Moving over to Eliza first but the girl is far more determined to continue working than let her do her job. Leaving Eliza quickly but letting her know, "Please come find me when we are done."
Quickly going over to Alphonso, "Swearing is normal but thank you." [ooc]No clue how much I give you back
Once she is sure no one has any injuries that will prevent them from working she starts looking around. Calling out, "Did acid or wear and tear do this?" She is looking at the straps that once held the crates.
Alphonso looks and says it is sabotage, either from before that we missed or new. If before then we will not find more. and Alphonso thanks Phoebe for her aid as he flexes the injured yet well treated wounds.
Mon dieu - what didn't this man sabotage?
"Let us hope we find no more because there is no more to be found!"
Eliza clutched her side. A quick peek under her shirt revealed the dark purple and blue bruise that spread from her hip half way up her side.
Could be worse. I hope it isn't as bad as it feels
Grunting and hissing through clenched teeth, she tired to process the new information.
"We... we need to do inventory. See if anything is missing that could be used for more damage. We also need to do equipment and cargo checks.
Best in teams of 3 or 4. You say the saboteur is dead, but if they had allies then we need to unfortunately watch each other, with each member double, even triple checking their team members searched area."
She hissed again, clinging to the wall next to where she sat.
"I'll take you up on that first aid now, if that's still alright.
We need to tell the captain. Call a meeting. I know parts of this vessel need to be manned, but if we can't get everyone in one room at once it leaves too many variables uncertain.
I'd pitch my own innocence, but even new comers aren't in the clear. Not now. We can't afford it.
Anyone here know anything about chemistry? Something that can let us have a idea of how long that acid would've needed to eat through the ropes? That would at least give us a time frame to work with."
Eliza takes a look herself, despite just telling Nurse Barrett she was ready for first aid.
She clearly should've waited, as her injuries made it impossible for her to analyze anything.
---
The group manages to find crew available to aid in the clean up of the kerosene though that is a small matter compared to the damage done to the planes.
You find Moore who calls a meeting with Starkweather to discuss the terrible turn of events.
---
James Starkweather is red-faced and furious at the news of the damage—doubly so once the sabotage is revealed. He storms back and forth for more than an hour, shouting curses and slamming his fist into the wall and on the table. "There is nothing we can do except push on". Starkweather exclaims.
Moore shakes his head, "Push on? This might be the time to head back to Melbourne, get further financing locally and repair what is broken..."
Before Moore can finish his sentence Starkweather becomes violent at the mere suggestion , he flips his desk, trembling, choleric, he saws the air with clenched fists as he shouts.
“No! Out of the question! Impossible! Not when we’re so close! Three planes, or two, or one—it does not matter, we’re going on! On, I tell you! Now get out!”
---
Eliza spends the next day in the ship infirmary as Dr. Greene attends to her.
---
Stanley and Louis pull all of the pilots available to work on emergency repairs over the course of the next few days.
---
The furious storm continues for two more days, calming gradually on the morning of November 1st. Visibility remains low—the sky is lost behind flurries of heavy snow—but the captain decides it is safe to turn south in calmer seas. Gabrielle turns her nose once more toward the Pole.
By the 1st, Eliza is feeling well enough to aid in the repairs to the planes, such as they are.
Throughout that day, and through the next, the ship weaves its way carefully though fleets of giant icebergs. Progress is steady, though slow. Ice mountains loom up through the murk and pass by without a
sound. All that can be heard abovedecks is the faint whine of the wind, the hiss of waves, and the cries of the crewmen on lookout at the bow and stern.
On November 2nd, the ship moves into a region where the surface of the sea is crowded with shards and clumps of icy slush. These clatter thinly against the hull but do not impede forward progress; nevertheless, as the sea ice grows thicker and begins to harden, the captain turns west in search of clearer water.
All of the 3rd is spent pushing through thin sea ice. Large ice floes are everywhere, as well as flat sheets as much as a half mile long. It is clear that the Gabrielle has reached the outskirts of the pack ice; and that the pack is, indeed, loose and running. It does not, however, seem safe to turn south.
By the end of the day the ship’s westward progress is stopped by ice. To the south and west, in all directions, the sheets and humps of the pack extend as far as the eye can see. The sea is flat, the sky cloudy and the air clear but cold. Even the usual swell of the sea is damped by the presence of ice on all sides. After so many days at sea, the unmoving deck feels strange underfoot.
Louis looks serenely out over the ice, lost in his own thoughts. Strange that I should travel to the south pole before the north. Looking across the deck and seeing Eliza at the rail, he crosses over to her.
"Feeling better, I hope?" he says with a smile. "If I'd taken such a hit, I don't know if I'd have fared so well! You Australians are from tough stock."
Alphonso comes upon deck to stretch and consider all that is happened wondering for a second time if perhaps he should not disembark on the ice after all the issues when suddenly his keen eyes spot what others have not and he sees a way for the ship to make further in
look there! a way through the ice for the ship, there! he waves and points until the information gets to the pilot and captain.
Before Eliza can respond, the radio operator is distracted by Alphonso's commotion. He runs over to the man, following his indications of where to look. He's right! He gives the man a friendly clap on the shoulder and a flash of his large square teeth before running off to tell the captain the good news.
Stanley, with the feverish pace of repairs, is starting to see aircraft parts in his dreams. Sometimes even phantom repair work fills his mind during wakefulness. Such is the case now, and even with the commotion and people pointing it out, all he can see when he looks out from the boat during his break are more struts and wing panels.
Clearly he needs to take more breaks, but he's not sure that there's time to allow for it. It doesn't help that, this far south, the way the sun refuses to set has been messing with his rhythms, despite his best attempts to black out the window in his cabin.
Keeping to the infirmary, feeling bad for not being as helpful as she feels she should. Guilt is a familiar part of her work.
Taking a small break and heading up for some fresh air since Dr. Green keeps glaring at her. Only for her stomach to hit her feet. Ice! Quickly moving towards the one directing the ship, that oh so important person.
Finally able to pick her stomach up when she hears Alphonso saying something. More likely to listen to him than me.
Once Alphonso announces what he has seen. Starkweather himself comes aft to see with his own eyes the path.
"Good show Banker! We'll make an explorer out of you on this trip lad!"
Starkweather orders the captain to press on. By noon the ship has pushed twenty miles into the pack. Walls and cornices of ice rise to port and starboard, and the chunks and panes of sea ice atop the lead tinkle musically as the ship pushes through. The ice rises and falls on either side, slowly, rubbing and crumbling in blocks as big as a man, now and again splitting apart with sharp gunshot reports.
The barometer begins to lower once more toward sunset, but the ship pushes on. On the 4th another storm hits. This one is fully as powerful as the one the week before—winds up to seventy miles per hour, blown ice and hail, heavy seas. This
time, however, an added danger exists—the pack itself.
Around the ship, the ice moans and shatters from the force of the sea. Huge bergs roll and grind against the Gabrielle as she tries to turn to clearer water, but there is nowhere to go. Again and again, the ship clangs and heels as spines and shoulders of hard ice grind against the hull. Armored plates groan and yield, but thankfully do not break!
Crewmen and passengers huddle in the mess, praying, while others toil or simply
hide. There is little else to do but wait. The ship survives—miraculously, it seems. The deck is awash with ice, and great seams and gouges can be seen over the rail—but the storm passes with the night, as swiftly as it came, leaving behind a new world.
To all sides the solid walls of the pack are broken. Narrow cracks and threads of open water show at every hand. Gabrielle turns southward again, pushing gently into the pack and forcing her own way carefully forward beneath a smoking blue sky. All hands are required on deck to help push away the smaller bergs with long poles, or repair the damage left by the squall.
Forcing the pack is a dangerous undertaking. The ship’s engines roar and rumble
as she inches up to a floe, nestling softly alongside, then churning the sea behind with all the power she can bear. Usually the ice yields. Again and again she presses forward in this way, the heavy crashing thrum resounding through the hull.
The pack ice on all sides is very thick and very old. Weird hummocks and spires
rise up at odd angles; layers of dark and light ice like the striations in ancient stone can be seen at every hand. All around are the colors of the sea: white, green, and every shade of blue, shifting from instant to instant and sparkling like cast diamonds in a stray ray of sunshine.
Throughout November 6th through the 8th the ship pushes onward through the pack. On the morning of the 8th, the radio reports that Lexington’s Tallahassee is trapped deep within the ice, not more than three hundred miles to the east. There is no way the Gabrielle could help the other ship, but from the satisfied look on Starkweather’s face when he hears the news, it is just as well.
On November 9th, the wind dies out and a thin mist descends upon the sea. Ghostly vaporous fingers rise from the water and curl around the ice; the colors of the sea and sky blend and twist eerily off of the pack. Distant objects blur
and reappear like illusions—one minute the lookouts can see to the horizon, the
next the nearest bergs are all that can be made out through the haze.
About nine o’clock that morning, a cry is heard from the lookout, as a darkened mass on the far side of an iceberg comes into view. As the Gabrielle gets closer, the bow of a trapped whaler can be seen protruding from the ice, half frozen and adrift.
First Officer Turlow surveys the wreck through binoculars. “It’s the Wallaroo,” he says, uneasily. “She disappeared last autumn during a squall. No one has found a trace of her—until now.”
After some discussion between Starkweather, Moore, and the captain, the Gabrielle pushes closer. A small boat is lowered and a handful of expedition members volunteer to go explore.
It's not the sort of activity that Stanley ever would have believed he could volunteer for, but he could do with something, anything, to give his mind a bit of a rest. For the last several days, every waking moment spent not fixing the aircraft has been spent thinking about the repairs on the aircraft. The latter largely because the nature of the sea they're traversing is so incredibly stressful and emotionally taxing. He needs something else to focus on for a while, grim as the undertaking might be. It's unlikely that the Wallaroo's story has a happy ending.
To justify his presence, if necessary, he'll mention that there's nobody better suited to judging whether any equipment they might find on the other ship would be helpful, or even still functional.
"I'll go, sir!" The Canadian stands up straight and gives the captain a proper salute. "Best if I gave Mr. Chastain some assistance, especially with the radio, sir. After all, you can never have too many working radios."
Alphonso will go down and bring out his shotgun and a box of ammo and load the wrapon and then get a mining helmet with light and a hand held flash light and put that in his other coat pocket and finally two knives putting those on wrist sheaths and then move to the group saying without them knowing he has all this I too will go
Seeing Alphonso's mining helmet, Louis decides he'd better prepare himself as well, equipping himself with an electric torch and a crowbar.
Curiosity keeps her wrapping in as many layers as she can find so Phoebe can linger on the deck as often as possible. The noise of the ship forcing its way though the ice is fascinating.
All the conversation about the lost ship, the Wallaroo, brings Phoebe over. A really ghost ship.. Hmm, someone will probably get hurt so that bastard can't argue that I should stay behind.
"Let me go grab my bag. If anyone id injured while over there I should be able to make it easier to get them back here." Running off to the medical bay to grab a bag. I mean this is what I am here for.
As the Gabrielle approaches the derelict ship more details become apparent, the hull split in half at the midpoint, ice completely encompassing the fore section, while in the aft the distinctive twisted metal of a boiler explosion scars the hull. Eerily distorted whistles of wind careen through the misshapen pinnacles of ice.
Peter Sykes the arctic guide tethers a rope allowing you all and he across to the doomed ship near its midsection; the rooms and cabins that remain are mostly either forward or aft of them. As you proceed you stumble upon misshapen parts of skeletons, flesh stripped bare and frozen bodily fluids encrusted within the wood they lie upon.
The scene is grizzly, but Stanley is barely paying attention to it. He was rather expecting to find that the crew of the other ship had come to a bad end, after all. Hopefully there's still equipment that can be salvaged, though. And hopefully the boat holds together while they're exploring it. The way the ship is rent in twain has him rather worried.
I hope you all fulfilled your raisons d'etre and have moved on, my brothers. Louie clicks on his electric torch and begins looking for the radio room.
For some unknown reason the banker remains calm and keeps his hands inside his jacket at all times as if holding something tight or bracing from the cold
Not particularly bothered by the gruesome scene before her and even going so far as to inspecting the various bodies they pass.
Phoebe kneels to inspect the bodies, the cause of death, from what she can tell is severe frostbite. What is odd is that the clothing has been stripped from the bodies, animals perhaps?
As the Investigators continue their inspection, little remains of the central portion of the ship. An explosion of the ship’s boilers buckled the hull and blew away much of the deck. The corroded ice-shrouded remains of the engines hulk below, open to the sky; the few human remains in that area are mostly bits of charred and blackened bone.
Stanley glances uneasily about the ship and the results of an apparent explosion. "I think it's probably best that we be as quick as possible. It looks like the ice is the only thing holding this boat together, but it's summer down here now. I intend to check for any supplies surviving in the cargo bay. Seems like the best bet to me, so I'd welcome help, but if anyone else would prefer to look elsewhere I would suggest splitting up and searching concurrently rather than consecutively. I don't know how much time we have."
"I agree that time is of the essence. I will check the captain's quarters and forward deck."
"People suffering from frostbite are not going to strip and feel even colder. Either someone else was here and took there clothing. Perhaps to keep warm or we are not the first to stop here."
Turning towards Stanley, "No more than one split in the group if we have to."
the removal of clothing shows others here, let us all start in the cargo bays and work our way up Alphonso says to the entire group.
"Their nakedness is strange... But why take the clothes of dead men - undergarments and all? Perhaps whatever caused the boiler to explode first made it run hot for a time, too hot to be below decks clothed?" Louis pauses a moment. Too hot inside and too cold outside. Such a fate, in such a place, might break many men.
"If anyone was here before us, they must have found the wreck soon after it exploded, no? They would hardly chip the clothes off frozen corpses. They will be long gone, I think. And if they salvaged even the sailors clothes, I think then they made off with everything that was actually useful, too."
"Mister Chastain, is time as dire as you say? If so, I think we should split into pairs to search the most area for anything still left behind."
Peter Sykes nods at Phoebe, "Agreed, no more than two groups to split. For now what happened to these people will have to remain a mystery, let's conduct the search and go.
Phoebe and Mr. Wolf, come with me to the cargo hold while Louis and Stanley head to the Captain's Quarters and Forward Deck. We can all meet at the crew's quarters and from there head back to the Gabrielle".
You head back across the dangerous and slippery upper section of the ship and find the stairs that bring you to the Captain's Quarters. This once luxurious room contains the remains of a feather bed, a desk, and a trunk which is padlocked. The desk is badly weathered by the sea air and the bed still contains an occupant. The dried and frozen remains of the captain lie in the bed, fully dressed, with a pistol beside his outstretched hand. An empty whiskey bottle lies nearby.
Whatever supplies that once rested in the second cargo hold are either gone or spoiled. All that remains are a half-dozen haphazardly scattered cases of canned goods. The labels of these have loosened over time and now lie scattered around the cases like dried leaves.
The last hold is similar to the prior cargo bay. A few more boxes and barrels of supplies may be found here, all of them long spoiled. The only salvageable remains are found in a heavy locked strongbox bolted to the forward bulkhead. The key is nowhere in sight and you can try force it open to no avail. Peter shakes his head, "I am strong but this thing is frozen and locked!"
Louis takes in the scene a moment, then moves to investigate the captain in his bed. "The crew naked throughout the ship, while the captain lays in bed fully clothed? I fear these men may have broken under the weight of their situation."
Suspecting suicide, he inspects the captain's head before gently searching through the dead man's clothes. Once his search of the corpse is complete, he takes the pistol and pockets it.
"I suppose that's as good of a theory as any with what we've seen so far," Stanley agrees, shrugging. "I wonder if there's a log in here somewhere that can shed some more light on what actually happened." With Louis volunteering to search the corpse, Stanley will begin his search with the desk.
Staring at the crates, "Are we planning to take those?"
Shrugging, "I do not have anything to help with that beyond my shoulder and it would do less than yours."
the crates no, what is inside them perhaps if we had a tool would take what is inside as in this climate many things could be the difference in survival. Alphonso says simply.
Louis finds yet another false back in the desk which holds a leather bag which contains an iron key and several gold coins of unknown origin with oddly shaped sea creatures depicted thereon.
Stanley gingerly lifts the front cover of the log and squints at the barely legible writing inside. Reading through it is clearly going to take more time than he wants to spend on this ship right now, and whatever is written inside can probably wait until they get back to the Gabrielle. He closes the cover and tucks the tome under his arm.
"Found a log," he mentions over his shoulder. "It's not in very good shape, though. It'll have to wait until we get back. Anything interesting on the captain?" As he asks he strides over to any unlooked-in cabinets or closets and starts poking around.
Alphonso nods and heads to meet with the other crew saying when they do we found a locked chest below but no way and no key to enter it
- Together Once More
Finding little of value in the cabinets Stanley and Louis head back to the crew cabins where they already find the rest of the exploration team.
The crew's quarters are small and cramped, eight foot square rooms intended
for four people. None have bodies in them. Many contain shredded and moldering linens. Locked cabinets (easy enough to break based on their make and the weathering they've taken) at the foot of each bed contain the personal effects of the crew, such as dice, cards, pictures of family, tobacco, razors, etc. Along the wall the remains of several nets contain stiff discolored clothing.
Peter Sykes shrugs, "That chest is clamped to the floor so I guess we've got to abandon it. You found the Captain's log?"
"I did," Stanley says, holding the book aloft as evidence. "It's hard to read in its current state, so I figured it'd be best to bring it back to the Gabrielle and go over it in a more, er, stable environment."
"I found this key, maybe it will work?" He holds out the iron key. "If not, I also have my crowbar, yeah?"
- Together Once More
Peter takes a look at the key, "Looks like it could fit but we cannot know until we try it, is everyone game to head into the bowels once more?"
Shrugging, "In for a penny, in for a pound."
let us try itAlphonso says following along with the others.
"Indeed, let's go," Stanley agrees, more than a little curious.
Louis smiles wide. "Of course!"
The Investigators and Sykes head down into the cargo bay once more, frozen breathing and the sound of their boots against the icy metal the only sounds that can be heard within the doomed vessel.
Still nothing stirs but then what would in such a god forsaken place?
Louis produces the key and it fits the lock, with a little bit of jiggling the lock box opens revealing a dozen bottles of rye whiskey. The last booty that will be revealed here on the vessel your group wagers.
The group places bottles in free pockets and carries the rest in gloved hands as they did not risk this venture only to leave these items here frozen in time forever.
Once the group returns and debriefs the Captain on the state of Wallaroo, the Gabrielle once again begins moving forward to its ultimate destination.
The captain’s final entry wishes his family well, praises his crew, and wishes them all good fortune. It is dated two weeks after the accident.
The Captain's final log reads:
March 12th.
It is over. My hand is wholly useless now, lost to the gangrene, and the red lines of infection have spread past the tourniquet and up my arm. There is nothing to be done.
My own stench disgusts me.
Bowers passed on in the night.
I am no Shackleton, no Mawson, to face the odds and overcome them. I am merely an old tired soul who has lost the gamble and will die alone upon the ice. The horrible endless ice. It is beautiful, but heartless. In these past few days I have come to hate its cruelty. It cries, and
whispers, and moans to me in the still air, grinding hopes and prayers away in mindless hostile fury. I pray the others got away.
There is nothing for anyone here. Even the whales are long gone.
Should anyone ever find this log, let me praise once again the excellence and skill of my officers and crew. Their loyalty and stout hearts are without peer. I wish them well and pray that they are now safely homeward bound.
I give my love to Nancy and the boys. May they find happiness in years to come. I only regret I cannot hold them to me one last time.
God forgive me for what I am about to do.
Stephen Willard, Captain
SS Wallaroo
Stanley isn't much of a drinker, but reading through the captain of the Wallaroo's final days makes him feel like dipping into some of that whiskey they found. He can't imagine sitting injured and alone, slowly dying on the bottom of the world. He probably would have taken the same way out if placed in that same position.
The thought of Captain Willard sitting out there all alone, dying on the ice gives him shivers. He wonders if any of the crew made it to safety on the boats, and resolves himself that once this expedition is over he'll try to find the captain's family and get this log back to them. It's the least he can do.
Pocketing what bottles she can while looking around the room. I think I have lost my mind. What if I end up dying during this?
Alphonso says it could have been used as fuel to keep warm.
Alphonso will suggest they have their captain secure it as well.
Louis's eyes light up when the contents of the lockbox are revealed. "Ah! Well worth the extra effort, no?" He gleefully stuffs bottles into his jacket pockets. His look sours somewhat at Alphonso's suggestion, but he doesn't disagree. "We should let the Captain decide what to do with the whiskey, it's true," he sighs. "But he is a good man, I'm sure he'll make the right decision."
Back on board the Gabrielle, Louis will ask for a private moment with the Captain. Once they are alone, he gives him the strange golden coins he recovered. "Very exotic, no? I thought it best not to show these to anyone else. Should our going get tough, better not to have people's thoughts turning to treasure already recovered, I think. Such a thing would not help anyone's resolve."