Free The Ice Master by Jennifer Niven Page B

had said so himself. He would be back in a week or so. He would bring fresh meat for the winter. Bartlett knew that caribou were nearly extinct in the area. Stefansson himself had told them so, but he seemed to have forgotten that fact.
    Before leaving, Stefansson had presented Bartlett with a letter that included detailed instructions for the men and the ship, should he be unable to return, and stated: “If the ice 7 is strong enough I expect to cross thence to near Beechy Point to hunt caribou.. . . Should the Karluk during our absence be driven from her present position it will be well for you so soon as she has come to a stop again, and as soon as it appears safe to send a party ashore, to erect one or more beacons, giving information of the ship’s location. If it becomes practicable, send off Malloch and Mamen for surveying purposes. McKinlay should accompany them for the purpose of establishing magnetic stations in connection with Malloch’s survey. . .. Except for some especial reason, the Eskimo woman Kiruk should be kept sewing boots of the winter sea-ice type. . .. It is likely that we shall be back to the ship in ten days, if no accident happens.”
    Once Stefansson and his party disappeared over the snow and ice, into the vast, white landscape, the twenty-two men, one woman, and two children who had been left behind were helpless to do anything but wait for their return.
    â€œAway 20 miles 8 in the distance we see him and his party like small black specks against the everlasting white of the Alaskan hills,” wrote Maurer. “They pass over the first ridge and out of sight. Goodbye, Stefansson.”
    T WO DAYS AFTER S TEFANSSON and his group left the ship, a blizzard struck. It was the first big storm of the season, with winds reaching sixty miles an hour. The ship rolled and rocked, agonizing against the grip of the vise that held her. The men were trapped below. The gale was ferocious, wild, and terrifying.
    Arctic weather varied from day to day, with dramatic differences in temperature. But now, winter had arrived early and with great hostility, and the wind, raw and cold, seemed to cut through the ship. The ice had begun raftering and crushing around them, forming enormous pressure ridges—twenty, forty, sixty feet tall—which threatened to impound the vessel. The Karluk sat in the midst of it all, still trapped in the same expanse of ice that had imprisoned her in Camden Bay, one hundred and fifty miles or so to the east of where she rested now. For weeks, they had drifted, but lately the floe sat still and unmoved, locked in the surrounding ice.
    On September 23, McKinlay was in his cabin, talking to Mamen and Malloch. Suddenly, he had the unmistakable sense that the Karluk was moving again. The three scientists rushed up to the deck, but the winds forced them back inside. By this time, more of the men had gathered, each voicing the same sensation. Bartlett confirmed it. The ship was under way.
    The gale had gathered such force that their ice floe had broken free. As the winds picked up, the ice carried the Karluk, and all of her passengers, westward, thirty miles a day, far away from Herschel Island toward the heart of the Arctic Ocean. The wind was swift and strong, the sky overcast and dark. They knew that if this continued Stefansson would have no chance of returning to the ship, since he would not be able to reach them. Nor did it then seem likely that they would have any chance of setting out to reach him and the rest of the original expedition.
    F OR NEARLY A WEEK, they drifted sixty miles a day. The floe that carried them remained intact while all around them the ice was breaking up and the water was opening. The blizzard extinguished the stars, and day and night the men could not escape the thundering of the grinding, shattering ice. For now, the floe that held the Karluk protected her; but it could break apart at any moment, and she would be left to defend herself