that they might not add to the cares of their chief, they had pretended
to know nothing, and had worked away at the preparations for the winter
with the same zeal as the year before.
Tears of emotion stood in Hobson’s eyes, and he made no attempt to
conceal them, but seizing Marbre’s outstretched hand, he pressed it in
his own.
Yes, the soldiers all knew it, for Marbre had guessed it long ago. The
filling of the reindeer trap with salt water, the non-arrival of
the detachment from Fort Reliance, the observations of latitude and
longitude taken every day, which would have been useless on firm ground,
the precautions observed by Hobson to prevent any one seeing him take
the bearings, the fact of the animals remaining on the island after
winter had set in, and the change in the position of the cardinal points
during the last few days, which they had noticed at once, had all been
tokens easily interpreted by the inhabitants of Fort Hope. The arrival
of Kalumah had puzzled them, but they had concluded that she had been
thrown upon the island in the storm, and they were right, as we are
aware.
Marbre, upon whom the truth had first dawned, confided his suspicions
to Mac-Nab the carpenter and Rae the blacksmith. All three faced the
situation calmly enough, and agreed that they ought to tell their
comrades and wives, but decided to let the Lieutenant think they knew
nothing, and to obey him without question as before.
“You are indeed brave fellows, my friends,” exclaimed Mrs Barnett,
who was much touched by this delicate feeling, “you are true
soldiers!”
“Our Lieutenant may depend upon us,” said Mac-Nab, “he has done
his duty, and we will do ours.”
“I know you will, dear comrades,” said Hobson, “and if only Heaven
will help and not forsake us, we will help ourselves.”
The Lieutenant then related all that had happened since the time when
the earthquake broke the isthmus, and converted the districts round Cape
Bathurst into an island. He told how, when the sea became free from ice
in the spring, the new island had been drifted more than two hundred
miles away from the coast by an unknown current, how the hurricane had
driven it back within sight of land, how it had again been carried away
in the night of the 31st August, and, lastly, how Kalumah had bravely
risked her life to come to the aid of her European friends. Then he
enumerated the changes the island had undergone, explaining how the
warmer waters had worn it away, and his fear that it might be carried
to the Pacific, or seized by the Kamtchatka Current, concluding his
narrative by stating that the wandering island had finally stopped on
the 27th of last September.
The chart of the Arctic seas was then brought, and Hobson pointed out
the position occupied by the island—six hundred miles from all land.
He ended by saying that the situation was extremely dangerous, that
the island would inevitably be crushed when the ice broke up, and that,
before having recourse to the boat—which could not be used until the
next summer—they must try to get back to the American continent by
crossing the ice-field.
“We shall have six hundred miles to go in the cold and darkness of the
Polar night. It will be hard work, my friends, but you know as well as I
do that there can be no shrinking from the task.”
“When you give the signal to start, Lieutenant, we will follow you,”
said Mac-Nab.
All being of one mind, the preparations for departure were from that
date rapidly pushed forward. The men bravely faced the fact that they
would have six hundred miles to travel under very trying circumstances.
Sergeant Long superintended the works, whilst Hobson, the two hunters,
and Mrs Barnett, often went to test the firmness of the ice-field.
Kalumah frequently accompanied them, and her remarks, founded on
experience, might possibly be of great use to the Lieutenant. Unless
they were prevented they were to start on the 20th November, and there
was not a moment to lose.
As Hobson had foreseen, the wind having risen, the temperature fell
slightly, and the column of mercury marked 24° Fahrenheit.
Snow, which soon became hardened, replaced the rain of the preceding
days. A few more days of such cold and sledges could be used. The little
bay hollowed out of the cliffs of Cape Michael was partly filled with
ice and snow; but it must not be forgotten that its calmer waters
froze more quickly than those of the open sea, which were not yet in a
satisfactory condition.
The wind continued to blow almost incessantly, and with considerable
violence, but the motion of waves interfered with the regular formation
and consolidation of the ice. Large pools of water occurred here and
there between the pieces of ice, and it was impossible to attempt to
cross it.
“The weather is certainly getting colder,” observed Mrs Barnett
to Lieutenant Hobson, as they were exploring the south of the island
together on the 10th November, “the temperature is becoming lower and
lower, and these liquid spaces will soon freeze over.”
“I think you are right, madam,” replied Hobson, “but the way in
which they will freeze over will not be very favourable to our plans.
The pieces of ice are small, and their jagged edges will stick up all
over the surface, making it very rough, so that if our sledges get over
it at all, it will only be with very great difficulty.”
“But,” resumed Mrs Barnett, “if I am not mistaken, a heavy fall of
snow, lasting a few days or even a few hours, would suffice to level the
entire surface!”
“Yes, yes,” replied Hobson, “but if snow should fall, it will be
because the temperature has risen; and if it rises, the ice-field will
break up again, so that either contingency will be against us!”
“It really would be a strange freak of fortune if we should experience
a temperate instead of an Arctic winter in the midst of the Polar
Sea!” observed Mrs Barnett.
“It has happened before, madam, it has happened before. Let me remind
you of the great severity of last cold season; now it has been noticed
that two long bitter winters seldom succeed each other, and the whalers
of the northern seas know it well. A bitter winter when we should have
been glad of a mild one, and a mild one when we so sorely need the
reverse. It must be owned, we have been strangely unfortunate thus
far! And when I think of six hundred miles to cross with women and a
child!”...
And Hobson pointed to the vast white plain, with strange irregular
markings like guipure work, stretching away into the infinite
“I know you will, dear comrades,” said Hobson, “and if only Heaven
will help and not forsake us, we will help ourselves.”
The Lieutenant then related all that had happened since the time when
the earthquake broke the isthmus, and converted the districts round Cape
Bathurst into an island. He told how, when the sea became free from ice
in the spring, the new island had been drifted more than two hundred
miles away from the coast by an unknown current, how the hurricane had
driven it luck within sight of land, how it had again been carried away
in the night of the 31st August, and, lastly, how Kalumah had bravely
risked her life to come to the aid of her European friends. Then he
enumerated the changes the island had undergone, explaining how the
warmer waters had worn it away, and his fear that it might be carried
to the Pacific, or seized by the Kamtchatka Current, concluding his
narrative by stating that the wandering island had finally stopped on
the 27th of last September.
The chart of the Arctic seas was then brought, and Hobson pointed out
the position occupied by the island—six hundred miles from all land.
He ended by saying that the situation was extremely dangerous, that
the island would inevitably be crushed when the ice broke up, and that,
before having recourse to the boat—which could not be used until the
next summer—they must try to get back to the American continent by
crossing the ice-field.
“We shall have six hundred miles to go in the cold and darkness of the
Polar night. It will be hard work, my friends but you know as well as I
do that there can be no shirking from the task” “When you give the
signal to start, Lieutenant, we will follow you,” said Mac-Nab.
All being of one mind, the preparations for departure were from that
date rapidly pushed forward. The men bravely faced the fact that they
would have six hundred miles to travel under very trying circumstances.
Sergeant Long superintended the works, whilst Hobson, the two hunters,
and Mrs Barnett, often went to test the firmness of the ice-field
Kalumah frequently accompanied them, and her remarks, founded on
experience, might possibly be of great use to the Lieutenant. Unless
they were prevented they were to start on the 20th November, and there
was not a moment to lose.
As Hobson had foreseen, the wind having risen, the temperature fell
slightly, and the column of mercury marked 24° Fahrenheit.
Snow, which soon became hardened, replaced the rain of the preceding
days. A few more days of such cold and sledges could be used The little
bay hollowed out of the cliffs of Cape Michael was partly filled with
ice and snow, but it must not be forgotten that its calmer waters
froze more quickly than those of the open sea, which were not yet in a
satisfactory condition.
The wind continued to blow almost incessantly, and with considerable
violence, but the motion of waves interfered with the regular formation
and consolidation of the ice. Large pools of water occurred here and
there between the pieces of ice, and it was impossible to attempt to
cross it.
“The weather is certainly getting colder,” observed Mrs Barnett
to Lieutenant Hobson, as they were exploring the south of the island
together on the 10th November, “the temperature is becoming lower and
lower, and these liquid spaces will soon freeze over.”
“I think you are right, madam,” replied Hobson, “but the way in
which they will freeze over will not be very favourable to our plans.
The pieces of ice are small, and their jagged edges will stick up all
over the surface, making it very rough, so that if our sledges get over
it at all, it will only be with very great difficulty.”
“But,” resumed Mrs Barnett, “if I am not mistaken, a heavy fall of
snow, lasting a few days or even a few hours, would suffice to level the
entire surface!”
“Yes, yes,” replied Hobson, “but if snow should fall, it will be
because the temperature has risen; and if it rises, the ice-field will
break up again, so that either contingency will be against us!”
“It really would be a strange freak of fortune if we should experience
a temperate instead of an Arctic winter in the midst of the Polar
Sea!” observed Mrs Barnett.
“It has happened before, madam, it has happened before. Let me remind
you of the great severity of last cold season; now it has been noticed
that two long bitter winters seldom succeed each other, and the whalers
of the northern seas know it well. A bitter winter when we should have
been glad of a mild one, and a mild one when we so sorely need the
reverse. It must be owned, we have been strangely unfortunate thus
far! And when I think of six hundred miles to cross with women and a
child!”...
And Hobson pointed to the vast white plain, with strange irregular
markings like guipure work, stretching away into the infinite distance.
Sad and desolate enough it looked, the imperfectly frozen surface
cracking every now and then with an ominous sound. A pale moon, its
light half quenched in the damp mists, rose but a few degrees above the
gloomy horizon and shot a few faint beams upon the melancholy scene.
The half-darkness and the refraction combined doubled the size of every
object. Icebergs of moderate height assumed gigantic proportions, and
were in some cases distorted into the forms of fabulous monsters. Birds
passed overhead with loud flapping of wings, and in consequence of this
optical illusion the smallest of them appeared as large as a condor or
a vulture. In the midst of the icebergs yawned apparently huge black
tunnels, into which the boldest man would scarcely dare to venture, and
now and then sudden convulsions took place, as the icebergs, worn away
at the base, heeled over with a crash, the sonorous echoes taking up
the sounds and carrying them along. The rapid changes resembled the
transformation scenes of fairyland, and terrible indeed must all those
phenomena have appeared to the luckless colonists who were about to
venture across the ice-field!
In spite of her moral and physical courage Mrs Barnett could not control
an involuntary shudder. Soul and body alike shrunk from the awful
prospect, and she was tempted to shut her eyes and stop her ears that
she might see and hear no more. When the moon was for a moment veiled
behind a heavy cloud, the gloom of the Polar landscape became still more
awe-inspiring, and before her mind’s eye rose a vision of the caravan
of men and women struggling across these vast solitudes in the midst of
hurricanes, snow-storms, avalanches, and in the thick darkness of the
Arctic night!
Mrs Barnett, however, forced herself to look; she wished to accustom
her eyes to these scenes, and to teach herself not to shrink from facing
their terrors. But as she gazed a cry suddenly burst from her lips, and
seizing Hobson’s hand, she pointed to a huge object, of ill-defined
dimensions, moving about in the uncertain light, scarcely a hundred
paces from where they stood.
It was a white monster of immense size, more than a hundred feet high.
It was pacing slowly along over the broken ice, bounding from one piece
to another, and beating the air with its huge feet, between which it
could have held ten large dogs at least. It, too, seemed to be seeking
a practicable path across the ice—it, too, seemed anxious to fly from
the doomed island. The ice gave way beneath its weight, and it had often
considerable difficulty in regaining its feet.
The monster made its way thus for about a quarter of a mile across the
ice, and then, its farther progress being barred, it turned round and
advanced towards the spot where Mrs Barnett and the Lieutenant stood.
Hobson seized the gun which was slung over his shoulder and presented
it at the animal, but almost immediately lowering the weapon, he said to
Mrs Barnett—
“A bear, madam, only a bear, the size of which has been greatly
magnified by refraction.”
It was, in fact, a Polar bear, and Mrs Barnett drew a long breath of
relief as she understood the optical illusion of which she had been the
victim. Then an idea struck her.
“It is my bear!” she exclaimed, “the bear with the devotion of a
Newfoundland dog! Probably the only one still on the island. But what is
he doing here?”
“He is trying to get away,” replied Hobson, shaking his head. “He
is trying to escape from this doomed island, and he cannot do so! He is
proving to us that we cannot pass where he has had to turn back!”
Hobson was right, the imprisoned animal had tried to leave the island
and to get to the continent, and having failed it was returning to the
coast. Shaking its head and growling, it passed some twenty paces from
the two watchers, and, either not seeing them or disdaining to take
any notice of them, it walked heavily on towards Cape Michael, and soon
disappeared behind the rising ground.
Lieutenant Hobson and Mrs Barnett returned sadly and silently to the
fort.
The preparations for departure went on as rapidly, however, as if it
were possible to leave the island. Nothing was neglected to promote the
success of the undertaking, every possible danger had to be foreseen,
and not only had the ordinary difficulties and dangers of a journey
across the ice to be allowed for, but also the sudden changes of weather
peculiar to the Polar regions, which so obstinately resist every attempt
to explore them.
The teams of dogs required special attention. They were allowed to run
about near the fort, that they might regain the activity of which too
long a rest had, to some extent, deprived them, and they were soon in a
condition to make a long march.
The sledges were carefully examined and repaired. The rough surface
of the ice-field would give them many violent shocks, and they were
therefore thoroughly overhauled by Mac-Nab and his men, the inner
framework and the curved fronts being carefully repaired and
strengthened.
Two large waggon sledges were built, one for the transport of
provisions, the other for the peltries. These were to be drawn by
the tamed reindeer, which had been well trained for the service. The
peltries or furs were articles of luxury with which it was not perhaps
quite prudent to burden the travellers, but Hobson was anxious to
consider the interests of the Company as much as possible, although he
was resolved to abandon them, en route, if they harassed or impeded his
march. No fresh risk was run of injury of the furs, for of course they
would have been lost if left at the factory.
It was of course quite another matter with the provisions, of which a
good and plentiful supply was absolutely necessary. It was of no use to
count on the product of the chase this time. As soon as the passage of
the ice-field became practicable, all the edible game would get on
ahead and reach the mainland before the caravan. One waggon sledge was
therefore packed with salt meat, corned beef, hare patès, dried fish,
biscuits—the stock of which was unfortunately getting low—and an
ample reserve of sorrel, scurvy-grass, rum, spirits of wine, for making
warm drinks, &c. &c. Hobson would have been glad to take some fuel
with him, as he would not meet with a tree, a shrub, or a bit of moss
throughout the march of six hundred miles, nor could he hope for pieces
of wreck or timber cast up by the sea, but he did not dare to overload
his sledges with wood. Fortunately there was no lack of warm comfortable
garments, and in case of need they could draw upon the reserve of
peltries in the waggon.
Thomas Black, who since his misfortune had altogether retired from
the world, shunning his companions, taking part in none of the
consultations, and remaining shut up in his own room, reappeared as soon
as the day of departure was definitely fixed. But even then he
attended to nothing but the sledge which was to carry his person,
his instruments, and his registers. Always very silent, it was now
impossible to get a word out of him. He had forgotten everything, even
that he was a scientific man, and since he had been deceived about the
eclipse, since the solution of the problem of the red prominences of
the moon had escaped him, he had taken no notice of any of the peculiar
phenomena of the high latitudes, such as the Aurora Borealis, halos,
parhelia, &c.
During the last few days every one worked so hard that all was ready for
the start on the morning of the 18th November.
But, alas! the ice-field was still impassable. Although the thermometer
had fallen slightly, the cold had not been severe enough to freeze the
surface of the sea, with any uniformity, and the snow which fell was
fine and intermittent. Hobson, Marbre, and Sabine went along the coast
every day from Cape Michael to what was once the corner of the old
Walruses’ Bay. They even ventured out about a mile and a half upon
the ice-field, but were compelled to admit that it was broken by
rents, crevasses, and fissures in every direction. Not only would it be
impossible for sledges to cross it, it was dangerous for unencumbered
pedestrians. Hobson and his two men underwent the greatest fatigue in
these short excursions, and more than once they ran a risk of being
unable to get back to Victoria Island across the ever-changing,
ever-moving blocks of ice.
Really all nature seemed to be in league against the luckless colonists.
On the 18th and 19th November, the thermometer rose, whilst the
barometer fell. Fatal results were to be feared from this change in
the state of the atmosphere. Whilst the cold decreased the sky became
covered with clouds, which presently resolved themselves into heavy rain
instead of the sadly-needed snow, the column of mercury standing at 34°
Fahrenheit. These showers of comparatively warm water melted the snow
and ice in many places, and the result can easily be imagined. It
really seemed as if a thaw were setting in, and there were symptoms of a
general breaking up of the ice-field. In spite of the dreadful weather,
however, Hobson went to the south of the island every day, and every day
returned more disheartened than before.
On the 20th, a tempest resembling in violence that of the month before,
broke upon the gloomy Arctic solitudes, compelling the colonists to give
up going out, and to remain shut up in Fort Hope for two days.