Ada blackjack starts a fire in the stove. The fire went out during the night, and it's a cold morning. So she looks forward to the warmth. It's August 20th, 1923, about a week since the storm that blew away her umay. Afterward, blackjack was so depressed that she spent three days in bed. But finally, she got tired of feeling sorry for herself. A few days ago, she got up and built a new boat. She's not exactly her usual self. There's a bone, deep, exhaustion. She can't shake. But the feeling of despair has subsided. She hears a weird rumbling sound in the distance. She steps away from the crackle of the fire, to listen more closely. She hears it again and looks down at Vic, who has her ears perked up, relax Vic. It's just a walrus. Now that the fire is lit, she starts making breakfast. She pours seal oil into a pot and takes some dried duck out from the cupboard. Vic rubs against her feet, begging for a piece. Blackjack gives her a tiny bit. She hears the same sound again, but louder, repeating at a steady clip. This time, she freezes. And her eyes go wide. That's not a walrus. She grabs her binoculars and charges out of the tent. She climbs up the ladder to her observation platform, and aims her binoculars towards the ocean. But she can't see anything through the thick, soupy fog. She frantically looks back and forth, desperate to find out what's making the sound. She has a guess, but she's trying not to get her hopes up. A gust of wind shifts the fog. And then she sees it. Hazy and faint, but clearly visible just offshore. The mast of a ship. She slings the binoculars over her shoulder and leaps from the platform, landing on the tundra with a thud. She sprints toward the beach, the binoculars thumping against her side. When she reaches the ocean, she charges into it, splashing through the waves. Her legs go numb in the freezing cold water. But she doesn't care. An unac emerges from the fog, being rowed by a handful of Inuit men. Behind them sits a white man, a parka hood over his head. She can't make out his face. But she sure she knows who it is. She grins and yells out. Gayle. But as the boat grows closer, she sees that the white man is not Milton Gale, with his round cheeks and bright eyes. The man is older, with deeply lying in his face. The reaches her and the man offers his hand. I'm Harold noyce, captain of the Donaldson. Why isn't mister Gale with you? Where's mister Crawford and mister moorer? Noyce looks at her. Surprised. I thought they were here on the island. Blackjack shakes her head. A feeling of dread spreading through her. There's nobody here but me. I'm all alone. What about Lorne knight? Black Jack looks down. Mister knight died on June 23rd. She can no longer hold her tears back. They gushed down her cheeks. Her knees feel weak. I want to see my son. Can you take me back to nome? Yes, of course. Black Jack's legs fall out from under her. She almost ends up falling into the water, but noise catches and holds her. It's over. You're going home. All blackjack can do is cry. Ada blackjack steps onto a dock in the harbor of nome Alaska. She has a small bag of belongings on her back and Vic in her arms. The sounds of men yelling, hoisting sails and loading supplies pierce her ears. The sheer number of people is overwhelming. It's August 31st, 1923. Blackjack has just spent the last 8 days on board the Donaldson in a small cabin. After captain noyce arrived at the island, she spent three more days on wrangel. Noyce and his crew buried lord knight's body. Erecting a simple wooden cross to mark the grave. Noyce packed up all the records he could find, including knights and black jacks diaries to give to Wilhelm or Stephenson. Blackjack's secretly stowed night's Bible in her bag. She promised to return it tonight's parents herself. Blackjack remains frozen on the dock. She feels dizzy. Everything is moving so fast. Then she hears someone calling her name. Over here. Black Jack sees her sisters and their husbands walking towards her. Peeking out shyly from behind one sister is a young boy. Blackjack gasps. He's taller and his face is more angular, but he's unmistakably Bennett. Black Jack snaps out of her trance and rushes over. She hands Vic off to one of her sisters and throws her arms around her son. Bennett remains still for a long time. And then it's like a dam breaks. He clutches her jacket with all his strength and cries. Blackjack rests her head on top of his..