by Douglas Falk
I wish we’d go in somewhere warm instead of freezing our socks off here at the docks. Why couldn’t we meet somewhere indoors?
He glanced once more at the majestic ferry and noticed how it cast a large shadow all over the port.
Her colour palette is all in white. Most fitting. This beast should be more than adequate for our needs, at least on the outside…looks can be deceiving and all that.
“Mr. Milton? Mr. Wilander?”
They turned around in tandem and laid eyes on the source of the deep voice coming from behind, walking slowly towards them.
Well, he certainly looks the part. Have I ever had the pleasure to behold such a hardened man before?
The man was completely bald and sported a long, raven-black beard. His forehead was plagued with an ugly scar that striped all over his head.
Well, should we fail crossing Antarctica, we’ve experienced at least one traversal right here. The scar stretches across his head! I wonder what type of wound that could be. A knife wound? Did he wrestle a grizzly bear? It looks grotesque!
The stranger reached out to William’s hand to shake it and announced himself. “Jacques Seydoux. I am from Quebec. Canada.”
William shook his hand and nearly gasped for air. “W-William. Milton. At your service,” he squeaked.
Oh my God. Does he shake hands like a grizzly bear too?
He walked towards John with slow, lumbering footsteps. There was an aura of primal presence oozing from the rugged Canadian that would scare even the sturdiest of men. After a mere blink of an eye, he stood before him and wanted to shake John’s hand. He shook the Canadian’s hand and realised right upon touching him that he was a force to be reckoned with. He radiated sheer unrelenting strength from the handshake alone.
This guy is aces. We could not hope for a better guide.
“So,” said William. “You will guide this expedition of ours, yes?
“That is true, mais oui. Mr. Milton the elder tasked me himself.”
Winning Oscar Milton over turned out to be an easier job than either of them had ever hoped for. They both told a pretty tale and did not speak a word about a flat Earth, hidden landmasses, nor any tales of Admiral Byrd. Oscar truly did seem to be proud of his son, to William’s surprise. He agreed right there on the spot to supply material and good, able men. Oscar disclosed that he had reliable friends within the Australian Union, and promised that he would be able to find potent professionals who would be up for the job in exchange for a pretty penny upon their safe return home.
Where Oscar found the ship, he never did say. Probably for the better that we don’t know.
“Jamie Vickers, Nathan Barnaby, and I will accompany you all the way to the South Pole. The rest of the ship’s crew will return to Australia once we have arrived at our destination. It will be just the five of us journeying across the white desolation down there. In other words—it is of paramount importance that we work together as a team, and we should get to know one another more closely. Once Mother Nature unleashes everything in her arsenal down there on us…well, we better be ready for that. You will know the true meaning of being cold, my friends. Oh, mes amis! You will. When the slightest breeze will pierce you like a knife through bone and marrow. That is when you will be tested for real.”
Oh, right. The cold. I had almost forgotten about it…or repressed it, more likely. It’s easy to stand here in wonderous Perth a late summer’s day and complain about today being cloudy and chilly for a change, when facing life-threatening cold feels distant and a problem for another day. This journey will be the greatest test of my life.
“Could you give us a rundown on the others? Vickers and Barnaby. Like, CliffNotes. Who are they?” asked William.
Seydoux stroked his mighty beard and scowled. “Vickers. I don’t know too much about her, tell you the truth—I met her the first time only yesterday along with Barnaby, at the Poseidon’s Trident. A scruffy old joint of little importance situated here nearby, but it did the trick well enough. A quiet, disreputable place is adequate if you want to have a chat with someone and drink a few pints while you’re at it. Ah, Mademoiselle Vickers! Well, the broad had brains, that’s for sure. And she was easy on the eyes too, if I may say so myself…but that is a whole other conversation. Alors, one night out is obviously not enough time to truly get to know a stranger, but she ticked the right boxes for me, that I can say. I think she will be an asset to this expedition team. I don’t know if she has any particular unique set of skills that made Monsieur Milton select her, but I suppose we shall find out in time, mais oui?”
“What about this Barnaby fellow?” asked William.
Seydoux smiled.
“That man is a rock, and just the type we need all around. He is an old friend and comrade of mine, and I can vouch for him. A well-versed mountaineer who climbed K2 with me back in 2010. I think he’s also been to the Arctic once, but don’t quote me on that. I’d have to ask him again for a more detailed story. Either way, he is in excellent physical form and if anyone can contribute to a journey like this, it’s him. Oscar hired me, but I brought Nathan into the fold. The girl was all Oscar’s choice; I know nothing more of her other than what I just told you.”
“The Arctic.” William was impressed. “That’s a good sign. What about Antarctica, has he been there before? Have you been there?”
“Oh, ehrm, no. I have not, at least. And to my knowledge, neither has Barnaby or Vickers. I think they would have mentioned it straight away if so. Very few people ever venture to Antarctica, as you may know.”
“Oh, I know that for sure. That’s sort of the appeal of this whole trek, you see,” said William, and he and gave John a look.
So, nobody in this group ever set foot there before. If that is the case, then perhaps…just maybe…leading them astray if we want to do so, might actually work.
“Monsieur Milton informed me that we are due to depart on the twelfth, this coming Friday. Which I am sure you both are aware of.”
They both nodded.
“So, my little friends, you have but two days left in paradise before you enter the gates of hell. While Dante described his seventh circle of hell as a fiery pit, I suspect you both will wish you were there instead of where we are going. The frosty no man’s land will have its due, unless we tread with the utmost caution. So, copains—have a pint at the pub, a good meal, or a whiff of some sweet herb while you are at it. Because come Friday, you want some good memory to cling on to. And I hope the two of you are docile enough to take in simple instructions down there and follow my command. The day after tomorrow we will cast off, and you will get to meet Ms. Vickers and Mr. Barnaby. Spend your last hours in freedom carefully…they may be your last.”
Jacques Seydoux smiled as he foretold his dire prophecy of times to come, and his scar glistered in the dim Perth afternoon.
13
Savannah ploughed through the Indian Ocean with a lethargic, albeit confident, rhythm. John stood at the railing next to Seydoux and looked across the ocean. Night had fallen, and the stars slowly began to visualise above them. The full Moon shone bright. He held on to the railing by the bow with a firm grip and stared wistfully at the Moon. He closed his eyes.
I wonder what the Moon really is. We know that it couldn’t possibly be terra firma, and that it most likely is not a spheroid as stars can be seen through it on certain days. And that it probably is its own light source. But what is its purpose, if this place we live in is designed by the hand of an intelligent creator? Is it an anti-Sun of sorts, the yin to the Sun’s yang? The Harvest Moon has always been considered a harbinger of dire things to come and a reminder of one’s mortality. Death is coming for you and all that. But what causes the phases of it? Is the Moon recharging itself somehow when it goes through the phases? I wonder if we will ever know…I doubt we are meant to know. The phases of the Moon do not work in the heliocentric model. That I do know. How the hell are we able to see a crescent moon during daytime? Even when the Moon is
gibbous, it’s…
“Copain!” A deep, guttural voice from behind yanked him unceremoniously out of his fantasizing. “We are soon there, mon ami. Is there anything else you would like to tell me before we arrive? Now would be the time, little friend.”
Seydoux gave him a sly look that turned John’s blood cold.
“No. Nothing I can think of.”
“Hrrm…I just think that it’s rather…etrangé. Two spring chickens who wake up one day with a death wish and a desire to reach the South Pole. Tell me, my friend. What is it you really want?”
Seydoux’s gaze was ever-piercing, and John scrambled to come up with an excuse at the top of his head.
“That really is all there is to it, honest. We had an epiphany, and it lingered. We seek a thrill beyond what can be found in our gated communities at home. We seek something emballant, so to speak. Something that’s missing in our lives back home.”
“Emballant! So, you speak French?”
“A tad bit of French, but it is rusty. I will concede that much. Although, my French is probably better than your Swedish, if I were to venture a guess…”
Seydoux cackled loudly. “I won’t argue with that claim, little one! If the point of life is to learn as many tongues as possible, I think you may have me beaten. I don’t know much of Sweden other than Ingrid Bergman and Zlatan.”
“Zlatan? I didn’t think North Americans followed that the beautiful game.”
“I have relatives in Paris. They kept me updated when he played there.”
“Ah.”
John leaned over the railing and watched the hull of Savannah gracefully cleave her way through the ocean, like a knife through butter. The ocean bathed in the reflection of the moonlight, and John stood in awe at the beauty of cruising through the open sea on a spring night somewhere in the Indian Ocean. For now, all was well.
“Time for me to head inside. I think I’ll get some shut eye,” said Seydoux suddenly. “Hold on tight, kid. We are a far away from home, the both of us. Far away, and about to embark on our clandestine journey. Don’t fall in the water, please. I don’t want to wake up to the tunes of people screaming that we have a man overboard.”
Seydoux turned away slowly after delivering his ominous warning and headed inside deck, and John was left all alone on the bow. Just as Seydoux had left, he began to feel breezes of the chilly kind blowing in from the west. While he did bring his usual trench coat with him on the ship, he wore his Patagonia winter jacket this night.
And probably for many nights to come. It’s not exactly probable that I will be casually dressed for the foreseeable future, unless the weather forecast for Antarctica says otherwise. Holy smokes. Antarctica. I’ve never been this far from home, ever. Have I ever been in the southern hemisphere before this? I can’t recall. Oh, right. Hemisphere…hemisplane.
The chill began to take hold for real now, and he wished that he wore a hat of some sort, preferably in fur. He looked straight up again and mused over the stars, those mysterious lights in the night sky.
I wonder how many people throughout these thousands of years have stargazed in bewilderment, trying to understand our place in this world. People from all civilisations over every corner of the Earth must have felt as humbled as I feel right now, when they looked up and tried to make sense of the heavenly bodies attached to the ceiling above. That place we were taught was outer space. They must have seen it even clearer back in the days of the earliest civilisations, when there was no light pollution. As clear as I see the starfield right here, on the waters in the middle of nowhere, they must have seen it like this everywhere on Earth. The ancients…they were right about so much, and they would have detested the world of today. They knew how to take care of the Earth and they let their five senses guide them through life, instead of being a programmed cog on the wheel of consumerism and being a glorified slave working for a corrupt nation. They were not the ignorant ones…we are.
John let his eyes wander over the firmament, and his gaze stayed fixed on a particularly bright star. It was the southern Pole Star, Sigma Octantis, he knew. It shone like a crystalline diamond in the night, and it was impossible to mistake it for anything else. John unpocketed his Samsung and searched the web for Sigma Octantis, distance from Earth.
It is 280.5 light years, 280.5 light…years. Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England. That star is close. I know it, every fibre in my body tells me it is right there, just a couple of thousands of miles up at most. The ancients knew this. Although their methods of measuring the celestial bodies would be considered outdated by modern astronomy, it is eerie that a simple device like the astrolabe is more accurate than all the theoretical mathematics the scientists of today scramble with. They are so wrapped up in theory and speculation that they can literally not see the forest from the trees. The tangled web of these mathemagics are a key point as to why this deception took so long for us to uncover. The astrolabe is thousands of years old, but I would gladly take it if the choice was between being guided by that archaic device or Neil deGrasse Tyson in person.
John browsed through the applications on his Samsung Galaxy and wrote William a message on WhatsApp. “I’m standing by the bow. Come out to me when you can.”
William was seated in the comfortable lounge at deck five bent over the table in in frustration. He stared at his hand of cards with a dour look on his face. Nine of diamonds and six of spades. The flop on the table showed king of hearts, queen of hearts, and eight of clubs.
Could it get any worse?
The turn came and went, and as expected his prospects of winning this game became more distant by the minute. The turn card was three of clubs.
Well, if this isn’t a terrible hand, then I don’t know what is. Should I bluff them hard? Ah, screw it. I’m a gambler in heart and soul.
“Mr. Milton?” asked Jamie Vickers politely with a hint of urgency. “Will you check or raise?”
William puffed up his chest and tried his best at looking like a confident high roller sitting on a killer hand.
“I will raise you with two hundred Australian dollars.”
Nathan Barnaby was taken aback. “Two hundred dollars! What is this, the Monte Carlo high-stakes table? That’s more than my total sum of chips!” he cried and threw his cards on the table. “That’s a fold from me, tough guy.”
Vickers on the other hand showed no signs of throwing in the towel on a whim like that. She looked at her cards and grabbed a handful of chips and balanced them in front of her, and she pushed them forward towards the pot in the middle.
“I’ll call your two hundred and raise you one hundred more.”
William was most surprised.
What the hell? She claims to be an artist from South Dakota working a part-time job, earning minimum wage. She claims. And she is going to call me out at the poker table? I’ll see about that, girl.
“I’ll call your three hundred, Ms. Vickers,” he said calmly, and he pushed his chips forward and observed her general mannerisms straight after he shoved them in the pot. She looked very plain in this dim light setting, clad in a beige coverall and her hair tied up in a ribbon. Her facial gestures revealed nothing, and this irked William beyond words.
Every poker player, even the cream of the crop, has a weak spot. And they eventually reveal it, whether it be a subtle tic or something more obvious.
Nathan Barnaby looked from one player to the other and mumbled, “You are out of your minds, the both of you,” and did his duty as dealer by unveiling the river card. Ace of diamonds.
“All in,” said William and pushed all the poker chips he had left, to a total value of six hundred Australian dollars.
Once you’ve kicked a bluff in motion, you need to follow it all the way and amp it up if threatened. She will fold now; I can tell.
William perched in his chair with a smug look on his face. “Your call, my dear,” he said.
She did not hesitate for a second. “All in,” she said loudly and threw her r
emaining chips in the pot.
What a bitch! She saw right through me! I’m a doomed man.
“Well, well, well! It is time to show what you’ve got. You first, Mr. Milton,” announced Barnaby.
William sighed loudly and revealed his two cards. “I have no clue why I thought I could win this one. Beggar’s belief, I guess.”
He placed the six of spades and the nine of diamonds on the table.
Nathan laughed. “Well, I doubt your family made their fortune from poker winnings because you’re an abysmal player if this is your usual operating procedure. Jamie?”
Jamie Vickers revealed her two cards, which turned out to be ace of spades and ace of clubs.
“Three of a kind. And in aces, no less. You win the lot, poppet!” Barnaby said with a smile on his face. He knew how wealthy the Miltons were, and it seemed to make his day that a regular working-class girl skinned William dry.
“Thanks!” said Jamie excitedly and reached for the pot of money while William sighed loudly enough for everyone to hear.
“My attempts of masquerading as a successful fraudster were woeful. For some reason, people see right through me. I’m about as see-through as a Swiss cheese.”
“To be fair, there are worse character traits out there than being a bad liar. Congratulations, Jamie. I think we’ll have a drink now. Do you folks care for brandy?”
Both Jamie and William agreed that a glass of cognac would serve them well, and Barnaby rose to his feet and fetched a bottle of Hennessy. He unloaded three brandy glasses from the cupboard and opened the bottle. As he poured the liquor, he caught a glimpse from the small oval window to the left and saw the glimmer of moonlight shining down on the pitch-black waters outside. He approached the window and tried his hardest to discern any hint of land in sight at the horizon or something else other than miles of never-ending ocean as far as the eye could see. He quickly realised that it was a futile effort and noticed that it had begun to drizzle outside, as faint drops of water splashed on the side of the window. Imagining how unpleasant it must be to step outside of the warm interior of the ship on deck, he downed his glass of brandy and felt the warmth of the liquor slide through his body like a serpent writhing through a mountain crack. He poured himself another glass and waddled towards the longue table, as the increasing ocean waves had begun to pound the ship more intensely causing the passengers to experience a bumpier ride than they would have liked.
