March 11, 2018: Ray was ecstatic to see that a Canadian finally viewed his story. I must say, I was rather gratified as well. My compatriot, should you make it this far, I would like to get a comment from you. ~B. Fraser
Chapter Forty-four: Desperate Times
I was relieved that Ray did considerably less complaining during the next stage of our journey. I looked forward to seeing Innusiq and possibly June and their daughter. I was a little nervous because I hadn't been keeping in touch with them as I ought, and because it had been years since I saw them in person. But the moment I saw Innusiq and the look in his eye, I knew all was well.
He greeted me with a kunik, something he had bestowed upon me only once before, when I moved from Nunavut back to Inuvik with my grandparents. We had borne the parting bravely while still within sight of one another (though June was tearful throughout), but I confess that as soon as I was in the moving van, I succumbed to tears, myself. Innusiq had been the closest thing I had to a brother, and he was dear to me.
Hearing his voice, albeit deeper than I remembered, was like coming home. "It's been too long, Ben."
"I know," I said, filled with genuine regret.
"You don't write much anymore."
That was true, and inexcusable. "You're right. I've gotten distracted." My eyes fell on Ray. "Innusiq, I want you to meet my good friend, Ray Kowalski."
Ray remembered my mentioning Innusiq before, and seemed pleased to make the acquaintance. I told him that Innusiq had married June.
"Only because you moved away," Innusiq said, winking. "Best favor you ever did me."
I thought his first statement probably untrue, and his second definitely false. I knew from the wink and the grin that he was merely teasing me. He had missed me as much as I missed him.
Then he delivered the shocking news that he had named his newborn son after me. I wondered if that had been his idea or June's. I could scarcely form words to thank him for the unexpected honor. I knew that it was more usual for Inuit children to be named after dead loved ones, so the spirit of the loved one could inhabit the new body, but I also knew that Innusiq did not hold very strongly to the old beliefs. There was another significance in the naming to me, though: after the death of John Franklin, his daughter and other descendants continuously put his name into the names of their children. His daughter named her first son and daughter "John Franklin" and "Eleanor Elizabeth Franklin" Gell. That Eleanor, granddaughter to Franklin, named her daughter "Eleanor Franklin" Wiseman, and put Franklin's name in her other four children's names as well. It seemed that when it came to explorers, passing on the name was a heritage of great honor.
When we retrieved Dief from quarantine, he immediately sensed the mutual regard between Innusiq and me and stayed close to my old friend, sniffing him and looking to him for direction as he would to an alpha wolf.
"Does Dief remember Innusiq from way back?" Ray asked, noting the behavior.
I shook my head. "They've never met before."
I should have known we couldn't get off the mainland before Innusiq told at least one embarrassing story about me. It was entirely true that once I heard June throat singing with her cousin, I became fascinated by the rhythmic sounds of this unusual custom. I did ask June to teach me many times before she relented, but nowhere along the way did anyone deign to tell me it was traditionally a women's game. Not until I had begun to get the hang of it, at any rate, and by then I had started to enjoy the pastime and felt utterly betrayed by the revelation. Innusiq's teasing had been merciless.
I was glad that Ray seemed to like Innusiq, and we both took leave of him with regret. But as I looked around the cabin of our plane headed to Gjoa Haven, at the crates of dogs, Innusiq's sled and my partner, I began to feel the excitement of the call of adventure once again.
Ray seemed set against passing our nights on King William Island the way we had the last time, and I knew it had taken a toll on him, so I determined to do my best to find more comfortable arrangements. As luck would have it, a shopkeeper named Hendricks was more than happy to accommodate us. Finding an indoor place for even the dogs to sleep was more than I had hoped for. The stock room of the general store was far from glamorous, but neither Ray nor I had any complaints. It would stay above freezing at night, and it was out of the wind.
Once we settled in and had dinner, we were reunited with Cpl. Martin at the local RCMP station. He was kind enough to offer his help in getting the Hamlet Council to meet with us in exchange for a little volunteer work. Naturally, we agreed.
The next morning, we arranged the Council meeting and then started for the Inuit village to reacquaint ourselves with the Netsilik. By and large, they welcomed us in a most friendly manner. The children were overjoyed at the return of Diefenbaker, who had insinuated himself into their hearts on our previous visit. They were also glad to see both Ray and me, and took to following us around, listening in on conversations.
Though they were mostly friendly and harmless, I did keep an eye on them for attempts at pick-pocketing. It wouldn't have been the first time a smiling youngster had portrayed himself as a bosom friend on the surface while attempting a little thievery on the sly. However, to the best of my knowledge, Ray and I retained all our belongings.
The adults were more interested in selling trinkets to us than they were in discussing history, but I had expected that. I wasn't disheartened in spite of not gaining any clues about the focus of our quest.
Our entourage dissipated as we approached the grave for the second time. I glanced over the plaque by the grave and read the part in Inuktitut: Name erased, memory immortal. I had thought it an over-simplification of the English translation on our first visit, but now I wondered if it meant something different.
"Think he's in there?" Ray asked.
I knelt by the head of the grave, trying to imagine what might have gone through the mind of an Inuit burying a white man with intent to cover the corpse's identity. "I don't know," I said. "I hope so... but we can't know yet."
It was then that Tulugaak joined us. He seemed to know the reason for our return already, and hinted that he might be able to help us, whether or not the Hamlet Council would. I was intrigued, but Ray was mistrustful. It seemed only logical to me to pursue any and all leads, time permitting. But I was neglecting the lesson I had learned before on more than one occasion, namely: However sure I am of my logic, it is still valuable to heed Ray's instinct—for our friendship's sake, if nothing else.
We returned to the general store for lunch, but left the dogs attached to the sled, knowing we would be going to the Community Hall straight after. We had to navigate along the side of the road, since some of the new snow had melted away to bare earth in the middle.
The council members treated us with respect, if also with some incredulity. I outlined for them the notions that had prompted our return to Gjoa Haven, but I saw little enthusiasm in their faces. One member asked for Ray's opinion, and he rose to succinctly defer to my judgment and eloquence. I found myself impressed by his candor and application of plain-folks appeal by mentioning a Biblical figure.
For all Ray's insistence that he is not religious, this was not the first time I had heard him make a Biblical reference. Most notably, he had recited the entirety of the Lord's Prayer while delirious with hypothermia on the side of a mountain. But I digress.
Ray's deference to me put the matter back in my hands, and I put it to them in such a way that denying us permission to exhume the grave was clearly the same as embracing a lie. I paused, making eye contact with as many of the councilmen as I could. Then I said, "Thank you for hearing us today."
I took my seat beside Ray, who gave my leg an approving pat. Our request was put to a vote, and the result was in our favor. All that remained was to gain Tulugaak's approval and conduct a professional exhumation.
Tulugaak's approval seemed unlikely to come cheaply, whether it came to money, as Ray suspected, or time and effort, which I thought more likely. He mysteriously hinted at something to be found "two hours north by northwest" from the Netsilik village, and whether it made logical sense or not, the pursuit of it did to me. Tulugaak wanted us to go, and it seemed he would not cooperate further until we did. That was reason enough.
I was tempted to disregard Tulugaak's warning to leave the dogs behind, but if Ray was right about his having spies watch our every move, it would be best to follow his instructions to the letter. If we didn't, he might find us unworthy of his help. His advisory of imminent, fast-falling snow proved to be correct, and that bolstered my confidence in him on a subconscious level.
In the face of the rough weather, it seemed unwise to go far afield, and I decided it was a good opportunity to repay our debt to Cpl. Martin by manning the RCMP station for the night. After giving us keys and instructions, Martin left us to our volunteer duties. Ray made no delay in making a display of intimidation to the prisoners, who were duly taken aback by his foreign tactics. When I admonished him that a gentler, respect-inspiring approach might brook more building of rapport with them, he responded, "That's what you're here for." It seemed he could not abandon his default "good cop, bad cop" strategy, even when not serving in official capacity.
When Ray began showing signs of weariness, I encouraged him to attempt sleep in the empty cell. After about two hours, I woke him and we traded places. A little later, he woke me to say that he was going to investigate a report from a concerned citizen, and I went out to sit at the desk until he returned.
"False alarm," he told me. "You wanna sleep some more? I'm wide awake right now."
I agreed and turned in again. The next time he woke me, it was due to a reported disturbance in a residential area. I agreed to take this call.
I wasn't fond of snowmobiles. I could handle its operation about as well as I could that of a car. Anyone who has followed my career will know that that means "not exceptionally well." I thought about bringing the dogsled back with me, but I didn't want to wake the Hendricks family. The sun had set and by the time I reached the location of the disturbance, it was full-dark.
What I found was a figurative flurry of activity in the literal flurry of snow. Several teenagers, most of them male, were kicking up the fresh snow, gathering armfuls of it, and attempting to put it down each other's coats. I encouraged them to return to their homes, or at least to decrease their volume.
Ray went back to sleep after I returned to the station, and then came the call that completely changed the tone of the evening.
"The general store is on fire, constable. We just got a call from a woman living across the street."
"Have you sent a pumper truck?" I asked, beginning to lace my boots with the phone braced between my ear and shoulder.
"It's leaving now, but the RCMP station is closer. You might be of some assistance."
"Understood. I'll meet you there." As soon as I hung up, I dialed Cpl. Martin's number and quickly filled him in.
"I'll have Jones go to the station," Martin told me. "You and Kowalski head to the store. I won't be long behind you."
"Yes, sir." I hung up and rushed to wake Ray.
"Oh, god... the dogs," Ray said, fumbling for his boots.
I was also concerned for Dief and the others, but there was no point in talking about it. "Come on," I said.
We didn't have to discuss who would operate the snowmobile. I trusted Ray's ability with this vehicle far more than my own. The going was difficult, but Ray knew how to get the most out of the snowmobile, and we made good progress.
As we approached a turn in the road, Ray called back to me, "Stay with me!"
I made sure my grip around his waist was secure. When he moved, I moved with him. I could have taken this turn on the dogsled with an anchor or a good knife, but on the snowmobile, I had to trust Ray entirely. His instinct was perfect; we completed the turn without incident. I heard him shout, "Whoo!" like a cowboy in an old western film. I knew it was an expression of triumph, and in spite of the seriousness of the situation, I smiled.
Then I could smell the smoke. It smelled of wood and synthetic materials, but not flesh or hair. I hoped that meant we were in time.
"Maintain a safe distance," I called to the few citizens who had gathered on the cold street. "The fire department is on its way."
Ray and I gained the front steps and I tugged off a glove to feel the wood of the door. It felt cool, so I replaced my glove and tried the handle. The door was locked. I nodded to Ray and in a single breath, we kicked the door in.
The fire was concentrated toward the back of the store, but it lunged toward us in the glut of fresh air. As it died back again, we spotted Hendricks about to open the window over the stairs. Ray whirled around to slam the door behind us, just before Hendricks got the window open. He seemed capable of assisting his family out that way, so when Ray prompted me to get the dogs out, I didn't hesitate.
I took a few panting breaths to clear my lungs of as much carbon dioxide as possible before holding my breath and moving through the store toward the back. The area around the store room door was well-engulfed in flame. I was sure it had likely begun to creep up the inside of the door as well, but I could hear the dogs barking. They were still alive.
The heat was daunting, and the barrier of fire between me and the door was wide. If I didn't make it through on the first attempt, I would likely be badly burnt, and might fail to save the dogs. There was no other way out of the store room, barring use of an axe from the outside of the building.
Knowing Dief couldn't hear me, I called, "Nanouk!"
The canine voices paused their chorus.
"Nanouk," I repeated loudly. "Back! Back!"
My breath was almost spent, and I rushed forward, leaped across the inferno and crashed through the store room door. As I had hoped, the dogs had gathered at the back of the room, and none were hurt in my entrance. I paused to swat a couple of sparks that had latched onto my clothing and ducked down to the floor to find fresher air. The smoke was strong, even close to the floor, but I gleaned enough oxygen to operate on.
I took Dief's face in my hands. "Trust me," I mouthed to him. And then, I trusted him. I got up, ran back through the store room and jumped across the widening stream of fire once again, not looking back until I was at the far side of the store.
Having no way of knowing how wide the obstacle was, Dief put all his strength into his leap and landed well beyond the edge of the charred flooring. He continued toward me and, when I stretched out my arm, redirected his path to leap over the checkout counter. Nanouk was close behind him, followed by Togo, Aurora, Sami and Nuki. I vaulted the counter after them, shouted to Ray and brought up the rear as we fled the raging blaze behind us.
Fire fighters were on the scene, and emergency medics pulled us to separate locations to check our status. Once I saw that the Hendricks family was all accounted for, I let myself relax, trembling slightly as my adrenaline ran its course. I could smell singed hair in the air now, but I could see that none of the dogs were aflame.
I looked across to the steps of a nearby house where Ray was being treated, and I was struck by how fortunate we had been that night. Only with Ray Vecchio had I experienced anything near this level of understanding and loyalty before. We had made no plan, but executed our parts just as was needed.
It wasn't until then that I wondered whether RayK had a fear of fire. The only time I remembered him holding back from rushing to someone's aid was when the Vecchio house was on fire. I had chalked it up to his short acquaintance with the family, but now I realized that Ray was usually ready to risk his life, even for strangers. Perhaps it had been the fire that deterred him, and not selfishness as he professed.
As soon as the medics were satisfied that I could move around without doing myself harm, I went to Ray and found Dief protectively stationed at his side. The other dogs were grouped nearby, watching us and the frenzied activity with interest. Dief moved back for me and I sat beside Ray.
"All right, partner?" I asked.
He pulled the oxygen mask away from his face. "Yeah," he said. His voice sounded dry and strained, but steady. "How about you?"
I nodded. "Excess lung capacity, remember?"
He smiled a little. "Yeah. Is that something you're born with?"
"Some are born with a propensity for it, but it can also be developed."
"You should teach me."
"Mm. You remembered about the air currents." You were listening.
"Mhm. All the dogs okay?"
"Yes." I put an arm around my friend. "Thank you."
He smiled again, but found nothing to say in answer. After a minute he said, "We might have to find somewhere else to camp."
"We might," I agreed grimly. "But it looks like the water lines haven't frozen up; they may be able to save the structure. If so, it can be repaired."
"I hope so. Hope they're insured."
Cpl. Martin found us then. "I'm glad you two are all right," he said. "I heard you went inside after the Hendrickses and your dogs."
"Mister Hendricks managed to get his family out, himself," I said, "but we weren't willing to leave the building without attempting to save the dogs."
He looked around at the creatures in question. "Did you get them all?"
"And none seriously hurt, as far as I've seen."
"Good. Any idea how it started? Hendricks said the barking woke him and the fire was already too widespread to try to get out the front door, so they went out a window. He couldn't tell for sure where it originated."
"I'm afraid it started where the arsonist intended it to: at the door of the store room, where we've been staying."
"I knew it," Ray said. "Someone's out to kill us."
Or at least the dogs, I thought, but didn't think it prudent to say so at the moment. Ray would surely assume Tulugaak was responsible if the dogs were the target. As it turned out, that was his assumption, anyway.
"You're sure it was arson?" Martin asked, clearly not wanting to believe it.
I nodded. "The fire hadn't reached any sockets or appliances yet, and I'm sure there was no open flame left unattended."
Martin sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "We don't have the manpower to maintain order in town and launch a major investigation at the same time."
"Can you appeal to Iqaluit?" I asked.
"I will... there's no telling if they'll send anyone. It's a matter of taxpayer's money, I'm afraid."
"I try to tell him that," Ray put in. "It's always money."
"Shh," I hissed at him. I looked back up at Martin. "For now, you can let us investigate the fire."
"But that's not appropriate, considering you were the intended victims."
"Desperate times call for desperate measures, Corporal. Besides, I think I speak for both of us when I say that we aren't willing to watch from the sidelines." I looked at Ray to be sure, and he made no sign of protest. "All I would ask is that you don't publish our involvement. My superior has a strong objection to my performing any official duties during time designated as vacation."
"Desperate times, indeed," Martin agreed, nodding wearily. "All right, constable. I'll keep your investigation quiet. Keep me informed on whatever you find. And I know it's unorthodox, but you probably won't find anyone in Gjoa Haven willing to house you after this, so I want to put you up at the station. It's not much, but it's a roof and heat."
"Thank you kindly."
Thank you for reading. Please lend us your thoughts on the story thus far. ~B. Fraser