The Pole by Eric Walters Page A

his head. “Not sure. Could be forty.”
    â€œForty!” I exclaimed. “Why so many?”
    â€œIt will take that many men if our mission is going to be successful. Do you know about the Peary system?” I shook my head.
    â€œIt was created by the Commander. It involves the use of a number of different teams. Some teams lead, breaking trail, travelling light, while others follow, bringing supplies and caching them along the route. It takes a lot of men and a lot of dog teams.”
    â€œDogs? I didn’t know we was bringin’ dogs with us.”
    â€œThe Pole can’t be reached without dogs,” Matt explained. “Earlier Arctic explorers didn’t realize that.The Commander learned many things from the Native peoples—the use of dogs, dressing in skins, living off the land whenever possible, and the use of Eskimo sledges—they called them komatiks. That could be your second word in Inuktitut. Say komatik .”
    â€œKomatik.”
    â€œYou’ll be talking like an Eskimo in no time.You’ll have plenty of time—the whole winter to learn.” Matt paused. “I was wondering, how old are you, Danny?”
    â€œFourteen.”
    â€œThat makes you two years older than I was when I left home.”
    â€œYou left when you were twelve?”That seemed so young.
    â€œNot much choice. There really wasn’t much to leave behind after my father died.”
    I felt my heart rise up into my throat.
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” Matt asked.
    â€œMy father died when I was seven,” I said softly.
    â€œHis ship went down and the whole crew was lost.”
    â€œWhat a tragedy. Your mother must have been devastated.”
    I nodded. “She was. Don’t think she ever was the same again.”
    â€œThank goodness you have your mother.”
    â€œHad,” I said softly. “She died when I was the age you were when your father died.” I felt myself starting to tear up.This was silly … it was over two years ago.
    Matt put a hand on my shoulder. “Danny, my mother died when I was seven. You and I are like twins—we went through the same experiences, in different places and at different times.That makes us more alike than anybody else would know.”
    I looked up at Matt. His eyes had that sad, sorry, misty look that I was feeling.
    â€œHard stuff,” Matt said. “When things get difficult, I try to remember the words of Friedrich Nietzsche.”
    â€œIs he a friend of yours?” I asked.
    Matt smiled. “I guess he is, although I’ve only met him through his words and writing. He was a German philosopher. He said, ‘What does not destroy me,makes me stronger.’” He paused. “You and I, Danny, we survived the deaths of our parents at a young age. It is tragic, but it has made us both who we are.We are survivors, and to survive we had to be strong.”
    â€œSometimes I don’t feel so strong,” I said, my voice cracking over the last words.
    He put both hands on my shoulders and looked me square in the eyes. “You are strong,” he said.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    AUGUST
    THE SMOKE STREAMED OUT of the stacks as the engines worked hard to break through the layer of ice.The whole ship shuddered and for a split second was suspended in place before it crashed through and into open water. I shielded my eyes to try to follow the open lead—a little river of water cutting through the ice. It wasn’t wide but it looked to extend for at least a mile or more. Good.
    A few days’ sailing north of Etah, the ocean ice had started to become almost a continuous sheet layering the ocean. The Roosevelt was strong and built to take on the ice, so the Captain had rammed his way through when it was thin enough. Other times the ice had rafted together and he’d had to move around it instead. We had shifted back and forth, like a drunken sailor, unable to move in a straight line. At times