Occasionally an amusing incident occurred to vary the sameness of our daily life, as the following story will show. During the darkest part of the winter one of the magnetic observers had occasion to visit the observatory. Taking his lantern, and accompanied by Nellie, he reached the door, which to his surprise was open. Supposing it to have been blown open by the wind, for it had been blowing very hard the previous night, he entered the long tunnel leading up to the Unifilar House. Before he had gone far a strong animal smell assailed his olfactory organs; this, with the fact of Nellie exhibiting great restlessness, induced him to examine the ground, when he clearly detected the traces of some animal, but of what description he was unable to decide.
He was now placed in rather an unpleasant position, for to advance head-foremost through a narrow passage into a small house in which a great Polar bear might have established himself, was to say the least a rash act; yet he was unwilling to return on board, and probably be for ever after chaffed by his messmates for being frightened at nothing. Putting on a bold front, he determined at all hazards to push on, and ascertain what the animal was that had dared to violate the sacred precincts of the observatory. As he advanced the peculiar odour became stronger, and he was sorely tempted to retreat, thinking discretion was the better part of valour. Arriving at the entrance to the house, however, he plucked up courage, and with the lantern well in front of him, and Nellie close at his heels, he dashed in, and there, lying down and looking almost as frightened as himself, was, not the great white bear that he expected to meet, but “Bruin,” the largest of our Eskimo dogs, who, during the boisterous weather of the preceding night, had sought shelter in our observatory, and had no doubt found it a very snug and comfortable place, infinitely preferable to the bleak and exposed floe. It was a long time before the place was rid of the unpleasant smell peculiar to Eskimo dogs.
As the light increased day by day, the men were employed in re-embarking the stores and provisions landed, and in demolishing “Markham Hall.” It was necessary to accomplish as much as possible, as Captain Nares well knew, before the departure of the sledging parties, for so few men would be left on board that little could be done during their absence, and there was no saying how soon after their return the ship would be able to break out of winter quarters. The Eskimo dogs were also now regularly fed and attended to. Hitherto they had been left to do pretty much as they liked, and their regular meals during the winter had been few, and served at uncertain times. Notwithstanding the small amount of food that was issued to them, they were all in capital condition, in fact a little too “fleshy” for dragging purposes, as they always received the scraps and surplus food from the allowance of the ship’s company, and this was more than enough to keep a much larger pack of dogs than we possessed. They were also regularly exercised in dragging a light sledge, their day’s work increasing as the days lengthened.
We could not but notice the sallowness of complexion which the returning light revealed, only too palpably, in the faces of our companions, caused by the long absence of the sun, and which had hitherto been unnoticed by the light of lamps and candles. Like our mustard and cress, we were devoid of all colour, yet apparently in good and sound health. There is something essentially health-preserving and life-giving in the rays of the sun, without which everything must wither and eventually die. This was, in the sequel, but too fully exemplified in our case. For although we were all in excellent spirits and supposed ourselves to be in perfect health, yet the seeds of that terrible disease, which subsequently crippled us so disastrously, must have already germinated unknown to ourselves.
But little did we suspect, at that time, the approach of the evil that eventually overtook us.
Many of the large floe-bergs near the ship were observed to be literally rent in twain, owing in all probability to the contraction of the ice by the intense cold—the outer part of the floeberg being exposed to a greater cold than the interior. These rents will also account for the loud sharp reports that were frequently heard during the winter, and which were for some time wrapped in mystery.
Towards the end of February a few hares were seen, and two or three were shot; but they were very timid and shy, and seldom gave our sportsmen opportunities of exhibiting their prowess. Lemming tracks were abundant, and occasionally these little animals would be seen running along the snow. Nellie regarded them as being created for her especial enjoyment in hunting, and would vainly endeavour to unsnow them after they had taken refuge in their holes. Woe betide the unfortunate little lemming observed by Nellie at any distance from its habitation. A dash, a gobble, and all was over! In vain did we try to break her of these murderous propensities, not only for the sake of the victims but also for herself, as the swallowing of little balls of fur cannot be conducive to health. All was futile! Nellie considered the chase of these little creatures as an undoubted privilege with which no one should interfere.
| LEMMINGS. |
The long twilight enabled us to extend our rambles, and we visited the snow hut built by Rawson last autumn when attempting to get south, about five or six miles from the ship, and in which he had deposited a small quantity of provisions. To our surprise we discovered that, with the exception of the pemmican which was in a tin, and the tobacco, all had disappeared! Biscuit, bacon, tea, sugar, and cocoa, all had gone. A hole through the roof of the house pointed at once to the means of ingress; but who were the thieves? Foxes or wolves had not been seen, nor had any traces of them been observed!
Even supposing these animals to be the depredators, how did they effect their escape from the house after once they had got in? It was simple enough to scrape a hole through the roof and jump down; but it was not so easy to jump straight up a height of six or seven feet through a small hole! Suspicion fell for some time on our long-missing dog Sallie; but it was never satisfactorily ascertained whether dog, wolf, or fox was the culprit. Of one thing there could be no doubt. The robbery had been committed by a very cunning and intelligent beast. Spots of blood on the pemmican tin showed unmistakeably that this also had been attempted, but had proved too hard and strong. The tracks, which were always to and from the floe, were too indistinct to enable us to make out the nature of the animal, but the general idea was that it was a fox.