Journey to the Pole (Antartica, Book 1)
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The year is 1909. A motley crew of explorers and vagabonds sets sail for Antarctica aboard the Mystery.
The voyage south is long and hard, and tensions between the crew members are severe. Breaking new ground, they set out to conquer the great South Pole. But they do not make it all the way. Instead, they must retreat for their lives. And so begins a year-long trek back to civilization, with every day bringing new risk and new adventure.
kind understanding of me circumlocutions.” “Dismissed.” Philip looked as if he were going to cry. Before he could protest, Nigel grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the hatch. “Andrew,” Jack said, “at the first sign of the horizon, would you give the captain a reading? Colin, rouse the men and tell them to rig a new foresail—then let’s raise the mainsail and see how she sets. Captain Barth, you and I will take stock of the damage to the stores.” “Aye, aye, sir,” Andrew said. Before
November 14, 1909 SWEEPING THE STORAGE HOLD. The storage hold. Of all the insulting, menial tasks. Nigel drew his broom across the wooden planks, sending up a cloud of dust. “D’yer understand wha’ this means? D’yer realize wha’ they’re doin’ to us?” The boy’s back was to Nigel. He was leaning over a barrel, no doubt eating. Or daydreaming. Or both. The only things he could do well, the pampered brat. “Hmm?” “It’s storage, Philip. What’ll they have us do next—put up a little festive buntin,’
somewhere.” He riffled through a pile of papers and fished out a yellowed news clipping. Colin took it and read: Public-school vandals … weaponry was most likely toy guns …” a lark,” Sergeant Hollings said. “These boys have had it handed to them for so long, they believe they deserve it” … “any theft of £10,000 from a London bank has to be taken seriously, and those young men treated as adult criminals and prosecuted to the full extent of the law” … A warrant has been issued for the arrest of
He was screaming now. He had no choice. This was not the place to sleep. It was not the time. They would die here, all of them. They needed to eat. The food stores were low, but rationing made no sense. They needed to eat it all, eke out what energy they could and move on—farther north, closer to the water, closer to the seals and penguins. Food. “Will someone shut him up?” Cranston mumbled. Ruppenthal yawned. “What stinks?” “Come on, we’re moving,” Andrew said. He ran around the tent, shaking
first Russian Book Festival. From left to right: R. L. Stine, Lerangis, Marc Brown, Cherie Blair QC, and First Lady Laura Bush. The Lerangis/deVaron family in 2005 at the Gates exhibition in Central Park— just a hop, skip, and a jump from their home on the Upper West Side. (Image courtesy of Ellen Dubin Photography.) A welcome reception during an author visit in Solana Beach, California, in 2009. Lerangis connects with his audience after a school visit in Chappaqua, New York, in