Play@YSDC

The Rose Room - The Amherst Hotel, New York
07:30pm - Sunday 10th September, 1933

Treasury Agent Parker and the Bureau of Prohibition spend two days searching the cargo holds of the SS Gabrielle for their ‘contraband’, but to no avail; as James had suggested, this appears to be only the latest and most ambitious attempt to delay the Starkweather Moore Expedition.

Thanks to Jack and his editor Patterson the Treasury agents are at least under under some pressure to complete their investigations quickly, but the rest of the city’s press clamour for blood as Parker chases the last high profile bust of prohibition.

The expedition team are placed under what amounts to ‘house arrest’ throughout, unable to leave the Amherst Hotel.

At the end of the two days though an embarrassed Parker is forced to admit defeat and publicly apologize to the expedition, the only alcohol stored in the Gabrielle’s holds was a 55 gallon drum for the photography lab, as well as the box stored in Graves’ cabin for ‘medicinal purposes,’ and both these items are correctly entered in the Gabrielle’s manifests.

When Moore stands beside Starkweather at the evening meal of the 10th the pair are smiling at last, “Gentlemen, and Miss Knight – we sail tomorrow with the afternoon tide. Everything is aboard, but for your personal belongings and the last Boeing...”

Moore pauses and looks at his watch, “...which should be being loaded as I speak.”


There is muted, somewhat relieved cheering from around the room.

“Everyone will move aboard tonight, immediately after you have eaten here. You have your cabin assignments already, First Officer Turlow will provide any further help that you need. So as soon as you are packed and your personal items are stowed aboard, you are free to enjoy one last night on the town.”

“Again, congratulations and thanks for your hard work. We are ready to sail, despite a lot of trouble, and that is because of each of you. You have our eternal thanks.”

“Try not to stay out too late,” he smiles, “and I shall see you all aboard.”


Moore sits down, and Starkweather speaks a few words of his own, “Yes thank you everyone.” He nods to Jack, “particularly Jack and his newspaper colleagues for helping to sort out this final delay.”

“If it’s not too much bother, I would like one or two volunteers to remain aboard the ship during the night. We don’t want any more unexpected delays now.”

"What should we do to celebrate?" asks Kitt, smiling around at the assembled people. Her blood was up, excitement shining clearly in her eyes.

Sean sighs in Relief. Finally we'll be taking off. After hearing the need for two volunteers, he figures he may as well get used to the ship since he'll be spending a good bit of time on it. Sean raises his hand to signal he will volunteer.

thinking to himself...

Be good to make sure they have all my equipment too...

"I'll head back to the the Gabrielle, Professor Moore." says Callum. "I've spent a good few sleepless nights looking after her, and her cargo, so I'd like to see her safely out to sea, I think. And I'll have plenty of time to catch up on my sleep once we're under way."

The Rose Room - The Amherst Hotel, New York
07:30pm - Sunday 10th September, 1933

"I'm sure I know a few places we could go to celebrate," the young doctor Greene smiles at Kitt.

"Are you joining us Olof? Jack?" He looks around the other gathered explorers, "We'll be aboard the ship for two months, I'd like a night out after being detained in the hotel."

Kitt can't help but giggle a little, tilting her head a little to the left and to the right, her cheeks flushed. She tries not to meet his eye, hoping that will save her dignity but knowing that she's flirting far too helplessly for anyone not to notice. It was sad, in its own way, because she knew that once a group started thinking of her as a girl, they wouldn't stop, and she wouldn't be encouraged to do anything dangerous or fun. The best thing to do would be to draw as little attention to her femininity as possible but it was hard to do right now. The doctor just made her feel giddy. Hell, Jack...

"Where should we go, Doctor Greene? Do you know anyplace nice? I'm not from around here..." She rolls her eyes skyward and utters a little tee hee. "...and from where I'm from, we didn't really have as many choices of where to go. I didn't really get a chance to see the sights here anyway."

James approaches Starkweather & Moore "I would prefer to stay on the ship tonight, although I dont think I will get much sleep as I want to ensure there is no last ditch attempt at further sabotage our trip. I will head back over there as soon as I have cleared my room & checked out"

"Herm, yes, well ..." Jack says, twitchily removing then replacing his hat. "I suppose, that is, well, I could think of some places to, um, go. However, I think I should, uh, see whether Detective Hansen has anything for me. Yes. I think I have that file to return. You remember that file, right? Well, good evening anyway. Perhaps I'll, er, catch up with you a bit later. I'm sure the concierege can help. Help you, I mean. With your finding a spot, I mean.

"Well, anyway, good night, um, evening."

With that, Jack shuffles off in the opposite direction.

"The file?" Kitt asks, hopping to her feet and following Jack with a look of genuine naievety of her face. Unlike most women, she had never had to become a champion empath and what skills she did have had been overshadowed by her excitement for tonight.

"Oh yeah, that file. What do you think Detective Hansen might have?" she asks, leaning in confidentially as she follows him, expecting to hear some great secret or mastermind bit of detective work. She had taken to reading pulp detective fiction when she had spare time on her hands and had genuinely believed that people did things like that and came to astounding conclusions.

Feeling that a night out would be nice Olof tells Dr. Greene. "A break from all these troubles would be nice. I don't know any fun places to visit in New York though."

Maurice breaks away from the others. Moore's conditioning had sunk so deep these last few months that even when Frenchman dreamt it was of nothing more sorting and checking the inventory over and over again inside of his sleeping mind.

It seemed almost irresponsible not to take these last few moments to once more triple check all of the ice breaking and survival equipment they kept on board. Should things go astray while they traversed the glaciers of the southern hemisphere it would be impossible to send for replacement parts and additional fuel.

"I can stay monsieur," he said to Moore with his hand raised.

Heading to the cargo bay Maurice snatched up a newspaper to read when he required a break and hoped beyond hope that he didn't forget anything.

"I, erm, don't know what Detective Hansen has, which is, uh, why I'm going," Jack replies. "It's going to be, well, rather difficult to do anything but sail once the expedition actually begins."

He offers a wan smile. "In any case, he probably doesn't have anything for me--nothing you need to worry about. Not sure what I do about it even if he did--Lexington's already leagues ahead of us. Heh, look at me, talking like a old hand!"

For some reason, talking to Kitt brought out Jack's goofier side. He decides, though, that he'd better sober up fast, as it were. Besides, he just wasn't any damn good talking with women.

"I'd probably, um, better try calling my son, too. I'm sure he'll have better things to do than to talk to his unreliable old man, but it's worth a chance.

"You go have fun."

Not sure what to do next, Jack extends his hand for a handshake.

Kitt takes it and shakes it firmly and somewhat exaggerated. "You have a son? Really? Oh, I'm sorry, did you tell me before? I'm terribly forgetful with these sorts of matters. How old is he? Are you still married? Oh dear, now I'm sure you've told me all these things before. How dreadful of me to pry... And now you see why I make a good pilot. Machines tend not to get so offended as people."

Kitt pauses, trying to think back to any advice she had heard about these odd things called a ladies manners that she had heard so much about. Where she used to live, she had many years to establish her reputation and she had a good base of friends, all men, who she could fall back on. A wrong move now, with so many strangers, could turn this exciting trip into lonely monotony. Perhaps she should ask someone. She decided to ask Doctor Greene. Doctors had class and expected to be asked questions, didn't they?

"So..."

McRaven was seriously tempted by a the idea of a party before leaving. God knows they all needed to vent some steam after the past few days.
But he knew deep down that they were not out of the woods yet. So there he is, in his room arranging the last of his luggage and personal effects, looking at the dull metal of his revolver lying on top of ther mattress.

He cracks the gun open to look at the fully loaded chamber. McRaven is aware that this is the 3rd time he has done this so far and snaps the revolver shut again and shoves it into the deep pockets of his overcoat.

His mind is made up. He is going back to the ship and stand watch one last time before the ship leaves.

"Was married--twice, I'm afraid," Jack says, grimmacing. This was some painful, unpleasant stuff, and he didn't like talking about it generally. Specifically, too, this seemed like a bad time and like the wrong person to drop this on. But if anyone would understand, Jack thought, it might be Kitt. Not because she was a grizzled, down-and-out, over-the-hill wreck like he often felt but because she seemed to have as much trouble dealing with people at a personal level as he seemed to. And he found that ... charming. Yes, that was it.

"It was ... a while ago. I'm not the easiest person in the world to live with, and back then, well, I was drinking more then and quite bitter about the war and my life after it not going the way I wanted it to. My boy hardly talks to me, and I can't say as I blame him. I've been a pretty lousy father to him, and his mother--the first ex-wife--is not big fan of mine, not that I blame her either.

"Anyway, thank you for asking. You should go have fun. God knows there won't be much of that where we're going. I'm going to ... go out for a bit." Rather than shaking her hand again--what an idiot he was!--he lightly pats her on the shoulder.

"It's not safe to go out on your own, though," asks Kitt, worried. "I could go and get my gun. Watch from a distance? I could be like those people in detective novels. You won't even know that I'm there." She chuckles a little. "I read a lot of cheap detective novels... I guess that makes me more than a little bit silly. If you want to go alone, then you'll probably be okay."

"That's a swell offer, really," Jack says, genuinely touched. "I don't think things are all that dangerous. After all, Lexington has already sailed, and there's good reason to think that she was behind a lot of this. Well, there's Moore's old colleague, too, but we don't know anything about his whereabouts.

"But I get the hint. I'll just try to give Hansen a call, then I'll join you and whoever's going out this evening." Jack's mood has lightened considerably, though he can't quite shake the nagging feeling that he's not taking things as seriously as he should. Once they were underway, there wouldn't be much chance to do anything but--literally--go with the flow.

"I could follow Jack if you think he needs a bodyguard Ms. Kitt. I don't think that anyone in their right mind would attack two able men." Olof is not sure if Kitt was serious in her worry for the journalist or not.

Caught in his own social lie--and, more positively, seemingly embraced by the kind of friends he frankly hadn't had for ... well, for a very long time--Jack decides to slide back into the group celebration.

"Thanks, Olof," Jack says. "I think I'll just try calling the detective, then join whoever's left in a night out. Heaven knows we could use one, and there won't be such a chance later."

Kitt nods. "I think I'd better go. I'm going to need as long as I can get to learn how to work the infernal items that is make-up and feminine hair care." She smiles shyly at the two men and then walks off.

Detective Hanson is at the Headquarters when Jack calls, so he doesn’t have any problem getting to speak with him:

«Hi Jack, from what I can tell Miss Lexington’s people had a ‘friend’ in the Justice Deparment. We’ll never prove it, but it looks like she was responsible for your delay. I think Parker’s straight – just over keen on getting one last big bootlegging bust.»

«I’m not sure what this means for my murder investigation, I can’t believe that that Lexington woman would go so far as to kill someone, but I’d sure like to have a word with her when she gets back.»

«Maybe Starkweather wasn’t so nuts after all?»

"Even paranoids have real enemies, Hansen," Jack says thoughtfully. "In any case, I hope we can wait till she gets back to do something about her. Chances are the expedition'll run into her again.

"Anyway, thanks for your help. I'll make sure O'Meara gets his file back."

Richard Greene smiles, “Well guys, as it’s your last night in New York, I’d suggest the Cotton Club. The music’s always good there... and the drink.”

“What do you think Jack?”

"Not really my sort of place, but anyone who hasn't been there should probably see it, I suppose," Jack replies.

The Cotton Club seemed a little out of his league socially--although with the new elan he had as a member of the expedition, he might fit in there better than normal.

He had another reason for not being terribly keen on going. While Jack wasn't the most forward-looking when it came to race relations, he also didn't see a strong reason to discriminate based on color. If a guy treated him fairly, Jack didn't particularly care what his skin color was. He'd been on the wrong end of too much abuse from too many people not to sympathize with the fact that while Negroes got to perform there, they didn't get to go as customers, even though the place was in Harlem. He wasn't going to file a formal protest--those crusading days were behind him--but that didn't mean he had to endorse the place by handing over his money.

"I've never heard about the place. But then I have only lived in the States for a couple of years and spent most of my time working." Olof was not used to speakeasies. After all alcohol was a legal beverage in Europe, although it could be highly regulated.

Decrepit wrote: "Not really my sort of place, but anyone who hasn't been there should probably see it, I suppose," Jack replies.

"Hey, no problem Jack I like the music, but if it's not your thing maybe you could suggest somewhere else."

"It's a shame so many of the Theatres have had to close, I mean here we are right in the Theatre District and no shows to watch!"

52nd Street, Lower East Side
The Evening, Sunday 10th September 1933

The night out goes well, Greene knows a few smaller, ‘less classy’ jazz bars that have recently opened on 52nd street in the Lower East side, all within a block or so of each other.

“They might be more your thing if you don’t like the big clubs,” he says to Jack. “I never been there, but they say the music’s even better than at the Cotton Club, they just aren’t as well known yet.”

As it turns out, the 52nd street jazz bars have nowhere near the same level of racism as the mob run nightclubs of Harlem, so Jack can genuinely enjoy their atmosphere.

Kitt finds the handsome Richard Greene very receptive to both her gushing attention and her body language. She also receives the renewed attention of the ever confident barnstormer pilot Ralph Dewitt.

Radio operator Louis Laroche spends the evening brooding, he smoked his last cigarette a day before the original departure date; the nicotine withdrawal has affect the friendly Canadian’s mood severely.

Most of the science team elected to spend the evening on board the Gabreille but Samuel Winslow joins the partygoers, a seemingly bottomless well of knowledge on all things, the graduate student Glaciologist spends most of the evening discussing the merits of the Jazz bands with Richard Greene, Kitt and anyone else who happens by.

Olof enjoyed the night out. He had read articles about jazz music in Europe, but this is the first time he experiences this new "sound". The music is unlike anything he has heard before and he has to admit that he is enthralled with the whole thing. Perhaps he will buy some jazz records when they return from Antarctica.

The SS Gabrielle – Pier 74, Hudson River Docks, New York
The morning – Monday 11th September, 1933

At times it seemed that this day would never arrive, but finally on the evening of the 10th and the morning of the 11th of September 1933, the members of the Starkweather-Moore Expedition to the Antarctic finally found themselves walking up the SS Gabrielle’s gangplank luggage in hand, heading for their cabins.

Captain Henry Vredenburg greets each explorer as they arrive on board his ship, while First Officer Paul Turlow ensures that the Cabin Assignments are prominently displayed. He takes each explorer’s offered firearms to stow in the bowsun’s stores for the long voyage south. He does not check though anyone’s bags for contraband though.

Those cabins located in the midships area are ‘cosy, but cramped’ particularly those shared by three expedition members. Kitt fairs the best, with a cabin all to herself.

The cabins in the aftcastle are ‘a little to cosy’ for comfort, but at least the ship in clean and well maintained.

The ship'd boilers are already running in preparation for this afternoon's departure. After so many incidents and delays there is finally an air of excitment about both the expedition members and the crew, even James Starkweather is smiling again, his feud with Miss Lexington forgotten for now. Her two day head start will mean little on the two month voyage, especially when the ice pack is reached and a safe path must be found though.

CABIN ASSIGNMENTS - MIDSHIPS

Cabin 11: Cpt. J.Starkweather; Prof W.Moore

Cabin 12: Miss Kitt Knight

Cabin 13: Prof W.Griffith; Prof M.Bryce; Prof C.Myers

Cabin 14: Prof P.Albemarle; Prof C.Graves; James
Seymour

Cabin 15: Peter Sykes; Gunnar & Nils Sorensen

Cabin 16: Dr. R.Greene, Olof Eriksson ;
Jack Wilson

Cabin 17: Dougas Halperin; Ralph Dewitt; William
McRaven

Cabin 18: Isutag Amaruq; Callum McDonald;
Sean McPherson

CABIN ASSIGNMENTS - AFTCASTLE

Berth 4a: Gregor Pulaski, Erik Frodesen, Olav Sørensen

Berth 4b: Tamás Lopez, Hidalgo Cruz, Maurice Cole

Berth 4c: Charlie Porter, Timothy Cartier, Avery Giles, Douglas Orgelfinger

Berth 4d: Patrick Miles, Alan "Colt" Huston, Samuel Winslow

Hmm, Kitt thinks as she examines who is in what room while clutching her broad-brimmed hat to her head in the wind. Doctor Greene and Jack Wilson are in the same room. That'll make it easier with visiting.

As Jack heads to the ship, his head with a too-familiar throb, he thinks, Lord, I can't imagine we're actually going to leave.

The night before had gone well ... enough. For some reason, he found his eyes continually drawn to see what Dr. Greene and Kitt were up to. He'd credited Kitt with having a bit more sense than to swoon for a fellow like Greene, but, well, she was a woman, after all, and Greene was good-looking, smart, gregarious, monied--a heady mix, Jack had to admit. And the man had decent taste in musical establishments. No matter what was played, though, the notes came out scalding, aching, or at least they seemed so to Jack.

A scowl kept stealing over Jack's face despite his attempts to fight it off, and whenever he found himself feeling morose like that, he also found himself with a urge for a drink. Or a dozen. It looked to Jack like he wasn't the only one having a lousy time--for one, Laroche looked like hell--but, then again, but that just might have been the self-pity talking.

Snapping back to the present, Jack takes a look at the ship. He'd seen it before, of course, but now it was going to be home, and that was different. He'd seen the box he'd be packed into with Olof and--God help him--Greene, and it would be less than ideal. There were others that had it worse than him--always were, Jack told himself--but the funk held onto him.

He'd gotten his final instructions from Patterson, who was understandably anxious to have some good news to report. The Treasury story turned into a mini-crusade by the paper against the depradations of the Feds, but that story lacked much juice to begin with, and Patterson, with characteristic heavy handedness, had wrung it all out a couple days ago.

He'd written a couple more letters to his ex's, one more to his son, and sent them off. None of them would probably get read, making the writing of them a futile gesture--but sometimes gestures were all a man had to offer.

Let's get the hell out of here, Jack thinks, not bothering to take a backward glance.

"Hello Jack!" says Kitt as she sees him come up the gang plank, clutching her hat to her head and waving ecstatically with the other hand. "Do you have a camera on you? I want a photograph of me on this ship."

"Erm, yes, happy to oblige," Jack stammers out, surprised that someone's noticed him. He was so lost in his own thoughts that he'd assumed he was invisible.

"Um, stand over there ... no, there ... yes, that's fine." Jack takes a few shots. "This'll make a good one for the paper--'Adventuress Sets Out' or some such nonsense--assuming I didn't put my thumb on the lens."

"Oh, I trust in your skills," Kitt says, after posing obligingly by the railing. She normally loathed such posturing but it felt somewhat all right here. She supposed because she felt the whole thing a game so she could be a fair bit more girlish.

"Why so morose, Mr. Wilson," she says with an exaggerated nod, presuming that he wasn't at all morose and that it was all just a misunderstanding. "Who can feel down on such a wondrous day? I do hope someone remembered to pack playing cards. At the very least, I bought some this very morning. I do so love playing solitaire."

Jack's frown grew a little deeper. He held back a retort that formed in his mind about the lack of a need for solitaire with the good doctor around, but held his tongue.

"I suppose it is a decent day and all," he offers finally. "Never really thought it would happen--I mean, that we'd set sail and all. I guess it's just the dark cloud that seems to be hanging over us that's got me thinking." Seeing the trajectory of her mood descend with his, Jack abruptly switches tack. "But that should be behind us now, don't you thinK? There's the ice and cold to worry about, but we're as ready as we can be for that, and I do believe we have a good crew and shipmates.

"And I'm sure someone brought cards," he says, grinning a bit.

Olof is satisfied to share cabin with Jack and Dr. Greene. What he has seen of the doctor, he seems to be an agreeable fellow, but Olof suspects that Jack might not be so well disposed against the doctor. If things continue to evolve in a bad way, things can become a bit tense. Olof doesn't know what he would do if the situation would escalate. Perhaps he does not need to worry. There will probably be a lot of things to do during the voyage. If Starkweather is the kind of adventurer he seems to be, he will probably expect that his crew is well prepared for the perils which await them when they reach the southern continent.

As Olof unpacks he happens to spot an old photograph lying in a coat pocket. He hesitates and then pulls it out and stares at it for a while. It depicts a woman sitting under a tree reading a book by a river.

"Sophié" Olof whispers. He has not thought of her for a long time. His first great love, a French girl he once knew, a part of life he thought he had left behind him. The engineer puts the photo back into the coat pocket and continues unpacking.

Callum strides confidently up the gang plank. Its a beautiful morning and he feels like this is the beginning of a new chapter in his, almost too, adventurous career.

Scanning the cabin assignments, he is pleased to see he is sharing with Isugtag. He feel a sort of affinity with the huge Inuit, and though he keeps himself to himself, he should be a good room mate. It'll be good to get to know Sean as well. Haven't had time to talk to him much as yet.

He says his good mornings to crew members, and any of the expedition team that are present, and makes his way down to Cabin 18 to stow his equipment. When he is done, he heads to the Galley to see the most important man on board, the Chef. And get a nice strong coffee.....

McRaven sits in a corner of the galley nursing a coffee, he aches slightly from having stood another watch in case of further sabotage, but nothing had come of it. He simply could not shake the feeling lurking in the pit of his stomach since commander douglas had been killed, a cold writhing knot of anxiety that told him that this was an ill starred voyage.

James is quite excited at the prospect that they will actually now get to set sail. He is a little tired from doing his share of watching the warehouse etc but the tiredness seems to have been overuled by the excitement which he always seems to get when just about to set sail on a voyage.

James waits near the top of the gang plank watching people come aboard & helping with any luggage when necessary. He spots Kitt being photographed which was a suprise as she had seemed quite shy last time he had had any dealings with her but assumes she must be a little excited about the voyage too.

Maurice is abuzz with the prospect of leaving New York City. Bouncing, dancing and smiling more than he had since he left home all those months ago he absolutely couldn't wait to hear the crash of the ocean against the hull of the fast moving ship, the sqwak of playful seagulls and the farewell shouts of those jealous people left behind on the dock.

An adventure! Honest to God, as real and exciting as the one Columbus himself endured. Maurice couldn't wait. Be it untold riches or a voyage off the end of the world it was taking him away from the stink of the habour and on to the biggest, most wonderful moment of his young life.

Wearing his favourite Panama hat, smoking a large cigar, Professor Graves strolls up the gang plank. "Good day all," he says cheerfully. Seeing Kitt posing for the camera he doffs his hat and with a beaming smile says "prettier than the fashion models of Paris."

SS Gabrielle – Hudson River, New York.
2:00pm – Monday 11th September 1933

At exactly two o’clock in the afternoon of Monday 11th September the Starkweather-Moore Expedition to the Antarctic finally gets underway. The SS Gabrielle signals it’s farewell loudly to the stevedores, reporters and relatives lining Pier 74 as it pulls slowly away from the docks. Guided at first by tugs belonging to the port authority, she is towed past the glittering new skyscrapers of downtown. A collection of small boats follow the steamer along the Hudson, as despite the mishaps that have marred their preparations, both the public and the press of New York are keen to get a glimpse of the expedition before they leave.

By the time she signals a salute as she passes the Statue of Liberty the Gabrielle is moving under her own steam, her reciprocating steam engine pushing her up to an eleven knot cruising speed as she turns south along the Eastern Seaboard. The sky is covered with high thin clouds and the sea is a little choppy, but the Gabrielle is a large ship, so such seas are not enough to cause her passengers discomfort as they line her sides watching the great city of New York shrink into the distance.

4:00pm:

An hour or so later James Starkweather and Professor Moore gather the entire expedition into the very crowded crew mess, Starkweather produces some bottles of champagne and soon the corks are flying and the champagne flowing as most of the jubilant team put the mishaps of the previous weeks behind them. New York is behind them, the icy continent of Antarctica ahead, in a few short weeks they will stand where only a handful of men have ever stood before.

Olof is happy that they finally are underway. Hopefully all the past troubles are behind them. "Antarctica here we come!" Olof says to himself.

Kitt tries to watch how much she drinks but she's used to beer and not champagne and quite quickly becomes giggly drunk. She leans in towards Jack and starts babbling excitedly about a dozen different matters, sliding from topic to topic with mad abandon before suddenly deciding that Jack wasn't interested at all in what she had to say and slinking off.

Well, that was ... odd,, Jack thinks. He didn't mean to brush Kitt off, but he really had never known very well how to react to someone drunker than he was, especially a young girl like her. Whatever you ended up saying to someone as gone as she seemed to be would come back to bite you. You said something nice, it'd come out flirty and lecherous. You said something profound, she'd forget it. Oh, but if you said something halfway curt, she'd never forget that.

The bubbly was never Jack's thing anyway, and he's already annoyed one person. He decides to go make himself known to the radio operator. They'd have to become fairly good friends over the next months. Jack wasn't a pro, but he did know something about radio operating, and he hoped that some shop talk would help him make nice.

After watching New York disappear in the distance, Sean unloads his things into his room.

Later joining the party in the crew mess, he finally feels a bit of adrenaline and relief that this whole thing finally got underway. Watching New York disappear into the distance was beautiful both in appearance and what it meant, an escape from the troubles of the time.

Sean raises his glass to any around him.

"To a safe and exciting journey!"

"Here here!" says Callum. He knocks back the last of his champagne, and reaches for another glass.

"Are we there yet?" he jokes to Professor Moore.

Olof laughs at Callum's joke. "Well, seriously, when are we estimated to arrive at our cold destination? I seem to have forgot what you said during your briefing." The engineer wonders if Starkweather will try to speed up the voyage so that the ship can catch up with the Lexington expedition.

McRaven sits nursing his champagne with some of the other pilots. Out the corner of his eye, he notices Kitt get more and more drunk. He sits in amazement as she seems to come on the grizzled reporter, who seems non-plussed and hesitant.

Then just like a pocket of turbulence can drop a plane, she drops the reporter and staggers out.

"That broad is way too flakey" Says Mcraven to the other pilots assembled "I hope she gets it together when we get there"

James, finding Callums sense of humor refreshing after the last few tense days, is pleased everyone apears to be getting into the swing of things "I am sure Kitt will be less flakey once she sobers up a little" "I hope" he adds smiling

Both arms against the guard rail, Isugtag watched the silouhette of New York city slowly go by. His lit pipe in the corner of his mouth, the big Inuit simply gazed at the vanishing senery. For many abord the ship, leaving the urban center for some frozen wasteland was both exciting and worrying. For Isugtag, it was comforthing. Big cities were simply too... alien to him. He felt uncomfortable in them. They were too impredictable. The past few weeks he had spent in New York had drained him to the core... that and the nightmares hadn't help at all. The fact they had simply came and gone, without any reason he couldn't think of, simply made him even more uneasy.

True to his nature, Isugtag had kept mostly to himself the whole time. He had helped with cargo, and had attented every meeting as he had been required. But beside that, he had crawled into his own little bubble of silence, satisfied in simply watching his surroundings from afar.

Around him, everyone buzzed with excitement about the journey. The South Pole! The last untamed land. The only place man had yet to conquer. Grey Wolf was slowly starting to wonder if embarking on this trip was truly a good choice. It wasn't so much all the strange events surrounding their departure that had him worried. It wasn't Lawrence's ravings, or Douglas' death. It was what he had seen in his mind's eye. The mountains. That feeling. Something was waiting for them.

Straigthening back up, Isugtag tapped his pipe, upside down, agaisnt the railing, watching the ashes tumble down into the dark waters.

"On a more serious note Professor Moore, I think would be wise to continue to be security conscious. We should restrict access to vital parts of the ship. I'm sure that the expedition members are quite trustworthy, but the ships crew are, as yet, unknown to us, and any one of them could be a saboteur.."

SS Gabrielle – Radio Room


While most of the rest of the expedition continue the celebration in the mess, Jack heads up to the Radio room, where he finds Louis Laroche, the SS Gabrielle’s radioman Robert Macllvaine, and the Bosun Roger Blunt

Louis looks a little less grumpy now that the voyage is underway, he looks up as Jack enters, “Hello Jack, I’m just taking a look at the equipment. I won’t get my hands on our radios for two months so I thought I’d spend some time with Robert here.”


Robert Macllvaine working the SS Gabrielle’s radio equipment.

Meanwhile, back in the mess...

Moore nods in agreement with Callum, “You are probably right, but you must remember that we are guests on this ship, and so must allow the Captain and his officers to make such decisions.”

“The engine room is off limits to the expedition team, and to some of the crew; while the cargo holds are now mostly sealed and shouldn’t need accessing except by the dog handlers and suchlike until we reach the ice.”

***********

Ralph Dewitt agrees with James, “I’m sure Kitt’ll be fine she seems a good pilot, can’t see what she sees in Jack though.”

Ralph has had a soft spot for Kitt since the trip to test the aeroplanes, and has obviously started to become a little jealous of both Jack and Richard Greene.

***********

Chatting to others in the team, particularly the experienced Peter Sykes, Olof learns that the Gabrielle can't travel much faster than it's 11 knot cruising speed anyway, the same speed as Acacia's ship the SS Tallahassee. So they are unlikely to make up the distance before the pack-ice is reached.

Once the ice is reached though, it will require luck as well as good judgement by the captains to plot a course through, so the two day head start hopefully won't make any difference.

"I'm a bit of a radio man myself," Jack says, "though, of course, nowhere near as skilled as you gents. It's mostly just been a hobby with me, and one I don't get an awful lot of practice with."

He grins a little. "Oh, don't worry about me. No story to transmit yet--though those'll come soon enough. I mainly, um, just wanted to get away from the crowd, y'know? Never really good at parties."

"It is a shame that this has become a race of sorts. The scientific part is easily forgotten in these ventures. They become a symbol of national pride instead or in this case, personal pride. Who knows if we need assistance on the ice, the Lexington expedition is the only nearby help we can get. It's a shame that we're alienating them." Olof sips on his champagne.

Robert Macllvaine talking to Jack in the radio room:

Macllvaine shakes Jack’s hand, “Hey any help or advice you can give will be well received. Where we’re going the more people know how to work the radios, the better.”

“I’ll be transmitting your stories for you while you’re on the Gabrielle, then Louis will do it once you reach the Antarctic. The messages will still be relayed via the Gabrielle though.”

“We’re transmitting to the Kingsport Head Radio Station; they’ll pass your stories onto your newspaper. Mr Starkweather and Professor Moore will be making regular ‘radio broadcasts to the world’ I hear Mr Starkweather is very excited about it. They’ll only be every few days though, and not as in depth as your wires.”

“More like ‘well here we are in the Pacific, and it’s very windy!’”

“Unless there’s an emergency, you should be able to use the radio room any time your leaders aren’t broadcasting. Do you know morse? I don’t mind you sending your own stories if you do.”


************

Peter Sykes talking to Olof, in the Mess:

Sykes looks thoughtful, then says, “I’m sure our illustrious leaders will put aside their petty differences in an emergency. It’s all very well playing games while we’re safe in New York, but people’s lives are at stake of the ice. There's no harm in a friendly race though.”

“I’ve spent a lot of time on whaling ships, the rivalries between captains can be pretty fierce, as you can probably imagine. But in a crisis everybody pulls together, I’m sure it’ll be the same here. Besides Starkweather has a reputation for being a good man in a crisis.”


Sykes laughs, “Of course that’s assuming that our Miss Lexington had nothing to do with Commander Douglas’ murder, if she did then all bets are off I suppose.”

Olof does not comment Sykes last joke. The thought of Miss Lexington murdering the commander seems ridiculous, but when Olof ponders the thought it seems at least plausible. There is motive and since it probably was Lexington who tipped the Treasury Department. Who can say what she's capable of? And then there's the matter of the mysterious death of her father... Olof suddenly gets a feeling of dread and excuses himself to Sykes and gets out on deck to get some fresh air.