The ice shattered under his pick’s strike, sending ice shrapnel flying which mixed with more ice flying from the other’s strikes into the pack ice. The freezing cold wrapped its fingers all around Mathew and his team despite their jacket and boots. Its presence familiar yet uncomfortable all the same.

Above them all stood the colossal black form of the Kerru-Bānû standing tall over them. The massive icebreaker creaked as it stood over the ice sheet. Its name was printed on its side in two-meter-high white lettering that shone slightly in the bright arctic sun.

Mathew slammed his pick into the ice once again, following his fellow workman’s strike, the two boring a hole into the ice with their regular rhythm.

“That’s enough!” he called, calling for his comrade and the other teams to stop, “Put the charges in now and tie em together!”

One of each of the crews threw their pick down, fumbling in pouches to bring out a stick of dynamite, before ramming it into their holes. Specialist Smith followed this action up quickly, the thin dark dark-haired man running up with the detonation cords like clockwork for them all to be wound to the sticks.

They all knew the drill at this point so at least the work was quick, with it only taking two minutes for all of the cords to be tied with their detonators to the sticks. He breathed in, taking his whistle out and letting its shrill scream echo around the icy plains.

An orderly line of workers made their way to the rope ladder hung over the ship, one by one making their way up it until it was Smith and Matthew’s job to climb up, a spool and cord hung by Smith’s belt.

Once they were up two deckhands started to pull the ladder up, Smith not waiting for their work to finish before connecting up the cord to the blasting machine.

“Ready boss?”

“Ready.”

The plunger was forced down.

An ear-splitting explosion rocked the landscape, ice spraying up into the air as holes were blasted into it, cracks echoing along its surface.

Before he’d even recovered, the familiar sound of the Kerru-Bānû’s horn blasted. And with that, the mighty engines of the ship started to turn, the last vestiges of the ice in front of them cracking as the ship pushed itself further onto it, breaking it with its own sheer weight.

It was a regular operation at this point, and everyone knew it well. The ice that they were cutting through was far thicker than they were anticipating so Mathew Walsham and his team had been called into action to soften up harder clumps of pack ice to allow the ship to break them apart.

“Tobacco boss?”

He turned to see Smith’s gaunt face staring back at him, holding his tobacco pouch out.

He nodded, responding gruffly with a simple “Thanks,” and taking a pinch of the stuff, placing it into his pipe. Smith following up with a match, lighting both his pipe and Mathew’s.

In. Then out. Relax.

“Smith, I wish I could blow smoke out like this ship could.”

His second chuckled, gazing up at the billowing black clouds of smoke rolling out of the ship’s three stacks. “I think if you could smoke like that boss you’d choke.”

“And what a glorious way to die it would be…”

“Eh, I’d think those doctors would try to cut yer up to see how you could do it. So that ain’t a death suited for me.” Smith muttered, taking a puff of his pipe.

Mathew sniffed, leaning on the port side railing, “Better than looking out on this depressing wasteland…”

Out there was nothing but endless fields of ice under a blazing sun and spotted clouds. The only other things out there than the Kerru-Bānû being its smoke and the HMS Black Diadem, the first-class ironclad cruiser trailing behind the icebreaker. Its sails were folded up with its two, much smaller smoke stacks, blazing out its own black clouds.

“It's not that bad boss, it's only another month I think you said it was?”

“That’s the plan Mr Smith, though we are drawing the point where we will need to know if we need to winter or not.”

Smith took another puff from his pipe, “Let’s not think about that boss. We’re aboard the biggest and fastest icebreaker in the world, and we make constant trips to Winterhome Bay. We’ll make it”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“And that is less than half the distance of this supposed passage if it even exists.”

They fell silent, the two of them smoking their pipes as they watched the icebreaker slowly crack its way west, with land nowhere in sight as they looked south.

“All men, prepare to receive the admiral! Everyone smart!”

Mathew felt himself cringe as the bell rang, his hands growing tight as he tapped the tobacco out into the icy depths.

“Boss, why the hell is the admiral coming!? We’re not clear of the ice and I wouldn’t wanna get in a row-boat in these conditions.”

“And that is why, Mr Smith, I have doubts about us reaching our destination… Now where’s my bloody cap.”

----------------------------------------

It didn’t take long for everyone to get assembled together on the deck as the boat was lifted up, all the North Star Cutters officers aboard ready to meet their Royal Navy counterparts.

And low and behold, there were three of them in full dress uniform. Navy blue coats with golden buttons and epaulettes, bicorn hats perched on their heads with everything so tight it looked like it could make one suffocate if they wore it for too long.

Accompanying them were six marines in similar navy-blue coats, but with white webbing wrapped over it and a brimmed hat with red ribbons on their heads, inscribed with the name of their branch. Rifles slung over their shoulders. However, unlike the officers, they did have the mercy of being allowed woollen caps that covered their ears under their hats.

The ship’s captain stood to attention, his grizzled stubble-covered face trying to look as proper as possible, “Welcome aboard Admiral Ellsworth Greerson, Captain Kirk Lewis, Commander Hershel Whitlock. Welcome all sirs to the Kerru-Bānû.”

The officers stepped off of the boat, foremost of all of them being Admiral Greerson. He was a fat, raven-haired older man, who stood tall and proud, seemingly able to ignore the freezing temperatures around him as he smiled. However, that may have been due to his mutton chops which were even thicker than Mathew’s.

Behind him was Captain Kirk Lewis, his second. A handsome man with wavy brown hair, a veteran of the northern seas, and the most aristocratic man you could find in this desolate area of the world.

Finally, Commander Hershel, the second of the captain of the Black Diadem. A sour-faced man with sickly skin and blond hair.

“Good afternoon captain Janson! And what a mighty fine day it is to see your ship make its namesake proud. I’m sure our hero of yore would be happy to see his ship protecting its crew and mine like he did his family in that cold cave.”

The captain nodded, putting on a slight smile for the admiral, “Indeed, I feel like he would.”

“Well then, let us move inside and out of this cold with your officers then and we’ll get the discussions underway then?”

----------------------------------------

It wasn’t long until they had settled themselves down into the ship’s conference room. A wooden panelled room in the ship’s superstructure with a large mahogany desk inlaid with the company logo. A four-pointed star standing over a cutter.

The array of fine biscuits and tea however were proving to be too rich for Mathew’s tastes however.

“Lieutenant Walsham.”

Mathew looked up, meeting the gaze of the admiral, his body nearly standing to attention at his last name being called, “Yes Admiral?”

“I must congratulate you on your team’s work to clear the pack in front of us on this voyage. Without you and this ship, we would have had to go around this field and it may have taken us weeks to do so.”

“Uh- Thank you sir.”

“So, lieutenant,” he continued, “Can you give us an update on the thickness of the ice in front of us?”

Mathew nodded, “So far, while there seems to be no end in sight of the pack ice currently, the thickness is remaining fairly consistent at around a meter, apart from some thicker areas. Then we need to clear it with the dynamite sir like earlier.”

Greerson slowly nodded his head, “Good, good. See Lewis, our technological advancement over Brice’s expedition is making a mockery of the elements. We have nothing to fear from this thin ice!”

“Well sir,” Replied his second, every syllable from his mouth as clear as crystal, “Beforehand we had no way of telling how thick the ice was, and we don’t have much of an idea of when it will end still. Sir. I simply suggested at the time-“

“Yes, yes, I know. We would have the coal to make it around this pack by going along the coast I know. However, time is of the essence here, and so far, our rather remarkable vessels have made it through with little trouble other than the occasional short stop.”

“And there may also be another, thicker pack blocking our path down south after we pass through this one sir.”

He scoffed, waving his hand, “There’s a low chance of that and anyway, we have the Kerru-Bānû and her crew here who, I am sure, could cut through it.”

The admiral turned, his gaze turning to the assembled North Star officers.

“If, the ice ahead is like the ice we were cutting through right now, we should be able to make it through sir.” Said Captain Janson, his words coming out of his mouth like they were stepping through a bog.

“Well, that’s capital then! And with that, we can conclude that we will be continuing our present course. So, also as planned, we will be staying for dinner on your excellent vessel and I’ve heard that you still have some of the Ox tongue cans. Am I right?”

Janson coughed, “About that sir, it's very generous of the admiralty to supply us with rations, but the cans… They seem to be of an older type-”

“They’re still in date captain, I can assure you of that. They also discontinued the mutton liver pâté with the new supplier which, I feel, is a shame. So I have been sure to stock a few for myself if you wish to requisition one?”

“No, thanks, sir.”

“A pity, it’s rather rare to see someone who appreciates it- My, it's rather dark outside wouldn’t you say?

Mathew whipped his head around and-

It was dark outside, with the stars twinkling outside while it was light only half an hour ago…

“Dawn seems to have come half an hour early then…” The admiral muttered.

“And that isn’t quite normal…”

A pounding came from the door, and everyone looked between each other.

“Come in!” Called Jason.

A watchman opened the door, panting lightly as they fixed everyone in their room with their gaze, “Sir! We’ve spotted some lights out on the pack! The lieutenant commander is asking for you!”