'GANS AT SEA

pt II

'GANS ON ICE

by Lucille D'ecoupage

Chapter Three

For many weeks the crew toiled. Insurmountable odds foiled, them. Finally they made landfall. Unable to locate their cache of stores, they spent days scouring the bush. Indeed, there was no sign of anything surrounding the predetermined coordinates. They spent a fortnight cutting wood for fuel for the ship's furnace and it was decided that the Sceptre would forfeit her supplies and head south for safe haven.

And so, the Rotund sailed north, laden with fuel and moldy supplies in order to become wilfully trapped in the ice so that as the next spring came, they may have advantage over nature. It was determined that the Sceptre then would return - bringing fresh meat, vegetables and sweet fruit from the colonies...

Today is Sunday and as such it is our habite to reste unless some minor catastrophe befalls our crew as did laste sabbath as a visitor presented himself and proceeded to re-engineer our mission ~

Dickinson put down his quill and remembered the exchange of the previous week. In his mind he heard a knock at the door, "Yes?"

The voice of the Whaler was on the other side, "Begging your pardon Sir. I vas vondering if I might haf ein word with you."

"Proper channels crewman. You know the proceedure."

"Jah, but I think vot I haf to say would be of special interest to you, if you get my drift, zo to speak."

Dickinson rose from his small desk and made his way over to the hatch. He did not entirely trust this strange individual and he opened it only a crack. "Yes?" he asked of the repulsive creature who stood before him.

"Are you not going to invite me in Zir?"

"What is it you want?"

"Only to stop ze warm air from ezzcaping, good Doctor..."

The blanketed man was allowed inside and began talking at once, most likely to conceal that he shivered uncontrolably. "Vell, Sir, it oc-c-curred to me just yesterday zat I am familiar viz this territory. I haf sailed zese waters on numerous occasions in search of quarry and haf gone further up zis coast zan any official survey has... " He paused to warm his hands at the small stove that stood in the centre of the quarter deck. "At any rate, on many occasions I haf had contact vith the people who inhabit zese shores unt I understand it is your intention to enlist some of them as hunters."

"Zat, ahem... That is correct."

"Sir, as it appears to me, being only a leadsman, but please have confidence in me, ve vill be hard and fast in the ice for many months... I vould like to make contact with some peoples I know furzer to ze west."

"We have already planned our actions."

"Jah, jah, mit begging your pardon Sir, but ze people of this coast I can assure you have already lost the trust in our intentions. Let me go ahead and make contact viz the others. We must make our way furzer up ze coast. They vill be of more use to us."

Dickinson thought for a moment or two. He was still unsure of the Whaler's motivation. If he had had previous dealings with the local inhabitants, why was he so determined to make contact with the others. The Whaler continued so as to not allow him this time to think.

"Zey are afraid of you, but that vill not stop zem from dealing... I fear it vould be to our detriment to haf any dealing with zem at all. Ze others vill be trustworthy, zey haf not had as much contact mit der European... Let me go first. I haf three men in mind to go with me unt ve vill establish ourselves well."

"Let me discuss this with the Captain."

There was a slight hesitation to the Whaler now. He seemed less convinced of his plan. He made his way back towards the entrance, his eyes fleeting around the room. He made his apologies and scurried out of the room. Could he be so ignorant as to not suspect that Dickinson would have to consult with the Captain of the vessel? As soon as Farthing had returned from above deck, Dickinson related his encounter. In the end it was decided that Tarbin would accompany the Whaler's party. Proceeding as far up the coast as possible was after all, their immediate goal.