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 23rd 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, she 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 Eskimo.
“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 doghouse, 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.
XV
The Last Exploring Expedition
From this date, February 3rd, the sun rose each day higher above the horizon, the nights were, however, still very long, and, as is often the case in February, the cold increased, the thermometer marking only 1° Fahrenheit, the lowest temperature experienced throughout this extraordinary winter.
“When does the thaw commence in these northern seas?” inquired Mrs. Barnett of the Lieutenant.
“In ordinary seasons,” replied Hobson, “the ice does not break up until early in May; but the winter has been so mild that unless a very hard frost should now set in, the thaw may commence at the beginning of April. At least that is my opinion.”
“We shall still have two months to wait then?”
“Yes, two months, for it would not be prudent to launch our boat too soon amongst the floating ice; and I think our best plan will be to wait until our island has reached the narrowest part of Bering Strait, which is not more than two hundred miles wide.”
“What do you mean?” exclaimed
