Dan Simmons - The Terror

After fifteen minutes or so of this, the ice Quieted until the Surface of the Frozen Sea under us once again felt as firm as Stone. We crawled back into our tents.

An hour later, the Bobbing and Cracking began again. Many of us repeated our earlier rush out into the Blowing Wind and dark, but the Braver Seamen stayed in their sleeping bags. Those of us who had Taken Fright crawled back into the Ill-Smelling and Crowded little tents – filled as they were with Snores, Sleeping Exhalations, Overlapping Bodies in Wet Bags, and the Ripeness of men who had not changed their Clothes in several months – with abashed countenances. Fortunately, it was too Dark for anyone to notice.

All that next day we struggled to haul the Boats forward to the Southeast across a Surface no more solid than a tightly drawn skin of India Rubber. Cracks were appearing – some showing six feet thickness of ice and more between the Surface and the Sea – but our sense of crossing a Plain of Ice had disappeared, replaced with the Reality of moving from Floe to Floe on an Undulating ocean of white.

I should Record here that on that Second Evening after we left the Enclosed Ice Lake, I was catching up with my Duty of going through the Dead Men’s personal belongings, most of which had been Left Behind in our General Stores when Lieutenant Little’s reconnaissance group left in their whaleboat, and had come to Captain of the Foretop Peglar’s small pack containing a few scraps of Clothes, some Letters, a few personal items such as a Horn Comb, and several Books, when my Assistant, John Bridgens, said , Might I have a few of those things, Dr. Goodsir?

I was surprised. Bridgens was indicating the Comb and a thick Leather Notebook.

I had looked into the Notebook already. Peglar had written in a crude sort of Code – spelling words in Reverse, Capitalizing the last letter of the last word in each Sentence as if it were the first – but while the Summary of the last Year of our Expedition might have held some Interest for a Relative, Both the foretop captain’s handwriting and sentence Structure, not to mention his spelling, had grown more Laboured and Crude in the Months immediately before and after our Abandoning of the Ships until it had all but disintegrated. One entry read , O Death whare is thy sting, the grave at Comfort Cove for who has any doubt how … [an illegible line here where the book had been Damaged by water]… the dyer sad…

On the back side of that sheet, I had noticed where Peglar had drawn a shaky circle and in that circle had written , the terror camp clear. The date had been illegible, but it must have been around 25 April. Another page nearby included such fragments as Has we have got some very hard ground to heave… we shall want some grog to wet houer… issel… all my art Tom for I do think… time… I cloze should lay and… the 21st night a gread.

I had Assumed upon Seeing this that Peglar had recorded that Entry on the Evening of 21 April when Captain Crozier had told the Assembled Crews of Terror and Erebus that the last of them would be Abandoning Ship the next morning .

These were, in other Words, the scribblings of a semiliterate Man and no Proud Reflection on the learning or Skill of Harry Peglar.

Why do you want these? I asked Bridgens . Was Peglar a friend of yours?

Aye, Doctor.

You require a Comb? The old Steward was almost bald .

No, Doctor, just a Remembrance of the man. That and his Journal will serve.

Very strange, I thought, since everyone was lightening their Loads at this point, not adding Heavy Books to what they had to Haul.

But I gave Bridgens the Comb and Journal. No one needed Peglar’s remaining Shirt or Socks or Extra Wool Trousers or Bible, so I left them on the Pile of discarded items the next morning. All in all, the Abandoned Final Possessions of Peglar, Little, Reid, Berry, Crispe, Bates, Sims, Wentzall, and Sait made for a sad little Cairn of Mortality.

That next morning, 12 July, we started coming Across more Bloody Patches in the Ice. At first the Men were Terrified that these were More signs of our Mates, but Captain Crozier led us to the Great Stained Areas and showed us that in the Centre of the Great Starbust of Crimson was the Carcass of a White Bear. They were all Murdered Polar White Bears, these Bloodstained areas, often with little More than a shattered Head, Great Bloodied White Pelt, Cracked Bones, and Paws left behind.

At first the men were Reassured. Then, of course, the Obvious Question set in - what was killing these Huge Predators just Hours before our Arrival?

The answer was Obvious.

But why was it slaughtering the White Bears? That answer was also Obvious: to deprive us of any possible Food Source.

By 16 July, the men seemed Incapable of going farther. In an 18-hour Day of Incessant Pulling, we would cover less than a Mile across the Ice. Often we could see the previous night’s Pile of Discarded Clothing and Gear when we camped the Next Evening. We had found more Slaughtered White Bears. Morale was so low that if we had taken a Vote that Week, the Majority might have voted to Give Up, Lie Down, and Die.

That night of 16 July, as Others Slept and only One Man stood Watch, Captain Crozier asked me to come to his Tent. He now slept in the same Tent with Charles Des Voeux; his purser, Charles Hamilton Osmer (who was showing signs of pneumonia); William Bell ( Erebus ’s quartermaster); and Phillip Reddington, Sir John’s and Captain Fitzjames’s former captain of the fo’c’sle .

The captain nodded and everyone except First Mate Des Voeux and Mr. Osmer left the tent to give us Privacy.

Dr. Goodsir, began the Captain , I need your advice.

I Nodded and Listened.

We have adequate Clothing and Shelter, said Captain Crozier . The extra boots I Had the Men Haul along in the Supply Pinnaces have saved Many Feet from Amputation.

I agree, Sir, I said, although I knew this was not the Item upon which he was asking for Advice .

Tomorrow morning I am going to tell the Men that we shall be Leaving One of the Whaleboats and two Cutters and one Pinnace behind and will be Continuing on only with the Five Remaining Boats, said Captain Crozier . Those two whaleboats, two cutters, and final pinnace are in the Best Condition and should suffice for Open Water, should we Encounter Any before the Mouth of Back’s River, since our Stores are so Reduced.

The Men will be Heartily Glad to hear this, Captain, I said. I certainly was. Since I now helped Man-haul the boats, the Knowledge that the days of Accursed Relaying were over quite Literally took some of the Ache from my shoulders and back .

What I need to Know, Dr. Goodsir, continued the Captain, his voice an Exhausted Rasp, his face Solemn , is whether I can cut back on the Men’s Rations. Or rather, when we Do cut back, will the Men still be Capable of hauling the Sledges? I need your Professional Opinion, Doctor.

I looked at the floor of the Tent. One of Mr. Diggle’s Hoosh Pans – or perhaps Mr. Wall’s Portable Contraption for Heating Tea back when we had bottles of Ether left for the Spirit Stoves – had burned a Round Hole there.

Captain, Mr. Des Voeux, I said finally, knowing that I would be Stating the Obvious to them , the men do not have enough Nourishment now to meet the Requirements of their Daily Labours. I took a breath .

Everything they eat is Cold. The last of the Canned Foods was Consumed many Weeks ago. The Spirit Stoves and Spirit Lamps was left on the Ice with the Last Empty Bottle of Pyroligneous Ether.