"They've adapted to this place in ways we can only envy."
Drexler harrumphed. "Yes, they can swim, but they simply exist. They are passive, meek, dim."
"You wouldn't say that if you encountered a leopard seal."
"Oh?"
"They're spotted, ten feet long, weigh as much as four men, and have huge jaws full of sharp teeth. They can move faster than any of us and snatch us in a minute. They prey on penguins and seals."
Drexler laughed. "Well, I'm not a penguin, and I'm not going to lose any sleep over a seal. I do admire the way you love these animals, Greta. But I'm more concerned about the future of our species."
She looked miffed. "Someday you'll meet a leopard seal, Jürgen, and then you'll see."
"Someday." He shrugged.
* * *
The ship broke into clear water again, dark and cold. Now the passing bergs were tall and sharp like small jagged mountains. They passed a cluster of penguins standing on one, some sliding comically down the ice like children on a slide.
Christmas dinner was festive, lit by the warm glow of candlelight. Heiden was in a good mood about their progress. Feder became first amusingly and then annoyingly drunk. Schmidt sat in a corner, chain-smoking his cigarettes and content to just watch the others. It appeared there were no presents but Hart passed out intricately knotted key or watch chains he'd tied from thick cord. Greta's was inked red and green. When he presented it her cheeks were flush from the libations and her eyes shining with the excitement of being in such an exotic spot for the holiday. She lit up as if he'd given her a necklace and, leaning forward, quickly pecked him on the cheek. "I'm embarrassed I have nothing for you!" she whispered in his ear. Then she slipped away.
Drexler watched, fingering his own key chain. "Very thoughtful, Hart. It's good you're finding time for clever crafts. I don't have anything for you either but I do"—and here he raised his voice— "have something as well for our female pioneer."
She turned, smiling in surprise.
"Alone of her gender but not alone in our hearts," said Drexler with a bow. "To Greta for her tolerance of this rude company"—they laughed— "I present this gift." He pulled a wrapped package from behind a chair and handed it to the biologist. She blushed.
"Jürgen, you know you shouldn't single me out this way." She carefully unfastened the bright wrapping and peeked when it was half off. "It's a book!" More paper came off. The Germans clustered around. "A book about whales!"
"Not poetry, perhaps, but better than the one about paramecia," Drexler joked.
"But from you, Jürgen?"
"He picked it out in Hamburg," Heiden said. "Too timid to buy a romance, so he headed for the biology section." The Germans laughed.
"I figured I couldn't go wrong, getting you something connected with your specialty," Jürgen said sheepishly. "When I saw the title, Lords of the Ocean, it seemed like the right choice."
Greta nodded, her eyes moist. "You devil. You are more intrigued by them than you dare admit!" She grasped the back of his neck and kissed him, quickly, on the lips. The assembly roared with appreciation. "Thank you." She looked at him shyly, grasping the book to her breast. Jürgen smiled.
Hart watched from the shadows.
* * *
The next morning there was a watery dawn of gray light. As the sun climbed higher the wind dropped and the overcast began to break. The Schwabenland was in a lead of cold black water between two masses of pack ice, picking its way slowly southward. More silver-colored seals lounged on the ice floes, indeed looking from a distance like giant slugs. Maybe Drexler had a point.
Then the clouds on the horizon slowly spun away to reveal a harder shape. A chain of white mountains rose from the sea, the snow on them so thick and immaculate it looked like a wall of sugar.
"Antarctica," Hart announced to the Germans.
CHAPTER NINE
Antarctica was like a dream that stung. Part of it seemed soft and hallucinatory: the gauzy
Drexler harrumphed. "Yes, they can swim, but they simply exist. They are passive, meek, dim."
"You wouldn't say that if you encountered a leopard seal."
"Oh?"
"They're spotted, ten feet long, weigh as much as four men, and have huge jaws full of sharp teeth. They can move faster than any of us and snatch us in a minute. They prey on penguins and seals."
Drexler laughed. "Well, I'm not a penguin, and I'm not going to lose any sleep over a seal. I do admire the way you love these animals, Greta. But I'm more concerned about the future of our species."
She looked miffed. "Someday you'll meet a leopard seal, Jürgen, and then you'll see."
"Someday." He shrugged.
* * *
The ship broke into clear water again, dark and cold. Now the passing bergs were tall and sharp like small jagged mountains. They passed a cluster of penguins standing on one, some sliding comically down the ice like children on a slide.
Christmas dinner was festive, lit by the warm glow of candlelight. Heiden was in a good mood about their progress. Feder became first amusingly and then annoyingly drunk. Schmidt sat in a corner, chain-smoking his cigarettes and content to just watch the others. It appeared there were no presents but Hart passed out intricately knotted key or watch chains he'd tied from thick cord. Greta's was inked red and green. When he presented it her cheeks were flush from the libations and her eyes shining with the excitement of being in such an exotic spot for the holiday. She lit up as if he'd given her a necklace and, leaning forward, quickly pecked him on the cheek. "I'm embarrassed I have nothing for you!" she whispered in his ear. Then she slipped away.
Drexler watched, fingering his own key chain. "Very thoughtful, Hart. It's good you're finding time for clever crafts. I don't have anything for you either but I do"—and here he raised his voice— "have something as well for our female pioneer."
She turned, smiling in surprise.
"Alone of her gender but not alone in our hearts," said Drexler with a bow. "To Greta for her tolerance of this rude company"—they laughed— "I present this gift." He pulled a wrapped package from behind a chair and handed it to the biologist. She blushed.
"Jürgen, you know you shouldn't single me out this way." She carefully unfastened the bright wrapping and peeked when it was half off. "It's a book!" More paper came off. The Germans clustered around. "A book about whales!"
"Not poetry, perhaps, but better than the one about paramecia," Drexler joked.
"But from you, Jürgen?"
"He picked it out in Hamburg," Heiden said. "Too timid to buy a romance, so he headed for the biology section." The Germans laughed.
"I figured I couldn't go wrong, getting you something connected with your specialty," Jürgen said sheepishly. "When I saw the title, Lords of the Ocean, it seemed like the right choice."
Greta nodded, her eyes moist. "You devil. You are more intrigued by them than you dare admit!" She grasped the back of his neck and kissed him, quickly, on the lips. The assembly roared with appreciation. "Thank you." She looked at him shyly, grasping the book to her breast. Jürgen smiled.
Hart watched from the shadows.
* * *
The next morning there was a watery dawn of gray light. As the sun climbed higher the wind dropped and the overcast began to break. The Schwabenland was in a lead of cold black water between two masses of pack ice, picking its way slowly southward. More silver-colored seals lounged on the ice floes, indeed looking from a distance like giant slugs. Maybe Drexler had a point.
Then the clouds on the horizon slowly spun away to reveal a harder shape. A chain of white mountains rose from the sea, the snow on them so thick and immaculate it looked like a wall of sugar.
"Antarctica," Hart announced to the Germans.
CHAPTER NINE
Antarctica was like a dream that stung. Part of it seemed soft and hallucinatory: the gauzy
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