storm. The northeast winds scoured the skies of all clouds and blew the obstructing ice from the straits. Standing on the sh.o.r.e Sieman and Hayes marveled at the irony. The sea before them lay clear of the ice pack as far as the eye could see. Dark water sparkled to the horizon southward and westward. Sadly there was nothing they could do about it. Reluctantly the men returned to their tasks of stacking and piling the meager collection of crates and boxes that const.i.tuted their winter supplies.

Then the yelp of barking dogs reached their ears.

Excitement gripped the working party. It had to be Tyson! Tyson with all the extra food and supplies. The sailors rushed about seeking to pinpoint the sounds echoing off the low foothills. Several men waded into the water and scanned the ocean for a floating island bearing Tyson's group into their cove. Only an empty sea greeted them. Other men rushed along the southern rim of their harbor, expecting to see their separated companions trudging along the beach.

Those who looked inland spotted tiny figures approaching from the east. Since the sixteenth the sun had skipped along the horizon well below the Greenland mountains. With the low winter's light glaring across the snow, the backlighting trans.m.u.ted the approaching party into ghostly, s.h.i.+mmering images.

Slowly the shadows fused into two figures driving a sled.

ADRIFT.

The fear of death has long ago been starved and frozen out of me but if I perish, I hope that some of this company will be saved to tell the truth of the doings on the Polaris. Polaris. Those who have baffled and spoiled this expedition ought not to escape. They cannot escape their G.o.d! Those who have baffled and spoiled this expedition ought not to escape. They cannot escape their G.o.d!-CAPT. GEORGE TYSON, ON THE ICE, 1873 As he wa :ched the Polaris Polaris slip behind the island, hope and despair struck Ty >on in the pit of his stomach like a fist. Why did they not come? Surely someone had seen them. He could clearly make out the deck and the vacant crow's nest, so anyone looking for them had to sec the black rubber blanket flapping in the wind. The vessel was mak ng way under power and sailwhich boded both well and ill for the men on the floe. slip behind the island, hope and despair struck Ty >on in the pit of his stomach like a fist. Why did they not come? Surely someone had seen them. He could clearly make out the deck and the vacant crow's nest, so anyone looking for them had to sec the black rubber blanket flapping in the wind. The vessel was mak ng way under power and sailwhich boded both well and ill for the men on the floe.

Long moments pa.s.sed while Tyson wrestled with his misgivings. He sank to the ground while the crew returned to their blankets and cooking fires. The wind picked up again and tore at the canvas la d across the ice hummocks for shelter. His mind turned to saving the canvas from being ripped apart by the rising wind.

Poles for the supply cache he had been building when the storm struck stiil lay on the far side of their ice floe, so Tyson persuaded two men to retrieve them.

Half in hour later, the two returned to report they had spotted the Polar's Polar's again. Elated, the navigator jogged to the farthest point of the ice cake and pulled open his spygla.s.s. The again. Elated, the navigator jogged to the farthest point of the ice cake and pulled open his spygla.s.s. The Polaris Polaris was indeed there, lying in the shelter of the island. was indeed there, lying in the shelter of the island. And she was tied up. And she was tied up.

No smoke issued from her stack, and all the sails were furled. Facing as she was into the wind, Tyson a.s.sumed she was tied to the surrounding ice, although he could not make out any ice hawsers. The uneasiness returned. She could not be disabled, he thought. She was steaming when he last saw her. Don't they intend to come over? he asked himself.

As he pondered his question, the ice beneath his feet began to move.

Tyson looked about. The ivory hills and tumbled landscape s.h.i.+fted before his eyes. Their floe had broken loose. The rising wind had dislodged the crumpled floe and wrenched it free from its wedged position between the two grounded icebergs.

They were drifting away from the tethered Polaris. Polaris.

Ice and slush acc.u.mulated within the channel separating the s.h.i.+p from the moving floe, but the whaleboats could cross the opening if they hurried. Already larger slabs drifted threateningly closer to the dark gap of water.

Tyson raced back and exhorted the men. ”We must start immediately,” he shouted over the rising wind. To his astonishment, his words fell on unheeding ears. Instead of jumping to the task, the men stumbled about like automatons, collecting every sc.r.a.p and article of their clothing as if they were precious jewels. Faced with the choice of speed or parting with their possessions, the crew opted to collect their scattered goods.

While Tyson ranted and raved for them to leave their trash, the men slowly packed one boat with everything that once littered their base. Naturally pus.h.i.+ng and dragging the overloaded craft across the broken ice proved arduous and painfully slow. Exasperated, Tyson rushed ahead of the grumbling and muttering crew, leading the Inuit and the cook to the launching site.

Before he had stumbled two hundred yards, a blizzard struck, and the erstwhile leader vanished in a shroud of swirling ice and snow. Tyson backtracked to find only Jackson following his footprints. The Inuit had retreated. When the cook realized that he alone followed Tyson, he, too, fled back to the struggling boat party.

At long last the boat reached the far edge of the ice floe. Frightened by the wind-whipped strait with its churning slabs of ice, the men hesitated to enter their overloaded whaleboat. Tyson put his shoulder to the craft, launching it before he jumped inside. The rest clambered in, following their worldly belongings into the jaws of danger.

While the craft bobbed along the ice, Tyson ordered out oars. To his consternation, only three oars appeared. And no rudder I And no rudder I In their misguided zeal to save their belongings, no one had s.h.i.+pped the tiller, sails, or the rest of the oars. Sourly Tyson wondered if the omissions were deliberate, as the men clearly were reluctant to leave the ice floe.

What followed was folly. Without sufficient oars and with no tiller, the vessel made no headway in the turbulent seas. The wind rose to gale force and easily tossed the whaleboat about before blowing it back against the icy island. Nothing could be gained by further efiort, Tyson realized. ”We shall all have to suffer much for such obstinacy,” he cried out to the unheeding wind.

Pulling the boat back onto the ice sapped the last of their strength. Night was falling as the party flopped exhausted onto the edge of the floe.

”We have to drag the boat back where she was,” Tyson ordered. Distressingly no one had the energy. Leaving the loaded boat, the party retreated to the higher center of their migrating home.

Tyson crawled under a sc.r.a.p of canvas and rolled himself in a musk ox lide. Chewing a piece of frozen meat, he fell fast asleep. He had been on his feet for forty-eight hours without rest.

While he slumbered, the storm descended with full force upon the bay. Waves and fetch roiled the pack ice, and wind piled drifts of snow against the jumbled hummocks. Too exhausted to dream, Tyson slept on, unaware of the changes raging about him. A piercing cry from the Inuit jostled Tyson to his senses.

Bolting to his feet, he screwed his mittened hands into his eyelids to wipe away the frost that had glued them shut. The wavering Arctic twilight greeted him. He'd slept the entire night, he suddenly realized.

Focusing his eyes, Tyson followed the outstretched arm of Ebierbing, and his heart jumped into his throat. The storm had broken their floe into pieces. Salt water lapped at the edge of their island of ice less than 75 feet away! The one on which Tyson and the seamen slept measured less than 150 yards across.

Worse, the loaded whaleboat with the bulk of their provisions and the pole tent drifted silently away on the other slice of their island. Urgently Tyson roused the sleeping sailors. Confused, tired, and fearful, the men could only stand and stare at the growing separation. Finally the lead of frigid water widened beyond any hope of jumping the gap, and Tyson slumped helplessly onto the snow to watch the current catch the other piece and swirl it into the mists.

The effects of the storm continued to hammer their tiny kingdom. The heavy seas, running under the bite of the wind, chipped away relentlessly at the edges of the diminis.h.i.+ng plate. As he watched inch after inch of ice break off, Tyson could only pray: ”G.o.d grant that we may have enough to stand upon.” Laconically he realized the Polaris Polaris could sail right up to the stranded men if it ever sighted them. could sail right up to the stranded men if it ever sighted them.

For two more days, the tempest raged while Tyson's hungry party huddled around their flimsy camp. Strangely, spotted seals bobbed nonchalantly in the heaving waters. For these marine animals, the storm and the breaking ice pack were simply part of their normal day.

Now the hunting skills of Ebierbing would prove crucial. Most of their food had drifted away in the other boat. The seals could provide not only food but also oil for cooking and to keep them warm. Cautiously he slid his kayak into the water and paddled toward the unsuspecting animals. Using his barbed-tipped bone spear instead of his rifle so as not to alarm the creatures, he caught one seal on each day. He might have taken more, but the cheering and rus.h.i.+ng about of the grateful sailors prompted the other seals to dive out of sight.

While Ebierbing hunted, Tookoolito and Merkut dutifully unpacked their seal-oil lamps and set up camp. When Ebierbing returned with his kill, the ice floe took on the appearance of a slaughterhouse. Blood streaked the snow as cubes of seal meat and blubber were divided among the party. The hungry men wolfed down the slices of raw meat. Nothing was wasted. Congealed blood from the kill was collected in a tin pot, mixed with snow, and cooked into a thin soup over one of the stone lamps. The blubber was diced and squeezed to coax its release of precious oil for the lamps. With that meager meal in their bellies, the men retreated to their robes to await their fate.

Two clays later Ebierbing cried, ”I see the boat!”

Tyson swung his telescope where the Inuit pointed. He spotted the whale boat holding their supplies lying on the ice at the extreme end of thi ice pack. The perversity of the winds and currents had reunited the divided portions of the original floe and returned the errant bo at to the far side of the ice. Tyson and the Native, along with six ded dogs, hurried to retrieve the craft before the plates drifted apart again. Rocking against each other as they were, it was only a mitter of minutes before this would happen. Hitching the dogs to tie boat, the two men managed to slide it across to their side. Now the party was reunited with the sum of their food and furnis.h.i.+ngs.

Over the next day, their tiny domain drifted tantalizingly close to the sh.o.r.e of Greenland, to the east, close enough to tempt Tyson to consider making a dash for land. But the young ice would neither support a man's weight nor allow them to use their boats. While the captain pondered his dilemma, the wind blew their raft back westward toward Ellesmere Island. Playing with the floating base like a cat plays with a mouse, the sea batted them back and forth until it finally tired of the game and abandoned the insignificant sliver of ice holding nineteen souls in the very middle of the strait.

Facec with the facts that they could not reach land and that their minuscule oasis of ice would hardly withstand another gale, Tyson decided to move camp to a larger island ab.u.t.ting their plate. Hitching the teams of dogs, Tyson and the Inuit pulled one whale-boat after the other over to firmer ice.

Just as they completed this task, the gap between their islands started to widen. The Eskimo's two kayaks still remained on the smaller floe. None of the worn-out sailors responded to Tyson's plea to save those useful craft. When Ebierbing risked his life by jumping the gap to save his boat, the cook, Jackson, and Lindermann followed. Despite their efforts, they could save only one kayak. Now they wer-3 down to a single kayak, essential for hunting seals, and two wha eboats. Soon even that number would change.

Ironically all their efforts had returned them to the original section of the ice floe where Tyson had first built his pole tent beside the Polaris. Polaris. For all their risks and pains, they were back where they started and much worse off, for land was far beyond reach. For all their risks and pains, they were back where they started and much worse off, for land was far beyond reach.