The aspect of the ice field on the eastern side was exactly similar to that on the west. The same confusion of ice-masses, the same accumulation of hummocks and icebergs, as far as the eye could reach, with occasional alternations of smooth surfaces of small extent, intersected by numerous crevasses, the edges of which were already melting fast. The same complete solitude, the same desertion, not a bird, not an animal to be seen.
Mrs. Barnett climbed to the top of the hummock, and there remained for an hour, gazing upon the sad and desolate Polar landscape before her. Her thoughts involuntarily flew back to the miserable attempt to escape that had been made five months before. Once more she saw the men and women of the hapless caravan encamped in the darkness of these frozen solitudes, or struggling against insurmountable difficulties to reach the mainland.
At last the Lieutenant broke in upon her reverie, and said—
“Madam, it is more than twenty-four hours since we left the fort. We now know the thickness of the ice-wall, and as we promised not to be away longer than forty-eight hours, I think it is time to retrace our steps.”
Mrs. Barnett saw the justice of the Lieutenant’s remark. They had ascertained that the barrier of ice was of moderate thickness, that it would melt away quickly enough to allow of the passage of Mac-Nab’s boat after the thaw, and it would therefore be well to hasten back lest a snowstorm or change in the weather of any kind should render return through the winding valley difficult.
The party breakfasted and set out on the return journey about one o’clock p.m.
The night was passed as before in an ice-cavern, and the route resumed at eight o’clock the next morning, March 9th.
The travellers now turned their backs upon the sun, as they were making for the west, but the weather was fine, and the orb of day, already high in the heavens, flung some of its rays across the valley and lit up the glittering ice-walls on either side.
Mrs. Barnett and Kalumah were a little behind the rest of the party chatting together, and looking about them as they wound through the narrow passages pointed out by Marbre and Sabine. They expected to get out of the valley quickly, and be back at the fort before sunset, as they had only two or three miles of the island to cross after leaving the ice. This would be a few hours after the time fixed, but not long enough to cause any serious anxiety to their friends at home.
They made their calculation without allowing for an incident which no human perspicacity could possibly have foreseen.
It was about ten o’clock when Marbre and Sabine, who were some twenty paces in advance of the rest, suddenly stopped and appeared to be debating some point. When the others came up, Sabine was holding out his compass to Marbre, who was staring at it with an expression of the utmost astonishment.
“What an extraordinary thing!” he exclaimed, and added, turning to the Lieutenant—
“Will you tell me, sir, the position of the island with regard to the ice-wall, is it on the east or west?”
“On the west,” replied Hobson, not a little surprised at the question, “you know that well enough, Marbre.”
“I know it well enough! I know it well enough!” repeated Marbre, shaking his head, “and if it is on the west, we are going wrong, and away from the inland!”
“What, away from the island!” exclaimed the Lieutenant, struck with the hunter’s air of conviction.
“We are indeed, sir,” said Marbre; “look at the compass; my name is not Marbre if it does not show that we are walking towards the east not the west!”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Mrs. Barnett.
“Look, madam,” said Sabine.
It was true. The needle pointed in exactly the opposite direction to that expected. Hobson looked thoughtful and said nothing.
“We must have made a mistake when we left the ice cavern this morning,” observed Sabine, “we ought to have turned to the left instead of to the right.”
“No, no,” said Mrs. Barnett, “I am sure we did not make a mistake!”
“But—” said Marbre.
“But,” interrupted Mrs. Barnett, “look at the sun. Does it no longer rise in the east? Now as we turned our backs on it this morning, and it is still behind us, we must be walking towards the west, so that when we get out of the valley on the western side of the chain of icebergs, we must come to the island we left there.”
Marbre, struck dumb by this irrefutable argument, crossed his arms and said no more.
“Then if so,” said Sabine, “the sun and the compass are in complete contradiction of each other?”
“At this moment they are,” said Hobson, “and the reason is simple enough; in these high northern latitudes, and in latitudes in the neighbourhood of the magnetic pole, the compasses are sometimes disturbed, and the deviation of their needles is so great as entirely to mislead travellers.”
“All right then,” said Marbre, “we have only to go on keeping our backs to the sun.”
“Certainly,” replied Lieutenant Hobson, “there can be no hesitation which to choose, the sun or our compass, nothing disturbs the sun.”
The march was resumed, the sun was still behind them, and there was really no objection to be made to Hobson’s theory, founded, as it was, upon the position then occupied by the radiant orb of day.
The little troop marched on, but they did not get out of the valley as soon as they expected. Hobson had counted on leaving the ice-wall before noon, and it was past two when they reached the opening of the narrow pass.
Strange as was this delay, it had not made anyone
