Insta ltly Buddington ordered the engine into full reverse. The screw be it the water into a greenish froth while the hull painfully wriggled its way off the island. Men held their breath and gripped the hand ails while the ship struggled to free herself.

Runring the prop in reverse carried a danger of its own. Adjacent blocks of floating ice, drawn in by the suction of the propeller, closed about the screw like wolves on a wounded deer. The blades struck ore mound after another. Chunks of ice flew into the air and spattered the stern before littering the foaming sea with ivory chips.

The bronze blades bent in the process.

Below decks the engineer Schuman sensed the stress on the screw and signaled frantically to the bridge. Another minute might see the driveshaft snap. Reluctantly Buddington ordered the engine shut down. With a groan the ship settled onto the ice and heeled onto its side, once more resuming its familiar angle.

Two days into their escape, the Arctic ice had recaptured the Polaris. Polaris. More ice gathered around the free side of the ship, packing around the hull. New ice quickly formed between the blocks, sealing the openings until the spidery rime once again entrapped the More ice gathered around the free side of the ship, packing around the hull. New ice quickly formed between the blocks, sealing the openings until the spidery rime once again entrapped the Polaris Polaris in an icy coc.o.o.n. in an icy coc.o.o.n.

Chester barked an order, and men leaped onto the floe to drive ice screw > and anchors into the solid surface to keep the ship from rocking t3 pieces. Within an hour stout lines secured the bow and stern.

Just 120 miles south of the farthest point the Polaris Polaris had sailed, Arctic ice again ensnared the woeful ship. Slowly the sailors walked along the deck peering down at the ice encasing their home. For all their efforts to escape the clutches of the Arctic, little good had come of t. In fact, they were considerably worse off. Providence Berg, desoite splitting apart, had remained grounded on the shallow floor of Thank G.o.d Harbor, thereby offering some degree of protection. The floe that presently held them was adrift. Like a flea riding the back of a dog, the had sailed, Arctic ice again ensnared the woeful ship. Slowly the sailors walked along the deck peering down at the ice encasing their home. For all their efforts to escape the clutches of the Arctic, little good had come of t. In fact, they were considerably worse off. Providence Berg, desoite splitting apart, had remained grounded on the shallow floor of Thank G.o.d Harbor, thereby offering some degree of protection. The floe that presently held them was adrift. Like a flea riding the back of a dog, the Polaris Polaris no longer controlled its destiny. Worse still, they had burned two more days' worth of their irreplaceable coal and bent their propeller blades. no longer controlled its destiny. Worse still, they had burned two more days' worth of their irreplaceable coal and bent their propeller blades.

Paradoxically the ship appeared to be moving north north at times! While the current generally moved from north to south, strong southerly winds buffeted the pack and pushed the ice floe north, preventing it from drifting down the coast. Not only had the region recaptured the retreating expedition, it appeared to be drawing the ship back into its northern lair. at times! While the current generally moved from north to south, strong southerly winds buffeted the pack and pushed the ice floe north, preventing it from drifting down the coast. Not only had the region recaptured the retreating expedition, it appeared to be drawing the ship back into its northern lair.

The grounding on the ice floe reactivated Buddington's worst fears. The very danger he had worked so hard to avoid had come to pa.s.s. He and his ship were trapped in the ice fields. If they could not free the Polaris, Polaris, surely starvation and cannibalism awaited them. Visions of Sir Hugh Willoughby's Muscovy Company sailing ship drifting onto the sh.o.r.es of Lapland with its ghastly cargo of frozen corpses probably haunted his dreams. Even though Sir Hugh's catastrophe had occurred three hundred years before, its dreadful image frequented all the recent publications, adding color to a long string of Arctic disasters that led up to Sir John Franklin's. Ironically the surely starvation and cannibalism awaited them. Visions of Sir Hugh Willoughby's Muscovy Company sailing ship drifting onto the sh.o.r.es of Lapland with its ghastly cargo of frozen corpses probably haunted his dreams. Even though Sir Hugh's catastrophe had occurred three hundred years before, its dreadful image frequented all the recent publications, adding color to a long string of Arctic disasters that led up to Sir John Franklin's. Ironically the Polaris Polaris expedition would contribute to the tales, and it would not be the last calamity. expedition would contribute to the tales, and it would not be the last calamity.

Two days pa.s.sed before the ice resorted to its old trick of nipping the ship's sides. Hummocks piled into the free side of the Polaris Polaris with sufficient force to raise the keel and increase the angle of heeling. Panic swept the crew, and Buddington prepared to abandon ship. Supplies littered the deck, readily located for heaving onto the ice should the worst happen. Later that evening another onrush of ice battered the ship again. Heeling increased dramatically while the men looked wistfully at open water miles beyond their reach. with sufficient force to raise the keel and increase the angle of heeling. Panic swept the crew, and Buddington prepared to abandon ship. Supplies littered the deck, readily located for heaving onto the ice should the worst happen. Later that evening another onrush of ice battered the ship again. Heeling increased dramatically while the men looked wistfully at open water miles beyond their reach.

A southwest gale added to the men's anxiety and discomfort. Freezing rain pelted the deck and coated every exposed fitting and line with ice. The angled deck became a skating rink, ready to send the unwary crashing into the lifelines. Exposed skin froze to lashings on contact, and strips of skin tore away when the limb pulled free.

Encrusted doors refused to close, blocks froze to their tackle,and icy latlines proved so treacherous that climbing to the crow's nest risked life and limb. Even so, Chester and Tyson climbed daily to the topmast to search for a way out. The swirling mist and sea fog parted at times to reveal tantalizing glimpses of open water. Always, however, white walls rose in defiance between the ship and their freedom.

Throjghout this icy rain, the crew fretted through a deadly game of blindman's bluff. Not a day pa.s.sed without some monstrous, milky hillock emerging from the freezing mist to bear down on the tethered Polaris. Polaris. With singular purpose one or more would cruise stiaight for the vessel, threatening to crush it against the frozen expanse at its back. By hauling on the bow and stern lines, the crew could warp the ship fore and aft to evade the onrush. The work was deadly and disheartening. By using blocks and tackle, the capstan, md even raw muscle, the lines would be pulled in to swing the ship away from the path of the charging mountain of ice. Not unlike dr iwing on strings to turn a child's puppet, the action would pivot the vessel. But this puppet weighed four hundred tons. Around tlie clock the a.s.saults continued until the sailors strained at their lines with numbed minds as well as hands. With singular purpose one or more would cruise stiaight for the vessel, threatening to crush it against the frozen expanse at its back. By hauling on the bow and stern lines, the crew could warp the ship fore and aft to evade the onrush. The work was deadly and disheartening. By using blocks and tackle, the capstan, md even raw muscle, the lines would be pulled in to swing the ship away from the path of the charging mountain of ice. Not unlike dr iwing on strings to turn a child's puppet, the action would pivot the vessel. But this puppet weighed four hundred tons. Around tlie clock the a.s.saults continued until the sailors strained at their lines with numbed minds as well as hands.

Pressure on the weakened hull continually mounted as the oncoming ice packed tighter and tighter against the exposed flank of the ship. The leaking seams and split boards opened wider as the jaws of the vise inexorably tightened. Again Buddington turned to pumping by the steam donkey. With all hands occupied in moving the ship back and forth along their tightrope, no one could be spared to work the hand pumps on deck.

As th.3 ship drifted back and forth with the floe, the opalescent walls of tie Humboldt Glacier shimmered and glistened to the east, guarded by an armada of chalky icebergs pa.s.sing in review down Smith Sound. Behind this floating wall, the pale lavender and blue mountains of Greenland beckoned like soundless sirens to the helpless crew. On August 25 Joseph Mauch penned words that reflected the prevailing gloom that gripped his shipmates as they watched land pa.s.s out of reach: "The ice is opening a few hundred yards from us, but so little that we cannot take advantage of it. The officers are, of course, aware that, ten chances to one, we are lost if we should net be able to reach land."

For the rest of August and most of September, the ice retained its hold on the Polaris. Polaris. No further gales roared up the sound. Instead, fog and freezing drizzle filled the days, alternating with cold, diamond-clear periods during which the hard reflection of the sun off the ice burned everyone's eyes. The absence of stiff winds proved a curse rather than a blessing. Without wind to roil the water, no waves broke the deepening ice, and the swirling current drifted the intact ice pack north and south, east and west. Dead reckoning and celestial sightings noted little progress to the south. Most days the ship moved less than a mile in any direction. Paradoxically the men now prayed for a gale to release them. No further gales roared up the sound. Instead, fog and freezing drizzle filled the days, alternating with cold, diamond-clear periods during which the hard reflection of the sun off the ice burned everyone's eyes. The absence of stiff winds proved a curse rather than a blessing. Without wind to roil the water, no waves broke the deepening ice, and the swirling current drifted the intact ice pack north and south, east and west. Dead reckoning and celestial sightings noted little progress to the south. Most days the ship moved less than a mile in any direction. Paradoxically the men now prayed for a gale to release them.

Distressingly the sun wearied of sailing aloft as it had during the summer and dipped below the horizon for the first time since April. Taking their cue from the departing warmth, birds and animals fled southward, leaving the stranded ship alone in the ice. Seal sightings grew scarce. By the end of August, the only sign of life seen all day was one ivory gull winging its way south. Buddington's fears of starving grew closer to reality. No longer could the party rely upon the Inuit to provide fresh meat. All that remained were the tinned foodstuffs, and Buddington's calculations raised doubts there would be enough to feed all of them until next April.

Everywhere the region seemed to be settling into the steely grip of the coming winter. The air grew heavy and thick with the cold, and the earthy scents of the land disappeared. Once more the ear-shattering silence of the dreaded Arctic night crept forward to m.u.f.fle the world.

Unlike the Ancient Mariner's predicament, fresh water was abundant for the trapped men. Melted portions of the glacial ice and snow filled the hollows of the ice pack with pools of fresh water. Daily parties of men crossed the ice to fill their buckets and casks with brackish water to drink and feed to the steam boilers. As the temperature fell and the pools froze, they cut blocks of ice from the icebergs.

More coal vanished in fruitless attempts to break free. One long day of working the hand lines and using the steam engine moved the vessel less than its own length. Nine hundred pounds of coal per day vanished into the firebox of the steam pumps. Chester and Schuman struggled to reduce the constant flow of water from the cracks. Ninety fathoms of chain was fed into the forepeak in an effort to freeze the water in the forward hold in hopes this might slow the influx of seawater.

Tarred sailcloth was fed under the bows and winched tightly against the damaged side. Called "thrumming," the process involved piercing the sailcloth with an awl and feeding short strips of yarn thrcugh each of the hundreds of holes. In theory the suction of the leak would draw the yarn into the holes and bind the canvas against tie ship's hull. In practice thrumming a sail worked well and had saved many a ship from a watery grave. But that was in warmer waters. Encountering frigid air and icy water, the tarred canvas froze into an inflexible sheet too stiff to closely enfold the damaged hull.

The thud of caulking hammers driving oak.u.m into the cracks rang for days. In the end the leaks proved worse.

Schuinan abandoned his attempts to stop the leaks and turned his attention to reducing the coal needed to run the pumps. Besides having a large firebox, the steam donkey labored far in excess of its intended purpose. Originally designed only to transfer water to the engine boilers, the overstressed steam pumps kept the ship afloat by their continuous use, something they had never been built to do. Their breakdowns frayed the crew's nerves and kept Schuman busy with emergency repairs. He settled upon a small boiler designed to aid the combustion nozzles in the engine room. The men brought it on deck nd bolted it down. Ingeniously the engineer redirected the small boiler's smokestack through Ebierbing's cabin to provide extra heatir g for the Inuit while the machine fired.

By the twenty-third of September, Schuman had the little machine wo rking well enough to replace the steam donkey. As he had hoped, it did cut down considerably on the amount of coal needed to do the job. Only 350 pounds of fuel per day emptied the holds of water. However, their respite did not last long. Six days of heavy use burned up the boiler beyond repair. The end of September found thti Polaris Polaris with less than twenty tons of coal left. Forced back to burning close to half a ton of coal a day just to keep from sinking, by November the with less than twenty tons of coal left. Forced back to burning close to half a ton of coal a day just to keep from sinking, by November the Polaris Polaris would be out of coal to fire its engines. Hall had stored enough coal for two and one-half years, but the leaks had drastically altered fuel consumption. would be out of coal to fire its engines. Hall had stored enough coal for two and one-half years, but the leaks had drastically altered fuel consumption.

Buddington prepared for the worst. Should the pumps fail or the ship's side be crushed by the ice, the vessel would sink within minutes. Following Captain Hall's lead, he moved stores necessary for survival topside. The storm staysail and gaff-topsails were cut up and sewn into seabags. Bags filled with two tons of coal and loaves of bread joined the growing piles of tinned goods, twenty barrels of pork, and cans of mola.s.ses heaped by the guardrails. One remaining whaleboat was lowered onto the ice and the last remaining skiff unlashed from the cabin roof and swung over the side on davits, ready for fast deployment.

Probably to keep Captain Tyson occupied, Buddington bestowed upon him the grandiose but hollow t.i.tle of "master builder" and ordered him to construct a tent on the ice beside the ship. During the construction, they discovered that the ice surrounding the Polaris Polaris measured six feet thick. Sinking poles into the ice for support and lashing the crossbeams together, Tyson, Morton, Mauch, Bryan, and Ebierbing built a frame twenty-seven feet long and twenty-five feet wide. The canvas used to house the deck during the winter at Thank G.o.d Harbor enclosed the tent. Eight hundred pounds of bread was stacked in canvas bags beside the shelter. Within days of the food transfer, a polar bear approached the camp, probably attracted by the smell. Two rifle shots wounded the animal without bringing it down. Half the crew took out after the fleeing bear, but it escaped. By week's end tracks of three more bears crossed close to the cache of bread. measured six feet thick. Sinking poles into the ice for support and lashing the crossbeams together, Tyson, Morton, Mauch, Bryan, and Ebierbing built a frame twenty-seven feet long and twenty-five feet wide. The canvas used to house the deck during the winter at Thank G.o.d Harbor enclosed the tent. Eight hundred pounds of bread was stacked in canvas bags beside the shelter. Within days of the food transfer, a polar bear approached the camp, probably attracted by the smell. Two rifle shots wounded the animal without bringing it down. Half the crew took out after the fleeing bear, but it escaped. By week's end tracks of three more bears crossed close to the cache of bread.

October ended their two-month respite. Just as the donkey steam pump broke down yet again, new and dramatic events gripped the ice floe and its captive sailing ship. The ice started to move. First, the vast island swung slowly around until the bow of the ship faced directly west. Then a gale struck from the south, creating waves and troughs that crumpled the weaker parts of the ice. Hills and hummocks rose before the men's eyes, accompanied by grinding noises that reverberated throughout the ship. Giant, razor-sharp shards pierced the frozen seascape surrounding them and tumbled over close by. Any one of these frozen knives striking the ship could easily hole the wooden hull beyond all repair.

Resigned to the fate of spending another winter locked in Smith Sound, the crew found themselves propelled backward by the sudden and swift movement of the ice southward. Snowfall accompanied the storm, obscuring any sun sight. Meyer used land bearings to place the Polaris Polaris at 7845' N. The next day he reckoned the ship to be 12 miles from Cape Grinnell. They had drifted south another 120 miles in a matter of days. at 7845' N. The next day he reckoned the ship to be 12 miles from Cape Grinnell. They had drifted south another 120 miles in a matter of days.

Spirits rose. Their floating world approached the northern outlet of Baffin Bay. At this rate they would soon drift within reach of help. Once the vessel entered Baffin Bay, it would float with the pack until spring melted the ice. Besides, each mile brought the ship closer to Disko, where a storehouse of coal and food awaited.

But progress came with a price. Pressure increased on the ship's sides, and the vessel protested constantly with nerve-racking creaks and snaps and fresh leaks. Buddington redoubled his preparations to abandDn ship. The men piled a total of eighteen hundred pounds of bread about the tent. All items necessary for survival were brought topside and stacked for quick access. Should the ship suffer a fatal blow, the plan was to heave the goods onto the ice. Yet the unstable nature of their surroundings prevented moving the items off the boat until the last moment. To place all their supplies on the ice would be to risk losing everything should the ship break free or the tent be swallowed by a sudden opening in the island. Crates of tinned pemmican, tobacco, and hams rose on the deck in preparation. Piles of musk ox hides joined the jumble until walking about became difficult. Below decks prudent sailors stuffed their belongings into seabags and waited.

A DREADFUL N NIGHT.

The ice was here, the ice was there,The ice was all around:It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,Like noises in a swound. ... ...-SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE, "THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER"

They wouldn't have long to wait. Late in the day on October 15, the sky grew threatening. Dark clouds gathered to the northwest and steadily advanced in a glowering ma.s.s of molten lead until the edge of the storm hung over the ship like a black pall. Ominously the wind died down. An oppressive stillness pressed down upon the ship. The nervous banter of the deckhands trailed off until the only sound heard was the creak of the ice-encrusted deck as the men moved warily about.

As if spurred on by the coming gale, the stretch of ice that encompa.s.sed the Polarises Polarises world surged forward, dragging the ship along. Out of the icy mists, two ghostly mountains rose directly ahead. Shimmering and sliding silently through the water, these icebergs loomed like twin giants, drawing ever closer to the ship. world surged forward, dragging the ship along. Out of the icy mists, two ghostly mountains rose directly ahead. Shimmering and sliding silently through the water, these icebergs loomed like twin giants, drawing ever closer to the ship.

Men standing their watch gasped as their drift drew them inexorably toward their doom. The ship was trapped in the floe, and there was no possibility of escape. Within minutes the floe bearing its puny vessel would crash into the frozen giants. If the ship did not hit one of them directly, the pileup of the oncoming ice pack into the icebergs would surely shatter the expanse of ice surrounding them and crush the hull like a paper cup.

Just then the gale struck from the northwest. Snow, mist, and ice crystals swirled about the air. Visibility dropped to mere inches in front cf the men's faces, punctuated by fleeting glimpses of the ice and w iter when the wind scattered the snow.

The ice field swung around with the storm and drove between the two towering mountains. The floe shuddered to a halt upon impact. High-pitched screams emanated from the icebergs as slabs weighing tons sheared from their sides to tumble onto the floe.

Resembling an earthquake opening fissures, the impact buckled the floe and sent spidery cracks racing outward from the point of impact. Close behind these widening fissures, the ice rose and heaved like falling dominoes. The crumpled ridge rushed toward the trapped ship like an ivory tidal wave.

Then it struck the ship. Crumpling, cracking, and twisting, the enormous sheet of frozen water encasing the Polaris Polaris exploded into fragments. The force lifted the exploded into fragments. The force lifted the Polaris Polaris bodily and drove it onto its port side. Shuddering and trembling from the pressure, the vessel wrenched out of its frozen bed and rode up onto the ice. A cleat securing ore of the ice anchors pulled free with a sharp crack and vanished over the side with the hawser. Heavy oak timbers groaned and snapped, mostly abaft the beam. The stern section appeared to split in two. bodily and drove it onto its port side. Shuddering and trembling from the pressure, the vessel wrenched out of its frozen bed and rode up onto the ice. A cleat securing ore of the ice anchors pulled free with a sharp crack and vanished over the side with the hawser. Heavy oak timbers groaned and snapped, mostly abaft the beam. The stern section appeared to split in two.

A tortured groan wrenched George Tyson from his deep sleep and caused him to sit bolt upright in his narrow bunk. Flakes of frost from condensed moisture on the walls rained down on him as the ship's sides trembled. The cold flakes stung his face like needles and brought him fully awake.

Grop ng within the blackness of the cabin, his fingers touched the rough oak walls of the ship, an act of rea.s.surance every mariner performs when frightened. No sounds of rushing water reached his ears; no streams of freezing water met his touch. The solid sides were still intact. Tyson murmured a prayer, and he calmed himself.

Tyson c.o.c.ked his ear, uncertain of what exactly was happening. As a.s.sistant navigator of the expedition, his twenty years sailing the Arctic ha d prepared him for the creaks and sounds each ship makes as it lives uneasily among the ice. No vessel ever masters the Arctic seas. Ratier, the ma.s.sive bergs and blocks of ice permit permit a ship to exist. Already cracked and leaking, the a ship to exist. Already cracked and leaking, the Polaris Polaris had plenty of reason to protest the pressure of the ice, but these sounds were different more intense, more ... painful. had plenty of reason to protest the pressure of the ice, but these sounds were different more intense, more ... painful.

Tyson blinked in the dark. He must get topside, he realized. A feeble shaft of light marked the forward ladder. Another, lesser moan followed the first, this one issuing from the ribs of the ship itself. It was as if the Polaris Polaris were being tortured, crying out in pain with each blow to its sides. were being tortured, crying out in pain with each blow to its sides.

Suddenly the vessel lurched violently to port, throwing Tyson from his bunk.

"We are sinking!" The shout came from the deck. Another roll followed close on the cry, and a sharp grinding shook the keel. Above his head running feet thudded across the deck, mixing with the sc.r.a.pe of sliding crates.

A voice he recognized as belonging to Campbell, the fireman, screamed down the hatch: "The ice has driven through the side!"

Instantly Tyson leaped to his feet and bounded up the ladder. A wall of frigid air struck his lungs as he skidded onto the ice-rimmed deck. His bare fingers caught the rigging to keep his balance. The frozen cordage burned like molten iron.

The perpetual gloom of the Arctic winter provided scarcely more light than his darkened room, but he could see the faint outlines of the forecastle rising like a dark wedge into the inky sky. Snow and sleet peppered his face, blinding him at times. Squinting through the mist, he forced his eyelids to remain open. What he managed to see chilled his heart.

Surrounding the ship, ice floes and jumbled pack ice hovered in the blowing snow like ghostly specters. Two monstrous icebergs threatened the ship from both sides. At first Tyson thought the bergs had struck the ship, but a swirl of the snow revealed that not to be the case. The bergs had struck the ice floe instead, he realized.

A body tumbled past Tyson, striking his left leg on the way by. The tilt of the deck had slid the crew against the port railings, cl.u.s.tering them in a bunch like ninepins near the waist of the vessel. Those who could stand peered over the railing. Tyson slipped and skated to them and followed their gaze over the side.

Razor ridges of ice pressed against the ship's sides, compressing the timbers and forcing the Polaris Polaris upward until the scarred iron and copper sheeting lay exposed to the frigid air. Cl.u.s.ters of barnacles and patches of sea gra.s.s, the ship's watery beard, coated the edges of jce that had sheared them from the hull. Ironically, the cracked timbers that had eluded repair rode high above the water. upward until the scarred iron and copper sheeting lay exposed to the frigid air. Cl.u.s.ters of barnacles and patches of sea gra.s.s, the ship's watery beard, coated the edges of jce that had sheared them from the hull. Ironically, the cracked timbers that had eluded repair rode high above the water.

Quickly Tyson skated to the starboard rail.

Solid ice gripped that side as well. The blowing wind and waves had forced frozen hummocks and knife-sharp sastrugi sastrugi against the floe to which the against the floe to which the Polaris Polaris was moored. Adding to this, the ma.s.sive weight of the two icebergs leaned against the crumpled edge of the ice field. Thousands of tons of frozen water now pressed against the trapped ship. Between these jaws the was moored. Adding to this, the ma.s.sive weight of the two icebergs leaned against the crumpled edge of the ice field. Thousands of tons of frozen water now pressed against the trapped ship. Between these jaws the Polaris Polaris was being crushed. was being crushed.

A well-founded vessel, designed for such a contingency, would wriggle free of the closing jaws and rise above the crushing forces. Thus, resiing on top of the ice, it would lie safely while the vast pack of ic e shifted and moved inexorably north or south with the ocean's current. Now the navy's decision to cut costs by reusing the unsuitably shaped narrow hull of the old Periwinkle Periwinkle would threaten the lives of all aboard. would threaten the lives of all aboard.

To Tyson's alarm the starboard side of the vessel still lay within the frozer jaws, while the port side obediently rode above the danger. Each gust of wind drew protests from the groaning hull as the ice tightened.

Just then Schuman, the engineer, burst from the aft companion-way, shouting in German as he flailed his arms. His feet slipped on the ic> deck, and he bowled into the crew cl.u.s.tered by the railing. Tysoi grasped the officer by his collar and dragged him to his feet.

"Speak English!" he ordered. "What is it? What's the matter?"

"We're sinking!" Schuman stuttered. "The ice has opened the seams. Many new leaks," he gasped.

A terrified moan arose from the deckhands. Their widened eyes, glowing white even in the darkness, signaled they were close to panic. If the ship sank, all were lost. Not only were there no other ships within hundreds of miles, but the nearest settlements were also hundreds of miles south. Those who made it to an island of ice were doomed to a drawn-out death from frostbite and starvation. With the seawater temperature at 28F, no man would last longer th.m fifteen minutes. Anyone who fell into the sea would drown as the cold robbed his muscles of any strength. More than a few minutes in the water so stiffened the small muscles of the hands that a man could not grasp a rescue line.

"The pumps, man," Tyson said as he shook the engineer, "start the pumps!"

Schuman shook his head. "We are pumping, but it does no good. The water is gaining on the pumps. It rushes into the hold. We are lost!"

Tyson released his grip on his fellow officer as a shaft of light flashed in the doorway of the master's cabin. It was Captain Buddington.

Hauling himself along the lifelines, Tyson slid to the sailing master. "The ship is being strongly nipped, sir," he yelled over the howl of the wind. "Schuman says the seams have opened and the pumps cannot keep up."

Buddington stared uncomprehendingly at Tyson. The captain's breath reeked of alcohol. His eyes blinked rapidly while his lips moved, but no words came out. Now more than ever, Tyson wished for the solid, st.u.r.dy face of Captain Hall. Unflappable in any emergency, the late captain was sorely needed.

"We are sinking!" Schuman screamed through the blowing snow. "Sinking!"

As if responding to the engineer's cries, the Polaris Polaris lurched farther to one side and rose by the bow as the ice pack shifted. lurched farther to one side and rose by the bow as the ice pack shifted.

Schuman's words and the ship's movement galvanized Buddington. He rushed forward to the crew, waving both arms at the pile of supplies lashed to the center of the deck. Heavier supplies like the bags of coal were stacked forward, while ammunition, rifles, and lighter boxes had been collected aft.

Buddington threw his arms up in the air and yelled: "Throw everything onto the ice!"

Gustavus Lindquist and Peter Johnson spun about at these startling words. Other sailors stopped and cast nervous glances at one another. Had they misunderstood the captain? Was the ship really sinking? During previous threats of swamping, calm orders were issued and goods transferred safely onto the ice until the danger pa.s.sed. Surely all was not lost?

Buddington answered their unspoken questions. "Work for your lives boys!" he bellowed.

Panic erupted. Terror-stricken, the crew rushed about cutting the lashings and flinging whatever they s.n.a.t.c.hed over the railings on both sides. Boxes and crates flew into the darkness and the swirling snow. All the while the Polaris Polaris rose and fell with the rolling ice and roiling waves from the growing storm. The sway of the hull and the force of the storm opened wide gaps in the ice that moments before had encased the ship. Level floors of ice cracked and drew apa^t like broken china. Other sections tumbled and overturned as the supporting sea roiled beneath its frozen roof. Blinded by their fears as well as the pelting snow, the men worked feverishly and foolishly. Superhuman strength imbued many and galvanized those who saw their impending death. rose and fell with the rolling ice and roiling waves from the growing storm. The sway of the hull and the force of the storm opened wide gaps in the ice that moments before had encased the ship. Level floors of ice cracked and drew apa^t like broken china. Other sections tumbled and overturned as the supporting sea roiled beneath its frozen roof. Blinded by their fears as well as the pelting snow, the men worked feverishly and foolishly. Superhuman strength imbued many and galvanized those who saw their impending death.

One man single-handedly pushed a sled through the gangway and hefte 1 it over the side. Not waiting to see where it landed, he rushed aft to help empty the deck of the goods stacked there. Boxes of ammunition, stacks of rifles and revolvers, tins of preserved fruit cascaded off the ship and rained into the darkness.

Over :he roar of the wind, Tyson heard a splash. He leaned far over the port railing. To his horror he saw the results of the hurried evacuatio i.

Most of the supplies were falling into the sea.

The navigator's heart sank as he watched box after box vanish beneath the dark waters or shatter as the roll of the ship against the ice crushed and splintered the crates. Cans and crates bobbed in the open gaps. From the corner of his eye, Tyson saw Joe and Hans, the two E >kimo hunters, slip over the railing onto a crust of solid ice and begin to drag what they could onto the ice floe. The Natives had kept their heads while the "educated and civilized" crew lost theirs.

A crash caught Tyson's attention. The last remaining whaleboat thudded to the ice as the desperate men cut the lines to its davits. It slid back off the ice, coming to rest half in the water. The oars and sails for the boat rattled against its plank sides. Floating against the churning dull, the longboat risked being instantly crushed.

"The provisions are sinking!" Tyson shouted to his befuddled skipper.

"Move them back!" Buddington ordered.

The a.s.sistant navigator jumped down and s.n.a.t.c.hed a box from certain doom. He struggled with the whaleboat until more hands joined him. When he looked up, he could see a dozen others working on the ice. He wondered briefly whether Buddington had sent them down or whether the men had come on their own.

Gathering a working party, Tyson followed the Eskimo onto the jumbled ice away from the ship. In their wisdom the Natives were moving their possessions toward the pitched tent, where the ice appeared the thickest.

Aboard the ship Tookoolito watched Hans's wife leading her daughter toward the canvas tent. On her back the woman's newborn son, Charlie Polaris, slept contentedly. Tookoolito watched them vanish in the swirling snow before turning back to the companion-way. More of her possessions remained in their cabin. Extra furs, two seal-oil lamps, and her sewing kit were still below. Quickly she gathered these precious things up in her arms.

The simple lamps made by grinding a shallow depression in a flat stone would provide light and heat for her family on the ice. Filled with seal oil and regulated by a braided gra.s.s wick, the lamp was all they needed to warm an igloo. New wicks could be fashioned from sea gra.s.s stuffed inside her mukluks for insulation. Equally important was her sewing kit. With its bone needles and awls, Tookoolito could fashion new garments and repair torn ones. Those two items, the lamps and the sewing kit, ensured her family's survival. Without them they would be lost.

Coming up the steps, she encountered the oil-smudged face of Alvin Odell, the a.s.sistant engineer. The unspoken concern in her dark eyes caught his attention.

Odell stopped and laid his greasy hand on her shoulder. His gaze rested on the articles clutched tightly against her breast. The heavy hand patted her shoulder rea.s.suringly. "Don't worry, little lady," he chuckled. "We've got the leaks under control. We'll have you back on board before long."

Tookoolito followed Odell up the steps to the deck. He spotted Captain Buddington and headed over to him. The Inuit woman looked about at the confusion sweeping the foredeck. Buddington now added to her consternation by ordering her onto the ice.

Through the whistle of the wind, she heard her husband, Ebierbing, call her name. The snow parted to allow her a fleeting glimpse on him beckoning from the ice. Quietly Tookoolito slipped over the s de and dropped onto the ice. She would take her chances with her husband, she decided, rather than on this ship with its bad Inuu Inuu As she slipped onto the ice floe, Tookoolito carried one other precious thing. Gripped tightly in her arms was also a small wooden box given to her by her dying friend Charles Francis Hall. While Buddington and Bessel had collected all of Hall's papers upon his death, Tookoolito had hidden this small box of letters from them. Honoring Hall's dying wish, she protected and preserved them with her life.

Behind her Bryan and Meyer wrestled with chests filled with the expedition's scientific papers. Over the side Bryan tossed his own personal box with his private letters and notebooks. He and the meteorologist lifted case after case over the railing.

Hours pa.s.sed unnoticed as the men fished floating crates from the waves, wrestled them onto solid ice, and dragged them toward the center of the floe. In the darkness time had little meaning, especially while the fury of the storm mounted.

A disheartened Tyson finally dragged himself onto the ship to report his progress. What supplies they had salvaged were now cl.u.s.tered iround a whaleboat dragged to the most solid part of the floe. He estimated six thousand pounds of canned pemmican had sunk along with many bags of the precious coal. The helter-skelter jettisoning had proved ruinous. The bulk of the ship's emergency provisions littered the ocean floor.

As he reached Buddington, the ship shifted to port again, just as the ice released the starboard side of the Polaris. Polaris. Black open water swirled around the hull. Black open water swirled around the hull.

Both men stared at their reprieve. One side was now free. One jaw of the vise was gone. If the leaks could be contained, the ship would be saved.

"How much water is the vessel making?" Tyson asked anxiously.

Buddington grinned sheepishly and shrugged. "No more than usual," he answered. "When the bow rose, the water in the hold rushed forth. Schuman mistook that for a new leak. But he was mistaken. The vessel is strong." He gave a nervous laugh. Odell's second a.s.sessment had calmed his fears. "I guess we're not sinking after all. The engineer's first report was a false alarm."

The navigator studied the pumps. The steady clank of the steam donkey rea.s.sured him that it was pumping smoothly. Two men working the hand pump motioned to their hose. Water and air gushed out the nozzle. That pump was sucking air, Tyson realized. The bilge must be almost dry.

The storm permitted them no time at all to rejoice. A stiff gust of wind rattled the rigging and howled through the cross spars and showered them with shards of ice stripped from the fittings. The deck with all its frenzied activity vanished in a blanket of stinging ice crystals and snowflakes. The surrounding ice field groaned with the accompanying storm surge.

"Look." Tyson pointed to new cracks appearing about the ship. "The ice is breaking up even more." The vast floor of ice resumed its rising and falling in sections like waves, with cracks and fissures opening and closing with each shift. The clouds of snow parted to expose additional crates scattered about the port side of the vessel that Tyson and the men had missed.

Buddington's attention shifted to the precious supplies. "Mr. Tyson, get everything back as far as possible on the ice," he ordered.

Tyson nodded wearily and crawled down onto the floe to resume directing his exhausted men. Another hour pa.s.sed as the men slid and pushed the freight back from the cracking edges. In the whirling snow, visibility was cut to a few inches. The force of the blowing wind stung their faces, and the icy sleet cut the men's eyes whenever they faced into the gale. Half the time they stumbled blindly about while the ground under their feet writhed and turned like a living beast.