bobbing up and down, rubbing against one another
in round shapes or triangles or uneven squares.
They often freeze together, forming a new surface
as rough as newly plowed earth.
19
Frustrated, Alika returned home from the seal holes empty-handed after another all-day watch. The ones that Jamka had chosen had not delivered a single shiny head. He estimated they had enough food for seven days.
Sulu had begun to wheeze and cough, the certain delayed result of falling into the water. Alika felt his forehead. It was hot and feverish, and Sulu's eyes were watery. He had awakened that morning saying he didn't feel well. "I'm sick, Alika. I hurt all over."
"I'll fix you some tea," Alika said. He had no other remedy.
Papa had put some leaves from the wild-growing Labrador plant on the sledge. The leaves had been plucked from the summer tundra. The hot tea had been used for hundreds of winters as a curing drink. Shamans did the best they could with herbs.
"It's no time for you to get sick, Sulu."
"I know."
Alika was as healthy as a young musk ox. The cold weather kept most Inuit healthy. He could remember being sick only that one time when they'd been hunting, but he could remember many days when his little brother had to stay inside on the platform.
Alika boiled water for the tea and fixed supper. "You have to eat something," he said.
Sulu wasn't interested in eating. Restless, he coughed all night.
In the morning, Alika was frightened when he discovered his brother had an even higher fever. His forehead was burning. Beyond giving him more tea, Alika had no idea how to treat him. He did remember that the one time Sulu had had a high fever, Mama had kept putting ice-cold towels on his forehead and throat. The cold had seemed to bring the fever down.
He went outside to chop ice, then used a bearskin square to apply it. Sulu still coughed and was breathing heavily.
Alika said, with useless anger, "Don't do this to me, Sulu. Please don't. You have to get well."
"I will," Sulu promised, with closed eyes.
Just the idea of the Little One dying on this inhuman floe was unthinkable. But Alika knew fever. It could kill. It did kill.
Alika stayed by the sleeping platform all day, talking to Sulu about everything he could think of—home and their parents, Inu and the people of the village. Sulu remained silent, falling asleep, awakening, reaching for Alika's hand whenever it applied the cold compress.
At one point, Sulu awoke and said, "I wish Mama was here."
"So do I," Alika replied. "She'd know exactly what to do."
"Yes, she would."
Another time, Sulu said, "There was a medicine man on the Reliance; Mama told me."
"Yes, but he had another name. He wasn't a shaman."
"Mama said that when all those white people went south, the ship's medicine man gave Inu a lot of cure things, but Inu threw them into the water. Why did he do that?"
"Inu was afraid they might make us sick."
"Is Inu always right?" Sulu asked.
Alika hesitated. "I think so."
"Talk to him about me," Sulu said, and began coughing.
"I'll try to," Alika promised.
He looked up into the dome ceiling and said, "Inu, hello. This is me, Alika. Sulu is very sick and we need your help. He fell into the water four days ago, and now he has a bad fever. Tell me what to do. We're out here on a floe and can't get off. Talk to the spirits and tell us what to do..."
In late afternoon, Sulu, eyes reddened by the fever, was staring up at the dome of the snowhouse. He asked weakly, "Do you see the beautiful birds, Alika?"
Alika looked up through tears. "Yes." No birds were there, of course.
"The larks?"
"Yes."
"The snowy owls?"
"Um-huh."
"The loons and phalaropes?"
"Yes."
"The snow geese?"
"Yes."
"Do you hear them singing?"
"Yes."
"The raven? It goes, Krrruack."
"Yes."
"The falcon? It goes, Kek-kek."
"Yes, I know."
"The golden plovers? They have hoarse whistles. Kweeee ..."
"Yes."
Then the weak voice stopped. Just stopped. Sulu seemed to be giving up. He closed his eyes and Alika yelled angrily, "You can't die! You can't do this to me, leave me here alone!" He was suddenly enraged.
He slapped his brother hard on each cheek.
Sulu cried out painfully.
Alika yelled again. "Do not do this!"
Sulu's eyes were wide open, and he sobbed.
Anger and emotion quickly drained out of Alika, and he sat on the platform beside Sulu, trying to think of what else to say. Finally, he said, "Please don't do that to me again. I'd want to die, too." Taking Sulu's hand, he said, "Get well, Little One. We're going home together. Soon!"
Slabs of glacier ice, calving off from shore, hit
the water with such impact that boats and even small
ships could be overturned by the huge waves.
20
Two days later, another gale roared in from the east, attacking the floe, causing nearby bergs to collide. The floe ice groaned, cracking and splitting around the edges, small and large pieces floating away to join the heaving surface of the strait. There was no snow or sleet, just savage wind. Listening to it, Alika guessed that the breakup was nearing. Then the wind abated, leaving a stiff, cold breeze, still from the east.
Alika knew the snowhouses would soon crumble, and the remains of the sledge that Papa had built would likely float into the North Atlantic. There'd be nothing left of the Polar Star.
A flock of noisy ducks appeared in the April sky, returning early from the south to spend the spring and summer above the Arctic Circle.
Sulu, his fever having subsided, said excitedly, "Look!"
Alika nodded. "Summer is on its way."
But the problem now was the breakup, and the danger of going into the freezing water and death. Even Jamka would not be able to swim ashore. Alika had cut a paddle from sledge wood.
He hoped that before he had to use the paddle, they'd be sighted by hunters. Yet there was no way to attract their attention beyond shouting, if they got close enough. He had no flag to wave, and the sound of the Maynard would die in the breeze. Another hope was that the east wind would continue to blow all day, taking the floe west, close to shore.
They hadn't eaten in almost two days. Alika simply hadn't been able to kill a seal. He was beginning to feel weak, so he got a length of seal rope from the small iglu to suck on, sharing it with Sulu and Jamka.
About noon, the sea began to wash across the floe, lapping aboard rather gently at first, then draining off as the floe undulated, the first sign of breakup. The inch-deep water wet their boots. Sulu was terrified, and Alika was almost as scared.
A lone raven winged overhead, flying toward land. Sulu didn't wave at it.
Swells began to rise about midnight, water splashing aboard, then draining off. Finally, Alika had to stand up, holding Sulu, too frightened to speak, on his shoulders. Jamka scrabbled for footing on the sledge. Three hours passed as they fought the sea. When the sun rose, the floe shattered into hundreds of chunks, some quite large and others the size of a caribou rump, some just slivers. The explosive sounds echoed throughout the Arctic dawn.
Carrying Sulu under one arm, the Punna carving stuffed into Sulu's parka, and holding the paddle in his free hand, Alika jumped aboard a raft of ice, followed by Jamka. Their new vessel was about five harpoons wide and ten long, perhaps a half harpoon deep. They were surrounded by a glassy sea of bobbing flat ice that stretched in each direction. Soon the sun was out strong, the whole peaceful world glittering.
On his knees, Alika paddled the ice raft toward shore. Sulu jabbered away, asking all sorts of questions that couldn't be answered. "Will we walk home?" They could see t
he coast.
There was still no wind, and the sky was clear, a perfect day. Jamka sat toward the bow, looking ahead, like a sailor on watch. Here and there, seals swam past. A whale surfaced on the port side, and the mist stayed in the air long after the bowhead descended to the depths. The water, between its patches of floating white, was blue-green.
A little later, in the distance, three kayaks, probably seal hunters, moved through the bobbing ice. Jamka spotted them first and howled.
Alika shook his head with massive relief, unable to believe that he was seeing humans again. It had been such a long time. His heart pounded. Were they real? Or was it some trick of the imagination? Hunters sometimes saw things that weren't there.
He took a chance and yelled, "Hoy, hoy, hoy!" And he kept yelling until they finally saw him.
Alika took some deep breaths. "We made it, Little One! We made it!"
Sulu grinned widely.
Exhausted, Alika sat back, awaiting the arrival of the kayaks. He desperately wanted to step onto land and then go to sleep for a long time.
Alika watched as the kayaks moved steadily toward him, wondering how far away the rescuers lived and how, once ashore, he could find a way to return to Nunatak. That had been on his mind many nights as they drifted.
There had been so many times, especially at night, when he'd thought they'd never survive. He'd never told Sulu about those thoughts and was glad he hadn't. The Little One always deserved hope, and here it was at last.
When the first kayak bumped alongside, Alika asked, "Where am I?"
"Baffin Island," the hunter answered, staring at Alika, Sulu, and Jamka on their piece of ice as if he were seeing strange tonrar, sea ghosts. Apparitions!
Then he said, "What happened to you?"
Alika said, "It's a long story. I'm from Nunatak."
The hunter frowned. "I hear that's up on Ellesmere."
"Yes."
Alika said, "This is my brother, Sulu."
"What happened?"
"I was sealing six months ago and a berg hit our floe."
"Six months," the hunter gasped. "It's now April and you're still alive?"
The other two hunters were now alongside, listening.
"Please take us ashore," Alika said.
"Of course. My name is Katann. We're from the village of Amadjuak."
"My name is Alika."
Within minutes, Alika slid into Katann's kayak and up into the bow. Sulu was inserted into the second boat, and Jamka crawled up into the third.
Alika fell asleep almost instantly.
There was no way to estimate the number of
hunters who had disappeared in the ice over the past
thousand years. It could have easily happened
to Alika, Sulu, and Jamka.
21
After Sulu shook his shoulder, Alika awakened in Katann's stone-and-sod house, not knowing for a few minutes where he was. Then he remembered what had happened the day before, or was it the day before that? He knew he wasn't home. Jamka wasn't there.
There was a young woman looking over at them. She said, "My name is Uming. You and Sulu have slept a long while. You were asleep when Katann carried you in." Sulu had slept next door.
"My name is Alika. We're from the village of Nunatak, on Ellesmere Island."
"Katann told me," she said.
Alika was dazed, not fully awake.
Uming frowned at him. "Katann said he found you on a piece of ice. That's hard to believe."
"It's true. We were on the ice almost six months. Where is Jamka, please?"
"Outside. I fed him."
"Thank you."
"You and your brother must eat," Uming said.
Sulu said, "I'm very hungry."
"We will help. But first you must eat," said Uming.
It was difficult for Alika to believe that he was safe on land, that the ordeal was finally over, that they had survived. Then he was aware that a small girl was looking at him. He said hello, and she ducked behind her mother's pants.
"This is Meeka," Uming said. "She is two."
Though he couldn't see her face, Alika introduced himself to the child, feeling out of place in this dwelling, not knowing what else to say. He was never good with strangers.
Uming said, "I'll feed you both in a moment." Seal meat was boiling on the qulliq.
"We were hunting and a berg knocked the floe away from shore," Alika offered.
"Katann told me," Uming said. "But don't tell me what happened next. Wait until later. Everyone else wants to know as well. We seldom have visitors."
Then Amadjuak wasn't any different from Nunatak, Alika thought. Strangers from the outside were rare, and everyone wanted to hear what they said, every detail.
Uming said, "Katann will be back from hunting soon."
Alika said, "He saved our lives." He went outside, followed by Sulu.
Jamka rose, wagging his tail.
Sulu asked Jamka, "How do you like being onshore?" He knelt down and hugged the dog.
Inside again, Alika didn't realize how hungry he was until he sat down to the steaming meat. Uming also served them caribou stew cooked with blackberry bush, a dish their mama often made.
While they ate, Uming kept asking about Ellesmere Island, about their family.
"Papa's a hunter," Sulu said.
Uming said, "Most men are hunters."
That was true.
"And how old are you, Alika?" Uming asked.
"Fifteen," he replied. He'd had a birthday on the floe.
"You seem much older," she said.
He felt older, much older.
Sulu said, "I'm ten."
At last Katann came through the wooden-framed sealskin door, saying, "Ah, you're both awake."
Alika smiled at him. "Yes."
"How do you feel?" Katann looked younger than Alika's father.
"I'm a little sore and still a little tired. So is Sulu."
"You're a lucky boy," Katann said. "If a gale had hit you, that cake of ice you were on could have turned upside down. The three of you could have died."
"I know," Alika said.
Sulu said, "I got very sick and could have died. I fell into the water. Alika and Jamka got me out."
Katann said, "Let's hope you never have to ride a floe again."
Sulu said, "I never will."
Alika and Sulu soon looked around Amadjuak, a collection of one-room sod-stone-and-sealskin houses, smaller than Nunatak. The barren rocky coastal ground was much the same as in Nunatak, with patches of snow here and there this time of year.
In the late afternoon of the boys' second day in the village, the villagers gathered outside Katann's dwelling to hear Alika tell about the epic voyage of the Polar Star. Despite having to stand in the spring cold, they listened raptly to every word.
At supper Alika asked Katann how far he thought they might be from Nunatak.
Katann answered, "How far up Greenland do you think it is?"
"Very far. In the winter, we can walk from Nunatak across the ice to Greenland. I've been told it's fifteen kahloona miles over there."
Katann said, "It's only a guess, but I'd say Nunatak is eight hundred white-man miles. You can never make it, summer by kayak or winter by sledge. There are too many bays, inlets, and rivers to cross."
"We'll never see home again," Alika said in despair.
Sulu cried out, "What did you say?"
"But maybe you will see home again," Katann said. "There's an American ship, the Resolute, that will be stopping here. It came here last summer on a survey. It is the sister ship to the Reliance that was wrecked far up north."
"The Reliance was near us!" Alika said. "Trying to reach the North Pole."
"You might talk the captain into taking you along," Katann said.
"I'll try. Oh, I'll try," Alika said.
"Meanwhile, you can help me hunt and fish. You can use Uming's kayak," Katann said.
The next three months went slowly, bu
t Alika stayed busy helping Katann hunt and fish. Sulu went out with Uming almost every day, with Meeka in a pouch on Uming's back, to fish for char, and both Alika and Sulu went out on the summer tundra to help gather food for the winter. It was almost the same as being in Nunatak.
At last, in early July, the expedition ship Resolute, looking almost exactly like the Reliance, anchored off the village. Alika used Uming's kayak to paddle out, and he tied up at the gangway, hoping to talk to the Inuit dog handlers. He remembered that the Reliance had sixty huskies aboard, and he could hear the Resolute's dogs howling in their pens.
A white man looked down on him from the main deck, saw them, and disappeared for a few minutes. Then an Inuit dog handler appeared at the top of the gangway and asked Alika what he wanted.
"I need to go to Nunatak with my brother and our dog!" Alika shouted up.
"This is not a passenger ship!" the Inuit shouted back.
"But Nunatak is on your way to the North Pole!" Alika yelled, over the howling dogs.
"You have to ask the captain!" the Inuit shouted down.
"We must go with you!" Alika shouted up. "Nunatak is my home."
"I've never heard of it! Come on up here."
Alika climbed the gangway and said, "Please help us."
The dog handler asked, "Why?"
Alika told him part of what had happened, and the handler relented. "All right, I'll take you to the chief mate. He doesn't understand Inuit. I speak a little English."
"I can help you with your dogs," Alika said.
The middle-aged handler drew in a breath, shook his head saying, "Come with me."
Alika followed him to the chief mate's cabin and listened as the mate and the Inuit talked, the white man glancing at Alika. Finally, the dog handler shrugged.
"My name is Kangio," said the Inuit. "You and your brother can sleep with the dogs. Once we get under way, they'll shut up except before they eat. You also have to work."
Alika followed him back to the gangway.
Alika paddled back to shore as quickly as possible. He couldn't wait to get back to Katann's house to tell Sulu.
"That ship will take us home!" Alika called to his brother.
Ice Drift (9780547540610) Page 9
