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bs； fingers and toes intact…no mean feat where temperatures could reach 50 degrees below zero。 From past voyages with brother Bjorn； Johanssen was also familiar with the Nyberg Brothers' oil processing facility on Bouve…toya Island； one of the world's most remote locations。
A few years before； in 1897； Karl Johanssen thought he'd given up the sea for good。 Lured to northern California by his brother's promises of wealth； Karl had squandered his meager savings trying to strike it rich in the Alaska gold rush。 Forced to return to whaling out of financial desperation； he'd been ready to sign onto one of Christensen's ships for a paltry one…half of one percent share when Sven Nyberg had made his offer。 A berth as first mate with a full five…percent share was Karl's lucky second chance at a fortable retirement。
Of course； Karl would work hard for the money。 Sven Nyberg was an indifferent seaman； and he'd never spent even a single season on the Antarctic ice。 Fortunately； during their long twelve months of back…breaking labor； Sven had been wise enough to defer to Karl's judgment in nearly every situation。 Under the harpooner's tutelage； the younger Nyberg brother had learned secrets of the whale hunting trade that it would have taken him years to discover on his own。 The result； after a year； was an incredibly successful hunt； with Emma towing over three hundred carcasses into the cove at Bouvetoya Island。 There the remains of blues； minkes and sperms would be cut up and the blubber rendered for its oil。
It was during the grimy rendering process； when the men were outside for lengths of time attending the huge iron vat dominating the harbor； that the whalers began to see strange lights in the sky； and not the southern lights they were used to seeing。
Over Lykke Peak and the taller； three…thousand…foot Olav Peak that overshadowed the oil processing facility； bursts like distant cannon fire lit the sky； and explosions on the ice could be heard in the distance。 Then a strange reddish glow appeared on the horizon； illuminating the ceaseless twilight with the brilliance of a thousand cook fires。 The light danced crimson off the ice and tinged the millions of whalebones that littered the beach a sickly hue。 Often…but not always…the eerie lights were acpanied by tremors deep beneath the ground under their feet。
While volcanic activity on the island was not unusual…sometime in 1896 part of the island had even been destroyed by a volcanic eruption…the phenomena unsettled the whalers； who were trapped on Bou…vetoya until the spring thaw no matter what happened。 So after a few days of these strange events； in an effort to calm the whalers' fears and discover the cause of the eerie pyrotechnics； Karl led a group of sailors away from the harbor's ramshackle wooden buildings and onto the glacial ice that covered the fifty…square…mile island。
On a vast frozen plain； they recovered a large； metallic object shaped like a coffin built for a giant。 The object was embedded in the ice in the middle of a huge crater。 Its silvery surface was smooth and bullet…shaped； with no visible joints or openings。 There were markings etched into the metal…a strange； alien scrimshaw no whaler in the party could read or even recognize。 Though the metal coffin appeared to be hollow； no one could figure out how to open it； or what was inside。
Karl Johanssen thought it best to leave the thing where it lay； but in this one instance the skipper overruled him。 Captain Nyberg was eager to find another way to make the voyage profitable； so he ordered the sailors to load the object onto a sledge and use a dog team to drag it back to camp。 It took five men and fifteen dogs a full day to fulfill the captain's wishes； but when they were finished； the shining metal coffin was stored in the warehouse； among the barrels of whale oil waiting to be loaded into the ship's hold。 In just a few weeks； moderate temperatures would slowly free the Emma from the icy prison of the frozen bay。 Then the crew could return to Norway and claim the reward for twelve long months of labor。
But hours after the object was brought into their camp； Karl was jolted out of his narrow sleeping bunk by the sound of screams。 Yanking on boots but leaving his coat； Karl dashed across the icy street to the warehouse。 The doors were ajar； and one of them had been torn off its hinges。 In the center of the room Karl found four dead men…more than dead； they were ripped apart； and their heads and spinal columns had been severed and removed。 More ominous； the strange coffinlike object was now wide open and empty； and inside the drafty warehouse； mingled with the smell of freshly spilled blood； was a dank； reptilian stench。
Back outside； and shivering on the street； Karl discovered mammoth； bloody footprints leading out of the warehouse and across the street。 The crimson spoor formed a path right up to the rough wooden building where the sailors bunked。 There； at the door； he saw a ghostly shape shimmering in the frigid air。 Before he could shout a warning； Karl watched some invisible force smash down the door and surge into the sailors' quarters。 He heard cries of surprise and panic…then fear and agony…from inside the building。 There was a single shot； then a severed human hand flew through the door； still clutching a small pistol。
Finally； Karl watched as a sailor flew toward the window； his nightshirt bloody； his face a mask of terror。 The man's eyes met Karl's for a split second before a silver blur slashed across his naked throat。 Then bright red arterial blood coated the glass； and Karl could see no more。
Choking down his panic； Karl ran back to the warehouse and searched for a weapon…anything to defend himself。 Finding none； he sought escape instead。 Karl knew it was certain death to go outside without protection from the elements； but when he tried to remove the coats from the dead men； he found them torn and soaked with blood…blood that would freeze in an instant。 Finally； Karl wrapped himself in a dirty canvas tarpaulin and stumbled out the back door； slipping down an icy slope that led to the whalebone…littered beach。 There； among the skeletons of sperm； minke and blues； he hoped to find shelter enough to protect him until whatever it was that had emerged from that silver coffin returned to the hell from which it had e。
A tremor under the ice woke Karl Johanssen from a dreamless sleep。 With the perpetual twilight sky above； he could not know how long he'd been unconscious。 But the canvas that covered him glistened with ice； and his limbs refused to respond to his brain's mands。 More ominous； Karl could not even feel the cold that had seeped into him while he'd been unconscious。 Instead； it almost seemed as if a languorous cocoon of warmth enveloped him…a sure sign that he was freezing to death。
It took all of his willpower； but Karl forced himself to stand。 Without a proper coat； even the heavy canvas was not enough covering to retain his body heat。 A fire might save him； but he dared not risk attracting the invisible demon that had slaughtered the camp。 And anyway； he had nothing to burn。 Karl knew from experience that if he did not find warmth in less than an hour； he woul