Ungava | Page 4

overwhelmed him on his
first arrival was strong upon him, he sighed deeply, and called it a
"horrid dull hole." But Frank was of a gay, hearty, joyous disposition,
and had not been there long ere he loved the old fort dearly. Poor
fellow! far removed though he was from his fellow-men at Moose, he
afterwards learned that he had but obtained an indistinct notion of the
signification of the word "solitude."
There were probably about thirty human beings at Moose, when Mr
George Stanley, one of the principal fur-traders of the place, received
orders from the governor to make preparations, and select men, for the
purpose of proceeding many hundred miles deeper into the northern
wilderness, and establishing a station on the distant, almost unknown,
shores of Ungava Bay. No one at Moose had ever been there before; no
one knew anything about the route, except from the vague report of a
few Indians; and the only thing that was definitely known about the
locality at all was, that its inhabitants were a few wandering tribes of
Esquimaux, who were at deadly feud with the Indians, and generally
massacred all who came within their reach. What the capabilities of the
country were, in regard to timber and provisions, nobody knew, and,
fortunately for the success of the expedition, nobody cared! At least
those who were to lead the way did not; and this admirable quality of
total indifference to prospective dangers is that which, to a great extent,
insures success in a forlorn hope.
Of the leaders of this expedition the reader already knows something.

George Stanley was nearly six feet high, forty years of age, and endued
with a decision of character that, but for his quiet good humour, would
have been deemed obstinacy. He was deliberate in all his movements,
and exercised a control over his feelings that quite concealed his
naturally enthusiastic disposition. Moreover, he was married, and had a
daughter of ten years of age. This might be thought a disadvantage in
his present circumstances; but the governor of the fur-traders, a most
energetic and active ruler, thought otherwise. He recommended that the
family should be left at Moose until an establishment had been built,
and a winter passed at Ungava. Afterwards they could join him there.
As for Frank Morton, he was an inch taller than his friend Stanley, and
equally powerful; fair-haired, blue-eyed, hilarious, romantic,
twenty-two years of age, and so impulsive that, on hearing of the
proposed expedition from one of his comrades, who happened to be
present when Stanley was reading the dispatches, he sprang from his
chair, which he upset, dashed out at the door, which he banged, and
hurried to his friend's quarters in order to be first to volunteer his
services as second in command; which offer was rendered unnecessary
by Stanley's exclaiming, the moment he entered his room--
"Ha, Frank, my lad, the very man I wanted to see! Here's a letter from
headquarters ordering me off on an expedition to Ungava. Now, I want
volunteers; will you go!"
It is needless to add that Frank's blue eyes sparkled with animation as
he seized his friend's hand and replied, "To the North Pole if you like,
or farther if need be!"
It was evening. The sun was gilding the top of the flagstaff with a
parting kiss, and the inhabitants of Moose Fort, having finished their
daily toil, were making preparations for their evening meal. On the end
of the wharf that jutted out into the stream was assembled a picturesque
group of men, who, from the earnest manner in which they conversed,
and the energy of their gesticulations, were evidently discussing a
subject of more than ordinary interest. Most of them were clad in
corduroy trousers, gartered below the knee with thongs of deer-skin,
and coarse, striped cotton shirts, open at the neck, so as to expose their

sunburnt breasts. A few wore caps which, whatever might have been
their original form, were now so much soiled and battered out of shape
by long and severe service that they were nondescript; but most of
these hardy backwoodsmen were content with the covering afforded by
their thick, bushy locks.
"No, no," exclaimed a short, thick-set, powerful man, with a somewhat
ascetic cast of countenance; "I've seen more than enough o' these
rascally Huskies [Esquimaux]. 'Tis well for me that I'm here this
blessed day, an' not made into a dan to bob about in Hudson's Straits at
the tail of a white whale, like that poor boy Peter who was shot by them
varmints."
"What's a dan?" asked a young half-breed who had lately arrived at
Moose, and knew little of Esquimau implements.
"What a green-horn you must be, Francois, not to know what a dan is!"
replied another,