Ice Drift (9780547540610) (3 page)

Like most hunters, they knew what to do. They crawled down into their kayaks, pulling the sealskin aprons over the cockpits, and sadly went to sleep.

Kussu awakened after about six hours, relieved himself, and tapped on Maja's kayak. She soon pushed her cockpit cover open with one foot, crawled out saying "I'm hungry," and stretched.

"So am I," said Kussu. They hadn't brought any food along.

Looking out at the sea was useless, but Maja shouted, "Alika! Sulu!"

Defeated, Kussu said, "Let's go."

They began walking north, carrying their kayaks on their shoulders. They had to cross several creeks and inlets, and one river, hoping the ice had frozen enough to bear their weight. If it cracked, they would do what all kayakers did—put their boats down and slide them with their mitts until the ice was safe.

They reached Nunatak about noon and reported to the anxious women who greeted them that they had failed to find their sons. The floe might have already passed the village, or it might have grounded up to the north, not close enough for the boys to walk ashore.

Kussu said tiredly, "We must trust Alika to bring both of them back here safely." His face was grave. Maja's was as well. She lived for her sons.

There were solemn nods from all those encircling the parents. But everyone knew Alika was only fourteen, and Sulu only ten. They also knew the weather and the ice were heartless and unforgiving, and the season of darkness could be so cold that even the wolves would stop hunting.

Old Miak said, "I'm sure Alika built an
iglu
to stay in last night."

Kussu agreed. "He is a smart boy."

The shaman Inu had come out of his house, the big raven Punna on his shoulder. He said, "I will send a message to them."

The villagers nodded.

Maja and Kussu then borrowed a sledge and hooked their dog team to it to search the coast to the north in hopes that the floe had hung up there. Their kayaks were on the sledge, as well as a skin bag of dried char.

Both of them had traveled north before while hunting, and they took the same general route near the shore, exchanging places riding the sledge and running behind it every several miles. The moonlight reflected down, white as caribou milk.

Nattiq and the other dogs, happy to be on the trail, were performing well, and the alabaster of the land provided enough illumination so they could see any snow-covered rocks. Nattiq was likely to steer around them, anyway.

Finally, they reached the area where Alika had probably hunted. There was no sign of their sons. But there was a scar of ice on the bank where the floe had been. In the dimness, it stretched out of sight. Their sons were adrift in the Greenland Strait, without doubt.

Kussu said, "That floe must be four or five miles long." He wrapped his arms around Maja, who was silently weeping. They slowly began their return journey to Nunatak, sitting on the sledge together.

En route, Kussu studied the Milky Way—that faintly luminous band, stretching across the heavens, composed of innumerable stars too distant to be seen clearly—as if an answer might be found there. The Milky Way was the track made by the Raven's snowshoes. According to the Inuit, the Raven had created Earth.

The largest bergs usually broke off
from the Greenland glaciers, drifting south or east in the
currents, some flowing along the Canadian shore. Some
then traveled into the North Atlantic Ocean and sank
skips. Usually, only roosting birds were passengers.

The night sky had cleared as the clouds advanced toward Greenland, and the floe moved steadily south, under the moonlight.

The moon, Tatkret, was male, and the sun, Sikrinaktok, was female. Brother Moon was now providing bright light, and Alika thanked him for it.

Alika and Sulu and Jamka, half buried in snow, had emerged from behind the sledge to dust themselves off and start building a small, domed
iglu
for temporary shelter. It would be about five feet high. First, the boys looked back at the glassy, shining berg that had launched them. Alika guessed it was fifty feet high.

He said, "We'll go back there in the morning. We have work to do now."

The Little One nodded. Jamka sat down to carry out his role as bear guardian. The
nanuks
were around day and night, fair weather or foul.

Sulu said, looking over toward the shore, "Brother, how close will we come to home?"

"I don't know," Alika answered. "The gale blew us out. I don't know how fast we're traveling." They might have already passed their home, he thought.

Alika and Sulu were fortunate that Kussu always made certain the hunting sledge, with its wooden runners and caribou-antler braces, was fully equipped for any emergency. In addition to the
Reliance
rifle and ammunition reserved for bears and inland hunting, there were
Reliance
steel knives strapped to the frame, each for a special purpose. There was a bow and arrow, which made it possible to save bullets for the bears and an extra harpoon. There was also a
Reliance
stove vessel used to burn seal oil for drying wet clothing, heating, and cooking.

Kussu had also stocked the sledge with fifteen pounds of frozen seal meat and ten pounds of dried char, sealskins, an extra parka, caribou mattresses and sleeping bags, a sealskin rope, and a half dozen other survival items. He had selected carefully, well aware that in addition to his own life, the lives of Maja and their sons might depend on what was carried on the sledge.

As Alika unstrapped the knives, Sulu said, "We should have brought a kayak so we could just paddle ashore."

"We should have stayed ashore." Alika sighed, a touch of annoyance in his voice.

"Look, we'll get out of this, believe me. It may not be tomorrow or even next week, but we'll find a way, I promise," Alika said.

"How?" Sulu asked.

Alika sighed again. "At this moment, I don't know, but we'll find a way."

Sulu was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Could the sledge float?"

Alika sighed yet again. "Not with us on it. Let's go to work."

He pulled out a square of sealskin to use as a broom to sweep away the new snow and expose the hardpack beneath. For years while on hunts, Alika had been helping his father build temporary houses. He'd also built a number by himself. It was simple: Cut the building blocks out of hard-packed snow and place them. But finding good packed snow was not all that easy. If his harpoon shaft went down into it smoothly, the snow was apt to be usable. And Sulu was strong enough to help carry the cut blocks.

In less than three hours, they completed the small
iglu.
Then Alika laid down insulating floor skins while Sulu brought the caribou mattresses and sleeping bags in. Jamka was already inside and would share his body heat when the brothers stretched out on either side of him.

Sulu said, "I wish I hadn't come with you yesterday."

"I wish the same thing," Alika replied truthfully.

"I didn't tell Mama I was coming."

"You told me you did."

"I didn't know this would happen."

"Neither did I," Alika said sharply.

Sulu tried very hard to keep tears from rolling down his cheeks, and Alika saw his chin quiver. Alika stepped over and hugged his little brother. "I didn't mean to make you cry," he said. What else could he do but hug him and listen to what he said? Make them a team.

***

Alika started a fire by lighting the seal oil Kussu had stored on the sledge in a walrus intestine. He used a bow drill held between his teeth, and rotated the rod by swirling it with sealskin rope to make a spark in a small notched piece of board from the
Reliance.
The wick was dried moss. At home he used an iron pyrite to make the spark.

Alika left his papa's rifle just outside the
iglu
to prevent heat condensation from collecting in the barrel, causing rust. Alika had fired it several practice times a few years back.

Sulu said, "It's cold in here."

Alika had to suppress a laugh. It was cold everywhere. His brother hadn't slept in an
iglu
very often. Maybe a dozen times when out hunting with the family.

Alika said, "It'll warm up soon."

The final act of the night, before putting out the fire and bedding down in their sleeping bags, was eating a supper of wafer-thin frozen raw seal meat. Jamka, on his belly, chewed and grinded away loudly on his piece, his canines long accustomed to such meals. Alika and Sulu had to suck the frozen meat before it was soft enough to chew on. At home Mama would always boil the evening meal over their oblong platterlike
qulliq,
the combined lamp and stove that provided both light and heat and was also used to dry clothing.

 

Sulu and Jamka soon went to sleep, but Alika lay awake a long time, worrying and wondering about the size of their floe. How long was it? How wide? A day's walk to the end? How far would it travel until it began to break up into pack ice? What else was living on it? Certainly bears and the white arctic foxes that closely followed the bears to eat seal remains. No humans likely, although Greenlanders might have come out to hunt seals. But they'd quickly go back to their settlements in their boats once the floe began to drift south.

The only real enemy they might face out on the floe was the polar bear. Alika wasn't certain he'd be able to kill a bear with his first shot. If he missed while Jamka was battling it, which was bound to happen, he might not have time to reload. He was worried about that. Jamka was not really a match for a fully grown
nanuk.
It would take three or four dogs to bring a bear down. Not even Jamka was that powerful.

Alika heard Sulu's muffled voice. His brother had awakened.

"Will we be back in time for the feast?" Sulu asked.

"I'm sure we will," Alika said. Maybe Sulu had been dreaming? Such a strange question in the middle of the night. Maybe he was hungry?

The feast was the weekly
alupajaq
in the community hall. The men gathered around a seal and cut it up. They told hunting stories. The women came together to listen and talk about the seal and about how fortunate they were to eat well. The best parts of the seal were presented to the women and children. It was a happy time for all. Alika thought that many weeks might pass before they'd attend another
alupajaq.

What they needed badly was a strong gale from the northeast that would jam the floe against the western shore, enabling Alika, Sulu, and Jamka to jump off onto the land. But unfortunately, there weren't often gales from the east this time of year.

"I was dreaming about
aalu,
" Sulu said.

Alika moved over on the sleeping platform to comfort his brother. "After we get a seal, I'll make you
aalu,
" Alika said.
Make sure the meat is very lean and clean; cut it into tiny pieces and put them into a howl, adding a few drops of melted blubber, a few drops of seal blood, and a little
ptarmigan intestine, and stir briskly with your fingers.
The sauce was delicious when smeared on seal. "I promise I'll make
aalu
if we can find a ptarmigan." Anything to take Sulu's mind off being adrift, Alika thought.

Sulu said soberly, "Use something else besides bird intestines." There was Sulu's bird obsession again.

"I'll try," said Alika, not having the faintest idea of what to substitute.

But his mind wasn't really occupied with fixing a treat for his brother. Soon the darkness would descend and last at least three months, including many days and nights when the weather would force them to stay inside—force them to give up hunting. Bad things could happen. Starvation, sickness, even
piblikoto,
craziness. Within Alika's memory, one woman had committed suicide during the long polar night.

Before drifting off to uneasy sleep, Alika decided on the next day's schedule. As early as possible, they would get settled by a seal hole. Food was the priority.
Food is always a priority.
Exploring and building a larger house could come later. Miak had been right. They must prepare for a long stay.

Round-faced, puffy-eyed Miak had spent almost six months on his drifting floe before being rescued.
Six months!
Alika couldn't bring himself to think that would happen again. The good spirits wouldn't allow it, he thought.