Antarctica (16 page)

Windham rushed in with a kettle of tea and a plate of exquisite-smelling fried food.

“What’s that?” Colin asked.

“Crispy penguin fritters,” Windham said. “You haven’t lived until you’ve tried them.”

“For the moment,” Dr. Montfort said, “we’ll see how he takes the fluids.”

Colin knelt by Father, cringing at the sight of his face. His cheeks were covered with dry, black, angry-looking blotches. His eyelids were swollen and his lips badly chapped. His eyes fluttered open.

“Colin?”

“Yes, Father.”

“Where’s Andrew?”

“Next to you, Father. He’s going to be okay, I think.”

“Thank God,” Father said, his voice heavy and slow. “I—I was with him. He was right beside me … I let him out of my sight….”

Colin took his hand. “Don’t worry. Everybody survived.”

“No. Not everybody.”

Colin carefully counted heads. “Thirteen,” he said. “Who’s missing?”

“Shreve,” Father said. “We lost him. I let him go, too. This is all … my fault….”

“Father, stop it. Go to sleep, okay?”

“ … You were right….” Father’s voice was drifting in and out, woozy and dreamlike. “You … you didn’t want to do this, Colin. You didn’t want to go … and you were so right….”

Colin had to turn away. Father was crying.

Shock. Frostbite. Exposure. He wasn’t himself. He needed sleep. The experience had affected his mind.

Colin felt his own eyes water. All of the men looked like Father, or worse. Like they’d been swallowed up by death and spit back out.

Above them, the dogs’ paws clickety-clacked against the decking as they settled into their kennels. They looked awful, too. Colin hadn’t recognized any of them. One was descending the stairs now, wagging its tail, holding a rag in its mouth.

No. Not a rag. A doll. A Greek soldier.

The dog bounded across the floor and started slobbering all over Andrew.

“Hey—get away!” Colin shouted.

Andrew’s eyes opened. He smiled and whispered, “Socrates,” and he threw his arms around the dog’s neck as it licked every inch of his scabby face.

Colin grinned. “Hey, no need to thank me, Andrew. Saving your life is my life’s business.”

Andrew threw off Socrates and propped himself up on his elbows. “Colin?”

“Happy New Year,” Colin said. “You made it. So did Father. But don’t wake him up just yet. He’s a little off his beam.”

Andrew turned and let out a sudden sob. He reached out to touch Jack’s face. “His face—”

“Frostbite,” Colin said. “You have it, too.”

“I do?”

“Don’t touch. Not to worry, you’re back on the
Mystery
now, under improved management.” Colin reached for Windham’s platter. “Care for some tea and penguin fritters?”

January 8, 1910

IT HURT.

It hurt so much to smile.

“He slapped my face,” Jack was saying. “I had crossed over to Neverland, and Andrew pummeled me back to life. I nearly slugged him.”

“We all felt like doing that,” Rivera said.

Ruppenthal nodded. “He’s a lousy sailor, he can’t tell a joke, and he got lost twice—but yeah, okay, we all would have died without him.”

“Hear, hear!” Ruskey called out.

“I didn’t mean to wake
you
up in the cave, Ruppenthal,” Andrew said.

The men roared. Andrew was shocked. He’d never made them laugh before.

Even Colin was chuckling. A little.

The expedition team members were all awake now. Oppenheim and Cranston were silent and listless, Lombardo was fading in and out, and Kosta was trying hard not to show that he was in pain. But the rest had regained a bit of their old selves.

Jack had told Captain Barth and the crew all about the trip—exaggerating Andrew’s role shamelessly, of course. But that was all right.

The smell of cooked seal was heavy in the room now. Windham stepped out of the galley with a platter full of steaks, yellow and blubbery-looking. “Come ’n’ get ’em while they’re hot!”

Andrew had never enjoyed anything so revolting-looking before. The expeditioners were slavering at their plates, bolting the stuff down as if it were filet mignon.

The
Mystery
crew—seven of the ones who’d remained behind—all stared at them agape.

“Well, gentlemen,” Captain Barth announced. “Speaking of tales of derring-do, perhaps you may be wondering why the crew seems a bit … short-handed.”

Barth followed with a story so absurd that if it hadn’t come from his mouth, Andrew would not have believed it. When Barth got to the part about the wheat and barley, Andrew almost burst out laughing—but Barth’s expression stopped him.

“I never thought I could be fooled by the likes of a Nigel or Philip,” Barth said. “Colin Winslow, gentlemen, is the reason this ship was here when you arrived. He saved your lives.”

“Colin, this is extraordinary,” Jack said.

Colin shrugged. “Flummerfelt did most of the work—”

“I was on their side before you stepped in,” Flummerfelt reminded him.

“Nigel didn’t plan well,” Colin said. “And Philip—well, he’s Philip, and—”

“For God’s sake, take the credit!” Lombardo said, and he began to sing faintly: “Forrr … he’s a jolly good fe-e-ellow, for he’s a jolly good fe-e-ellow …”

Jack reached out and put an arm around Colin. “You deserve it, son.”

Colin flinched.

His father pulled him into an embrace. Colin looked awkward and uncomfortable.

But he didn’t pull back. And he didn’t look angry. He actually seemed to be enjoying it. A little.

Andrew smiled. This was promising.

“Well, eat up, everyone!” Captain Barth said. “I’m going to check on our prisoners, let them know what’s happened—and tomorrow we attempt again to break through the—”

CRRRRRRRRACKKKK!

The cots began to tilt. The dogs leaped to their feet and howled.

The ship was moving. Lifting to port.

Captain Barth ran upstairs to the deck. Mansfield followed hard on his heels.

Jack’s face lost whatever color it had regained. “What’s the report, Elias?” he called out.

“I was afraid of this!” Barth shouted. “The wind has shifted—it’s blowing the pack ice in from the northeast!”

“Is there damage?” Colin asked.

Mansfield clattered down the stairs. “Not yet. But we’ve got pressure on the bow and stern—two floes moving against the ship, pushing her upward on the port side.”

“Another on starboard!” Captain Barth added.

“Can we move her?” Jack said.

“If the wind changes, the pressure’ll let up. Or at least we can try to chop her out.”

“And if the wind keeps up?” Andrew asked.

“She’s a strong ship,” Mansfield replied. “Ain’t none built thicker. But she’s trapped between the floes. We’ve got to act as soon as we can, or else the ice will …”

He fell silent.

No one had the guts to ask him to finish. Either that, or they already knew the answer.

“The ice will what?” Colin asked.

Mansfield swallowed hard. “It’ll cut her in half.”

Abaft
—Toward The Aft

aft—
the rear of a ship, or stern

amidships—
in the center of a ship

barque
—a three to five-masted ship with all masts square-rigged except the aftermast, which is fore-and-aft rigged

barquentine
—a three to five-masted ship with a square-rigged foremast but fore-and-aft rigged mainmast and mizzenmast

batten
(n)—a narrow wooden strip of wood

batten
(v)—to fasten or secure with a batten

bilge—
the lowest part of a ship’s hull

bilge pump—
a pump to rid the bilge of water that has leaked in b
oom—
the horizontal spar used to support the bottom edge of a sail

bow—
the front of a ship b
owsprit—
the spar extending from the bow of a ship

brash ice—
ground-up ice floes and lumps of snow with a puddinglike texture

bulkhead—
an upright partition that separates compartments of a ship

ulwarks—
the sides of a ship, above the upper deck

cairn—
a pile of stones used as a landmark

calve
(v)—to break off (as in a mass of ice)

come about—
to change direction by tacking

crosstrees—
the intersection of the mast and the yardarm, on a full-rigged mast
crosswind—
a wind that blows
across
a ship, as opposed to a
tailwind
or
headwind encroach—
to move in beyond the usual boundaries

fo’c’sle
—short for
forecastle;
the crew’s quarters, usually in a ship’s bow

foremast—
the mast at the bow end of a ship

foretop—
the platform at the top of the foremast on a square-rigged ship

freshening wind—
a wind whose strength is increasing

fulmar—
a seabird related to the
petrel

gaff-rigged—
an arrangement of sails in which a slanted spar (an extension from the mast) supports the top side of the sail

galley—
a ship’s kitchen

gallows—
the enclosed storage area for spare masts and sails

greenheart—
a dark greenish wood, known for its durability, from a South American evergreen tree

groaner—
an ice floe that makes a groaning sound as it grinds against the edge of another floe

gunwale—
the highest edge of a ship’s hull

halyard—
the rope used to raise sails

hardtack—
a hard, plain biscuit made of flour and water

heave to
(past tense,
hove to)—
to turn a ship’s bow into the wind and let the ship stay adrift in preparation for a storm

heel
(v)—to lean to one side due to wind or waves

high following sea—
how the sea appears behind a ship when it is traveling down a swell

hob—
a protrusion over or in a fireplace on which to hang an object to be heated

hull—
the frame, or body, of a ship

hummock—
a ridge of ice

iceberg—
a large mass of floating ice broken off
(calved)
from shelf ice or from a glacier

ice floe—
a flat, floating fragment of sea ice

ice flower—
a flowerlike formation of ice, sometimes occurring in fields

ice shelf
(also
shelf ice)—
an ice sheet that begins on land and extends into the water, resting on the sea bottom

ice shower—
frozen mist falling to the earth as ice crystals

jib—
a triangular sail at the bow, supported at the bottom by a jibboom

jibe—
to move sails from one side to the other while sailing into the wind in order to change a ship’s direction

keel—
the central timber at the bottom of a ship, running from bow to stern

lay to—
to bring a ship to a stop in open water, facing the wind

lead
(n)—a path of water through pack ice

leaden sea—
dull gray sea

lee—
the side sheltered from the wind

list
(v)—to tilt to one side

mainmast—
the second mast from the bow after foremast (middle mast on the
Mystery)

mainsail—
the bottom sail on the mainmast

mast—
the vertical pole that supports sails

mizzenmast
(or
mizzen)—
the sail on the aft end of a ship (the third sail on the
Mystery)

mush—
to travel over snow with a dogsled

nor’easter—
a strong wind from the northeast, usually accompanied by a storm

old ice—
ice floes that have remained unmelted from previous seasons, usually dense and hummocky

pack ice—
a mass of floating ice caused by the crushing together of floes and brash

pancake ice—
seawater frozen into patches of rubbery consistency

pea coat—
a short, double-breasted, heavy woolen coat worn by sailors

pemmican—
food made from dried beef and filler such as flour, molasses, or dried fruit

petrel—
a small, long-winged bird

port—
the left side of a ship (as you face the bow)

pressure ridge—
ice that has been pushed upward between colliding ice floes

Primus stove—
a small, portable metal stove consisting of one burner and a wire platform over it

pudding ice—
see
brash

ice rigging—
the arrangement of sails, spars, and ropes

rime—
tufts of ice or frost formed by water vapor freezing on contact with a solid object

rudder—
a plate mounted at the ship’s stern for directing its course

sastruga
(pl.,
sastrugi
)—a long wavelike ridge of snow, formed by the wind

sheet—
a rope, attached to the bottom of a sail, used to change the angle of the angle relative to the wind

ship water
(v)—to take in water over the ship’s hull

short’sail
—less then a full arrangement of sails

sledge—
a sled used for transporting loads over the ice

spar—
a pole that supports sails and rigging

square-rigged—
an arrangement of square-shaped sails

starboard—
the right side of a ship (as you face the bow)

stave in
(past tense,
stove in)—
to smash or crush inward

staysail—
a triangular sail supported by a rope (a stay) instead of a mast

stream ice—
pack ice containing leads

tack—
to change the direction of a ship,

tiller—
a lever with which to turn a rudder and steer a boat

trace(s)—
strap(s) connecting a harnessed dog to a sledge

water sky—
a dark streak on the horizon that indicates open ocean