until the 28th, after a most arduous journey. They had now nothing to
depend on but the boat, and that they could not use until the sea was
open, which would not be for six months.
Preparations for another winter were therefore made. The sledges were
unloaded, the provisions put back in the pantry, and the clothes, arms,
furs, &c., in the magazines. The dogs returned to their dog-house, and
the reindeer to their stable.
Great was the despair of Thomas Black at this return to seclusion. The
poor astronomer carried his instruments, his books, and his MSS. back to
his room, and more angry than ever with “the evil fate which pursued
him,” he held himself aloof from everything which went on in the
factory.
All were again settled at their usual winter avocations the day after
their arrival, and the monotonous winter life once more commenced.
Needlework, mending the clothes, taking care of the furs, some of which
might yet be saved, the observation of the weather, the examination
of the ice-field, and reading aloud, were the daily occupations. Mrs
Barnett was, as before, the leader in everything, and her influence was
everywhere felt. If, as sometimes happened, now that all were uneasy
about the future, a slight disagreement occurred between any of the
soldiers, a few words from Mrs Barnett soon set matters straight, for
she had acquired wonderful power over the little world in which she
moved, and she always used it for the good of the community.
Kalumah had become a great favourite with everybody, for she was always
pleasant and obliging. Mrs Barnett had undertaken her education, and
she got on quickly, for she was both intelligent and eager to learn. She
improved her English speaking, and also taught her to read and write
in that language. There were, however, twelve masters for Kalumah, all
eager to assist in this branch of her education, as the soldiers had
all been taught reading, writing, and arithmetic either in England or in
English colonies.
The building of the boat proceeded rapidly, and it was to be planked and
decked before the end of the month. Mac-Nab and some of his men worked
hard in the darkness outside, with no light but the flames of burning
resin, whilst others were busy making the rigging in the magazines of
the factory. Although the season was now far advanced, the weather still
remained very undecided. The cold was sometimes intense, but owing to
the prevalence of west winds it never lasted long.
Thus passed the whole of December, rain and intermittent falls of snow
succeeded each other, the temperature meanwhile varying from 26° to
34° Fahrenheit. The consumption of fuel was moderate, although there
was no need to economise it, the reserves being considerable. It was
otherwise with the oil, upon which they depended for light, for the
stock was getting so low that the Lieutenant could at last only allow
the lamps to be lit for a few hours every day. He tried using reindeer
fat for lighting the house, but the smell of it was so unbearable that
every one preferred being in the dark. All work had of course to be
given up for the time, and very tedious did the long dark hours appear.
Some Auroræ Borealis and two or three lunar halos appeared at full
moon, and Thomas Black might now have minutely observed all these
phenomenon, and have made precise calculations on their intensity, their
coloration, connection with the electric state of the atmosphere, and
their influence upon the magnetic needle, &c. But the astronomer did not
even leave his room. His spirit was completely crushed.
On the 30th December the light of the moon revealed a long circular line
of icebergs shutting in the horizon on the north and east of Victoria
Island. This was the ice-wall, the frozen masses of which were piled up
to a height of some three or four hundred feet. Two-thirds of the island
were hemmed in by this mighty barrier, and it seemed probable that the
blockade would become yet more complete.
The sky was clear for the first week of January. The new year, 1861,
opened with very cold weather, and the column of mercury fell to 8°
Fahrenheit. It was the lowest temperature that had yet been experienced
in this singular winter, although it was anything but low for such a
high latitude.
The Lieutenant felt it his duty once more to take the latitude and
longitude of the island by means of stellar observations, and found that
its position had not changed at all.
About this time, in spite of all their economy, the oil seemed likely to
fail altogether. The sun would not appear above the horizon before early
in February, so that there was a month to wait, during which there was a
danger of the colonists having to remain in complete darkness. Thanks
to the young Esquimaux, however, a fresh supply of oil for the lamps was
obtained.
On the 3rd January Kalumah walked to Cape Bathurst to examine the state
of the ice. All along the south of the island the ice-field was very
compact, the icicles of which it was composed were more firmly welded
together, there were no liquid spaces between them, and the surface of
the floe, though rough, was perfectly firm everywhere. This was no doubt
caused by the pressure of the chain of icebergs on the horizon, which
drove the ice towards the north, and squeezed it against the island.
Although she saw no crevasses or rents, the young native noticed
many circular holes neatly cut in the ice, the use of which she knew
perfectly well. They were the holes kept open by seals imprisoned
beneath the solid crust of ice, and by which they came to the surface to
breathe and look for mosses under the snow on the coast.
Kalumah knew that in the winter bears will crouch patiently near these
holes, and watching for the moment when the seal comes out of the water,
they rush upon it, hug it to death in their paws, and carry it off. She
knew, too, that the Esquimaux, not less patient than the bears, also
watch for the appearance of these animals, and throwing a running noose
over their heads when they push them up, drag them to the surface.
What bears and Esquimaux could do might certainly also be done by
skilful hunters, and Kalumah hastened back to the fort to tell the
Lieutenant of what she had seen, feeling sure that where these holes
were seals were not far off.
Hobson sent for the hunters, and the young native described to them
the way in which the Esquimaux capture these animals in the winter, and
begged them to try.
She had not finished speaking before Sabine had a strong rope with a
running noose ready in his hand and accompanied by Hobson, Mrs Barnett,
Kalumah, and two or three soldiers, the hunters hurried to Cape
Bathurst, and whilst the women remained on the beach, the men made their
way to the holes pointed out by Kalumah. Each one was provided with a
rope, and stationed himself at a different hole.
A long time of waiting ensued—no sign of the seals, but at last the
water in the hole Marbre had chosen began to bubble, and a head with
long tusks appeared. It was that of a walrus. Marbre flung his running
noose skilfully over its neck and pulled it tightly. His comrades rushed
to his assistance, and with some difficulty the huge beast was dragged
upon the ice, and despatched with hatchets.
It was a great success, and the colonists were delighted with this novel
fishing. Other walruses were taken in the same way, and furnished plenty
of oil, which, though not strictly of the right sort, did very well for
the lamps, and there was no longer any lack of light in any of the rooms
of Fort Hope.
The cold was even now not very severe, and had the colonists been on the
American mainland they could only have rejoiced in the mildness of the
winter. They were sheltered by the chain of icebergs from the north
and west winds, and the month of January passed on with the thermometer
never many degrees below freezing point, so that the sea round Victoria
Island was never frozen hard. Fissures of more or less extent broke the
regularity of the surface in the offing, as was proved by the continued
presence of the ruminants and furred animals near the factory, all of
which had become strangely tame, forming in fact part of the menagerie
of the colony.
According to Hobson’s orders, all these creatures were unmolested.
It would have been useless to kill them, and a reindeer was only
occasionally slaughtered to obtain a fresh supply of venison. Some of
the furred animals even ventured into the enceinte, and they were not
driven away. The martens and foxes were in all the splendour of their
winter clothing, and under ordinary circumstances would have been of
immense value. These rodents found plenty of moss under the snow, thanks
to the mildness of the season, and did not therefore live upon the
reserves of the factory.
It was with some apprehensions for the future that the end of the
winter was awaited, but Mrs Barnett did all in her power to brighten the
monotonous existence of her companions in exile.
Only one incident occurred in the month of January, and that one was
distressing enough. On the 7th, Michael Mac-Nab was taken ill—severe
headache, great thirst and alternations of shivering and fever, soon
reduced the poor little fellow to a sad state. His mother and father,
and indeed all his friends, were in very great trouble. No one knew what
to do, as it was impossible to say what his illness was, but Madge, who
retained her senses about her, advised cooling drinks and poultices.
Kalumah was indefatigable, remaining day and night by her favourite’s
bedside, and refusing to take any rest.
About the third day there was no longer any doubt as to the nature of
the malady. A rash came out all over the child’s body, and it was
evident that he had malignant scarlatina, which would certainly produce
internal inflammation.
Children of a year old are rarely attacked with this terrible disease,
but cases do occasionally occur. The medicine-chest of the factory was
necessarily insufficiently stocked, but Madge, who had nursed several
patients through scarlet lever, remembered that tincture of belladonna
was recommended, and administered one or two drops to the little invalid
every day. The greatest care was taken lest he should catch cold; he
was at once removed to his parents’ room, and the rash soon came out
freely. Tiny red points appeared on his tongue, his lips, and even on
the globes of his eyes. Two days later his skin assumed a violet hue,
then it became white and fell off in scales.
It was now that double care was required to combat the great internal
inflammation, which proved the severity of the attack, Nothing was
neglected, the boy was, in fact, admirably nursed, and on the 20th
January, twelve days after he was taken ill, he was pronounced out of
danger.
Great was the joy in the factory. The baby was the child of the fort,
of the regiment! He was born in the terrible northern latitudes, in the
colony itself, he had been named Michael Hope, and he had come to be
regarded as a kind of talisman in the dangers and difficulties around,
and all felt sure that God would not take him from them.
Poor Kalumah would certainly not have survived him had he died, but
he gradually recovered, and fresh hope seemed to come back when he was
restored to the little circle.
The 23d of January was now reached, after all these distressing
alternations of hope and fear. The situation of Victoria Island had
not changed in the least, and it was still wrapped in the gloom of the
apparently interminable Polar night. Snow fell abundantly for some days,
and was piled up on the ground to the height of two feet.
On the 27th a somewhat alarming visit was received at the fort. The
soldiers Belcher and Pond, when on guard in front of the enceinte in
the morning, saw a huge bear quietly advancing towards the fort. They
hurried into the large room, and told Mrs Barnett of the approach of the
formidable carnivorous beast.
“Perhaps it is only our bear again,” observed Mrs Barnett to Hobson,
and accompanied by him, and followed by the Sergeant, Sabine, and some
soldiers provided with guns,—he fearlessly walked to the postern.
The bear was now about two hundred paces off, and was walking along
without hesitation, as if he had some settled plan in view.
“I know him!” cried Mrs Barnett, “it is your bear, Kalumah, your
preserver!”
“Oh, don’t kill my bear!” exclaimed the young Esquimaux.
“He shall not be killed,” said the Lieutenant, “don’t injure
him, my good fellows,” he added to the men, “he will probably return
as he came.”
“But suppose he intends coming into the enceinte?” said Long, who
had his doubts as to the friendly propensities of Polar bears.
“Let him come, Sergeant,” said Mrs Barnett, “he is a prisoner like
ourselves, and you know prisoners”—
“Don’t eat each other,” added Hobson. “True, but only when they
belong to the same species For your sake, however, we will spare this
fellow-sufferer, and only defend ourselves if he attack us. I think,
however, it will be as prudent to go back to the House. We must not put
too strong a temptation in the way of our carnivorous friend!”
This was certainly good advice, and all returned to the large room, the
windows were closed, but not the shutters.
Through the panes the movements of the visitor were watched. The bear,
finding the postern unfastened, quietly pushed open the door, looked
in, carefully examined the premises, and finally entered the enceinte.
Having reached the centre, he examined the buildings around him, went
towards the reindeer stable and dog-house, listened for a moment to the
howlings of the dogs and the uneasy noises made by the reindeer, then
continued his walk round the palisade, and at last came and leant his
great head against one of the windows of the large room.
To own the truth everybody started back, several of the soldiers seized
their guns, and Sergeant Long began to fear he had let the joke go too
far.
But Kalumah came forward, and looked through the thin partition with her
sweet eyes. The bear seemed to recognise her, at least so she thought,
and doubtless satisfied with his inspection, he gave a hearty growl, and
turning away left the enceinte, as Hobson had prophesied, as he entered
it.
This was the bear’s first and last visit to the fort, and on his
departure everything went on as quietly as before.
The little boy’s recovery progressed favourably, and at the end of the
month he was as rosy and as bright as ever.
At noon on the 3rd of February, the northern horizon was touched with
a faint glimmer of light which did not fade away for an hour, and the
yellow disc of the sun appeared for an instant for the first time since
the commencement of the long Polar night.