above the surface. No sounds echo from these. A vessel driven aground on one has no chance. If the ship is not instantly holed and sunk, its rocking rips the hull apart on this floating island.
And where the
Polaris
sailed was iceberg country, indeed. Unlike the eastern coast of Greenland, where icebergs are few and move north with the current, western Greenland wins the prize for calving icebergs. Shearing off the moving face of the glaciers, massive blocks of ice escape the fjords to sail south along the western face of Greenland with the Labrador Current. Appropriately enough, given their potential for destruction, all up and down the coast thundering booms and cracks herald their birth, resonating for miles from the fjords.
Rolling over so that the bulk of ice lies below the waterline, these watery battering rams head for the shipping lanes. More than 7,500 icebergs train down Davis Strait. Fewer than 1 in 20 sails past Newfoundland, but the vagaries of wind and surface temperature can dramatically prolong their lives. In both 1907 and 1926, icebergs traveled as far south as Bermuda.
From the deck of the
Polaris,
the crew watched pale battalions loom on the horizon. More and more ice appeared as the water developed a dark and sinister cast. Jagged icebergs mingled with spinning plates of fractured floe ice. Steaming along in the dark, the
Polaris
narrowly missed a low tabular iceberg. The lookouts were doubled and instructed to keep a sharp eye for areas of dead water. As the lowering clouds and fog hid the moon, only the absence of whitecaps exposed the giant saucers of ice skimming along at sea level.
Dawn brought a surprise. Directly ahead lay an ice floe littered with rolling, grunting, reddish-brown lumps. The foul stench of rotted fish and dung blew ahead of the floe, announcing the arrivalof a pod of walrus. Warily the animals regarded the ship as they drifted closer. Inuit hunted the animals for their meat, tusks, and skins to make their
oomiaks.
Besides the few humans who paddled their fragile boats, only killer whales and polar bear threaten these large mammals, but the vigilant males who guarded the group failed to recognize these men as a danger. Still cautious, the walrus watched the dark hulk of the
Polaris
sail closer.
These were Arctic specimens, so Dr. Bessel induced George Tyson to shoot one for scientific study. But the walrus has a thick, spongy skull like the elephant that encases a tiny brain. Now Tyson learned what the Inuit already knew. Walrus are difficult to kill unless shot through the eye. If not killed instantly, they slide off and sink. The Inuit used harpoons with braided skin lines. Even then, more than one hunter died beneath the slashing tusks of a wounded walrus or drowned when the animal shattered his
oomiak.
Both Tyson's shots missed a vital spot, and the animals vanished into the safety of the black water, leaving behind only an empty, brown-streaked floe.
Threading through the ever-increasing floes of ice, the
Polaris
beat northward, aiming for the eye of the needle. Passing through Smith Sound, the vessel entered the ice-cluttered narrows that separates Greenland from Ellesmere Island. Tapering in places to a mere sixteen miles across, the three-hundred-mile gauntlet widens north of Smith Sound into Kane Basin, a massive bite taken out of the western side of Greenland by the Humboldt Glacier. Beyond Kane Basin the passage constricts again into Kennedy Channel. Beyond that passage lies the Lincoln Sea, sweeping north of Ellesmere Island and the northernmost tip of Greenland. No land exists north of here. Here is truly the end of the earth.
Ancient mariners might leave the unknown edges of their charts white and fearfully mark “Here be dragons.” But this is land's end. And dragons do live here in the form of frightening gales, building-size bergs that bulldoze down the straits, and numbing cold. A man lost overboard is dead within fifteen minutes from hypothermia. Within
And where the
Polaris
sailed was iceberg country, indeed. Unlike the eastern coast of Greenland, where icebergs are few and move north with the current, western Greenland wins the prize for calving icebergs. Shearing off the moving face of the glaciers, massive blocks of ice escape the fjords to sail south along the western face of Greenland with the Labrador Current. Appropriately enough, given their potential for destruction, all up and down the coast thundering booms and cracks herald their birth, resonating for miles from the fjords.
Rolling over so that the bulk of ice lies below the waterline, these watery battering rams head for the shipping lanes. More than 7,500 icebergs train down Davis Strait. Fewer than 1 in 20 sails past Newfoundland, but the vagaries of wind and surface temperature can dramatically prolong their lives. In both 1907 and 1926, icebergs traveled as far south as Bermuda.
From the deck of the
Polaris,
the crew watched pale battalions loom on the horizon. More and more ice appeared as the water developed a dark and sinister cast. Jagged icebergs mingled with spinning plates of fractured floe ice. Steaming along in the dark, the
Polaris
narrowly missed a low tabular iceberg. The lookouts were doubled and instructed to keep a sharp eye for areas of dead water. As the lowering clouds and fog hid the moon, only the absence of whitecaps exposed the giant saucers of ice skimming along at sea level.
Dawn brought a surprise. Directly ahead lay an ice floe littered with rolling, grunting, reddish-brown lumps. The foul stench of rotted fish and dung blew ahead of the floe, announcing the arrivalof a pod of walrus. Warily the animals regarded the ship as they drifted closer. Inuit hunted the animals for their meat, tusks, and skins to make their
oomiaks.
Besides the few humans who paddled their fragile boats, only killer whales and polar bear threaten these large mammals, but the vigilant males who guarded the group failed to recognize these men as a danger. Still cautious, the walrus watched the dark hulk of the
Polaris
sail closer.
These were Arctic specimens, so Dr. Bessel induced George Tyson to shoot one for scientific study. But the walrus has a thick, spongy skull like the elephant that encases a tiny brain. Now Tyson learned what the Inuit already knew. Walrus are difficult to kill unless shot through the eye. If not killed instantly, they slide off and sink. The Inuit used harpoons with braided skin lines. Even then, more than one hunter died beneath the slashing tusks of a wounded walrus or drowned when the animal shattered his
oomiak.
Both Tyson's shots missed a vital spot, and the animals vanished into the safety of the black water, leaving behind only an empty, brown-streaked floe.
Threading through the ever-increasing floes of ice, the
Polaris
beat northward, aiming for the eye of the needle. Passing through Smith Sound, the vessel entered the ice-cluttered narrows that separates Greenland from Ellesmere Island. Tapering in places to a mere sixteen miles across, the three-hundred-mile gauntlet widens north of Smith Sound into Kane Basin, a massive bite taken out of the western side of Greenland by the Humboldt Glacier. Beyond Kane Basin the passage constricts again into Kennedy Channel. Beyond that passage lies the Lincoln Sea, sweeping north of Ellesmere Island and the northernmost tip of Greenland. No land exists north of here. Here is truly the end of the earth.
Ancient mariners might leave the unknown edges of their charts white and fearfully mark “Here be dragons.” But this is land's end. And dragons do live here in the form of frightening gales, building-size bergs that bulldoze down the straits, and numbing cold. A man lost overboard is dead within fifteen minutes from hypothermia. Within
Similar Books
