“Yes, Madge; it is a fine country, and we have as yet seen none of the wonders it contains. But wait until we reach the Arctic Ocean; wait until the winter shuts us in with its gigantic icebergs and thick covering of snow; wait till the northern storms break over us, and the glories of the Aurora Borealis and of the splendid constellations of the Polar skies are spread out above our heads; wait till we have lived through the strange long six months’ night, and then indeed you will understand the infinite variety, the infinite beauty, of our Creator’s handiwork!”
Thus spoke Mrs. Paulina Barnett, carried away by her vivid imagination. She could see nothing but beauty in these deserted regions, with their rigorous climate. Her enthusiasm got the better for the time of her judgment. Her sympathy with nature enabled her to read the touching poetry of the icebound north—the poetry embodied in the Sagas, and sung by the bards of the time of Ossian. But Madge, more matter of fact than her mistress, disguised from herself neither the dangers of an expedition to the Arctic Ocean, nor the sufferings involved in wintering only thirty degrees at the most from the North Pole.
And indeed the most robust had sometimes succumbed to the fatigues, privations, and mental and bodily agonies endured in this severe climate. Jaspar Hobson had not, it is true, to press on to the very highest latitudes of the globe; he had not to reach the pole itself, or to follow in the steps of Parry, Ross, McClure, Kean, Morton, and others. But after once crossing the Arctic Circle, there is little variation in the temperature; it does not increase in coldness in proportion to the elevation reached. Granted that Jaspar Hobson did not think of going beyond the seventieth parallel, we must still remember that Franklin and his unfortunate companions died of cold and hunger before they had penetrated beyond 68° N. lat.
Very different was the talk in the sledge occupied by Mr. and Mrs. Joliffe. Perhaps the gallant Corporal had too often drunk to the success of the expedition on starting; for, strange to say, he was disputing with his little wife. Yes, he was actually contradicting her, which never happened except under extraordinary circumstances!
“No, Mrs. Joliffe,” he was saying, “no, you have nothing to fear. A sledge is not more difficult to guide than a pony-carriage, and the devil take me if I can’t manage a team of dogs!”
“I don’t question your skill,” replied Mrs. Joliffe; “I only ask you not to go so fast. You are in front of the whole caravan now, and I hear Lieutenant Hobson calling out to you to resume your proper place behind.”
“Let him call, Mrs. Joliffe, let him call.”
And the Corporal, urging on his dogs with a fresh cut of the whip, dashed along at still greater speed.
“Take care, Joliffe,” repeated his little wife; “not so fast, we are going down hill.”
“Down hill, Mrs. Joliffe; you call that down hill? why, it’s up hill!”
“I tell you we are going down!” repeated poor Mrs. Joliffe.
“And I tell you we are going up; look how the dogs pull!”
Whoever was right, the dogs became uneasy. The ascent was, in fact, pretty steep; the sledge dashed along at a reckless pace, and was already considerably in advance of the rest of the party. Mr. and Mrs. Joliffe bumped up and down every instant, the surface of the snow became more and more uneven, and the pair, flung first to one side and then to the other, knocked against each other and the sledge, and were horribly bruised and shaken. But the Corporal would listen neither to the advice of his wife nor to the shouts of Lieutenant Hobson. The latter, seeing the danger of this reckless course, urged on his own animals, and the rest of the caravan followed at a rapid pace.
But the Corporal became more and more excited—the speed of his equipage delighted him. He shouted, he gesticulated, and flourished his long whip like an accomplished sportsman.
“Wonderful things these whips!” he cried; “the Eskimo wield them with unrivalled skill!”
“But you are not an Eskimo!” cried Mrs. Joliffe, trying in vain to arrest the arm of her imprudent husband.
“I have heard tell,” resumed the Corporal—“I’ve heard tell that the Eskimo can touch any dog they like in any part, that they can even cut out a bit of one of their ears with the stiff thong at the end of the whip. I am going to try.”
“Don’t try, don’t try, Joliffe!” screamed the poor little woman, frightened out of her wits.
“Don’t be afraid, Mrs. Joliffe, don’t be afraid; I know what I can do. The fifth dog on the right is misbehaving himself;. I will correct him a little!”
But Corporal Joliffe was evidently not yet enough of an Eskimo to be able to manage the whip with its thong four feet longer than the sledge; for it unrolled with an ominous hiss, and rebounding, twisted itself round Corporal Joliffe’s own neck, sending his fur cap into the air, perhaps with one of his ears in it.
At this moment the dogs flung themselves on one side, the sledge was overturned, and the pair were flung into the snow. Fortunately it was thick and soft, so that they escaped unhurt. But what a disgrace for the Corporal! how reproachfully his little wife looked at him, and how stern was the reprimand of Lieutenant Hobson!
The sledge was picked up, but it was decided that henceforth the reins of the dogs, like those of the household, were to be in the hands of Mrs. Joliffe. The crestfallen Corporal was obliged to submit, and the interrupted journey was resumed.
No incident worth mentioning occurred during the next fifteen days. The weather continued favourable, the cold was not too severe, and on the
