Ada Blackjack: Stranded in the Arctic | Marooned | 2
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Captain Joe Bernard sprints down the starboard side of the 100-foot schooner, the teddy bear. His wire-rimmed glasses jiggle on his nose with each step. The frigid air burns his lungs. The ship is at a standstill 50 miles from the nearest shore. It's early September 1922, and the Arctic Ocean is already freezing over.

Ice surrounds the schooner on all sides. And seconds ago, Bernard heard an awful screeching sound. Ice on metal. He's running towards the sound to assess the damage. Bernard has been hired to sail from Nome, Alaska to the remote Wrangell Island, where a small group of explorers are awaiting supplies

Bernard knows this could be a life or death mission for the men on Wrangell. They'll need food, ammo, and other supplies the teddy bear is carrying to survive the long Arctic winter ahead. For days, Bernard and his crew have been trying to find a way through the ice pack with little to show for it. He's never seen this much ice so early in the season.

Bernard reaches the stern of the boat, where a cluster of crew members are gathered, looking over the back.

The first mate turns and greets Bernard with a grimace. Sounded like the propeller. Bernard nods. If the propeller is damaged, the ship won't be able to generate enough power to push through the ice. They'll be stranded, unable to do anything but drift as more and more ice forms, locking them in place. But Bernard refuses to expect the worst. We won't know until we have a look.

The crew members quickly rig up ropes. Bernard and the first mate heave themselves over the side of the ship, using the ropes to climb down to the ice below. Kneeling on an ice floe, the two men peer at the propeller. Its blades are bent and twisted, crushed by the pressure of the ice. It looks bad, but not as bad as Bernard feared.

He turns to the first mate. We can fix this. Yes, then let's head home. We can't give up just yet. Those men on Wrangel are counting on us. Captain, look around. It's nothing but solid ice. We'll never make it. Bernard bites his lip. He knows his first mate is right. The ice is solid. There's no path through. The longer they keep pushing forward, the less chance they'll be able to sail back.

Bernard doesn't feel right abandoning the explorers on Wrangel, but he also doesn't want to endanger the lives of his crew. He nods reluctantly to the First Mate. "Fine. We fix the propeller and return to Gnome." The First Mate lets out a sigh of relief. Bernard grabs hold of the rope and hauls himself up the side of the ship, a pit of guilt in his stomach.

He hopes the men on Wrangell have enough rations to get through the winter. Because now, with the Arctic Ocean frozen over, it'll be at least nine months before another ship can reach them.

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Progressive Casualty Insurance Company & Affiliates. Comparison rates not available in all states or situations. Prices vary based on how you buy. From Wondery, I'm Cassie DePeckel, and this is Against the Odds. In September 1921, four men set out on a two-year expedition to Wrangell Island, high above the Arctic Circle. With them was a 23-year-old Inuit woman named Ada Blackjack.

who they hired to cook and sew. Blackjack had never undertaken anything like this. She had been raised in a missionary school and never spent any time in the wilderness. She took the job for one reason. She needed to raise money for her son, Bennett, who she left behind in an orphanage, sick with tuberculosis.

The man who funded and organized the expedition promised that he would send a relief ship the following summer. But as he scrambled to find funding for the supply ship, the summer came and went. By September, when the ship finally left for Wrangell, the sea was already frozen over and the ship's captain was forced to turn back. Now, as they prepare to spend a second winter on Wrangell Island, Blackjack and the men

were running low on food. And soon, they would be forced to make an impossible decision in a desperate attempt to survive. This is episode two, Marooned. Expedition leader Lorne Knight reaches for a lantern mounted on top of a flagpole near their camp on Wrangell Island.

A British flag flaps against his face. Its colors are faded and the edges are fraying, reminding Knight that it's been a year since they raised it. It's mid-September 1922, and sleet falls from the sky. Another Arctic winter is about to begin. Knight grabs the lantern and blows out the flame.

He mounted it on the pole at the end of August, when the sky started to get dark earlier. It was meant to serve as a beacon for the supply ship, but now the ocean around them is nothing but ice. There's no chance a ship could get through. Knight trudges back to camp. His right hip throbs in pain, but he ignores it.

He's been ignoring a lot of pain recently. His head swims. It still doesn't completely feel real that no more food is arriving, no more ammo, no new tents, no fresh sled dogs, no letters from their families. Knight steps back inside their main tent and finds Alan Crawford and Milton Gale running the backs of their knives over seal skins, scraping off the last bits of flesh.

Crawford looks up from his seal skin. Crawford nods, looking overwhelmed.

Knight thinks about Wilhelmer Stephenson, the man who organized this expedition, and feels a flash of rage. Stephenson sent them off with lots of instructions. They were supposed to raise the British flag, take notes on the weather, study the geology, scout the island as the potential site for a fur trapping company. They had done all of that and more, but Stephenson hadn't done the one thing he'd promised.

Send them a supply ship. But there's no time for anger or self-pity. Stephenson always told Knight that problems on Arctic expeditions were really opportunities. This is Knight's chance to demonstrate that smart hunting, trapping, and foraging can provide all that a person needs to survive here. Knight's going to make sure he doesn't fail Stephenson or the people under his command.

They can survive another winter on Wrangell Island. They just have to be smart. Ada Blackjack struggles to push her needle through the seam of a foxskin mitten. But as she's sewing, the line of stitches swims in front of her eyes. She's sitting in her tent at the new camp, over two miles from their old one. After two months of tediously moving all of their belongings by sled, they're finally settled in.

They've rebuilt the wooden frame of their winter house and pitched their two tents inside. The men sleep in the main tent, and Blackjack sleeps and cooks in the smaller one. When it's finished, the winter house will function like a wood-framed igloo, with walls of snow to provide insulation. But it's not finished, and Blackjack is fighting to keep warm.

The wind blows, rippling the thin canvas walls of her tent. The icy chill cuts through the cloth. Blackjack pushes the needle through the mitten and pricks her finger hard. She yelps in pain as blood seeps through her glove. But she doesn't have time to tend to her finger or wait for her dizzy spell to pass. She has to finish these mittens.

No one's told her directly, but she's overheard the conversations. Lauren Knight and Alan Crawford are leaving. They'll walk 100 miles across the frozen Chukchi Sea to Siberia. Then they'll follow the Siberian coast east to the Bering Strait, then across the ice to Alaska. It's risky to travel across the ice, but food is so scarce that they don't have any other choice.

For Knight and Crawford, a cold journey lies ahead. It's Blackjack's job to make the winter clothes that will keep them warm and alive. Outside, one of the men lets out an anguished groan. Blackjack tosses her work aside and hurries out of the tent. Knight is doubled over, his arms wrapped around his stomach. Blackjack rushes over to him. "Are you all right?" "I'm fine."

Just a bit of indigestion. Blackjack sees Knight's rifle lying on the ground next to him. She hates guns, hates how loud they are, but she wants to help. So she moves to pick it up and carry it inside. "Leave the gun alone!" Blackjack steps back, unsure of what to do. Knight stands motionless, grimacing in agony. "Can I help you into the tent?"

I told you, I'm fine. Get back to work. Blackjack warily returns to her tent. She hasn't heard the others say that anything is wrong with Knight, but she can't help but worry. Knight has been snapping at everyone and complaining of a sore back. He seems weak and has low energy. He needs to be at his best if he and Crawford stand any chance of making it to Alaska to get help.

Alan Crawford tugs hard on a strap on the dog sled, making sure it's secure. It's after midnight on January 6th, 1923.

Above him, the sky is blanketed with stars. The sled sits just outside the supply tents, stacked high with everything Crawford and Knight will need for their journey. They estimate it will take them 60 to 70 days to get to Nome, Alaska, but they have only enough food for 30. Knight arrives with their five remaining sled dogs. Crawford still mourns the two dogs they lost earlier,

As they work to hitch the dogs to the sled, it's hard not to notice how scrawny they are. Their ribs are visible even through their thick fur. Crawford gulps, his mouth suddenly dry. In a few moments, he and Knight will head out into the dark, crossing the frozen ocean. At this time of year, it's dark 24 hours a day. The sun won't return to the Arctic sky for another two weeks.

It will be hard to see where they're going, but they need to make the trek now while the sea ice is at its thickest. He imagines the ice cracking beneath them and plunging into the frigid sea.

Crawford's never walked across sea ice before, but he understands how dangerous it can be. The ice won't be solid all the way across. And with snow piled on top, it can be hard to spot the weak points. If they fall in the water, they could be trapped under the ice and drown.

But the alternative isn't much better. There's not enough food for all five of them to make it through the winter. They have to take action or they'll all starve. Knight gets the last dog in the harness and approaches Crawford. You all set? Written your letters? Crawford nods. He spent the afternoon writing two letters, one to his family and one to Wilhelmer Stephenson.

just in case he and Knight don't make it. Yes, I gave them to Maurer. It's just a precaution. Most likely you'll be telegramming your family from Nome in just a couple of months. I know. I'm not worried. He hopes he sounds convincing. Knight slogs to the main tent and yells inside that they're headed off. The other three members of the group emerge. Milton Gale strides up to Crawford and grabs his shoulders. Godspeed. Safe travels.

Crawford nods his appreciation. Fred Moorer doesn't say a word, just shakes Crawford's hand firmly. Ada Blackjack smiles at Crawford, shyly. He nods at her and smiles back. It doesn't feel real that he won't see them for months. They're the only people he's seen in over a year. He can imitate Gale's boyish laugh. He can predict to the second exactly when Moorer will burp after a meal.

He knows the disgusted face Ada makes when she eats Polar Bear. How can he be leaving them? Knight finishes saying his goodbyes and reminds Mora that he's now in charge. Then he and Crawford climb onto the sled. Knight takes the reins and yells out to the dogs. "Hike!" The dogs howl and march forward. The sled moves smoothly over the ice. The wind hits Crawford's face.

He turns back for one last look at his teammates, but they're already out of sight, lost in the darkness. Ada Blackjack works on a pair of moccasins for her son Bennett in the main tent. Since Crawford and Knight left, she has more time for projects like this. She focuses intently on each stitch, ignoring the gnawing pain in her stomach.

Vic the cat cleans herself at Blackjack's feet. Behind her, Milton Gale types away loudly. She doesn't know what he's writing, but he works on it every day and doesn't let anyone else touch his precious typewriter. Frederick Moorer is out checking the traps, but Blackjack doubts he'll find anything in them. They haven't caught a fox in the two weeks since Crawford and Knight left for Alaska.

In fact, they hadn't seen any game at all. Gail stops typing and pivots in his chair. I bet they're almost at the Siberian shore by now. He smiles at the thought, and Blackjack smiles back. She knows Siberia is still a long way from Alaska, but she pictures Knight and Crawford back safely in her hometown of Nome.

She wonders if one of her sisters will meet them and give them a letter to bring back to her, letting her know how Bennett is. The tent flap opens and Moorer stomps in, grinning broadly. He holds a fox out in front of him. Look what was in the trap! Gale and Blackjack whoop with glee.

Blackjack runs over and takes the fox, then gets straight to work skinning and gutting it. Her mouth waters, thinking about how delicious it will taste. And she feels the slightest ray of hope. Maybe everything will be okay. And in just a few months, she'll be home with her son again. The next morning, Blackjack melts snow on the wood-burning stove for drinking water. Gail and Moorer are still asleep.

She hears dogs barking and freezes, confused. Then it hits her. A rescue crew. She rushes to the entrance of her tent. It's a miracle. Knight and Crawford must have made record time. She hurries out of the winter house to greet the rescuers. But as soon as she's through the doorway, she stops short. There's no rescue crew in sight. Just Knight and Crawford.

The two men stumble toward her, limping heavily. Their faces are blistered from the cold. Morn and Gail charge out of their tent. Mora rushes to help Knight inside. What happened? The dogs were too weak. We only got about 15 miles before we had to turn back. We just couldn't make it over the rough ice. Blackjack stares at the men, panicking.

All of the optimism she felt less than a day ago feels like a dream. She wonders if she'll ever see Bennett again, or if she's going to starve to death on this remote island trapped by the Arctic sea ice hundreds of miles from home.

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Head over to Symbiotica.com and use code ODDS for 20% off and free shipping on your subscription order. Ada Blackjack sits and listens to the men of the Wrangell Island Expedition argue about what to do next. It's been three days since Alan Crawford and Lord Knight returned to camp. Crawford's energy has almost fully returned, but Knight is still noticeably weak.

He's slumped in a chair next to Blackjack, his eyes pinched in pain. Blackjack holds Vic the cat in her lap, stroking her head. It helps keep her calm as she listens to the men argue. They can't seem to agree on what to do next, which is making her anxious. Finally, Crawford claps his hands together to quiet the other men down.

Listen, Knight and I have been conferring and we've decided on our course of action. Myself, Gale, and Moorer will make the journey to get help. Knight and Blackjack, you will remain here. Blackjack's eyes go wide. Did she just hear him right? She's supposed to stay on the island all alone with Knight? He's thinner and weaker than he used to be. But he's still loud and she's still scared of him.

Moir turns to Knight. Are you sure about this? You and Crawford barely made it off the island, let alone to Siberia. Knight slowly leans forward in his chair, grimacing. We sent the wrong team. I take full responsibility. Two people aren't enough. You need three. That's an extra person to get in the harness with the dogs to help them pull.

Knight groans as he tries to sit up straighter. The truth is, I can't make this journey, even if I wanted to. I'm too weak. If I stay here, I can nurse myself back to health. Blackjack chews on her cheek. She doesn't want to be left alone with Knight. He hasn't threatened her or physically harmed her in over a year, but he still barks at her and refers to her as the woman.

She'd rather go with the others. She'd happily walk all the way back to Nome if it's her best chance of ever seeing Bennett again. But no one's asked her what she wants. Like it or not, she's about to be stuck here with night alone. Ada Blackjack finishes the last stitch on a new pair of boots for Gale. Her fingers are red and raw.

She's been sewing as fast as she can to make sure the men have everything they need for their journey. Gail enters the shelter, tossing back his fur-lined hood. His curly hair flies in every direction. Do you have my boots? Blackjack holds them out for him to inspect. Just finished. In the nick of time, we're about to shove off.

Tears form in Blackjack's eyes. She's been so focused on all the sewing that she hasn't thought about the men leaving. But now it's happening. She's especially sad to say goodbye to Gail. He's become her best friend in the group. He's funny and nice and seems to genuinely like her. She turns her head, but not before Gail sees her crying.

Hey, hey, don't be scared. Just do what Knight tells you to and everything will be okay. Gail stoops down, looking Blackjack right in the eyes. Now, this is the most important thing. Blackjack brushes the tears from her cheeks and leans in to listen closely. Under absolutely no circumstances do you ever touch my typewriter. Blackjack laughs. She wishes Gail was staying and Knight was going.

She's going to miss his jokes. She'll even miss the constant clacking of his typewriter. "Do you want me to keep your letter to your family?" "I didn't write one." "No point." "I'm going to see them soon." "Just like I'll see you again soon." He turns and saunters out of the tent. Blackjack takes a moment to collect herself, then follows him out to say goodbye to the others.

Lauren Knight shuffles across the tent to a shelf of books. He leans heavily on his walking stick. The tent is only 10 feet wide, but by the time Knight reaches the shelf, he's out of breath and his legs ache like he's walked 10 miles. Outside, he hears Ada Blackjack chopping wood. He wishes he was doing it himself. He could do it much faster than her if he was at full strength.

But in the months since the others left, he's grown so weak he can barely move. He can no longer ignore the illness that's been plaguing him. He needs to figure out what he has and how to treat himself, or he'll be dependent on Blackjack indefinitely.

That thought scares him worse than any illness. The woman has become a good worker and takes orders well, but she's not smart or resourceful. There's no way she'll be able to run the camp and take care of him for an extended period of time. He needs to get better soon for them to survive. Knight pulls down an encyclopedia. It feels like it weighs 100 pounds.

He drags himself back across the room and collapses into his bed. His body is drenched in sweat as he gasps for breath. After he's recovered, he flips through the pages until he finds the entry he's looking for: Scurvy. He reads that scurvy begins with "fatigue, loss of strength, and sudden dejection of spirit." That's a relief. He's fatigued and weak, but his spirits are fine. Maybe it's not scurvy.

He continues to read. Next comes bloating of the face. Then the teeth start to loosen. The gums turn spongy. Knight pats his cheeks. They don't feel bloated. Then he checks each of his teeth, and his stomach sinks. Two of them are loose, and the gums around them are soft. Knight quickly skims through the rest of the symptoms. By the end, he can't deny it. He has scurvy.

He has over half the symptoms. And if he can't figure out how to stop the disease from getting worse, it could kill him. He knows what he needs: fresh food, ideally lemons or limes, but even raw meat would help. But he's too weak to hunt, and Blackjack doesn't know how to use a gun. Not that he'd trust her to handle one. She's too temperamental, scared of everything.

Knight drops the encyclopedia to the floor and stares up at the ceiling. For the first time since he arrived on the island, he's scared. Ada Blackjack rummages through the first aid kit, searching for a cotton ball and some ointment. She moves as quietly as she can so as to not wake Lorne Knight. But it's hard not to make noise because she can barely see.

Her left eye is swollen shut, and she strains to keep her right eye open. She doesn't know what's wrong. It's late April 1923, three months since Crawford, Moorer, and Gale left for Siberia. Knight has been too sick to work, so Blackjack has been running the camp without complaint. When she woke up yesterday, her left eye was a little swollen.

She pushed through the pain, but today she's much worse. She lies back on her sleeping bag, dabbing the cotton ball to her eye. Vic, the cat, curls up at her feet. She knows she should get up. There's so much to do. She needs to chop the wood, tend the fire, visit the traps. She also needs to check on Knight. He's so weak he soils himself. She has to clean him and adjust his pillows.

Pillows she made herself from oat sacks placed underneath him to prevent bed sores. But with her eyes like this, she doesn't know how she can manage any of it. Does she have scurvy too? Maybe she'll become bedridden, like night. They'll both waste away in their sleeping bags. The others will find their withered bodies when they return in a few months. What will happen to her son Bennett?

Tears leak from Blackjack's eyes, making them sting. She hears Knight stirring in his bed across the tent. "Hey, what are you doing in bed? You should be checking the traps. I can't today. I'm sick."

Without warning, night erupts. You lazy bitch. Back to your old tricks. You say your husband beat you? Well, you deserved it. Bringing you with us was the biggest mistake I ever made. Blackjack rolls on her side to turn away from him.

No matter how hard she tries, it never seems to be enough for Knight. He's always mad at her. He never considers that she's doing all the work that was once split between five people. "I know what's happening. You don't want me to live. I'm going to write a letter and tell everyone that you tried to kill me. You'll be sorry. They'll take your son away from you." She clasps her hands over her ears to block out the horror of Knight's words.

but she still hears him. It's no wonder your other children died. Judging from how you take care of me, you must have killed them. Blackjack sobs. This is too cruel. Finally, Knight runs out of steam. After a while, she hears his snores. He's fallen back asleep, but his vicious words about her dead children still echo in her head. She picks up her pencil and opens her diary.

She writes slowly, struggling to see through her swollen eyes. "If I be known dead, I want my sister Rita to take Bennett, my son. Don't let his father Jack Blackjack take him." She closes the diary and lies back down, then cries herself to sleep. Blackjack walks back to camp after checking the fox traps. They were empty, but she's feeling upbeat.

Her eyes have fully recovered. The sun shines, and the temperature has risen above freezing. It won't be much longer before Milton, Gail, and the others come back with the ship, and she can go home. She's determined to keep herself and Lorne Knight alive until then. She wants to prove that he's wrong about her, about what kind of mother she is. She looks up to see an enormous flock of ducks flying overhead.

There must be hundreds of them. So much fresh, fatty meat. Exactly what Knight needs most. But she doesn't know how to shoot. Knight still won't let her touch the guns. Blackjack continues on her way, listening to the ducks flying above her. Her mouth waters at the idea of eating one. She really wishes she could shoot them. And she wonders, what if she could?

Knight doesn't want her to touch the guns because he doesn't think she can learn how to use them. But he didn't think she'd be able to chop wood or set traps. And it turns out, she can. Blackjack walks a little faster. It's her job to keep herself and Knight alive until help arrives. She needs to do it her way. When she gets back to camp, she carefully picks up the rifle from the rack at the front of the tent.

It's heavier than she thought, but she's made up her mind. She's going to learn how to shoot it. This season, Instacart has your back-to-school. As in, they've got your back-to-school lunch favorites, like snack packs and fresh fruit. And they've got your back-to-school supplies, like backpacks, binders, and pencils. And they've got your back when your kid casually tells you they have a huge school project due tomorrow.

It's a warm day in early May on Wrangell Island. Just outside camp, Ada Blackjack places an empty tea tin on top of a rock.

She walks back about 50 yards to where she left the rifle. She lugged it out of the tent earlier this morning while Knight was still sleeping. She's glad he didn't see her take it. She knows he would tell her she's too weak to fire a gun, and she doesn't want to fight with him. She heaves the rifle onto her shoulder, the way she's seen the men do it.

♪♪

She flies backwards. The force of the recoil slams her to the ground. The rifle clatters next to her. The tea tin sits right where it was, untouched. Blackjack's shoulder throbs where the butt of the gun kicked. Her ears ring. She looks at the heavy rifle, wondering how she'll ever control it. Maybe she can't do this. But she could if she had something to prop it on.

something that would distribute the weight. That way, she could just focus on aiming and firing. She scans the ground and sees a large piece of wood. And then she gets an idea. She grabs some tools from around camp and begins to carve the wood. It takes the better part of the day, but by the end, she's made a small platform that she can mount on her shoulder. The butt of the gun can rest on it.

It will transfer some of the weight from her biceps to her shoulder, and the wood will absorb the recoil. It's time to test it out. She gets back in position, 50 yards from the T-tin. She places the gun rest on her shoulder, adjusting it until it feels snug.

Then she hoists the gun up, placing the butt on top of the wooden platform. Already, the barrel feels lighter, steadier in her grip. She closes one eye, aims at the tea tin, and fires. The shot still misses, but she stays on her feet. There's an ache in her shoulder, but nothing she can't handle. This is workable.

She just has to develop her aim. She practices the rest of the afternoon. By the end of the day, she's hit the T-10 twice. Not bad for her first time ever handling a gun. She vows to practice again tomorrow. The faster she improves, the faster she can catch food for herself and Knight. ♪

Ada Blackjack trudges over the tundra, checking the fox traps. The wildflowers are in full bloom now, and she admires the bursts of color in her path. The rifle is slung over her back, and the wooden gun rest sits snug against her shoulder. It's been a week since she first shot the gun. Now, she takes it with her everywhere.

She still gets nervous before every shot, and she still hates the noise. But her aim has gotten better. She's stopped practicing on the tea tins to preserve ammunition. The traps are empty. Another meal of hardtack, fried in seal oil, awaits her and Knight. The thought of it makes her feel ill, but it's all there is.

Night has lost so many teeth. He can barely choke down food. He's so skinny. She worries she'll break one of his bones when she shifts his pillows. A seagull squawks overhead. Blackjack doesn't think, doesn't get scared. She raises the rifle to her shoulder, aims at the bird, and shoots. Feathers explode into the sky, and the bird falls to the ground. She runs to it,

She shot it clean through the head. She whoops with joy. She can't wait to get back and show Knight. She'll gloat, and then she'll make him a nice broth from the fat and the bones. She hopes she can get him to drink a lot of it. She's definitely going to record this feat in her diary.

As she leans down to pick up the seagull, she realizes the date. Today is her 25th birthday. She holds up the dead bird. This feels like a good present. She hopes it's a good sign for the year to come. Ada Blackjack sobs over Lorne Knight's body where he lays inside his tent. It's June 22nd, 1923.

Night has been slipping in and out of consciousness for the past three weeks. She's tried to comfort him by reading to him from the Bible that he loaned her. One day, he opened his eyes and told her that when they get back to Nome, he would let her keep it. Now, she gently shakes him, but he doesn't stir. She's terrified that this is it.

He's gone. She did everything she could to take care of him, but it wasn't enough. "Please wake up. Please don't leave me here all alone. Please." As if answering her prayers, Knight's eyes flicker open. She lets out a relieved wail. He looks at her, seeming confused. "What's the matter, Ada?" She's surprised to hear him call her by her name.

He almost never does that. "I'm scared you're going to die. Leave me here, all alone." Oh. He shifts his eyes to the ground, avoiding her gaze. He's not denying it, not trying to console her. He thinks he's dying too. Knight grabs her hand. His hand feels bony and cold in hers. Blood seeps from his nose. He speaks with difficulty. "Listen to me."

You did everything you could. You fed me. You cleaned me. You sewed for me. You taught yourself to set traps and hunt. I couldn't have asked for better. Thank you. Blackjack wipes tears from her cheeks. Knight squeezes her hand. He's not finished. Now you have to do your best and take care of yourself until the others come back with the ship. We'll be here soon. Just hang on.

His voice trails off and his hand falls away. Blackjack realizes he's passed out again. She gently tucks his arm back into his sleeping bag. It won't be much longer until he's gone. But now that she knows he doesn't blame her, she feels unexpectedly at peace. The next morning, Blackjack blinks her eyes open.

Sunlight creeps in through the walls of the tent. Vic is curled up at the bottom of her sleeping bag. Blackjack rubs her eyes and swings her legs over the side of her cot. She pulls on the hunting pants she made herself, a jacket and her boots, and goes to check on Knight. She always checks on him as soon as she wakes up. She walks across the tent to his bed.

He's lying on his back, like always, his eyes closed. But he's uncannily still. There's no rise and fall to his chest, no tremor in his fingers. Blackjack tenses. Tentatively, she holds her hand under his nose. She can't feel his breath. He's gone. She expects tears to gush from her eyes, but she feels calm. He was sick for so long and in so much pain.

She's glad he's no longer suffering. She hopes he's with God now. She pulls the sleeping bag over his head, then stands frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. She realizes she should record his death. If something happens to her before the ship arrives, the others will want to know what happened tonight. She wants to make it more official than just noting it in her diary. But how? She scans the room.

Her eyes land on Milton Gale's typewriter. He told her not to touch it, but she hopes he'll forgive her in this case. She sits down in the chair and slides the paper in, just like she used to watch Gale do it. Her fingers hover over the keys, and then she begins to type. "Wrangle Island. Mr. Knight died on June 23, 1923. I don't know what time he died though.

just to let you know what month he died and the date of the month. Written by Mrs. Ada Blackjack. When she's done, she leans back in the chair. Vic rubs against her legs. She reaches down and picks the cat up, stroking her head. It's just us now. Vic purrs and nuzzles Blackjack's face. Blackjack holds her close and wonders how she's going to survive here.

now that she's alone. This is episode two of our three-part series, Ada Blackjack Stranded in the Arctic. A quick note about our scenes. In most cases, we can't know exactly what was said, but everything is based on historical research.

If you'd like to learn more about this story, we recommend Ada Blackjack, A True Story of Survival in the Arctic by Jennifer Niven and Marooned in the Arctic by Peggy Caravantes. I'm your host, Cassie DePeckel. This episode is written by Austin Rackless. Our editor is Sean Raviv. Our audio engineer is Sergio Enriquez. Sound design is by Joe Richardson.

Produced by Matt Almos and Emily Frost. Our managing producer is Tanja Thigpen. Our senior producer is Andy Herman. Our executive producers are Stephanie Jens and Marshall Louis. For Wondery.

My name is Georgia King, and I am thrilled to be the host of And Away We Go, a brand new travel podcast on Wondery Plus, where we'll be whisked away on immersive adventures all around the world. Where we go, what we do, what we eat, drink, and listen to will all be up to my very special guest.

We've got Ben Schwartz taking us on a whirlwind trip around Disneyland. We'll eat a bowl of life-changing pasta with Jimmy O. Yang in Tuscany, Italy. And how do you feel about a spot of sugaring off with Emily Hampshire in Montreal? And away we go. We'll immerse you

in some of the wonders of the world. We're going to be seeing some yellows and vibrant oranges. And the shoes clicking against the cobblestone. If you're looking to get somebody in the mood, have them look at the Chicago skyline. You can listen to And Away We Go exclusively with Wondery Plus. Join Wondery Plus in the Wondery app or on Apple Podcasts. Georgia, do you know what joy sounds like? I think I'm hearing it right now.