The Tinsley Expedition catastrophe

As I returned from the ships section of the museum where some kid had - once again - tried to climb on top of the mast of one of the exhibit, I took a peek in the Explorer's Lounge to see if anyone was there.

Hank. As always.

Sitting on the bench in the middle of the room, a small cup of coffee in his hands, he was starring at the window facing him. This particular section was honoring the career of Robin Tinsley who was considered a pioneer in the study of the Arctic. It was the only one exhibit I was familiar with as I took some time to read the plaque on the wall beside the window. Hank was one of our most regular visitors, pretty much every few days you'd find him at this exact spot, absorbed by the Tinsley pictures. While the museum didn't allow food or drinks, myself and the other security guards were making an exception for him, for the sake that he was here so often.

I entered the lounge, glaring at the portraits of famous explorers perfectly aligned on the wall behind Hank. I always liked the sound of silence that the museum commands by nature. Even with to no signs explicitly requiring you to keep your voice level to a lower level, you assumed that you had to stay quiet, as if you didn't wanted to disturb the pieces being shown, as if they were performing of some sort.

"How are you today Ryan ?" Hank's low voice pulled me away from my own thoughts. He knew each and everyone of us by name.

"Oh, hi Hank. I w-w-was somewhere el-else. Didn't realize y-you noticed me entering."

Hank was probably in his late 80s, despite appearing to be in a respectable physical condition, the burdens of time had started to show.

"I can tell you're new around here, am I right ?" he hasked, raising his eyebrows.

"Y-y-yes, I star-started a few months ago...I no-noticed you come here often to watch these pictures." I paused. I wanted to know why he was obsessed with this explorer in particular. Opened my mouth but nothing came out.

Hank's turned his head away from the pictures and looked at me, smiling behind his thick salt and pepper beard.

"Yes ?"

"Wh-wh-why this one ?"

He took a sip of his coffee, clicking his tongue in the process. He put his hand in his beard, scratching his jaw.

"Well, since you're the first one to actually ask, I'll tell you. I've been coming here for the last forty years and no one even thought to ask me why."

I frowned. Nobody had asked him what he was doing here for forty years ? And we call ourselves security guards. I took a peek at my watch : the museum was closing in less than an hour. Since they weren't letting anyone get in at that point, I sure had some time for Hank's story. I approached the bench and sat beside Hank, looking at the photographs in front of me. The portrait of Tinsley, pictures and drawings of polar bears, a few maps. 

"Now, since you read the plaque, you must know that Dr. Robin Tinsley is famously known as the first biologist to actually study and document the fauna of the Canadian Arctic. When he published his book on the matter at the beginning of the century, he became an overnight celebrity and started giving lectures all around the country. At that time, the North was considered a very unknown place where we didn't believe there was anyone - or anything - living up there."

He pointed at the picture with a heavy yellow tint of a polar bear standing on his back legs. 

"So in this setting, you have this biologist that comes out with this detailed book about all the animals that live there, complete with detailed drawings and photographs. That bear is the one that got him famous. Nobody had ever seen a picture like this before.

His work got very popular outside the academic world and he started to give more lecture that had more of a....how can I put this...a more entertaining objective rather than his initial lectures that focused on the actual science. Chasing blood-thirsty bears was proving to sell more than a comprehensive description of how polar bears lived and survived in those conditions.

This more adventurous way of presenting his research eventually made a rich oil businessman reach out to Dr. Tinsley to ask him to perform a simple - yet ambitious - request : assemble a crew and bring back a perfect polar bear specimen for an exhibit on the fabulous fauna of the Canadian Arctic. Tinsley initally refused, stating that his interest was purely academic, stating that he would not disturb these majestic creatures for the sole purpose of entertainement.

Tinsley's opposition lasted for a few weeks until he was offered four thousand dollars for the specimen. That was a lot of money back then, so much that it was almost equivalent to Tinsley's annual salary as a professor. To cut out on costs and, according to him, grant brilliant minds an opportunity to experience the fabulous adventures that he had lived in the Arctic during his first expeditions where he most notably produced that polar bear picture, Dr. Tinsley recruited two of his students as his crew.

That decision led to some questionning from other academics, stating that he would need an experienced crew to increase his chances of success, much like other explorers that tackled the Arctic sea after the publishing of his book. Tinsley responded to critics that he knew his way around a ship better than anyone else and that he was insulted that colleagues would question his judgement. After all, Tinsley was still riding on his newfound celebrity status, having published his book a few years before.

He purchased a boat at an auction in Toronto and had it delivered to a small Inuit village near James Bay, along with a month-worth of supplies. When he arrived in the village with his two students, Tinsley hired a local fisherman that informed him that he knew his way around the bay and could guide them to Copperhead Point, the island that Tinsley was planning to visit in order to capture a polar bear specimen.

After delaying departure a few times because of bad weather, the expedition, formed by Tinsley, his two students and the Inuk fisherman, set sail on a calm November morning. The ship that Tinsley had purchased used to be sailing in Eastern Canada and was clearly not adapted to the challenge ahead. It managed to get out of the James bay but was completely over-powered by the Hudson's more rigorous conditions, having trouble navigating throught the large waves, massive blocks of ice and an ever-going-down temperature. The "crew" assembled by Dr. Tinsley wasn't much help : only one of them had some sailing experience, the other setting foot on a ship for the first time in his life.

After a few weeks of sailing, the ship's haul got stuck in the ice, leaving the whole expedition incapable to move anywhere, at the mercy of the elements. Supplies were getting low since the incapability of the ship to overcome the harsh path ahead had slowed them down significantly, falling behind on schedule. Since Tinsley's had planned to reach Copperhead Point at a much faster rate, he had purchased less supplies, as money he would make off the completion of this expedition seemed to be his main concern.

Tinsley had to make a call : either abandon ship and try to reach shore to get help or remain in the ship and hope that it got unstuck, risking of running out of supplies if that plan failed. He decided that the Inuk fisherman would leave the ship with a rifle and a sled, head out west and try to hunt a few seals in order to provide enough meat to last a few weeks. Clearly knowing that the success of the plan was relying on him, the Inuk fisherman left the ship in the morning, carrying his equipment in the sled he was pulling.

Having been raised around these parts and this weather, the Inuk fisherman successfully reached an hunting spot after a few days of walking alone, with nothing but ice to be see. Occupied by walruses, the Inuk managed to kill one of them with the rifle he was provided by Tinsley. At five-hundred pounds, this thing would provide them for weeks worth of meat and heating using the animal's fat. The walk back to the ship took the Inuk a few more days than he imagined, as he had to pull the walrus's carcass along the way.

Eight days after he first left the ship, the Inuk fisherman returned. Upon his arrival, he didn't saw anybody on the deck. No lights, no sound, as if the ship had been abandoned. He found Tinsley's body in his cabin, laying in his desk chair, a gunshot wound on the side of his head. In their beds were the bodies of the students, with marks on their necks, evidently strangled.

Tinsley didn't leave an explanation regarding the events that looked like a murder-suicide situation. A lot of people believe that he lost his mind after the Inuk was gone for so long and didn't see any outcome where he wouldn't endure a long and painful death. Since the ship was never recovered, the only version we have is the one the fisherman gave when he came back to the village."

"So you come here because you're related to Tinsley ?"

Hank laughed, shaking his shoulders.

"That's nonsense. I like coming here because it reminds me that those were simpler times, where you could rob a pathological liar that never set foot in the Arctic looking for an island thousand of miles away and get away with it with great storytelling skills."