Free The Ice Master by Jennifer Niven

also began to tighten the rationing of food, and the Eskimos went hunting for seal nearly every day, using the rifles Stefansson had issued them. Officers, scientists, and crewmen sometimes joined them, but Kuraluk was by far the best hunter and secured most of the seals himself. Seal hunting was by no means an exciting sport, and the Eskimos were the only ones who seemed to have the patience it required.
    Kuraluk would settle behind a hummock of ice or take his kayak out into the open water and wait. He would sit, still as a statue, for eight hours at a time until a seal appeared out of a nearby watering hole. If the seal saw him, it was over. He had to be ready to shoot at any moment, even though his fingers were stiff and sore from the cold and lack of movement. But the seals were slippery creatures and surprisingly quick, and if he wasn’t fast enough they would disappear before he could take another shot.
    Sometimes hours passed without sighting anything, and sometimes the creatures were too far away to shoot. Seals were exceptionally curious, so whenever Kuraluk or the other Eskimos spied one in the distance, beyond range, they would let out a low whistle and watch as the inquisitive animal disappeared into the water and resurfaced just a few yards from them. Then came the shot, and if they were lucky, the seal was easy to retrieve. More often than not, the wounded animal slipped through their hands and the patient hunters came home empty-handed. At other times, Kuraluk and the others felt lucky enough to capture even one or two after a long day’s work.
    McKinlay, try as he might, could not seem to land even one seal. He was clumsy when it came to sports or hunting, and became the butt of jokes when he sat for twenty minutes on the ice one day and missed a seal that leapt up in front of him, simply because he was wiping his nose with his handkerchief. “Down went my 2 ‘hankie,’ up went my rifle, but with a dive the seal was gone.. . .”
    Soon Templeman was replacing the salt meat they were accustomed to with seal meat at every meal. McKinlay, like most of the others, had never tasted seal, and Templeman, never having cooked it before, wasn’t quite sure how to prepare it. It had a strong smell and a strong taste; but the liver and seal kidney pie were delicacies, and Templeman began serving the dishes once a week.
    T O PASS THE TIME, the men of the Karluk hunted, read, skated, slept, posed for Wilkins’s camera, and watched the ice. They gave an orchestral concert one night, with Sandy on violin, Wilkins and McConnell on the harmonica, Hadley on mandolin, and Second Engineer Williamson playing the comb. Under Mamen’s tutelage, they practiced their skiing and had a good laugh at Dr. Mackay, who insisted on wearing short pants, which became filled with snow every time he fell off his skis. Beuchat and Jenness studied the Eskimo language with Stefansson while Jimmy and Jerry shared traditional Eskimo folktales with everyone. Mackay, Chafe, Sandy, Munro, and Jenness engaged in a target-shooting competition with a pound of tobacco as the prize. But many of the staff members stayed in bed until dinnertime.
    Despite their efforts to stay busy, it was a dreary, aimless existence. Templeman received a black eye from sailor John Brady; fireman Breddy received a scalding on the back of his head in an engine room accident; and Kataktovik suffered from a painful bout of venereal disease. Mamen, meanwhile, cursed his fellow scientists, thinking them the laziest men he had ever met. His knee was much better now and he was using every opportunity to exercise, to study, to write letters to Ellen that he hoped he would be able to send. He was also learning to use the sextant at Stefansson’s request. Mamen might be asked to leave the ship soon and head for land, Stefansson told him, and he would need to know how to work the instrument.
    T HE SNOW CONTINUED TO FALL, the temperature plunged, the