The fog settled over them, thick and impenetrable, rendering the ship all but immobile. Only the view from the crow's nest offered any indication of their surroundings, and even that was severely limited. When Raoul allowed himself to think about it, he had to fight the urge to fly into a panic. They were in the Arctic sea, where ice was always a possibility, and they could not see. He kept his calm by forcing himself to concentrate on the dreamlike atmosphere the fog created. He could almost convince himself that he was not truly there, and would wake up at any time. Christine would have appreciated it; she would have made a game of it, insisting that they imagine themselves in a fairy tale, or a Gothic novel. He did his best to record brief, but thorough descriptions of it; had he possessed any artistic talent, he would have made her a series of sketches. As it was, he didn't think that even she would want a bunch of scribbles a child could have drawn. Well, she would have found it amusing, but not enough for him to waste paper on a joke. The fog would have to lift eventually, and when it did, he hoped very much to see a narwhal; that would certainly be something she would appreciate. As it was, they might have been surrounded by the strange whales, but they never would have known it. He had discovered that thinking of everything in terms of how he could describe it to Christine helped to ease the pain of their separation, and helped him to find some interest in what he was doing. He still missed her terribly, but it had become an old injury with a persistent dull ache instead of a gaping wound.
Though his frame of mind was better, he still would have preferred to be home with her. He had decided to make more of an effort to be social, but Albert was the only person with whom he felt really comfortable. That was fine with Raoul; he had always been the sort of person who preferred having a few close friends over a large circle of acquaintances. Raoul found himself becoming less guarded, and Albert was an easy person to be around. He was congenial, he didn't usually talk too much, nor did he seem to mind when Raoul was not in the mood to talk. By the end of everything, Raoul thought they would probably be very good friends. It made him a little angry, because he wanted to be able to go home and tell his brother that he was wrong and everything about the entire ordeal was awful. "You were wrong; it was horrible, and this is my new friend," did not quite have the same impact as "You were wrong; it was horrible, and everyone hated me."
Truthfully, he no longer thought that everyone else hated him, just that they wondered at his presence aboard the ship. He had considered himself disliked, until he chanced to overhear a conversation about himself between Albert and the first engineer. It was then that he realized that he was more of an object of curiosity than anything else.
"This wasn't his idea, was it?" the first engineer asked.
"Maybe at one point it was," Albert answered, "But in the end, I don't believe it was.
"He does precisely what he needs to do, no one can fault him, but he acts like a well-behaved prisoner. As soon as he has a moment, he shuts himself away from everyone else. I would think that he actively disliked everyone, if he weren't so damned polite when he's forced to interact. I understand being quiet, or a bit shy, but that cannot account for all of it. He doesn't act like someone who has the slightest desire to be here."
Raoul had never told Albert that he had tried to get out of the expedition, but he had told him more and more about Christine, and obviously Albert had figured things out for himself, for he replied, "I'm certain he does not. I don't know that he ever tried - he is not very forthcoming on the subject - but I believe he would have welcomed the opportunity to back out, and I do not think his brother would have liked it very much."
"Of course not. How embarrassing would that be for him? Going to all that trouble to get his brother on this expedition, and then having to get him out of it. What would people say? Can't have people thinking his brother is a coward, can he?"
"That was probably a factor, but there is another - a girl. I think his not wanting to be here has more to do with her than anything else. Without going into details, I know he's very serious about her, and though I don't know the whole story, I doubt his brother approves.."
"Oh..." the first engineer gave a sad little half-laugh. "So he does actually talk to you? I wondered if he did... This seems like a very extreme way to keep him away from a girl."
"I'm sure there is much more to it than that, but yes. And please, keep this between us. He never said I shouldn't tell anyone else about her, but it's not my story to tell."
Raoul didn't mind that Albert had told someone else about Christine, and the rest of it was most likely apparent to everyone. It left him feeling unsettled. He could handle people not liking him; this was something different. He knew at that moment that he had to stop sulking, had to at least feign some interest in his current life. He was the Vicomte de Chagny. He should not be an object of pity, and he certainly didn't want people thinking him cowardly or childish. Albert had a wife, and a little daughter. He did not speak of them often, but when he did, his affection was evident. He certainly wasn't the only person on board with a family. If Albert, and everyone else, could hold it together, so could Raoul. It did not matter that they had wanted to be here and he did not; he could not change his situation, and it was time he started dealing with it in a better way.
He stopped shutting himself in his cabin at the first opportunity. Once the fog had effectively trapped them, stopping so much of their day-to-day work, there was very little to do other than socialize. He still did not say much, but at least he was around other people, interacting in a somewhat normal manner. Albert never said a word to him about the sudden change in his behavior, though he could tell that his new friend was pleased when he joined in a game of cards for the first time, instead of locking himself away again. He only wished he'd started being social earlier. It helped the time pass.
Quite suddenly, as though someone had pulled a blanket off them, the fog lifted. It was far from the relief the crew had expected. They had all known there would be ice, even in the summer months. No one had expected that there would be so much it as far south as they still were. Raoul was right there to see the color drain from the captain's face as the man realized there was no maneuvering out of it. All they could do was drift along, hoping for the best, until they hit clearer waters.
They wouldn't starve; they could easily sustain themselves by hunting from the ship. The biggest worry was striking the ice, but with as little as they could move, they wouldn't be hitting anything at a fast pace. No, the panic rising in Raoul's chest wasn't due to a sudden impending doom, but the possibility of a slow, lingering one. He'd heard stories of ships trapped in ice, drifting for months, years even. Perhaps this was the same fate suffered by those they were supposed to be rescuing, and in three years time, another rescue expedition would be mounted for the crew of the Requin. He had never wished himself home more than in that moment; he wished them all home. How old would Albert's daughter be by the time she saw her father again? What if she never did?
Raoul had a passing thought that if they were stuck indefinitely, and he made it home only after several years, he would certainly have earned the right to say "I told you so" to his brother. Philippe would probably feel so guilty that he would even relent on the subject of Christine. It almost made him laugh out loud, though he was glad he did not. He would have looked like a lunatic, and he did not want people speculating about his sanity in addition to the rest.