“Prince Otto,” I started, but he cut me off. “No, no, please call me Otto. Now look at that lush bougainvillea on that wall. And already we are cooler. It never gets hot in Zlatovica the way it does in Vespugia. Look! I think we’re nearly there.”
I got my backpack out from under my feet and pulled out a warm sweatshirt. Otto was wearing a beautiful rust-colored pullover that must have been hand-knit.
He said, “All my heavy stuff was sent from Zlatovica directly to the dock. Forgive me, Vicky, if I dash out and check everything to see that it’s all here.”
The bus pulled up at the dock and as I looked at the waiting Argosy it didn’t seem much bigger than the ferry we used to take to the Island, but of course it was completely different. Our bags were being taken from carts and piled up on the dock, and I was relieved to recognize mine in one of the piles. Otto was running up and down, checking his luggage, which included wooden boxes as well as a couple of small trunks. He turned to Jorge for help in communicating with the dock-hands, and the men, sweaty from heaving luggage, nodded and called over a couple of extra men to help them with the boxes.
We went up the gangplank onto the main deck, where we waited for our cabin keys. I heard one of the Argosy people calling out that the wooden boxes were to go to Prince Otto’s suite, and should be handled with care.
While I was waiting for my key, Otto came over to me. “I hope you have a pleasant cabin, Vicky. I’ll see you later.”
Finally the line at the desk dwindled and it was my turn, and a smiling, uniformed man handed me a key. “This is for your cabin, Miss Austin, and you’ll find some information and a few other things there. Welcome.”
I had the marvelous luxury of a cabin to myself, thanks to Aunt Serena’s generous planning. I had enjoyed sharing the hotel room with Siri. It was sort of what I imagined boarding school would be like, and Siri and I had become really good friends in a very short time. But on the Argosy I was grateful for my own cabin, and that Cook and Sam were next door. When Cook left, Sam would have that cabin to himself. The cabins, with the exception of the suite, which Otto was in, were all identical, and not that big even for one person. There were two narrow bunks with a small chest of drawers between them, two very narrow closets, and a tiny bathroom with barely room for toilet, washbasin, and shower.
On one of my bunks was a bright red parka, which my packet of information had mentioned; all the passengers would be issued parkas, which would make us easy to identify. I used one of the drawers for my notebooks and other books, which I couldn’t have done if I’d had a roommate. I knew that the water would be rough, especially in the Drake Passage, and that it wasn’t a good idea to leave anything loose when the ship was rolling. We had just time to unpack and settle in before we sailed, after which the whole group was to meet in the lounge, one deck up, the same deck where we’d been given our keys.
The ship’s whistle blew, and I could hear the throbbing of engines, so I rushed up and out on deck. Everybody else had the same idea, but Cook was looking for me, so I hurried over to him. He turned away from the crowd of people at the rail, with their cameras and camcorders, taking pictures as the ship slowly eased away from the dock.
“Come,” he said. “I’ll show you a better place.” I followed him back into the ship, through the lounge, and out a door to a deck where there were only a few other people. “The fo’c’sle,” Cook said. “My favorite place. The moment before we sail is always exciting. I never get jaded.”
Otto was there before us, and beckoned us to come stand by him at the rail. He put his hand briefly on my arm and smiled at me. “Every minute, I find I am more and more looking forward to this trip.”
The door to the lounge opened and Sam came out, followed by Jorge with his enormous Hasselblad.
When the Argosy was clear of the shore and heading out to sea, an electronic bell rang, ding-dong (and ding-dong was what we quickly learned to call it), and a loudspeaker summoned us into the lounge. A lot of people were already at the tables, and Cook and I found seats with Angelique and Dick.
I saw Otto being beckoned to join a group of men at a table near ours, with Jorge Maldonado and Jack Nessinger. They were not speaking English, and I wasn’t sure what language it was. Dick remarked at the large group of foreigners on this trip, and that they were a rich mix, from Argentina to Zlatovica. A to Z.
“A real United Nations,” Sam said, coming over to us and pulling up a chair, which could move only a short distance because it was attached to the floor by a chain so that in rough weather the furniture would not crash about the cabin. “Many Europeans still smoke,” Sam said, “and we’re going to be divided into smokers and nonsmokers here and in the dining room. Okay if I sit with you as long as I don’t light my cigar?”
Dick laughed. “Feel free.”
Angelique said, “We’re delighted to have you with us.”
Cook ordered a Coke for me and joined the others in a glass of wine. I looked around the room, which had shelves stuffed with books on one side and a bar on the other—port and starboard sides, I guess. In the middle of the fore wall was the door that led to the fo’c’sle. Ropes were strung across the ceiling for holding on to when the sea was rough.
At Otto’s table several men, including Otto, lit cigarettes, and one of the crew came up and I could hear him saying that this was the nonsmoking section. “Of course,” Otto said, “sorry,” and stubbed out his cigarette. He was very nice about it, and so was Jorge, who was explaining to a couple of men who didn’t speak English. One of the men scowled and said something that sounded cross, and Jorge spoke to him, smiling, and they all began to laugh. For some reason they gave me an odd feeling, maybe because I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I thought of Suzy’s joke: “Just because I’m paranoid doesn’t mean I’m not being followed.”
I was on the Argosy. No reason to be paranoid, or to let my imagination go on running away with me. I was out of Vespugia. I turned my attention back to my table and my Coke and a dish of nuts, and listened to what was going on.
A youngish man in blue jeans and a bright red sweater came in and introduced himself as Quimby Forrest, known as Quim, and welcomed us. He was, he explained, more or less the master of ceremonies, and he would be outlining our schedule for us each day. He introduced us to the captain, who greeted us and then left to go back to the bridge. The four lecturers came up, one by one. First, Benjy, the penguin specialist. I looked at him with interest, because he’d be looking out for me after Cook left at Port Stanley. He had sun-bleached hair and a rough, ruddy complexion, as though he was out in the wind and sun a lot, and eyes that were bright chinks of green. Then came Gary, the paleontologist, tall and thin, with glasses with thick horn-rims. Todd, whose area was mammals, with an emphasis on whales, was next. He was short and stocky; and he was followed by Jason, the geologist, who was well over six feet tall, big-boned, with dark brown hair and big brown eyes. They all seemed knowledgeable and easy and ready to like all of us passengers. I immediately liked them, and recited their names to myself: Benjy, Gary, Todd, Jason.
When the introductions were over, Benjy came to our table and sat by Cook, putting an arm affectionately around his shoulder. The two of them were obviously good friends.
Quimby explained that when we got back to our cabins after dinner we’d find a schedule for the next day, but schedules wouldn’t be available ahead of time, because the decision of what to do wouldn’t be made until he and the captain had considered the weather and then decided what would be the most interesting places for us to go. And we were reminded that this was a research boat rather than a cruise ship, and that would affect our itinerary.
Quimby told us a little about efforts to make Antarctica a completely international community, designated as a demilitarized zone. “What we really hope for is a planetary international preserve.”
“Is such a thing possible?” Dick asked.
“Don’t be a pessimist,” Angelique remarked, as though this was a regular ref
rain.
“Now,” Quimby said, “let me explain your manifest numbers. You’ve probably noticed the big board just outside the lounge, here on the main deck, full of small yellow chips with your numbers on them. For all our shore excursions, you’ll turn your numbered chip from the yellow side to the red, and when you get back on the Argosy, from the red side to the yellow. That way we always know who’s left the ship, and we’ll know whether or not everybody has returned. Okay?”
Otto leaned over from his table and said to me, “That is a wise precaution. It is good to know everybody’s safe.”
Dinner was in a large dining room with open seating. There were wide windows on both sides of the ship, so there’d be beautiful views of wherever we were sailing. Cook held my arm as we went in, so we wouldn’t get separated. Sam was right: as I looked around, he was the oldest and I was the youngest passenger.
Siri and her roommate, whose name was Greta, were at our table. Greta was from Germany and spoke excellent, if heavily accented, English.
“Siri and I have much in common,” she said, “both of us being university professors. But I am tone deaf, alas, and cannot share her love for music.”
Although it was eight in the evening, we were eating in daylight, with the sun slanting across the water. As we moved south, the days would get longer and the nights shorter, until we reached the Antarctic continent, where there would be hardly any dark at all.
By the time we went to bed, we were still far enough north so that we were moving through a long twilight into night, and the curtains were drawn across my porthole. I took a shower and got into my bunk. I was still tired from jet lag and all the travel, though my jet lag must have been nothing compared to Otto’s. The boat was rocking slightly, like a great cradle. We were on the Argosy and Cook had relaxed. I went right to sleep.
I woke up feeling refreshed and ready for the day. At ten o’clock we had a boat drill, followed by a lecture from Benjy. All four of our lecturers really knew their stuff and had spent months at a time in Antarctica, living in tents or huts. Benjy had been there during the Antarctic winter, when it is always night and the cold is bitter and without relief. But he waxed absolutely lyrical, saying that his wife had decided he must have a mistress in Antarctica, he went so often. So he took her with him for one trip, and she understood that the land itself was the mistress.
He showed us slides of emperor penguins and their adorable chicks, and then slides of Adélie penguins, named for someone’s wife. “Yes, they have feathers,” he answered, and I heard the echo of Aunt Serena’s voice: “If it has feathers, it’s a bird. Anything with feathers, no matter what it looks like, and whether it can fly or not, is a bird.”
I took notes, thinking that Suzy would have loved such items of information as that Adélie penguins have seventy feathers per square inch. That’s a lot of feathers, but the penguins need them both in the water and for belly-flop landings when they ride the waves into shore.
Lunch was a buffet of all kinds of salads, cheese, breads, fruits. I sat with Cook and Sam, and three older women from Alaska. Otto was on the other side of the dining room with the smokers.
“Is Benjy’s wife with him on this trip?” Sam asked.
Leilia, the eldest of the three Alaskans, shook her head. “She died a couple of years ago. He’d have wasted away with grief if it hadn’t been for his penguins. He’s raised a lot of chicks from secondary eggs or eggs which were hatched too late for the fledglings to survive in the wild, and taking care of the eggs and the chicks is what’s kept him going.”
One of the other women nodded. “If you want to feel loved, all you need is a baby penguin. They are the cuddliest creatures imaginable.”
“What’s a secondary egg?” Sam asked.
Leilia explained. “Penguins lay two eggs, a large one and then a much smaller one, in case something happens to the primary egg.”
“You seem to know a lot about penguins,” Sam remarked.
“We”—Leilia looked at her companions—“worked with Benjy for a few weeks the year his wife died. He’s a fine scientist and one of the nicest guys you’ll ever meet. This is my third trip on the Argosy. I teach science in the high school in Fairbanks. We’re all teachers.”
Leilia’s two companions nodded. They were nice women, with sort of weathered faces, not ruddy like Benjy’s, but crinkly and creasy with lots of smile lines. All three had frizzy permanents, as though they’d given them to each other and not bothered much about them because their minds were on other, more important things. They looked comfortable and competent and as though they’d be good teachers who’d know what to do in a crisis.
After lunch I curled up on my bunk to write in my journal and fell asleep. I think most people took naps. When I woke up, the postcard Esteban had given me had slid out of my journal onto the floor, and I picked it up. At least I wasn’t likely to see either the pyramids or Esteban again, though he had really seemed nice, despite everything. Or maybe because of everything. Smitten with me, Sam had said, and he’d added later, “Don’t worry about Esteban, Vicky. Just remember that Vespugia is at present a fascist country and be grateful that you live in a democracy.” I was. And grateful that we’d left Vespugia and were on the Argosy.
At three we had another lecture, about whales and seals and other mammals. Todd, the mammal specialist, told us that the lecture room was familiarly known as the Womb Room, because it was low-ceilinged and warm, and darkened so that slides could be shown, and no matter how good the lecture was, people tended to fall asleep. He was right. I heard a couple of snores, even though Todd was fascinating, and not only about mammals. He talked about how important it was to declare Antarctica a global park. It’s the fifth-largest continent on the planet, much bigger than the U.S., and it’s the last totally free continent on earth, and Todd was passionate about having it stay that way. His controlled intensity over what he cared about reminded me of Adam.
He talked about the pack ice, which can freeze far beyond the tip of the Antarctic peninsula and out into the Drake Passage. When the Southern Ocean freezes, it’s a major planetary event. “The patterns of ocean circulation change,” he told us, “and affect the earth’s climate by shifting the direction of the atmospheric convection currents. If the planet’s weather warms too much, we won’t have the sixteen million square kilometers of pack ice we have now. That’s one-third of the continent which freezes and thaws every year.”
Someone asked, “Have you ever been here when the pack ice freezes?”
“Oh, sure. And it freezes audibly, with crackles and snaps.” Yes, I’d heard the ice in the brook at home freeze with a sound like a shot.
Someone else asked, “Do you know people from different national research stations?”
“Oh, yeah. We Antarctic freaks of numerous nationalities all get along pretty well together. We go to each other’s parties, visit each other’s stations, rescue each other in time of need. But our various countries bicker with very green eyes. See this map of Argentina?” The projector flashed a slide onto the screen, and he pointed with his wand. “See? It includes the Antarctic.” Click. “Chile. It includes the same prime piece of the Antarctic peninsula. Vespugia. The same. The British claim a lot of it, too. I wish governments didn’t think they have a right to own parts of the planet.”
A hand went up. “But hey, Todd, what about the U.S.? Don’t we want our share?”
“Sure, but we don’t include it on our maps, and we’re willing to let the work that goes on at the stations be internationally monitored. The more enlightened leaders in most countries remember that the planet is home to all of us, and if we don’t take care of it, we’ll be in trouble. Big trouble.”
Angelique said, “My mother used to say that if we abuse the planet overmuch she will turn on us.”
Todd agreed. “Your mother’s right. The planet has been sending us multiple messages, and the powers that be have ignored them. So it’s up to us, and my guess is that when you finish this
trip you’ll feel as protective of this amazing land as I do.”
Then he explained how the great ice fields of the enormous continent reflect sunlight up into space, and that this is what keeps the planet from overheating. “If the ice fields should melt, the whole planet might turn into a tropical jungle, so hot that most life would turn to death. Or, conversely, it could start another ice age.”
Someone asked, “Is that likely?”
“I wish it weren’t. I’m not crying doom”—he shook his head—“but I want you to love Antarctica, this remote continent, strange as one of the outer planets, as inhospitable as Mars. Only a little over two percent of the land is ice-free, and that for only the few weeks of summer. Of all the continents, it’s the coldest, the highest, and the driest—which may seem contradictory, since it contains so much of the earth’s water. But it’s true, the interior is as dry as the Sahara. No snow has fallen there for a million years.”
To my surprise, because I found all of this totally interesting and was trying to get it down in my notes, my eyelids began to droop and I jerked my head up as I started to fall asleep.
Six
The light was so brilliant, sun sparkling off water, off ice, that my eyes were dazzled and I began to see black spots, and when I tried to blink them away, I saw what looked like snow on a bad TV set. It was a while before I realized that something black on the horizon was really there.
It was moving, it was coming closer to me and my iceberg.
Was it a whale?
What if it bumped into the iceberg?
Whales don’t bump into icebergs. They use echolocation, the way dolphins do.
It wasn’t a whale. It was a Zodiac. I thought I could see red, the red of our parkas.
I began jumping up and down and yelling.
I took off my parka and waved it like a flag and shouted at the top of my lungs, “I’m here! Here! Help! Come get me! Please come get me!”
I thought the Zodiac was coming nearer. I kept on shouting, “Help! Help! Come get me!”
Troubling a Star Page 12
