nodded. “We can only hope and pray for a miracle.”
“How did the ship end up against the rocks?”
“During the night, the sailor on watch wasn’t doing his job. He must have wrapped himself heavily against the wind and fallen asleep. The gale blew the
Windward
from its mooring, and it drifted against the shoal. Before the crew could move it, the tide had pulled out, and the ship was stranded.”
“Did anyone freeze? Or drown?”
“Everybody made it to shore. For a few hours last night, Marie and I took shelter in an igloo. The Eskimos here welcomed us.”
“The people did the same for my husband and me.”
She sprang to her feet. “Good Lord, I think that’s my trunk!”
We hurried down to the shore. Duncan, his red hair frozen in points that stuck out from beneath his blue wool cap, came wading through the water, protected by high slick boots.
Kiihal
. I stopped in my tracks and breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled a rowboat loaded with goods. With some effort, he wrapped his gloves around Mitti Peary’s trunk and heaved it onto the beach.
He gave a weary smile, his face raw and red, and I guessed he’d been out in the storm all night. “Hello, Billy Bah.” His voice was hoarse. “I was looking for you. Glad to see you made it through.”
I greeted him with my eyes, and copied his words. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
Mitti Peary and I each took a handle of the trunk and dragged it up the beach, often stopping to rest. At last we reached the tide line. She sat and caught her breath. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” I remembered to say.
Pleased and proud, I turned toward the village. Marie appeared in the distance, running alongside a child about her size. “Marie’s found a friend.”
“So I see.”
They reached the top of the hill and disappeared from sight.
“Marie is very naughty. I warned her to stay close by,” said Mitti Peary. “What if she gets lost?”
“I’ll fetch her.”
“Billy Bah,
thank you
again. I couldn’t manage without you!”
I trudged up the beach, following Marie’s footprints: Her boots had heels. Next to hers were the softer oval prints made by a child of our people.
The prints followed tracks that were round and spiked by claw marks. They’d spotted a fox. I followed the tracks beyond the hill and into a little valley where the fox tracks met with the hopping trail of rabbit feet at a frozen pond.
Marie should know better than to stray
, I thought.
I followed the tracks up the valley. Here the children’s voices must have chased the wary fox away from the trail. I could see only the rabbit’s tracks continuing around a big boulder. There they were!
“Marie!”
“Shhh,” whispered the other child. Her hood was round, the shape of a girl’s
kapatak
.
Just beyond the boulder, an enormous rabbit as white as the snow sniffed the air. Marie crept toward it, and it vanished behind rocks.
Marie brushed snow off her coat, forlorn. “I wanted him for a pet.”
“Keeping animals in cages is foolish,” I said. “And you can’t catch rabbits without traps.” I added, “You shouldn’t have wandered off. I spent a lot of time looking for you.”
“Sorry.” Marie looked down at her boots.
The other girl looked up, eyes smiling. It was Tooth Girl. “I’m Akitsinnguaq. I know you. You’re Eqariusaq.”
“That’s right,” I said, still cross. “Let’s go. We need to go see about the ship, and find my husband.”
The girls bounded ahead like sled dogs let out of a harness. I hadn’t seen Marie run off on her own like this—so foolish, in this land she did not know.
“Don’t run on the icy patches.”
Marie fell, but jumped to her feet again.
The sun, now partway down to the horizon, told me that it was mid-afternoon. Time to find Angulluk, see what kind of a camp he’d made, and if he’d caught us anything for dinner. Even more than that, I wanted to know if the
Windward
had escaped the icy waters and
“How did the ship end up against the rocks?”
“During the night, the sailor on watch wasn’t doing his job. He must have wrapped himself heavily against the wind and fallen asleep. The gale blew the
Windward
from its mooring, and it drifted against the shoal. Before the crew could move it, the tide had pulled out, and the ship was stranded.”
“Did anyone freeze? Or drown?”
“Everybody made it to shore. For a few hours last night, Marie and I took shelter in an igloo. The Eskimos here welcomed us.”
“The people did the same for my husband and me.”
She sprang to her feet. “Good Lord, I think that’s my trunk!”
We hurried down to the shore. Duncan, his red hair frozen in points that stuck out from beneath his blue wool cap, came wading through the water, protected by high slick boots.
Kiihal
. I stopped in my tracks and breathed a sigh of relief. He pulled a rowboat loaded with goods. With some effort, he wrapped his gloves around Mitti Peary’s trunk and heaved it onto the beach.
He gave a weary smile, his face raw and red, and I guessed he’d been out in the storm all night. “Hello, Billy Bah.” His voice was hoarse. “I was looking for you. Glad to see you made it through.”
I greeted him with my eyes, and copied his words. “I’m glad you’re safe.”
Mitti Peary and I each took a handle of the trunk and dragged it up the beach, often stopping to rest. At last we reached the tide line. She sat and caught her breath. “Thank you for your help.”
“You’re welcome,” I remembered to say.
Pleased and proud, I turned toward the village. Marie appeared in the distance, running alongside a child about her size. “Marie’s found a friend.”
“So I see.”
They reached the top of the hill and disappeared from sight.
“Marie is very naughty. I warned her to stay close by,” said Mitti Peary. “What if she gets lost?”
“I’ll fetch her.”
“Billy Bah,
thank you
again. I couldn’t manage without you!”
I trudged up the beach, following Marie’s footprints: Her boots had heels. Next to hers were the softer oval prints made by a child of our people.
The prints followed tracks that were round and spiked by claw marks. They’d spotted a fox. I followed the tracks beyond the hill and into a little valley where the fox tracks met with the hopping trail of rabbit feet at a frozen pond.
Marie should know better than to stray
, I thought.
I followed the tracks up the valley. Here the children’s voices must have chased the wary fox away from the trail. I could see only the rabbit’s tracks continuing around a big boulder. There they were!
“Marie!”
“Shhh,” whispered the other child. Her hood was round, the shape of a girl’s
kapatak
.
Just beyond the boulder, an enormous rabbit as white as the snow sniffed the air. Marie crept toward it, and it vanished behind rocks.
Marie brushed snow off her coat, forlorn. “I wanted him for a pet.”
“Keeping animals in cages is foolish,” I said. “And you can’t catch rabbits without traps.” I added, “You shouldn’t have wandered off. I spent a lot of time looking for you.”
“Sorry.” Marie looked down at her boots.
The other girl looked up, eyes smiling. It was Tooth Girl. “I’m Akitsinnguaq. I know you. You’re Eqariusaq.”
“That’s right,” I said, still cross. “Let’s go. We need to go see about the ship, and find my husband.”
The girls bounded ahead like sled dogs let out of a harness. I hadn’t seen Marie run off on her own like this—so foolish, in this land she did not know.
“Don’t run on the icy patches.”
Marie fell, but jumped to her feet again.
The sun, now partway down to the horizon, told me that it was mid-afternoon. Time to find Angulluk, see what kind of a camp he’d made, and if he’d caught us anything for dinner. Even more than that, I wanted to know if the
Windward
had escaped the icy waters and
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