Ice Drift (9780547540610) (4 page)

Surfaces of the huge floes were seldom smooth.
The howling winds made cuts and crevices. At work
beneath the floes crosscurrents pushed upward, forming
ridges, the hummocks, sometimes thirty feet high.

Alika awakened slowly in the morning, again thinking about where they were and what had to be done for survival; then he crawled out the
iglu
entryway to relieve himself. Jamka followed him. Sulu still slept. The small shelter had served them well overnight. They'd slept warmly. In fact, they were warmer out here on the ice than they would have been on land, above the permanently frozen ground.

They were well equipped for the frigid weather. Their parkas of caribou hides, one inner suit with fur next to their bodies and an outer suit with fur outside, were light and airy and extremely warm; then bear trousers, sealskin underpants, and furlined mitts; their socks were made of hare fur.

The sky was dim and gray, casting dark shadows over the floe hummocks and western mountains as well as those to the east in the Greenland distance. Aside from the murmur of the water as their ice ship sailed slowly on, there were no sounds. No wind was blowing, a condition that wouldn't last, Alika knew. Though his body was warm, he shivered from the invading loneliness and thoughts of the arrival of nearly total darkness.

There were only a few days left before the sun would sink below the horizon and not rise again for three whole months. Could they survive it? Old Miak had done so, of course, facing starvation at one point. But then, Miak had had a lifetime of experience beforehand, a lifetime of winters, and was a seasoned hunter.

Sulu soon crawled out of the tunnel. He asked, "Will Papa come out and rescue us today?"

"Let's hope so," Alika replied, "but meanwhile, we have to build the larger house just in case he doesn't come out for a few days. If a blizzard begins, we'll just stay inside and play games."

Sulu nodded. He knew all about blizzards. The wind could blow him off his feet, tumble him carelessly like a ptarmigan feather. He rubbed Jamka's muzzle.

Alika added, "We need freshwater. Remind me." There were a few frozen pools of freshwater from the scant summer rains on the floe. They were easy to spot. He'd use an ax from the
Reliance
to dig out a chunk and melt it. They could also eat snow to quench their thirst in an emergency.

 

Alika already knew the sledge, with its survival treasures, would eventually be lost as the floe broke up. Far to the south, they would lose their house, too. But he decided not to discuss that with Sulu. Later in the day, he'd strip the sledge and store everything in the small
iglu
to make more space in the larger one.

He said to Sulu, "Let's start the big house, then we'll eat, then hunt."

"I'm very hungry," Sulu said. For one so thin, he was always hungry.

Alika answered, "Suck on some seal meat or char, and feed Jamka while I cut blocks."

This time they'd start by building a knee-high sleeping and cooking platform out of the snow blocks as their papa had always done. The round ceiling would be higher than Alika's head. The floor would be eighteen inches below the outside surface to avoid the wind. But Alika would use the same method as the night before, quickly cutting the blocks with the snow knife. He'd start an inner-leaning spiral until the domed structure was completed, with a windbreak outside the tunnel to help keep out frigid air. Both Inuit and Eskimos had been doing this for centuries.

For a while, Jamka watched as the boys worked and talked, and eventually went to sleep.

It took a little more than five hours until Alika inserted the final "key" ceiling block and a low tunnel was built. Alika cut an air vent in the room's ceiling. Then he packed loose snow around the outside seams to make them airtight. The final touch was to spread the caribou mattresses on the sleeping and cooking platform. If it appeared they'd be staying longer than a few days, he'd cut a window space and fill it with clear sea ice to let moonlight in.

Alika and Sulu looked at the house with pride. "Papa might have made it more quickly," Alika said to Sulu.

Sulu nodded. "We did a good job."

Alika said, "Before you were born and the
Reliance
wrecked, we lived in snowhouses that were connected with tunnels."

"Mama told me that," Sulu said.

"There were five neighbors where we lived, and we could visit back and forth without going outside. It was fun."

The two snowhouses, separated by about a hundred feet, were like two large white knobs on the uneven surface of the floe.

At last they sat on the sledge to eat, looking toward shore and the lonely white tundra that slid into the horizon, seeming much closer than it was. Out there on land this time of year were foxes, lemmings, hares, wolves, musk oxen and caribou, falcons, ravens, and snowy owls, but few humans. Most of the bears remained around the ice where the seals lived, sometimes riding floes like this one. How many bears, Alika couldn't guess.

"Do you think Papa and Mama are coming today?" Sulu repeated anxiously, his small face almost hidden in the parka hood.

Alika said, "Let's hope so, Little One." A rescue was doubtful.

"Will the Moon-man help us?" Sulu asked.

"Yes," Alika replied. "He will see us down here and take pity on us and give us especially bright light." Tatkret was always helpful.

Sulu nodded.

If their parents did not show up soon to track the floe, locate it, board it, the boys might be too far down the strait and the darkness day and night would hide them, Alika knew. He couldn't speak of those possibilities. He had to be cheerful, positive, and protective, assuming the ways of the hunter. Alika did think of himself as a grown hunter.

"What is Mama doing now?" Sulu asked. It was a simple question that would probably be asked many times. Alika would have to reply each time.

"Oh, maybe stringing caribou sinew for thread; maybe cooking a rabbit stew; maybe thawing summer berries for us to eat when we come home."

Then the look on Sulu's face told him he was saying wrong things again, reminding his brother of their predicament. Finished eating, he said quickly, "Let's go get a seal."

Alika guessed there were at least a dozen seal breathing-holes within five hundred feet of the house. The problem was finding them beneath the new snow. The air holes were tiny, no more than three inches across. A northwest wind was best for hunting, elders said. But nothing was blowing this morning.

Jamka went about his job without being asked, tail wagging happily. He always seemed to take pleasure in finding an active hole, or one he thought was active, so Alika and his papa could take up watching it.

Sulu by his side, Alika stayed by Jamka's selected hole for more than an hour and then ran out of patience. "Let's see how large the floe is," he said.

He carried the loaded rifle in case a bear showed up. His papa had told him long ago, "Always make sure you kill it with your first shot. A wounded bear, especially a mother with cubs, is the worst enemy a hunter can have. They are deadly."

The boys and dog went north on the floe. Alika wanted to take another look at the berg that had rammed them. It was a giant ship of glacier ice, most of it beneath the water.

Above the water, nearing the top, were large swords of ice pointing skyward. Papa had said there were bad spirits in there, invisible ice people living in the bergs. The berg seemed almost human, a crystal monster without eyes or a mouth. It was already frozen to the floe.

Looking at it, Alika felt sudden rage.

He'd seen bergs out in the strait, glistening in the sun or menacing under gray clouds. He'd always been frightened by them.

"I'd like to chop it up," he said to Sulu. But that didn't make sense. "Let's go."

To the south as far as Alika could see, the floe ice around them was of varying thickness, with thinly snow-covered mounds, the high hummocks, and the flat parts sometimes five feet above the level of the water. Here and there were deep cracks. Gale winds had blown some of the snow away, leaving shining bare ice. They'd slip and slide on it. The surface of the floe was one of the worst Alika had ever seen.

 

In what limited, ashen light remained, Alika, Sulu, and Jamka began walking south along the western edge of the floe. Alika thought it would be wiser to take that route rather than getting lost during this first exploration. Soon, scant daylight would fade almost entirely, and exploring would be too dangerous except during full moon. The first few feeble signs of returning light might not happen until late December. Even then the blackness would sometimes be so thick, they wouldn't be able to see each other fifty feet apart.

Alika carried the Maynard percussion carbine at the ready. When his papa had traded a bearskin for this breech-loading rifle, he also got several hundred cartridges, and they had been used sparingly. Alika put three more bullets in his parka.

Sulu had watched his brother handling the rifle and asked, "Do you think we'll meet a bear?" He was uneasy.

"I hope not," Alika answered. "But I'm sure they're here." Sooner or later they were bound to encounter one.

Jamka between them, Alika and Sulu began walking. They had gone about two miles when they heard the bellowing of walrus in the distance. The huge tusked animals, some much heavier than the biggest bears, often herded together in great numbers. They were the only natural enemies of
nanuk,
but the bears seldom challenged the walrus bulls, which had sharp three-foot twin tusks and armor-like skin on their necks and shoulders. Walrus were even better swimmers than bears and could dive to three hundred feet to locate clams and other shellfish on the bottom. Sometimes they attacked kayaking hunters. The only animal that could best a walrus in the water was a killer whale. The killers,
merciless, also went after hunters on rare occasions. When the sun was bright, the whales would burst through the ice, attacking the shadows of the horrified hunters in their kayaks above.

Alika said, "Hear that bellowing? I think we're going to see a bear, Little One."

"That's why the walrus are making the noises?"

"I think so."

When they got closer, Alika could see that a huge bear was getting ready to attack the herd, causing all the commotion. He'd seen an attack once before and steered Sulu and Jamka, growling and tense, behind a hummock to watch. Falcons were flying overhead, adding to the grim scene that Alika knew would turn bloody within a few minutes.

Hundreds of walrus were clustered together at the water's edge, with their babies. The bellows shattered the silence. The tusks of the bulls looked like white knives against their rubbery blue-black hides, some of which were blotched with reds and pinks and browns.

"I don't like this," Sulu said. His hand clasped Alika's arm.

"I don't, either, Sulu," said Alika, heart beating fast.

The bear selected his prey, a baby, with care and snatched it up as it shrieked pitifully. The bear dove into the water, away from the raging bulls, and swam with the baby wriggling in his jaws for several hundred yards. Then he climbed back out on the ice, mauling the baby and tossing it playfully before finally killing it with a single bite.

The terror in Sulu's face told Alika he should quickly take his brother away from this savagery. On the other hand, perhaps it was good for the Little One. He'd seen
nanuk,
never afraid of man or animal, as pure predator this afternoon and would remember these moments if he ever had the bad luck to meet a bear face-to-black-nose.

Sulu said, "I never want to see that again." His eyes mirrored his words.

"I hope you don't," Alika said. But if his brother changed and grew up to be a hunter, it was likely the scene would be repeated.

They walked back along the floe edge to the two
iglus,
and Alika tried another seal hole for a little while until full darkness descended. There was still enough emergency food in the small
iglu
to last them a few days. With luck, by then Alika would have harpooned a seal and skinned it. Then they'd have enough blubber and meat to last a few weeks, enough oil to burn for cooking, light, and heat.

That night Alika again thought about the berg that had rammed them. Perhaps it was Kokotah, an evil spirit of the ice cap and enemy of the Inuit, who had guided it.

Big bergs have a bluish tint. Smaller ones
that split off are called growlers and are low in the
water, indigo in color, awash like a whale's back.
Bergs are sometimes locked in pack ice.

Mock moons—three bright smaller moonlike spots on lunar halos, seen only in the Arctic during winter—were out in the clear sky, the moon itself staying just a few degrees above the summit of the far western mountains. The mock moons surrounded the moon, which circled the horizon for days this time of year.

Inside the large community hall, a drum was being struck. The shaman Inu would soon speak. Most of the caribou hunters had returned earlier in the day.

Kussu and Maja had visited Inu twice, asking him to help find their sons. "You are now our only hope," Maja had pleaded, her face drawn and weary.