Chapter XXVII
A still small voice spoke unto me,
“Thou art so full of misery,
Were it not better not to be!”
Then to the still small voice I said,
“Let me not cast in endless shade
What is so wonderfully made.” TENNYSON.
“Nestling close to a rock, from the side of which the snow formed an arch, we found some moss, which we ate with avidity, and then some sprigs of savine, which generally grows in the clefts of the rocks all over the island and the Labrador coast, yielding the berry from which the spruce beer is made. With tears of thankfulness we devoured them, and were surmising what had become of Urbain, when about nine o’clock by the captain’s watch he appeared, but without Scotch Willy, who had, he said, died about an hour ago, and been buried by him among the snow.
“‘Where?’ asked the captain, in a low voice, for Dacres, and two others of our famine-stricken band, were in a dying condition.
“‘Did you observe an old peeled trunk of a tree about a mile distant?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘Très bien—I buried him there,’ replied Urbain, whose voice sounded strong and full compared with what it was some hours ago. Captain Benson remarked this, and said—
“‘You have hunted and found something to eat?’
“‘Tonnerre de ciel! Beelzebub—no. I left my gun with you.’
“True; did poor little Willy die easily?” I asked.
“‘I wish we may all die so easily,’ replied Urbain, with an impatient oath, as he crept close to me for warmth, causing me, I know not why, to shudder.
“I scarcely slept that night, though our snow cell was not destitute of heat; but vague suspicions and solid terrors kept me wakeful. Willy’s sudden death appalled me; and something in the bearing and aspect of Urbain filled me with dreadful conjectures, which, in the morning, I communicated only to Bob Jenner.
“At dawn we found Tom Dacres dead, and two others dying; to leave the latter would have been inhuman; the poor fellows were quite collected, shook hands with us all round, shared their tobacco among us equally, and while we all smoked for warmth, the captain repeated the Lord’s Prayer. After which, Jenner and I took our guns and went forth to explore. With tacit but silent consent, we went straight to the old bare skeleton tree. The snow around it was frozen hard, and was pure, spotless, and untrodden, as when it fell some days before; so Urbain had told a falsehood, and little Willy was not buried there. For a little sustenance we now sucked the rags with which we oiled our guns, and looked about us, tracing back our trail of the preceding evening a little way.
“Suddenly we came upon the footmarks of Urbain, which diverged at an acute angle from our several tracks, and those we followed for about three hundred yards, to where a great rock rose abruptly from the snow, which was all disturbed and discoloured about its base—discoloured, and by—blood.
“Bob Jenner and I looked blankly at each other, and cold as our own blood was, it seemed to grow colder still. There, in that awful solitude of vast and snowy prairies, dwarf forests, unexplored lakes, and untrodden land, a terrible tragedy had too surely been acted. He had killed the boy—but why? Removing the snow with the butts of our guns, a white man’s hand appeared, an arm, and then we drew forth the dead body of little Willy Ormiston. It had a strange and unnaturally emaciated aspect. A livid bruise was on the right temple, and there was a wound, a singular perforation under the right ear. These were all we could discover at first; but there was much blood upon the snow around, and on the poor boy’s tattered clothing. Then a groan escaped us both, when we found that his left sleeve had been ripped up, and that a great piece of the arm was wanting, from the elbow to the shoulder, having been sliced off literally and close to the bone.
“‘A strange mutilation!’ said I, while my teeth chattered with dismay, and I evaded putting my thoughts in words. ‘If wolves——’
“‘Wolves never did this,’ replied Jenner in a husky voice; ‘but a knife has been used.’
“‘You mean—you mean——’
“‘Look ye, shipmate, at that round wound in the neck.’
“‘Well?’
“‘After stunning him by a blow, Urbain Gautier has punctured the boy’s throat, and sucked his blood, like a weazel or a vampire, or some such thing, and ended actually by cutting a slice from his arm!’
“The whole details of this act of horror seemed but too complete, and gradually we were compelled to accept the fact, the more so when I recalled his strange remark of the preceding evening. We became sick and giddy; the white landscape swam round and round us, and while covering up the remains with snow we fell repeatedly with excess of weakness, and then returned to the little thicket—returned slowly, to find that our band was lessened by three, for in addition to Tom Dacres, two other poor fellows had just breathed their last. Urbain’s fierce black eyes questioned us in stern silence as we approached.
“‘Did you find the boy?’ asked Captain Benson, who had been singeing the hair off a fur cap of Dacres, and cutting it into strips for us to chew, which we did thankfully.
“‘Yes, he is dead. Let us think no more of it at present,’ said I.
“Black fury gathered in Urbain’s sombre visage as we came close to him, and he growled out—‘I buried him at the foot of the old tree, shipmate; so, diable! say what you like, or that which is safer, think what you like.’
“I was too weak to resent this, or to confront him, and so turned away. The captain divided some of the dead men’s clothes among us, but these Urbain declined to share, or in the strips of scorched fur, for his strength seemed to have been completely renovated during the night; and after covering our poor companions with snow, we again set forth wearily towards the south-east, and, weak though, we were, we cast many a backward glance to the thicket where our three dead shipmates lay side by side. About noon a covey of white winter grouse were near us; we all fired at once. Whether it was that we were bad shots, that our hands were weak, that our eyes miscalculated the distance, or our aim wavered, I know not, but every bird escaped, and with moans of despair we reloaded. Then, to add to our troubles, it was found that only three of us, to wit, the captain, Urbain, and myself, had dry powder left. On and on yet to the south-east, through the blinding and trackless waste of snow!
“In a place where a grey scalp of rock was almost bare of drifted snow we found the skeleton of a cariboo deer. It was pure white, and coated with crystal frost. Wolfishly we eyed it, as if we would have sucked the dry bones that several winters, perhaps, had bleached, for not a vestige even of skin remained on them. Those whose ammunition failed them, now cast away their guns and powder-horns as useless incumbrances. We were all reduced to shadows, and two had to support their bending forms on walking-sticks. Even our jolly captain was becoming quite feeble, and the despondency of settled despair was creeping over us all.
“Urbain alone seemed hale, and stepped steadily, when others fell ever and anon in utter weakness. There were times when I surveyed his vast bulk, which loomed greater to my diseased eyesight, and I thought we had the foul fiend himself journeying with us in the form of a man.
“What if all should perish—all but he and me? On we toiled towards another thicket, where we proposed to search for roots or moss, on which to make a meal, and to light a fire, for evening was approaching; and now it was that Urbain seated himself on a piece of rock, swearing that he would proceed no farther then, but would rejoin us in the thicket. Captain Benson was too weak, or cared too little about him, to remonstrate, so we passed on in silence to our halting place, where, most providentially, we found some juniper bushes, which the snow had preserved, and some soft fir bark, which we devoured greedily. Refreshed by this, we lighted a fire by means of some gunpowder and a percussion cap, and heaped the branches on it. A bird or two twittered past; I fired mechanically—almost without aim—and was lucky enough to knock over a large-sized pigeon-eagle, which was speedily divided and devoured, half broiled, ere we thought that the feathers only had been left for Urbain, of whose guilt Bob and I had informed our shipmates, that all might be on their guard, and our narrative added to their sufferings, for now we all feared to sleep, and had to cast lots for a watcher.
“About dawn he returned, and when we all set forth again, though we had been renovated by the heat of our fire and by the savage meal we had made, he seemed, as usual, the freshest among us, and on this day we observed, in whispers to each other, that he wore round his neck a red-spotted handkerchief which we had left tied over the face of Tom Dacres!
“He must have gone back to the thicket where the three dead men lay, but for what purpose?
“About noon on this day we found ourselves on the summit of a mountainous ridge of bare rock; it was without snow, which, however, lay drifted deep around. It commanded an extensive view so far as from the borders of the great Unexplored Lake on our right, to the head of Smith’s Sound on our left.
“There was no sign of a human habitation to be seen, and our eyes swept in vain the horizon, where the white snow and blue sky met, for a smoke-wreath indicating where a squatter’s cabin stood.
“‘Malediction!’ said Urbain, hoarsely, ‘if this continues I shall have something to eat, bon gré malgré!—if it should be the flesh of a man. You seem shocked mate,’ said he to me, as I shrank back.
“‘I am shocked,’ said, I, quietly.
“‘Well—diable! don’t be so,’ he replied, mockingly, ‘because it is wonderful truly what you may bring your mind to, if you put your courage to the test, and place yourself en visage with your fate like a man.’
“‘Or a devil—eh, Urbain Gautier?’ said Captain Benson; ‘but no more of this, or——’
“‘Don’t threaten me, mon petit capitaine—my nice little man,’ interrupted the giant, with a horrible grimace, ‘or——’ and pausing, he laid his hand significantly on his knife.
“Urbain now became surly, insolent, and ferocious; but knowing his singular strength, which failed less than ours, and knowing the secret, the loathsome and terrible means by which he maintained it—aware also that he had plenty of ammunition—we dissembled alike our fears, our suspicions, and our abhorrence of him.
“After we had toiled on for two hours in silence, he suddenly stopped us all by an oath.
“‘Nombril de Belzebub!’ he exclaimed to Captain Benson, ’what is the use of looking for food or game in these infernal wastes, into which your stupidity has led us? Let us cast lots, and find out who shall be shot for the food of the rest!’
“‘Silence, wretch,’ said Captain Benson.
“‘To that it will come at last,’ said Urbain, grinning.
“‘Perhaps it has come to it already,’ said Bob Jenner, unwisely.
“‘Ah, sacré! You think I murdered that boy, do you? And you think so, too?’ he added to me.
“‘I have not said so,’ I replied, evasively.
“‘You had better not, or by ——, if you thought me capable of committing such an act, or if you said it——’ and so on he rambled incoherently, threatening and bullying; but all the while most surely confirming our just suspicions.
“‘Let us cut him adrift; leave him behind; if we can do so, to-night,’ whispered Jenner to me.
“Low though the whisper was, it caught the huge ears of Urbain, even while muffled by the lappets of a sealskin cap.
“‘Leave me behind, will you? Well, you may do so; but, diable! I shall not be left without food.’
“About an hour after this we met with a terrible but significant catastrophe. While we were all proceeding in Indian file behind the captain, Urbain stumbled on a piece of slippery ice; he fell, and in doing so, his musket exploded, lodging its contents right in the back of the head of my poor messmate, Bob Jenner, who fell back, and expired without a groan.
“We were appalled by the suddenness of this calamity; all, save Urbain, who rubbed his knees, muttered an oath, and reloaded with all the rapidity of alarm; while each of us read in his neighbour’s face the conviction that there was more of design than accident in what had taken place, though it had all the appearance of a casualty.
“Dissembling still, and having but little time for grief, we covered poor Bob’s remains with snow, and resumed our melancholy march.
“We were but six now, and five of those were famished scarecrows.
“A mile farther on, we found the ruins of a deserted log hut, which we hailed with extravagant joy, as our first approach to civilization, and the abode of human beings. There we resolved to pass the night, which was approaching, and there we kindled a fire, and with blocks of snow filled up the doorway, while the smoke escaped by an aperture in the roof.
“Oh, how genial was the warmth we felt; and though we had only a few fragments of moist bark to chew, we would have felt almost happy, but for the recent catastrophe, and for our dread of Urbain Gautier, who as soon as twilight fell said he would go in search of a shot, and taking his gun went away.
“We breathed more freely when he left us; but we shuddered with intense loathing when we knew that he was returning to the place where our dead companion—too surely murdered by his hand—lay uncoffined in the snow.
“We felt that we were no longer safe with him, and all were conscious that he should die, as a judicial retribution.
“Lots were cast for the dangerous office of executioner, and the fate fell on me.
“Instead of alarm or compunction, I felt as one who had a terrible duty to perform. I became conscious that justice to the dead and to the living, if not my own personal safety, demanded the fulfilment of the terrible task which had become mine, and with the most perfect coolness and deliberation I overhauled my gun, examined the charge, carefully capped it anew, and sleeplessly awaited him I was to destroy—this wretch—this ghoul or vampire, on his return from his horrid repast amid the snow—a repast which his own treachery and cruelty had provided; and as I waited thus the face of poor Willy Ormiston, and the cheery voice of poor Bob Jenner, as I had often heard it, when he sang at the wheel, or when sharing the night-watch, came powerfully and distinctly to memory.
“I threw more dry branches on the fire, and bidding my shipmates sleep, addressed myself to the task of watching, and half dozing, with my weapon beside me.
“I felt sure that Urbain hated me; that he knew I suspected him, and would too probably be his next victim, especially if my shot missed him, as he might then legally slay me, and would do so by a single blow.
“Already I felt my flesh creep at the idea of its furnishing a collop for him, perhaps to-morrow night, when he stole back from the next halting place.
“I shall never forget the weary moments of that exciting night. I have somewhere read that ’it is one of the strange instincts of half slumber to be often more alive to the influence of subdued and stealthy sounds than of louder noises. The slightest whisperings, the low murmurings of a human voice, the creaking of a chair, the cautious drawing back of a curtain, will jar upon and rouse the faculties that have been insensible to the rushing flow of a cataract, or the dull booming of the sea.’
“I must have been asleep, however, when a sound startled me, and I could hear footsteps treading softly over the crisp and frozen snow. Rousing myself, I started to the aperture which passed for a doorway, and which, as I have stated, we had partially blocked up by snow; and through it, about fifty paces distant, I saw the tall dark form of Urbain towering between me and the ghastly white waste beyond. He loomed like a giant in the bright but waning moon, that was sinking behind the hills that are as yet unnamed, while a blood-red streak to the westward showed where the morning was about to break.
“My heart beat fast, every pulse was quickened, and every fibre tingled, as I raised the musket to my shoulder, took a deliberate aim, and, when he was within twenty paces of me, fired, and shot him dead!
“The bullet entered his mouth, and passed out of the base of the skull behind, injuring the brain in its passage, and destroying him instantly.
“So Captain Benson told me, for I never looked on his face again, though I have often seen it since in my dreams.
“About two hours after this summary act of justice we were found and relieved by a travelling party of Indians, Micmacs, who come from the continent of America at times, and domicile themselves chiefly along the western shore of the island, to hunt the beaver by the banks of the Serpentine Lake.
“They conveyed us through the fur country of the Buenoventura people to the miserable little settlement of that name, where we remained till the ice broke up, when we were taken to St. John’s in a seal-fisher.
“There our perils and suffering ended. We had shipped on board different crafts for different countries, and the next year saw me appointed captain of this clipper-ship, the Pride of the Ocean.”*
Notes
* A character not unlike Urbain Gautier figures in the account of the first or second expedition of Sir John Franklin.