Ungava

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER THREE.

  SHOWS HOW STANLEY DEIGNED TO CONSULT WITH WOMANKIND--THE OPINIONS OF ACHILD DEVELOPED--PERSUASION FAILS--EXAMPLE TRIUMPHS--THE FIRSTVOLUNTEERS TO UNGAVA.

  On reaching his apartment, which was in an angle of the principaledifice in the fort, Mr Stanley flung down his gun and paddles, anddrawing a chair close to his wife, who was working with her needle neara window, took her hand in his and heaved a deep sigh.

  "Why, George, that's what you used to say to me when you were at a lossfor words in the days of our courtship."

  "True, Jessie," he replied, patting her shoulder with a hand that roughservice had rendered hard and long exposure had burnt brown. "But theproducing cause then was different from what it is now. _Then_ it waslove; _now_ it is perplexity."

  Stanley's wife was the daughter of English parents, who had settled manyyears ago in the fur countries. Being quite beyond the reach of anyschool, they had been obliged to undertake the instruction of their onlychild, Jessie, as they best could. At first this was an easy matter,but as years flew by, and little Jessie's mind expanded, it was found tobe a difficult matter to carry on her education in a country in mostparts of which books were not to be had and schoolmasters did not exist.When the difficulty first presented itself, they talked of sendingtheir little one to England to finish her education; but being unable tobring themselves to part with her, they resolved to have a choiceselection of books sent out to them. Jessie's mother was a clever,accomplished, and lady-like woman, and decidedly pious, so that thelittle flower, which was indeed born to blush unseen, grew up to be agentle, affectionate woman--one who was a lady in all her thoughts andactions, yet had never seen polite society, save that of her father andmother. In process of time Jessie became Mrs Stanley, and the motherof a little girl whose voice was, at the time her father entered,ringing cheerfully in an adjoining room. Mrs Stanley's nature was anearnest one, and she no sooner observed that her husband was worriedabout something, than she instantly dropped the light tone in which sheat first addressed him.

  "And what perplexes you now, dear George?" she said, laying down herwork and looking up in his face with that straightforward, earnest gazethat in days of yore had set the stout backwoodsman's heart on fire, andstill kept it in a perennial blaze.

  "Nothing very serious," he replied with a smile; "only these fellowshave taken it into their stupid heads that Ungava is worse than the landbeyond the Styx; and so, after the tough battle that I had with you thismorning in order to prevail on you to remain here for a winter withoutme, I've had to fight another battle with them in order to get them togo on this expedition."

  "Have you been victorious?" inquired Mrs Stanley.

  "No, not yet."

  "Do you really mean to say they are _afraid_ to go? Has Prince refused?are Francois, Gaspard, and Massan cowards?" she inquired, her eyekindling with indignation.

  "Nay, my wife, not so. These men are not cowards; nevertheless theydon't feel inclined to go; and as for Dick Prince, he has been offhunting for a week, and I don't expect him back for three weeks atleast, by which time we shall be off."

  Mrs Stanley sighed, as if she felt the utter helplessness of woman insuch affairs.

  "Why, Jessie, that's what you used to say to me when you were at a lossfor words in the days of our courtship," said Stanley, smiling.

  "Ah, George, like you I may say that the cause is now perplexity; forwhat can _I_ do to help you in your present difficulty?"

  "Truly not much. But I like to tell you of my troubles, and to makemore of them than they deserve, for the sake of drawing forth yoursympathy. Bless your heart!" he said, in a sudden burst of enthusiasm,"I would gladly undergo any amount of trouble every day, if by so doingI should secure that earnest, loving, anxious gaze of your sweet blueeyes as a reward!" Stanley imprinted a hearty kiss on his wife's cheekas he made this lover-like speech, and then rose to place hisfowling-piece on the pegs from which it usually hung over the fireplace.

  At that moment the door opened, and a little girl, with bright eyes andflaxen hair, bounded into the room.

  "O mamma, mamma!" she said, holding up a sheet of paper, while a look ofintense satisfaction beamed on her animated countenance, "see, I havedrawn Chimo's portrait. Is it like, mamma? Do you think it like?"

  "Come here, Eda, my darling, come to me," said Stanley, seating himselfon a chair and extending his arms. Edith instantly left the portrait ofthe dog in her mother's possession, and, without waiting for an opinionas to its merits, ran to her father, jumped on his knee, threw her armsround his neck, and kissed him. Edith was by no means a beautifulchild, but miserable indeed must have been the taste of him who wouldhave pronounced her plain-looking. Her features were not regular; hernose had a strong tendency to what is called snubbed, and her mouth waslarge; but to counterbalance these defects she had a pair of large,deep-blue eyes, soft, golden hair, a fair, rosy complexion, and anexpression of sweetness at the corners of her mouth that betrayedhabitual good-nature. She was quick in all her movements, combined witha peculiar softness and grace of deportment that was exceedinglyattractive.

  "Would you like to go, my pet," said her father, "to a country far, faraway in the north, where there are high mountains and deep valleys,inhabited by beautiful reindeer, and large lakes and rivers filled withfish; where there is very little daylight all the long winter, and wherethere is scarcely any night all the long, bright summer? Would my Edalike to go there?"

  The child possessed that fascinating quality of being intenselyinterested in all that was said to her. As her father spoke, her eyesgradually expanded and looked straight into his, while her head turnedslowly and very slightly to one side. As he concluded, she replied,"Oh! very, very, _very_ much indeed," with a degree of energy that madeboth her parents laugh.

  "Ah, my darling! would that my lazy men were endued with some of yourspirit," said Stanley, patting the child's head.

  "Is Prince a lazy man, papa?" inquired Edith anxiously.

  "No, certainly, Prince is not. Why do you ask?"

  "Because I love Prince."

  "And do you not love all the men?"

  "No," replied Edith, with some hesitation; "at least I don't love them_very_ much, and I hate one."

  "Hate one!" echoed Mrs Stanley. "Come here, my darling."

  Eda slipped from her father's knee and went to her mother, feeling andlooking as if she had said something wrong.

  Mrs Stanley was not one of those mothers who, whenever they hear oftheir children having done anything wrong, assume a look of intense,solemnised horror, that would lead an ignorant spectator to suppose thatintelligence had just been received of some sudden and appallingcatastrophe. She knew that children could not be deceived by suchpieces of acting. She expressed on her countenance precisely what shefelt--a slight degree of sorrow that her child should cherish an evilpassion, which, she knew, existed in her heart in common with all thehuman race, but which she expected, by God's help and blessing, tosubdue effectually at last. Kissing Eda's forehead she saidkindly,--"Which of them do you hate, darling?"

  "Gaspard," replied the child.

  "And why do you hate him?"

  "Because he struck my dog," said Eda, while her face flushed and hereyes sparkled; "and he is always rude to everybody, and very, _very_cruel to the dogs."

  "That is very wrong of Gaspard; but, dearest Eda, do you not rememberwhat is written in God's Word,--`Love your enemies?' It is wrong to_hate_ anybody."

  "I know that, mamma, and I don't wish to hate Gaspard, but I can't helpit. I wish if I didn't hate him, but it _won't_ go away."

  "Well, my pet," replied Mrs Stanley, pressing the child to her bosom,"but you must pray for him, and speak kindly to him when you meet him,and that will perhaps put it away. And now let us talk of the far-offcountry that papa was speaking about. I wonder what he has to tell youabout it."

  Stanley had been gazing out of the window during the foregoing colloquy,apparently inattentive, though,
in reality, deeply interested in whatwas said. Turning round, he said--

  "I was going to tell Eda that you had arranged to follow me to thatcountry next year, and that perhaps you would bring her along with you."

  "Nay, George, you mistake. I did not arrange to do so--you onlyproposed the arrangement; but, to say truth, I don't like it, and Ican't make up my mind to let you go without us. I cannot wait till nextyear."

  "Well, well, Jessie, I have exhausted all my powers of persuasion. Ileave it entirely to yourself to do as you think best."

  At this moment the sound of deep voices was heard in the hall, which wasseparated from Stanley's quarters by a thin partition of wood. In a fewseconds the door opened, and George Barney, the Irish butler and generalfactotum to the establishment, announced that the "min wos in the hallawaitin'."

  Giving Eda a parting kiss, Stanley rose and entered the hall, whereFrancois, Massan, Gaspard, and several others were grouped in a corner.On their bourgeois entering, they doffed their bonnets and bowed.

  "Well, lads," began Stanley, with a smile, "you've thought better of it,I hope, and have come to volunteer for this expedition--" He checkedhimself and frowned, for he saw by their looks that they had come withquite a different intention. "What have you to say to me?" he continuedabruptly.

  The men looked uneasily at each other, and then fixed their eyes onFrancois, who was evidently expected to be spokesman.

  "Come, Francois, speak out," said Stanley; "if you have any objections,out with them; you're free to say what you please here."

  As he spoke, and ere Francois could reply, Frank Morton entered theroom. "Ah!" he exclaimed, as he deposited his rifle in a corner andflung his cap on the table, "in time, I see, to help at the council!"

  "I was just asking Francois to state his objections to going," saidStanley, as his young friend took his place beside him.

  "Objections!" repeated Frank; "what objections can bold spirits have togo on a bold adventure? The question should have been, `Who will befirst to volunteer?'"

  At this moment the door of Stanley's apartment opened, and his wifeappeared leading Eda by the hand.

  "Here are two volunteers," she said, with a smile; "pray put us at thehead of your list. We will go with you to any part of the world!"

  "Bravo!" shouted Frank, catching up Eda, with whom he was a greatfavourite, and hugging her tightly in his arms.

  "Nay, but, wife, this is sheer folly. You know not the dangers thatawait you--"

  "Perhaps not," interrupted Mrs Stanley; "but _you_ know them, and thatis enough for me."

  "Indeed, Jessie, I know them not. I can but guess at them.--But, ah!well, 'tis useless to argue further. Be it so; we shall head the listwith you and Eda."

  "And put my name next," said a deep-toned voice from behind the othermen. All turned round in surprise.

  "Dick Prince!" they exclaimed; "you here?"

  "Ay, lads," said a tall man of about forty, who was not so remarkablefor physical development (though in this respect he was by no meansdeficient) as for a certain decision of character that betrayed itselfin every outline of his masculine, intelligent countenance--"ay, lads,I'm here; an' sorry am I that I've jist comed in time to hear thatyou're sich poor-spirited rascals as to hang back when ye should jumpfor'ard."

  "But how came you so opportunely, Prince?" inquired Stanley.

  "I met an Injin, sir, as told me you was goin' off; so I thought youmight want me, and comed straight back. And now, sir, I'm ready to go;and so is Francois," he continued, turning to that individual, whoseized his hand and exclaimed, "That am I, my boy--to the moon if yelike!"

  "And Massan, too," continued Prince.

  "All right; book me for Nova Zembla," replied that worthy.

  "So, so," cried Mr Stanley, with a satisfied smile. "I see, lads, thatwe're all of one mind now. Is it not so? Are we agreed?"

  "Agreed! agreed!" they replied with one voice.

  "That's well," he continued. "Now then, lads, clear out and get yourkits ready.--And ho! Barney, give these men a glass of grog.--Prince, Ishall want to talk with you this evening. Come to me an hour hence.--And now," he added, taking Eda by the hand, "come along, my gentlevolunteers; let's go to supper."