The Fur Country
By Jules Verne.
Translated by N. D’Anvers.
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To my nephews
Herbert, Edgar, and Robert
This Translation
is
affectionately dedicated,
The Fur Country
Seventy Degrees North Latitude
Part I
I
A Soiree at Fort Reliance
On the evening of the 17th March 1859, Captain Craventy gave a fête at Fort Reliance. Our readers must not at once imagine a grand entertainment, such as a court ball, or a musical soiree with a fine orchestra. Captain Craventy’s reception was a very simple affair, yet he had spared no pains to give it éclat.
In fact, under the auspices of Corporal Joliffe, the large room on the ground-floor was completely transformed. The rough walls, constructed of roughly-hewn trunks of trees piled up horizontally, were still visible, it is true, but their nakedness was disguised by arms and armour, borrowed from the arsenal of the fort, and by an English tent at each corner of the room. Two lamps suspended by chains, like chandeliers, and provided with tin reflectors, relieved the gloomy appearance of the blackened beams of the ceiling, and sufficiently illuminated the misty atmosphere of the room. The narrow windows, some of them mere loopholes, were so encrusted with hoarfrost, that it was impossible to look through them; but two or three pieces of red bunting, tastily arranged about them, challenged the admiration of all who entered. The floor, of rough joists of wood laid parallel with each other, had been carefully swept by Corporal Joliffe. No sofas, chairs, or other modern furniture, impeded the free circulation of the guests. Wooden benches half fixed against the walls, huge blocks of wood cut with the axe, and two tables with clumsy legs, were all the appliances of luxury the saloon could boast of. But the partition wall, with a narrow door leading into the next room, was decorated in a style alike costly and picturesque. From the beams hung magnificent furs admirably arranged, the equal of which could not be seen in the more favoured regions of Regent Street or the Perspective-Newski. It seemed as if the whole fauna of the icebound North were here represented by their finest skins. The eye wandered from the furs of wolves, grey bears, polar bears, otters, wolverines, beavers, muskrats, water polecats, ermines, and silver foxes; and above this display was an inscription in brilliantly-coloured and artistically shaped cardboard—the motto of the world-famous Hudson’s Bay Company—
“Propelle Cutum.”
“Really, Corporal Joliffe, you have surpassed yourself!” said Captain Craventy to his subordinate.
“I think I have, I think I have!” replied the Corporal; “but honour to whom honour is due, Mrs. Joliffe deserves part of your commendation; she assisted me in everything.”
“A wonderful woman, Corporal.”
“Her equal is not to be found, Captain.”
An immense brick and earthenware stove occupied the centre of the room, with a huge iron pipe passing from it through the ceiling, and conducting the dense black smoke into the outer air. This
