Hudson Bay

“Come away, gentlemen,” said Mr Grave, as we entered the room and approached the stove where he stood, smiling with that benign expression of countenance peculiar to stout, good-natured gentlemen at this season, and at this particular hour. “Your walk must have sharpened your appetites; sit down, sit down. This way, doctor—sit near me; find a place, Mr Ballantyne, beside your friend Crusty there; take the foot, Mr Wilson;” and amid a shower of such phrases we seated ourselves and began.

At the top of the table sat Mr Grave, indistinctly visible through the steam that rose from the wild-goose before him. On his right and left sat the doctor and the accountant; and down from them sat the skipper, four clerks, and Mr Wilson, whose honest face beamed with philanthropic smiles at the foot of the table. Loud were the mirth and fun that reigned on this eventful day within the walls of the highly decorated room at York Factory. Bland was the expression of Mr Grave’s face when he asked each of the young clerks to drink wine with him in succession; and great was the confidence which thereby inspired the said clerks, prompting them to the perpetration of several rash and unparalleled pieces of presumption—such as drinking wine with each other (an act of free-will on their part almost unprecedented), and indulging in sundry sly pieces of covert humour, such as handing the vinegar to each other when the salt was requested, and becoming profusely apologetic upon discovering their mistake. But the wildest storm is often succeeded by the greatest calm, and the most hilarious mirth by the most solemn gravity. In the midst of our fun Mr Grave proposed a toast. Each filled a bumper, and silence reigned around while he raised his glass and said, “Let us drink to absent friends.” We each whispered, “Absent friends,” and set our glasses down in silence, while our minds flew back to the scenes of former days, and we mingled again in spirit with our dear, dear friends at home. How different the mirth of the loved ones there, circling round the winter hearth, from that of the men seated round the Christmas table in the Nor’-West wilderness I question very much if this toast was ever drunk with a more thorough appreciation of its melancholy import than upon the present memorable occasion. Our sad feelings, however, were speedily put to flight, and our gravity routed, when the skipper, with characteristic modesty, proposed, “The ladies;” which toast we drank with a hearty good-will, although, indeed, the former included them, inasmuch as they also were absent friends—the only one within two hundred and fifty miles of us being Mr Grave’s wife.

What a magical effect ladies have upon the male sex, to be sure! Although hundreds of miles distant from an unmarried specimen of the species, upon the mere mention of their name there was instantly a perceptible alteration for the better in the looks of the whole party. Mr Wilson unconsciously arranged his hair a little more becomingly, as if his ladye-love were actually looking at him; and the skipper afterwards confessed that his heart had bounded suddenly out of his breast, across the snowy billows of the Atlantic, and come smash down on the wharf at Plymouth Dock, where he had seen the last wave of Nancy’s checked cotton neckerchief as he left the shores of Old England.

Just as we had reached the above climax, the sound of a fiddle struck upon our ears, and reminded us that our guests who had been invited to the ball were ready; so, emptying our glasses, we left the dining-room, and adjourned to the hall.

Here a scene of the oddest description presented itself. The room was lit up by means of a number of tallow candles, stuck in tin sconces round the walls. On benches and chairs sat the Orkneymen and Canadian half-breeds of the establishment, in their Sunday jackets and capotes; while here and there the dark visage of an Indian peered out from among their white ones. But round the stove—which had been removed to one side to leave space for the dancers—the strangest group was collected. Squatting down on the floor, in every ungraceful attitude imaginable, sat about a dozen Indian women, dressed in printed calico gowns, the chief peculiarity of which was the immense size of the balloon-shaped sleeves, and the extreme scantiness, both in length and width, of the skirts. Coloured handkerchiefs covered their heads, and ornamented moccasins decorated their feet; besides which, each one wore a blanket in the form of a shawl, which they put off before standing up to dance. They were chatting and talking to each other with great volubility, occasionally casting a glance behind them, where at least half a dozen infants stood bolt upright in their tight-laced cradles. On a chair, in a corner near the stove, sat a young, good-looking Indian, with a fiddle of his own making beside him. This was our Paganini; and beside him sat an Indian boy with a kettle-drum, on which he tapped occasionally, as if anxious that the ball should begin.

All this flashed upon our eyes; but we had not much time for contemplating it, as, the moment we entered, the women simultaneously rose, and coming modestly forward to Mr Wilson, who was the senior of the party, saluted him, one after another! I had been told that this was a custom of the ladies on Christmas Day, and was consequently not quite unprepared to go through the ordeal. But when I looked at the superhuman ugliness of some of the old ones—when I gazed at the immense, and in some cases toothless, chasms that were pressed to my senior’s lips, and that gradually, like a hideous nightmare, approached towards me—and when I reflected that these same mouths might have, in former days, demolished a few children—my courage forsook me, and I entertained for a moment the idea of bolting. The doctor seemed to labour under the same disinclination as myself; for when they advanced to him, he refused to bend his head, and, being upwards of six feet high, they of course were obliged to pass him. They looked, however, so much disappointed at this, and withal so very modest, that I really felt for them, and prepared to submit to my fate with the best grace possible. A horrible old hag advanced towards me, the perfect embodiment of a nightmare, with a fearful grin on her countenance. I shut my eyes. Suddenly a bright idea flashed across my mind: I stooped down, with apparent goodwill, to salute her; but just as our lips were about to meet, I slightly jerked up my head, and she kissed my chin. Oh, happy thought! They were all quite satisfied, and attributed the accident, no doubt, to their own clumsiness—or to mine!

This ceremony over, we each chose partners, the fiddle struck up, and the ball began. Scotch reels were the only dances known by the majority of the guests, so we confined ourselves entirely to them.

The Indian women afforded us a good deal of amusement during the evening. Of all ungraceful beings, they are the most ungraceful; and of all accomplishments, dancing is the one in which they shine least. There is no rapid motion of the feet, no lively expression of the countenance; but with a slow, regular, up-and-down motion, they stalk through the figure with extreme gravity. They seemed to enjoy it amazingly, however, and scarcely allowed the poor fiddler a moment’s rest during the whole evening.

Between eleven and twelve o’clock our two tables were put together, and spread with several towels; thus forming a pretty respectable supper-table, which would have been perfect, had not the one part been three inches higher than the other. On it was placed a huge dish of cold venison, and a monstrous iron kettle of tea. This, with sugar, bread, and a lump of salt butter, completed the entertainment to which the Indians sat down. They enjoyed it very much—at least, so I judged from the rapid manner in which the viands disappeared, and the incessant chattering and giggling kept up at intervals. After all were satisfied, the guests departed in a state of great happiness; particularly the ladies, who tied up the remnants of their supper in their handkerchiefs, and carried them away.

Before concluding the description of our Christmas doings, I may as well mention a circumstance which resulted from the effects of the ball, as it shows in a curious manner the severity of the climate at York Factory. In consequence of the breathing of so many people in so small a room for such a length of time, the walls had become quite damp, and ere the guests departed moisture was trickling down in many places. During the night this moisture was frozen, and on rising the following morning I found, to my astonishment, that Bachelors’ Hall was apparently converted into a palace of crystal. The walls and ceiling were thickly coated with beautiful minute crystalline flowers, not sticking flat upon them, but projecting outwards in various directions, thus giving the whole apartment a cheerful, light appearance, quite indescribable. The moment our stove was heated, however, the crystals became fluid, and ere long evaporated, leaving the walls exposed in all their original dinginess.

Winter passed away; but not slowly, or by degrees. A winter of so long duration could not be expected to give up its dominion without a struggle. In October it began, and in November its empire was established. During December, January, February, March, and April it reigned unmolested, in steadfast bitterness; enclosing in its icy bands, and retaining in torpid frigidity, the whole inanimate and vegetable creation. But in May its powerful enemy, caloric, made a decided attack upon the empire, and dealt hoary Winter a stunning blow.

About the beginning of April a slight thaw occurred, the first that had taken place since the commencement of winter; but this was speedily succeeded by hard frost, which continued till the second week in May, when thaw set in so steadily that in a few days the appearance of the country entirely changed.

On the 12th of May, Hayes River, which had been covered for nearly eight months with a coat of ice upwards of six feet thick, gave way before the floods occasioned by the melting snow; and all the inmates of the fort rushed out to the banks upon hearing the news that the river was going. On reaching the gate, the sublimity of the spectacle that met our gaze can scarcely be imagined. The noble river, here nearly two miles broad, was entirely covered with huge blocks and jagged lumps of ice, rolling and dashing against each other in chaotic confusion, as the swelling floods heaved them up and swept them with irresistible force towards Hudson Bay. In one place, where the masses were too closely packed to admit of violent collision, they ground against each other with a slow but powerful motion that curled their hard edges up like paper, till the smaller lumps, unable to bear the pressure, were ground to powder, and with a loud crash the rest hurried on to renew the struggle elsewhere, while the ice above, whirling swiftly round in the clear space thus formed, as if delighted at its sudden release, hurried onwards. In another place, where it was not so closely packed, a huge lump suddenly grounded on a shallow; and in a moment the rolling masses, which were hurrying towards the sea with the velocity of a cataract, were precipitated against it with a noise like thunder, and the tremendous pressure from above forcing block upon block with a loud hissing noise, raised, as if by magic, an icy castle in the air, which, ere its pinnacles had pointed for a second to the sky, fell with stunning violence into the boiling flood from whence it rose. In a short time afterwards the mouth of the river became so full of ice that it stuck there, and in less than an hour the water rose ten or fifteen feet, nearly to a level with the top of the bank. In this state it continued for a week; and then, about the end of May, the whole floated quietly out to sea, and the cheerful river gurgled along its bed with many a curling eddy and watery dimple rippling its placid face, as if it smiled to think of having overcome its powerful enemy, and at length burst its prison walls.

Although the river was free, many a sign of winter yet remained around our forest home. The islands in the middle of the stream were covered with masses of ice, many of which were piled up to a height of twenty or thirty feet. All along the banks, too, it was strewn thickly; while in the woods snow still lay in many places several feet deep. In time, however, these last evidences of the mighty power of winter gave way before the warm embraces of spring. Bushes and trees began to bud, gushing rills to flow, frogs to whistle in the swamp, and ducks to sport upon the river, while the hoarse cry of the wild-goose, the whistling wings of teal, and all the other sounds and cries of the long-absent inhabitants of the marshes, gave life and animation to the scene.

Often has nature been described as falling asleep in the arms of winter, and awaking at the touch of spring; but nowhere is this simile so strikingly illustrated as in these hyperborean climes, where, for eight long, silent months, nature falls into a slumber so deep and unbroken that death seems a fitter simile than sleep, and then bursts into a life so bright, so joyous, so teeming with animal and vegetable vitality, and, especially when contrasted with her previous torpidity, so noisy, that awakening from sleep gives no adequate idea of the change.

Now was the time that our guns were cleaned with peculiar care, and regarded with a sort of brotherly affection. Not that we despised the sports of winter, but we infinitely preferred those of spring.

Young Crusty and I were inseparable companions; we had slept in the same room, hunted over the same ground, and scribbled at the same desk during the whole winter, and now we purchased a small hunting canoe from an Indian, for the purpose of roaming about together in spring. Our excursions were always amusing; and, as a description of one of them may perhaps prove interesting to the reader, I shall narrate:—

A Canoe Excursion on the Shores of Hudson Bay

It is needless to say that the day we chose was fine; that the sun shone brightly; that the curling eddies of the river smiled sweetly; that the jagged pinnacles of the blocks of ice along shore which had not yet melted sparkled brilliantly; that the fresh green foliage of the trees contrasted oddly with these white masses; that Crusty and I shouldered our canoe between us, after having placed our guns, etcetera, in it, and walked lightly down to the river bank under our burden. It is needless, I say, to describe all this minutely, as it would be unnecessary waste of pen, ink, and paper. It is sufficient to say that we were soon out in the middle of the stream, floating gently down the current towards the Point of Marsh, which was to be the scene of our exploits.

The day was indeed beautiful, and so very calm and still that the glassy water reflected every little cloud in the sky; and on the seaward horizon everything was quivering and magically turned upside down—islands, trees, icebergs, and all! A solitary gull, which stood not far off upon a stone, looked so preposterously huge from the same atmospherical cause, that I would have laughed immoderately, had I had energy to do so; but I was too much wrapped in placid enjoyment of the scene to give way to boisterous mirth. The air was so calm that the plaintive cries of thousands of wildfowl which covered the Point of Marsh struck faintly on our ears. “Ah!” thought I—But I need not say what I thought. I grasped my powder-flask and shook it; it was full—crammed full! I felt my shot-belt; it was fat, very fat, bursting with shot! Our two guns lay side by side, vying in brightness; their flints quite new and sharp, and standing up in a lively wide-awake sort of way, as much as to say, “If you do not let me go, I’ll go bang off by myself!” Happiness is sometimes too strong to be enjoyed quietly; and Crusty and I, feeling that we could keep it down no longer, burst simultaneously into a yell that rent the air, and, seizing the paddles, made our light canoe spring over the water, while we vented our feelings in a lively song, which reaching the astonished ears of the afore-mentioned preposterously large gull, caused its precipitate departure.

In half an hour we reached the point; dragged the canoe above high-water mark; shouldered our guns, and, with long strides, proceeded over the swamp in search of game.

We had little doubt of having good sport, for the whole point away to the horizon was teeming with ducks and plover. We had scarcely gone a hundred yards ere a large widgeon rose from behind a bush, and Crusty, who was in advance, brought it down. As we plodded on, the faint cry of a wild-goose caused us to squat down suddenly behind a neighbouring bush, from which retreat we gazed round to see where our friends were. Another cry from behind attracted our attention; and far away on the horizon we saw a large flock of geese flying in a mathematically correct triangle. Now, although far out of shot, and almost out of sight, we did not despair of getting one of these birds; for, by imitating their cry, there was a possibility of attracting them towards us. Geese often answer to a call in this way, if well imitated; particularly in spring, as they imagine that their friends have found a good feeding-place, and wish them to alight. Knowing this, Crusty and I continued in our squatting position—utterly unmindful, in the excitement of the moment, of the fact that the water of the swamp lay in the same proximity to our persons as a chair does when we sit down on it—and commenced to yell and scream vociferously in imitation of geese; for which, doubtless, many people unacquainted with our purpose would have taken us. At first our call seemed to make no impression on them; but gradually they bent into a curve, and, sweeping round in a long circle, came nearer to us, while we continued to shout at the top of our voices. How they ever mistook our bad imitation of the cry for the voices of real geese, I cannot tell—probably they thought we had colds or sore throats; at any rate they came nearer and nearer, screaming to us in return, till at last they ceased to flap their wings, and sailed slowly over the bush behind which we were ensconced, with their long necks stretched straight out, and their heads a little to one side, looking down for their friends. Upon discovering their mistake, and beholding two human beings instead of geese within a few yards of them, the sensation created among them was tremendous, and the racket they kicked up in trying to fly from us was terrific; but it was too late. The moment we saw that they had discovered us, our guns poured forth their contents, and two out of the flock fell with a lumbering smash upon the ground, while a third went off wounded, and, after wavering in its flight for a little, sank slowly to the ground.

Having bagged our game, we proceeded, and ere long filled our bags with ducks, geese, and plover. Towards the afternoon we arrived at a tent belonging to an old Indian called Morris. With this dingy gentleman we agreed to dine, and accordingly bent our steps towards his habitation. Here we found the old Indian and his wife squatting down on the floor and wreathed in smoke, partly from the wood-fire which burned in the middle of the tent, and partly from the tobacco-pipes stuck in their respective mouths. Old Morris was engaged in preparing a kettle of pea-soup, in which were boiled several plover and a large white owl; which latter, when lifted out of the pot, looked so very like a skinned baby that we could scarcely believe they were not guilty of cannibalism. His wife was engaged in ornamenting a pair of moccasins with dyed quills. On our entrance, the old man removed his pipe, and cast an inquiring glance into the soup-kettle; this apparently gave him immense satisfaction, as he turned to us with a smiling countenance, and remarked (for he could speak capital English, having spent the most of his life near York Factory) that “duck plenty, but he too hold to shoot much; obliged to heat howl.” This we agreed was uncommonly hard, and after presenting him with several ducks and a goose, proposed an inspection of the contents of the kettle, which being agreed to, we demolished nearly half of the soup, and left him and his wife to “heat” the “howl.”

After resting an hour with this hospitable fellow, we departed, to prepare our encampment ere it became dark, as we intended passing the night in the swamps, under our canoe. Near the tent we passed a fox-trap set on the top of a pole, and, on inquiring, found that this was the machine in which old Morris caught his “howls.” The white owl is a very large and beautiful bird, sometimes nearly as large as a swan. I shot one which measured five feet three inches across the wings, when expanded. They are in the habit of alighting upon the tops of blighted trees, and poles of any kind, which happen to stand conspicuously apart from the forest trees—for the purpose, probably, of watching for mice and little birds, on which they prey. Taking advantage of this habit, the Indian plants his trap on the top of a bare tree, so that when the owl alights it is generally caught by the legs.

Our walk back to the place where we had left the canoe was very exhausting, as we had nearly tired ourselves out before thinking of returning. This is very often the case with eager sportsmen, as they follow the game till quite exhausted, and only then it strikes them that they have got as long a walk back as they had in going out. I recollect this happening once to myself. I had walked so far away into the forest after wild-fowl, that I forgot time and distance in the ardour of the pursuit, and only thought of returning when quite knocked up. The walk back was truly wretched. I was obliged to rest every ten minutes, as, besides being tired, I became faint from hunger. On the way I stumbled on the nest of a plover, with one egg in it. This was a great acquisition; so seating myself on a stone, I made my dinner of it raw. Being very small, it did not do me much good, but it inspired me with courage; and, making a last effort, I reached the encampment in a very unenviable state of exhaustion.

After an hour’s walk, Crusty and I arrived at the place where we left the canoe.

Our first care was to select a dry spot whereon to sleep, which was not an easy matter in such a swampy place. We found one at last, however, under the shelter of a small willow bush. Thither we dragged the canoe, and turned it bottom up, intending to creep in below it when we retired to rest. After a long search on the sea-shore, we found a sufficiency of driftwood to make a fire, which we carried up to the encampment, and placed in a heap in front of the canoe. This was soon kindled by means of a flint and steel, and the forked flames began in a few minutes to rise and leap around the branches, throwing the swampy point into deeper shadow, making the sea look cold and black, and the ice upon its surface ghost-like. The interior of our inverted canoe looked really quite cheerful and snug, under the influence of the fire’s rosy light. And when we had spread our blankets under it, plucked and cleaned two of the fattest ducks, and stuck them on sticks before the blaze to roast, we agreed that there were worse things in nature than an encampment in the swamps.

Ere long the night became pitchy dark; but although we could see nothing, yet ever and anon the whistling wings of ducks became audible, as they passed in flocks overhead. So often did they pass in this way, that at last I was tempted to try to get a shot at them, notwithstanding the apparent hopelessness of such an attempt. Seizing my gun, and leaving strict injunctions with Crusty to attend to the roasting of my widgeon, I sallied forth, and, after getting beyond the light of the fire, endeavoured to peer through the gloom. Nothing was to be seen, however. Flocks of ducks were passing quite near, for I heard their wings whizzing as they flew, but they were quite invisible; so at last, becoming tired of standing up to my knees in water, I pointed my gun at random at the next flock that passed, and fired. After the shot, I listened intently for a few seconds, and the next moment a splash in the water apprised me that the shot had taken effect. After a long search I found the bird, and returned to my friend Crusty, whom I threw into a state of consternation by pitching the dead duck into his lap as he sat winking and rubbing his hands before the warm blaze.

Supper in these out-of-the-way regions is never long in the eating, and on the present occasion we finished it very quickly, being both hungry and fatigued. That over, we heaped fresh logs upon the fire, wrapped our green blankets round us, and nestling close together, as much underneath our canoe as possible, courted the drowsy god. In this courtship I was unsuccessful for some time, and lay gazing on the flickering flames of the watch-fire, which illuminated the grass of the marsh a little distance round, and listening, in a sort of dreamy felicity, to the occasional cry of a wakeful plover, or starting suddenly at the flapping wings of a huge owl, which, attracted by the light of our fire, wheeled slowly round, gazing on us in a kind of solemn astonishment, till, scared by the sounds that proceeded from Crusty’s nasal organ, it flew with a scream into the dark night air; and again all was silent save the protracted, solemn, sweeping boom of the distant waves, as they rolled at long intervals upon the sea-shore. During the night we were awakened by a shower of rain falling upon our feet and as much of our legs as the canoe was incapable of protecting. Pulling them up more under shelter, at the expense of exposing our knees and elbows—for the canoe could not completely cover us—we each gave a mournful grunt, and dropped off again.