Hidden Page Two - Excerpts from The Vitebsk Story
To a Candid World - Copyright 1998 Thomas Wolfsehr“Camera is a Russian vessel hired by Robert Walton
for the purpose of exploring the polar region and a route
to the Pacific Ocean. In order to satisfy requirements of
the insurance underwriters, Walton hired Jerzy
Godunov, who was more experienced than himself, to
captain the ship. The final authority, which, for more
than two months, had resided in Captain Godunov,
devolved to Walton in mid July, when Captain Godunov
fell into the sea in a fog. The confidence of the crew was
sustained, in part, by respect and affection for Godunov
and, in part, by Walton’s ingenious preparations. He
conceived of a number of means to assure safety and
success. With such innovations as the use of dye to mark
ice and balloons as navigational aids, Camera made
exceptional progress towards its goal.
“On the last day of July, a person was seen rapidly
traversing a vast plain of ice on a sled pulled by about
twenty dogs. That person, I think, was yourself with
these dogs. The following day began with the sighting of
a second sojourner, who had been less successful,
having become stranded on an ice raft with but one dog
remaining alive. From the outset, this man aroused
everyone’s curiosity, but his weakened condition
required that he rest undisturbed, which he did for two
days in the captain’s cabin under Dr. D’Shoof’s care.
“The doctor, finding his patient recuperated to the
point of impatience, allowed that he might come on
deck Thursday afternoon. Going straightway to the
forward starboard rail, the guest searched the horizon
with a glass. When I asked to know the object of his
search, he said only, ‘I am looking to recover that which
was taken from my family.
“When I asked him if others of his family were also
in pursuit of that goal in this vicinity, he looked at me in
bewilderment. I explained that we had seen a traveler on
the ice the day before we rescued him. Hearing this, the
guest became agitated. ‘Der teufel!’ he spat out several
times, as if unable to control himself. When he had
recovered his composure, the guest asked many
questions concerning what had been observed. The
number of dogs I had counted was twenty-one, I told
him. The sled’s progress had been rapid and on a
northerly course. When he asked if it was possible that
the traveler’s sled had become stranded when the ice
broke up, I could only tell him what had been observed
from the balloon, which had been sent aloft not long
after the sighting. After that, the guest’s questions were
all directed towards it. He was especially interested in its
use as a means of blasting ice barriers. Praising Captain
Walton for having conceived of the advantages that
balloons could bring to an expedition such as ours, he
asked that I inform him of the earliest opportunity he
might have to speak to the captain, who was, at the time
occupied with his scientific examinations of specimens.
“When I next saw the guest, he was engaged in
conversation with the captain concerning balloons.
“‘Our guest is acquainted with none other than
Jacques-Etienne Montgolfier,’ the captain said to me.
“‘My family and the Montgolfier family are linked in
the history of several places, among them my family
home in Frankenthal,’ the guest added rather cheerily.
“And did you then ask the guest’s name?” the singer
asked.
“I did, but he said that he was suddenly quite fatigued
and excused himself, retiring to the equipment room,
which he had preferred as his quarters.
“By Sunday, the guest was not only well enough to
come on deck, but was much involved with the balloon.
Eight days after coming aboard, he made his first ascent,
which went well. Four days after that, the guest
suggested that the blasting of the ice we had
encountered would be expedited, if he made the ascent
with the bombs alone. It had been the practice to have
the tethered balloon manned by a crew of three, during
blasting operations. By reducing this to one, the guest
had pointed out, more explosives could be carried aloft
in an ascent, decreasing the number of flights necessary
to blast through the ice. Captain Walton agreed to a trial
of the guest’s proposal, which proved successful enough
that the captain was willing to try another of the guest’s
innovations the following day.
“What the Frankenthaler (he was by that time so
called, as no one knew his name) proposed Sunday, the
thirteenth, was a single ascent. That is, he proposed that
we forego the preliminary ascent, during which the
optimum places for blasting were determined and
marked with dye. Again the operation was successful
and the Frankenthaler was praised.
“Two days later, when barrier ice was encountered,
the Frankenthaler made the ascent alone. As usual, most
of the crew climbed the ship’s rigging for a good view of
the proceedings. Blasting ice provided entertainment, as
well as a greater safety and efficiency, often producing
splendid effects, as great amounts of ice were shot into
the air. That day, however, the spectacle was altogether
unexpected and was thereafter referred to as the debacle.
The first sign that something had gone wrong was the
separation of the tether line, after which the balloon
drifted apace eastward. As a precaution against such an
occurrence, the balloon was equipped with a line and ice
anchor, but this the Frankenthaler did not deploy.
Instead, after floating further away from the ship for
about a quarter of an hour, the bombs began to drop. It
was obvious that blasting so far from the ship would do
us no good, yet it continued, until the balloon vanished.
Some claimed to have seen a flash.
“Captain Walton and Edward Fowler led a party of
fifteen men onto the ice within an hour of the balloon’s
disappearance. By the time the party returned two days
later, the thirty-seven of us, who had remained on board,
had many questions concerning what had happened.
Camera had become nearly surrounded by menacing ice,
and morale was low. Morale among those returning to
the ship was even lower. To make matters worse,
Captain Walton had ordered the rescue party to say
nothing concerning what had happened those two days.
Men, who would have to rely on one another for the
preservation of their lives, became burdened on both
sides of the divide that Captain Walton had imposed.
“The Frankenthaler, who, other than a few minor
injuries, was none the worse for his misadventure, had
an advantage not available to his rescuers. He could
avoid the questions that weighed so heavily on the
minds of two-thirds of the company. He retired to the
equipment cabin and ventured out not at all, or if he did,
it was surreptitiously.
“The balloon was severely damaged and would
require many days to repair. That much could not be
kept secret. Also seriously damaged was the confidence
of the crew in Captain, who, as the ship struggled on
without the use of its most useful equipment, spent
much of his time sequestered in the equipment cabin
with the guest.
Kaganski and Belinsky stood looking at a bill that
had been posted on the main mast sometime during the
night. Kaganski, shaking his head, said, “There will be
no end to this.”
“It is a ridiculous accusation and will prove itself so,”
said Belinsky. “Lt. Worth will submit to a search, as will
Dr. D’Shoof. Nothing will be found to indicate that the
captain has been drugged or poisoned. Anyway, the
captain has been making some progress Grannum says.”
“Nothing will satisfy the anonymous author of this
bill of accusation,” Kaganski replied. “If the captain
improves, he will say that it is because, fearing
discovery, the alleged conspirators have eased up on the
doses. Inventory or no inventory, there will be enough
for the suspicious to feed on.”
“But, the accusation is that the captain is being
drugged to prevent him from fulfilling his promise to
end the expedition,” said Belinsky. “Anyone with eyes
can see for himself how unnecessary such a supposed
conspiracy is. If the captain had double the faculties he
possessed before his illness, he would still not be able to
sail for home. We are trapped in ice we cannot break our
way through, and the sea freezes more and more as each
day passes.”
Ask Louis if the captain didn’t appear to be in some
sort of stupor.” Picard replied.
“What are you saying? Dr. D’Shoof is in league with
Lt. Worth? Ridiculous. You’re talking nonsense,
Charles,” said Kaganski.
“Am I? Do you not know that both of them spent a
good deal of time in the West Indies, where evil men
make zombies of their enemies? And what of the
Lieutenant’s brother’s death? Very mysterious that was,
I’ve heard it said.”
Even before setting foot on deck, Mr. Kiselev
began to report, “There is ice to the south, which is
impenetrable. It extends to the west even further than
does the ice field to the north. If we were able to sail
straight down the path between the barriers, we might
just pass through the narrowest part of the passage very
near the western terminus of the ice field to the north.
Even if we have wind soon, the lee of the ice to the
south would present a great danger. There is no sign of
wind at all now. The current, however, has the southern
ice closing on the ice field to the north. Our escape from
this closing vise requires that we tow the ship to the east,
the shorter distance to open sea.”
There were groans of disappointment, and as Lt.
Worth began to speak, Charles Picard fell to his knees
and was soon joined by Louis Gummere and several
others in fervent recitation of the Lord’s Prayer.
“Thank you, Mr. Kiselev,” said the lieutenant. “We
must act quickly and with all regard to safety and
efficiency. Mr. Syme’s watch and Mr. Fowler’s will
ferry to the north ice with hauling line. Jondo, go with
them and harness your dogs to the line. Send your sled
back to the ship in the long boat. It will be stowed
below.”
“Lt. Worth, what if the sea freezes?” asked seaman
Grannum, expressing the fears of many.
“Dropping counter-balancing anchors on any newly
formed ice will break it up,” answered the lieutenant.
“We’ve tackle designed for just that purpose ready to
deploy.”
Thus the hauling of Camera began, during which the
great exertions of the crew and dogs resulted in slow yet
continual progress. After a balloon observation on the
fourth day, the lieutenant reported to the crew.
“Under favorable conditions our effort has brought us
more than half way to open sea. If the weather holds,
and there is yet no sign of a change, we should be able to
make our escape before dark Tuesday.”
“What then, Lieutenant?” asked seaman Charles
Picard. “What will our course be? We were assured by
Captain Walton that we would return home. Will you
affirm that the promise he made will be kept?”
Aloft on a platform, seamen Picard, Grannum and
Kaganski were guiding the balloon line with a long pole
to keep it from being snagged in the ship’s rigging.
“Captain Walton is finished, if he doesn’t come
around soon,” Grannum was saying.
“A man in command of a ship doesn’t hide himself in
a crate and then refuse to say anything when
discovered,” said Kaganski. “I’m afraid Captain Walton
is finished already.”
“What if he didn’t hide himself?” said Picard. “What
if he were drugged and put into the crate?”
“Charles, who would do such a thing? You can’t
seriously think that,” Grannum chided.
“Someone who opposed the Captain’s decision to
end this expedition might have taken it upon himself to
put the captain out of the way. Ask Louis if the captain
didn’t appear to be in some sort of stupor.” Picard
replied.
“What are you saying? Dr. D’Shoof is in league with
Lt. Worth? Ridiculous. You’re talking nonsense,
Charles,” said Kaganski
In the hold where the balloon gas was produced,
Louis Gummere was saying, “It was a sign from God.”
“But you said that it was a sign that the captain
would return, and he hasn’t,” Kaganski interrupted. “Not
half an hour later Erschke tells us that we’ve rescued
another German and that the captain has not left the
ship. Pavel saw some frost formed on sailcloth that
looked to him like a face.”
“It matters not what instruments God chooses to use.
The frost was handy, as was the sailcloth. God used
them to make the face of the Christ appear,” Louis
replied.
“Did anyone else see this sign, as you call it?” asked
Kaganski. “If I had, I’m certain that I would be no more
convinced than I am now.”
“Grigory, two months ago you saw the icebergs
floating in the heavens, just as everyone else did. You
saw it, but you did not believe that it was a miracle, a
sign from God. What did you call it? An illusion, I think
you said it was. How can you have spent so many years
at sea and still not believe?”
“How can you think that I lack something so
valuable? I recall well what the icebergs floating in the
heavens were said to portend. Does your belief require
me to forget? The portent of a successful voyage is what
the icebergs were taken to be. In what sky was the
retraction of that promise written? No one told me of it.”
Just then Lt. Worth entered. “How goes it, men?” he
asked, indicating the gas production apparatus.
“Quite well, sir,” Gummere answered.
“That is well. The balloon should be ready to launch
at daylight. We will be able to survey our situation with
regard to the ice, and we may use the balloon to retrieve
Jondo’s sled and dogs.”
“Well before daylight we’ll have a full bag, sir. The
reserve vessel has increased the rate of production by a
third,” said Gummere.
“Very good. Is there anything else? asked Worth.
“No, sir,” Gummere replied.
“Not to be impertinent, sir,” said Kaganski, “but are
there more Germans out there?”
Lt. Worth, when he had finished laughing, answered,
“Grigory, I believe that we have collected all the
Germans now in the arctic.”
After the lieutenant had gone, Kaganski asked
Gummere, “Why didn’t you tell him about Pavel’s
vision?”
Lt. Worth,” he said, “I believe you are correct in your
thinking regarding the captain. It fits with a small
discovery I made in the guest’s cabin shortly after you
left the ship. Having left the guest’s cabin for but several
minutes, I returned to find something that caused me to
suspect some person had been in the cabin during my
absence. This was lying on the floor. It was not there
before. I am certain of it,” the doctor said, handing Lt.
Worth a folded paper.
“This appears to be the title page of Wieland’s
Agathon, with some writing on it in German. ‘Freund,
the image is yours again. I ask nothing in return. I go to
my end quietly, with the hope that, if not you, some
agent will lead her to wonder of her parents. Perhaps she
will read The Tempest and, in a dream, glimpse us.
Farewell.’ Is that a fair translation, Mahler?”