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“A few picks and shovels, and a crowbar or two,” Hall said, gazing at the outline.

After two hours of the team’s chipping away at the ice, one of the crewmen gave a cry. Sam and Remi hurried to his position.

Sam knelt down and examined the brown material, then stood and considered the outline again. “It’s wood.”

“I can see that. Question is why it registered on your scope.”

“Because there’s more than wood down there. Has to be iron, and a variety of other metals.”

Remi held his gaze. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” she asked.

“I don’t want to get too excited or jump to any conclusions just yet.” Sam turned to the men, who had stopped gouging at the ice. “Be careful. Dig on the outside of the wood. You can see the line where it disappears into the ice. Stay on the far side of it.”

More seamen arrived at Willbanks’s urging, and soon they were hacking at the frost with whatever they could find—shovels, picks, pry bars, hammers. By the end of the afternoon, much of the buried structure was exposed, and there was no question about what it was.

“A Viking ship,” Remi said, her voice laced with awe.

Sam nodded. “Indeed. The first ever discovered on Baffin. There’ve been some finds in Greenland, but never here. This is exciting. It’s in perfect condition. The ice preserved everything.”

“What’s this? Can you make it out?” she called to him from the middle of the long craft.

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked as he joined her. Remi was squinting into the ice at the interior of the vessel.

“I see something.”

Sam cupped a hand over his eyes and peered into the gloom, then shook his head. “The light’s fading. I can’t tell.” He called over his shoulder, “Anyone got a flashlight?”

Two minutes later, Willbanks arrived with a long black-aluminum light and snapped it on before handing it to Sam.

“Thanks,” Sam said, and directed the beam into the ice, which was opaque in places. The light seemed to disappear as it penetrated the milky parts, and then it shined across the object of Remi’s attention. Remi jumped back. Sam continued gazing into the ice.

A man’s sightless blue eyes stared into eternity from within his frozen prison, a puzzled, peaceful expression on his face, as he clutched the remnants of a torn sail, his scraggly blond beard plainly visible even with a heavy animal-skin cloak draped over him in a futile, centuries-old bid to stave off the inevitable.

Sam and Remi sat in the pilothouse with Hall and Willbanks after dinner, watching the night shift continue its work on the Viking craft, struggling to reclaim the thousand-year-old ship from nature’s cold embrace. Powerful portable work lights illuminated the area, and the Alhambra’s main spotlight was directed at the stern of the ancient vessel as it emerged in fits and starts.

“This is an amazing find. I mean, really. An authentic Viking longship in flawless condition, with its crew perfectly preserved. I’ve never heard of anything remotely like it,” Remi said, voicing what was on everyone’s minds.

“It is indeed. The research value alone is immeasurable,” Sam added.

Hall asked, “What do you count? Ten in the boat so far? A ship like that would carry, what, eighty, ninety men?”

“No way of knowing for sure, but if I had to guess, I’d say the boat took shelter here, maybe from the weather. Perhaps the rest of the men went to find an alternative passage back to the sea or went foraging. We might get some answers as we uncover more of the ship.”

Remi shuddered involuntarily. “Imagine what it must have been like for these last survivors. Starving to death, freezing, knowing they’d never see their homeland or family again, dying in a wasteland . . .”

“The only good thing is that hypothermia is painless,” Hall said. “You just drift off and at some point your heart stops pumping blood to your brain. So at least it’s unlikely they suffered in the end.”

“Still, it’s creepy, you have to admit. That one . . . the way he’s just staring into nothingness.”

The table went silent as they considered Remi’s comment, and then Sam stood.

“With any luck, we should be able to have the entire boat excavated enough to do a more thorough inspection by the end of the day tomorrow. I don’t know about you guys but I’m beat. It’s been a while since I spent the day on a chain gang.”

Remi rose with a smile. “I’ll second that. Gentlemen, thanks so much for committing the crew to doing this. I know it’s not part of the expedition objective.”

“Are you kidding?” Hall said. “This is part of history. Although you bring up an important point—one I’ve been thinking about. We’ll need to move on, sooner than later, and complete the mapping of the fjords and the glacier analysis. Unfortunately, we’re on a schedule. While there’s some flexibility in it, the Alhambra’s earmarked for other duty after this tour and I’ve got to at least try to stay on track.”

Sam nodded. “No question the analysis is important. Let me put my thinking cap on and see if I can come up with a solution. I hate to just leave this to the elements while we wait for someone to get up here and take over the find. You radioed it in, right?”


Tags: Clive Cussler Fargo Adventures Thriller