We sat in the helicopter and time dragged by whilst a rime of white gradually covered the bank and the spray froze on the shelving pebble beach. And then the storm passed and the wind subsided. But the cold remained, striking through the Perspex as though we were all locked in a deep-freeze. Laroche looked at his watch and then at the pilot, who climbed out and stood looking up at the sky. ‘Well?’ Laroche asked.
The pilot shook his head doubtfully. ‘Looks bad,’ he said.
Laroche got out then and the two of them stood together, staring up-wind and talking quietly. The pilot looked worried and he, too, glanced at his watch, and then he said something to Laroche, who nodded and gave a little shrug of the shoulders. It was a gesture of acquiescence and I watched him deliberately fold the map and put it away in his pocket. They removed the stones from the skids then and the pilot climbed back in. ‘We’re going back,’ he said.
I couldn’t believe it. The storm had passed and we were halfway there. ‘Surely having come this far — ‘ My words were drowned in the roar of the motor as Laroche swung the rotor blade.
‘Sorry,’ the pilot shouted in my ear. ‘But my orders are not to risk the machine. It’s about the most vital piece of equipment we’ve got.’
‘Men’s lives are more important than a helicopter,’ I said.
‘Sure.’ He nodded sourly. ‘But if you want to get caught out here in a blizzard, I don’t. Anyway, Bert agrees with me, and he knows more about this country than I do.’
So it was Laroche who had finally decided the matter. “Surely it’s worth taking a chance on it?’ I said as he squeezed in beside me and slammed the door.
‘You want to go on?’ He looked at me quickly, a nervous, unhappy glance. And then he leaned across to the pilot. ‘It’s up to you, Len — you understand that?’
‘Sure. And I’m going back just as fast as I can.’ He was revving the engine. ‘We’ll be lucky if we make it back to the grade before the snow starts again,’ he shouted as he lifted the machine off the ground, slipping sideways across the leaden surface of the lake. ‘As for those two guys, they’ll be dead anyway by now. If they were ever alive,’ he added.
‘But I told you-‘
‘It’s for Len to decide,’ Laroche said sharply. ‘He’s the pilot, and he says we’re going back — okay?’
I left it at that. I couldn’t argue with them. And anyway, now that we were headed into the wind I wasn’t too happy about the position myself. We were crossing the little lakes again and all ahead of us the sky was dark and louring, black with cold. Visibility was steadily decreasing and a few minutes later we flew into more snow. At least we’d reconnoitred the route as far as the third lake marked on the map and had got about halfway to our objective. We’d proved that the map could be followed, and that was something.
We struck the grade only a few miles north of the camp, and if it hadn’t been for the blaze of a fire fed by a work gang, I think we’d have overshot it, for the snow was like a solid grey wall and the white carpet of it on the ground almost obliterated the line of the grade itself.
We landed at the same spot, and as we got out I saw Paule Briffe get up from a pile of gravel where she had been keeping a lonely vigil. She watched us for a moment, and then she turned abruptly away and began walking slowly back towards the camp. Laroche had seen her, too, and the lines of strain were back on his face and his eyes had a haggard look as he watched her go.
The helicopter took off again immediately, heading north and hugging the grade, and as it disappeared into the snow, a mood of extreme depression took hold of me. I knew we shouldn’t get the use of it again and that our last chance of flying in had been lost on account of the weather.
This was confirmed by Lands that evening. He called us into Darcy’s hut immediately after the supper meal and told us bluntly that if we still intended to try to reach the lake, we’d have to make it on the ground. ‘I had the General Manager and one of the directors through here today,’ he said. ‘And they made it plain to me that the helicopter was not to be used for anything but supervising the construction of the grade. Well, that’s that, I guess.’ He gave a little shrug. He was looking at Paule.
‘But surely,’ I said, ‘if it were explained to them — ‘
‘If what were explained to them?’ he demanded harshly. ‘They know all there is to know.’ He hesitated, and then said awkwardly, ‘They don’t believe Paule’s father is alive. Anyway,’ he added quickly, ‘they have a lot on their plate. There’s more than a thousand men working on the grade north of here, and a hell of a lot of machinery, and that helicopter is the only means the Superintendent has of keeping them driving.’ And then he was staring at me. ‘Well, you’ve seen a bit of the country, you know what it’s like now. Do you still say that your father was sane and that message a genuine transmission?’
They were all staring at me, and I suddenly realized that this was the moment of decision. I had only to say I wasn’t sure and Lands would veto any further attempt. His eyes were fixed on me and I could almost feel him willing me to say it. Laroche was watching me intently, too, his long fingers nervously running the zipper of his parka up and down. Darcy’s expression was one of curiosity, an artist watching human behaviour. And Paule, she was staring at me, too. But I couldn’t see what she was thinking. Her face was a sallow mask, the features fine-drawn, the mouth a tight line. And then I heard myself saying in a flat, colourless voice, ‘I’m quite satisfied my father was sane and I’m perfectly certain he received that transmission.’
What else could I say? If there’d been a way out, then I think I’d have taken it. But there wasn’t. I’d gone too far to turn back now.
In the sudden silence I heard the girl’s breath expelled in a little hiss of sound, and then Laroche said, ‘How can you be certain?’ The words seemed dragged out of him.
‘Because my father had been a radio operator all his life,’ I told him. ‘A man doesn’t make a mistake like that when his whole life has been given to one thing.’ I hadn’t meant to emphasize the word ‘mistake,’ but as I said it, it seemed to hang in the air, and I felt Laroche withdraw into himself.
‘Okay,’ Lands said. ‘That settles it, I guess.’ But he sounded uneasy about it. ‘It’s up to you now, Ray,’ he added, turning to Darcy. ‘You willing to go in?’
‘I guess so.’ Darcy’s voice was flat, matter-of-fact.
‘And you, Bert?’
Laroche glanced at Paule Briffe. ‘If that’s what you want?’ And when she nodded, he said, ‘Okay then.’ But, like Lands, he didn’t look happy about it. And the girl, aware of his reluctance, said impatiently, ‘What else is there to do — if we cannot have the helicopter again?’ She looked across at Lands and he shook his head. ‘There’s no question of that, I’m afraid.’
‘Then it’s agreed?’ She was looking round at the rest of us. ‘We will start at dawn, yes?’
And so it was settled. We came down to the details then and there was a long discussion as to whether or not we should take a canoe with us. In the end it was decided we should. From what we had seen of the country from the air, there was as much water as land ahead of us, and though the portageing of a canoe would slow us up on the land stretches, it was felt that we should more than make up for it by avoiding the long detours necessary in skirting lakes and muskeg. It could always be abandoned if it didn’t work out as we hoped.
The task of getting together all the things we needed for a bare existence in the bush took us about an hour and a half. We collected them in Darcy’s hut — food, cooking utensils, clothing, packs, a gun, axes, fishing gear; a great pile of equipment that had to be sorted and divided into loads for portageing. We finished shortly after nine and then I asked Darcy to take me down to the radio shack.