Ungava, R. M. Ballantyne [best authors to read .txt] 📗

did the men work almost without intermission, but he and Frank Morton scarce allowed themselves an hour’s repose during the time that the work was going on. Night and day “yo heave ho” of the Jack Tars rang over the water; and the party on shore ran to and fro, from the beach to the store, with bales, kegs, barrels, and boxes on their shoulders. There were blankets and guns, and axes and knives, powder and shot, and beads and awls, and nets and twine. There were kettles of every sort and size; cloth of every hue; capotes of all dimensions, and minute etceteras without end: so that, had it been possible to prevail on the spirits of the ice to carry to the Esquimaux intelligence of the riches contained in the store at Chimo, an overwhelming flood of visitors would speedily have descended on that establishment. But no such messengers could be found—although Bryan asserted positively that more than “wan o’ them” had been seen by him since his arrival; so the traders had nothing for it but to summon patience to their aid and bide their time.

When the work of discharging was completed, and while Stanley and the captain were standing on the beach watching the removal of the last boat-load to the store, the former said to the latter: “Now, captain, I have a favour to request, which is that you and your two mates will dine with me to-morrow. Your men will be the better of a day’s rest after such a long spell of hard work. You could not well get away till the evening of to-morrow at any rate, on account of the tide, and it will be safer and more pleasant to start early on the day after.”

“I shall be most happy,” replied the captain heartily.

“That’s right,” said Stanley. “Dinner will be ready by four o’clock precisely; and give my compliments to your crew, and say that my men will expect them all to dinner at the same hour.”

Ten minutes after this, Stanley entered his private apartment in the fort, which, under the tasteful management of his wife, was beginning to look elegant and comfortable.

“Wife,” said he, “I will order La Roche to send you a box of raisins and an unlimited supply of flour, butter, etcetera, wherewith you will be so kind as to make, or cause to be made—on pain of my utmost displeasure in the event of failure—a plum-pudding large enough to fill the largest sized washing-tub, and another of about quarter that size; both to be ready boiled by four to-morrow afternoon.”

“Sir, your commands shall be obeyed. I suppose you intend to regale the sailors before they leave. Is it not so?”

“You have guessed rightly for once; and take care that you don’t let Eda drown herself in the compost before it is tied up. I must hasten to prepare the men.”

Two minutes later and Stanley stood in the midst of his men, who, having finished their day’s work, were now busy with supper in their new house, into which they had but recently moved.

“Lads,” said Stanley, “you have stuck to your work so hard of late that I think it a pity to allow you to fall into lazy habits again. I expect you all to be up by break of day to-morrow.”

“Och! musha!” sighed Bryan, as he laid down his knife and fork with a look of consternation.

“I have invited the ship’s crew,” continued Stanley, “to dine with you before they leave us. As the larder is low just now, you’ll all have to take to the hills for a fresh supply. Make your arrangements as you please, but see that there is no lack of venison and fish. I’ll guarantee the pudding and grog.”

So saying, he turned and left the house, followed by a tremendous cheer.

“Oh! parbleu! vat shall I do?” said La Roche, with a look of affected despair. “I am most dead for vant of sleep already. C’est impossible to cook pour everybody demain. I vill be sure to fall ’sleep over de fire, prehaps fall into him.”

“Och, Losh, Losh, when will ye larn to think nothin’ o’ yoursilf? Ye’ll only have to cook for the bourgeois; but think o’ me! All the min, an’ the ship’s crew to boot!”

The blacksmith concluded by knocking La Roche’s pipe out of his mouth, in the excess of his glee at the prospective feast; after which he begged his pardon solemnly in bad French, and ducked his head to avoid the tin can that was hurled at it by the indignant Frenchman.

At the first streak of dawn the following morning, and long before the sun looked down into the ravines of Ungava, Massan and Dick Prince were seen to issue with noiseless steps from the fort, with their guns on their shoulders, and betake themselves to the mountains. Half an hour later Bryan staggered out of the house, with a bag on his shoulder, scarcely half awake, rubbing his eyes and muttering to himself in a low tone, as he plunged rather than walked into the ravine which led to the first terrace on the mountain.

When the sun rose over the mountain-tops and looked down upon the calm surface of the river, there was not a man remaining in the fort, with the exception of Stanley and Frank, and their active servant La Roche.

A deep calm rested on the whole scene. The sailors of the vessel, having risen to dispatch breakfast, retired to their hammocks again and went to sleep; Stanley, Frank, and their household, were busy within doors; Chimo snored in the sunshine at the front of the fort; and the schooner floated on a sheet of water so placid, that every spar and delicate rope was clearly reflected. Nothing was heard save the soft ripple on the shore, the distant murmur of mountain streams, and, once or twice through the day, the faint reverberation of a fowling-piece.

But as the day advanced, evidences of the approaching feast began to be apparent. Early in the forenoon Massan and Prince returned with heavy loads of venison on their shoulders, and an hour later Bryan staggered into the fort bending under the weight of a well-filled bag of fish. He had been at his favourite fishing quarters in the dark valley, and was dripping wet from head to foot, having fallen, as usual, into the water. Bryan had a happy facility in falling into the water that was quite unaccountable—and rather enviable in warm weather. As the cooking operations were conducted on an extensive scale, a fire was kindled in the open air in the rear of the men’s house; round which fire, in the course of the forenoon, Bryan and La Roche performed feats of agility so extravagant, and apparently so superhuman, that they seemed to involve an element of wickedness from their very intensity. Of course no large dinner ever passed through the ordeal of being cooked without some accidents or misfortunes, more or less. Even in civilised life, where the most intricate appliances are brought to bear on the operation by artistes thoroughly acquainted with their profession, infallibility is not found. It would be unjust, therefore, to expect that two backwoodsmen should be perfectly successful, especially when it is remembered that their branch of the noble science was what might be technically termed plain cookery, the present being their first attempt in the higher branches.

Their first difficulty arose from the larger of the two plum-puddings, which La Roche had compounded under the directions of Mrs Stanley and the superintendence of Edith.

“I say, Losh,” cried Bryan to his companion, whose head was at the moment hid from view in a cloud of steam that ascended from a large pot over which he bent, apparently muttering incantations.

“Vell, fat you want?”

“Faix, and it’s just fat that I don’t want,” said Bryan, pointing, as he spoke, to the large pudding, which, being much too large for the kettle, was standing on the rim thereof like the white ball of foam that caps a tankard of double X. “It’s more nor twice too fat already. The kittle won’t hould it, no how.”

“Oh, stuff him down, dat is de way,” suggested La Roche.

“Stuff it down, avic, an’ what’s to come o’ the wather?” said Bryan.

“Ah! true, dat is perplexible, vraiment.”

At this moment the large pot boiled over and a cloud of scalding steam engulfed the sympathetic Frenchman, causing him to yell with mingled pain and rage as he bounded backwards.

“Musha! but ye’ll come to an early death, Losh, if ye don’t be more careful o’ yer dried-up body.”

“Taisez vous, donc,” muttered his companion, half angrily.

“Taisin’ ye? avic, sorra wan o’ me’s taisin’ ye. But since ye can’t help me out o’ me throubles, I’ll try to help mysilf.”

In pursuance of this noble resolve, Bryan went to the store and fetched from thence another large tin kettle. He then undid the covering of the unwieldy pudding, which he cut into two equal parts, and having squeezed them into two balls, tied them up in the cloth, which he divided for the purpose, and put them into the separate kettles, with the air of a man who had overcome a great difficulty by dint of unfathomable wisdom. It was found, however, that the smaller pudding, intended for Stanley’s table, was also too large for its kettle; but the energetic blacksmith, whose genius was now thoroughly aroused, overcame this difficulty by cutting off several pounds of it, and transferring the pudding thus reduced to the kettle, saying in an undertone as he did so, “There’s more nor enough for the six o’ ye yit, av yer only raisonable in yer appetites.”

But the superfluity of the pudding thus caused became now a new source of trouble to Bryan.

“What’s to be done wid it, Losh? I don’t like to give it to the dogs, an’ it’s too small intirely to make a dumplin’ of.”

“You better heat him raw,” suggested La Roche.

“Faix, an’ I’ve half a mind to; but it would spile my dinner. Hallo! look out for the vainison, Losh.”

“Ah, oui; oh! misere!” cried La Roche, springing over the fire, and giving a turn to the splendid haunch of venison which depended from a wooden tripod in front of the blaze, and, having been neglected for a few minutes, was beginning to singe.

“What have ye in the pot there?” inquired Bryan.

“Von goose, two duck, trois plovre, et von leetle bird—I not know de name of—put him in pour experiment.”

“Very good, Losh; out wid the goose and we’ll cram the bit o’ dumplin’ into him for stuffin’.”

“Ah! superb, excellent,” cried La Roche, laughing, as he lifted out the goose, into which Bryan thrust the mass of superfluous pudding; after which the hole was tied up and the bird re-consigned to the pot.

Everything connected with this dinner was strikingly suggestive of the circumstances under which it was given. The superabundance of venison and wild-fowl; the cooking done in the open air; the absence of women, and the performance of work usually allotted to them by bronzed and stalwart voyageurs; the wild scenery in the midst of which it took place; and the mixture of Irish, English, French, Indian, Esquimau, and compound tones, that fell upon the ear as the busy work went on,—all tended to fill the mind with a feeling of wild romance, and to suggest powerfully the idea of being, if we may so express it, far, far away! As the proceedings advanced towards completion, this feeling was rather increased than removed.

Tables and chairs were a luxury that still remained to be introduced at Fort Chimo, when the men found leisure from more urgent duties to construct them. Therefore the dining-table in Stanley’s hall was composed of three large packing-cases turned bottom up. There was no cloth wherewith to cover its rough boards; but this was a matter of little importance to the company which assembled round it, punctually at the hour of four. In place of