[Redactor’s Note: _An Antarctic Mystery_ (Number V046 in the T&Mnumerical listing of Verne’s works, is a translation of _Le Sphinxde Glaces_ (1897) translated by Mrs. Cashel Hoey who also translatedother Verne works. ]

AN

ANTARCTIC MYSTERY

BY

JULES VERNE

TRANSLATED BY MRS. CASHEL HOEY

ILLUSTRATED

1899

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

The _Tasman_ to the rescue frontispiece

The approach of the _Halbrane_ 11

Going aboard the _Halbrane_ 29

Cook’s route was effectively barred by ice floes 83

Taking in sail under difficulties 103

“There, look there! That’s a fin-back!” 117

Hunt to the rescue 127

Four sailors at the oars, and one at the helm 139

Hunt extended his enormous hand, holding a metal collar 161

Dirk Peters shows the way 179

The half-breed in the crow’s nest 189

The _Halbrane_ fast in the iceberg 227

The _Halbrane_, staved in, broken up 253

“I was afraid; I got away from him” 267

William Guy 299

An Antarctic Mystery 321

The Parcuta 329

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter I. The Kerguelen Islands. 

Chapter II. The Schooner _Halbrane_

Chapter III. Captain Len Guy

Chapter IV. From the Kerguelen Isles to Prince Edward Island

Chapter V. Edgar Poe’s Romance

Chapter VI. An Ocean Waif

Chapter VII. Tristan D’Acunha

Chapter VIII. Bound for the Falklands

Chapter IX. Fitting out the _Halbrane_

Chapter X. The Outset of the Enterprise

Chapter XI. From the Sandwich Islands to the Polar Circle

Chapter XII. Between the Polar Circle and the Ice Wall

Chapter XIII. Along the Front of the Icebergs

Chapter XIV. A Voice in a Dream

Chapter XV. Bennet Islet

Chapter XVI. Tsalal Island

Chapter XVII. And Pym

Chapter XVIII. A Revelation

Chapter XIX. Land?

Chapter XX. “Unmerciful Disaster"

Chapter XXI. Amid the Mists

Chapter XXII. In Camp

Chapter XXIII. Found at Last

Chapter XXIV. Eleven Years in a Few Pages

Chapter XXV. “We Were the First"

Chapter XXVI. A Little Remnant

AN ANTARCTIC MYSTERY

(Also called THE SPHINX OF THE ICE FIELDS)

CHAPTER I. THE KERGUELEN ISLANDS

No doubt the following narrative will be received: with entireincredulity, but I think it well that the public should be put inpossession of the facts narrated in “An Antarctic Mystery. ” Thepublic is free to believe them or not, at its good pleasure. 

No more appropriate scene for the wonderful and terrible adventureswhich I am about to relate could be imagined than the DesolationIslands, so called, in 1779, by Captain Cook. I lived there forseveral weeks, and I can affirm, on the evidence of my own eyes andmy own experience, that the famous English explorer and navigatorwas happily inspired when he gave the islands that significant name. 

Geographical nomenclature, however, insists on the name ofKerguelen, which is generally adopted for the group which lies in49° 45’ south latitude, and 69° 6’ east longitude. This isjust, because in 1772, Baron Kerguelen, a Frenchman, was the firstto discover those islands in the southern part of the Indian Ocean. Indeed, the commander of the squadron on that voyage believed thathe had found a new continent on the limit of the Antarctic seas, butin the course of a second expedition he recognized his error. Therewas only an archipelago. I may be believed when I assert thatDesolation Islands is the only suitable name for this group of threehundred isles or islets in the midst of the vast expanse of ocean, which is constantly disturbed by austral storms. 

Nevertheless, the group is inhabited, and the number of Europeansand Americans who formed the nucleus of the Kerguelen population atthe date of the 2nd of August, 1839, had been augmented for twomonths past by a unit in my person. Just then I was waiting for anopportunity of leaving the place, having completed the geologicaland mineralogical studies which had brought me to the group ingeneral and to Christmas Harbour in particular. 

Christmas Harbour belongs to the most important islet of thearchipelago, one that is about half as large as Corsica. It is safe, and easy, and free of access. Your ship may ride securely at singleanchor in its waters, while the bay remains free from ice. 

[Illustration: The approach of the _Halbrane_]

The Kerguelens possess hundreds of other fjords. Their coasts arenotched and ragged, especially in the parts between the north andthe south-east, where little islets abound. The soil, of volcanicorigin, is composed of quartz, mixed with a bluish stone. In summerit is covered with green mosses, grey lichens, various hardy plants, especially wild saxifrage. Only one edible plant grows there, a kindof cabbage, not found anywhere else, and very bitter of flavour. Great flocks of royal and other penguins people these islets, finding good lodging on their rocky and mossy surface. These stupidbirds, in their yellow and white feathers, with their heads thrownback and their wings like the sleeves of a monastic habit, look, ata distance, like monks in single file walking in procession alongthe beach. 

The islands afford refuge to numbers of sea-calves, seals, andsea-elephants. The taking of those amphibious animals either on landor from the sea is profitable, and may lead to a trade which willbring a large number of vessels into these waters. 

On the day already mentioned, I was accosted while strolling on theport by mine host of mine inn. 

“Unless I am much mistaken, time is beginning to seem very long toyou, Mr. Jeorling?”

The speaker was a big tall American who kept the only inn on theport. 

“If you will not be offended, Mr. Atkins, I will acknowledge thatI do find it long. ”

“Of course I won’t be offended. Am I not as well used to answersof that kind as the rocks of the Cape to the rollers?”

“And you resist them equally well. ”

“Of course. From the day of your arrival at Christmas Harbour, when you came to the Green Cormorant, I said to myself that in afortnight, if not in a week, you would have enough of it, and wouldbe sorry you had landed in the Kerguelens. ”

“No, indeed, Mr. Atkins; I never regret anything I have done. ”

“That’s a good habit, sir. ”

“Besides, I have gained knowledge by observing curious thingshere. I have crossed the rolling plains, covered with hard stringymosses, and I shall take away curious mineralogical and geologicalspecimens with me. I have gone sealing, and taken sea-calves withyour people. I have visited the rookeries where the penguin and thealbatross live together in good fellowship, and that was well worthmy while. You have given me now and again a dish of petrel, seasonedby your own hand, and very acceptable when one has a fine healthyappetite. I have found a friendly welcome at the Green Cormorant, and I am very much obliged to you. But, if I am right in myreckoning, it is two months since the Chilian twomaster <i>Penãs</I> setme down at Christmas Harbour in mid-winter. 

“And you want to get back to your own country, which is mine, Mr. Jeorling; to return to Connecticut, to Providence, our capital. ”

“Doubtless, Mr. Atkins, for I have been a globe-trotter for closeupon three years. One must come to a stop and take root at sometime. ”

“Yes, and when one has taken root, one puts out branches. ”

“Just so, Mr. Atkins. However, as I have no relations living, itis likely that I shall be the last of my line. I am not likely totake a fancy for marrying at forty. ”

“Well, well, that is a matter of taste. Fifteen years ago Isettled down comfortably at Christmas Harbour with my Betsy; she haspresented me with ten children, who in their turn will present mewith grandchildren. ”

“You will not return to the old country?”

“What should I do there, Mr. Jeorling, and what could I ever havedone there? There was nothing before me but poverty. Here, on thecontrary, in these Islands of Desolation, where I have no reason tofeel desolate, ease and competence have come to me and mine!”

“No doubt, and I congratulate you, Mr. Atkins, for you are a happyman. Nevertheless it is not impossible that the fancy may take yousome day--”

Mr. Arkins answered by a vigorous and convincing shake of the head. It was very pleasant to hear this worthy American talk. He wascompletely acclimatized on his archipelago, and to the conditions oflife there. He lived with his family as the penguins lived in theirrookeries. His wife was a “valiant” woman of the Scripturaltype, his sons were strong, hardy fellows, who did not know whatsickness meant. His business was prosperous. The Green Cormorant hadthe custom of all the ships, whalers and others, that put in atKerguelen. Atkins supplied them with everything they required, andno second inn existed at Christmas Harbour. His sons werecarpenters, sailmakers, and fishers, and they hunted the amphibiansin all the creeks during the hot season. In short, this was a familyof honest folk who fulfilled their destiny without much difficulty. 

“Once more, Mr. Atkins, let me assure you, ” I resumed, “I amdelighted to have come to Kerguelen. I shall always remember theislands kindly. Nevertheless, I should not be sorry to find myselfat sea again. ”

“Come, Mr. Jeorling, you must have a little patience, ” said thephilosopher, “you must not forget that the fine days will soon behere. In five or six weeks--”

“Yes, and in the meantime, the hills and the plains, the rocks andthe shores will be covered thick with snow, and the sun will nothave strength to dispel the mists on the horizon. ”

“Now, there you are again, Mr. Jeorling! Why, the wild grass isalready peeping through the white sheet! Just look!”

“Yes, with a magnifying glass! Between ourselves, Arkins, couldyou venture to pretend that your bays are not still ice-locked inthis month of August, which is the February of our northernhemisphere?”

“I acknowledge that, Mr. Jeorling. But again I say have patience!The winter has been mild this year. The ships will soon show up, inthe east or in the west, for the fishing season is near. ”

“May Heaven hear you, Atkins, and guide the _Halbrane_ safely intoport. ”

“Captain Len Guy? Ah, he’s a good sailor, although he’sEnglish--there are good people everywhere--and he takes in hissupplies at the Green Cormorant. ”

“You think the _Halbrane_--”

“Will be signalled before a week, Mr. Jeorling, or, if not, itwill be because there is no longer a Captain Len Guy; and if thereis no longer a Captain Len Guy, it is because the _Halbrane_ has sunkin full sail between the Kerguelens and the Cape of Good Hope. ”

Thereupon Mr. Atkins walked away, with a scornful gesture, indicating that such an eventuality was out of all probability. 

My intention was to take my passage on board the _Halbrane_ so soon asshe should come to her moorings in Christmas Harbour. After a restof six or seven days, she would set sail again for Tristand’Acunha, where she was to discharge her cargo of tin and copper. I meant to stay in the island for a few weeks of the fine season, and from thence set out for Connecticut. Nevertheless, I did notfail to take into due account the share that belongs to chance inhuman affairs, for it is wise, as Edgar Poe has said, always “toreckon with the unforeseen, the unexpected, the inconceivable, whichhave a very large share (in those affairs), and chance ought alwaysto be a matter of strict calculation. ”

Each day I walked about the port and its neighbourhood. The sun wasgrowing strong. The rocks were emerging by degrees from their winterclothing of snow; moss of a wine-like colour was springing up on thebasalt cliffs, strips of seaweed fifty yards long were floating onthe sea, and on the plain the lyella, which is of Andean origin, waspushing up its little points, and the only leguminous plant of theregion, that gigantic cabbage already mentioned, valuable for itsanti-scorbutic properties, was making its appearance. 

I had not come across a single land mammal--sea mammals swarm inthese waters--not even of the batrachian or reptilian kinds. A fewinsects only--butterflies or others--and even these did not fly, for before they could use their wings, the atmospheric currentscarried the tiny bodies away to the surface of the rolling waves. 

“And the _Halbrane_” I used to say to Atkins each morning. 

“The _Halbrane_, Mr. Jeorling, ” he would reply with complacentassurance, “will surely come into port to-day, or, if not to-day, to-morrow. ”

In my rambles on the shore, I frequently routed a crowd ofamphibians, sending them plunging into the newly released waters. The penguins, heavy and impassive creatures, did not disappear at myapproach; they took no notice; but the black petrels, the puffins, black and white, the grebes and others, spread their wings at sightof me. 

One day I witnessed the departure of an albatross, saluted by thevery best croaks of the penguins, no doubt as a friend whom theywere to see no more. Those powerful birds can fly for two hundredleagues without resting for a moment, and with such rapidity thatthey sweep through vast spaces in a few hours. The departingalbatross sat motionless upon a high rock, at the end of the bay ofChristmas Harbour, looking at the waves as they dashed violentlyagainst the beach. 

Suddenly, the bird rose with a great sweep into the air, its clawsfolded beneath it, its head stretched out like the prow of a ship, uttering its shrill cry: a few moments later it was reduced to ablack speck in the vast height and disappeared behind the mistycurtain of the south. 

CHAPTER II. THE SCHOONER <i>HALBRANE</i>

The _Halbrane_ was a schooner of three hundred tons, and a fastsailer. On board there was a captain, a mate, or lieutenant, aboatswain, a cook, and eight sailors; in all twelve men, asufficient number to work the ship. Solidly built, copper-bottomed, very manageable, well suited for navigation between the fortieth andsixtieth parallels of south latitude, the _Halbrane_ was a credit tothe ship-yards of Birkenhead. 

All this I learned from Atkins, who adorned his narrative withpraise and admiration of its theme. Captain Len Guy, of Liverpool, was three-fifths owner of the vessel, which he had commanded fornearly six years. He traded in the southern seas of Africa andAmerica, going from one group of islands to another and fromcontinent to continent. His ship’s company was but a dozen men, itis true, but she was used for the purposes of trade only; he wouldhave required a more numerous crew, and all the implements, fortaking seals and other amphibia. The _Halbrane_ was not defenceless, however; on the contrary, she was heavily armed, and this was well, for those southern seas were not too safe; they were frequented atthat period by pirates, and on approaching the isles the _Halbrane_was put into a condition to resist attack. Besides, the men alwaysslept with one eye open. 

One morning--it was the 27th of August--I was roused out of my bedby the rough voice of the innkeeper and the tremendous thumps hegave my door. “Mr. Jeorling, are you awake?”

“Of course I am, Atkins. How should I be otherwise, with all thatnoise going on? What’s up?”

“A ship six miles out in the offing, to the nor’east, steeringfor Christmas!”

“Will it be the _Halbrane_?”

“We shall know that in a short time, Mr. Jeorling. At any rate itis the first boat of the year, and we must give it a welcome. ”

I dressed hurriedly and joined Atkins on the quay, where I found himin the midst of a group engaged in eager discussion. Atkins wasindisputably the most considerable and considered man in thearchipelago--consequently he secured the best listeners. The matterin dispute was whether the schooner in sight was or was not the_Halbrane_. The majority maintained that she was not, but Atkins waspositive she was, although on this occasion he had only two backers. 

The dispute was carried on with warmth, the host of the GreenCormorant defending his view, and the dissentients maintaining thatthe fast-approaching schooner was either English or American, untilshe was near enough to hoist her flag and the Union Jack wentfluttering up into the sky. Shortly after the _Halbrane_ lay at anchorin the middle of Christmas Harbour. 

The captain of the _Halbrane_, who received the demonstrative greetingof Atkins very coolly, it seemed to me, was about forty-five, red-faced, and solidly built, like his schooner; his head was large, his hair was already turning grey, his black eyes shone like coalsof fire under his thick eyebrows, and his strong white teeth wereset like rocks in his powerful jaws; his chin was lengthened by acoarse red beard, and his arms and legs were strong and firm. Suchwas Captain Len Guy, and he impressed me with the notion that he wasrather impassive than hard, a shut-up sort of person, whose secretsit would not be easy to get at. I was told the very same day that myimpression was correct, by a person who was better informed thanAtkins, although the latter pretended to great intimacy with thecaptain. The truth was that nobody had penetrated that reservednature. 

I may as well say at once that the person to whom I have alluded wasthe boatswain of the _Halbrane_, a man named Hurliguerly, who camefrom the Isle of Wight. This person was about forty-four, short, stout, strong, and bow-legged; his arms stuck out from his body, hishead was set like a ball on a bull neck, his chest was broad enoughto hold two pairs of lungs (and he seemed to want a double supply, for he was always puffing, blowing, and talking), he had drollroguish eyes, with a network of wrinkles under them. A noteworthydetail was an ear-ring, one only, which hung from the lobe of hisleft ear. What a contrast to the captain of the schooner, and howdid two such dissimilar beings contrive to get on together? They hadcontrived it, somehow, for they had been at sea in each other’scompany for fifteen years, first in the brig _Power_, which had beenreplaced by the schooner _Halbrane_, six years before the beginning ofthis story. 

Atkins had told Hurliguerly on his arrival that I would take passageon the _Halbrane_, if Captain Len Guy consented to my doing so, andthe boatswain presented himself on the following morning without anynotice or introduction. He already knew my name, and he accosted meas follows:

“Mr. Jeorling, I salute you. ”

“I salute you in my turn, my friend. What do you want?”

“To offer you my services. ”

“On what account?”

“On account of your intention to embark on the _Halbrane_. ”

“Who are you?”

“I am Hurliguerly, the boatswain of the _Halbrane_, and besides, Iam the faithful companion of Captain Len Guy, who will listen to mewillingly, although he has the reputation of not listening toanybody. ”

“Well, my friend, let us talk, if you are not required on boardjust now. ”

“I have two hours before me, Mr. Jeorling. Besides, there’s verylittle to be done to-day. If you are free, as I am--”

He waved his hand towards the port. 

“Cannot we talk very well here?” I observed. 

“Talk, Mr. Jeorling, talk standing up, and our throats dry, whenit is so easy to sit down in a corner of the Green Cormorant infront of two glasses of whisky. ”

“I don’t drink. ”

“Well, then, I’ll drink for both of us. Oh! don’t imagine youare dealing with a sot! No! never more than is good for me, butalways as much!”

I followed the man to the tavern, and while Atkins was busy on thedeck of the ship, discussing the prices of his purchases and sales, we took our places in the eating room of his inn. And first I saidto Hurliguerly: “It was on Atkins that I reckoned to introduce meto Captain Len Guy, for he knows him very intimately, if I am notmistaken. ”

“Pooh! Atkins is a good sort, and the captain has an esteem forhim. But he can’t do what I can. Let me act for you, Mr. Jeorling. ”

“Is it so difficult a matter to arrange, boatswain, and is therenot a cabin on board the _Halbrane_? The smallest would do for me, andI will pay--”

“All right, Mr. Jeorling! There is a cabin, which has never beenused, and since you don’t mind putting your hand in your pocket ifrequired--however--between ourselves--it will take somebodysharper than you think, and who isn’t good old Atkins, to induceCaptain Len Guy to take a passenger. Yes, indeed, it will take allthe smartness of the good fellow who now drinks to your health, regretting that you don’t return the compliment!”

What a wink it was that accompanied this sentiment! And then the mantook a short black pipe out of the pocket of his jacket, and smokedlike a steamer in full blast. 

“Mr. Hurliguerly?” said I. 

“Mr. Jeorling. ”

“Why does your captain object to taking me on his ship?”

“Because he does not intend to take anybody on board his ship. Henever has taken a passenger. ”

“But, for what reason, I ask you. ”

“Oh! because he wants to go where he likes, to turn about if hepleases and go the other way without accounting for his motives toanybody. He never leaves these southern seas, Mr. Jeorling; we havebeen going these many years between Australia on the east andAmerica on the west; from Hobart Town to the Kerguelens, to Tristand’Acunha, to the Falklands, only taking time anywhere to sell ourcargo, and sometimes dipping down into the Antarctic Sea. Underthese circumstances, you understand, a passenger might betroublesome, and besides, who would care to embark on the _Halbrane_?she does not like to flout the breezes, and goes wherever the winddrives her. ”

“The _Halbrane_ positively leaves the Kerguelens in four days?”

“Certainly. ”

“And this time she will sail westward for Tristan d’Acunha?”

“Probably. ”

“Well, then, that probability will be enough for me, and since youoffer me your services, get Captain Len Guy to accept me as apassenger. ”

“It’s as good as done. ”

“All right, Hurliguerly, and you shall have no reason to repent ofit. ”

“Eh! Mr. Jeorling, ” replied this singular mariner, shaking hishead as though he had just come out of the sea, “I have neverrepented of anything, and I know well that I shall not repent ofdoing you a service. Now, if you will allow me, I shall take leaveof you, without waiting for Arkins to return, and get on board. ”

With this, Hurliguerly swallowed his last glass of whisky at agulp--I thought the glass would have gone down with theliquor--bestowed a patronizing smile on me, and departed. 

An hour later, I met the innkeeper on the port, and told him whathad occurred. 

“Ah! that Hurliguerly!” said he, “always the old story. If youwere to believe him, Captain Len Guy wouldn’t blow his nosewithout consulting him. He’s a queer fellow, Mr. Jeorling, notbad, not stupid, but a great hand at getting hold of dollars orguineas! If you fall into his hands, mind your purse, button up yourpocket, and don’t let yourself be done. ”

“Thanks for your advice, Atkins. Tell me, you have been talkingwith Captain Len Guy; have you spoken about me?”

“Not yet, Mr. Jeorling. There’s plenty of time. The _Halbrane_ hasonly just arrived, and--”

“Yes, yes, I know. But you understand that I want to be certain assoon as possible. ”

“There’s nothing to fear. The matter will be all right. Besides, you would not be at a loss in any case. When the fishing seasoncomes, there will be more ships in Christmas Harbour than there arehouses around the Green Cormorant. Rely on me. I undertake yourgetting a passage. ”

Now, these were fair words, but, just as in the case of Hurliguerly, there was nothing in them. So, notwithstanding the fine promises ofthe two, I resolved to address myself personally to Len Guy, hard toget at though he might be, so soon as I should meet him alone. 

The next day, in the afternoon, I saw him on the quay, andapproached him. It was plain that he would have preferred to avoidme. It was impossible that Captain Len Guy, who knew every dwellerin the place, should not have known that I was a stranger, evensupposing that neither of my would-be patrons had mentioned me tohim. 

His attitude could only signify one of two things--either myproposal had been communicated to him, and he did not intend toaccede to it; or neither Hurliguerly nor Arkins had spoken to himsince the previous day. In the latter case, if he held aloof fromme, it was because of his morose nature; it was because he did notchoose to enter into conversation with a stranger. 

At the moment when I was about to accost him, the _Halbrane’s_lieutenant rejoined his captain, and the latter availed himself ofthe opportunity to avoid me. He made a sign to the officer to followhim, and the two walked away at a rapid pace. 

“This is serious, ” said I to myself. “It looks as though Ishall find it difficult to gain my point. But, after all it onlymeans delay. To-morrow morning I will go on board the _Halbrane_. Whether he likes it or whether he doesn’t, this Len Guy will haveto hear what I’ve got to say, and to give me an answer, yes orno!”

Besides, the captain of the _Halbrane_ might come at dinner-time tothe Green Cormorant, where the ship’s people usually took theirmeals when ashore. So I waited, and did not go to dinner until late. I was disappointed, however, for neither the captain nor anyonebelonging to the ship patronized the Green Cormorant that day. I hadto dine alone, exactly as I had been doing every day for two months. 

After dinner, about half-past seven, when it was dark, I went out towalk on the port, keeping on the side of the houses. The quay wasquite deserted; not a man of the _Halbrane_ crew was ashore. Theship’s boats were alongside, rocking gently on the rising tide. Iremained there until nine, walking up and down the edge in full viewof the _Halbrane_. Gradually the mass of the ship became indistinct, there was no movement and no light. I returned to the inn, where Ifound Atkins smoking his pipe near the door. 

“Atkins, ” said I, “it seems that Captain Len Guy does not careto come to your inn very often?”

“He sometimes comes on Sunday, and this is Saturday, Mr. Jeorling. ”

“You have not spoken to him?”

“Yes, I have. ”

Atkins was visibly embarrassed. 

“You have informed him that a person of your acquaintance wishedto take passage on the _Halbrane_?”

“Yes. ”

“What was his answer?”

“Not what either you or I would have wished, Mr. Jeorling. ”

“He refuses?”

“Well, yes, I suppose it was refusing; what he said was: ‘Myship is not intended to carry passengers. I never have taken any, and I never intend to do so. ’“

CHAPTER III. CAPTAIN LEN GUY

I slept ill. Again and again I “dreamed that I was dreaming. ”Now--this is an observation made by Edgar Poe--when one suspectsthat one is dreaming, the waking comes almost instantly. I wokethen, and every time in a very bad humour with Captain Len Guy. Theidea of leaving the Kerguelens on the _Halbrane_ had full possessionof me, and I grew more and more angry with her disobliging captain. In fact, I passed the night in a fever of indignation, and onlyrecovered my temper with daylight. Nevertheless I was determined tohave an explanation with Captain Len Guy about his detestableconduct. Perhaps I should fail to get anything out of that humanhedgehog, but at least I should have given him a piece of my mind. 

I went out at eight o’clock in the morning. The weather wasabominable. Rain, mixed with snow, a storm coming over the mountainsat the back of the bay from the west, clouds scurrying down from thelower zones, an avalanche of wind and water. It was not likely thatCaptain Len Guy had come ashore merely to enjoy such a wetting andblowing. 

No one on the quay; of course not. As for my getting on’ board the_Halbrane_, that could not be done without hailing one of her boats, and the boatswain would not venture to send it for me. 

“Besides, ” I reflected, “on his quarter-deck the captain is athome, and neutral ground is better for what I want to say to him, ifhe persists in his unjustifiable refusal. I will watch him thistime, and if his boat touches the quay, he shall not succeed inavoiding me. ”

I returned to the Green Cormorant, and took up my post behind thewindow panes, which were dimmed by the hissing rain. There I waited, nervous, impatient, and in a state of growing irritation. Two hourswore away thus. Then, with the instability of the winds in theKerguelens, the weather became calm before I did. I opened mywindow, and at the same moment a sailor stepped into one of theboats of the _Halbrane_ and laid hold of a pair of oars, while asecond man seated himself in the back, but without taking the tillerropes. The boat touched the landing, place and Captain Len Guystepped on shore. 

In a few seconds I was out of the inn, and confronted him. 

“Sir, ” said I in a cold hard tone. 

Captain Len Guy looked at me steadily, and I was struck by thesadness of his eyes, which were as black as ink. Then in a very lowvoice he asked:

“You are a stranger?”

“A stranger at the Kerguelens? Yes. ”

“Of English nationality?”

“No. American. ”

He saluted me, and I returned the curt gesture. 

“Sir, ” I resumed, “I believe Mr. Atkins of the Green Cormoranthas spoken to you respecting a proposal of mine. That proposal, itseems to me, deserved a favourable reception on the part of a--”

“The proposal to take passage on my ship?” interposed CaptainLen Guy. 

“Precisely. ”

“I regret, sir, I regret that I could not agree to your request. ”

“Will you tell me why?”

“Because I am not in the habit of taking passengers. That is thefirst reason. ”

“And the second, captain?”

“Because the route of the _Halbrane_ is never settled beforehand. She starts for one port and goes to another, just as I find it to myadvantage. You must know that I am not in the service of ashipowner. My share in the schooner is considerable, and I have noone but myself to consult in respect to her. ”

“Then it entirely depends on you to give me a passage?”

“That is so, but I can only answer you by a refusal--to myextreme regret. ”

“Perhaps you will change your mind, captain, when you know that Icare very little what the destination of your schooner may be. It isnot unreasonable to suppose that she will go somewhere--”

“Somewhere indeed. ” I fancied that Captain Len Guy threw a longlook towards the southern horizon. 

“To go here or to go there is almost a matter of indifference tome. What I desired above all was to get away from Kerguelen at thefirst opportunity that should offer. ”

Captain Len Guy made me no answer; he remained in silent thought, but did not endeavour to slip away from me. 

“You are doing me the honour to listen to me?” I asked himsharply. 

“Yes, sir. ”

“I will then add that, if I am not mistaken, and if the route ofyour ship has not been altered, it was your intention to leaveChristmas Harbour for Tristan d’ Acunha. ”

“Perhaps for Tristan d’Acunha, perhaps for the Cape, perhaps forthe Falklands, perhaps for elsewhere. ”

“Well, then, Captain Guy, it is precisely elsewhere that I want togo, ” I replied ironically, and trying hard to control myirritation. 

Then a singular change took place in the demeanour of Captain LenGuy. His voice became more sharp and harsh. In very plain words hemade me understand that it was quite useless to insist, that Ourinterview had already lasted too long, that time pressed, and he hadbusiness at the port; in short that we had said all that we couldhave to say to each other. 

I had put out my arm to detain him--to seize him would be a morecorrect term--and the conversation, ill begun, seemed likely to endstill more ill, when this odd person turned towards me and said in amilder tone, --

“Pray understand, sir, that I am very sorry to be unable to dowhat you ask, and to appear disobliging to an American. But I couldnot act otherwise. In the course of the voyage of the _Halbrane_ someunforeseen incident might occur to make the presence of a passengerinconvenient--even one so accommodating as yourself. Thus I mightexpose myself to the risk of being unable to profit by the chanceswhich I seek. ”

“I have told you, captain, and I repeat it, that although myintention is to return to America and to Connecticut, I don’t carewhether I get there in three months or in six, or by what route;it’s all the same to me, and even were your schooner to take me tothe Antarctic seas--”

“The Antarctic seas!” exclaimed Captain Len Guy with a questionin his tone. And his look searched my thoughts with the keenness ofa dagger. 

“Why do you speak of the Antarctic seas?” he asked, taking myhand. 

“Well, just as I might have spoken of the ‘Hyperborean seas’from whence an Irish poet has made Sebastian Cabot address somelovely verses to his Lady. (1) I spoke of the South Pole as I mighthave spoken of the North. ”

Captain Len Guy did not answer, and I thought I saw tears glisten inhis eyes. Then, as though he would escape from some harrowingrecollection which my words had evoked, he said, --

“Who would venture to seek the South Pole?”

“It would be difficult to reach, and the experiments would be ofno practical use, ” I replied. “Nevertheless there are mensufficiently adventurous to embark in such an enterprise. ”

“Yes--adventurous is the word!” muttered the captain. 

“And now, ” I resumed, “the United States is again making anattempt with Wilkes’s fleet, the _Vancouver_, the _Peacock_, the_Flying Fish_, and others. ”

“The United States, Mr. Jeorling? Do you mean to say that anexpedition has been sent by the Federal Government to the Antarcticseas?”

“The fact is certain, and last year, before I left America, Ilearned that the vessels had sailed. That was a year ago, and it isvery possible that Wilkes has gone farther than any of the precedingexplorers. ”

Captain Len Guy had relapsed into silence, and came out of hisinexplicable musing only to say abruptly--

“You come from Connecticut, sir?”

“From Connecticut. ”

“And more specially?”

“From Providence. ”

“Do you know Nantucket Island?”

“I have visited it several times. ”

“You know, I think, ” said the captain, looking straight into myeyes, “that Nantucket Island was the birthplace of Arthur GordonPym, the hero of your famous romance-writer Edgar Poe. ”

“Yes. I remember that Poe’s romance starts from Nantucket. ”

“Romance, you say? That was the word you used?”

“Undoubtedly, captain. ”

“Yes, and that is what everybody says! But, pardon me, I cannotstay any longer. I regret that I cannot alter my mind with respectto your proposal. But, at any rate, you will only have a few days towait. The season is about to open. Trading ships and whalers willput in at Christmas Harbour, and you will be able to make a choice, with the certainty of going to the port you want to reach. I am verysorry, sir, and I salute you. ”

With these words Captain Len Guy walked quickly away, and theinterview ended differently from what I had expected, that is to sayin formal, although polite, fashion. 

As there is no use in contending with the impossible, I gave up thehope of a passage on the _Halbrane_, but continued to feel angry withher intractable captain. And why should I not confess that mycuriosity was aroused? I felt that there was something mysteriousabout this sullen mariner, and I should have liked to find out whatit was. 

That day, Atkins wanted to know whether Captain Len Guy had madehimself less disagreeable. I had to acknowledge that I had been nomore fortunate in my negotiations than my host himself, and theavowal surprised him not a little. He could not understand thecaptain’s obstinate refusal. And--a fact which touched him morenearly--the Green Cormorant had not been visited by either Len Guyor his crew since the arrival of the _Halbrane_. The men wereevidently acting upon orders. So far as Hurliguerly was concerned, it was easy to understand that after his imprudent advance he didnot care to keep up useless relations with me. I knew not whether hehad attempted to shake the resolution of his chief; but I wascertain of one thing; if he had made any such effort it had failed. 

During the three following days, the 10th, 11th, and 12th of August, the work of repairing and re-victualling the schooner went onbriskly; but all this was done with regularity, and without suchnoise and quarrelling as seamen at anchor usually indulge in. The_Halbrane_ was evidently well commanded, her crew well kept in hand, discipline strictly maintained. 

The schooner was to sail on the 15th of August, and on the eve ofthat day I had no reason to think that Captain Len Guy had repentedhim of his categorical refusal. Indeed, I had made up my mind to thedisappointment, and had no longer any angry feeling about it. WhenCaptain Len Guy and myself met on the quay, we took no notice ofeach other; nevertheless, I fancied there was some hesitation in hismanner; as though he would have liked to speak to me. He did not doso, however, and I was not disposed to seek a further explanation. 

At seven o’clock in the evening of the 14th of August, the islandbeing already wrapped in darkness, I was walking on the port after Ihad dined, walking briskly too, for it was cold, although dryweather. The sky was studded with stars and the air was very keen. Icould not stay out long, and was returning to mine inn, when a mancrossed my path, paused, came back, and stopped in front of me. Itwas the captain of the _Halbrane_. 

“Mr. Jeorling, ” he began, “the _Halbrane_ sails tomorrowmorning, with the ebb tide. ”

“What is the good of telling me that, ” I replied, “since yourefuse--”

“Sir, I have thought over it, and if you have not changed yourmind, come on board at seven o’clock. ”

“Really, captain, ” I replied, “I did not expect this relentingon your part. ”

“I repeat that I have thought over it, and I add that the _Halbrane_shall proceed direct to Tristan d’Acunha. That will suit you, Isuppose?”

“To perfection, captain. To-morrow morning, at seven o’clock, Ishall be on board. ”

“Your cabin is prepared. ”

“The cost of the voyage--”

“We can settle that another time, ” answered the captain, “andto your satisfaction. Until to-morrow, then--”

“Until to-morrow. ”

I stretched out my arm, to shake hands with him upon our bargain. Perhaps he did not perceive my movement in the darkness, at allevents he made no response to it, but walked rapidly away and gotinto his boat. 

I was greatly surprised, and so was Arkins, when I found him in theeating-room of the Green Cormorant and told him what had occurred. His comment upon it was characteristic. 

“This queer captain, ” he said, “is as full of whims as aspoilt child! It is to be hoped he will not change his mind again atthe last moment. ”

The next morning at daybreak I bade adieu to the Green Cormorant, and went down to the port, with my kind-hearted host, who insistedon accompanying me to the ship, partly in order to make his mindeasy respecting the sincerity of the captain’s repentance, andpartly that he might take leave of him, and also of Hurliguerly. Aboat was waiting at the quay, and we reached the ship in a fewminutes. 

The first person whom I met on the deck was Hurliguerly; he gave mea look of triumph, which said as plainly as speech: “Ha! you seenow. Our hard-to-manage captain has given in at last. And to whom doyou owe this, but to the good boatswain who did his best for you, and did not boast overmuch of his influence?”

Was this the truth? I had strong reasons for doubting it. After all, what did it matter?

Captain Len Guy came on deck immediately after my arrival; this wasnot surprising, except for the fact that he did not appear to remarkmy presence. 

Atkins then approached the captain and said in a pleasant tone, --

“We shall meet next year!”

“If it please God, Atkins. ”

They shook hands. Then the boatswain took a hearty leave of theinnkeeper, and was rowed back to the quay. 

Before dark the white summits of Table Mount and Havergal, whichrise, the former to two, the other to three thousand feet above thelevel of the sea, had disappeared from our view. 

(1) Thomas D’Arcy McGee. (J. V. )

CHAPTER IV. FROM THE KERGUELEN ISLES TO PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND

Never did a voyage begin more prosperously, or a passenger start inbetter spirits. The interior of the _Halbrane_ corresponded with itsexterior. Nothing could exceed the perfect order, the Dutchcleanliness of the vessel. The captain’s cabin, and that of thelieutenant, one on the port, the other on the starboard side, werefitted up with a narrow berth, a cupboard anything but capacious, anarm-chair, a fixed table, a lamp hung from the ceiling, variousnautical instruments, a barometer, a thermometer, a chronometer, anda sextant in its oaken box. One of the two other cabins was preparedto receive me. It was eight feet in length, five in breadth. I wasaccustomed to the exigencies of sea life, and could do with itsnarrow proportions, also with its furniture--a table, a cupboard, acane-bottomed arm-chair, a washing-stand on an iron pedestal, and aberth to which a less accommodating passenger would doubtless haveobjected. The passage would be a short one, however, so I tookpossession of that cabin, which I was to occupy for only four, or atthe worst five weeks, with entire content. 

The eight men who composed the crew were named respectively MartinHolt, sailing-master; Hardy, Rogers, Drap, Francis, Gratian, Burg, and Stern--sailors all between twenty-five and thirty-five yearsold--all Englishmen, well trained, and remarkably well disciplinedby a hand of iron. 

Let me set it down here at the beginning, the exceptionally able manwhom they all obeyed at a word, a gesture, was not the captain ofthe _Halbrane_; that man was the second officer, James West, who wasthen thirty-two years of age. 

James West was born on the sea, and had passed his childhood onboard a lighter belonging to his father, and on which the wholefamily lived. Ail his life he had breathed the salt air of theEnglish Channel, the Atlantic, or the Pacific. He never went ashoreexcept for the needs of his service, whether of the State or oftrade. If he had to leave one ship for another he merely shifted hiscanvas bag to the latter, from which he stirred no more. When he wasnot sailing in reality he was sailing in imagination. After havingbeen ship’s boy, novice, sailor, he became quartermaster, master, and finally lieutenant of the _Halbrane_, and he had already servedfor ten years as second in command under Captain Len Guy. 

James West was not even ambitious of a higher rise; he did not wantto make a fortune; he did not concern himself with the buying orselling of cargoes; but everything connected with that admirableinstrument a sailing ship, James West understood to perfection. 

The personal appearance of the lieutenant was as follows: middleheight, slightly built, all nerves and muscles, strong limbs asagile as those of a gymnast, the true sailor’s “look, ” but ofvery unusual far-sightedness and surprising penetration, sunburntface, hair thick and short, beardless cheeks and chin, regularfeatures, the whole expression denoting energy, courage, andphysical strength at their utmost tension. 

James West spoke but rarely--only when he was questioned. He gavehis orders in a clear voice, not repeating them, but so as to beheard at once, and he was understood. I call attention to thistypical officer of the Merchant Marine, who was devoted body andsoul to Captain Len Guy as to the schooner _Halbrane_. He seemed to beone of the essential organs of his ship, and if the _Halbrane_ had aheart it was in James West’s breast that it beat. 

There is but one more person to be mentioned; the ship’s cook--anegro from the African coast named Endicott, thirty years of age, who had held that post for eight years. The boatswain and he weregreat friends, and indulged in frequent talks. 

Life on board was very regular, very simple, and its monotony wasnot without a certain charm. Sailing is repose in movement, arocking in a dream, and I did not dislike my isolation. Of course Ishould have liked to find out why Captain Len Guy had changed hismind with respect to me; but how was this to be done? To questionthe lieutenant would have been loss of time. Besides, was he inpossession of the secrets of his chief? It was no part of hisbusiness to be so, and I had observed that he did not occupy himselfwith anything outside of it. Not ten words were exchanged betweenhim and me during the two meals which we took in common daily. Imust acknowledge, however, that I frequently caught the captain’seyes fixed upon me, as though he longed to question me, as though hehad something to learn from me, whereas it was I, on the contrary, who had something to learn from him. But we were both silent. 

Had I felt the need of talking to somebody very strongly, I mighthave resorted to the boatswain, who was always disposed to chatter;but what had he to say that could interest me? He never failed tobid me good morning and good evening in most prolix fashion, butbeyond these courtesies I did not feel disposed to go. 

The good weather lasted, and on the 18th of August, in theafternoon, the look-out discerned the mountains of the Crozet group. The next day we passed Possession Island, which is inhabited only inthe fishing season. At this period the only dwellers there areflocks of penguins, and the birds which whalers call ”whitepigeons. ”

The approach to land is always interesting at sea. It occurred to methat Captain Len Guy might take this opportunity of speaking to hispassenger; but he did not. 

We should see land, that is to say the peaks of Marion and PrinceEdward Islands, before arriving at Tristan d’Acunha, but it wasthere the _Halbrane_ was to take in a fresh supply of water. Iconcluded therefore that the monotony of our voyage would continueunbroken to the end. But, on the morning of the 20th of August, tomy extreme surprise, Captain Len Guy came on deck, approached me, and said, speaking very low, --

”Sir, I have something to say to you. ”

“I am ready to hear you, captain. ”

“I have not spoken until to-day, for I am naturally taciturn. ”Here he hesitated again, but after a pause, continued with aneffort, --

“Mr. Jeorling, have you tried to discover my reason for changingmy mind on the subject of your passage?”

“I have tried, but I have not succeeded, captain. Perhaps, as I amnot a compatriot of yours, you--”

“It is precisely because you are an American that I decided in theend to offer you a passage on the _Halbrane_. ”

“Because I am an American?”

“Also, because you come from Connecticut. ”

“I don’t understand. ”

“You will understand if I add that I thought it possible, sinceyou belong to Connecticut, since you have visited Nantucket Island, that you might have known the family of Arthur Gordon Pym. ”

“The hero of Edgar Poe’s romance?”

“The same. His narrative was founded upon the manuscript in whichthe details of that extraordinary and disastrous voyage across theAntarctic Sea was related. ”

I thought I must be dreaming when I heard Captain Len Guy’s words. Edgar Poe’s romance was nothing but a fiction, a work ofimagination by the most brilliant of our American writers. And herewas a sane man treating that fiction as a reality. 

I could not answer him. I was asking myself what manner of man wasthis one with whom I had to deal. 

“You have heard my question?” persisted the captain. 

“Yes, yes, captain, certainly, but I am not sure that I quiteunderstand. ”

“I will put it to you more plainly. I ask you whether inConnecticut you personally knew the Pym family who lived inNantucket Island? Arthur Pam’s father was one of the principalmerchants there, he was a Navy contractor. It was his son whoembarked in the adventures which he related with his own lips toEdgar Poe--”

“Captain! Why, that story is due to the powerful imagination ofour great poet. It is a pure invention. ”

“So, then, you don’t believe it, Mr. Jeorling?” said thecaptain, shrugging his shoulders three times. 

“Neither I nor any other person believes it, Captain Guy, and youare the first I have heard maintain that it was anything but a mereromance. ”

“Listen to me, then, Mr. Jeorling, for although this‘romance’--as you call it--appeared only last year, it is nonethe less a reality. Although eleven years have elapsed since thefacts occurred, they are none the less true, and we still await the‘ word J of an enigma which will perhaps never be solved. ”

Yes, he was mad; but by good fortune West was there to take hisplace as commander of the schooner. I had only to listen to him, andas I had read Poe’s romance over and over again, I was curious tohear what the captain had to say about it. 

“And now, ” he resumed in a sharper tone and with a shake in hisvoice which denoted a certain amount of nervous irritation, “it ispossible that you did not know the Pym family; that you have nevermet them either at Providence or at Nantucket--”

“Or elsewhere. ”

“Just so! But don’t commit yourself by asserting that the Pymfamily never existed, that Arthur Gordon is only a fictitiouspersonage, and his voyage an imaginary one! Do you think any man, even your Edgar Poe, could have been capable of inventing, ofcreating--?”

The increasing vehemence of Captain Len Guy warned me of thenecessity of treating his monomania with respect, and accepting allhe said without discussion. 

“Now, ” he proceeded, “please to keep the facts which I amabout to state clearly in your mind; there is no disputing aboutfacts. You may deduce any results from them you like. I hope youwill not make me regret that I consented to give you a passage onthe _Halbrane_. ”

This was an effectual warning, so I made a sign of acquiescence. Thematter promised to be curious. He went on, --

“When Edgar Poe’s narrative appeared in 1838, I was at New York. I immediately started for Baltimore, where the writer’s familylived; the grandfather had served as quarter-master-general duringthe War of Independence. You admit, I suppose, the existence of thePoe family, although you deny that of the Pym family?”

I said nothing, and the captain continued, with a dark glance atme, --

“I inquired into certain matters relating to Edgar Poe. His abodewas pointed out to me and I called at the house. A firstdisappointment! He had left America, and I could not see him. Unfortunately, being unable to see Edgar Poe, I was unable to referto Arthur Gordon Pym in the case. That bold pioneer of the Antarcticregions was dead! As the American poet had stated, at the close ofthe narrative of his adventures, Gordon’s death had already beenmade known to the public by the daily press. ”

What Captain Len Guy said was true; but, in common with all thereaders of the romance, I had taken this declaration for an artificeof the novelist. My notion was that, as he either could not or darednot wind up so extraordinary a work of imagination, Poe had given itto be understood that he had not received the last three chaptersfrom Arthur Pym, whose life had ended under sudden and deplorablecircumstances which Poe did not make known. 

“Then, ” continued the captain, “Edgar Poe being absent, ArthurPym being dead, I had only one thing to do; to find the man who hadbeen the fellow-traveller of Arthur Pym, that Dirk Peters who hadfollowed him to the very verge of the high latitudes, and whencethey had both returned--how? This is not known. Did they come backin company? The narrative does not say, and there are obscure pointsin that part of it, as in many other places. However, Edgar Poestated explicitly that Dirk Peters would be able to furnishinformation relating to the non-communicated chapters, and that helived at Illinois. I set out at once for Illinois; I arrived atSpringfield; I inquired for this man, a half-breed Indian. He livedin the hamlet of Vandalia; I went there, and met with a seconddisappointment. He was not there, or rather, Mr. Jeorling, he was nolonger there. Some years before this Dirk Peters had left Illinois, and even the United States, to go--nobody knows where. But I havetalked, at Vandalia with people who had known him, with whom helived, to whom he related his adventures, but did not explain thefinal issue. Of that he alone holds the secret. ” What! This Dirk Peters had really existed? He still lived? I wason the point of letting myself be carried away by the statements ofthe captain of the _Halbrane_! Yes, another moment, and, in my turn, Ishould have made a fool of myself. This poor mad fellow imaginedthat he had gone to Illinois and seen people at Vandalia who hadknown Dirk Peters, and that the latter had disappeared. No wonder, since he had never existed, save in the brain of the novelist!

Nevertheless I did not want to vex Len Guy, and perhaps drive himstill more mad. Accordingly I appeared entirely convinced that hewas speaking words of sober seriousness, even when he added, --

“You are aware that in the narrative mention is made by thecaptain of the schooner on which Arthur Pym had embarked, of abottle containing a sealed letter, which was deposited at the footof one of the Kerguelen peaks?”

“Yes, I recall the incident. ”

“Well, then, in one of my latest voyages I sought for the placewhere that bottle ought to be. I found it and the letter also. Thatletter stated that the captain and Arthur Pym intended to make everyeffort to reach the uttermost limits of the Antarctic Sea!”“You found that bottle?”

“Yes!”

“And the letter?”

“Yes!”

I looked at Captain Len Guy. Like certain monomaniacs he had come tobelieve in his own inventions. I was on the point of saying to him, “Show me that letter, ” but I thought better of it. Was he notcapable of having written the letter himself? And then I answered, --

“It is much to be regretted, captain, that you were unable to comeacross Dirk Peters at Vandalia! He would at least have informed youunder what conditions he and Arthur Pym returned from so far. Recollect, now, in the last chapter but one they are both there. Their boat is in front of the thick curtain of white mist; it dashesinto the gulf of the cataract just at the moment when a veiled humanform rises. Then there is nothing more; nothing but two blanklines--”

“Decidedly, sir, it is much to be regretted that I could not laymy hand on Dirk Peters! It would have been interesting to learn whatwas the outcome of these adventures. But, to my mind, it would havebeen still more interesting to have ascertained the fate of theothers. ”

“The others?” I exclaimed almost involuntarily. “Of whom doyou speak?”

“Of the captain and crew of the English schooner which picked upArthur Pym and Dirk Peters after the frightful shipwreck of the__Grampus__, and brought them across the Polar Sea to Tsalal Island--”

“Captain, ” said I, just as though I entertained no doubt of theauthenticity of Edgar Poe’s romance, “is it not the case thatall these men perished, some in the attack on the schooner, theothers by the infernal device of the natives of Tsalal?”

“Who can tell?” replied the captain in a voice hoarse fromemotion. “Who can say but that some of the unfortunate creaturessurvived, and contrived to escape from the natives?”

“In any case, ” I replied, “it would be difficult to admit thatthose who had survived could still be living. ”

“And why?”

“Because the facts we are discussing are eleven years old. ”

“Sir, ” replied the captain, “since Arthur Pym and Dirk Peterswere able to advance beyond Tsalal Island farther than theeighty-third parallel, since they found means of living in the midstof those Antarctic lands, why should not their companions, if theywere not all killed by the natives, if they were so fortunate as toreach the neighbouring islands sighted during the voyage--whyshould not those unfortunate countrymen of mine have contrived tolive there? Why should they not still be there, awaiting theirdeliverance?”

“Your pity leads you astray, captain, ” I replied. “It wouldbe impossible. ”

“Impossible, sir! And if a fact, on indisputable evidence, appealed to the whole civilized world; if a material proof of theexistence of these unhappy men, imprisoned at the ends of the earth, were furnished, who would venture to meet those who would fain go totheir aid with the cry of ‘Impossible!’“

Was it a sentiment of humanity, exaggerated to the point of madness, that had roused the interest of this strange man in thoseshipwrecked folk who never had suffered shipwreck, for the goodreason that they never had existed?

Captain Len Guy approached me anew, laid his hand on my shoulder andwhispered in my ear, --

“No, sir, no! the last word has not been said concerning the crewof the _Jane_. ”

Then he promptly withdrew. 

The _Jane_ was, in Edgar Poe’s romance, the name of the ship whichhad rescued Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters from the wreck of the_Grampus_, and Captain Len Guy had now uttered it for the first time. It occurred to me then that Guy was the name of the captain of the_Jane_, an English ship; but what of that? The captain of the _Jane_never lived but in the imagination of the novelist, he and theskipper of the _Halbrane_ have nothing in common except a name whichis frequently to be found in England. But, on thinking of thesimilarity, it struck me that the poor captain’s brain had beenturned by this very thing. He had conceived the notion that he wasof kin to the unfortunate captain of the _Jane_! And this had broughthim to his present state, this was the source of his passionate pityfor the fate of the imaginary shipwrecked mariners!

It would have been interesting to discover whether James West wasaware of the state of the case, whether his chief had ever talked tohim of the follies he had revealed to me. But this was a delicatequestion, since it involved the mental condition of Captain Len Guy;and besides, any kind of conversation with the lieutenant wasdifficult. On the whole I thought it safer to restrain my curiosity. In a few days the schooner would reach Tristan d’Acunha, and Ishould part with her and her captain for good and all. Never, however, could I lose the recollection that I had actually met andsailed with a man who took the fictions of Edgar Poe’s romance forsober fact. Never could I have looked for such an experience!

On the 22nd of August the outline of Prince Edward’s Island wassighted, south latitude 46° 55’, and 37° 46’ east longitude. We were in sight of the island for twelve hours, and then it waslost in the evening mists. 

On the following day the _Halbrane_ headed in the direction of thenorth-west, towards the most northern parallel of the southernhemisphere which she had to attain in the course of that voyage. 

CHAPTER V. EDGAR POE’S ROMANCE

In this chapter I have to give a brief summary of Edgar Poe’sromance, which was published at Richmond under the title of

THE ADVENTURES OF ARTHUR GORDON PYM. 

We shall see whether there was any room for doubt that theadventures of this hero of romance were imaginary. But indeed, amongthe multitude of Poe’s readers, was there ever one, with the soleexception of Len Guy, who believed them to be real? The story istold by the principal personage. Arthur Pym states in the prefacethat on his return from his voyage to the Antarctic seas he met, among the Virginian gentlemen who took an interest in geographicaldiscoveries, Edgar Poe, who was then editor of the _Southern LiteraryMessenger_ at Richmond, and that he authorized the latter to publishthe first part of his adventures in that journal “under the cloakof fiction. ” That portion having been favourably received, avolume containing the complete narrative was issued with thesignature of Edgar Poe. 

Arthur Gordon Pym was born at Nantucket, where he attended theBedford School until he was sixteen years old. Having left thatschool for Mr. Ronald’s, he formed a friendship with one AugustusBarnard, the son of a ship’s captain. This youth, who waseighteen, had already accompanied his father on a whaling expeditionin the southern seas, and his yarns concerning that maritimeadventure fired the imagination of Arthur Pym. Thus it was that theassociation of these youths gave rise to Pym’s irresistiblevocation to adventurous voyaging, and to the instinct thatespecially attracted him towards the high zones of the Antarcticregion. The first exploit of Augustus Barnard and Arthur Pym was anexcursion on board a little sloop, the _Ariel_, a two-decked boatwhich belonged to the Pyms. One evening the two youths, both beingvery tipsy, embarked secretly, in cold October weather, and boldlyset sail in a strong breeze from the south-west. The _Ariel_, aided bythe ebb tide, had already lost sight of land when a violent stormarose. The imprudent young fellows were still intoxicated. No onewas at the helm, not a reef was in the sail. The masts were carriedaway by the furious gusts, and the wreck was driven before the wind. Then came a great ship which passed over the _Ariel_ as the _Ariel_would have passed a floating feather. 

Arthur Pym gives the fullest details of the rescue of his companionand himself after this collision, under conditions of extremedifficulty. At length, thanks to the second officer of the _Penguin_, from New London, which arrived on the scene of the catastrophe, thecomrades were picked with life all but extinct, and taken back toNantucket. 

This adventure, to which I cannot deny an appearance veracity, wasan ingenious preparation for the chapters that were to follow, andindeed, up to the day on which Pym penetrates into the polar circle, the narrative might conceivably be regarded as authentic. But, beyond the polar circle, above the austral icebergs, it is quiteanother thing, and, if the author’s work be not one of pureimagination, I am--well, of any other nationality than my own. Letus get on. 

Their first adventure had not cooled the two youths, and eightmonths after the affair of the _Ariel_--June, 1827--the brig_Grampus_ was fitted out by the house of Lloyd and Vredenburg forwhaling in the southern seas. This brig was an old, ill-repairedcraft, and Mr. Barnard, the father of Augustus, was its skipper. Hisson, who was to accompany him on the voyage, strongly urged Arthurto go with him, and the latter would have asked nothing better, buthe knew that his family, and especially his mother, would neverconsent to let him go. 

This obstacle, however, could not stop a youth not much given tosubmit to the wishes of his parents. His head was full of theentreaties and persuasion of his companion, and he determined toembark secretly on the _Grampus_, for Mr. Barnard would not haveauthorized him to defy the prohibition of his family. He announcedthat he had been invited to pass a few days with a friend at NewBedford, took leave of his parents and left his home. Forty-eighthours before the brig was to sail, he slipped on board unperceived, and got into a hiding-place which had been prepared for him unknownalike to Mr. Barnard and the crew. 

The cabin occupied by Augustus communicated by a trap-door with thehold of the _Grampus_, which was crowded with barrels, bales, and theinnumerable components of a cargo. Through the trap-door Arthur Pymreached his hiding-place, which was a huge wooden chest with asliding side to it. This chest contained a mattress, blankets, a jarof water, ship’s biscuit, smoked sausage, a roast quarter ofmutton, a few bottles of cordials and liqueurs, and alsowriting-materials. Arthur Pym, supplied with a lantern, candles, andtinder, remained three days and nights in his retreat. AugustusBarnard had not been able to visit him until just before the _Grampus_set sail. 

An hour later, Arthur Pym began to feel the rolling and pitching ofthe brig. He was very uncomfortable in the chest, so he got out ofit, and in the dark, while holding on by a rope which was stretchedacross the hold to the trap of his friend’s cabin, he wasviolently sea-sick in the midst of the chaos. Then he crept backinto his chest, ate, and fell asleep. 

Several days elapsed without the reappearance of Augustus Barnard. Either he had not been able to get down into the hold again, or hehad not ventured to do so, fearing to betray the presence of ArthurPym, and thinking the moment for confessing everything to his fatherhad not yet come. 

Arthur Pym, meanwhile, was beginning to suffer from the hot andvitiated atmosphere of the hold. Terrible nightmares troubled hissleep. He was conscious of raving, and in vain sought some placeamid the mass of cargo where he might breathe a little more easily. In one of these fits of delirium he imagined that he was gripped inthe claws of an African lion, (1) and in a paroxysm of terror he wasabout to betray himself by screaming, when he lost consciousness. 

The fact is that he was not dreaming at all. It was not a lion thatArthur Pym felt crouching upon his chest, it was his own dog, Tiger, a young Newfoundland. The animal had been smuggled on board byAugustus Barnard unperceived by anybody--(this, at least, is anunlikely occurrence). At the moment of Arthur’s coming out of hisswoon the faithful Tiger was licking his face and hands with lavishaffection. 

Now the prisoner had a companion. Unfortunately, the said companionhad drunk the contents of the water jar while Arthur wasunconscious, and when Arthur Pym felt thirsty, he discovered thatthere was “not a drop to drink!” His lantern had gone out duringhis prolonged faint; he could not find the candles and thetinder-box, and he then resolved to rejoin Augustus Barnard at allhazards. He came out of the chest, and although faint from inanitionand trembling with weakness, he felt his way in the direction of thetrap-door by means of the rope. But, while he was approaching, oneof the bales of cargo, shifted by the rolling of the ship, fell downand blocked up the passage. With immense but quite useless exertionhe contrived to get over this obstacle, but when he reached thetrap-door under Augustus Barnard’s cabin he failed to raise it, and on slipping the blade of his knife through One of the joints hefound that a heavy mass of iron was placed upon the trap, as thoughit were intended to condemn him beyond hope. He had to renounce hisattempt and drag himself back towards the chest, on which he fell, exhausted, while Tiger covered him with caresses. 

The master and the dog were desperately thirsty, and when Arthurstretched out his hand, he found Tiger lying on his back, with hispaws up and his hair on end. He then felt Tiger all over, and hishand encountered a string passed round the dog’s body. A strip ofpaper was fastened to the string under his left shoulder. 

Arthur Pym had reached the last stage of weakness. Intelligence wasalmost extinct. However, after several fruitless attempts to procurea light, he succeeded in rubbing the paper with a littlephosphorus--(the details given in Edgar Poe’s narrative arecuriously minute at this point)--and then by the glimmer thatlasted less than a second he discerned just seven words at the endof a sentence. Terrifying words these were: _blood--remainhidden--life depends on it_. 

What did these words mean? Let us consider the situation of ArthurPym, at the bottom of the ship’s hold, between the boards of achest, without light, without water, with only ardent liquor toquench his thirst! And this warning to remain hidden, preceded bythe word “blood “--that supreme word, king of words, so full ofmystery, of suffering, of terror! Had there been strife on board the_Grampus_? Had the brig been attacked by pirates? Had the crewmutinied? How long had this state of things lasted?

It might be thought that the marvellous poet had exhausted theresources of his imagination in the terror of such a situation; butit was not so. There is more to come!

Arthur Pym lay stretched upon his mattress, incapable of thought, ina sort of lethargy; suddenly he became aware of a singular sound, akind of continuous whistling breathing. It was Tiger, panting, Tigerwith eyes that glared in the midst of the darkness, Tiger withgnashing teeth--Tiger gone mad. Another moment and the dog hadsprung upon Arthur Pym, who, wound up to the highest pitch ofhorror, recovered sufficient strength to ward off his fangs, andwrapping around him a blanket which Tiger had torn with his whiteteeth, he slipped out of the chest, and shut the sliding side uponthe snapping and struggling brute. 

Arthur Pym contrived to slip through the stowage of the hold, buthis head swam, and, falling against a bale, he let his knife dropfrom his hand. 

Just as he felt himself breathing his last sigh he heard his namepronounced, and a bottle of water was held to his lips. He swallowedthe whole of its contents, and experienced the most exquisite ofpleasures. 

A few minutes later, Augustus Barnard, seated with his comrade in acorner of the hold, told him all that had occurred on board the brig. 

Up to this point, I repeat, the story is admissible, but we have notyet come to the events which “surpass all probability by theirmarvellousness. ”

The crew of the _Grampus_ numbered thirty-six men, including theBarnards, father and son. After the brig had put to sea on the 20thof June, Augustus Barnard had made several attempts to rejoin ArthurPym in his hiding place, but in vain. On the third day a mutinybroke out on board, headed by the ship’s cook, a negro like ourEndicott; but he, let me say at once, would never have thought ofheading a mutiny. 

Numerous incidents are related in the romance--the massacre of mostof the sailors who remained faithful to Captain Barnard, then theturning adrift of the captain and four of those men in a smallwhaler’s boat when the ship was abreast of the Bermudas. Theseunfortunate persons were never heard of again. 

Augustus Barnard would not have been spared, but for theintervention of the sailing-master of the _Grampus_. Thissailing-master was a half-breed named Dirk Peters, and was theperson whom Captain Len Guy had gone to look for in Illinois!

The _Grampus_ then took a south-east course under the command of themate, who intended to pursue the occupation of piracy in thesouthern seas. 

These events having taken place, Augustus Barnard would again havejoined Arthur Pym, but he had been shut up in the forecastle inirons, and told by the ship’s cook that he would not be allowed tocome out until “the brig should be no longer a brig. ”Nevertheless, a few days afterwards, Augustus contrived to get ridof his fetters, to cut through the thin partition between him andthe hold, and, followed by Tiger, he tried to reach his friend’shiding place. He could not succeed, but the dog had scented ArthurPym, and this suggested to Augustus the idea of fastening a note toTiger’s neck bearing the words:

“I scrawl this with blood--remain hidden--your life depends onit--”

This note, as we have already learned, Arthur Pym had received. Justas he had arrived at the last extremity of distress his friendreached him. 

Augustus added that discord reigned among the mutineers. Some wantedto take the _Grampus_ towards the Cape Verde Islands; others, and DirkPeters was of this number, were bent on sailing to the Pacific Isles. 

Tiger was not mad. He was only suffering from terrible thirst, andsoon recovered when it was relieved. 

The cargo of the _Grampus_ was so badly stowed away that Arthur Pymwas in constant danger from the shifting of the bales, and Augustus, at all risks, helped him to remove to a corner of the ‘tween decks. 

The half-breed continued to be very friendly with the son of CaptainBarnard, so that the latter began to consider whether thesailing-master might not be counted on in an attempt to regainpossession of the ship. 

They were just thirty days out from Nantucket when, on the 4th ofJuly, an angry dispute arose among the mutineers about a little brigsignalled in the offing, which some of them wanted to take andothers would have allowed to escape. In this quarrel a sailorbelonging to the cook’s party, to which Dirk Peters had attachedhimself, was mortally injured. There were now only thirteen men onboard, counting Arthur Pym. 

Under these circumstances a terrible storm arose, and the _Grampus_was mercilessly knocked about. This storm raged until the 9th ofJuly, and on that day, Dirk Peters having manifested an intention ofgetting rid of the mate, Augustus Barnard readily assured him of hisassistance, without, however, revealing the fact of Arthur Pym’spresence on board. Next day, one of the cook’s adherents, a mannamed Rogers, died in convulsions, and, beyond all doubt, of poison. Only four of the cook’s party then remained, of these Dirk Peterswas one. The mate had five, and would probably end by carrying theday over the cook’s party. 

There was not an hour to lose. The half-breed having informedAugustus Barnard that the moment for action had arrived, the lattertold him the truth about Arthur Pym. 

While the two were in consultation upon the means to be employed forregaining possession of the ship, a tempest was raging, andpresently a gust of irresistible force struck the _Grampus_ and flungher upon her side, so that on righting herself she shipped atremendous sea, and there was considerable confusion on board. Thisoffered a favourable opportunity for beginning the struggle, although the mutineers had made peace among themselves. The latternumbered nine men, while the half-breed’s party consisted only ofhimself, Augustus Barnard and Arthur Pym. The ship’s masterpossessed only two pistols and a hanger. It was therefore necessaryto act with prudence. 

Then did Arthur Pym (whose presence on board the mutineers could notsuspect) conceive the idea of a trick which had some chance ofsucceeding. The body of the poisoned sailor was still lying on thedeck; he thought it likely, if he were to put on the dead man’sclothes and appear suddenly in the midst of those superstitioussailors, that their terror would place them at the mercy of DirkPeters. It was still dark when the half-breed went softly towardsthe ship’s stern, and, exerting his prodigious strength to theutmost, threw himself upon the man at the wheel and flung him overthe poop. 

Augustus Barnard and Arthur Pym joined him instantly, each armedwith a belaying-pin. Leaving Dirk Peters in the place of thesteersman, Arthur Pym, so disguised as to present the appearance ofthe dead man, and his comrade, posted themselves close to the headof the forecastle gangway. The mate, the ship’s cook, all theothers were there, some sleeping, the others drinking or talking;guns and pistols were within reach of their hands. 

The tempest raged furiously; it was impossible to stand on the deck. 

At that moment the mate gave the order for Augustus Barnard and DirkPeters to be brought to the forecastle. This order was transmittedto the man at the helm, no other than Dirk Peters, who went down, accompanied by Augustus Barnard, and almost simultaneously ArthurPym made his appearance. 

The effect of the apparition was prodigious. The mate, terrified onbeholding the resuscitated sailor, sprang up, beat the air with hishands, and fell down dead. Then Dirk Peters rushed upon the others, seconded by Augustus Barnard, Arthur Pym, and the dog Tiger. In afew moments all were strangled or knocked on the head save RichardParker, the sailor, whose life was spared. 

And now, while the tempest was in full force, only four men wereleft to work the brig, which was labouring terribly with seven feetof water in her hold. They had to cut down the mainmast, and, whenmorning came, the mizen. That day was truly awful, the night wasmore awful still! If Dirk Peters and his companions had not lashedthemselves securely to the remains of the rigging, they must havebeen carried away by a tremendous sea, which drove in the hatches ofthe _Grampus_. 

Then follows in the romance a minute record of the series ofincidents ensuing upon this situation, from the 14th of July to the7th of August; the fishing for victuals in the submerged hold, thecoming of a mysterious brig laden with corpses, which poisoned theatmosphere and passed on like a huge coffin, the sport of a wind ofdeath; the torments of hunger and thirst; the impossibility ofreaching the provision store; the drawing of lots by straws--theshortest gave Richard Parker to be sacrificed for the life of theother three--the death of that unhappy man, who was killed by DirkPeters and devoured; lastly, the finding in the hold of a jar ofolives and a small turtle. 

Owing to the displacement of her cargo the _Grampus_ rolled andpitched more and more. The frightful heat caused the torture ofthirst to reach the extreme limit of human endurance, and on the 1stof August, Augustus Barnard died. On the 3rd, the brig foundered inthe night, and Arthur Pym and the half-breed, crouching upon theupturned keel, were reduced to feed upon the barnacles with whichthe bottom was covered, in the midst of a crowd of waiting, watchingsharks. Finally, after the shipwrecked mariners of the _Grampus_ haddrifted no less than twenty-five degrees towards the south, theywere picked up by the schooner _Jane_, of Liverpool, Captain WilliamGuy. 

Evidently, reason is not outraged by an admission of the reality ofthese facts, although the situations are strained to the utmostlimits of possibility; but that does not surprise us, for the writeris the American magician-poet, Edgar Poe. But from this momentonwards we shall see that no semblance of reality exists in thesuccession of incidents. 

Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters were well treated on board the Englishschooner _Jane_. In a fortnight, having recovered from the effects oftheir sufferings, they remembered them no more. With alternations offine and bad weather the _Jane_ sighted Prince Edward’s Island onthe 13th of October, then the Crozet Islands, and afterwards theKerguelens, which I had left eleven days ago. 

Three weeks were employed in chasing sea-calves; these furnished the_Jane_ with a goodly cargo. It was during this time that the captainof the _Jane_ buried the bottle in which his namesake of the _Halbrane_claimed to have found a letter containing William Guy’sannouncement of his intention to visit the austral seas. 

On the 12th of November, the schooner left the Kerguelens, and aftera brief stay at Tristan d’Acunha she sailed to reconnoitre theAuroras in 35° 15’ of south latitude, and 37° 38’ of westlongitude. But these islands were not to be found, and she did notfind them. 

On the 12th of December the _Jane_ headed towards the Antarctic pole. On the 26th, the first icebergs came in sight beyond theseventy-third degree. 

From the 1st to the 14th of January, 1828, the movements weredifficult, the polar circle was passed in the midst of ice-floes, the icebergs’ point was doubled and the ship sailed on the surfaceof an open sea--the famous open sea where the temperature is 47°Fahrenheit, and the water is 34°. 

Edgar Poe, every one will allow, gives free rein to his fancy atthis point. No navigator had ever reached latitudes so high--noteven James Weddell of the British Navy, who did not get beyond theseventy-fourth parallel in 1822. But the achievement of the _Jane_, although difficult of belief, is trifling in comparison with thesucceeding incidents which Arthur Pym, or rather Edgar Poe, relateswith simple earnestness. In fact he entertained no doubt of reachingthe pole itself. 

In the first place, not a single iceberg is to be seen on thisfantastic sea. Innumerable flocks of birds skim its surface, amongthem is a pelican which is shot. On a floating piece of ice is abear of the Arctic species and of gigantic size. At last land issignalled. It is an island of a league in circumference, to whichthe name of Bennet Islet was given, in honour of the captain’spartner in the ownership of the _Jane_. 

Naturally, in proportion as the schooner sailed southwards thevariation of the compass became less, while the temperature becamemilder, with a sky always clear and a uniform northerly breeze. Needless to add that in that latitude and in the month of Januarythere was no darkness. 

The _Jane_ pursued her adventurous course, until, on the 18th ofJanuary, land was sighted in latitude 83° 20’ and longitude 43°5’. 

This proved to be an island belonging to a numerous group scatteredabout in a westerly direction. 

The schooner approached and anchored off the shore. Arms were placedin the boats, and Arthur Pym got into one of the latter with DirkPeters. The men rowed shorewards, but were stopped by four canoescarrying armed men, “new men” the narrative calls them. Thesemen showed no hostile intentions, but cried out continuously“anamoo” and “lamalama. ” When the canoes were alongside theschooner, the chief, Too-Wit, was permitted to go on board withtwenty of his companions. There was profound astonishment on theirpart then, for they took theship for a living creature, and lavishedcaresses on the rigging, the masts, and the bulwarks. Steeredbetween the reefs by these natives, she crossed a bay with a bottomof black sand, and cast anchor within a mile of the beach. ThenWilliam Guy, leaving the hostages on board, stepped ashore amid therocks. 

If Arthur Pym is to be believed, this was Tsalal Island! Its treesresembled none of the species in any other zone of our planet. Thecomposition of the rocks revealed a stratification unknown to modernmineralogists. Over the bed of the streams ran a liquid substancewithout any appearance of limpidity, streaked with distinct veins, which did not reunite by immediate cohesion when they were parted bythe blade of a knife!

Klock-Klock, which we are obliged to describe as the chief“town” of the island, consisted of wretched huts entirely formedof black skins; it possessed domestic animals resembling the commonpig, a sort of sheep with a black fleece, twenty kinds of fowls, tame albatross, ducks, and large turtles in great numbers. 

On arriving at Klock-Klock, Captain William Guy and his companionsfound a population--which Arthur Pym estimated at ten thousandsouls, men, women, and children--if not to be feared, at least tobe kept at a distance, so noisy and demonstrative were they. Finally, after a long halt at the hut of Too-Wit, the strangersreturned to the shore, where the “bêche-de-mer”--the favouritefood of the Chinese--would provide enormous cargoes; for thesucculent mollusk is more abundant there than in any other part ofthe austral regions. 

Captain William Guy immediately endeavoured to come to anunderstanding with Too-Wit on this matter, requesting him toauthorize the construction of sheds in which some of the men of the_Jane_ might prepare the bêche-de-mer, while the schooner should holdon her course towards the Pole. Too-Wit accepted this proposalwillingly, and made a bargain by which the natives were to givetheir labour in the gathering-in of the precious mollusk. 

At the end of a month, the sheds being finished, three men were toldoff to remain at Tsalal. The natives had not given the strangerscause to entertain the slightest suspicion of them. Before leavingthe place, Captain William Guy wished to return once more to thevillage of Klock-Klock, having, from prudent motives, left six menon board, the guns charged, the bulwark nettings in their place, theanchor hanging at the forepeak--in a word, all in readiness tooppose an approach of the natives. Too-Wit, escorted by a hundredwarriors, came out to meet the visitors. Captain William Guy and hismen, although the place was propitious to an ambuscade, walked inclose order, each pressing upon the other. On the right, a little inadvance, were Arthur Pym, Dirk Peters, and a sailor named Allen. Having reached a spot where a fissure traversed the hillside, ArthurPym turned into it in order to gather some hazel nuts which hung inclusters upon stunted bushes. Having done this, he was returning tothe path, when he perceived that Allen and the half-breed hadaccompanied him. They were all three approaching the mouth of thefissure, when they were thrown down by a sudden and violent shock. At the same moment the crumbling masses of the hill slid down uponthem and they instantly concluded that they were doomed to be buriedalive. 

Alive--all three? No! Allen had been so deeply covered by thesliding soil that he was already smothered, but Arthur Pym and DirkPeters contrived to drag themselves on their knees, and opening away with their bowie knives, to a projecting mass of harder clay, which had resisted the movement from above, and from thence theyclimbed to a natural platform at the extremity of a wooded ravine. Above them they could see the blue sky-roof, and from their positionwere enabled to survey the surrounding country. 

An artificial landslip, cunningly contrived by the natives, hadtaken place. Captain William Guy and his twenty-eight companions haddisappeared; they were crushed beneath more than a million tons ofearth and stones. 

The plain was swarming with natives who had come, no doubt, from theneighbouring islets, attracted by the prospect of pillaging the_Jane_. Seventy boats were being paddled towards the ship. The six menon board fired on them, but their aim was uncertain in the firstvolley; a second, in which mitraille and grooved bullets were used, produced terrible effect. Nevertheless, the _Jane_ being boarded bythe swarming islanders, her defenders were massacred, and she wasset on fire. 

Finally a terrific explosion took place--the fire had reached thepowder store--killing a thousand natives and mutilating as manymore, while the others fled, uttering the cry of _tékéli-li!tékéli-li!_

During the following week, Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters, living onnuts and bitterns’ flesh, escaped discovery by the natives, whodid not suspect their presence. They found themselves at the bottomof a sort of dark abyss including several planes, but without issue, hollowed out from the hillside, and of great extent. The two mencould not live in the midst of these successive abysses, and afterseveral attempts they let themselves slide on one of the slopes ofthe hill. Instantly, six savages rushed upon them; but, thanks totheir pistols, and the extraordinary strength of the half-breed, four of the assailants were killed. The fifth was dragged away bythe fugitives, who reached a boat which had been pulled up on thebeach and was laden with three huge turtles. A score of nativespursued and vainly tried to stop them; the former were driven off, and the boat was launched successfully and steered for the south. 

Arthur Pym was then navigating beyond the eighty-fourth degree ofsouth latitude. It was the beginning of March, that is to say, theantarctic winter was approaching. Five or six islands, which it wasprudent to avoid, were visible towards the west. Arthur Pym’sopinion was that the temperature would become more mild by degreesas they approached the pole. They tied together two white shirtswhich they had been wearing, and hoisted them to do duty as a sail. At sight of these shirts the native, who answered to the name ofNu-Nu, was terrified. For eight days this strange voyage continued, favoured by a mild wind from the north, in permanent daylight, on asea without a fragment of ice, indeed, owing to the high and eventemperature of the water, no ice had been seen since the parallel ofBennet Island. 

Then it was that Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters entered upon a region ofnovelty and wonder. Above the horizon line rose a broad bar of lightgrey vapour, striped with long luminous rays, such as are projectedby the polar aurora. A very strong current came to the aid of thebreeze. The boat sailed rapidly upon a liquid surface of milkyaspect, exceedingly hot, and apparently agitated from beneath. Afine white ash-dust began to fall, and this increased the terror ofNu-Nu, whose lips trembled over his two rows of black ivory. 

On the 9th of March this rain of ashes fell in redoubled volume, andthe temperature of the water rose so high that the hand could nolonger bear it. The immense curtain of vapour, spread over thedistant perimeter of the southern horizon resembled a boundlesscataract falling noiselessly from the height of some huge rampartlost in the height of the heavens. 

Twelve days later, it was darkness that hung over these waters, darkness furrowed by luminous streaks darting from the milky depthsof the Antarctic Ocean, while the incessant shower of ash-dust felland melted in its waters. 

The boat approached the cataract with an impetuous velocity whosecause is not explained in the narrative of Arthur Pym. In the midstof this frightful darkness a flock of gigantic birds, of livid whiteplumage, swept by, uttering their eternal _tékéli-li_, and then thesavage, in the supreme throes of terror, gave up the ghost. 

Suddenly, in a mad whirl of speed, the boat rushed into the grasp ofthe cataract, where a vast gulf seemed ready to swallow it up. Butbefore the mouth of this gulf there stood a veiled human figure, ofgreater size than any inhabitant of this earth, and the colour ofthe man’s skin was the perfect whiteness of snow. 

Such is the strange romance conceived by the more than human geniusof the greatest poet of the New World. 

(1) The American “lion” is only a small species of pumas and notformidable enough to terrify a Nantucket youth. J. V. 

CHAPTER VI. AN OCEAN WAIF. 

The navigation of the _Halbrane_ went on prosperously with the help ofthe sea and the wind. In fifteen days, if this state of thingslasted, she might reach Tristan d’Acunha. Captain Len Guy left theworking of the ship to James West, and well might he do so; therewas nothing to fear with such a seaman as he. 

“Our lieutenant has not his match afloat, ” said Hurliguerly tome one day. “He ought to be in command of a flag-ship. ”

“Indeed, ” I replied, “he seems to be a true son of the sea. ”

“And then, our _Halbrane_, what a craft! Congratulate yourself, Mr. Jeorling, and congratulate yourself also that I succeeded inbringing the captain to change his mind about you. ”

“If it was you who obtained that result, boatswain, I thank youheartily. ”

“And so you ought, for he was plaguily against it, was ourcaptain, in spite of all old man Atkins could say. But I managed tomake him hear reason. ”

“I shan’t forget it, boatswain, I shan’t forget it, since, thanks to your intervention, instead of moping at Kerguelen. I hopeshortly to get within sight of Tristan d’Acunha. ”

“In a few days, Mr. Jeorling. Only think, sir, according to what Ihear tell, they are making ships in England and America withmachines in their insides, and wheels which they use as a duck usesits paddles. All right, we shall know what’s the good of them whenthey come into use. My notion is, however, that those ships willnever be able to fight with a fine frigate sailing with a freshbreeze. ”

*****

It was the 3rd of September. If nothing occurred to delay us, ourschooner would be in sight of port in three days. The chief islandof the group is visible on clear days at a great distance. 

That day, between ten and eleven o’clock in the morning, I waswalking backwards and forwards on the deck, on the windward side. Wewere sliding smoothly over the surface of an undulating sea. The_Halbrane_ resembled an enormous bird, one of the gigantic albatrosskind described by Arthur Pym--which had spread its sail-like wings, and was carrying a whole ship’s crew towards space. 

James West was looking out through his glasses to starboard at anobject floating two or three miles away, and several sailors, hanging over the side, were also curiously observing it. 

I went forward and looked attentively at the object. It was anirregularly formed mass about twelve yards in length, and in themiddle of it there appeared a shining lump. 

“That is no whale, ” said Martin Holt, the sailing-master. “Itwould have blown once or twice since we have been looking at it. ”

“Certainly!” assented Hardy. “Perhaps it is the carcase ofsome deserted ship. ”

“May the devil send it to the bottom!” cried Roger. “It wouldbe a bad job to come up against it in the dark; it might send usdown before we could know what had happened. ”

“I believe you, ” added Drap, “and these derelicts are moredangerous than a rock, for they are now here and again there, andthere’s no avoiding them. ”

Hurliguerly came up at this moment and planted his elbows on thebulwark, alongside of mine. 

“What do you think of it, boatswain?” I asked. 

“It is my opinion, Mr. Jeorling, ” replied the boatswain, “thatwhat we see there is neither a blower nor a wreck, but merely a lumpof ice. ”

“Hurliguerly is right, ” said James West; “it is a lump of ice, a piece of an iceberg which the currents have carried hither. ”

“What?” said I, “to the forty-fifth parallel?”

”Yes, sir, ” answered West, “that has occurred, and the icesometimes gets up as high as the Cape, if we are to take the word ofa French navigator, Captain Blosseville, who met one at this heightin 1828. ”

“Then this mass will melt before long, ” I observed, feeling nota little surprised that West had honoured me by so lengthy a reply. 

”It must indeed be dissolved in great part already, ” hecontinued, “and what we see is the remains of a mountain of icewhich must have weighed millions of tons. ”

Captain Len Guy now appeared, and perceiving the group of sailorsaround West, he came forward. A few words were exchanged in a lowtone between the captain and the lieutenant, and the latter passedhis glass to the former, who turned it upon the floating object, nowat least a mile nearer to us. 

“It is ice, ” said he, ”and it is lucky that it is dissolving. The _Halbrane_ might have come to serious grief by collision with itin the night. ”

I was struck by the fixity of his gaze upon the object, whose naturehe had so promptly declared: he continued to contemplate it forseveral minutes, and I guessed what was passing in the mind of theman under the obsession of a fixed idea. This fragment of ice, tornfrom the southern icebergs, came from those waters wherein histhoughts continually ranged. He wanted to see it more near, perhapsat close quarters, it might be to take away some bits of it. At anorder from West the schooner was directed towards the floating mass;presently we were within two cables’-length, and I could examineit. 

The mound in the center was melting rapidly; before the end of theday nothing would remain of the fragment of ice which had beencarried by the currents so high up as the forty-fifth parallel. 

Captain Len Guy gazed at it steadily, but he now needed no glass, and presently we all began to distinguish a second object whichlittle by little detached itself from the mass, according as themelting process went on--a black shape, stretched on the white ice. 

What was our surprise, mingled with horror, when we saw first anarm, then a leg, then a trunk, then a head appear, forming a humanbody, not in a state of nakedness, but clothed in dark garments. 

For a moment I even thought that the limbs moved, that the handswere stretched towards us. 

The crew uttered a simultaneous cry. No! this body was not moving, but it was slowly slipping off the icy surface. 

I looked at Captain Len Guy. His face was as livid as that of thecorpse that had drifted down from the far latitudes of the australzone. What could be done was done to recover the body of theunfortunate man, and who can tell whether a faint breath of life didnot animate it even then? In any case his pockets might perhapscontain some document that would enable his identity to beestablished. Then, accompanied by a last prayer, those human remainsshould be committed to the depths of the ocean, the cemetery ofsailors who die at sea. 

A boat Was let down. I followed it with my eyes as it neared theside of the ice fragment eaten by the waves. 

Hurliguerly set foot upon a spot which still offered someresistance. Gratian got out after him, while Francis kept the boatfast by the chain. The two crept along the ice until they reachedthe corpse, then drew it to them by the arms and legs and so got itinto the boat. A few strokes of the oars and the boatswain hadrejoined the schooner. The corpse, completely frozen, having beenlaid at the foot of the mizen mast, Captain Len Guy approached andexamined it long and closely, as though he sought to recognize it. 

It was the corpse of a sailor, dressed in coarse stuff, woollentrousers and a patched jersey; a belt encircled his waist twice. Hisdeath had evidently occurred some months previously, probably verysoon after the unfortunate man had been carried away by the drift. He was about forty, with slightly grizzled hair, a mere skeletoncovered with skin. He must have suffered agonies of hunger. 

Captain Len Guy lifted up the hair, which had been preserved by thecold, raised the head, gazed upon the scaled eyelids, and finallysaid with a sort of sob, --

“Patterson! Patterson!”

“Patterson?” I exclaimed. 

The name, common as it was, touched some chord in my memory. Whenhad I heard it uttered? Had I read it anywhere?

At this moment, James West, on a hint from the boatswain, searchedthe pockets of the dead man, and took out of them a knife, somestring, an empty tobacco box, and lastly a leather pocket-bookfurnished with a metallic pencil. 

“Give me that, ” said the captain. Some of the leaves werecovered with writing, almost entirely effaced by the damp. He found, however, some words on the last page which were still legible, andmy emotion may be imagined when I heard him read aloud in atrembling voice: “The _Jane . . . _ Tsalal island . . . Byeighty-three . . . There . . . Eleven years . . . Captain . . . Fivesailors surviving . . . Hasten to bring them aid. ”

And under these lines was a name, a signature, the name of Patterson!

Then I remembered! Patterson was the second officer of the _Jane_, themate of that schooner which had picked up Arthur Pym and Dirk Peterson the wreck of the _Grampus_, the _Jane_ having reached Tsalal Island;the _Jane_ which was attacked by natives and blown up in the midst ofthose waters. 

So then it was all true? Edgar Poe’s work was that of anhistorian, not a writer of romance? Arthur Gordon Pym’s journalhad actually been confided to him! Direct relations had beenestablished between them! Arthur Pym existed, or rather he hadexisted, he was a real being! And he had died, by a sudden anddeplorable death under circumstances not revealed before he hadcompleted the narrative of his extraordinary voyage. And whatparallel had he reached on leaving Tsalal Island with his companion, Dirk Peters, and how had both of them been restored to their nativeland, America?

I thought my head was turning, that I was going mad--I who accusedCaptain Guy of being insane! No! I had not heard aright! I hadmisunderstood! This was a mere phantom of my fancy!

And yet, how was I to reject the evidence found on the body of themate of the _Jane_, that Patterson whose words were supported byascertained dates? And above all, how could I retain a doubt, afterJames West, who was the most self-possessed among us, had succeededin deciphering the following fragments of sentences:--

“Drifting since the 3rd of June north of Tsalal Island... Stillthere... Captain William Guy and five of the men of the _Jane_--thepiece of ice I am on is drifting across the iceberg... Food will soonfail me... Since the 13th of June... My last resourcesexhausted... To-day... 16th of June . . . I am going to die. ”

So then for nearly three months Patterson’s body had lain on thesurface of this ice-waif which we had met on our way from theKerguelens to Tristan d’Acunha! Ah! why had we not saved the mateof the _Jane_!

I had to yield to evidence. Captain Len Guy, who knew Patterson, hadrecognized him in this frozen corpse! It was indeed he whoaccompanied the captain of the _Jane_ when he had interred thatbottle, containing the letter which I had refused to believeauthentic, at the Kerguelens. Yes! for eleven years, the survivorsof the English schooner had been cast away there without any hope ofsuccour. 

Len Guy turned to me and said, “Do you believe--_now_?”

“I believe, ” said I, falteringly; “but Captain William Guy ofthe _Jane_, and Captain Len Guy of the _Halbrane_--”

“Are brothers!” he cried in a loud voice, which was heard by allthe crew. 

Then we turned our eyes once more to the place where the lump of icehad been floating; but the double influence of the solar rays andthe waters in this latitude had produced its effect, no trace of thedead man’s last refuge remained on the surface of the sea. 

CHAPTER VII. TRISTAN D’ACUNHA. 

Four days later, the _Halbrane_ neared that curious island of Tristand’Acunha, which may be described as the big boiler of the Africanseas. By that time I had come to realize that the“hallucination” of Captain Len Guy was a truth, and that he andthe captain of the _Jane_ (also a reality) were connected with eachother by this ocean waif from the authentic expedition of ArthurPym. My last doubts were buried in the depths of the ocean with thebody of Patterson. 

And now, what was Captain Len Guy going to do? There was not ashadow of doubt on that point. He would take the _Halbrane_ to TsalalIsland, as marked upon Patterson’s note-book. His lieutenant, James West, would go whithersoever he was ordered to go; his crewwould not hesitate to follow him, and would not be stopped by anyfear of passing the limits assigned to human power, for the soul oftheir captain and the strength of their lieutenant would be in them. 

This, then, was the reason why Captain Len Guy refused to takepassengers on board his ship, and why he had told me that his routesnever were certain; he was always hoping that an opportunity forventuring into the sea of ice might arise. Who could tell indeed, whether he would not have sailed for the south at once withoutputting in at Tristan d’Acunha, if he had not wanted water? Afterwhat I had said before I went on board the _Halbrane_, I should havehad no right to insist on his proceeding to the island for the solepurpose of putting me ashore. But a supply of water wasindispensable, and besides, it might be possible there to put theschooner in a condition to contend with the icebergs and gain theopen sea--since open it was beyond the eighty-second parallel---infact to attempt what Lieutenant Wilkes of the American Navy was thenattempting. 

The navigators knew at this period, that from the middle of Novemberto the beginning of March was the limit during which some successmight be looked for. The temperature is more bearable then, stormsare less frequent, the icebergs break loose from the mass, the icewall has holes in it, and perpetual day reigns in that distantregion. 

Tristan d’Acunha lies to the south of the zone of the regularsouth-west winds. Its climate is mild and moist. The prevailingwinds are west and north-west, and, during the winter--August andSeptember--south. The island was inhabited, from 1811, by Americanwhale fishers. After them, English soldiers were installed there towatch the St. Helena seas, and these remained until after the deathof Napoleon, in 1821. Several years later the group of islandspopulated by Americans and Dutchmen from the Cape acknowledged thesuzerainty of Great Britain, but this was not so in 1839. Mypersonal observation at that date convinced me that the possessionof Tristan d’Acunha was not worth disputing. In the sixteenthcentury the islands were called the Land of Life. 

On the 5th of September, in the morning, the towering volcano of thechief island was signalled; a huge snow-covered mass, whose craterformed the basin of a small lake. Next day, on our approach, wecould distinguish a vast heaped-up lava field. At this distance thesurface of the water was striped with gigantic seaweeds, vegetableropes, varying in length from six hundred to twelve hundred feet, and as thick as a wine barrel. 

Here I should mention that for three days subsequent to the findingof the fragment of ice, Captain Len Guy came on deck for strictlynautical purposes only, and I had no opportunities of seeing himexcept at meals, when he maintained silence, that not even JamesWest could have enticed him to break. I made no attempt to do this, being convinced that the hour would come when Len Guy would againspeak to me of his brother, and of the efforts which he intended tomake to save him and his companions. Now, I repeat, the season beingconsidered, that hour had not come, when the schooner cast anchor onthe 6th of September at Ansiedling, in Falmouth Bay, precisely inthe place indicated in Arthur Pym’s narrative as the moorings ofthe _Jane_. 

At the period of the arrival of the _Jane_, an ex-corporal of theEnglish artillery, named Glass, reigned over a little colony oftwenty-six individuals, who traded with the Cape, and whose onlyvessel was a small schooner. At our arrival this Glass had more thanfifty subjects, and was, as Arthur Pym remarked, quite independentof the British Government. Relations with the ex-corporal wereestablished on the arrival of the _Halbrane_, and he proved veryfriendly and obliging. West, to whom the captain left the businessof refilling the water tanks and taking in supplies of fresh meatand vegetables, had every reason to be satisfied with Glass, who, nodoubt, expected to be paid, and was paid, handsomely. 

The day after our arrival I met ex-corporal Glass, a vigorous, well-preserved man, whose sixty years had not impaired hisintelligent vivacity. Independently of his trade with the Cape andthe Falklands, he did an important business in seal-skins and theoil of marine animals, and his affairs were prosperous. As heappeared very willing to talk, I entered briskly into conversationwith this self-appointed Governor of a contented little colony, byasking him, --

“Do many ships put in to Tristan d’Acunha?”

“As many as we require, ” he replied, rubbing his bands togetherbehind his back, according to his invariable custom. 

“In the fine season?”

“Yes, in the fine season, if indeed we can be said to have anyother in these latitudes. ”

“I congratulate you, Mr. Glass. But it is to be regretted thatTristan d’Acunha has not a single port. If you possessed alanding-stage, now?”

“For what purpose, sir, when nature has provided us with such abay as this, where there is shelter from gales, and it is easy tolie snug right up against the rocks? No, Tristan has no port, andTristan can do without one. ”

Why should I have contradicted this good man? He was proud of hisisland, just as the Prince of Monaco is justly proud of his tinyprincipality. 

I did not persist, and we talked of various things. He offered toarrange for me an excursion to the depths of the thick forests, which clothed the volcano up to the middle of the central cove. 

I thanked him, but declined his offer, preferring to employ myleisure on land in some mineralogical studies. Besides, the _Halbrane_was to set sail so soon as she had taken in her provisions. 

“Your captain is in a remarkable hurry!” said Governor Glass. 

“You think so?”

“He is in such haste that his lieutenant does not even talk ofbuying skins or oil from me. ”

“We require only fresh victuals and fresh water, Mr. Glass. ”

“Very well, ” replied the Governor, who was rather annoyed, “what the _Halbrane_ will not take other vessels will. ”

Then he resumed, --

“And where is your schooner bound for on leaving us?”

“For the Falklands, no doubt, where she can be repaired. ”

“You, sir, are only a passenger, I suppose?”

“As you say, Mr. Glass, and I had even intended to remain atTristan d’Acunha for some weeks. But I have had to relinquish thatproject. ”

“I am sorry to hear it, sir. We should have been happy to offeryou hospitality while awaiting the arrival of another ship. ”

“Such hospitality would have been most valuable to me, ” Ireplied, “but unfortunately I cannot avail myself of it. ”

In fact, I had finally resolved not to quit the schooner, but toembark for America from the Falkland Isles with out much delay. Ifelt sure that Captain Len Guy would not refuse to take me to theislands. I informed Mr. Glass of my intention, and he remarked, still in a tone of annoyance, --

“As for your captain, I have not even seen the colour of hishair. ”

“I don’t think he has any intention of coming ashore. ”

“Is he ill?”

“Not to my knowledge. But it does not concern you, since he hassent his lieutenant to represent him. ”

“Oh, he’s a cheerful person! One may extract two words from himoccasionally. Fortunately, it is easier to get coin out of hispocket than speech out of his lips. ”

“That’s the important thing, Mr. Glass. ”

“You are right, sir--Mr. Jeorling, of Connecticut, I believe?”

I assented. 

“So! I know your name, while I have yet to learn that of thecaptain of the _Halbrane_. ”

“His name is Guy--Len Guy. ”

“An Englishman?”

“Yes--an Englishman. ”

“He might have taken the trouble to pay a visit to a countryman ofhis, Mr. Jeorling! But stay! I had some dealings formerly with acaptain of that name. Guy, Guy--”

“William Guy?” I asked, quickly. 

“Precisely. William Guy. ”

“Who commanded the _Jane_?”

“The _Jane_? Yes. The same man. ”

“An English schooner which put in at Tristan d’Acunha elevenyears ago?”

“Eleven years, Mr. Jeorling. I had been settled in the islandwhere Captain Jeffrey, of the _Berwick_, of London, found me in theyear 1824, for full seven years. I perfectly recall this WilliamGuy, as if he were before me. He was a fine, open-hearted fellow, and I sold him a cargo of seal-skins. He had the air of a gentleman, rather proud, but good-natured. ”

“And the _Jane_!”

“I can see her now at her moorings in the same place as the_Halbrane_. She was a handsome vessel of one hundred and eighty tons, very slender for’ards. She belonged to the port of Liverpool. ”

“Yes; that is true, all that is true. ”

“And is the _Jane_ still afloat, Mr. Jeorling?”

“No, Mr. Glass. ”

“Was she lost?”

“The fact is only too true, and the greater part of her crew withher. ”

“Will you tell me how this happened?”

“Willingly. On leaving Tristan d’Acunha the _Jane_ headed for thebearings of the Aurora and other islands, which William Guy hoped torecognize from information--”

“That came from me, ” interrupted the ex-corporal. “And thoseother islands, may I learn whether the _Jane_ discovered them?”

“No, nor the Auroras either, although William Guy remained severalweeks in those waters, running from east to west, with a look-outalways at the masthead. ”

“He must have lost his bearings, Mr. Jeorling, for, if severalwhalers, who were well deserving of credit, are to be believed, these islands do exist, and it was even proposed to give them myname. ”

“That would have been but just, ” I replied politely. “It willbe very vexatious if they are not discovered some day, ” added theGovernor, in a tone which indicated that he was not devoid of vanity. 

“It was then, ” I resumed, “that Captain Guy resolved to carryout a project he had long cherished, and in which he was encouragedby a certain passenger who was on board the _Jane_--”

“Arthur Gordon Pym, ” exclaimed Glass, “and his companion, oneDirk Peters; the two had been picked up at sea by the schooner. ”

“You knew them, Mr. Glass?” I asked eagerly. 

“Knew them, Mr. Jeorling? I should think I did, indeed! ThatArthur Pym was a strange person, always wanting to rush intoadventures--a real rash American, quite capable of starting off tothe moon! Has he gone there at last?”

“No, not quite, Mr. Glass, but, during her voyage, the schooner, it seems, did clear the polar circle, and pass the ice-wall. She gotfarther than any ship had ever done before. ”

“What a wonderful feat!”

“Yes. Unfortunately, the _Jane_ did not return. Arthur Pym andWilliam Guy escaped the doom of the _Jane_ and the most of her crew. They even got back to America, how I do not know. Afterwards ArthurPym died, but under what circumstances I am ignorant. As for thehalf-breed, after having retired to Illinois, he went off one daywithout a word to anyone and no trace of him has been found. ”

“And William Guy?” asked Mr. Glass. 

I related the finding of the body of Patterson, the mate of the_Jane_, and I added that everything led to the belief that the captainof the _Jane_ and five of his companions were still living on anisland in the austral regions, at less than six degrees from thePole. 

“Ah, Mr. Jeorling, ” cried Glass, “if some day William Guy andhis sailors might be saved! They seemed to me to be such finefellows. ”

“That is just what the _Halbrane_ is certainly going to attempt, sosoon as she is ready, for her captain, Len Guy, is William Guy’sown brother. ”

“Is it possible? Well, although I do not know Captain Len Guy, Iventure to assert that the brothers do not resemble each other--atleast in their behaviour to the Governor of Tristan d’Acunha!”

It was plain that the Governor was profoundly mortified, but nodoubt he consoled himself by the prospect of selling his goods attwenty-five per cent above their value. 

One thing was certain: Captain Len Guy had no intention of comingashore. This was the more singular, inasmuch as he could not beunaware that the _Jane_ had put in at Tristan d’Acunha beforeproceeding to the southern seas. Surely he might be expected to puthimself in communication with the last European who had shaken handswith his brother!

Nevertheless, Captain Len Guy remained persistently on board hisship, without even going on deck; and, looking through the glassskylight of his cabin, I saw him perpetually stooping over thetable, which was covered with open books and out-spread charts. Nodoubt the charts were those of the austral latitudes, and the bookswere narratives of the precursors of the _Jane_ in those mysteriousregions of the south. 

On the table lay also a volume which had been read and re-read ahundred times. Most of its pages were dogs’-eared and theirmargins were filled with pencilled notes. And on the cover shone thetitle in brightly gilded letters:

THE ADVENTURES OF ARTHUR GORDON PYM. 

CHAPTER VIII. BOUND FOR THE FALKLANDS. 

On the 8th of September, in the evening, I had taken leave of HisExcellency the Governor-General of the Archipelago of Tristand’Acunha--for such is the official title bestowed upon himself bythat excellent fellow, Glass, ex-corporal of artillery in theBritish Army. On the following day, before dawn, the _Halbrane_ sailed. 

After we had rounded Herald Point, the few houses of Ansiedlungdisappeared behind the extremity of Falmouth Bay. A fine breeze fromthe east carried us along gaily. 

During the morning we left behind us in succession Elephant Bay, Hardy Rock, West Point, Cotton Bay, and Daly’s Promontory; but ittook the entire day to lose sight of the volcano of Tristand’Acunha, which is eight thousand feet high; its snow-clad bulkwas at last veiled by the shades of evening. 

During that week our voyage proceeded under the most favourableconditions; if these were maintained, the end of the month ofSeptember ought to bring us within sight of the first peaks of theFalkland Group; and so, very sensibly towards the south; theschooner having descended from the thirty-eighth parallel to thefifty-fifth degree of latitude. 

The most daring, or, perhaps I ought to say, the most lucky of thosediscoverers who had preceded the _Halbrane_, under the command ofCaptain Len Guy, in the Antarctic seas, had not gone beyond--Kemp, the sixty-sixth parallel; Ballerry, the sixty-seventh; Biscoe, thesixty-eighth; Bellinghausen and Morrell, the seventieth; Cook, theseventy-first; Weddell, the seventy-fourth. And it was beyond theeighty-third, nearly five hundred and fifty miles farther, that wemust go to the succour of the survivors of the _Jane_!

I confess that for a practical man of unimaginative temperament, Ifelt strangely excited; a nervous restlessness had taken possessionof me. I was haunted by the figures of Arthur Pym and hiscompanions, lost in Antarctic ice-deserts. I began to feel a desireto take part in the proposed undertaking of Captain Len Guy. Ithought about it incessantly. As a fact there was nothing to recallme to America. It is true that whether I should get the consent ofthe commander of the _Halbrane_ remained to be seen; but, after all, why should he refuse to keep me as a passenger? Would it not be avery “human” satisfaction to him to give me material proof thathe was in the right, by taking me to the very scene of a catastrophethat I had regarded as fictitious, showing me the remains of the_Jane_ at Tsalal, and landing me on that selfsame island which I haddeclared to be a myth?

Nevertheless, I resolved to wait, before I came to any definitedetermination, until an opportunity of speaking to the captainshould arise. 

After an interval of unfavourable weather, during which the _Halbrane_made but slow progress, on the 4th of October, in the morning, theaspect of the sky and the sea underwent a marked change. The windbecame calm, the waves abated, and the next day the breeze veered tothe north-west. This was very favourable to us, and in ten days, with a continuance of such fortunate conditions, we might hope toreach the Falklands. 

It was on the 11th that the opportunity of an explanation withCaptain Len Guy was presented to me, and by himself, for he came outof his cabin, advanced to the side of the ship where I was seated, and took his place at my side. 

Evidently he wished to talk to me, and of what, if not the subjectwhich entirely absorbed him? He began by saying:

“I have not yet had the pleasure of a chat with you, Mr. Jeorling, since our departure from Tristan d’Acunha!”

“To my regret, captain, ” I replied, but with reserve, for Iwanted him to make the running. 

“I beg you to excuse me, ” he resumed, “I have so many thingsto occupy me and make me anxious. A plan of campaign to organize, inwhich nothing must be unforeseen or unprovided for. I beg you not tobe displeased with me--”

“I am not, I assure you. ”

“That is all right, Mr. Jeorling; and now that I know you, that Iam able to appreciate you, I congratulate myself upon having you fora passenger until our arrival at the Falklands. ”

“I am very grateful, captain, for what you have done for me, and Ifeel encouraged to--”

The moment seemed propitious to my making my proposal, when CaptainLen Guy interrupted me. 

“Well, Mr. Jeorling, ” he asked, “are you now convinced of thereality of the voyage of the _Jane_, or do you still regard EdgarPoe’s book as a work of pure imagination?”

“I do not so regard it, captain. ”

“You no longer doubt that Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters have reallyexisted, or that my brother William Guy and five of his companionsare living?”

“I should be the most incredulous of men, captain, to doubt eitherfact, and my earnest desire is that the favour of Heaven may attendyou and secure the safety of the shipwrecked mariners of the _Jane_. ”

“I will do all in my power, Mr. Jeorling, and by the blessing ofGod I shall succeed. ”

“I hope so, captain. Indeed, I am certain it will be so, and ifyou consent--”

“Is it not the case that you talked of this matter with one Glass, an English ex-corporal, who sets up to be Governor of Tristand’Acunha?” inquired the captain, without allowing me to finishmy sentence. 

“That is so, ” I replied, “and what I learned from Glass hascontributed not a little to change my doubts into certainty. ”

“Ah I he has satisfied you?”

“Yes. He perfectly remembers to have seen the _Jane_, eleven yearsago, when she had put in at Tristan d’Acunha. ”

“The _Jane_--and my brother?”

“He told me that he had personal dealings with Captain WilliamGuy. ”

“And he traded with the _Jane_?”

“Yes, as he has just been trading with the _Halbrane_. ”

“She was moored in this bay?”

“In the same place as your schooner. ”

“And--Arthur Pym--Dirk Peters?”

“He was with them frequently. ”

“Did he ask what had become of them?”

“Oh yes, and I informed him of the death of Arthur Pym, whom heregarded as a foolhardy adventurer, capable of any daring folly. ”

“Say a madman, and a dangerous madman, Mr. Jeorling. Was it not hewho led my unfortunate brother into that fatal enterprise?”

“There is, indeed, reason to believe so from his narrative. ”

“And never to forget it! added the captain in a tone of agitation. 

“This man, Glass, ” I resumed, “also knew Patterson, the mateof the _Jane_. ”

“He was a fine, brave, faithful fellow, Mr. Jeorling, and devoted, body and soul, to my brother. ”

“As West is to you, captain. ”

“Does Glass know where the shipwrecked men from the _Jane_ arenow?”

“I told him, captain, and also all that you have resolved to do tosave them. ”

I did not think proper to add that Glass had been much surprised atCaptain Guy’s abstaining from visiting him, as, in his absurdvanity, he held the commander of the _Halbrane_ bound to do, nor thathe did not consider the Governor of Tristan d’Acunha bound to takethe initiative. 

“I wish to ask you, Mr. Jeorling, whether you think everything inArthur Pym’s journal, which has been published by Edgar Poe, isexactly true?”

“I think there is some need for doubt, ” I answered “thesingular character of the hero of those adventures being taken intoconsideration--at least concerning the phenomena of the island ofTsalal. And we know that Arthur Pym was mistaken in asserting thatCaptain William Guy and several of his companions perished in thelandslip of the hill at Klock-Klock. ”

“Ah! but he does not assert this, Mr. Jeorling! He says only that, when he and Dirk Peters had reached the opening through which theycould discern the surrounding country, the seat of the artificialearthquake was revealed to them. Now, as the whole face of the hillwas rushing into the ravine, the fate of my brother and twenty-nineof his men could not be doubtful to his mind. He was, mostnaturally, led to believe that Dirk Peters and himself were the onlywhite men remaining alive on the island. He said nothing butthis--nothing more. These were only suppositions--very reasonable, are they not?”

“I admit that, fully, captain. ”

“But now, thanks to Patterson’s note-book, we are certain thatmy brother and five of his companions escaped from the landslipcontrived by the natives. ”

“That is quite clear, captain. But, as to what became of thesurvivors of the _Jane_, whether they were taken by the natives ofTsalal and kept in captivity, or remained free, Patterson’snote-book says nothing, nor does it relate under what circumstanceshe himself was carried far away from them. ”

“All that we shall learn, Mr. Jeorling. Yes, we shall know all. The main point is that we are quite sure my brother and five of hissailors were living less than four months ago on some part of TsalalIsland. There is now no question of a romance signed ‘EdgarPoe, ’ but of a veracious narrative signed ‘Patterson. ’“

“Captain, ” said I, “will you let me be one of your companyuntil the end of the campaign of the _Halbrane_ in the Antarcticseas?”

Captain Len Guy looked at me with a glance as penetrating as a keenblade. Otherwise hedid not appear surprised by the proposal I hadmade; perhaps he had been expecting it--and he uttered only thesingle word:

“Willingly. ”

CHAPTER IX. FITTING OUT THE _HALBRANE_

On the 15th of October, our schooner cast anchor in Port Egmont, onthe north of West Falkland. The group is composed of two islands, one the above-named, the other Soledad or East Falkland. Captain LenGuy gave twelve hours’ leave to the whole crew. The next day theproceedings were to begin by a careful and minute inspection of thevessel’s hull and keel, in view of the contemplated prolongednavigation of the Antarctic seas. That day Captain Len Guy wentashore, to confer with the Governor of the group on the subject ofthe immediate re-victualling of the schooner. He did not intend tomake expense a consideration, because the whole adventure might bewrecked by an unwise economy. Besides I was ready to aid with mypurse, as I told him, and I intended that we should be partners intile cost of this expedition. 

James West remained on board all day, according to his custom in theabsence of the captain, and was engaged until evening in theinspection of the hold. I did not wish to go ashore until the nextday. I should have ample time while we remained in port to explorePort Egmont and its surroundings, and to study the geology andmineralogy of the island. Hurliguerly regarded the opportunity ashighly favourable for the renewal of talk with me, and availedhimself of it accordingly. He accosted me as follows:

“Accept my sincere compliments, Mr. Jeorling?”

“And wherefore, boatswain?”

“On account of what I have just heard--that you are to come withus to the far end of the Antarctic seas. ”

“Oh! not so far, I imagine, and if it is not a matter of goingbeyond the eighty-fourth parallel--”

“Who can tell, ” replied the boatswain, “at all events the_Halbrane_ will make more degrees of latitude than any other shipbefore her. ”

“We shall see. ”

“And does that not alarm you, Mr. Jeorling?”

“Not in the very least. ”

“Nor us, rest assured. No, no! You see, Mr. Jeorling, our captainis a good one, although he is no talker. You only need to take himthe right way! First he gives you the passage to Tristan d’Acunhathat he refused you at first, and now he extends it to the pole. ”

“The pole is not the question, boatswain. ”

“Ah! it will be reached at last, some day. ”

“The thing has not yet been done. And, besides, I don’t takemuch interest in the pole, and have no ambition to conquer it. Inany case it is only to Tsalal Island--”

“Tsalal Island, of course. Nevertheless, you will acknowledge thatour captain has been very accommodating to you, and--”

“And therefore I am much obliged to him, boatswain, and, ” Ihastened to add, ”to you also; since it is to your influence I owemy passage. ”

“Very likely. ” Hurliguerly, a good fellow at bottom, as Iafterwards learned, discerned a little touch of irony in my tone;but he did not appear to do so; he was resolved to persevere in hispatronage of me. And, indeed, his conversation could not beotherwise than profitable to me, for he was thoroughly acquaintedwith the Falkland Islands. The result was that on the following dayI went ashore adequately prepared to begin my perquisitions. At thatperiod the Falklands were not utilized as they have been since. 

It was at a later date that Port Stanley--described by EliséeRéclus, the French geographer, as “ideal”--was discovered. Port Stanley is sheltered at every point of the compass, and couldcontain all the fleets of Great Britain. 

If I had been sailing for the last two months with bandaged eyes, and without knowing whither the _Halbrane_ was bound, and had beenasked during the first few hours at our moorings, “Are you in theFalkland Isles or in Norway?” I should have puzzled how to answerthe question. For here were coasts forming deep creeks, the steephills with peaked sides, and the coast-ledges faced with grey rock. Even the seaside climate, exempt from great extremes of cold andheat, is common to the two countries. Besides, the frequent rains ofScandinavia visit Magellan’s region in like abundance. Both havedense fogs, and, in spring and autumn, winds so fierce that the veryvegetables in the fields are frequently rooted up. 

A few walks inland would, however, have sufficed to make merecognize that I was still separated by the equator from the watersof Northern Europe. What had I found to observe in the neighbourhoodof Port Egmont after my explorations of the first few days? Nothingbut the signs of a sickly vegetation, nowhere arborescent. Here andthere a few shrubs grew, in place of the flourishing firs of theNorwegian mountains, and the surface of a spongy soil which sinksand rises under the foot is carpeted with mosses, fungi, andlichens. No! this was not the enticing country where the echoes ofthe sagas resound, this was not the poetic realm of Wodin and theValkyries. 

On the deep waters of the Falkland Strait, which separates the twoprincipal isles, great masses of extraordinary aquatic vegetationfloated, and the bays of the Archipelago, where whales were alreadybecoming scarce, were frequented by other marine mammals of enormoussize--seals, twenty-five feet long by twenty in circumference, andgreat numbers of sea elephants, wolves, and lions, of proportions noless gigantic. The uproar made by these animals, by the females andtheir young especially, surpasses description. One would think thatherds of cattle were bellowing on the beach. Neither difficulty nordanger attends the capture, or at least the slaughter of the marinebeasts. The sealers kill them with a blow of a club when they arelying in the sands on the strand. These are the special featuresthat differentiate Scandinavia from the Falklands, not to speak ofthe infinite number of birds which rose on my approach, grebe, cormorants, black-headed swans, and above all, tribes of penguins, of which hundreds of thousands are massacred every year. 

One day, when the air was filled with a sound of braying, sufficientto deafen one, I asked an old sailor belonging to Port Egmont, --

“Are there asses about here?”

“Sir, ” he replied, “those are not asses that you hear, butpenguins. ”

The asses themselves, had any been there, would have been deceivedby the braying of these stupid birds. I pursued my investigationssome way to the west of the bay. West Falkland is more extensivethan its neighbour, La Soledad, and possesses another fort at thesouthern point of Byron’s Sound--too far off for me to go there. 

I could not estimate the population of the Archipelago evenapproximately. Probably, it did not then exceed from two to threehundred souls, mostly English, with some Indians, Portuguese, Spaniards, Gauche from the Argentine Pampas, and natives from TierDel Fuel. On the other hand, the representatives of the ovine andbovine races were to be counted by tens of thousands. More than fivehundred thousand sheep yield over four hundred thousand dollars’worth of wool yearly. There are also horned cattle bred on theislands; these seem to have increased in size, while the otherquadrupeds, for instance, horses, pigs, and rabbits, have decreased. All these live in a wild state, and the only beast of prey is thedog-fox, a species peculiar to the fauna of the Falklands. 

Not without reason has this island been called “a cattle farm. ”What inexhaustible pastures, what an abundance of that savourygrass, the tussock, does nature lavish on animals there! Australia, though so rich in this respect, does not set a better spread tablebefore her ovine and bovine pensioners. 

The Falklands ought to be resorted to for the re-victualling ofships. The groups are of real importance to navigators making forthe Strait of Magellan, as well as to those who come to fish in thevicinity of the polar regions. 

When the work on the hull was done, West occupied himself with themasts and the rigging, with the assistance of Martin Holt, oursailing master, who was very clever at this kind of industry. 

On the 21st of October, Captain Len Guy said to me: “You shallsee, Mr. Jeorling, that nothing will be neglected to ensure thesuccess of our enterprise. Everything that can be foreseen has beenforeseen, and if the _Halbrane_ is to perish in some catastrophe, itwill be because it is not permitted to human beings to go againstthe designs of God. ”

“I have good hopes, captain, as I have already said. Your vesseland her crew are worthy of confidence. But, supposing the expeditionshould be much prolonged, perhaps the supply of provisions--”

“We shall carry sufficient for two years, and those shall be ofgood quality. Port Egmont has proved capable of supplying us witheverything we require. ”

”Another question, if you will allow me?”

“Put it, Mr. Jeorling, put it. ”

“Shall you not need a more numerous crew for the _Halbrane_?Though you have men enough for the working of the ship, suppose youfind you have to attack or to defend in the Antarctic waters? Let usnot forget that, according to Arthur Pym’s narrative, there werethousands of natives on Tsalal Island, and if your brother--if hiscompanions are prisoners--”

“I hope, Mr. Jeorling, our artillery will protect the _Halbrane_better than the _Jane_ was protected by her guns. To tell the truth, the crew we have would not be sufficient for an expedition of thiskind. I have been arranging for recruiting our forces. ”

“Will it be difficult?”

“Yes and no; for the Governor has promised to help me. ”

“I surmise, captain, that recruits will have to be attracted bylarger pay. ”

“Double pay, Mr. Jeorling, and the whole crew must have thesame. ”

“You know, captain, I am disposed, and, indeed, desirous tocontribute to the expenses of the expedition. Will you kindlyconsider me as your partner?”

“All that shall be arranged, Mr. Jeorling, and I am very gratefulto you. The main point is to complete our armament with the leastpossible delay. We must be ready to clear out in a week. ”

The news that the schooner was bound for the Antarctic seas hadproduced some sensation in the Falklands, at Port Egmont, and in theports of La Soledad. At that season a number of unoccupied sailorswere there, awaiting the passing of the whaling-ships to offer theirservices, for which they were very well paid in general. If it hadbeen only for a fishing campaign on the borders of the PolarCircle, between the Sandwich Islands and New Georgia, Captain LenGuy would have merely had to make a selection. But the projectedvoyage was a very different thing; and only the old sailors of the_Halbrane_ were entirely indifferent to the dangers of such anenterprise, and ready to follow their chief whithersoever it mightplease him to go. 

In reality it was necessary to treble the crew of the schooner. Counting the captain, the mate, the boatswain, the cook and myself, we were thirteen on board. Now, thirty-two or thirty-four men wouldnot be too many for us, and it must be remembered that there werethirty-eight on board the _Jane_. 

In this emergency the Governor exerted himself to the utmost, andthanks to the largely-extra pay that was offered, Captain Len Guyprocured his full tale of seamen. Nine recruits signed articles forthe duration of the campaign, which could not be fixed beforehand, but was not to extend beyond Tsalal Island. 

The crew, counting every man on board except myself, numberedthirty-one, and a thirty-second for whom I bespeak especialattention. On the eve of our departure, Captain Len Guy was accostedat the angle of the port by an individual whom he recognized as asailor by his clothes, his walk, and his speech. 

This individual said, in a rough and hardly intelligible voice, --

“Captain, I have to make a proposal to you. ”

“What is it?”

“Have you still a place?”

“For a sailor?”

“For a sailor. ”

“Yes and no. ”

“Is it yes?”

“It is yes, if the man suits me. ”

“Will you take me?”

“You are a seaman?”

“I have served the sea for twenty-five years?

“Where?”

“In the Southern Seas, ”

“Far?”

“Yes, far, far. ”

“Your age?”

“Forty-four years. ”

“And you are at Port Egmont?”

“I shall have been there three years, come Christmas. ”

“Did you expect to get on a passing whale-ship?”

“No. ”

“Then what were you doing here?”

“Nothing, and I did not think of going to sea again. ”

“Then why seek a berth?”

“Just an idea. The news of the expedition your schooner is goingon was spread. I desire, yes, I desire to take part in it--withyour leave, of course. ”

“You are known at Port Egmont?”

“Well known, and I have incurred no reproach since I came here. ”

“Very well, ” said the captain. “I will make inquiry respectingyou. ”

“Inquire, captain, and if you say yes, my bag shall he on boardthis evening. ”

“What is your name?”

“Hunt. ”

“And you are--?”

“An American. ”

This Hunt was a man of short stature, his weather beaten face wasbrick red, his skin of a yellowish-brown like an Indian’s, hisbody clumsy, his head very large, his legs were bowed, his wholeframe denoted exceptional strength, especially the arms, whichterminated in huge hands. His grizzled hair resembled a kind of fur. 

A particular and anything but prepossessing character was impartedto the physiognomy of this individual by the extraordinary keennessof his small eyes, his almost lipless mouth, which stretched fromear to ear, and his long teeth, which were dazzlingly white; theirenamel being intact, for he had never been attacked by scurvy, thecommon scourge of seamen in high latitudes. 

Hunt had been living in the Falklands for three years; he livedalone on a pension, no one knew from whence this was derived. He wassingularly uncommunicative, and passed his time in fishing, by whichhe might have lived, not only as a matter of sustenance, but as anarticle of commerce. 

The information gained by Captain Len Guy was necessarilyincomplete, as it was confined to Hunt’s conduct during hisresidence at Port Egmont. The man did not fight, he did not drink, and he had given many proofs of his Herculean strength. Concerninghis past nothing was known, but undoubtedly he had been a sailor. Hehad said more to Len Guy than he had ever said to anybody; but hekept silence respecting the family to which he belonged, and theplace of his birth. This was of no importance; that he should proveto be a good sailor was all we had to think about. Hunt obtained afavourable reply, and came on board that same evening. 

On the 27th, in the morning, in the presence of the authorities ofthe Archipelago, the _Halbrane’s_ anchor was lifted, the last goodwishes and the final adieus were exchanged, and the schooner tookthe sea. The same evening Capes Dolphin and Pembroke disappeared inthe mists of the horizon. 

Thus began the astonishing adventure undertaken by these brave men, who were driven by a sentiment of humanity towards the most terribleregions of the Antarctic realm. 

CHAPTER X. THE OUTSET OF THE ENTERPRISE. 

Here was I, then, launched into an adventure which seemed likely tosurpass all my former experiences. Who would have believed such athing of me. But I was under a spell which drew me towards theunknown, that unknown of the polar world whose secrets so manydaring pioneers had in vain essayed to penetrate. And this time, whocould tell but that the sphinx of the Antarctic regions would speakfor the first time to human ears!

The new crew had firstly to apply themselves to learning theirseveral duties, and the old--all fine fellows--aided them in thetask. Although Captain Len Guy had not had much choice, he seemed tohave been in luck. These sailors, of various nationalities, displayed zeal and good will. They were aware, also, that the matewas a man whom it would not do to vex, for Hurliguerly had giventhem to understand that West would break any man’s head who didnot go straight. His chief allowed him full latitude in this respect. 

“A latitude, ” he added, “which is obtained by taking thealtitude of the eye with a shut fist. ”

I recognized my friend the boatswain in the manner of this warningto all whom it might concern. 

The new hands took the admonition seriously, and there was nooccasion to punish any of them. As for Hunt, while he observed thedocility of a true sailor in all his duties, he always kept himselfapart, speaking to none, and even slept on the deck, in a corner, rather than occupy a bunk in the forecastle with the others. 

Captain Len Guy’s intention was to take the Sandwich Isles for hispoint of departure towards the south, after having made acquaintancewith New Georgia, distant eight hundred miles from the Falklands. Thus the schooner would be in longitude on the route of the _Jane_. 

On the 2nd of November this course brought us to the bearings whichcertain navigators have assigned to the Aurora Islands, 30° 15’of latitude and 47° 33’ of east longitude. 

Well, then, notwithstanding the affirmations--which I regarded withsuspicion--of the captains of the _Aurora_ in 1762, of the _SaintMigue_l, in 1769, of the _Pearl_, in 1779, of the _Prinicus_ and the_Dolores_, in 1790, of the _Atrevida_, in 1794, which gave the bearingsof the three islands of the group, we did not perceive a singleindication of land in the whole of the space traversed by us. It wasthe same with regard to the alleged islands of the conceited Glass. Not a single little islet was to be seen in the position he hadindicated, although the look-out was most carefully kept. It is tobe feared that his Excellency the Governor of Tristan d’Acunhawill never see his name figuring in geographical nomenclature. 

It was now the 6th of November. Our passage promised to be shorterthan that of the _Jane_. We had no need to hurry, however. Ourschooner would arrive before the gates of the iceberg wall wouldbe open. For three days the weather caused the working of the shipto be unusually laborious, and the new crew behaved very well;thereupon the boatswain congratulated them. Hurliguerly bore witnessthat Hunt, for all his awkward and clumsy build, was in himself worththree men. 

“A famous recruit, ” said he. 

“Yes, indeed, ” I replied, “and gained just at the lastmoment. ”

“Very true, Mr. Jeorling! But what a face and head he has, thatHunt!”

“I have often met Americans like him in the regions of the FarWest, ” I answered, “and I should not be surprised if this manhad Indian blood in his veins. Do you ever talk with Hunt?”

“Very seldom, Mr. Jeorling. He keeps himself to himself, and awayfrom everybody. And yet, it is not for want of mouth. I never sawanything like his! And his hands! Have you seen his hands? Be onyour guard, Mr. Jeorling, if ever he wants to shake hands withyou. ”

“Fortunately, boatswain, Hunt does not seem to be quarrelsome. Heappears to be a quiet man who does not abuse his strength. ”

“No--except when he is setting a halyard. Then I am always afraidthe pulley will come down and the yard with it. ”

Hunt certainly was a strange being, and I could not resist observinghim with curiosity, especially as it struck me that he regarded meat times with a curious intentness. 

On the 10th of November, at about two in the afternoon, the look-outshouted, --

“Land ahead, starboard!”

An observation had just given 55° 7’ latitude and 41° 13’longitude. This land could only be the Isle de Saint Pierre--itsBritish names are South Georgia, New Georgia, and King George’sIsland--and it belongs to the circumpolar regions. 

It was discovered by the Frenchman, Barbe, in 1675, before Cook;but, although he came in second, the celebrated navigator gave itthe series of names which it still bears. 

The schooner took the direction of this island, whose snow-cladheights--formidable masses of ancient rock-rise to an immensealtitude through the yellow fogs of the surrounding space. 

New Georgia, situated within five hundred leagues of MagellanStraits, belongs to the administrative domain of the Falklands. TheBritish administration is not represented there by anyone, theisland is not inhabited, although it is habitable, at least in thesummer season. 

On the following day, while the men were gone in search of water, Iwalked about in the vicinity of the bay. The place was an utterdesert, for the period at which sealing is pursued there had notarrived. New Georgia, being exposed to the direct action of theAntarctic polar current, is freely frequented by marine mammals. Isaw several droves of these creatures on the rocks, the strand, andwithin the rock grottoes of the coast. Whole “smalas” ofpenguins, standing motionless in interminable rows, brayed theirprotest against the invasion of an intruder--I allude to myself. 

Innumerable larks flew over the surface of the waters and the sands;their song awoke my memory of lands more favoured by nature. It isfortunate that these birds do not want branches to perch on; forthere does not exist a tree in New Georgia. Here and there I found afew phanerogams, some pale-coloured mosses, and especially tussockgrass in such abundance that numerous herds of cattle might be fedupon the island. 

On the 12th November the _Halbrane_ sailed once more, and havingdoubled Charlotte Point at the extremity of Royal Bay, she headed inthe direction of the Sandwich Islands, four hundred miles fromthence. 

So far we had not encountered floating ice. The reason was that thesummer sun had not detached any, either from the icebergs or thesouthern lands. Later on, the current would draw them to the heightof the fiftieth parallel, which, in the southern hemisphere, is thatof Paris or Quebec. But we were much impeded by huge banks of fogwhich frequently shut out the horizon. Nevertheless, as these waterspresented no danger, and there was nothing to fear from ice packs ordrifting icebergs, the _Halbrane_ was able to pursue her route towardsthe Sandwich Islands comfortably enough. Great flocks of clangorousbirds, breasting the wind and hardly moving their wings, passed usin the midst of the fogs, petrels, divers, halcyons, and albatross, bound landwards, as though to show us the way. 

Owing, no doubt, to these mists, we were unable to discern TraverseyIsland. Captain Len Guy, however, thought some vague streaks ofintermittent light which were perceived in the night, between the14th and 15th, probably proceeded from a volcano which might be thatof Traversey, as the crater frequently emits flames. 

On the 17th November the schooner reached the Archipelago to whichCook gave the name of Southern Thule in the first instance, as itwas the most southern land that had been discovered at that period. He afterwards baptized it Sandwich Isles. 

James West repaired to Thule in the large boat, in order to explorethe approachable points, while Captain Len Guy and I descended onthe Bristol strand. 

We found absolutely desolate country; the only inhabitants weremelancholy birds of Antarctic species. Mosses and lichens cover thenakedness of an unproductive soil. Behind the beach a few firs riseto a considerable height on the bare hill-sides, from whence greatmasses occasionally come crashing down with a thundering sound. Awful solitude reigns everywhere. There was nothing to attest thepassage of any human being, or the presence of any shipwreckedpersons on Bristol Island. 

West’s exploration at Thule produced a precisely similar result. Afew shots fired from our schooner had no effect but to drive awaythe crowd of petrels and divers, and to startle the rows of stupidpenguins on the beach. 

While Captain Len Guy and I were walking, I said to him, --

“You know, of course, what Cook’s opinion on the subject of theSandwich group was when he discovered it. At first he believed hehad set foot upon a continent. According to him, the mountains ofice carried out of the Antarctic Sea by the drift were detached fromthat continent. He recognized afterwards that the Sandwiches onlyformed an Archipelago, but, nevertheless, his belief that a polarcontinent farther south exists, remained firm and unchanged. ”

“I know that is so, Mr. Jeorling, ” replied the captain, “butif such a continent exists, we must conclude that there is a greatgap in its coast, and that Weddell and my brother each got in bythat gap at six years’ interval. That our great navigator had notthe luck to discover this passage is easy to explain; he stopped atthe seventy-first parallel! But others found it after Captain Cook, and others will find it again. ”

“And we shall be of the number, captain. ”

“Yes--with the help of God! Cook did not hesitate to assert thatno one would ever venture farther than he had gone, and that theAntarctic lands, if any such existed, would never be seen, but thefuture will prove that he was mistaken. They have been seen so faras the eighty-fourth degree of latitude--”

“And who knows, ” said I, “perhaps beyond that, by ArthurPym. ”

“Perhaps, Mr. Jeorling. It is true that we have not to troubleourselves about Arthur Pym, since he, at least, and Dirk Petersalso, returned to America. ”

“But--supposing he did not return?”

“I consider that we have not to face that eventuality, ” repliedCaptain Len Guy. 

CHAPTER XI. FROM THE SANDWICH ISLANDS TO THE POLAR CIRCLE. 

The _Halbrane_, singularly favoured by the weather, sighted the NewSouth Orkneys group in six days after she had sailed from theSandwich Islands. This archipelago was discovered by Palmer, anAmerican, and Bothwell, an Englishman, jointly, in 1821-22. Crossedby the sixty-first parallel, it is comprehended between theforty-fourth and the forty, seventh meridian. 

On approaching, we were enabled to observe contorted masses andsteep cliffs on the north side, which became less rugged as theyneared the coast, at whose edge lay enormous ice-floes, heapedtogether in formidable confusion; these, before two months shouldhave expired, would be drifted towards the temperate waters. At thatseason the whaling ships would appear to carry on the taking of thegreat blowing creatures, while some of their crews would remain onthe islands to capture seals and sea-elephants. 

In order to avoid the strait, which was encumbered with islets andice-floes, Captain Len Guy first cast anchor at the south-easternextremity of Laurie Island, where he passed the day on the 24th;then, having rounded Cape Dundas, he sailed along the southern coastof Coronation Island, where the schooner anchored on the 25th. Ourclose and careful researches produced no result as regarded thesailors of the _Jane_. 

The islands and islets were peopled by multitudes of birds. Withouttaking the penguins into account, those guano-covered rocks werecrowded with white pigeons, a species of which I had already seensome specimens. These birds have rather short, conical beaks, andred-rimmed eyelids; they can be knocked over with little difficulty. As for the vegetable kingdom in the New South Orkneys, it isrepresented only by grey lichen and some scanty seaweeds. Musselsare found in great abundance all along the rocks; of these weprocured an ample supply. 

The boatswain and his men did not lose the opportunity of killingseveral dozens of penguins with their sticks, not from a ruthlessinstinct of destruction, but from the legitimate desire to procurefresh food. 

“Their flesh is just as good as chicken, Mr. Jeorling, ” saidHurliguerly. “Did you not eat penguin at the Kerguelens?”

“Yes, boatswain, but it was cooked by Arkins. ”

“Very well, then; it will be cooked by Endicott here, and you willnot know the difference. ”

And in fact we in the saloon, like the men in the forecastle, wereregaled with penguin, and acknowledged the merits of our excellentsea-cook. 

The _Halbrane_ sailed on the 26th of November, at six o’clock in themorning, heading south. She reascended the forty-third meridian;this we were able to ascertain very exactly by a good observation. This route it was that Weddell and then William Guy had followed, and, provided the schooner did not deflect either to the east or thewest, she must inevitably come to Tsalal Island. The difficulties ofnavigation had to be taken into account, of course. 

The wind, continuing to blow steadily from the west, was in ourfavour, and if the present speed of the _Halbrane_ could bemaintained, as I ventured to suggest to Captain Len Guy, the voyagefrom the South Orkneys to the Polar Circle would be a short one. Beyond, as I knew, we should have to force the gate of the thickbarrier of icebergs, or to discover a breach in that ice-fortress. 

“So that, in less than a month, captain--” I suggested, tentatively. 

“In less than a month I hope to have found the iceless sea whichWeddell and Arthur Pym describe so fully, beyond the ice-wall, andthenceforth we need only sail on under ordinary conditions to BennetIsland in the first place, and afterwards to Tsalal Island. Once onthat ‘wide open sea, ’ what obstacle could arrest or even retardour progress?”

“I can foresee none, captain, so soon as we shall get to the backof the ice-wall. The passage through is the difficult point; it mustbe our chief source of anxietys and if only the wind holds--”

“It will hold, Mr. Jeorling. All the navigators of the australseas have been able to ascertain, as I myself have done, thepermanence of this wind. ”

“That is true, and I rejoice in the assurance, captain. Besides, Iacknowledge, without shrinking from the admission, that I ambeginning to be superstitious. ”

“And why not, Mr. Jeorling? What is there unreasonable inadmitting the intervention of a supernatural power in the mostordinary circumstances of life? And we, who sail the _Halbrane_, should we venture to doubt it? Recall to your mind our meeting withthe unfortunate Patterson on our ship’s course, the fragment ofice carried into the waters where we were, and dissolved immediatelyafterwards. Were not these facts providential? Nay, I go fartherstill, and am sure that, after having done so much to guide ustowards our compatriots, God will not abandon us--”

“I think as you think, captain. No, His intervention is not to bedenied, and I do not believe that chance plays the part assigned toit by superficial minds upon the stage of human life. All the factsare united by a mysterious chain. ”

“A chain, Mr. Jeorling, whose first link, so far as we areconcerned, is Patterson’s ice-block, and whose last will be TsalalIsland. Ah! My brother! my poor brother! Left there for elevenyears, with his companions in misery, without being able toentertain the hope that succour ever could reach them! And Pattersoncarried far away from them, under we know not what conditions, theynot knowing what had become of him! If my heart is sick when I thinkof these catastrophes, Mr. Jeorling, at least it will not fail meunless it be at the moment when my brother throws himself into myarms. ”

So then we two were agreed in our trust in Providence. It had beenmade plain to us in a manifest fashion that God had entrusted uswith a mission, and we would do all that might be humanly possibleto accomplish it. 

The schooner’s crew, I ought to mention, were animated by the likesentiments, and shared the same hopes. I allude to the originalseamen who were so devoted to their captain. As for the new ones, they were probably indifferent to the result of the enterprise, provided it should secure the profits promised to them by theirengagement. 

At least, I was assured by the boatswain that such was the case, butwith the exception of Hunt. This man had apparently not been inducedto take service by the bribe of high wages or prize money. He wasabsolutely silent on that and every other subject. 

“If he does not speak to you, boatswain, ” I said, “neitherdoes he speak to me. ”

“Do you know, Mr. Jeorling, what it is my notion that man hasalready done?”

“Tell me, Hurliguerly. ”

“Well, then, I believe he has gone far, far into the southernseas, let him be as dumb as a fish about it. Why he is dumb is hisown affair. But if that sea-hog of a man has not been inside theAntarctic Circle and even the ice wall by a good dozen degrees, maythe first sea we ship carry me overboard. ”

“From what do you judge, boatswain?”

“From his eyes, Mr. Jeorling, from his eyes. No matter at whatmoment, let the ship’s head be as it may, those eyes of his arealways on the south, open, unwinking, fixed like guns in position. ”

Hurliguerly did not exaggerate, and I had already remarked this. Toemploy an expression of Edgar Poe’s, Hunt had eyes like afalcon’s. 

“When he is not on the watch, ” resumed the boatswain, “thatsavage leans all the time with his elbows on the side, as motionlessas he is mute. His right place would be at the end of our bow, wherehe would do for a figurehead to the _Halbrane_, and a very ugly one atthat! And then, when he is at the helm, Mr. Jeorling, just observehim! His enormous hands clutch the handles as though they werefastened to the wheel; he gazes at the binnacle as though the magnetof the compass were drawing his eyes. I pride myself on being a goodsteersman, but as for being the equal of Hunt, I’m not! With him, not for an instant does the needle vary from the sailing-line, however rough a lurch she may give. I am sure that if the binnaclelamp were to go out in the night Hunt would not require to relightit. The fire in his eyes would light up the dial and keep himright. ”

For several days our navigation went on in unbroken monotony, without a single incident, and under favourable conditions. Thespring season was advancing, and whales began to make theirappearance in large numbers. 

In these waters a week would suffice for ships of heavy tonnage tofill their casks with the precious oil. Thus the new men of thecrew, and especially the Americans, did not conceal their regret forthe captain’s indifference in the presence of so many animalsworth their weight in gold, and more abundant than they had everseen whales at that period of the year. The leading malcontent wasHearne, a sealing-master, to whom his companions were ready tolisten. He had found it easy to get the upper hand of the othersailors by his rough manner and the surly audacity that wasexpressed by his whole personality. Hearne was an American, andforty-five years of age. He was an active, vigorous man, and I couldsee him in my mind’s eye, standing up on his double bowedwhaling-boat brandishing the harpoon, darting it into the flank of awhale, and paying out the rope. He must have been fine to see. Granted his passion for this business, I could not be surprised thathis discontent showed itself upon occasion. In any case, however, our schooner was not fitted out for fishing, and the implements ofwhaling were not on board. 

One day, about three o’clock in the afternoon, I had gone forwardto watch the gambols of a “school” of the huge sea mammals. Hearne was pointing them out to his companions, and muttering indisjointed phrases, --

“There, look there! That’s a fin-back! There’s another, andanother; three of them with their dorsal fins five or six feet high. Just see them swimming between two waves, quietly, making no jumps. Ah! if I had a harpoon, I bet my head that I could send it into oneof the four yellow spots they have on their bodies. But there’snothing to be done in this traffic-box; one cannot stretch one’sarms. Devil take it! In these seas it is fishing we ought to be at, not--”

Then, stopping short, he swore a few oaths, and cried out, “Andthat other whale!”

“The one with a hump like a dromedary?” asked a sailor. 

“Yes. It is a humpback, ” replied Hearne. “Do you make out itswrinkled belly, and also its long dorsal fin? They’re not easy totake, those humpbacks, for they go down into great depths and devourlong reaches of your lines. Truly, we deserve that he should give usa switch of his tail on our side, since we don’t send a harpooninto his. ”

“Look out! Look out!” shouted the boatswain. This was not towarn us that we were in danger of receiving the formidable stroke ofthe humpback’s tail which the sealing-master had wished us. No, anenormous blower had come alongside the schooner, and almost on theinstant a spout of ill-smelling water was ejected from its blow-holewith a noise like a distant roar of artillery. The whole foredeck tothe main hatch was inundated. 

“That’s well done!” growled Hearne, shrugging his shoulders, while his companions shook themselves and cursed the humpback. 

Besides these two kinds of cetacea we had observed severalright-whales, and these are the most usually met with in thesouthern seas. They have no fins, and their blubber is very thick. The taking of these fat monsters of the deep is not attended withmuch danger. The right-whales are vigorously pursued in the southernseas, where the little shell fish called “whales’ food”abound. The whales subsist entirely upon these small crustaceans. 

Presently, one of these right-whales, measuring sixty feet inlength--that is to say, the animal was the equivalent of a hundredbarrels of oil--was seen floating within three cables’ lengths ofthe schooner. 

“Yes! that’s a right-whale, ” exclaimed Hearne. “You mighttell it by its thick, short spout. See, that one on the port side, like a column of smoke, that’s the spout of a right-whale! And allthis is passing before our very noses---a dead loss! Why, it’slike emptying money-bags into the sea not to fill one’s barrelswhen one can. A nice sort of captain, indeed, to let all thismerchandise be lost, and do such wrong to his crew!”

“Hearne, ” said an imperious voice, “go up to the maintop. Youwill be more at your ease there to reckon the whales. ”

“But, sir--”

“No reply, or I’ll keep you up there until to-morrow. Come--beoff at once. ”

And as he would have got the worst of an attempt at resistance, thesealing-master obeyed in silence. 

The season must have been abnormally advanced, for although wecontinued to see a vast number of testaceans, we did not catch sightof a single whaling-ship in all this fishing-ground. I hasten to state that, although we were not to be tempted bywhales, no other fishing was forbidden on board the _Halbrane_, andour daily bill of fare profited by the boatswain’s trawling lines, to the extreme satisfaction of stomachs weary of salt meat. Ourlines brought us goby, salmon, cod, mackerel, conger, mullet, andparrot-fish. 

The birds which we saw, and which came from every point of thehorizon, were those I have already mentioned, petrels, divers, halcyons, and pigeons in countless flocks. I also saw--but beyondaim--a giant petrel; its dimensions were truly astonishing. Thiswas one of those called “quebrantahnesos” by the Spaniards. Thisbird of the Magellanian waters is very remarkable; its curved andslender wings have a span of from thirteen to fourteen feet, equalto that of the wings of the great albatross. Nor is the latterwanting among these powerful winged creatures; we saw thedusky-plumed albatross of the cold latitudes, sweeping towards theglacial zone. 

On the 30th of November, after observation taken at noon, it wasfound that we had reached 66° 23’ 3” of latitude. 

The _Halbrane_ had then crossed the Polar Circle which circumscribesthe area of the Antarctic zone. 

CHAPTER XII. BETWEEN THE POLAR CIRCLE AND THE ICE WALL. 

Since the _Halbrane_ has passed beyond the imaginary curve drawn attwenty-three and a half degrees from the Pole, it seems as thoughshe had entered a new region, “that region of Desolation andSilence, ” as Edgar Poe says; that magic person of splendour andglory in which the _Eleanora’s_ singer longed to be shut up to alleternity; that immense ocean of light ineffable. 

It is my belief--to return to less fanciful hypotheses--that theAntarctic region, with a superficies of more than five millions ofsquare miles, has remained what our spheroid was during the glacialperiod. In the summer, the southern zone, as we all know, enjoysperpetual day, owing to the rays projected by the orb of light aboveits horizon in his spiral ascent. Then, so soon as he hasdisappeared, the long night sets in, a night which is frequentlyillumined by the polar aurora or Northern Lights. 

It was then in the season of light that our schooner was about tosail in these formidable regions. The permanent brightness would notfail us before we should have reached Tsalal Island, where we feltno doubt of finding the men of the _Jane_. 

When Captain Len Guy, West, and the old sailors of the crew learnedthat the schooner had cleared the sixty-sixth parallel of latitude, their rough and sunburnt faces shone with satisfaction. The nextday, Hurliguerly accosted me on the deck with a broad smile and acheerful manner. 

“So then, Mr. Jeorling, ” said he, “we’ve left the famous‘Circle’ behind us!”

“Not far enough, boatswain, not far enough!”

“Oh, that will come! But I am disappointed. ”

“In what way?”

“Because we have not done what is usual on board shipson crossing the Line!”

“You regret that?”

“Certainly I do, and the _Halbrane_ might have been allowed theceremony of a southern baptism. ”

“A baptism? And whom would you have baptized, boatswain, seeingthat all our men, like yourself, have already sailed beyond thisparallel?”

“We! Oh, yes! But you! Oh, no, Mr. Jeorling. And why, may I ask, should not that ceremony be performed in your honour?”

“True, boatswain; this is the first time in the course of mytravels that I have been in so high a latitude. ”

“And you should have been rewarded by a baptism, Mr. Jeorling. Yes, indeed, but without any big fuss--no drum and trumpet aboutit, and leaving out old Father Neptune with his masquerade. If youwould permit me to baptize you--”

“So be it, Hurliguerly, ” said I, putting my hand into my pocket. “Baptize as you please. Here is something to drink my health with atthe nearest tavern. ”

“Then that will be Bennet Islet or Tsalal Island, provided thereare any taverns in those savage islands, and any Atkinses to keepthem. ”

“Tell me, boatswain--I always get back to Hunt--does he seem somuch pleased to have passed the Polar Circle as the _Halbrane’s_ oldsailors are?”

“Who knows? There’s nothing to be got out of him one way oranother. But, as I have said before, if he has not already madeacquaintance with the ice-barrier. ”

“What makes you think so?”

“Everything and nothing, Mr. Jeorling. One feels these things; onedoesn’t think them. Hunt is an old sea-dog, who has carried hiscanvas bag into every corner of the world. ”

The boatswain’s opinion was mine also, and some inexplicablepresentiment made me observe Hunt constantly, for he occupied alarge share of my thoughts. 

Early in December the wind showed a north-west tendency, and thatwas not good for us, but we would have no serious right to complainso long as it did not blow due south-west. In the latter case theschooner would have been thrown out of her course, or at least shewould have had a struggle to keep in it, and it was better for us, in short, not to stray from the meridian which we had followed sinceour departure from the New South Orkneys. Captain Len Guy was madeanxious by this alteration in the wind, and besides, the speed ofthe _Halbrane_ was manifestly lessened, for the breeze began to softenon the 4th, and in the middle of the night it died away. 

In the morning the sails hung motionless and shrivelled along themasts. Although not a breath reached us, and the surface of theocean was unruffled, the schooner was rocked from side to side bythe long oscillations of the swell coming from the west. 

“The sea feels something, ” said Captain Len Guy to me, “andthere must be rough weather on that side, ” he added, pointingwestward. 

“The horizon is misty, ” I replied; “but perhaps the suntowards noon--”

“The sun has no strength in this latitude, Mr. Jeorling, not evenin summer. Jem!”

West came up to us. 

“What do you think of the sky?”

“I do not think well of it. We must be ready for anything andeverything, captain. ”

“Has not the look-out given warning of the first drifting ice?”I asked. 

“Yes, ” replied Captain Len Guy, “and if we get near theicebergs the damage will not be to them. Therefore, if prudencedemands that we should go either to the east or to the west, weshall resign ourselves, but only in case of absolute necessity. ”

The watch had made no mistake. In the afternoon we sighted masses, islets they might be called, of ice, drifting slowly southward, butthese were not yet of considerable extent or altitude. These packswere easy to avoid; they could not interfere with the sailing of the_Halbrane_. But, although the wind had hitherto permitted her to keepon her course, she was not advancing, and it was exceedinglydisagreeable to be rolling about in a rough and hollow sea whichstruck our ship’s sides most unpleasantly. 

About two o’clock it was blowing a hurricane from all the pointsof the compass. The schooner was terribly knocked about, and theboatswain had the deck cleared of everything that was movable by herrolling and pitching. 

Fortunately, the cargo could not be displaced, the stowage havingbeen effected with perfect forecast of nautical eventualities. Wehad not to dread the fate of the _Grampus_, which was lost owing tonegligence in her lading. It will be remembered that the brig turnedbottom upwards, and that Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters remained forseveral days crouching on its keel. 

Besides, the schooner’s pumps did not give a drop of water; theship was perfectly sound in every part, owing to the efficientrepairs that had been done during our stay at the Falklands. Thetemperature had fallen rapidly, and hail, rain, and snow thickenedand darkened the air. At ten o’clock in the evening--I must usethis word, although the sun remained always above the horizon--thetempest increased, and the captain and his lieutenant, almost unableto hear each other’s voices amid the elemental strife, communicated mostly by gestures, which is as good a mode as speechbetween sailors. 

I could not make up my mind to retire to my cabin, and, seeking theshelter of the roundhouse, I remained on deck, observing the weatherphenomena, and the skill, certainty, celerity, and effect with whichthe crew carried out the orders of the captain and West. It was astrange and terrible experience for a landsman, even one who hadseen so much of the sea and seamanship as I had. At the moment of acertain difficult manoeuvre, four men had to climb to the crossbarsof the fore-mast in order to reef the mainsail. The first who sprangto the ratlines was Hunt. The second was Martin Holt; Burry and oneof the recruits followed them. I could not have believed that anyman could display such skill and agility as Hunt’s. His hands andfeet hardly caught the ratlines. Having reached the crossbars first, he stretched himself on the ropes to the end of the yard, while Holtwent to the other end, and the two recruits remained in the middle. 

While the men were working, and the tempest was raging round us, aterrific lurch of the ship to starboard under the stroke of amountainous wave, flung everything on the deck into wild confusion, and the sea rushed in through the scupper-holes. I was knocked down, and for some moments was unable to rise. 

So great had been the incline of the schooner that the end of theyard of the mainsail was plunged three or four feet into the crestof a wave. When it emerged Martin Holt, who had been astride on it, had disappeared. A cry was heard, uttered by the sailing-master, whose arm could be seen wildly waving amid the whiteness of thefoam. The sailors rushed to the side and flung out one a rope, another a cask, a third a spar--in short, any object of whichMartin Holt might lay hold. At the moment when I struggled up to myfeet I caught sight of a massive substance which cleft the air andvanished in the whirl of the waves. 

Was this a second accident? No! it was a voluntary action, a deed ofself-sacrifice. Having finished his task, Hunt had thrown himselfinto the sea, that he might save Martin Holt. 

“Two men overboard!”

Yes, two--one to save the other. And were they not about to perishtogether?

The two heads rose to the foaming surface of the water. 

Hunt was swimming vigorously, cutting through the waves, and wasnearing Martin Holt. 

“They are lost! both lost!” exclaimed the captain. “The boat, West, the boat!”

“If you give the order to lower it, ” answered West, “I will bethe first to get into it, although at the risk of my life. But Imust have the order. ”

In unspeakable suspense the ship’s crew and myself had witnessedthis scene. None thought of the position of the _Halbrane_, which wassufficiently dangerous; all eyes were fixed upon the terrible waves. Now fresh cries, the frantic cheers of the crew, rose above the roarof the elements. Hunt had reached the drowning man just as he sankout of sight, had seized hold of him, and was supporting him withhis left arm, while Holt, incapable of movement, swayed helplesslyabout like a weed. With the other arm Hunt was swimming bravely andmaking way towards the schooner. 

A minute, which seemed endless, passed. The two men, the onedragging the other, were hardly to be distinguished in the midst ofthe surging waves. 

At last Hunt reached the schooner, and caught one of the lineshanging over the side. 

In a minute Hunt and Martin Holt were hoisted on board; the latterwas laid down at the foot of the foremast, and the former was quiteready to go to his work. Holt was speedily restored by the aid ofvigorous rubbing; his senses came back, and he opened his eyes. 

“Martin Holt, ” said Captain Len Guy, who was leaning over him, “you have been brought back from very far--”

“Yes, yes, captain, ” answered Holt, as he looked about him witha searching gaze, “but who saved me?”

“Hunt, ” cried the boatswain, “Hunt risked his life for you. ”

As the latter was hanging back, Hurliguerly pushed him towardsMartin Holt, whose eyes expressed the liveliest gratitude. 

“Hunt, ” said he, “you have saved me. But for you I should havebeen lost. I thank you. ”

Hunt made no reply. 

“Hunt, ” resumed Captain Len Guy, “don’t you hear?”

The man seemed not to have heard. 

“Hunt, ” said Martin Holt again, “come near to me. I thank you. I want to shake hands with you. ”

And he held out his right hand. Hunt stepped back a few paces, shaking his head with the air of a man who did not want so manycompliments for a thing so simple, and quietly walked forward tojoin his shipmates, who were working vigorously under the orders ofWest. 

Decidedly, this man was a hero in courage and self-devotion; butequally decidedly he was a being impervious to impressions, and noton that day either was the boatswain destined to know “the colourof his words!”

For three whole days, the 6th, 7th, and 8th of December, the tempestraged in these waters, accompanied by snow storms which perceptiblylowered the temperature. It is needless to say that Captain Len Guyproved himself a true seaman, that James West had an eye toeverything, that the crew seconded them loyally, and that Hunt wasalways foremost when there was work to be done or danger to beincurred. 

In truth, I do not know how to give an idea of this man! What adifference there was between him and most of the sailors recruitedat the Falklands, and especially between him and Hearne, thesealing-master! They obeyed, no doubt, for such a master as JamesWest gets himself obeyed, whether with good or ill will. But behindbacks what complaints were made, what recriminations were exchangedI All this, I feared, was of evil presage for the future. 

Martin Holt had been able to resume his duties very soon, and hefulfilled them with hearty good-will. He knew the business of asailor right well, and was the only man on board who could competewith Hunt in handiness and zeal. 

“Well, Holt, ” said I to him one day when he was talking with theboatswain, “what terms are you on with that queer fellow Hunt now?Since the salvage affair, is he a little more communicative?”

“No, Mr. Jeorling, and I think he even tries to avoid me. ”

“To avoid you?”

“Well, he did so before, for that matter. ”

“Yes, indeed, that is true, ” added Hurliguerly; “I have madethe same remark more than once. ”

“Then he keeps aloof from you, Holt, as from the others?”

“From me more than from the others. ”

“What is the meaning of that?”“I don’t know, Mr. Jeorling. ”

I was surprised at what the two men had said, but a littleobservation convinced me that Hunt actually did avoid every occasionof coming in contact with Martin Holt. Did he not think that he hada right to Holt’s gratitude although the latter owed his life tohim? This man’s conduct was certainly very strange. 

In the early morning of the 9th the wind showed a tendency to changein the direction of the east, which would mean more manageableweather for us. And, in fact, although the sea still remained rough, at about two in the morning it became feasible to put on more sailwithout risk, and thus the _Halbrane_ regained the course from whichshe had been driven by the prolonged tempest. 

In that portion of the Antarctic sea the ice-packs were morenumerous, and there was reason to believe that the tempest, byhastening the smash-up, had broken the barrier of the iceberg walltowards the east. 

CHAPTER XIII. ALONG THE FRONT OF THE ICEBERGS. 

Although the seas beyond the Polar Circle were wildly tumultuous, itis but just to acknowledge that our navigation had been accomplishedso far under exceptional conditions. And what good luck it would beif the _Halbrane_, in this first fortnight of December, were to findthe Weddell route open!

There! I am talking of the Weddell route as though it were amacadamized road, well kept, with mile-stones and “This way to theSouth Pole” on a signpost!

The numerous wandering masses of ice gave our men no trouble; theywere easily avoided. It seemed likely that no real difficultieswould arise until the schooner should have to try to make a passagefor herself through the icebergs. 

Besides, there was no surprise to be feared. The presence of ice wasindicated by a yellowish tint in the atmosphere, which the whalerscalled “blink. ” This is a phenomenon peculiar to the glacialzones which never deceives the observer. 

For five successive days the _Halbrane_ sailed without sustaining anydamage, without having, even for a moment, had to fear a collision. It is true that in proportion as she advanced towards the south thenumber of icepacks increased and the channels became narrower. Onthe 14th an observation gave us 72° 37’ for latitude, ourlongitude remaining the same, between the forty-second and theforty-third meridian. This was already a point beyond the AntarcticCircle that few navigators had been able to reach. We were at onlytwo degrees lower than Weddell. 

The navigation of the schooner naturally became a more delicatematter in the midst of those dim, wan masses soiled with the excretaof birds. Many of them had a leprous look: compared with theiralready considerable volume, how small our little ship, over whosemast some of the icebergs already towered, must have appeared!

Captain Len Guy admirably combined boldness and prudence in hiscommand of his ship. He never passed to leeward of an iceberg, ifthe distance did not guarantee the success of any manoeuvrewhatsoever that might suddenly become necessary. He was familiarwith all the contingencies of ice-navigation, and was not afraid toventure into the midst of these flotillas of drifts and packs. Thatday he said to me, --

“Mr. Jeorling; this is not the first time that I have tried topenetrate into the Polar Sea, and without success. Well, if I madethe attempt to do this when I had nothing but presumption as to thefate of the _Jane_ to go upon, what shall I not do now thatpresumption is changed into certainty?”

“I understand that, captain, and of course your experience ofnavigation in these waters must increase our chances of success. ”

“Undoubtedly. Nevertheless, all that lies beyond the fixedicebergs is still the unknown for me, as it is for othernavigators. ”

“The Unknown! No, not absolutely, captain, since we possess theimportant reports of Weddell, and, I must add, of Arthur Pym also. ”

“Yes, I know; they have spoken of the open sea. ”

“Do you not believe that such a sea exists?”

“Yes, I do believe that it exists, and for valid reasons. In fact, it is perfectly manifest that these masses, called icebergs andicefields, could not be formed in the ocean itself. It is thetremendous and irresistible action of the surge which detaches themfrom the continents or islands of the high latitudes. Then thecurrents carry them into less cold waters, where their edges areworn by the waves, while the temperature disintegrates their basesand their sides, which are subjected to thermometric influences. ”

“That seems very plain, ” I replied. “Then these masses havecome from the icebergs. (1) They clash with them in drifting, sometimes break into the main body, and clear their passage through. Again, we must not judge the southern by the northern zone. Theconditions are not identical. Cook has recorded that he never metthe equivalent of the Antarctic ice mountains in the Greenland seas, even at a higher latitude. ”

“What is the reason?” I asked. 

“No doubt that the influence of the south winds is predominant inthe northern regions. Now, those winds do not reach the northernregions until they have been heated in their passage over America, Asia, and Europe, and they contribute to raise the temperature ofthe atmosphere. The nearest land, ending in the points of the Capeof Good Hope, Patagonia, and Tasmania, does not modify theatmospheric currents. ”

“That is an important observation, captain, and it justifies youropinion with regard to an open sea. ”

“Yes, open--at least, for ten degrees behind the icebergs. Let usthen only get through that obstacle, and our greatest difficultywill have been conquered. You were right in saying that theexistence of that open sea has been formally recognized byWeddell. ”

“And by Arthur Pym, captain. ”

“And by Arthur Pym. ”

From the 15th of December the difficulties of navigation increasedwith the number of the drifting masses. The wind, however, continuedto be uniformly favourable, showing no tendency to veer to thesouth. The breeze freshened now and then, and we had to take insail. When this occurred we saw the sea foaming along the sides ofthe ice packs, covering them with spray like the rocks on the coastof a floating island, but without hindering their onward march. Our crew could not fail to be impressed by the sight of theschooner making her way through these moving masses; the new menamong them, at least, for the old hands had seen such manoeuvresbefore. But they soon became accustomed to it, and took it all forgranted. 

It was necessary to organize the look-out ahead with the greatestcare. West had a cask fixed at the head of the foremast--what iscalled a crow’s-nest--and from thence an unremitting watch waskept. 

The 16th was a day of excessive fatigue to the men. The packs anddrifts were so close that only very narrow and winding passage-waybetween them was to be found, so that the working of the ship wasmore than commonly laborious. 

Under these circumstances, none of the men grumbled, but Huntdistinguished himself by his activity. Indeed, he was admitted byCaptain Len Guy and the crew to be an incomparable seaman. But therewas something mysterious about him that excited the curiosity ofthem all. 

At this date the _Halbrane_ could not be very far from the icebergs. If she held on in her course in that direction she would certainlyreach them before long, and would then have only to seek for apassage. Hitherto, however, the look-out had not been able to makeout between the icebergs an unbroken crest of ice beyond theice-fields. 

Constant and minute precautions were indispensable all day on the16th, for the helm, which was loosened by merciless blows and bumps, was in danger of being unshipped. 

The sea mammals had not forsaken these seas. Whales were seen ingreat numbers, and it was a fairy-like spectacle when several ofthem spouted simultaneously. With fin-backs and hump-backs, porpoises of colossal size appeared, and these Hearne harpoonedcleverly when they came within range. The flesh of these creatureswas much relished on board, after Endicott had cooked it in his bestmanner. 

As for the usual Antarctic birds, petrels, pigeons, and cormorants, they passed in screaming flocks, and legions of penguins, rangedalong the edges of the icefields, watched the evolutions of theschooner. These penguins are the real inhabitants of these dismalsolitudes, and nature could not have created a type more suited tothe desolation of the glacial zone. 

On the morning of the 17th the man in the crow’s-nest at lastsignalled the icebergs. 

Five or six miles to the south a long dentated crest upreareditself, plainly standing out against the fairly clear sky, and allalong it drifted thousands of ice-packs. This motionless barrierstretched before us from the north-west to the south-east, and bymerely sailing along it the schooner would still gain some degreessouthwards. 

When the _Halbrane_ was within three miles of the icebergs, she lay-toin the middle of a wide basin which allowed her complete freedom ofmovement. 

A boat was lowered, and Captain Len Guy got into it, with theboatswain, four sailors at the oars, and one at the helm. The boatwas pulled in the direction of the enormous rampart, vain search wasmade for a channel through which the schooner could have slipped, and after three hours of this fatiguing reconnoitring, the menreturned to the ship. Then came a squall of rain and snow whichcaused the temperature to fall to thirty-six degrees (2’22 C. Above zero), and shut out the view of the ice-rampart from us. 

During the next twenty-four hours the schooner lay within four milesof the icebergs. To bring her nearer would have been to get amongwinding channels from which it might not have been possible toextricate her. Not that Captain Len Guy did not long to do this, inhis fear of passing some opening unperceived. 

“If I had a consort, ” he said, “I would sail closer along theicebergs, and it is a great advantage to be two, when one is on suchan enterprise as this! But the _Halbrane_ is alone, and if she were tofail us--”

Even though we approached no nearer to the icebergs than prudencepermitted, our ship was exposed to great risk, and West wasconstantly obliged to change his trim in order to avoid the shock ofan icefield. 

Fortunately, the wind blew from east to north-nor’-east withoutvariation, and it did not freshen. Had a tempest arisen I know notwhat would have become of the schooner--yes, though, I do know toowell: she would have been lost and all on board of her. In such acase the _Halbrane_ could not have escaped; we must have been flung onthe base of the barrier. 

After a long examination Captain Len Guy had to renounce the hopeof finding a passage through the terrible wall of ice. It remainedonly to endeavour to reach the south-east point of it. At any rate, by following that course we lost nothing in latitude; and, in fact, on the 18th the observation taken made the seventy-third parallelthe position of the _Halbrane_. 

I must repeat, however, that navigation in the Antarctic seas willprobably never be accomplished under more felicitouscircumstances--the precocity of the summer season, the permanenceof the north wind, the temperature forty-nine degrees at the lowest;all this was the best of good-fortune. I need not add that weenjoyed perpetual light, and the whole twenty-four hours round thesun’s rays reached us from every point of the horizon. 

Two or three times the captain approached within two miles of theicebergs. It was impossible but that the vast mass must have beensubjected to climateric influences; ruptures must surely have takenplace at some points. 

But his search had no result, and we had to fall back into thecurrent from west to east. 

I must observe at this point that during all our search we neverdescried land or the appearance of land out at sea, as indicated onthe charts of preceding navigators. These maps are incomplete, nodoubt, but sufficiently exact in their main lines. I am aware thatships have often passed over the indicated bearings of land. This, however, was not admissible in the case of Tsalal. If the _Jane_ hadbeen able to reach the islands, it was because that portion of theAntarctic sea was free, and in so “early” a year, we need notfear any obstacle in that direction. 

At last, on the 19th, between two and three o’clock in theafternoon, a shout from the crow’s-nest was heard. 

“What is it?” roared West. 

“The iceberg wall is split on the south-east. ”

“What is beyond?” “Nothing in sight. ”

It took West very little time to reach the point of observation, andwe all waited below, how impatiently may be imagined. What if thelook-out were mistaken, if some optical delusion?--But West, at allevents, would make no mistake. 

After ten interminable minutes his clear voice reached us on thedeck. 

“Open sea!” he cried. 

Unanimous cheers made answer. 

The schooner’s head was put to the south-east, hugging the wind asmuch as possible. 

Two hours later we had doubled the extremity of the ice-barrier, andthere lay before our eyes a sparkling sea, entirely open. 

(1) The French word is _banquise_, which means the vast stretch oficebergs farther south than the barrière or ice wall. 

CHAPTER XIV. A VOICE IN A DREAM. 

Entirely free from ice? No. It would have been premature to affirmthis as a fact. A few icebergs were visible in the distance, whilesome drifts and packs were still going east. Nevertheless, thebreak-up had been very thorough on that side, and the sea was inreality open, since a ship could sail freely. 

“God has come to our aid, ” said Captain Len Guy. May He bepleased to guide us to the end. ”

“In a week, ” I remarked, “our schooner might come in sight ofTsalal Island. ”

“Provided that the east wind lasts, Mr. Jeorling. Don’t forgetthat in sailing along the icebergs to their eastern extremity, the_Halbrane_ went out of her course, and she must be brought backtowards the west. ”

“The breeze is for us, captain. ”

“And we shall profit by it, for my intention is to make for BennetIslet. It was there that my brother first landed, and so soon as weshall have sighted that island we shall be certain that we are onthe right route. To-day, when I have ascertained our positionexactly, we shall steer for Bennet Islet. ”

“Who knows but that we may come upon some fresh sign?”

“It is not impossible, Mr. Jeorling. ”

I need not say that recourse was had to the surest guide within ourreach, that veracious narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, which I readand re-read with intense attention, fascinated as I was by the ideathat I might be permitted to behold with my own eyes those strangephenomena of nature in the Antarctic world which I, in common withall Edgar Poe’s readers, had hitherto regarded as creations of themost imaginative writer who ever gave voice by his pen to thephantasies of a unique brain. No doubt a great part of the wondersof Arthur Gordon Pym’s narrative would prove pure fiction, but ifeven a little of the marvellous story were found to be true, howgreat a privilege would be mine!

The picturesque and wonderful side of the story we were studying asgospel truth had little charm and but slight interest for CaptainLen Guy; he was indifferent to everything in Pym’s narrative thatdid not relate directly to the castaways of Tsalal Island: his mindwas solely and constantly set upon their rescue. 

According to the narrative of Arthur Pym _Jane_ experienced seriousdifficulties, due to bad weather, from the 1st to the 4th ofJanuary, 1828. It was not until the morning of the 5th, in latitude23° 15’ that she found a free passage through the last icebergthat barred her way. The final difference between our position andthe _Jane_ in a parallel ease, was that the _Jane_ took fifteen days toaccomplish the distance of ten degrees, or six hundred miles, whichseparated her on the 5th of January from Tsalal Island, while on the19th of December the _Halbrane_ was only about seven degrees, or fourhundred miles, off the island. Bennet Islet, where Captain Guyintended to put in for twenty-four hours, was fifty miles nearer. Our voyage was progressing under prosperous conditions; we were nolonger visited by sudden hail and snow storms, or those rapid fallsof temperature which tried the crew of the _Jane_ so sorely. A fewice-floes drifted by us, occasionally peopled, as tourists throng apleasure yacht, by penguins, and also by dusky seals, lying flatupon the white surfaces like enormous leeches. Above this strangeflotilla we traced the incessant flight of petrels, pigeons, blackpuffins, divers, grebe, sterns, cormorants, and the sooty-blackalbatross of the high latitudes. Huge medusas, exquisitely tinted, floated on the water like spread parasols. Among the denizens of thedeep, captured by the crew of the schooner with line and net, Inoted more particularly a sort of giant John Dory (1) (_dorade_) threefeet in length, with firm and savoury flesh. 

During the night, or rather what ought to have been the night of the19th-20th, my sleep was disturbed by a strange dream. Yes! therecould be no doubt but that it was only a dream! Nevertheless, Ithink it well to record it here, because it is an additionaltestimony to the haunting influence under which my brain wasbeginning to labour. 

I was sleeping--at two hours after midnight--and was awakened by aplaintive and continuous murmuring sound. I opened--or I imagined Iopened my eyes. My cabin was in profound darkness. The murmur beganagain; I listened, and it seemed to me that a voice--a voice whichI did not know--whispered these words:--

“Pym . . . Pym . . . Poor Pym!”

Evidently this could only be a delusion; unless, indeed, some onehad got into my cabin: the door was locked. 

“Pym!” the voice repeated. “Poor Pym must never beforgotten. ”

This time the words were spoken close to my ear. What was themeaning of the injunction, and why was it addressed to me? Andbesides, had not Pym, after his return to America, met with a suddenand deplorable death, the circumstances or the details being unknown?

I began to doubt whether I was in my right mind, and shook myselfinto complete wakefulness, recognizing that I had been disturbed byan extremely vivid dream due to some cerebral cause. 

I turned out of my berth, and, pushing back the shutter, looked outof my cabin. No one aft on the deck, except Hunt, who was at thehelm. 

I had nothing to do but to lie down again, and this I did. It seemedto me that the name of Arthur Pym was repeated in my hearing severaltimes; nevertheless, I fell asleep and did not wake until morning, when I retained only a vague impression of this occurrence, whichsoon faded away. No other incident at that period of our voyagecalls for notice. Nothing particular occurred on board our schooner. The breeze from the north, which had forsaken us, did not recur, andonly the current carried the _Halbrane_ towards the south. This causeda delay unbearable to our impatience. 

At last, on the 21st, the usual observation gave 82° 50’ oflatitude, and 42° 20’ of west longitude. Bennet Islet, if it hadany existence, could not be far off now. 

Yes! the islet did exist, and its bearings were those indicated byArthur Pym. 

At six o’clock in the evening one of the crew cried out that therewas land ahead on the port side. 

(1) The legendary etymology of this piscatorial designation is_Janitore_, the “door-keeper, ” in allusion to St. Peter, whobrought a fish said to be of that species, to our Lord at Hiscommand. 

CHAPTER XV. BENNET ISLET. 

The _Halbrane_ was then within sight of Bennet Islet! The crewurgently needed rest, so the disembarkation was deferred until thefollowing day, and I went back to my cabin. 

The night passed without disturbance, and when day came not a craftof any kind was visible on the waters, not a native on the beach. There were no huts upon the coast, no smoke arose in the distance toindicate that Bennet Islet was inhabited. But William Guy had notfound any trace of human beings there, and what I saw of the isletanswered to the description given by Arthur Pym. It rose upon arocky base of about a league in circumference, and was so arid thatno vegetation existed on its surface. 

“Mr. Jeorling, ” said Captain Len Guy, “do you observe apromontory in the direction of the north-east?”

“I observe it, captain. ”

“Is it not formed of heaped-up rocks which look like giant balesof cotton?”

“That is so, and just what the narrative describes. ”

“Then all we have to do is to land on the promontory, Mr. Leoding. Who knows but we may come across some vestige of the crew of thefane, supposing them to have succeeded in escaping from TsalalIsland. ”

The speaker was devouring the islet with his eyes. What must histhoughts, his desires, his impatience have been! But there was a manwhose gaze was set upon the same point even more fixedly; that manwas Hunt. 

Before we left the _Halbrane_ Len Guy enjoined the most minute andcareful watchfulness upon his lieutenant. This was a charge whichWest did not need. Our exploration would take only half a day atmost. If the boat had not returned in the afternoon a second was tobe sent in search of us. 

“Look sharp also after our recruits, ” added the captain. 

“Don’t be uneasy, captain, ” replied the lieutenant. “Indeed, since you want four men at the oars you had better take them fromamong the new ones. That will leave four less troublesome fellows onboard. ”

This was a good idea, for, under the deplorable influence of Hearne, the discontent of his shipmates from the Falklands was on theincrease. The boat being ready, four of the new crew took theirplaces forward, while Hunt, at his own request, was steersman. Captain Len Guy, the boatswain and myself, all well armed, seatedourselves aft, and we started for the northern point of the islet. In the course of an hour we had doubled the promontory, and come insight of the little bay whose shores the boats of the fane hadtouched. 

Hunt steered for this bay, gliding with remarkable skill between therocky points which stuck up here and there. One would have thoughthe knew his way among them. 

We disembarked on a stony coast. The stones were covered with sparselichen. The tide was already ebbing, leaving uncovered the sandybottom of a sort of beach strewn with black blocks, resembling bignail-heads. 

Two men were left in charge of the boat while we landed amid therocks, and, accompanied by the other two, Captain Len Guy, theboatswain, Hunt and I proceeded towards the centre, where we foundsome rising ground, from whence we could see the whole extent of theislet. But there was nothing to be seen on any side, absolutelynothing. On coming down from the slight eminence Hunt went on infront, as it had been agreed that he was to be our guide. Wefollowed him therefore, as he led us towards the southern extremityof the islet. Having reached the point, Hunt looked carefullyon allsides of him, then stooped and showed us a piece of half rotten woodlying among the scattered stones. 

“I remember!” I exclaimed; “Arthur Pym speaks of a piece ofwood with traces of carving on it which appeared to have belonged tothe bow of a ship. ”

“Among the carving my brother fancied he could trace the design ofa tortoise, ” added Captain Len Guy. 

“Just so, ” I replied, “but Arthur Pym pronounced thatresemblance doubtful. No matter; the piece of wood is still in thesame place that is indicated in the narrative, so we may concludethat since the _Jane_ cast anchor here no other crew has ever set footupon Bennet Islet. It follows that we should only lose time inlooking out for any tokens of another landing. We shall know nothinguntil we reach Tsalal Island. ”

“Yes, Tsalal Island, ” replied the captain. 

We then retraced our steps in the direction of the bay. In variousplaces we observed fragments of coral reef, and bêche-de-mer was soabundant that our schooner might have taken a full cargo of it. Hunt walked on in silence with downcast eyes, until as we were closeupon the beach to the east, he, being about ten paces ahead, stoppedabruptly, and summoned us to him by a hurried gesture. 

In an instant we were by his side. Hunt had evinced no surprise onthe subject of the piece of wood first found, but his attitudechanged when he knelt down in front of a worm-eaten plank lying onthe sand. He felt it all over with his huge hands, as though he wereseeking sotne tracery on its rough surface whose signification mightbe intelligible to him. The black paint was hidden under the thickdirt that had accumulated upon it. The plank had probably formedpart of a ship’s stern, as the boatswain requested us to observe. 

“Yes, yes, ” repeated Captain Len Guy, “it made part of astern. ”

Hunt, who still remained kneeling, nodded his big head in assent. 

“But, ” I remarked, “this plank must have been cast upon BennetIslet from a wreck! The cross-currents must have found it in theopen sea, and--”

“If that were so--” cried the captain. 

The same thought had occurred to both of us. What was our surprise, indeed our amazement, our unspeakable emotion, when Hunt showed useight letters cut in the plank, not painted, but hollow anddistinctly traceable with the finger. 

It was only too easy to recognize the letters of two names, arrangedin two lines, thus:

 AN LI. E. PO. L. 

The _Jane of Liverpool_! The schooner commanded by Captain WilliamGuy! What did it matter that time had blurred the other letters?Did not those suffice to tell the name of the ship and the port shebelonged to? The _Jane_ of Liverpool!

Captain Len Guy had taken the plank in his hands, and now he pressedhis lips to it, while tears fell from his eyes. 

It was a fragment of the _Jane_! I did not utter a word until thecaptain’s emotion had subsided. As for Hunt, I had never seen sucha lightning glance from his brilliant hawk-like eyes as he now casttowards the southern horizon. 

Captain Len Guy rose. 

Hunt, without a word, placed the plank upon his shoulder, and wecontinued our route. 

When we had made the tour of the island, we halted at the placewhere the boat had been left under the charge of two sailors, andabout half-past two in the afternoon we were again on board. 

Early on the morning of the 23rd of December the _Halbrane_ put offfrom Bennet Islet, and we carried away with us new and convincingtestimony to the catastrophe which Tsalal Island had witnessed. 

During that day, I observed the sea water very attentively, and itseemed to me less deeply blue than Arthur Pym describes it. Nor hadwe met a single specimen of his monster of the austral fauna, ananimal three feet long, six inches high, with fourshort legs, longcoral claws, a silky body, a rat’s tail, a cat’s head, thehanging ears, blood-red lips and white teeth of a dog. The truth isthat I regarded several of these details as “suspect, ” andentirely due toan over-imaginative temperament. 

Seated far aft in the ship, I read Edgar Poe’s book with sedulousattention, but I was not unaware of the fact that Hunt, whenever hisduties furnished him with an opportunity, observed mepertinaciously, and with looks of singular meaning. 

And, in fact, I was re-perusing the end of Chapter XVII. , in whichArthur Pym acknowledged his responsibility for the sad and tragicevents which were the results of his advice. It was, in fact, he whoover-persuaded Captain William Guy, urging him “to profit by sotempting an opportunity of solving the great problem relating to theAntarctic Continent. ” And, besides, while accepting thatresponsibility, did he not congratulate himself on having been theinstrument of a great discovery, and having aided in some degree toreveal to science one of the most marvellous secrets which had everclaimed its attention?

At six o’clock the sun disappeared behind a thick curtain of mist. After midnight the breeze freshened, and the _Halbrane’s_ progressmarked a dozen additional miles. 

On the morrow the good ship was less than the third of a degree, that is to say less than twenty miles, from Tsalal Island. 

Unfortunately, just after mid-day, the wind fell. Nevertheless, thanks to the current, the Island of Tsalal was signalled atforty-five minutes past six in the evening. 

The anchor was cast, a watch was set, with loaded firearms withinhand-reach, and boarding-nets ready. The _Halbrane_ ran no risk ofbeing surprised. Too eyes were watching on board--especially thoseof Hunt, whose gaze never quitted the horizon of that southern zonefor an instant. 

CHAPTER XVI, TSALAL ISLAND. 

The night passed without alarm. No boat had put off from the island, nor had a native shown himself upon the beach. The _Halbrane_, then, had not been observed on her arrival; this was all the better. 

We had cast anchor in ten fathoms, at three miles from the coast. 

When the _Jane_ appeared in these waters, the people of Tsalal behelda ship for the first time, and they took it for an enormous animal, regarding its masts as limbs, and its sails as garments. Now, theyought to be better informed on this subject, and if they did notattempt to visit us, to what motive were we to assign such conduct?

Captain Len Guy gave orders for the lowering of the ship’s largestboat, in a voice which betrayed his impatience. 

The order was executed, and the captain, addressing West, said--

“Send eight men down with Martin Holt; send Hunt to the helm. Remain yourself at the moorings, and keep a look-out landwards aswell as to sea. ”

“Aye, aye, sir; don’t be uneasy. ”

“We are going ashore, and we shall try to gain the village ofKlock-Klock. If any difficulty should arise on sea, give us warningby firing three shots. ”

“All right, ” replied West--”at a minute’s interval. ”

“If we should not return before evening, send the second boat withten armed men under the boatswain’s orders, and let them stationthemselves within a cable’s length of the shore, so as to escortus back. You understand?”

“Perfectly, captain. ”

“If we are not to be found, after you have done all in your power, you will take command of the schooner, and bring her back to theFalklands. ”

“I will do so. ”

The large boat was rapidly got ready. Eight men embarked in it, including Martin Holt and Hunt, all armed with rifles, pistols, andknives; the latter weapons were slung in their belts. They alsocarried cartridge-pouches. I stepped forward and said, --

“Will you not allow me to accompany you, captain?”

“If you wish to do so, Mr. Jeorling. ”

I went to my cabin, took my gun--a repeating rifle--with ball andpowder, and rejoined Captain Len Guy, who had kept a place in thestern of the boat for me. Our object was to discover the passagethrough which Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters had crossed the reef on the19th of January, 1828, in the _Jane’s_ boat. For twenty minutes werowed along the reef, and then Hunt discovered the pass, which wasthrough a narrow cut in the rocks. Leaving two men in the boat, welanded, and having gone through the winding gorge which gave accessto the crest of the coast, our little force, headed by Hunt, pushedon towards the centre of the island. Captain Len Guy and myselfexchanged observations, as we walked, on the subject of thiscountry, which, as Arthur Pym declared, differed essentially fromevery other land hitherto visited by human beings. We soon foundthat Pym’s description was trustworthy. The general colour of theplains was black, as though the clay were made of lava-dust; nowherewas anything white to be seen. At a hundred paces distance Huntbegan to run towards an enormous mass of rock, climbed on it withgreat agility, and looked out overa wide extent of space like a manwho ought to recognize the place he is in, but does not. 

“What is the matter with him?” asked Captain Len Guy, who wasobserving Hunt attentively. 

“I don’t know what is the matter with him, captain. But, as youare aware, everything about this man is odd: his ways areinexplicable, and on certain sides of him he seems to belong tothose strange beings whom Arthur Pym asserts that he found on thisisland. One would even say that--”

“That--” repeated the captain. 

And then, without finishing my sentence, I said, --

“Captain, are you sure that you made a good observation when youtook the altitude yesterday?”

“Certainly. ”

“So that your point--”

“Gave 83° 20’ of latitude and 43° 5’ of longitude. ”

“Exactly?”

“Exactly. ”

“There is, then, no doubt that we are on Tsalal Island?”

“None, Mr. Jeorling, if Tsalal Island lies where Arthur Pym placesit. ”

This was quite true, there could be no doubt on the point, and yetof all that Arthur Pym described nothing existed, or rather, nothingwas any longer to be seen. Not a tree, not a shrub, not a plant wasvisible in the landscape. There was no sign of the wooded hillsbetween which the village of Klock-Klock ought to lie, or of thestreams from which the crew of the fane had not ventured to drink. There was no water anywhere; but everywhere absolute, awful drought. 

Nevertheless, Hunt walked on rapidly, without showing anyhesitation. It seemed as though he was led by a natural instinct, “a bee’s flight, ” as we say in America. I know not whatpresentiment induced us to follow him as the best of guides, aChingachgook, a Renard-Subtil. And why not? Was not he thefellow-countryman of Fenlmore Coopet’s heroes?

But, I must repeat that we had not before our eyes that fabulousland which Arthur Pym described. The soil we were treading had beenravaged, wrecked, torn by convulsion. It was black, a cindery black, as though it had been vomited from the earth under the action ofPlutonian forces; it suggested that some appalling and irresistiblecataclysm had overturned the whole of its surface. 

Not one of the animals mentioned in the narrative was to be seen, and even the penguins which abound in the Antarctic regions had fledfrom this uninhabitable land. Its stern silence and solitude made ita hideous desert. No human being was to be seen either on the coastor in the interior. Did any chance of finding William Guy and thesurvivors of the fane exist in the midst of this scene of desolation?

I looked at Captain Len Guy. His pale face, dim eyes, and knit browtold too plainly that hope was beginning to die within his breast. 

And then the population of Tsalal Island, the almost naked men, armed with clubs and lances, the tall, well-made, upstanding women, endowed with grace and freedom of bearing not to be found in acivilized society--those are the expressions of Arthur Pym--andthe crowd of children accompanying them, what had become of allthese? Where were the multitude of natives, with black skins, blackhair, black teeth, who regarded white colour with deadly terror?

All of a sudden a light flashed upon me. “An earthquake!” Iexclaimed. “Yes, two or three of those terrible shocks, so commonin these regions where the sea penetrates by infiltration, and a daycomes when the quantity of accumulated vapour makes its way out anddestroys everything on the surface. ”

“Could an earthquake have changed Tsalal Island to such anextent?” asked Len Guy, musingly. 

“Yes, captain, an earthquake has done this thing; it has destroyedevery trace of all that Arthur Pym saw here. ”

Hunt, who had drawn nigh to us, and was listening, nodded his headin approval of my words. 

“Are not these countries of the southern seas volcanic?” Iresumed; “If the _Halbrane_ were to transport us to Victoria Land, we might find the _Erebus_ and the _Terror_ in the midst of aneruption. ”

“And yet, ” observed Martin Holt, “if there had been aneruption here, we should find lava beds. ”

“I do not say that there has been an eruption, ” I replied, “but I do say the soil has been convulsed by an earthquake. ”

On reflection it will be seen that the explanation given by medeserved to be admitted. And then it came to my remembrance thataccording to Arthur Pym’s narrative, Tsalal belonged to a group ofislands which extended towards the west. Unless the people of Tsalalhad been destroyed, it was possible that they might have fled intoone of the neighbouring islands. We should do well, then, to go andreconnoitre that archipelago, for Tsalal clearly had no resourceswhatever to offer after the cataclysm. I spoke of this to the captain. 

“Yes, ” he replied, and tears stood in his eyes, “yes, it maybe so. And yet, how could my brother and his unfortunate companionshave found the means of escaping? Is it not far more probable thatthey all perished in the earthquake?”

Here Hunt made us a signal to follow him, and we did so. 

After he had pushed across the valley for a considerable distance, he stopped. 

What a spectacle was before our eyes!

There, lying in heaps, were human bones, all the fragments of thatframework of humanity which we call the skeleton, hundreds of them, without a particle of flesh, clusters of skulls still bearing sometufts of hair--a vast bone heap, dried and whitened in this place!We were struck dumb and motionless by this spectacle. When CaptainLen Guy could speak, he murmured, --

“My brother, my poor brother!”

On a little reflection, however, my mind refused to admit certainthings. How was this catastrophe to be reconciled with Patterson’smemoranda? The entries in his note-book stated explicitly that themate of the _Jane_ had left his companions on Tsalal Island sevenmonths previously. They could not then have perished in thisearthquake, for the state of the bones proved that it had takenplace several years earlier, and must have occurred after thedeparture of Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters, since no mention of it wasmade in the narrative of the former. 

These facts were, then, irreconcilable. If the earthquake was ofrecent date, the presence of those time-bleached skeletons could notbe attributed to its action. In any case, the survivors of the _Jane_were not among them. But then, where were they?

The valley of Klock-Klock extended no farther; we had to retrace oursteps in order to regain the coast. We had hardly gone half a mileon the cliff’s edge when Hunt again stopped, on perceiving somefragments of bones which were turning to dust, and did not seem tobe those of a human being. 

Were these the remains of one of the strange animals described byArthur Pym, of which we had not hitherto seen any specimens?

Hunt suddenly uttered a cry, or rather a sort of savage growl, andheld out his enormous hand, holding a metal collar. Yes I a brasscollar, a collar eaten by rust, but bearing letters which mightstill be deciphered. These letters formed the three followingwords:--

“_Tiger_--Arthur Pym. ”

Tiger!--the name of the dog which had saved Arthur Pym’s life inthe hold of the _Grampus_, and, during the revolt of the crew, hadsprung at the throat of Jones, the sailor, who was immediately“finished” by Dirk Peters. 

So, then, that faithful animal had not perished in the shipwreck ofthe _Grampus_. He had been taken on board the _Jane_ at the same time asArthur Pym and the half-breed. And yet the narrative did not alludeto this, and after the meeting with the schooner there was no longerany mention of the dog. All these contradictions occurred to me. Icould not reconcile the facts. Nevertheless, there could be no doubtthat Tiger had been saved from the shipwreck like Arthur Pym, hadescaped the landslip of the Klock-Klock hill, and had come to hisdeath at last in the catastrophe which had destroyed a portion ofthe population of Tsalal. 

But, again, William Guy and his five sailors could not be amongthose skeletons which were strewn upon the earth, since they wereliving at the time of Patterson’s departure, seven months ago, andthe catastrophe already dated several years back!

Three hours later we had returned on board the _Halbrane_, withouthaving made any other discovery. Captain Len Guy went direct to hiscabin, shut himself up there, and did not reappear even at dinnerhour. 

The following day, as I wished to return to the island in order toresume its exploration from one coast to the other, I requested Westto have me rowed ashore. 

He consented, after he had been authorized by Captain Len Guy, whodid not come with us. 

Hung the boatswain, Martin Holt, four men, and myself took ourplaces in the boatt without arms; for there was no longer anythingto fear. 

We disembarked at our yesterday’s landing-place, and Hunt againled the way towards the hill of Klock-Klock. Nothing remained of theeminence that had been carried away in the artificial landslip, fromwhich the captain of the _Jane_, Patterson, his second officer, andfive of his men had happily escaped. The village of Klock-Klock hadthus disappeared; and doubtless the mystery of the strangediscoveries narrated in Edgar Poe’s work was now and ever wouldremain beyond solution. 

We had only to regain our ship, returning by the east side of thecoast. Hunt brought us through the space where sheds had beenerected for the preparation of the _bêche-de mer_, and we saw theremains of them. On all sides silence and abandonment reigned. 

We made a brief pause at the place where Arthur Pym and Dirk Petersseized upon the boat which bore them towards higher latitudes, evento that horizon of dark vapour whose rents permitted them to discernthe huge human figure, the white giant. 

Hunt stood with crossed arms, his eyes devouring the vast extent ofthe sea. 

“Well, Hunt?” said I, tentatively. 

Hunt did not appear to hear me; he did not turn his head in mydirection. 

“What are we doing here?” I asked him, and touched him on theshoulder. 

He started, and cast a glance upon me which went to my heart. 

“Come along, Hunt, ” cried Hurliguerly. “Are you going to takeroot on this rock? Don’t you see the _Halbrane_ waiting for us ather moorings? Come along. We shall be off to-morrow. There isnothing more to do here. ”

It seemed to me that Hunt’s trembling lips repeated the word“nothing, ” while his whole bearing protested against what theboatswain said. 

The boat brought us back to the ship. Captain Len Guy had not lefthis cabin. West, having received no orders, was pacing the deck aft. I seated myself at the foot of the mainmast, observing the sea whichlay open and free before us. 

At this moment the captain came on deck; he was very pale, and hisfeatures looked pinched and weary. 

“Mr. Jeorling, ” said he, “I can affirm conscientiously that Ihave done all it was possible to do. Can I hope henceforth that mybrother William and his companions--No! No! We must goaway--before winter--”

He drew himself up, and cast a last glance towards Tsalal Island. 

“To-morrow, Jim, ” he said to West, “to morrow we will makesail as early as possible. ”

At this moment a rough voice uttered the words:

“And Pym--poor Pym!”

I recognized this voice. 

It was the voice I had heard in my dream. 

CHAPTER XVII. AND PYM?

“And Pym--poor Pym?”

I turned round quickly. 

Hunt had spoken. This strange person was standing motionless at alittle distance, gazing fixedly at the horizon. 

It was so unusual to hear Hunt’s voice on board the schooner, thatthe men, whom the unaccustomed sound reached, drew near, moved bycuriosity. Did not his unexpected intervention point to--I had apresentiment that it did--some wonderful revelation?

A movement of West’s hand sent the men forward, leaving only themate, the boatswain, Martin Holt, the sailing-master, and Hardy, with the captain and myself in the vicinity of Hunt. The captainapproached and addressed him:

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘And Pym--poor Pym. ’“

“Well, then, what do you mean by repeating the name of the manwhose pernicious advice led my brother to the island on which the_Jane_ was lost, the greater part of her crew was massacred, and wherewe have not found even one left of those who were still here sevenmonths ago?”

Hunt did not speak. 

“Answer, I say--answer!” cried the captain. 

Hunt hesitated, not because he did not know what to say, but from acertain difficulty in expressing his ideas. The latter were quiteclear, but his speech was confused, his words were unconnected. Hehad a certain language of his own which sometimes was picturesque, and his pronunciation was strongly marked by the hoarse accent ofthe Indians of the Far West. 

“You see, ” he said, “I do not know how to tell things. Mytongue stops. Understand me, I spoke of Pym, poor Pym, did I not?”

“Yes, ” answered West, sternly; “and what have you to say aboutArthur Pym?”

“I have to say that he must not be abandoned. ”

“Abandoned!” I exclaimed. 

“No, never! It would be cruel--too cruel. We must go to seekhim. ”

“To seek him?” repeated Captain Len Guy. 

“Understand me; it is for this that I have embarked on the_Halbrane_--yes, to find poor Pym!”

“And where is he, ” I asked, “if not deep in a grave, in thecemetery of his natal city?”

“No, he is in the place where he remained, alone, all alone, ”continued Hunt, pointing towards the south; “and since then thesun has risen on that horizon seven times. ”

It was evident that Hunt intended to designate the Antarcticregions, but what did he mean by this?

“Do you not know that Arthur Pym is dead?” said the captain. 

“Dead!” replied Hunt, emphasizing the word with an expressivegesture. “No! listen to me: I know things; understand me, he isnot dead. ”

“Come now, Hunt, ” said I, “remember what you do know. In thelast chapter of the adventures of Arthur Pym, does not Edgar Poerelate his sudden and deplorable end?”

“Explain yourself, Hunt, ” said the captain, in a tone ofcommand. “Reflect, take your time, and say plainly whatever youhave to say. ”

And, while Hunt passed his hand over his brow, as though to collecthis memory of far-off things, I observed to Captain Len Guy, --

“There is something very singular in the intervention of this man, if indeed he be not mad. ”

At my words the boatswain shook his head, for he did not believeHunt to be in his right mind. 

The latter understood this shake of the boatswain’s head, andcried out in a harsh tone, --

“No, not mad. And madmen are respected on the prairies, even ifthey are not believed. And I--I must be believed. No, no, no! Pymis not dead!”

“Edgar Poe asserts that he is, ” I replied. 

“Yes, I know, Edgar Poe of Baltimore. But--he never saw poor Pym, never, never. ”

“What!” exclaimed Captain Len Guy; “the two men were notacquainted?”

“No!”

“And it was not Arthur Pym himself who related his adventures toEdgar Poe?”

“No, captain, no! He, below there, at Baltimore, had only thenotes written by Pym from the day when he hid himself on board the_Grampus_ to the very last hour--the last--understand me the last. ”

“Who, then, brought back that journal?” asked Captain Len Guy, as he seized Hunt’s hand. 

“It was Pym’s companion, he who loved him, his poor Pym, like ason. It was Dirk Peters, the half-breed, who came back alone fromthere--beyond. ”

“The half-breed, Dirk Peters!” I exclaimed. 

“Yes. ”

“Alone?”

“Alone. ”

“And Arthur Pym may be--”

“There, ” answered Hunt, in a loud voice, bending towards thesouthern line, from which he had not diverted his gaze for a moment. 

Could such an assertion prevail against the general incredulity? No, assuredly not! Martin Holt nudged Hurliguerly with his elbow, andboth regarded Hunt with pity, while West observed him withoutspeaking. Captain Len Guy made me a sign, meaning that nothingserious was to be got out of this poor fellow, whose mentalfaculties must have been out of gear for a long time. 

And nevertheless, when I looked keenly at Hunt, it seemed to me thata sort of radiance of truth shone out of his eyes:

Then I set to work to interrogate the man, putting to him preciseand pressing questions which he tried to answer categorically, as weshall see, and not once did he contradict himself. 

“Tell me, ” I asked, “did Arthur Pym really come to TsalalIsland on board the _Grampus_?”

“Yes. ”

“Did Arthur Pym separate himself, with the half-breed and one ofthe sailors, from his companions while Captain William Guy had goneto the village of Klock-Klock?”

“Yes. The sailor was one Allen, and he was almost immediatelystifled under the stones. ”

“Then the two others saw the attack, and the destruction of theschooner, from the top of the hill?”

“Yes. ”

“Then, some time later, the two left the island, after they hadgot possession of one of the boats which the natives could not takefrom them?”

“Yes. ”

“And, after twenty days, having reached the front of the curtainof vapour, they were both carried down into the gulf of thecataract?”

This time Hunt did not reply in the affirmative; he hesitated, hestammered out some vague words; he seemed to be trying to rekindlethe half-extinguished flame of his memory. At length, looking at meand shaking his head, he answered, --

“No, not both. Understand me--Dirk never told me--”

“Dirk Peters” interposed Captain Len Guy, quickly. “You knewDirk Peters?”

“Yes. ”

“Where?”

“At Vandalia, State of Illinois. ”

“And it is from him that you have all this information concerningthe voyage?”

“From him. ”

“And he came back alone--alone--from that voyage, having leftArthur Pym. ”

“Alone!”

“Speak, man--do speak!” I cried, impatiently. Then, in broken, but intelligible sentences, Hunt spoke, --

“Yes--there--a curtain of vapour--so the half-breed oftensaid--understand me. The two, Arthur Pym and he, were in the Tsalalboat. Then an enormous block of ice came full upon them. At theshock Dirk Peters was thrown into the sea, but he clung to the iceblock, and--understand me, he saw the boat drift with the current, far, very far, too far! In vain did Pym try to rejoin his companion, he could not; the boat drifted on and on, and Pym, that poor dearPym, was carried away. It is he who has never come back, and he isthere, still there!”

If Hunt had been the half-breed in person he could not have spokenwith more heartfelt emotion of “poor Pym. ”

It was then, in front of the “curtain of vapour, ” that ArthurPym and the half-breed had been separated from each other. DirkPeters had succeeded in returning from the ice-world to America, whither he had conveyed the notes that were communicated to EdgarPoe. 

Hunt was minutely questioned upon all these points and he replied, conformably, he declared, to what the half-breed had told him manytimes. According to this statement, Dirk Peters had Arthur Pym’snote-book in his pocket at the moment when the ice-block struckthem, and thus the journal which the half-breed placed at thedisposal of the American romance-writer was saved. 

“Understand me, ” Hunt repeated, “for I tell you things as Ihave them from Dirk Peters. While the drift was carrying him away, he cried out with all his strength. Pym, poor Pym, had alreadydisappeared in the midst of the vapour. The half-breed, feeding uponraw fish, which he contrived to catch, was carried back by a crosscurrent to Tsalal Island, where he landed half dead from hunger. ”

“To Tsalal Island!” exclaimed Captain Len Guy. “And how longwas it since they had left it?”

“Three weeks--yes, three weeks at the farthest, so Dirk Peterstold me. ”

“Then he must have found all that remained of the crew of the_Jane_--my brother William and those who had survived with him?”

“No, ” replied Hunt; “and Dirk Peters always believed that theyhad perished--yes, to the very last man. There was no one upon theisland. ”

“No one?”“Not a living soul. ”

“But the population?”

”No one! No one, I tell you. The island was a desert--yes, adesert!”

This statement contradicted certain facts of which we wereabsolutely certain. After all, though, it that when Dirk Petersreturned to Tsalal Island, the population, seized by who can tellwhat terror, had already taken refuge upon the south-western group, and that William Guy and his companions were still hidden in gorgesof Klock-Klock. That would explain why half-breed had not comeacross them, and also why survivors of the _Jane_ had had nothing tofear during eleven years of their sojourn in the island. On theother hand, since Patterson had left them there seven previously, ifwe did not find them, that must have because they had been obligedto leave Tsalal, the being rendered uninhabitable by the earthquake. 

“So that, ” resumed Captain Len Guy, “on the return of DirkPeters, there was no longer an inhabitant on the island?”

“No one, ” repeated Hunt, “no one. The half-breed did not meeta single native. ”

“And what did Dirk Peters do?”

“Understand me. A forsaken boat lay there, at the back of the bay, containing some dried meat and several casks of water. Thehalf-breed got into it, and a south wind--yes, south, very strong, the same that had driven the ice block, with the cross current, towards Tsalal Island--carried him on for weeks and weeks--to theiceberg barrier, through a passage in it--you may believe me, I amtelling you only what Dirk Peters told me--and he cleared the polarcircle. ”

“And beyond it?” I inquired. 

“Beyond it. He was picked up by an American whaler, the _SandyHook_, and taken back to America. ”

Now, one thing at all events was clear. Edgar Poe had never knownArthur Pym. This was the reason why, to leave his readers inexciting uncertainty, he had brought Pym to an end “as sudden asit was deplorable, ” without indicating the manner or the cause ofhis death. 

“And yet, although Arthur Pym did not return, could it bereasonably admitted that he had survived his companion for anylength of time, that he was still living, eleven years havingelapsed since his disappearance?”

“Yes, yes, ” replied Hunt. 

And this he affirmed with the strong conviction that Dirk Peters hadinfused into his mind while the two were living togather inVandalia, in Illinois. 

Now the question arose, was Hunt sane? Was it not he who had stoleninto my cabin in a fit of insanity--of this I had no doubt--andmurmured in my ear the words: “And Pym--poor Pym?”

Yes, and I had not been dreaming! In short, if all that Hunt hadjust said was true, if he was but the faithful reporter of secretswhich had been entrusted to him by Dirk Peters, ought he to bebelieved when he repeated in a tone of mingled command andentreaty, --

“Pym is not dead. Pym is there. Poor Pym must not be forsaken!”

When I had made an end of questioning Hunt, Captain Len Guy came outof his meditative mood, profoundly troubled, and gave the word, “All hands forward!”

When the men were assembled around him, he said, --

“Listen to me, Hunt, and seriously consider the gravity of thequestions I am about to put to you. ”

Hunt held his head up, and ran his eyes over the crew of the_Halbrane_. 

“You assert, Hunt, that all you have told us concerning Arthur Pymis true?”

“Yes. ”

“You knew Dirk Peters?”

“Yes. ”

“You lived some years with him in Illinois?”

“Nine years. ”

“And he often related these things to you?”

“Yes. ”

“And, for your own part, you have no doubt that he told you theexact truth?”

“None. ”

“Well, then, did it never occur to him that some of the crew ofthe _Jane_ might have remained on Tsalal Island?”

“No. ”

“He believed that William Guy and his companions must all haveperished in the landslip of the hill of Klock-Klock?”

“Yes, and from what he often repeated to me, Pym believed italso. ”

“Where did you see Dirk Peters for the last time?”

“At Vandalia. ”

“How long ago?”

“Over two years. ”

“And which of you two was the first to leave Vandalia?”

I thought I detected a slight hesitation in Hunt before heanswered, --

“We left the place together. ”

“You, to go to?”

“The Falklands. ”

“And he--”

“He?” repeated Hunt. 

And then his wandering gaze fixed itself on Martin Holt, oursailing-master, whose life he had saved at the risk of his ownduring the tempest. 

“Well!” resumed the captain, “do you not understand what I amasking you?”

“Yes. ”

“Then answer me. When Dirk Peters left Illinois, did he finallygive up America?”

“Yes. ”

“To go whither? Speak!”

“To the Falklands. ”

“And where is he now?”

“He stands before you. ”

Dirk Peters! Hunt was the half-breed Dirk Peters, the devotedcompanion of Arthur Pym, he whom Captain Guy had so long sought forin the United States, and whose presence was probably to furnish uswith a fresh reason for pursuing our daring campaign. 

I shall not be at all surprised if my readers have alreadyrecognized Dirk Peters in Hunt; indeed, I shall be astonished ifthey have failed to do so. The extraordinary thing is that CaptainLen Guy and myself, who had read Edgar Poe’s book over and overagain, did not see at once, when Hunt came on the ship at theFalklands, that he and the half-breed were identical! I can onlyadmit that we were both blindfolded by some hidden action of Fate, just when certain pages of that book ought to have effectuallycleared our vision. 

There was no doubt whatever that Hunt really was Dirk Peters. Although he was eleven years older, he answered in every particularto the description of him given by Arthur Pym, except that he was nolonger “of fierce aspect. ” In fact, the half-breed had changedwith age and the experience of terrible scenes through which he hadpassed; nevertheless, he was still the faithful companion to whomArthur Pym had often owed his safety, that same Dirk Peters wholoved him as his own son, and who had never--no, never--lost thehope of finding him again one day amid the awful Antarctic wastes. 

Now, why had Dirk Peters hidden himself in the Falklands under thename of Hunt? Why, since his embarkation on the _Halbrane_, had hekept up that _incognito_? Why had he not told who he was, since he wasaware of the intentions of the captain, who was about to make everyeffort to save his countrymen by following the course of the _Jane_?

Why? No doubt because he feared that his name would inspire horror. Was it not the name of one who had shared in the horrible scenes ofthe _Grampus_, who had killed Parker, the sailor, who had fed upon theman’s flesh, and quenched his thirst in the man’s blood? Toinduce him to reveal his name he must needs be assured that the_Halbrane_ would attempt to discover and rescue Arthur Pym!

And as to the existence of Arthur Pym? I confess that my reason didnot rebel against the admission of it as a possibility. Theimploring cryof the half-breed, “Pym, poor Pym! he must not beforsaken!” troubled me profoundly. 

Assuredly, since I had resolved to take part in the expedition ofthe _Halbrane_, I was no longer the same man!

A long silence had followed the astounding declaration of thehalf-breed. None dreamed of doubting his veracity. He had said, “Iam Dirk Peters. ” He was Dirk Peters. 

At length, moved by irresistible impulse, I said:

“My friends, before any decision is made, let us carefullyconsider the situation. Should we not lay up everlasting regret forourselves if we were to abandon our expedition at the very momentwhen it promises to succeed? Reflect upon this, captain, and you, my companions. It is less than seven months since Patterson leftyour countrymen alive on Tsalal Island. If they were there then, thefact proves that for eleven years they had been enabled to exist onthe resources provided by the island, having nothing to fear fromthe islanders, some of whom had fallen victims to circumstancesunknown to us, and others had probably transferred themselves tosome neighbouring island. This is quite plain, and I do not see howany objection can be raised to my reasoning. ”

No one made answer: there was none to be made. 

“If we have not come across the captain of the _Jane_ and hispeople, ” I resumed, “it is because they have been obliged toabandon Tsalal Island since Patterson’s departure. Why? In mybelief, it was because the earthquake had rendered the islanduninhabitable. Now, they would only have required a native boat togain either another island or some point of the Antarctic continentby the aid of the southern current. I hardly hesitate to assert thatall this has occurred; but in any case, I know, and I repeat, thatwe shall have done nothing if we do not persevere in the search onwhich the safety of your countrymen depends. ”

I questioned my audience by a searching look. No answer. 

Captain Len Guy, whose emotion was unrestrained, bowed his head, forhe felt that I was right, that by invoking the duties of humanity Iwas prescribing the only course open to men with feeling hearts. 

“And what is in question?” I continued, after the silent pause. “To accomplish a few degrees of latitude, and that while the seais open, while we have two months of good weather to look for, andnothing to fear from the southern winter. I certainly should not askyou to brave its severity. And shall we hesitate, when the _Halbrane_is abundantly furnished, her crew complete and in good health? Shallwe take fright at imaginary dangers? Shall we not have courage to goon, on, thither?”

And I pointed to the southern horizon. Dirk Peters pointed to italso, with an imperative gesture which spoke for him. 

Still, the eyes of all were fixed upon us, but there was noresponse. I continued to urge every argument, and to quote everyexample in favour of the safety of pursuing our voyage, but thesilence was unbrokenj and now the men stood with eyes cast down. 

And yet I had not once pronounced the name of Dirk Peters, noralluded to Dirk Peters’ proposal. 

I was asking myself whether I had or had not succeeded in inspiringmy companions with my own belief, when Captain Len Guy spoke:

“Dirk Peters, ” he said, “doyou assert that Arthur Pym and youafter your departure from Tsalal Island saw land in the direction ofthe south?”

“Yes, land, ” answered the half-breed. “Islands orcontinent--understand me--and I believe that Pym, poor Pym, iswaiting there until aid comes to him. ”

“There, where perhaps William Guy and his companions are alsowaiting, ” said I, to bring back the discussion to more practicalpoints. 

Captain Len Guy reflected for a little while, and then spoke:

“Is it true, Dirk Peters, ” he asked, “that beyond theeighty-fourth parallel the horizon is shut in by that curtain ofvapour which is described in the narrative? Have you seen--seenwith your own eyes--those cataracts in the air, that gulf in whichArthur Pym’s boat was lost?”

The half-breed looked from one to the other of us, and shook his bighead. 

“I don’t know, ” he said. “What are you asking me about, captain? A curtain of vapour? Yes, perhaps, and also appearances ofland towards the south. ”

Evidently Dirk Peters had never read Edgar Poe’s book, and verylikely did not know how to read. After having handed over Pym’sjournal, he had not troubled himself about its publication. Havingretired to Illinois at first and to the Falklands afterwards, he hadno notion of the stir that the work had made, or of the fantasticand baseless climax to which our great poet had brought thosestrange adventures. 

And, besides, might not Arthur Pym himself, with his tendency to thesupernatural, have fancied that he saw these wondrous things, duesolely to his imaginative brain?

Then, for the first time in the course of this discussion, West’svoice made itself heard. I had no idea which side he would take. Thefirst words he uttered were:

“Captain, your orders?”

Captain Len Guy turned towards his crew, who surrounded him, boththe old and the new. Hearne remained in the background, ready tointervene if he should think it necessary. 

The captain questioned the boatswain and his comrades, whosedevotion was unreservedly his, by a long and anxious look, and Iheard him mutter between his teeth, --

“Ah! if it depended only on me! if I were sure of the assent andthe help of them all!

“Then Hearne spoke roughly:

“Captain, ” said he, “it’s two months since we left theFalklands. Now, my companions were engaged for a voyage which wasnot to take them farther beyond the icebergs than Tsalal Island. ”

“That is not so, ” exclaimed Captain Len Guy. “No! That is notso. I recruited you all for an enterprise which I have a right topursue, so far as I please. ”

“Beg pardon, ” said Hearne, coolly, “but we have come to apoint which no navigator has ever yet reached, in a sea, no shipexcept the _Jane_ has ever ventured into before us, and therefore mycomrades and I mean to return to the Falklands before the badseason. From there you can return to Tsalal Island, and even go onto the Pole, if you so please. ”

A murmur of approbation greeted his words; no doubt thesealing-master justly interpreted the sentiments of the majority, composed of the new recruits. To go against their opinion, to exactthe obedience of these ill-disposed men, and under such conditionsto risk the unknown Antarctic waters, would have been an act oftemerity--or, rather, an act of madness--that would have broughtabout some catastrophe. 

Nevertheless, West, advancing upon Hearne, said to him in athreatening tone, ”Who gave you leave to speak?”

“The captain questioned us, ” replied Hearne. “I had a right toreply. ”

The man uttered these words with such insolence that West, who wasgenerally so self-restrained, was about to give free vent to hiswrath, when Captain Len Guy, stopping him by a motion of his hand, said quietly, --

“Be calm, Jem. Nothing can be done unless we are all agreed. Whatis your opinion, Hurtiguerly?”

“It is very clear, captain, ” replied the boatswain. “I willobey your orders, whatever they may be! It is our duty not toforsake William Guy and the others so long as any chance of savingthem remains. ”

The boatswain paused for a moment, while several of the sailors gaveunequivocal signs of approbation. 

“As for what concerns Arthur Pym--”

“There is no question of Arthur Pym, ” struck in the captain, “but only of my brother William and his companions. ”

I saw at this moment that Dirk Peters was about to protest, andcaught hold of his arm. He shook with anger, but kept silence. 

The captain continued his questioning of the men, desiring to knowby name all those upon whom he might reckon. The old crew to a manacquiesced in his proposals, and pledged themselves to obey hisorders implicitly and follow him whithersoever he chose to go. 

Three only of the recruits joined those faithful seamen; these wereEnglish sailors. The others were of Hearne’s opinion, holding thatfor them the campaign was ended at Tsalal Island. They thereforerefused to go beyond that point, and formally demanded that the shipshould be steered northward so as to clear the icebergs at the mostfavourable period of the season. 

Twenty men were on their side, and to constrain them to lend a handto the working of the ship if she were to be diverted to the southwould have been to provoke them to rebel. There was but oneresource: to arouse their covetousness, to strike the chord ofself-interest. 

I intervened, therefore, and addressed them in a which placed theseriousness of my proposal beyond a doubt. 

“Men of the _Halbrane_, listen to me! Just as various States havedone for voyages of discovery in the Polar Regions, I offer a rewardto the crew of this schooner. Two thousand dollars shall be sharedamong you for every degree we make beyond the eighty-fourthparallel. ”

Nearly seventy dollars to each man; this was a strong temptation. 

I felt that I had hit the mark. 

“I will sign an agreement to that effect, ” I continued, “withCaptain Len Guy as your representative, and the sums gained shall behanded to you on your return, no matter under what conditions thatreturn be accomplished. ”

I waited for the effect of this promise, and, to tell the truth, Ihad not to wait long. 

“Hurrah!” cried the boatswain, acting as fugleman to hiscomrades, who almost unanimously added their cheers to his. Hearneoffered no farther opposition; it would always be in his power toput in his word when the stances should be more propitious. 

Thus the bargain was made, and, to gain my ends, I have made aheavier sacrifice. It is true we were within seven degrees of theSouth and, if the _Halbrane_ should indeed reach that spot, it wouldnever cost me more than fourteen thousand dollars. 

Early in the morning of the 27th of December the _Halbrane_ put out tosea, heading south-west. 

After the scene of the preceding evening Captain Len Guy had taken afew hours’ rest. I met him next day on deck while West was goingabout fore and aft, and he called us both to him. 

“Mr. Jeorling, ” he said, “it was with a terrible pang that Icame to the resolution to bring our schooner back to the north! Ifelt I had not done all I ought to do for our unhappyfellow-countrymen: but I knew that the majority of the crew would beagainst me if I insisted on going beyond Tsalal Island. ”

“That is true, captain; there was a beginning of indiscipline onboard, and perhaps it might have ended in a revolt. ”

“A revolt we should have speedily put down, ” said West, coolly, “were it only by knocking Hearne, who is always exciting themutinous men, on the head. ”

“And you would have done well, Jem, ” said the captain. “Only, justice being satisfied, what would have become of the agreementtogether, which we must have in order to do anything?”

“Of course, captain, it is better that things passed off withoutviolence! But for the future Hearne will have to look out forhimself. ”

“His companions, ” observed the captain, “are now greedy forthe prizes that have been promised them. The greed of gain will makethem more willing and persevering. The generosity of Mr. Jeorlinghas succeeded where our entreaties would undoubtedly have failed. Ithank him for it. ”

Captain Len Guy held out a hand to me, which I grasped cordially. 

After some general conversation relating to our purpose, theship’s course, and the proposed verification of the bearings ofthe group of islands on the west of Tsalal which is described byArthur Pym, the captain said, --

“As it is possible that the ravages of the earthquake did notextend to this group, and that it may still be inhabited, we must beon our guard in approaching the bearings. ”

“Which cannot bevery far off, ” I added. “And then, captain, who knows but that your brother and his sailors might have takenrefu ge on one of these islands!”

This was admissible, but not a consoling eventuality, for in thatcase the poor fellows would have fallen into the hands of thosesavages of whom they were rid while they remained at Tsalal. 

“Jem, ” resumed Captain Len Guy, “we are making good way, andno doubt land will be signalled in a few hours. Give orders for thewatch to be careful. ”

“It’s done, captain. ”

“There is a man in the crow’s-nest?”

“Dirk Peters himself, at his own request. ” “All right, Jem; wemay trust his vigilance. ”

“And also his eyes, ” I added, “for he is gifted with amazingsight. ”

For two hours of very quick sailing not the smallest indication ofthe group of eight islands was visible. 

“It is incomprehensible that we have not come in sight of them, ”said the captain. “I reckon that the _Halbrane_ has made sixty milessince this morning, and the islands in question are tolerably closetogether. ”

“Then, captain, we must conclude--and it is not unlikely--thatthe group to which Tsalal belonged has entirely disappeared in theearthquake. ”

“Land ahead!” cried Dirk Peters. 

We looked, but could discern nothing on the sea, nor was it until aquarter of an hour had elapsed that our glasses enabled us torecognize the tops of a few scattered islets shining in the obliquerays of the sun, two or three miles to the westward. 

What a change! How had it come about? Arthur Pym described spaciousislands, but only a small number of tiny islets, half a dozen atmost, protruded from the waters. 

At this moment the half-breed came sliding down from his lofty perchand jumped to the deck. 

“Well, Dirk Peters! Have you recognized the group?” asked thecaptain. 

“The group?” replied the half-breed, shaking his head. “No, Ihave only seen the tops of five or six islets. There is nothing butstone heaps there--not a single island!”

As the schooner approached we easily recognized these fragments ofthe group, which had been almost entirely destroyed on its westernside. The scattered remains formed dangerous reefs which mightseriously injure the keel or the sides of the _Halbrane_, and therewas no intention of risking the ship’s safety among them. Weaccordingly cast anchor at a safe distance, and a boat was loweredfor the reception of Captain Len Guy, the boatswain, Dirk Peters, Holt, two men and myself. The still, transparent water, as Peterssteered us skilfully between the projecting edges of the littlereefs, allowed us to see, not a bed of sand strewn with shells, butheaps which were overgrown by land vegetation, tufts plants notbelonging to the marine flora that floated the surface of the sea. Presently we landed on one of the larger islets which rose to aboutthirty feet above the sea. 

“Do the tides rise sometimes to that height?” I inquired of thecaptain. 

“Never, ” he replied, “and perhaps we shall discover someremains of the vegetable kingdom, of habitations, or of anencampment. ”

“The best thing we can do, ” said the boatswain, “is to followDirk Peters, who has already distanced us. The half-breed’s lynxeyes will see what we can’t. ”

Peters had indeed scaled the eminence in a moment, and we presentlyjoined him on the top. 

The islet was strewn with remains (probably of those domesticanimals mentioned in Arthur Pym’s journal), but these bonesdiffered from the bones on Tsalal Island by the fact that the heapsdated from a few months only. This then agreed with the recentperiod at which we placed the earthquake. Besides, plants and tuftsof flowers were growing here and there. 

“And these are this year’s, ” I cried, “no southern winterhas passed over them. ”

These facts having been ascertained, no doubt could remainrespecting the date of the cataclysm after the departure ofPatterson. The destruction of the population of Tsalal whose boneslay about the village was not attributable to that catastrophe. William Guy and the five sailors of the _Jane_ had been able to fly intime, since no bones that could be theirs had been found on theisland. 

Where had they taken refuge? This was the everpressing question. What answer were we to obtain? Must we conclude that having reachedone of these islets they had perished in the swallowing-up of thearchipelago? We debated this point, as may be supposed, at a lengthand with detail which I can only indicate here. Suffice it to saythat a decision was arrived at to the following effect. Our solechance of discovering the unfortunate castaways was to continue ourvoyage for two or three parallels farther; the goal was there, andwhich of us would not sacrifice even his life to attain it?

“God is guiding us, Mr. Jeorling, ” said Captain Len Guy. 

CHAPTER XVIII. A REVELATION. 

The following day, the 29th of December, at six in the morning, theschooner set sail with a north-east wind, and this time her coursewas due south. The two succeeding days passed wholly withoutincident; neither land nor any sign of land was observed. The men onthe Halbrahe took great hauls of fish, to their own satisfaction andours. It was New Year’s Day, 1840, four months and seventeen dayssince I had left the Kerguelens and two months and five days sincethe Halbrahe had sailed from the Falklands. The half-breed, betweenwhom and myself an odd kind of tacit understanding subsisted, approached the bench on which I was sitting--the captain was in hiscabin, and West was not in sight--with a plain intention ofconversing with me. The subject may easily be guessed. 

“Dirk Peters, ” said I, taking up the subject at once, “do youwish that we should talk of _him_?”

“Him!” he murmured. 

“You have remained faithful to his memory, Dirk Peters. ”

“Forget him, sir! Never!”

“He is always there--before you?”

“Always! So many dangers shared! That makes brothers! No, it makesa father and his son! Yes! And I have seen America again, butPym--poor Pym--he is still beyond there!”

“Dirk Peters, ” I asked, “have you any idea of the route whichyou and Arthur Pym followed in the boat after your departure fromTsalal Island?”

“None, sir! Poor Pym had no longer any instrument--youknow--sea machines--for looking at the sun. We could not know, except that for the eight days the current pushed us towards thesouth, and the wind also. A fine breeze and a fair sea, and ourshirts for a sail. ”

“Yes, white linen shirts, which frightened your prisoner NuNu--”

“Perhaps so--I did not notice. But if Pym has said so, Pym mustbe believed. ”

“And during those eight days you were able to supply yourselveswith food?”

“Yes, sir, and the days after--we and the savage. You know--thethree turtles that were in the boat. These animals contain a storeof fresh water--and their flesh is sweet, even raw. Oh, raw flesh, sir!”

He lowered his voice, and threw a furtive glance around him. Itwould be impossible to describe the frightful expression of thehalf-breed’s face as he thus recalled the terrible scenes of the_Grampus_. And it was not the expression of a cannibal of Australia orthe New Hebrides, but that of a man who is pervaded by aninsurmountable horror of himself. 

“Was it not on the 1st of March, Dirk Peters, ” I asked, “thatyou perceived for the first time the veil of grey vapour shot withluminous and moving rays?”

“I do not remember, sir, but if Pym says It was so, Pym must bebelieved. ”

“Did he never speak to you of fiery rays which fell from thesky?” I did not use the term “polar aurora, ” lest thehalf-breed should not understand it. 

“Never, sir, ” said Dirk Peters, after some reflection. “Didyou not remark that the colour of the sea changed, grew white likemilk, and that its surface became ruffled around your boat?”

“It may have been so, sir; I did not observe. The boat went on andon, and my head went with it. ”

“And then, the fine powder, as fine as ashes, that fell--”

“I don’t remember it. ”“Was it not snow?”

“Snow? Yes! No! The weather was warm. What did Pym say? Pym mustbe believed. ” He lowered his voice and continued: “But Pym willtell you all that, sir. He knows. I do not know. He saw, and youwill believe him. ”

“Yes, Dirk Peters, I shall believe him. ”

“We are to go in search of him, are we not?”

“I hope so. ”

“After we shall have found William Guy and the sailors of the_Jane_!”

“Yes, after. ”

“And even if we do not find them?”

“Yes, even in that case. I think I shall induce our captain. Ithink he will not refuse--”

“No, he will not refuse to bring help to a man--a man like himg”

“And yet, ” I said, “if William Guy and his people are living, can we admit that Arthur Pym--”

“Living? Yes! Living!” cried the half-breed. “By the greatspirit of my fathers, he is--he is waiting for me, my poor Pym! Howjoyful he will be when he clasps his old Dirk in his arms, andI--I, when I feel him, there, there. ”

And the huge chest of the man heaved like a stormy sea. Then he wentaway, leaving me inexpressibly affected by the revelation of thetenderness for his unfortunate companion that lay deep in the heartof this semi-savage. 

In the meantime I said but little to Captain Len Guy, whose wholeheart and soul were set on the rescue of brother, of the possibilityof our finding Arthur Gordon Pym. Time enough, if in the course ofthis strange enterprise of ours we succeeded in that object, to urgeupon him one still more visionary. 

At length, on the 7th of January--according to Dirk Peters, who hadfixed it only by the time that had expired--we arrived at theplace where Nu Nu the savage breathed his last, lying in the bottomof the boat. On that day an observation gave 86° 33’ for thelatitude, the longitude remaining the same between the and theforty-third meridian. Here it was, according the half-breed, thatthe two fugitives were parted after the collision between the boatand the floating mass of ice. But a question now arose. Since themass of ice carrying away Dirk Peters had drifted towards the north, was this because it was subjected to the action of a countercurrent?

Yes, that must have been so, for oar schooner had not felt theinfluence of the current which had guided her on leaving theFalklands, for fully four days. And yet, there was nothingsurprising in that, for everything is variable in the austral seas. Happily, the fresh breeze from the north-east continued to blow, andthe _Halbrane_ made progress toward higher waters, thirteen degrees inadvance upon Weddells ship and two degrees upon the fane. As for theland--islands or continent--which Captain Len Guy was seeking onthe surface of that vast ocean, it did not appear. I was well awarethat he was gradually losing confidence in our enterprise. 

As for me, I was possessed by the desire to rescue Arthur Pym aswell as the survivors of the _Jane_. And yet, how could he havesurvived! But then, the half-breed’s fixed idea! Supposing ourcaptain were to give the order to go back, what would Dirk Petersdo? Throw himself into the sea rather than return northwards? Thisit was which made me dread some act of violence on his part, when heheard the greater number of the sailors protesting against thisinsensate voyage, and talking of putting the ship about, especiallytowards Hearne, who was stealthily inciting his comrades of theFalklands to insubordination. 

It was absolutely necessary not to allow discipline to decline, ordiscouragement to grow among the crew; so that, on the 7th ofJanuary, Captain Len Guy at my request assembled the men andaddressed them in the following words:--

“Sailors of the _Halbrane_, since our departure from Tsalal Island, the schooner has gained two degrees southwards, and I now informyou, that, conformably with the engagement signed by Mr. Jeorling, four thousand dollars--that is two thousand dollars for eachdegree--are due to you, and will be paid at the end of thevoyage. ”

These words were greeted with some murmurs of satisfaction, but notwith cheers, except those of Hurliguerly the boatswain, and Endicottthe cook, which found no echo. 

On the 13th of January a conversation took place between theboatswain and myself of a nature to justify my anxiety concerningthe temper of our crew. 

The men were at breakfast, with the exception of Drap and Stern. Theschooner was cutting the water under a stiff breeze. I was walkingbetween the fore and main masts, watching the great flights of birdswheeling about the ship with deafening clangour, and the petrelsoccasionally perching on our yards. No effort was made to catch orshoot them; it would have been useless cruelty, since their oily andstringy flesh is not eatable. 

At this moment Hurliguerly approached me, looked attentively at thebirds, and said, --

“I remark one thing, Mr. Jeorling. ”

“What is it, boatswain?”

“That these birds do not fly so directly south as they did up tothe present. Some of them are setting north. ”

“I have noticed the same fact. ”

“And I add, Mr. Jeorling, that those who are below there will comeback without delay. ”

“And you conclude from this?”

“I conclude that they feel the approach of winter. ”

“Of winter?”

“Undoubtedly. ”

“No, no, boatswain; the temperature is so high that the birdscan’t want to get to less cold regions so prematurely. ”

“Oh! prematurely, Mr. Jeorling. ”

“Yes, boatswain; do we not know that navigators have always beenable to frequent the Antarctic waters until the month of March?”

“Not at such a latitude. Besides, there are precocious winters aswell as precocious summers. The fine season this year was full twomonths in advance, and it is to ba feared the bad season may comesooner than usual. ”

“That is very likely, ” I replied. “After all, it does notsignity to us, since our campaign will certainly be over in threeweeks. ”

“If some obstacle does not arise beforehand, Mr. Jeorling. ”

“And what obstacle?”

“For instance, a continent stretching to the south and barring ourway. ”

“A continent, Hurliguerly!”

“I should not be at all surprised. ”

“And, in fact, there would be nothing surprising in it. ”

“As for the lands seen by Dirk Peters, ” said the boatswain, “where the men of the _Jane_ might have landed on one or another ofthem, I don’t believe in them. ”

“Why?”

“Because William Guy, who can only have had a small craft at hisdisposal, could not have got so far into these seas. ”

“I do not feel quite so sure of that. Nevertheless, Mr. Jeorling--”

“What would there be so surprising in William Guy’s beingcarried to land somewhere by the action of the currents? He did notremain on board his boat for eight months, I suppose. His companionsand he may have been able to land on an island, or even on acontinent, and that is a sufficient motive for us to pursue oursearch. ”

“No doubt--but all are not of your opinion, ” repliedHurliguerly, shaking his head. 

“I know, ” said I, “and that is what makes me most anxious. Isthe ill-feeling increasing?”

“I fear so, Mr. Jeorling. The satisfaction of having gainedseveral hundreds of dollars is already lessened, and the prospect ofgaining a few more hundreds does not put a stop to disputes. And yetthe prize is tempting! From Tsalal Island to the pole, admittingthat we might get there, is six degrees. Now six degrees at twothousand dollars each makes twelve thousand dollars for thirty men, that is four hundred dollars a head A nice little sum to slip intoone’s pocket on the return of the _Halbrane_; but, notwithstanding, that fellow Hearne works so wickedly upon his comrades that Ibelieve they are ready to ‘bout ship in spite of anybody. ”

“I can believe that of the recruits, boatswain, but the oldcrew--”

“H--m! there are three or four of those who are beginning toreflect, and they are not easy in their minds about the prolongationof the voyage. ”

“I fancy Captain Len Guy and his lieutenant will how to getthemselves obeyed. ”

“We shall see, Mr. Jeorling. But may it not that our captainhimself will get disheartened; that the sense of his responsibilitywill prevail, and that he will renounce his enterprise?”

Yes! this was what I feared, and there was no remedy on that side. “As for my friend Endicott, Mr. Jeorling, I answer for him as formyself. We would go to the end of the world--if the world has anend--did the captain want to go there. True, we two, Dirk Petersand yourself, are but a few to be a law to the others. ”

“And what do you think of the half-breed?” I asked. 

“Well, our men appear to accuse him chiefly of the prolongation ofthe voyage. You see, Mr. Jeorling, though you have a good deal to dowith it, you pay, and pay well, while this crazy fellow, DirkPeters, persists in asserting that his poor Pym is stillliving--his poor Pym who was drowned, or frozen, orcrushed--killed, anyhow, one way or another, eleven years ago!”

So completely was this my own belief that I never discussed thesubject with the half-breed. 

“You see, Mr. Jeorling, ” resumed the boatswain, “at the firstsome curiosity was felt about Dirk Peters. Then, after he savedMartin Holt, it was interest. Certainly, he was no more talkativethan before, and the bear came no oftener out of his den! But now weknow what he is, and no one likes him the better for that. At allevents it was he who induced our captain, by talking of land to thesouth of Tsalal Island, to make this voyage, and it is owing to himthat he has reached the eighty-sixth degree of latitude. ”

“That is quite true, boatswain. ”

“And so, Mr. Jeorling, I am always afraid that one of these dayssomebody will do Peters an ill turn. ”

“Dirk Peters would defend himself, and I should pity the man wholaid a finger on him. ”

“Quite so. It would not be good for anybody to be in his hands, for they could bend iron! But then, all being against him, he wouldbe forced into the hold. ”

“Well, well, we have not yet come to that, I hope, and I count onyou, Hurliguerly, to prevent any against Dirk Peters. Reason withyour men. Make them understand that we have time to return to theFalklands before the end of the fine season. Their reproaches mustnot be allowed to provide the captain with an excuse for turningback before the object is attained. ”

“Count on me, Mr. Jeorling, I will serve you to the best of myability. ”

“You will not repent of doing so, Hurliguerly. Nothing is easierthan to add a round o to the four hundred dollars which each man isto have, if that man be something more than a sailor--even were hisfunctions simply those of boatswain on board the _Halbrane_. ”

Nothing important occurred on the 13th and 14th, but a fresh fall inthe temperature took place. Captain Len Guy called my attention tothis, pointing out the flocks of birds continuously flying north. 

While he was speaking to me I felt that his last hopes were fading. And who could wonder? Of the land indicated by the half-breednothing was seen, and we were already more than one hundred andeighty miles Tsalal Island. At every point of the compass was thesea, nothing but the vast sea with its desert horizon which thesun’s disk had been nearing since the 21st and would touch on the21st March, prior to during the six months of the austral night. Honestly, was it possible to admit that William Guy and his fivepanions could have accomplished such a distance on a craft, and wasthere one chance in a hundred that the could ever be recovered?

On the 15th of January an observation most carefully taken gave 43°13’ longitude and 88° 17’ latitude. The _Halbrane_ was less thantwo degrees from the pole. 

Captain Len Guy did not seek to conceal the result of thisobservation, and the sailors knew enough of nautical calculation tounderstand it. Besides, if the consequences had to be explained tothem, were not Holt and Hardy there to do this, and Hearne, toexaggerate them to the utmost?

During the afternoon I had indubitable proof that the sealing-masterhad been working on the minds of the crew. The men, emerging at thefoot of the mainmast, talked in whispers and cast evil glances atus. Two or three sailors made threatening gestures undisguisedly;then arose such angry mutterings that West could not to be deaf tothem. 

He strode forward and called out. “Silence, there! The first manwho speaks will have to reckon with me!”

Captain Len Guy was shut up in his cabin, but every moment Iexpected to see him come out, give one last long around the waste ofwaters, and then order the ship’s course to be reversed. Nevertheless, on the next day the schooner was sailing in the samedirection. Unfortunately--for the circumstance had some gravity--amist was beginning to come down on us. I could not keep still, I Myapprehensions were redoubled. It was that West was only awaiting theorder to change the helm. What mortal anguish soever the captain’smust be, I understood too well that he would not give that orderwithout hesitation. 

For several days past I had not seen the half-breed, or, least, Ihad not exchanged a word with him. He was boycotted by the wholecrew, with the exception of the boatswain, who was careful toaddress him, although rarely got a word in return. Dirk Peters tooknot faintest notice of this state of things. He remained completelyabsorbed in his own thoughts, yet, had he heard West give the wordto steer north, I know not acts of violence he might have beendriven. He seemed to avoid me; was this from a desire not tocompromise me?

On the 17th, in the afternoon, however, Dirk Peters manifested anintention of speaking to me, and never, never, could I have imaginedwhat I was to learn in that interview. 

It was about half-past two, and, not feeling well, I gone to mycabin, where the side window was open, that at the back was closed. I heard a knock at the dom and asked who was there. 

“Dirk Peters, ” was the reply. 

“You want to speak to me?”

“Yes. ”

“I am coming out. ”

“If you please--I should prefer--may I come into your cabin?”

“Come in. ”

He entered, and shut the door behind him?

Without rising I signed to him to seat himself arm-chair, but heremained standing. 

“What do you want of me, Dirk Peters?” I asked at length, as heseemed unable to make up his mind to speak. 

“I want to tell you something--because it seems well that youshould know it, and you only. In the crew--they must never knowit. ”

“If it is a grave matter, and you fear any indiscretion, DirkPeters, why do you speak to me?”

“If!--I must! Ah, yes! I must! It is impossible to keep it there!It weighs on me like a stone. ”

And Dirk Peters struck his breast violently. 

Then he resumed:

“Yes! I am always afraid it may escape me during my sleep, andthat someone will hear it, for I dream of it, and in dreaming--”

“You dream, ” I replied, “and of what?”

“Of him, of him. Therefore it is that I sleep in corners, allalone, for fear that his true name should be discovered. ”

Then it struck me that the half-breed was perhaps about to respondto an inquiry which I had not yet made--why he had gone to live atthe Falklands under the name of Hunt after leaving Illinois?

I put the question to him, and he replied, --

“It is not that; no, it is not that I wish--”

“I insist, Dirk Peters, and I desire to know in the first placefor what reason you did not remain in America, for what reason youchose the Falklands--”

“For what reason, sir? Because I wanted to get near Pym, my poorPym--beeause I hoped to find an opportunity at the Falklands ofembarking on a whaling ship bound for the southern sea. ”

“But that name of Hunt?”

“I would not bear my own name any longer--on account of theaffair of the _Grampus_. ”

The half-breed was alluding to the scene of the “short straw”(or lot-drawing) on board the American brig, when it was decidedbetween Augustus Barnard, Arthur Pym, Dirk Peters, and Parker, thesailor, that one of the four should be sacrificed--as food for thethree others. I remembered the obstinate resistance of Arthur Pym, and how it was impossible for him to refuse to take his the tragedyabout to be performed--he says this himself--and the horrible actwhose remembrance must poison the existence of all those who hadsurvived it. 

Oh, that lot-drawing! The “short straws” were little splintersof wood of uneven length which Arthur held in his hand. The shortestwas to designate him who should be immolated. And he speaks of thesort of involuntary fierce desire to deceive his corn that hefelt--”to cheat” is the word he uses--but he did not“cheat, ” and he asks pardon for having had the idea! Let us tryto put ourselves in his place!

He made up his mind, and held out his hand, closed on the fourslips. Dirk Peters drew the first. Fate favoured him. He had nothingmore to fear. Arthur Pym calculated that one more chance was againsthim. Augustus Barnard drew in his turn. Saved, too, he! And nowArthur Pym reckoned up the exact chances Parker and himself. At thatmoment all the ferocity the tiger entered into his soul. Heconceived an intense and devilish hatred of his poor comrade, hisfellow-man. 

Five minutes elapsed before Parker dared to draw. At length ArthurPym, standing with closed eyes, not knowing whether the lot was foror against him, felt a hand seize his own. It was the hand of DirkPeters. Arthur Pym had escaped death. And then the half-breed uponParker and stabbed him in the back. The frightful repastfollowed--immediately--and words are not sufficient to convey tothe mind the horror of the reality. 

Yes! I knew that hideous story, not a fable, as I had long believed. This was what had happened on board the _Grampus_, on the 16th ofJuly, 1827, and vainly did I try to understand Dirk Peters’ reasonfor recalling it to my recollection. 

“Well, Dirk Peters, ” I said, “I will ask you, since you wereanxious to hide your name, what it was that induced you to revealit, when the _Halbrane_ was moored off Tsalal Island; why you did notkeep to the name of Hunt?”

“Sir--understand me--there was hesitation about goingfarther--they wanted to turn back. This was decided, and then Ithought that by telling who I was--Dirk Peters--of the_Grampus_--poor Pym’s companion--I should be heard; they wouldbelieye with me that he was still living, they would go in search ofhim! And yet, it was a serious thing to do--to acknowledge that Iwas Dirk Peters, he who had killed Parker! But hunger, devouringhunger!”

“Come, come, Dirk Peters, ” said I, “you exaggerate! If the lothad fallen to you, you would have incurred the fate of Parker. Youcannot be charged with a crime. ”

“Sir, would Parker’s family speak of it as you do?”

“His family! Had he then relations?”

“Yes--and that is why Pym changed his name in the narrative. Parker’s name was not Parker--it was--”

“Arthur Pym was right, ” I said, interrupting him quickly, “andas for me, I do not wish to know Parker’s real name. Keep thissecret. ”

“No, I will tell it to you. It weighs too heavily on me, and Ishall be relieved, perhaps, when I have told you, Mr. Jeorling. ”

“No, Dirk Peters, no!”

“His name was Holt--Ned Holt. ”

“Holt!” I exclaimed, “the same name as oursailing-master’s. ”

“Who is his own brother, sir. ”

“Martin Holt?”

“Yes--understand me--his brother. ”

“But he believes that Ned Holt perished in the wreck of the_Grampus_ with the rest. ”

“It was not so, and if he learned that I--”

Just at that instant a violent shock flung me out of my bunk. 

The schooner had made such a lurch to the port side that she wasnear foundering. 

I heard an angry voice cry out:

“What dog is that at the helm?”

It was the voice of West, and the person he was Hearne. 

I rushed out of my cabin. 

“Have you let the wheel go?” repeated West, who had seizedHearne by the collar of his jersey. 

“Lieutenant--I don’t know--”

“Yes, I tell you, you have let it go. A little more and theschooner would have capsized under full sail. ”

“Gratian, ” cried West, calling one of the sailors, “take thehelm; and you, Hearne, go down into the hold. ”

On a sudden the cry of “Land!” resounded, and every eye wasturned southwards. 

CHAPTER XIX. LAND?

“Land” is the only word to be found at the beginning of thenineteenth chapter of Edgar Poe’s book. I thought it would be agood idea--placing after it a note of interrogation--to put it asa heading to this portion of our narrative. 

Did that word, dropped from our fore-masthead, indicate an island ora continent? And, whether a continent or an island, did not adisappointment await us? Could they be there whom we had come toseek? And Arthur Pym, who was dead, unquestionably dead, in spite ofDirk Peters’ assertions, had he ever set foot on this land?

When the welcome word resounded on board the _Jane_ on the 17thJanuary, 1828--(a day full of incidents according to Arthur Pym’sdiary)--it was succeeded by “Land on the starboard bow!” Suchmight have been the signal from the masthead of the _Halbrane_. 

The outlines of land lightly drawn above the sky line were visibleon this side. 

The land announced to the sailors of the fane was the wild andbarren Bennet Islet. Less than one degree south of it lay TsalalIsland, then fertile, habitable and inhabited, and on which CaptainLen Guy had hoped to meet his fellow-countrymen. But what would thisunknown island, five degrees farther off in the depths of thesouthern sea, be for our schooner? Was it the goal so ardentlydesired and so earnestly sought for? Were the two brothers, Williamand Len Guy, to meet at this place Would the _Halbrane_ come there tothe end of a voyage whose success would be definitely secured by therestoration of the survivors of the fane to their country?

I repeat that I was just like the half-breed. Our aim was not merelyto discover the survivors, nor was success in this matter the onlysuccess we looked for. However, since land was before our eyes, wemust get nearer to it first. 

That cry of ”Land” caused an immediate diversion of ourthoughts. I no longer dwelt upon the secret Dirk Peters had justtold me--and perhaps the half-breed forgot it also, for he rushedto the bow and fixed his eyes immovably on the horizon. As for West, whom nothing could divert from his duty, he repeated his commands. Gratian came to take the helm, and Hearne was shut up in the hold. 

On the whole this was a just punishment, and none of the old crewprotested against it, for Hearne’s inattention awkwardness hadreally endangered the schooner, for a short time only. 

Five or six of the Falklands sailors did, however, murmur a little. 

A sign from the mate silenced them, and they returned at once totheir posts. 

Needless to say, Captain Len Guy, upon hearing the cry of thelook-out man, had tumbled up from his cabin: and eagerly examinedthis land at ten or twelve miles distance. 

As I have said, I was no longer thinking about the secret DirkPeters had confided to me. Besides, so long as the secret remainedbetween us two--and neither would betray it--there would benothing to fear. But if ever an unlucky accident were to reveal toMartin Holt that his brother’s name had been changed to Parker, that the unfortunate man had not perished in the shipwreck of the_Grampus_, but had been sacrificed to save his companions fromperishing of hunger; that Dirk Peters, to whom Martin Holt himselfowed his life, had killed him with his own hand, what might nothappen then? This was the reason why the half-breed shrank from anyexpression of thanks from Martin Holt--why he avoided Martin Holt, the victim’s brother. 

The boatswain had just struck six bells. The schooner was sailingwith the caution demanded by navigation in unknown seas. There mightbe shoals or reefs barely hidden under the surface on which shemight run aground or be wrecked. As things stood with the _Halbrane_, and even admitting that she could be floated again, an accidentwould have rendered her return impossible before the winter set in. We had urgent need that every chance should be in our favour and notone against us. 

West had given orders to shorten sail. When the boatswain had furledthe top-gallant-sail, the top-sail and royal, the _Halbrane_ remainedunder her mainsail, her fore-sail and her jib: sufficient canvas tocover the distance that separated her from land in a few hours. Captain Len Guy immediately heaved the lead, which showed a depth oftwenty fathoms. Several other soundings showed that the coast, whichwas very steep, was probably prolonged like a wall under the water. Nevertheless, as the bottom might happen to rise sharply instead offollowing the slope of the coast, we did not venture to proceed outthe sounding line in hand. 

The weather was still beautiful, although the sky was overcast by amist from south-east to souih-west. Owing to this there was somedifficulty in identifying the vague outlines which stood out likefloating vapour in the sky, disappearing and then reappearingbetween the breaks of the mist. 

However, we all agreed to regard this land as from twenty-five tothirty fathoms in height, at least at its highest part. 

No! we would not admit that we were the victims of a delusion, andyet our uneasy minds feared that it might so!

Is it not natural, after all, for the heart to be assailed by athousand apprehensions as we near the end of any enterprise? At thisthought my mind became confused and dreamy. The _Halbrane_ seemed tobe reduced to the dimensions of a small boat lost in this boundlessspace--the contrary of that limitless sea of which Edgar Poespeaks, where, like a living body, the ship grows larger. 

When we have charts, or even sailing directions instruct usconcerning the hydrography of the coasts, the nature of thelandfalls, the bays and the creeks, we may sail along boldly. Inevery other region, the master of a ship must not defer the order tocast anchor near the shore until the morrow. But, where we were, what an amount of prudence was necessary! And yet, no manifestobstacle was before us. Moreover, we had no cause to fear that thelight would fail us during the sunny the night. At this season thesun did not set so soon under the western horizon, and its raysbathed the vast Antarctic zone in unabated light. 

From that day forward the ship’s log recorded that the temperaturefell continuously. The thermometer in the air and in the shade didnot mark more than 32° (0° C. ), and when plunged into water itonly indicated 26° (3° 33’ C. Below 0°). What could be thecause of this fall, since we were at the height of the southernsummer? The crew were obliged to resume their woollen clothing, which they had left off a month previously. The schooner, however, was sailing before the wind, and these first cold blasts were lesskeenly felt. Yet we recognized the necessity of reaching our goal assoon as possible. To linger in this region or to expose ourselves tothe danger of wintering out would be to tempt Providence!

Captain Len Guy tested the direction of the current by heavy leadlines, and discovered that it was beginning to deviate from itsformer course. 

“Whether it is a continent, ” said he, “that lies before us, orwhether it is an island, we have at present no means of determining. If it be a continent, we must conclude that the current has an issuetowards the south-east. ”

“And it is quite possible, ” I replied, “that the solid part ofthe Antarctic region may be reduced to a mere polar mound. In anycase, it is well to note any of those observations which are likelyto be accurate. ”

“That is just what I am doing, Mr. Jeorling, and we shall bringback a mass of information about this portion of the southern seawhich will prove useful to navigators. ”

“If ever any venture to come so far south, captain! We havepenetrated so far, thanks to the help of particular circumstances, the earliness of the summer season, an abnormal temperature and arapid thaw. Such conditions may only occur once in twenty or fiftyyears!”

“Wherefore, Mr. Jeorling, I thank Providence for this, and hoperevives in me to some extent. As the weather has been constantlyfine, what is there to make it impossible for my brother and myfellow-countrymen to have landed on this coast, whither the wind andthe tide bore them? What our schooner has done, their boat may havedone! They surely did not start on a voyage which might prolonged toan indefinite time without a proper supply of provisions! Why shouldthey not have found the resources as those afforded to them by theisland of Tsalal during many long years? They had ammunition andarms elsewhere. Fish abound in these waters, water-fowl also. Ohyes! my heart is full of hope, and I wish I were a few hoursolder!”

Without being quite so sanguine as Len Guy, I was glad to see he hadregained his hopeful mood. Perhaps, if his investigations weresuccessful, I might be able to have them continued in Arthur Pym’sinterest--even into the heart of this strange land which we wereapproaching. 

The _Halbrane_ was going along slowly on these clear waters, whichswarmed with fish belonging to the same species as we had alreadymet. The sea-birds were more numerous, and were evidently notfrightened; for they kept flying round the mast, or perching in theyards. Several whitish ropes about five or six feet long werebrought on board. They were chaplets formed of millions ofshell-fish. 

Whales, spouting jets of feathery water from their blow-holes, appeared at a distance, and I remarked that all them took asoutherly direction. There was therefore reason to believe that thesea extended far and wide in that direction. 

The schooner covered two or three miles of her course without anyincrease of speed. This coast evidently Stretched from north-west tosouth-east. Nevertheless, the telescopes revealed no distinctivefeatures--even after three hours’ navigation. 

The crew, gathered together on the forecastle, were looking onwithout revealing their impressions. West, after going aloft to thefore-cross-trees, where he had remained ten minutes, had reportednothing precise. Stationed at the port side, leaning my elbows onthe bulwarks, I closely watched the sky line, broken only towardsthe east. 

At this moment the boatswain rejoined me, and without preface said:

“Will you allow me to give you my opinion, Mr. Jeorling?”

“Give it, boatswain, ” I replied, “at the risk of my notadopting it if I don’t agree with it. ”

“It is correct, and according as we get nearer one must really beblind not to adopt it!”

“And what idea have you got?”

“That it is not land which lies before us, Mr. Jeorling!”

“What is it you are saying?”

“Look attentively, putting one finger before your eyes--lookthere--out a--starboard. ”

I did as Hurliguerly directed. 

“Do you see?” he began again. “May I lose my liking for mygrog if these heights do not change place, not with regard to theschooner, but with regard to themselves!”

“And what do you conclude from this?”

“That they are moving icebergs. ”

“Icebergs?”

“Sure enough, Mr. Jeorling. ”

Was not the boatswain mistaken? Were we in for a disappointment?Were there only drifting ice-mountains in the distance instead of ashore?

Presently, there was no doubt on the subject; for some time past thecrew had no longer believed existence of land in that direction. 

Ten minutes afterwards, the man in the crow’s-nest announced thatseveral icebergs were coming north-west, in an oblique direction, into the course of the _Halbrane_. 

This news produced a great sensation on board. Our last hope wassuddenly extinguished. And what a blow to Captain Len Guy! We shouldhave to seek land of the austral zone under higher latitudes withoutbeing sure of ever coming across it!

And then the cry, “Back ship! back ship!” sounded almostunanimously on board the _Halbrane_. 

Yes, indeed, the recruits from the Falklands demanding that weshould turn back, although Hearne was not there to fan the flame ofinsubordination, and I must acknowledge that the greater part of theold tars seemed to agree with them. 

West awaited his chief’s orders, not daring to impose silence. 

Gratian was at the helm, ready to give a turn to wheel, whilst hiscomrades with their hands on the cleats were preparing to ease offthe sheets. 

Dirk Peters remained immovable, leaning against the fore-mast, hishead down, his body bent, and his mouth set firm. Not a word passedhis lips. 

But now he turned towards me, and what a look of mingled wrath andentreaty he gave me!

I don’t know what irresistible motive induced me to interferepersonally, and once again to protest! A final argument had justcrossed my mind--an argument whose weight could not be disputed. 

So I began to speak, and I did so with such conviction that nonetried to interrupt me. 

The substance of what I said was as follows:--

“No! all hope must not be abandoned. Land cannot be far off. Theicebergs which are formed in the open sea by the accumulation of iceare not before us. These icebergs must have broken off from thesolid base of a continent or an island. Now, since the thaw beginsat this season of the year, the drift will last for only a shorttime. Behind them we must meet the coast on which they were formed. In another twenty-four hours, or forty-eight at the most, if theland does not appear, Captain Len Guy will steer to the north again!”

Had I convinced the crew, or ought I to take advantage of Hearne’sabsence and of the fact that he could not communicate with them tomake them understand that they were being deccived, and to repeat tothem that it would endanger the schooner if our course were now tobe reversed. 

The boatswain came to my help, and in a good-humoured voiceexclaimed, --

“Very well reasoned, and for my part I accept Mr. Jeorling’sopinion. Assuredly, land is near! If we seek it beyond thoseicebergs, we shall discover it without much hard work, or greatdanger! What is one degree farther south, when it is a question ofputting a hundred additional dollars into one’s pocket? And let usnot forget that if they are acceptable when they go in, they arenone the less so when they come out!”

Upon this, Endicott, the cook, came to the aid of his friend theboatswain. 

“Yes, very good things indeed are dollars!” cried he, showingtwo rows of shining white teeth. 

Did the crew intend to yield to Hurliguerly’s argument, or wouldthey try to resist if the _Halbrane_ went on in the direction of theicebergs?

Captain Len Guy took up his telescope again, and turned it uponthese moving masses; he observed them with much attention, and criedout in a loud voice, --

“Steer south-sou’-west!”

West gave orders to execute the manoeuvres. The sailors hesitated aninstant. Then, recalled to obedience, they began to brace the yardsand slack the sheets, and the schooner increased her speed. 

When the operation was over, I went up to Hurliguerly, and drawinghim aside, I said, --

“Thank you, boatswain. ”

“Ah, Mr. Jeorling, ” he replied, shaking his head, “it is allvery fine for this time, but you must not do it again! Everyonewould turn against me, even Endicott, perhaps. ”

“I have urged nothing which is not at least probable, ” Ianswered sharply. 

“I don’t deny that fact, Mr. Jeorling. ”

“Yes, Hurliguerly, yes--I believe what I have said, and I have nodoubt but that we shall really see the land beyond the icebergs. ”

“Just possible, Mr. Jeoding, quite possible. But it must appearbefore two days, or, on the word of a boatswain, nothing can preventus from putting about!”

During the next twenty-four hours the _Halbrane_ took asouth-south-westerlycourse. Nevertheless, her direction must havebeen frequently changed and her speed decreased in avoiding the ice. The navigation became very difficult so soon as the schooner headedtowards the line of the bergs, which it had to cut obliquely. However, there were none of the packs which blocked up all access tothe iceberg on the 67th parallel. The enormous heaps were meltingaway with majestic slowness. The ice-blocks appeared “quite new”(to employ a perfectly accurate expression), and perhaps they hadonly been formed some days. However, with a height of one hundredand fifty feet, their bulk must have been calculated by millions oftons. West was watching closely in order to avoid collisions, anddid not leave the deck even for an instant. 

Until now, Captain Len Guy had always been able to rely upon theindications of the compass. The magnetic pole, still hundreds ofmiles off, had no influence on the compass, its direction bcingeast. The needle remained steady, and might be trusted. 

So, in spite of my conviction, founded, however, on very seriousarguments, there was no sign of land, and I was wondering whether itwould not be better to steer more to the west, at the risk ofremoving the _Halbrane_ from that extreme point where the meridians ofthe globe cross each other. 

Thus, as the hours went by--and I was only allowed forty-eight--itwas only too plain that lack of courage prevailed, and that everyonewas inclined to be insubordinate. 

After another day and a half, I could no longer contend with thegeneral discontent. The schooner must ultimately retrace her coursetowards the north. 

The crew were working in silence, whilst West was giving sharp shortorders for manoeuvring through the channels, sometimes luffing inorder to avoid a collision, now bearing away almost square beforethe wind. Nevertheless, in spite of a close watch, in spite of theskill of the sailors, in spite of the prompt execution of themanoeuvres, dangerous friction against the hull, which left longtraces of the ridge of the icebergs, occurred. And, in truth, thebravest could not repress a feeling of terror when thinking that theplanking might have given way and the sea have invaded us. 

The base of these floating ice-mountains was very steep, so that itwould have been impossible for us to land upon one. Moreover, we sawno seals--these were usually very numerous where the ice-fieldsabounded--nor even a flock of the screeching penguins which, onother occasions, the _Halbrane_ sent diving by myriads as she passedthrough them; the birds themselves seemed rarer and wilder. Dread, from which none of us could escape, seemed to come upon us fromthese desolate and deserted regions. How could we still entertain ahope that the survivors of the _Jane_ had found shelter, and obtainedmeans of existence in those awful solitudes?

And if the Halbrahe were also shipwrecked, would there remain anyevidence of her fate?

Since the previous day, from the moment our southern course had beenabandoned, to cut the line of the icebergs, a change had taken placein the demeanour of the half-breed. Nearly always crouched down atthe foot of the fore-mast, looking afar into the boundless space, heonly got up in order to lend a hand to some manoeuvre, and withoutany of his former vigilance or zeal. Not that he had ceased tobelieve that his comrade of the _Jane_ was still living--that thoughtnever even came into his mind! But he felt by instinct that thetraces of poor Pym were not to be recovered by following this course. 

“Sir, ” he would have said to me, “this is not the way! No, this is not the way!” And how could I have answered him?

Towards seven o’clock in the evening a rather thick mist arose;this would tend to make the navigation of the schooner difficult anddangerous. 

The day, with its emotions of anxiety and alternatives, had worn meout. So I returned to my cabin, where I threw myself on my bunk inmy clothes. 

But sleep did not come to me, owing to my besetting thoughts. Iwillingly admit that the constant reading of Edgar Poe’s works, and reading them in this place in which his heroes delighted, hadexercised an influence on me which I did not fully recognize. 

To-morrow, the forty-eight hours would be up, the last concessionwhich the crew had made to my entreaties. 

“Things are not going as you wish?” the boatswain said to mejust as I was leaving the deck. 

No, certainly not, since land was not to be seen behind the fleet oficebergs. If no sign of a coast appeared between these movingmasses, Captain Len Guy would steer north to-morrow. 

Ah! were I only master of the schooner! If I could have bought iteven at the price of all my fortune, if these men had been my slavesto drive by the lash, the _Halbrane_ should never have given up thisvoyage, even if it led her so far as the point above which flamesthe Southern Cross. 

My mind was quite upset, and teemed with a thousand thoughts, athousand regrets, a thousand desires! I wanted to get up, but aheavy hand held me down in my bunk! And I longed to leave this cabinwhere I was struggling against nightmare in my half-sleep, to launchone of the boats of the _Halbrane_, to jump into it with Dirk Peters, who would not hesitate about following me, and so abandon both of usto the current running south. 

And lo! I was doing this in a dream. It is to-morrow! Captain LenGuy has given orders to reverse our course, after a last glance atthe horizon. One of the boats is in tow. I warn the half-breed. Wecreep along without being seen. We cut the painter. Whilst theschooner sails on ahead, we stay astern and the current carries usoff. 

Thus we drift on the sea without hindrance! At length our boatstops. Land is there. I see a sort of sphinx surmounting thesouthern peak--the sea-sphinx. I go to him. I question him. Hediscloses the secrets of these mysterious regions to me. And then, the phenomena whose reality Arthur Pym asserted appear around themythic monster. The curtain of flickering vapours, striped withluminous rays, is rent asunder. And it is not a face of superhumangrandeur which arises before my astonished eyes: it is Arthur Pym, fierce guardian of the south pole, flaunting the ensign of theUnited States in those high latitudes!

Was this dream suddenly interrupted, or was it changed by a freak ofmy brain? I cannot tell, but I felt as though I had been suddenlyawakened. It seemed as though a change had taken place in the motionof the schooner, which was sliding along on the surface of the quietsea, with a slight list to starboard. And yet, there was neitherrolling nor pitching. Yes, I felt myself carried off as though mybunk were the car of an air-balloon. I was not mistaken, and I hadfallen from dreamland into reality. 

Crash succeeded crash overhead. I could not account for them. Insidemy cabin the partitions deviated from the vertical in such a way asto make one believe that the _Halbrane_ had fallen over on her beamends. Almost immediately, I was thrown out of my bunk and barelyescaped splitting my skull against the corner of the table. However, I got up again, and, clinging on to the edge of the door frame, Ipropped myself against the door. 

At this instant the bulwarks began to crack and the port side of theship was torn open. 

Could there have been a collision between the schooner and one ofthose gigantic floating masses which West was unable to avoid in themist?

Suddenly loud shouts came from the after-deck, and then screams ofterror, in which the maddened voices of the crew joined. 

At length there came a final crash, and the _Halbrane_ remainedmotionless. 

I had to crawl along the floor to reach the door and gain the deck. Captain Len Guy having already left his cabin, dragged himself onhis knees, so great was the list to port, and caught on as best hecould. 

In the fore part of the ship, between the forecastle and thefore-mast, many heads appeared. 

Dirk Peters, Hardy, Martin Holt and Endicott, the latter with hisblack face quite vacant, were clinging to the starboard shrouds. 

A man came creeping up to me, because the slope of the deckprevented him from holding himself upright: it was Hurliguerly, working himself along with his hands like a top-man on a yard. 

Stretched out at full length, my feet propped up against the jamb ofthe door, I held out my hand to the boatswain, and helped him, notwithout difficulty, to hoist himself up near me. 

“What is wrong?” I asked. “A stranding, Mr. Jeorling. ”

“We are ashore!”

“A shore presupposes land, ” replied the boatswain ironically, “and so far as land goes there was never any except in that rascalDirk Peters’ imagination. ”

“But tell me--what has happened?”

“We came upon an iceberg in the middle of the fog, and were unableto keep clear of it. ”

“An iceberg, boatswain?”

“Yes, an iceberg, which has chosen just now to turn head overheels. In turning, it struck the _Halbrane_ and carried it off just asa battledore catches a shuttlecock, and now here we are, stranded atcertainly one hundred feet above the level of the Antarctic Sea. ”

Could one have imagined a more terrible conclusion to theadventurous voyage of the _Halbrane_?

In the middle of these remote regions our only means of transporthad just been snatched from its natural element, and carried off bythe turn of an iceberg to a height of more than one hundred feet!What a conclusion! To be swallowed up in a polar tempest, to bedestroyed in a fight with savages, to be crushed in the ice, suchare the dangers to which any ship engaged in the polar seas isexposed! But to think that the _Halbrane_ had been lifted by afloating mountain just as that mountain was turning over, wasstranded and almost at its summit--no! such a thing seemed quiteimpossible. 

I did not know whether we could succeed in letting down the schoonerfrom this height with the means we had at our disposal. But I didknow that Captain Len Guy, the mate and the older members of thecrew, when they had recovered from their first fright, would notgive up in despair, no matter how terrible the situation might be;of that I had no doubt whatsoever! They would all look to thegeneral safety; as for the measures to be taken, no one yet knewanything. A foggy veil, a sort of greyish mist still hung over theiceberg. Nothing could be seen of its enormous mass except thenarrow craggy cleft in which the schooner was wedged, nor even whatplace it occupied in the middle of the ice-fleet drifting towardsthe south-east. 

Common prudence demanded that we should quit the _Halbrane_, whichmight slide down at a sharp shake ot the iceberg. Were we evencertain that the latter had regained its position on the surface ofthe sea? Was her stability secure? Should we not be on the look-outfor a fresh upheaval? And if the schooner were to fall into theabyss, which of us could extricate himself safe and sound from sucha fall, and then from the final plunge into the depths of the ocean?

In a few minutes the crew had abandoned the _Halbrane_. Each mansought for refuge on the ice-slopes, awaiting the time when theiceberg should be freed from mist. The oblique rays from the sun didnot succeed in piercing it, and the red disk could hardly beperceived through the opaque mass. 

However, we could distinguish each other at about twelve feet apart. As for the _Halbrane_, she looked like a confused blackish massstanding out sharply against the whiteness of the ice. 

We had now to ascertain whether any of those who were on the deck atthe time of the catastrophe had been thrown over the bulwarks andprecipitated, into the sea?

By Captain Len Guy’s orders all the sailors then present joinedthe group in which I stood with the mate, the boatswain, Hardy andMartin Holt. 

So far, this catastrophe had cost us five men--these were the firstsince our departure from Kerguelen, but were they to be the last?

There was no doubt that these unfortunate fellows had perished, because we called them in vain, and in vain we sought for them, whenthe fog abated, along the sides of the iceberg, at every place wherethey might have been able to catch on to a projection. 

When the disappearance of the five men had been ascertained, we fellinto despair. Then we felt more keenly than before the dangers whichthreaten every expedition to the Antarctic zone. 

“What about Hearne?” said a voice. 

Martin Holt pronounced the name at a moment when there was generalsilence. Had the sealing-master been crushed to death in the narrowpart of the hold where he was shut up?

West rushed towards the schooner, hoisted himself on board by meansof a rope hanging over the bows, and gained the hatch which givesaccess to that part of the hold. 

We waited silent and motionless to learn the fate of Hearne, although the evil spirit of the crew was but little worthy of ourpity. 

And yet, how many of us were then thinking that if we had heeded hisadvice, and if the schooner had taken the northern course, a wholecrew would not have been reduced to take refuge on a driftingice-mountain! I scarcely dared to calculate my own share of the vastresponsibility, I who had so vehemently insisted on the prolongationof the voyage. 

At length the mate reappeared on deck and Hearne followed him! By amiracle, neither the bulkheads, nor the ribs, nor the planking hadyielded at the place where the sealing-master was confined. 

Hearne rejoined his comrades without opening his lips, and we had nofurther trouble about him. 

Towards six o’clock in the morning the fog cleared off, owing to amarked fall in the temperature. We had no longer to do withcompletely frozen vapour, but had to deal with the phenomenon calledfrost-rime, which often occurs in these high latitudes. Captain LenGuy recognized it by the quantity of prismatic threads, the pointfollowing the wind which roughened the light ice-crust deposited onthe sides ot the iceberg. Navigators know better than to confoundthis frost-rime with the hoar frost of the temperate zones, whichonly freezes when it has been deposited on the surface of the soil. 

We were now enabled to estimate the size of the solid mass on whichwe clustered like flies on a sugar-loaf, and the schooner, seen frombelow, looked no bigger than the yawl of a trading vessel. 

This iceberg of between three and four hundred fathoms incircumference measured from 130 to 140 feet high. According to allcalculations, therefore, its depth would be four or five timesgreater, and it would consequently weigh millions of tons. 

This is what had happened:

The iceberg, having been melted away at its base by contact withwarmer waters, had risen little by little; its centre of gravity hadbecome displaced, and its equilibrium could only be re-establishedby a sudden capsize, which had lifted up the part that had beenunderneath above the sea-level. The _Halbrane_, caught in thismovement, was hoisted as by an enormous lever. Numbers of icebergscapsize thus on the polar seas, and form one of the greatest dangersto which approaching vessels are exposed. 

Our schooner was caught in a hollow on the west side of the iceberg. She listed to starboard with her stern raised and her bow lowered. We could not help thinking that the slightest shake would cause herto slide along the slope of the iceberg into the sea. The collisionhad been so violent as to stave in some of the planks of her hull. After the first collision, the galley situated before the fore-masthad broken its fastenings. The door between Captain Len Guy’s andthe mate’s cabins was torn away from the hinges. The topmast andthe topgallant-mast had come down after the back-stays parted, andfresh fractures could plainly be seen as high as the cap of themasthead. 

Fragments of all kinds, yards, spars, a part of the sails, breakers, cases, hen-coops, were probably floating at the foot of the mass anddrifting with it. 

The most alarming part of our situation was the fact that of the twoboats belonging to the _Halbrane_, one had been stove in when wegrounded, and the other, the larger of the two, was still hanging onby its tackles to the starboard davits. Before anything else wasdone this boat had to be put in a safe place, because it might proveour only means of escape. 

As a result of the first examination, we found that the lower mastshad remained in their places, and might be of use if ever wesucceeded in releasing the schooner. But how were we to release herfrom her bed in the ice and restore her to her natural element?

When I found myself with Captain Len Guy, the mate, and theboatswain, I questioned them on this subject. 

“I agree with you, ” replied West, “that the operation involvesgreat risks, but since it is indispensable, we will accomplish it. Ithink it will be necessary to dig out a sort of slide down to thebase of the iceberg. ”

“And without the delay of a single day, ” added Captain Len Guy. 

“Do you hear, boatswain?” said Jem West. 

“Work begins to-day. ”

“I hear, and everyone will set himself to the task, ” repliedHurliguerly. “If you allow me, I shall just make one observation, captain. ”

“What is it?”

“Before beginning the work, let us examine the hull and see whatthe damage is, and whether it can be repaired. For what use would itbe to launch a ship stripped of her planks, which would go to thebottom at once?”

We complied with the boatswain’s just demand. 

The fog having cleared off, a bright sun then illumined the easternside of the iceberg, whence the sea was visible round a large partof the horizon. Here the sides of the iceberg showed ruggedprojections, ledges, shoulders, and even flat instead of smoothsurfaces, giving no foothold. However, caution would be necessary inorder to avoid the falling of those unbalanced blocks, which asingle shock might set loose. And, as a matter of fact, during themorning, several of these blocks did roll into the sea with afrightful noise just like an avalanche. 

On the whole, the iceberg seemed to be very steady on its new base. So long as the centre of gravity was below the level of thewater-line, there was no fear of a fresh capsize. 

I had not yet had an opportunity of speaking to Dirk Peters sincethe catastrophe. As he had answered to his name, I knew he was notnumbered among the victims. At this moment, I perceived him standingon a narrow projection; needless to specify the direction in whichhis eyes were turned. 

Captain Len Guy, the mate, the boatswain, Hardy, and Martin Holt, whom I accompanied, went up again towards the schooner in order tomake a minute investigation of the hull. On the starboard side theoperation would be easy enough, because the _Halbrane_ had a list tothe opposite side. On the port side we would have to slide along tothe keel as well as we could by scooping out the ice, in order toinsure the inspection of every part of the planking. 

After an examination which lasted two hours, it was discovered thatthe damage was of little importance, and could be repaired in ashort time. Two or three planks only were wrenched away by thecollision. In the inside the skin was intact, the ribs not havinggiven way. Our vessel, constructed for the polar seas, had resistedwhere many others less solidly built would have been dashed topieces. The rudder had indeed been unshipped, but that could easilybe set right. 

Having finished our inspection inside and outside, we agreed thatthe damage was less considerable than we feared, and on that subjectwe became reassured. Reassured! Yes, if we could only succeed ingetting the schooner afloat again. 

CHAPTER XX, “UNMERCIFUL DISASTER”

In the morning, after breakfast, it was decided that the men shouldbegin to dig a sloping bed which would allow the _Halbrane_ to slideto the foot of the iceberg. Would that Heaven might grant success tothe operation, for who could contemplate without terror having tobrave the severity of the austral winter, and to pass six monthsunder such conditions as ours on a vast iceberg, dragged none couldtell whither? Once the winter had set in, none of us could haveescaped from that most terrible of fates--dying of cold. 

At this moment, Dirk Peters, who was observing the horizon fromsouth to east at about one hundred paces off, cried out in a roughvoice: “Lying to!”

Lying to? What could the half-breed mean by that, except that thefloating mass had suddenly ceased to drift? As for the cause of thisstoppage, it was neither the moment to investigate it, nor to askourselves what the consequences were likely to be. 

“It is true, however, ” cried the boatswain. “The iceberg isnot stirring, and perhaps has not stirred since it capsized!”

“How?” said I, “it no longer changes its place?”

“No, ” replied the mate, “and the proof is that the others, drifting on, are leaving it behind!”

And, in fact, whilst five or six icebergs were descending towardsthe south, ours was as motionless as though it had been stranded ona shoal. 

The simplest explanation was that the new base had encounteredground at the bottom of the sea to which it now adhered, and wouldcontinue to adhere, unless the submerged part rose in the water soas to cause a second capsize. 

This complicated matters seriously, because the dangers of positiveimmobility were such that the chances of drifting were preferable. At least, in the latter case there was some hope of coming across acontinent or an island, or even (if the currents did not change) ofcrossing the boundaries of the austral region. 

Here we were, then, after three months of this terrible voyage! Wasthere now any question of trying to save William Guy, his comradeson the lane, and Arthur Pym? Was it not for our own safety that anymeans at our disposal should be employed? And could it be wonderedat were the sailors of the _Halbrane_ to rebel, were they to listen toHearne’s suggestions, and make their officers, or myselfespecially, responsible for the disasters of this expedition?

Moreover, what was likely to take place, since, notwithstandingtheir losses, the followers of the sealing-master were still amajority of the ship’s company?

This question I could clearly see was occupying the thoughts ofCaptain Len Guy and West. 

Again, although the recruits from the Falklands formed only a totalof fourteen men, as against the twelve of the old crew, was it notto be feared that some of the latter would take Hearne’s side?What if Hearne’s people, urged by despair, were already thinkingof seizing the only boat we now possessed, setting off towards thenorth, and leaving us on this iceberg? It was, then, of greatimportance that our boat should be put in safety and closely watched. 

A marked change had taken place in Captain Len Guy since the recentoccurrences. He seemed to be transformed upon finding himself faceto face with the dangers which menaced us. Up to that time he hadbeen solely occupied in searching for his fellow-countrymen; he hadhanded over the command of the schooner to West, and he could nothave given it to anyone more zealous and more capable. But from thisdate he resumed his position as master of the ship, and used it withthe energy required by the circumstances; in a word, he again becamesole master on board, after God. 

At his command the crew were drawn up around him on a flat spot alittle to the left of the _Halbrane_. In that place the following wereassembled:--on the seniors’ side: Martin Holt and Hardy, Rogers, Francis, Gratian, Bury, Stern, the cook (Endicott), and I may addDirk Peters; on the side of the new-comers, Hearne and the thirteenother Falkland sailors. The latter composed a distinct group; thesealing-master was their spokesman and exercised a baneful influenceover them. 

Captain Len Guy cast a stern glance upon the men and said in a sharptone:

“Sailors of the _Halbrane_, I must first speak to you of our lostcompanions. Five of us have just perished in this catastrophe. ”

“We are waiting to perish in our turn, in these seas, where wehave been dragged in spite of--”

“Be silent, Hearne, ” cried West, pale with anger, “or ifnot--”

“Hearne has said what he had to say, ” Captain Len Guy continued, coldly. “Now it is said, and I advise him not to interrupt me asecond time!”

The sealing-master might possibly have ventured on an answer, for hefelt that he was backed by the majority of the crew; but Martin Holtheld him back, and he was silent. 

Captain Len Guy then took off his hat and pronounced the followingwords with an emotion that affected us to the bottom of our hearts:--

“We must pray for those who have died in this dangerous voyage, which was undertaken in the name of humanity. May God be pleased totake into consideration the fact that they devoted their lives totheir fellow-creatures, and may He not be insensible to our prayers!Kneel down, sailors of the _Halbrane_!”

They all knelt down on the icy surface, and the murmurs of prayerascended towards heaven. 

We waited for Captain Len Guy to rise before we did so. 

“Now, ” he resumed, “after those who are dead come those whohave survived. To them I say that they must obey me, whatever myorders may be, and even in our present situation I shall nottolerate any hesitation or opposition. The responsibility for thegeneral safety is mine, and I will not yield any of it to anyone. Iam master here, as on board--”

“On board--when there is no longer a ship, ” muttered thesealing-master. 

“You are mistaken, Hearne, the vessel is there, and we will put itback into the sea. Besides, if we had only a boat, I am the captainof it. Let him beware who forgets this!”

That day, Captain Len Guy, having taken the height of the sun by thesextant and fixed the hour by the chronometer (both of theseinstruments had escaped destruction in the collision), obtained thefollowing position of his ship:--

South latitude: 88° 55’. 

West longitude: 39° 12’. 

The _Halbrane_ was only at 1° 5’--about 65 miles--from the southpole. 

“All hands to work, ” was the captain’s order that afternoon, and every one obeyed it with a will. There was not a moment to lose, as the question of time was more important than any other. So faras provisions were concerned, there was enough in the schooner foreighteen months on full rations, so we were not threatened withhunger, nor with thirst either, notwithstanding that owing to thewater-casks having been burst in the collision, their contents hadescaped through their staves. Luckily, the barrels of gin, whisky, beer, and wine, being placed in the least exposed part of the hold, were nearly all intact. Under this head we had experienced no loss, and the iceberg would supply us with good drinking-water. It is awell-known fact that ice, whether formed from fresh or salt water, contains no salt, owing to the chloride of sodium being eliminatedin the change from the liquid to the solid state. The origin of theice, therefore, is a matter of no importance. However, those blockswhich are easily distinguished by their greenish colour and theirperfect transparency are preferable. They are solidified rain, andtherefore much more suitable for drinklng-water. 

Without doubt, our captain would have recognized any blocks of thisdescription, but none were to be found on the glacier, owing to itsbeing that part of the berg which was originally submerged, and cameto the top after the fall. 

The captain and West decided first to lighten the vessel, byconveying everything on board to land. The masts were to be clearedof rigging, taken out, and placed on the plateau. It was necessaryto lighten the vessel as much as possible, even to clear out theballast, owing to the difficult and dangerous operation oflaunching. It would be better to put off our departure for some daysif this operation could be performed under more favourablecircumstances. The loading might be afterwards accomplished withoutmuch difficulty. 

Besides this, another reason by no means less serious presenteditself to us. It would have been an act of unpardonable rashness toleave the provisions in the storeroom of the _Halbrane_, her situationon the side of the iceberg being very precarious. One shake wouldsuffice to detach the ship, and with her would have disappeared thesupplies on which our lives depended. 

On this account, we passed the day in removing casks of half-saltedmeat, dried vegetables, flour, biscuits, tea, coffee, barrels ofgin, whisky, wine and beer from the hold and store-room and placingthem in safety in the hammocks near the _Halbrane_. 

We also had to insure our landing against any possible accident, and, I must add, against any plot on the part of Hearne and othersto seize the boat in order to return to the ice-barrier. 

We placed the long boat in a cavity which would be easy to watch, about thirty feet to the left of the schooner, along with its oars, rudder, compass, anchor, masts and sail. 

By day there was nothing to fear, and at night, or rather during thehours of sleep, the boatswain and one of the superiors would keepguard near the cavity, and we might rest assured that no evil couldbefall. 

The 19th, 20th, and 21st of January were passed in working extrahard in the unshipping of the cargo and the dismantling of the_Halbrane_. We slung the lower masts by means of yards forming props. Later on, West would see to replacing the main and mizzen masts; inany case, we could do without them until we had reached theFalklands or some other winter port. 

Needless to say, we had set up a camp on the plateau of which I havespoken, not far from the _Halbrane_. Sufficient shelter against theinclemency of the weather, not unfrequent at this time of the year, was to be found under tents, constructed of sails placed on sparsand fastened down by pegs. The glass remained set fair; the wind wasnor’-east, the temperature having risen to 46 degrees (2° 78’C. ). 

Endicott’s kitchen was fitted up at the end of the plain, near asteep projection by which we could climb to the very top of the berg. 

It is only fair to state that during these three days of hard workno fault was to be found with Hearne. The sealing-master knew he wasbeing closely watched, and he was well aware that Captain Len Guywould not spare him if he tried to get up insubordination amongsthis comrades. It was a pity that his bad instincts had induced himto play such a part, for his strength, skill, and cleverness madehim a very valuable man, and he had never proved more useful thanunder these circumstances. 

Was he changed for the better? Did he understand that general goodfeeling was necessary for the safety of all? I know not, but I hadno confidence in him, neither had Hurliguerly!

I need not dwell on the ardour with which the half-breed did therough work, always first to begin and the last to leave off, doingas much as four men, and scarcely sleeping, only resting duringmeals, which he took apart from the others. He had hardly spoken tome at all since the schooner had met with this terrible accident. 

What indeed could he say to me? Did I not know as well as he that itwould be necessary to renounce every hope of pursuing our intendedvoyage?

Now and again I noticed Martin Holt and the halfbreed near eachother while some difficult piece of work wasin progress. Oursailing-masterdid not miss a chance of getting near Dirk Peters, whoalways tried his best to escape from him, for reasons well known tome. And whenever I thought of the secret of the fate of theso-called Parker, Martin Holt’s brother, which had been entrustedto me, that dreadful scene of the _Grampus_ filled me with horror. Iwas certain that if this secret were made known the half-breed wouldbecome an object of terror. He would no longer be looked upon as therescuerof the sailingmaster; and the latter, learning that hisbrother--Luckily, Dirk Peters and myself were the only twoacquainted with the fact. 

While the _Halbrane_ was being unloaded, Captain Len Guy and the matewere considering how the vessel might be launched. They had to allowfor a drop of one hundred feet between the cavity in which the shiplay and the sea; this to be effected by means of an inclined bedhollowed in an oblique line along the west side of the iceberg, andto measure two or three hundred perches in length. So, while thefirst lot of men, commanded by the boatswain, was unloading theschooner, a second batch under West’s orders began to cut thetrench between the blocks which covered the side of the floatingmountain. 

Floating? I know not why I use this expression, for the iceberg nolonger floated, but remained as motionless as an island. There wasnothing to indicate that it would ever move again. Other icebergsdrifted along and passed us, going south-east, whilst ours, to useDirk Peters’ expression, was “lying to. ” Would its base besufficiently undermined to allow it to detach itself? Perhaps someheavy mass of ice might strike it and set it free by the shock. Noone could predict such an event, and we had only the _Halbrane_ torely upon for getting us out of these regions. 

We were engaged in these various tasks until the 24th of January. The atmosphere was clear, the temperature was even, and thethermometer had indeed gone up to two or three degrees abovefreezing-point. The number of icebergs coming from the nor’-westwas therefore increasing; there were now a hundred of them, and acollision with any of these might have a most disastrous result. Hardy, the caulker, hastened first of all to mend the hull; pegs hadto be changed, bits of planking to be replaced, seams to be caulked. We had everything that was necessary for this work, and we mightrest assured that it would be performed in the best possible manner. In the midst of the silence of these solitudes, the noise of thehammers striking nails into the side, and the sound of the malletstuffing tow into the seams, had a startling effect. Sea-gulls, wildduck, albatross, and petrels flew in a circle round the top of theberg with a shrill screaming, and made a terrible uproar. 

When I found myself with West and the captain, our conversationnaturally turned on our situation and how to get out of it, and uponour chances of pulling through. The mate had good hopes that if noaccident occurred the launching would be successfullyaccomplished. The captain was more reserved on the subject, but at the thoughtthat he would have to renounce all hope of finding the survivors ofthe fane, his heart was ready to break. When the _Halbrane_ shouldagain be ready for the sea, and when West should inquire what coursehe was to steer, would Captain Len Guy dare to reply, “To thesouth”? No! for he would not be followed either by the new hands, or by the greater portion of the older members of the crew. Tocontinue our search in this direction, to go beyond the pole, without being certain of reaching the Indian Ocean instead of theAtlantic, would have been rashness of which no navigator would beguilty. If a continent bound the sea on this side, the schoonerwould run the danger of being crushed by the mass of ice before itcould escape the southern winter. 

Under such circumstances, to attempt to persuade Captain Len Guy topursue the voyage would only be to court a certain refusal. It couldnot even be proposed, now that necessity obliged us to returnnorthwards, and not to delay a single day in this portion of theAntarctic regions. At any rate, though I resolved not again to speakof the matter to the captain, I lost no opportunity of sounding theboatswain. Often when he had finished his work, Hurliguerly wouldcome and join me; we would chat, and we would compare ourrecollections of travel. 

One day as we were seated on the summit of the iceberg, gazingfixedly on the deceptive horizon, he exclaimed, --

“Who could ever have imagined, Mr. Jeorling, when the _Halbrane_left Kerguelen, that six and a half months afterwards she would bestuck on the side of an icemountain?”

“A fact much more to be regretted, ” I replied, “because onlyfor that accident we should have attained our object, and we shouldhave begun our return journey. ”

“I don’t mean to contradict, ” replied the boatswain, “butyou say we should have attained our object, Do you mean by that, that we should have found our countrymen?”

“Perhaps. ”

“I can scarcely believe such would have been the case, Mr. Jeorling, although this was the principal and perhaps even the onlyobject of our navigation in the polarseas. ”

“The only one--yes--at the start, ” I insinuated. “But sincethe half-breed’s revelations about Arthur Pym--”

“Ah! You are always harking back on that subject, like brave DirkPeters. ”

“Always, Hurliguerly; and only that a deplorable and unforeseenaccident made us run aground--”

“I leave you to your delusions, Mr. Jeorling, since you believeyou have run aground--”

“Why? Is not this the case?”

“In any case it is a wonderful running aground, ” replied theboatswain. “Instead of a good solid bottom, we have run aground inthe air. ”

“Then I am right, Hurliguerly, in saying it is an unfortunateadventure. ”

“Unfortunate, truly, but in my opinion we should take warning byit. ”

“What warning?”

“That it is not permitted to us to venture so farin theselatitudes, and I believe that the Creator forbids His creatures toclimb to the summit of the poles. ”

“Notwithstanding that the summit of one pole is only sixty milesaway from us now. ”

“Granted, Mr. Jeorling, but these sixty miles are equal tothousands when we have no means of making them! And if the launch ofthe schooner is not successful, here are we condemned to winterquarters which the polar bears themselves would hardly relish!”

I replied only by a shake of my head, which Hurliguerly could notfail to understand. 

“Do you know, Mr. Jeorling, of what I think oftenest?”

“What do you think of, boatswain?”

“Of the Kerguelens, whither we are certainly not travelling. Truly, in a bad season it was cold enough there! There is not muchdifference between this archipelago and the islands situated on theedge of the Antarctic Sea! But there one is not far from the Cape, and if we want to warm our shins, no iceberg bars the way. Whereashere it is the devil to weigh anchor, and one never knows if oneshall find a clear course. ”

“I repeat it, boatswain. If this last accident had not occurred, everything would have been over by this time, one way or another. Weshould still have had more than six weeks to get out of thesesouthern seas. It is seldom that a ship is so roughly treated asours has been, and I consider it real bad luck, after our havingprofited by such fortunate circumstances--”

“These circumstances are all over, Mr. Jeorling, ” exclaimedHurliguerly, “and I fear indeed--”

“What--you also, boatswain--you whom I believed to be soconfident!”

“Confidence, Mr. Jeorling, wears out like the ends of one’strousers, What would you have me do? When I compare my lot to oldAtkins, installed in his cosy inn; when I think of the GreenCormorant, of the big parlours downstairs with the little tablesround which friends sip whisky and gin, discussing the news of theday, while the stove makes more noise than the weathercock on theroof--oh, then the comparison is not in our favour, and in myopinion Mr. Atkins enjoys life better than I do. ”

“You shall see them all again, boatswain--Atkins, the GreenCormorant, and Kerguelen! For God’s sake do not let yourself growdownhearted! And if you, a sensible and courageous man, despairalready--”

“Oh, if I were the only one it would not be half so bad as itis!”

“The whole crew does not despair, surely?”

“Yes--and no, ” replied Hurliguerly, “for I know some who arenot at all satisfied!”

“Has Hearne begun his mischief again? Is he exciting hiscompanion?”

“Not openly at least, Mr. Jeorling, and since I have kept himunder my eye I have neither seen nor heard anything. Besides, heknows what awaits him if he budges. I believe I am not mistaken, thesly dog has changed his tactics. But what does not astonish me inhim, astonishes me in Martin Holt. ”

“What do you mean, boatswain?”

“That they seem to be on good terms with each other. See howHearne seeks out Martin Holt, talks to him frequently, and Holt doesnot treat his overtures unfavourably. ’’

“Martin Holt is not one of those who would listen to Hearne’sadvice, or follow it if he tried to provoke rebellion amongst thecrew. ”

“No doubt, Mr. Jeorling. However, I don’t fancy seeing them somuch together. Hearne is a dangerous and unscrupulous individual, and most likely Martin Holt does not distrust him sufficiently. ”

“He is wrong, boatswain. ”

“And--wait a moment--do you know what they were talking aboutthe other day when I overheard a few scraps of their conversation?”

“I could not possibly guess until you tell me, Hurliguerly. 

“Well, while they were conversing on the bridge of the _Halbrane_, Iheard them talking about Dirk Peters, and Hearne was saying: ‘Youmust not owe a grudge to the half-breed, Master Holt, because herefused to respond to your advances and accept your thanks! If he beonly a sort of brute, he possesses plenty of courage, and has showedit in getting you out of a bad corner at the risk of his life. Andbesides, do not forget that he formed part of the crew of the_Grampus_ and your brother Ned, if I don’t mistake--’“

“He said that, boatswain; he spoke of the _Grampus_!” I exclaimed. 

“Yes--of the _Grampus_!

“And of Ned Holt?”

“Precisely, Mr. Jeorling!”

“And what answer did Martin Holt make?”

“He replied: ‘I don’t even know under what circumstances myunfortunate brother perished. Was it during a revolt on board? Braveman that he was, he would not betray his captain, and perhaps he wasmassacred. ”

“Did Hearne dwell on this, boatswain?”

“Yes, but he added: ‘It is very sad for you, Master Holt! Thecaptain of the _Grampus_, according to what I have been told, wasabandoned, being placed in a small boat with one or two of hismen--and who knows if your brother was not along with him?’“

“And what next?”

“Then, Mr. Jeorling, he added: ‘Did it never occur to you to askDirk Peters to enlighten you on the subject?’ ‘Yes, once, ’replied Martin Holt, ‘I questioned the halfbreed about it, andnever did I see a man so overcome. He replied in so low a voice thatI could scarcely understand him, ‘I know not--I know not--’and he ran away with his face buried in his hands. ”

“Was that all you heard of the conversation, boatswain?”

“That was all, Mr. Jeorling, and I thought it so strange that Iwished to inform you of it. ”

“And what conclusion did you draw from it?”

“Nothing, except that I look upon the sealing-master as ascoundrel of the deepest dye, perfectly capable of working insecret for some evil purpose with which he would like to associateMartin Holt!”

What did Hearne’s new attitude mean? Why did he strive to gainMartin Holt, one of the best of the crew, as an ally? Why did herecall the scenes of the _Grampus_? Did Hearne know more of thismatter of Dirk Peters and Ned Holt than the others; this secret ofwhich the half-breed and I believed ourselves to be the solepossessors?

The doubt caused me serious uneasiness. However, I took good carenot to say anything of it to Dirk Peters. If he had for a momentsuspected that Hearne spoke of what happened on board the _Grampus_, if he had heard that the rascal (as Hurliguerly called him, and notwithout reason) constantly talked to Martin Holt about his brother, I really do not know what would have happened. 

In short, whatever the intentions of Hearne might be, it wasdreadful to think that our sailing-master, on whose fidelity CaptainLen Guy ought to be able to count, was in conspiracy with him. 

The sealing-master must have a strong motive for acting in this way. What it was I could not imagine. Although the crew seemed to haveabandoned every thougilt of mutiny, a strict watch was kept, especially on Hearne. 

Besides, the situation must soon change, at least so far as theschooner was concerned. Two days afterwards the work was finished. The caulking operations were completed, and also the slide forlowering the vessel to the base of our floating mountain. 

Just now the upper portion of the ice had been slightly softened, sothat this last work did not entail much labour for pick-axe orspade. The course ran obliquely round the west side of the berg, sothat the incline should not be too great at any point. With cablesproperly fixed, the launch, it seemed, might be effected without anymishap. I rather feared lest the melting of the ice should make thegliding less smcoth at the lower part of the berg. 

Needless to say, the cargo, masting, anchors, chains, &c. , had notbeen put on board. The hull was quite heavy enough, and not easilymoved, so it was necessary to lighten it as much as possible. 

When the schooner was again in its element, the loading could beeffected in a few days. 

On the afternoon of the 28th, the finishing touches were given. Itwas necessary to put supports for the sides of the slide in someplaces where the ice had melted quickly. Then everyone was allowedto rest from 4 o’clock p. M. The captain had double rations servedout to all hands, and well they merited this extra supply ofspirits; they had indeed worked hard during the week. I repeat thatevery sign of mutiny had disappeared. The crew thought of nothingexcept this great operation of the launching. The _Halbrane_ in thesea would mean departure, it would also mean return! For Dirk Petersand me it would be the definite abandonment of Arthur Pym. 

That night the temperature was the highest we had so farexperienced. The thermometer registered 53° (11° 67’ C. Belowzero). So, although the sun was nearing the horizon, the ice wasmelting, and thousands of small streams flowed in every direction. The early birds awoke at four o’clock, and I was one of theirnumber. I had scarcely slept, and I fancy that Dirk Peters did notsleep much, haunted as he was by the sad thought of having to turnback!

The launch was to take place at ten o’clock. Taking every possibledifficulty into account, and allowing for the minutest precautions, the captain hoped that it would be completed before the close of theday. Everyone believed that by evening the schooner would be at thefoot of the berg. 

Of course we had all to lend a hand to this difficult task. To eachman a special duty was assigned; some were employed to facilitatethe sliding with wooden rollers, if necessary; others to moderatethe speed of the hull, in case it became too great, by means ofhawsers and cables. 

We breakfasted at nine o’clock in the tents. Our sailors wereperfectly confident, and could not refrain from drinking “successto the event”; and although this was a little premature, we addedour hurrahs to theirs. Success seemed very nearly assured, as thecaptain and the mate had worked out the matter so carefully andskilfully. At last we were about to leave our encampment and take upour stations (some of the sailors were there already), when cries ofamazement and fear were raised. What a frightful scene, and, shortas it may have been, what an impression of terror it left on ourminds!

One of the enormous blocks which formed the bank of the mud-bedwhere the _Halbrane_ lay, having become loose owing to the melting ofits base, had slipped and was bounding over the others down theincline. 

In another moment, the schooner, being no longer retained inposition, was swinging on this declivity. 

On board, on deck, in front, there were two sailors, Rogers andGratian. In vain did the unfortunate men try to jump over thebulwarks, they had not time, and they were dragged away in thisdreadful fall. 

Yes! I saw it! I saw the schooner topple over, slide down first onits left side, crush one of the men who delayed too long aboutjumping to one side, then bound from block to block, and finallyfling itself into space. 

In another moment the _Halbrane_, staved in, broken up, with gapingplanks and shattered ribs, had sunk, causing a tremendous jet ofwater to spout up at the foot of the iceberg. 

Horrified! yes, indeed, we were horrified when the schooner, carriedoff as though by an avalanche, had disappeared in the abyss! Not aparticle of our _Halbrane_ remained, not even a wreck!

A minute ago she was one hundred feet in the air, now she was fivehundred in the depths of the sea! Yes, we were so stupefied that wewere unable to think of the dangers to come--our amazement was thatof people who “cannot believe their eyes. ”

Prostration succeeded as a natural consequence. There was not a wordspoken. We stood motionless, with our feet rooted to the icy soil. No words could express the horror of our situation!

As for West, when the schooner had disappeared in the abyss, I sawbig tears fall from his eyes. The _Halbrane_ that he loved so much wasnow an unknown quantity! Yes, our stout-hearted mate wept. 

Three of our men had perished, and in what frightful fashion! I hadseen Rogers and Gratian, two of our most faithful sailors, stretchout their hands in despair as they were knocked about by therebounding of the schooner, and finally sink with her! The other manfrom the Falklands, an American, was crushed in its rush; hisshapeless form lay in a pool of blood. Three new victims within thelast ten days had to be inscribed on the register of those who diedduring this fatal voyage! Ah! fortune had favoured us up to the hourwhen the _Halbrane_ was snatched from her own element, but her handwas now against us. And was not this last the worst blow--must itnot prove the stroke of death?

The silence was broken by a tumult of despairing voices, whosedespair was justified indeed by this irreparable misfortune!

And I am sure that more than one thought it would have been betterto have been on the _Halbrane_ as she rebounded off the side of theiceberg!

Everything would have been over then, as all was over with Rogersand Gratian! This foolish expedition would thus have come to aconclusion worthy of such rashness and imprudence!

At last, the instinct of self-preservation triumphed, and exceptHearne, who stood some distance off and affected silence, all themen shouted: “To the boat! to the boat!”

These unfortunate fellows were out of their mind. Terror led themastray. They rushed towards the crag where our one boat (which couldnot hold them all) had been sheltered during the unloading of theschooner. 

Captain Len Guy and Jem West rushed after them. I joined themimmediately, followed by the boatswain. We were armed, and resolvedto make use of our arms. We had to prevent these furious men fromseizing the boat, which did not belong to a few, but to all!

“Hallo, sailors!” cried the captain. 

“Hallo!” repeated West, “stop there, or we fire on the firstwho goes a step farther!”

Both threatened the men with their pistols. The boatswain pointedhis gun at them. I held my rifle, ready to fire. 

It was in vain! The frenzied men heard nothing, would not hearanything, and one of them fell, struck by the mate’s bullet, justas he was crossing the last block. He was unable to catch on to thebank with his hands, and slipping on the frozen slope, hedisappeared in the abyss. 

Was this the beginning of a massacre? Would others let themselves bekilled at this place? Would the old hands side with the new-comers?

At that moment I remarked that Hardy, Martin Holt, Francis Bury, andStern hesitated about coming over to our side, while Hearne, stillstanding motionless at some distance, gave no encouragement to therebels. 

However, we could not allow them to become masters of the boat, tobring it down, to embark ten or twelve men, and to abandon us to ourcertain fate on this iceberg. They had almost reached the boat, heedless of danger and deaf to threats, when a second report washeard, and one of the sailors fell, by a bullet from theboatswain’s gun. 

One American and one Fuegian less to be numbered amongst thesealing-master’s partisans!

Then, in front of the boat, a man appeared. It was Dirk Peters, whohad climbed the opposite slope. 

The half-breed put one of his enormous hands on the stern and withthe other made a sign to the furious men to clear off. Dirk Petersbeing there, we no longer needed our arms, as he alone would sufficeto protect the boat. 

And indeed, as five or six of the sailors were advancing, he went upto them, caught hold of the nearest by the belt, lifted him up, andsent him flying ten paces off. The wretched man not being able tocatch hold of anything, would have rebounded into the sea had notHearne seized him. 

Owing to the half-breed’s intervention the revolt was instantlyqueued. Besides, we were coming up to the boat, and with us those ofour men whose hesitation bad not lasted long. 

No matter. The others were still thirteen to our ten. Captain LenGuy made his appearance; anger shone in his eyes, and with him wasWest, quite unmoved. Words failed the captain for some moments, buthis looks said what his tongue could not utter. At length, in aterrible voice, he said, --

“I ought to treat you as evil-doers; however, I will only consideryou as madmen! The boat belongs to everybody. It is now our onlymeans of salvation, and you wanted to steal it--to steal it likecowards! Listen attentively to what I say for the last time! Thisboat, belonging to the _Halbrane_, is now the _Halbrane_ herself! I amthe captain of it, and let him who disobeys me, beware!”

With these last words Captain Len Guy looked at Hearne, for whomthis warning was expressly meant. The sealing-master had notappeared in the last scene, not openly at least, but nobody doubtedthat he had urged his comrades to make off with the boat, and thathe had every intention of doing the same again. 

“Now to the camp, ” said the captain, “and you, Dirk Peters, remain here!”

The half-breed’s only reply was to nod his big head and betakehimself to his post. 

The crew returned to the camp without the least hesitation. Some laydown in their sleeping-places, others wandered about. Hearne neithertried to join them nor to go near Martin Holt. 

Now that the sailors were reduced to idleness, there was nothing todo except to ponder on our critical situation, and invent some meansof getting out of it. 

The captain, the mate, and the boatswain formed a council, and Itook part in their deliberations. Captain Len Guy began by saying, --

“We have protected our boat, and we shall continue to protectit. ”

“Until death, ” declared West. 

“Who knows, ” said I, “whether we shall not soon be forced toembark?”

“In that case, ” replied the captain, “as all cannot fit intoit, it will be necessary to make a selection. Lots shall determinewhich of us are to go, and I shall not ask to be treated differentlyfrom the others. ”

“We have not come to that, luckily, ” replied the boatswain. “The iceberg is solid, and there is no fear of its melting beforewinter. ”

“No, ” assented West, “that is not to be feared. What itbehoves us to do is, while watching the boat, to keep an eye on theprovisions. ”

“We are lucky, ” added Hurllguerly, “to have put our cargo insafety. Poor, dear _Halbrane_. She will remain in these seas, like thefane, her elder sister!”

Yes, without doubt, and I thought so for many reasons, the onedestroyed by the savages of Tsalal, the other by one of thesecatastrophes that no human power can prevent. 

“You are right, ” replied the captain, “and we must prevent ourmen from plundering. We are sure of enough provisions for one year, without counting what we may get by fishing. ”

“And it is so much the more necessary, captain, to keep a closewatch, because I have seen some hovering about the spirit casks. ”

“I will see to that, ” replied West. 

“But, ” I then asked, “had we not better prepare ourselves forthe fact that we may be compelled to winter on this iceberg. ”

“May Heaven avert such a terrible probability, ” replied thecaptain. 

“After all, if it were necessary, we could get through it, Mr. Jeorling, ” said the boatswain. “We could hollow outsheltering-places in the ice, so as to be able to bear the extremecold of the pole, and so long as we had sufficient to appease ourhunger--”

At this moment the horrid recollection of the _Grampus_ came to mymind--the scenes in which Dirk Peters killed Ned Holt, the brotherof our sailing-master. Should we ever be in such extremity?

Would it not, before we proceed to set up winter quarters for sevenor eight months, be better to leave the iceberg altogether, if sucha thing were possible?

I called the attention of Captain Len Guy and West to this point. 

This was a difficult question to answer, and a long silence precededthe reply. 

At last the captain said, --

“Yes, that would be the best resolution to come to; and if ourboat could hold us all, with the provisions necessary for a voyagethat might last three or four weeks, I would not hesitate to put tosea now and return towards the north. ”

But I made them observe that we should be obliged to direct ourcourse contrary to wind and current; our schooner herself couldhardly have succeeded in doing this. Whilst to continue towards thesouth--

“Towards the south?” repeated the captain, who looked at me asthough he sought to read my thoughts. 

“Why not?” I answered. “If the iceberg had not been stoppedin its passage, perhaps it would have drifted to some land in thatdirection, and might not our boat accomplish what it would havedone?”

The captain, shaking his head, answered nothing. West also wassilent. 

“Eh! our iceberg will end by raising its anchor, ” repliedHurliguerly. “It does not hold to the bottom, like the Falklandsor the Kerguelens! So the safest course is to wait, as the boatcannot carry twenty-three, the number of our party. ”

I dwelt upon the fact that it was not necessary for all twenty-threeto embark. It would be sufficient, I said, for five or six of us toreconnoitre further south for twelve or fifteen miles. 

“South?” repeated Captain Len Guy. 

“Undoubtedly, captain, ” I added. “You probably know what thegeographers frankly admit, that the antarctic regions are formed bya capped continent. ”

“Geographers know nothing, and can know nothing about it, ”replied West, coldly. 

“It is a pity, ” said I, “that as we are so near, we should notattempt to solve this question of a polar continent. ”

I thought it better not to insist just at present. 

Moreover there would be danger in sending out our only boat on avoyage of discovery, as the current might carry it too far, or itmight not find us again in the same place. And, indeed, if theiceberg happened to get loose at the bottom, and to resume itsinterrupted drift, what would become of the men in the boat?

The drawback was that the boat was too small to carry us all, withthe necessary provisions. Now, of the seniors, there remained tenmen, counting Dirk Peters; of the new men there were thirteen;twenty-three in all. The largest number our boat could hold was fromeleven to twelve persons. Then eleven of us, indicated by lot, wouldhave to remain on this island of ice. And what would become of them?

With regard to this Hurliguerly made a sound observation. 

“After all, ” he said, “I don’t know that those who wouldembark would be better off than those who remained! I am so doubtfulof the result, that I would willingly give up my place to anyone whowanted it. ”

Perhaps the boatswain was right. But in my own mind, when I askedthat the boat might be utilized, it was only for the purpose ofreconnoitring the iceberg. 

We finally decided to arrange everything with a view to winteringout, even were our ice-mountain again to drift. 

“We may be sure that will be agreed to by our men, ” declaredHurliguerly. 

“What is necessary must be done, ” replied the mate, “andto-day we must set to work. ”

That was a sad day on which we began our preparations. 

Endicott, the cook, was the only man who submitted withoutmurmuring. As a negro, who cares little about the future, shallowand frivolous like all his race, he resigned himself easily to hisfate; and this is, perhaps, true philosophy. Besides, when it cameto the question of cooking, it mattered very little to him whetherit was here or there, so long as his stoves were set up somewhere. 

So he said to his friend the mate, with his broad negro smile, --

“Luckily my kitchen did not go off with the schooner, and youshall see, Hurliguerly, if I do not make up dishes just as good ason board the _Halbrane_, so long as provisions don’t grow scarce, ofcourse--”

“Well! they will not be wanting for some time to come, ” repliedthe boatswain. “We need not fear hunger, but cold, such cold aswould reduce you to an icicle the minute ycu cease to warm yourfeetwcold that makes your skin crack and your skull split! Even ifwe had some hundreds of tons of coal--But, all things being wellcalculated, there is only just what will do to boil this largekettle. ”

“And that is sacred, ” cried Endicott; “touching is forbidden!The kitchen before all. ”

“And that is the reason why it never strikes you to pity yourself, you old nigger! You can always make sure of keeping your feet warmat your oven!”

“What would you have, boatswain? You are a first-rate cook, or youare not. When you are, you take advantage of it; but I will rememberto keep you a little place before my stove. ”

“That’s good! that’s good, Endicott! Each one shall have histurn! There is no privilege, even for a boatswain! On the whole, itis better not to have to fear famine! One can fight against thecold. We shall dig holes in the iceberg, and cuddle ourselves upthere. And why should we not have a general dwelling-room? We couldmake a cave for ourselves with pickaxes! I have heard tell that icepreserves heat. Well, let it preserve ours, and that is all I ask ofit!”

The hour had come for us to return to the camp and to seek oursleeping-places. 

Dirk Peters alone refused to be relieved of his duty as watchman ofthe boat, and nobody thought of disputing the post with him. 

Captain Len Guy and West did not enter the tents until they had madecertain that Hearne and his companions had gone to their usual placeof rest. I came back likewise and went to bed. 

I could not tell how long I had been sleeping, nor what time it was, when I found myself rolling on the ground after a violent shock. 

What could be happening? Was it another capsize of the iceberg?

We were all up in a second, then outside the tents in the full lightof a night in the polar regions. 

A second floating mass of enormous size had just struck our iceberg, which had “hoisted the anchor” (as the sailors say) and wasdrifting towards the south. 

An unhoped-for change in the situation had taken place. What were tobe the consequences of our being no longer cast away at that place?The current was now carrying us in the direction of the pole! Thefirst feeling of joy inspired by this conviction was, however, succeeded by all the terrors of the unknown l and what an unknown!

Dirk Peters only was entirely rejoiced that we had resumed the routewhich, he believed, would lead us to the discovery of traces of his“poor Pym”--far other ideas occupied the minds of his companions. 

Captain Len Guy no longer entertained any hope of rescuing hiscountrymen, and having reached the condition of despair, he wasbound by his duty to take his crew back to the north, so as to clearthe antarctic circle while the season rendered it possible to do so. And we were being carried away towards the south!

Naturally enough, we were all deeply impressed by the fearfulness ofour position, which may be summed up in a few words. We were nolonger cast away, with a possible ship, but the tenants of afloating iceberg, with no hope but that our monster tenement mightencounter one of the whaling ships whose business in the deep waterslies between the Orkneys, New Georgia, and the Sandwich Islands. Aquantity of things had been thrown into the ice by the collisionwhich had set our iceberg afloat, but these were chiefly articlesbelonging to the _Halbrane_. Owing to the precaution that had beentaken on the previous day, when the cargo was stowed away in theclefts, it had been only slightly damaged. What would have become ofus, had all our reserves been swallowed up in that grim encounter?

Now, the two icebergs formed but one, which was travelling south atthe rate of two miles an hour. At this rate, thirty hours wouldsuffice to bring us to the point of the axis at which theterrestrial meridians unite. Did the current which was carrying usalong pass on to the pole itself, or was there any land which mightarrest our progress? This was another question, and I discussed itwith the boatswain. 

“Nobody knows, Mr. Jeorling, ” was Hurliguerly’s reply. “Ifthe current goes to the pole, we shall go there; and if itdoesn’t, we shan’t. An iceberg isn’t a ship, and as it hasneither sails nor helm, it goes as the drift takes it. ”

“That’s true, boatswain. And therefore I had the idea that iftwo or three of us were to embark in the boat--”

“Ah! you still hold to your notion of the boat--”

“Certainly, for, if there is land somewhere, is it not possiblethat the people of the _Jane_--”

“Have come upon it, Mr. Jeorling--at four thousand miles fromTsalal Island. ”

“Who knows, boatswain?”

“That may be, but allow me to say that your argument will bereasonable when the land comes in sight, if it ever does so. Ourcaptain will see what ought to be done, and he will remember thattime presses. We cannot delay in these waters, and, after all, theone thing of real importance to us is to get out of the polar circlebefore the winter makes it impassable. ”

There was good sense in Hurliguerly’s words; I could not deny thefact. 

During that day the greater part of the cargo was placed in theinterior of a vast cave-like fissure in the side of the iceberg, where, even in case of a second collision, casks and barrels wouldbe in safety. Our men then assisted Endicott to set up hiscooking-stove between two blocks, so that it was firmly fixed, andthey heaped up a great mass of coals close to it. 

No murmurs, no recrimination disturbed these labours. It was evidentthat silence was deliberately maintained. The crew obeyed thecaptain and West because they gave no orders but such as were ofurgent necessity. But, afterwards, would these men allow theauthority of their leaders to be uncontested? How long would therecruits from the Falklands, who were already exasperated by thedisasters of our enterprise, resist their desire to seize upon theboat and escape?

I did not think they would make the attempt, however, so long as ouriceberg should continue to drift, for the boat could not outstripits progress; but, if it were to run aground once more, to strikeupon the coast of an island or a continent, what would not theseunfortunate creatures do to escape the horrors of wintering undersuch conditions?

In the afternoon, during the hour of rest allowed to the crew, I hada second conversation with Dirk Peters. I had taken my customaryseat at the top of the iceberg, and had occupied it for half anhour, being, as may be supposed, deep in thought, when I saw thehalf-breed coming quickly up the slope. We had exchanged hardly adozen words since the iceberg had begun to move again. When DirkPeters came up to me, he did not address me at first, and was sointent on his thoughts that I was not quite sure he saw me. Atlength, heleaned back against an ice-block, and spoke:

“Mr. Jeorling, ” he said, “you remember, in your cabin in the_Halbrane_, I told you the--the affair of the _Grampus_?”

I remembered well. 

“I told you that Parker’s name was not Parker, that it was Holt, and that he was Ned Holt’s brother?”

“I know, Dirk Peters, ” I replied, “but why do you refer tothat sad story again?”

“Why, Mr. Jeorling? Have not--have you never sam anything aboutit to anybody?”

“Not to anybody, ” I protested. “How could you suppose I shouldbe so ill-advised, so imprudent, as to divulge your secret, a secretwhich ought never to pass our lips--a dead secret?”

“Dead, yes, dead! And yet, understand me, it seems to me that, among the crew, something is known. ”

I instantly recalled to mind what the boatswain had told meconcerning a certain conversation in which he had overheard Hearneprompting Martin Holt to ask the half-breed what were thecircumstances of his brother’s death on board the _Grampus_. Had aportion of the secret got out, or was this apprehension on the partof Dirk Peters purely imaginary?

“Explain yourself, ” I said. 

“Understand me, Mr. Jeorling, I am a bad hand at explaining. Yes, yesterday--I have thought of nothing else since--Martin Holt tookme aside, far from the others, and told me that he wished to speakto me--”

“Of the _Grampus_?”

“Of the _Grampus_--yes, and of his brother, Ned Holt. For the firsttime he uttered that name before me--and yet we have sailedtogether for nearly three months. ”

The half-breed’s voice was so changed that I could hardly hear him. 

“It seemed to me, ” he resumed, “that in Martin Holt’smind--no, I was not mistaken--there was something like asuspicion. ”

“But tell me what he said! Tell me exactly what he asked you. Whatis it?”

I felt sure that the question put by Martin Holt, whatsoever itsbearing, had been inspired by Hearne. Nevertheless, as I consideredit well that the half-breed should know nothing of thesealing-master’s disquieting and inexplicable intervention in thistragic affair, I decided upon concealing it from him. 

“He asked me, ” replied Dirk Peters, “did I not remember NedHolt of the _Grampus_, and whether he had perished in the fight withthe mutineers or in the shipwreck; whether he was one of the men whohad been abandoned with Captain Barnard; in short, he asked me if Icould tell him how his brother died. Ah! how!”

No idea could be conveyed of the horror with which the half-breeduttered words which revealed a profound loathing of himself. 

“And what answer did you make to Martin Holt?”

“None, none!”

“You should have said that Ned Holt perished in the wreck of thebrig. ”

“I could not--understand me--I could not. The two brothers areso like each other. In Martin Holt I seemed to see Ned Holt. I wasafraid, I got away from him. ”

The half-breed drew himself up with a sudden movement, and I satthinking, leaning my head on my hands. These tardy questions ofHolt’s respecting his brother were put, I had no doubt whatsoever, at the instigation of Hearne, but what was his motive, and was it atthe Falklands that he had discovered the secret of Dirk Peters? Ihad not breathed a word on the subject to anymm. To the secondquestion no answer suggested itself; the first involved a seriousissue. Did the sealing-master merely desire to gratify his enmityagainst Dirk Peters, the only one of the Falkland sailors who hadalways taken the side of Captain Len Guy, and who had prevented theseizure of the boat by Hearne and his companions? Did he hope, byarousing the wrath and vengeance of Martin Holt, to detach thesailing-master from his allegiance and induce him to become anaccomplice in Hearne’s own designs? And, in fact, when it was aquestion of sailing the boat in these seas, had he not imperativeneed of Martin Holt, one of the best seamen of the _Halbrane_? A manwho would succeed where Hearne and his companions would fail, ifthey had only themselves to depend on?

I became lost in this labyrinth of hypotheses, and it must beadmitted that its complications added largely to the troubles of analready complicated position. 

When I raised my eyes, Dirk Peters had disappeared; he had said whathe came to say, and he now knew that I had not betrayed hisconfidence. 

The customary precautions were taken for the night, no individualbeing allowed to remain outside the camp, with the exception of thehalf-breed, who was in charge of the boat. 

The following day was the 31st of January. I pushed back the canvasof the tent, which I shared with Captain Len Guy and Westrespectively, as each succeeded the other on release from thealternate “watch, ” very early, and experienced a severedisappointment. 

Mist, everywhere! Nay, more than mist, a thick yellow, mouldy-smelling fog. And more than this again; the temperature hadfallen sensibly: this was probably a forewarning of the australwinter. The summit of our ice-mountain was lost in vapour, in a fogwhich would not resolve itself into rain, but would continue tomuffle up the horizon. 

“Bad luck!” said the boatswain, “for now if we were to pass byland we should not perceive it. ”

”And our drift?”

“More considerable than yesterday, Mr. Jeorling. The captain hassounded, and he makes the speed no less than between three and fourmiles. ”

“And what do you conclude from this?”

“I conclude that we must be within a narrower sea, since thecurrent is so strong. I should not be surprised if we had land onboth sides of us within ten or fifteen miles. ”

“This, then, would be a wide strait that cuts the antarcticcontinent?”

“Yes. Our captain is of that opinion. ”

“And, holding that opinion, is he not going to make an attempt toreach one or other of the coasts of this strait?”

“And how?”

“With the boat. ”

“Risk the boat in the midst of this fog!” exclaimed theboatswain, as he crossed his arms. “What are you thinking of, Mr. Jeorling? Can we cast anchor to wait for it? And all the chanceswould be that we should never see it again. Ah! if we only had the_Halbrane_!”

But there was no longer a _Halbrane_!

In spite of the difficulty of the ascent through the half-condensedvapour, I climbed up to the top of the iceberg, but when I hadgained that eminence I strove in vain to pierce the impenetrablegrey mantle in which the waters were wrapped. 

I remained there, hustled by the north-east wind, which wasbeginning to blow freshly and might perhaps rend the fog asunder. But no, fresh vapours accumulated around our floating refuge, drivenup by the immense ventilation of the open sea. Under the doubleaction of the atmospheric and antarctic currents, we drifted moreand more rapidly, and I perceived a sort of shudder pass throughoutthe vast bulk of the iceberg. 

Then it was that I felt myself under the dominion of a sort ofhallucination, one of those hallucinations which must have troubledtile mind of Arthur Pym. It seemed to me that I was losing myself inhis extraordinary personality; at last I was beholding all that hehad seen! Was not that impenetrable mist the curtain of vapourswhich he had seen in his delirium? I peered into it, seeking forthose luminous rays which had streaked the sky from east to west! Isought in its depths for that limitless cataract, rolling in silencefrom the height of some immense rampart lost in the vastness of thezenith! I sought for the awful white giant of the South Pole!

At length reason resumed her sway. This visionary madness, intoxicating while it lasted, passed off by degrees, and I descendedthe slope to our camp. 

The whole day passed without a change. The fog never once lifted togive us a glimpse outside of its muffling folds, and if the iceberg, which had travelled forty miles since the previous day, had passedby the extremity of the axis of the earth, we should never know it. 

CHAPTER XXI. AMID THE MISTS. 

So this was the sum of all our efforts, trials and disappointments!Not to speak of the destruction of the _Halbrane_, the expedition hadalready cost nine lives. From thirty-two men who had embarked on theschooner, our number was reduced to twenty-three: how low was thatfigure yet to fall?

Between the south pole and antarctic circle lay twenty degrees, andthose would have to be cleared in a month or six weeks at the most;if not, the iceberg barrier would be re-formed and closed-up. As forwintering in that part of the antarctic circle, not a man of uscould have survived it. 

Besides, we had lost all hope of rescuing the survivors of the _Jane_, and the sole desire of the crew was to escape as quickly as possiblefrom the awful solitudes of the south. Our drift, which had beensouth, down to the pole, was now north, and, if that directionshould continue, perhaps vle might be favoured with such goodfortune as would make up for all the evil that had befallen us! Inany case there was nothing for it but, in familiar phrase, “to letourselves go. ”

The mist did not lift during the end, 3rd, and 4th of February, andit would have been difficult to make out the rate of progress of ouriceberg since it had passed the pole. Captain Len Guy, however, andWest, considered themselves safe in reckoning it at two hundred andfifty miles. 

The current did not seem to have diminished in speed or changed itscourse. It was now beyond a doubt that we were moving between thetwo halves of a continent, one on the east, the other on the west, which formed the vast antarctic region. And I thought it was matterof great regret that we could not get aground on one or the otherside of this vast strait, whose surface would presently besolidified by the coming of winter. 

When I expressed this sentiment to Captain Len Guy, he made me theonly logical answer:

“What would you have, Mr. Jeorling? We are powerless. There isnothing to be done, and the persistent fog is the worst part of ourill luck. I no longer know where we are. It is impossible to take anobservation, and this befalls us just as the sun is about todisappear for long months. ”

“Let me come back to the question of the boat, ” said I, “forthe last time. Could we not, with the boat--”

“Go on a discovery cruise? Can you think of such a thing? Thatwould be an imprudence I would not commit, even though the crewwould allow me. ”

I was on the point of exclaiming: “And what if your brother andyour countrymen have found refuge on some spot of the land thatundoubtedly lies about us?”

But I restrained myself. Of what avail was it to reawaken ourcaptain’s grief? He, too, must have contemplated this eventuality, and he had not renounced his purpose of further search without beingfully convinced of the folly of a last attempt. 

During those three days of fog I had not caught sight of DirkPeters, or rather he had made no attempt to approach, but hadremained inflexibly at his post by the boat. Martin Holt’squestions respecting his brother Ned seemed to indicate that hissecret was known--at least in part, and the half-breed held himselfmore than ever aloof, sleeping while the others watched, andwatching in their time of sleep. I even wondered whether heregretted having confided in me, and fancied that he had aroused myrepugnance by his sad story. If so, he was mistaken; I deeply pitiedthe poor half-breed. 

Nothing could exceed the melancholy monotony of the hours which wepassed in the midst of a fog so thick that the wind could not liftits curtain. The position of the iceberg could not be ascertained. It went with the current at a like speed, and had it been motionlessthere would have been no appreciable difference for us, for the windhad fallen--at least, so we supposed--and not a breath wasstirring. The flame of a torch held up in the air did not flicker. The silence of space was broken only by the clangour of thesea-birds, which came in muffled croaking tones through the stiflingatmosphere of vapour. Petrels and albatross swept the top of theiceberg, where they kept a useless watch in their flight. In whatdirection were those swift-winged creatures--perhaps already driventowards the confines of the arctic region but the approach ofwinter--bound? We could not tell. One day, the boatswain, who wasdetermined to solve this question if possible, having mounted to theextreme top, not without risk of breaking his neck, came into suchviolent contact with a _quebranta huesos_--a sort of gigantic petrelmeasuring twelve feet with spread wings--that he was flung on hisback. 

“Curse the bird!” he said on his return to the camp, addressingthe observation to me. “I have had a narrow escape! A thump, anddown I went, sprawling. I saved myself I don’t know how, for I wasall but over the side. Those ice ledges, you know, slip throughone’s fingers like water. I called out to the bird, ‘Can’t youeven look before you, you fool?’ But what was the good of that?The big blunderer did not even beg my pardon!”

In the afternoon of the same day our ears were assailed by a hideousbraying from below. Hurliguerly remarked that as there were no assesto treat us to the concert, it must be given by penguins. Hithertothese countless dwellers in the polar regions had not thought properto accompany us on our moving island; we had not seen even one, either at the foot of the iceberg or on the drifting packs. There could be no doubt that they were there in thousands, for themusic was unmistakably that of a multitude of performers. Now thosebirds frequent by choice the edges of the coasts of islands andcontinents in high latitudes, or the ice-fields in theirneighbourhood. Was not their presence an indication that land wasnear?

I asked Captain Len Guy what he thought of the presence of thesebirds. 

“I think what you think, Mr. Jeorling, ” he replied. “Since wehave been drifting, none of them have taken refuge on the iceberg, and here they are now in crowds, if we may judge by their deafeningcries. From whence do they come? No doubt from land, which isprobably near. ”

“Is this West’s opinion?”

“Yes, Mr. Jeorling, and you know he is not given to vainimaginations. ”

“Certainly not. ”

“And then another thing has struck both him and me, which hasapparently escaped your attention. It is that the braying of thepenguins is mingled with a sound like the lowing of cattle. Listenand you will readily distinguish it. ”

I listened, and, sure enough, the orchestra was more full than I hadsupposed. 

“I hear the lowing plainly, ” I said; “there are, then, sealsand walrus also in the sea at the base. ”

“That is certain, Mr. Jeorling, and I conclude from the fact thatthose animals--both birds and mammals--very rare since we leftTsalal Island, frequent the waters into which the currents havecarried us. ”

“Of course, captain, of course. Oh! what a misfortune it is thatwe should be surrounded by this impenetrable fog!”

“Which prevents us from even getting down to the base of theiceberg! There, no doubt, we should discover whether there areseaweed drifts around us; if that be so, it would be another sign. ”

“Why not try, captain?”

“No, no, Mr. Jeorling, that might lead to falls, and I will notpermit anybody to leave the camp. If land be there, I imagine ouriceberg will strike it before long. ”

“And if it does not?”

“If it does not, how are we to make it?”

I thought to myself that the boat might very well be used in thelatter case. But Captain Len Guy preferred to wait, and perhaps thiswas the wiser course under our circumstances. 

At eight o’clock that evening the half-condensed mist was socompact that it was difficult to walk through it. The composition ofthe air seemed to be changed, as though it were passing into a solidstate. It was not possible to discern whether the fog had any effectupon the compass. I knew the matter had been studied bymeteorologists, and that they believe they may safely affirm thatthe needle is not affected by this condition of the atmosphere. Iwill add here that since we had left the South Pole behind noconfidence could be placed in the indications of the compass; it hadgone wild at the approach to the magnetic pole, to which we were nodoubt on the way. Nothing could be known, therefore, concerning thecourse of the iceberg. 

The sun did not set quite below the horizon at this period, yet thewaters were wrapped in tolerably deep darkness at nine o’clock inthe evening, when the muster of the crew took place. 

On this occasion each man as usual answered to his name except DirkPeters. 

The call was repeated in the loudest of Hurliguerly’s stentoriantones. No reply. 

“Has nobody seen Dirk Peters during the day?” inquired thecaptain. 

“Nobody, ” answered the boatswain. 

“Can anything have happened to him?”

“Don’t be afraid, ” cried the boatswain. “Dirk Peters is inhis element, and as much at his ease in the fog as a polar bear. Hehas got out of one bad scrape; he will get out of a second!”

I let Hurliguerly have his say, knowing well why the half-breed keptout of the way. 

That night none of us, I am sure, could sleep. We were smothered inthe tents, for lack of oxygen. And we were all more or less underthe influence of a strange sort of presentiment, as though our fatewere about to change, for better or worse, if indeed it could beworse. 

The night wore on without any alarm, and at six o’clock in themorning each of us came out to breathe a more wholesome air. 

The state of things was unchanged, the density of the fog wasextraordinary. It was, however, found that the barometer had risen, too quickly, it is true, for the rise to be serious. Presently othersigns of change became evident. The wind, which was growingcolder--a south wind since we had passed beyond the southpole--began to blow a full gale, and the noises from below wereheard more distinctly through the space swept by the atmosphericcurrents. 

At nine o’clock the iceberg doffed its cap of vapour quitesuddenly, producing an indescribable transformation scene which nofairy’s wand could have accomplished in less time or with greatersuccess. 

In a few moments, the sky was clear to the extreme verge of thehorizon, and the sea reappeared, illumined by the oblique rays ofthe sun, which now rose only a few degrees above it. A rolling swellof the waves bathed the base of our iceberg in white foam, as itdrifted, together with a great multitude of floating mountains underthe double action of wind and current, on a course inclining to thenor-’nor’-east. 

“Land!”

This cry came from the summit of the moving mountain, and DirkPeters was revealed to our sight, standing on the outermost block, his hand stretched towards the north. 

The half-breed was not mistaken. The land this time--yes!--it wasland! Its distant heights, of a blackish hue, rose within three orfour miles of us. 

 86° 12’ south latitude. 114° 17’ east longitude. 

The iceberg was nearly four degrees beyond the antarctic pole, andfrom the western longitudes that our schooner had followed tracingthe course of the _Jane_, we had passed into the eastern longitudes. 

CHAPTER XXII. IN CAMP. 

A little after noon, the iceberg was within a mile of the land. 

After their dinner, the crew climbed up to the topmost block, onwhich Dirk Peters was stationed. On our approach the half-breeddescended the opposite slope and when I reached the top he was nolonger to be seen. 

The land on the north evidently formed a continent or island ofconsiderable extent. On the west there was a sharply projectingcape, surmounted by a sloping height which resembled an enormousseal’s head on the side view; then beyond that was a wide stretchof sea. On the east the land was prolonged out of sight. 

Each one of us took in the position. It depended on thecurrent-whether it would carry the iceberg into an eddy which mightdrive it on the coast, or continue to drift it towards the north. Which was the more admissible hypothesis?

Captain Len Guy, West, Hurliguerly, and I talked over the matter, while the crew discussed it among themselves. Finally, it was agreedthat the current tended rather to carry the iceberg towards thenorthern point of land. 

“After all, ” said Captain Len Guy, “if it is habitable duringthe months of the summer season, it does not look like beinginhabited, since we cannot descry a human being on the shore. ”

“Let us bear in mind, captain, ” said I, “that the iceberg isnot calculated to attract attention as the _Halbrane_ would havedone. ”

“Evidently, Mr. Jeorling; and the natives, if there were any, would have been collected on the beach to see the _Halbrane_already. ”

“We must not conclude, captain, because we do not see anynatives--”

“Certainly not, Mr. Jeorling; but you will agree with me that theaspect of this land is very unlike that of Tsalal Island when thefane reached it; there is nothing here but desolation andbarrenness. ”

“I acknowledge that--barrenness and desolation, that is all. Nevertheless, I want to ask you whether it is your intention to goashore, captain?”

“With the boat?”

“With the boat, should the current carry cur iceberg away from theland. ”

“We have not an hour to lose, Mr. Jeorling, and the delay of a fewhours might condemn us to a cruel winter stay, if we arrived toolate at the iceberg barrier. ”

“And, considering the distance, we are not too soon, ” observedWest. 

“I grant it, ” I replied, still persisting. “But, to leave thisland behind us without ever having set foot on it, without havingmade sure that it does not preserve the traces of an encampment, ifyour brother, captain--his companions--”

Captain Len Guy shook his head. How could the castaways havesupported life in this desolate region for several months?

Besides, the British flag was hoisted on the summit of the iceberg, and William Guy would have recognized it and come down to the shorehad he been living. 

No one. No one. 

At this moment, West, who had been observing certain points ofapproach, said, --

“Let us wait a little before we come to a decision. In less thanan hour we shall be able to decide. Our speed is slackening, itseems to me, and it is possible that an eddy may bring us backobliquely to the coast. ”

“That is my opinion too, ” said the boatswain, “and if ourfloating machine is not stationary, it is nearly so. It seems to beturning round. ”

West and Hurliguerly were not mistaken. For some reason or other theiceberg was getting out of the course which it had followedcontinuously. A giratory movement had succeeded to that of drifting, owing to the action of an eddy which set towards the coast. 

Besides, several ice-mountains, in front of us, had just run agroundon the edge of the shore. It was, then, useless to discuss whetherwe should take to the boat or not. According as we approached, thedesolation of the land became more and more apparent, and theprospect of enduring six months’ wintering there would haveappalled the stoutest hearts. 

At five in the afternoon, the iceberg plunged into a deep rift inthe coast ending in a long point on the right, and there stuck fast. 

“On shore! On shore!” burst from every man, like a singleexclamation, and the men were already hurrying down the slope of theiceberg, when West commanded:

“Wait for orders!”

Some hesitation was shown--especially on the part of Hearne andseveral of his comrades. Then the instinct of discipline prevailed, and finally the whole crew ranged themselves around Captain Len Guy. It was not necessary to lower the boat, the iceberg being in contactwith the point. 

The captain, the boatswain, and myself, preceding the others, werethe first to quit the camp; ours were the first human feet to treadthis virgin and volcanic soil. 

We walked for twenty minutes on rough land, strewn with rocks ofigneous origin, solidified lava, dusty slag, and grey ashes, butwithout enough clay to grow even the hardiest plants. 

With some risk and difficulty, Captain Len Guy, the boatswain, and Isucceeded in climbing the hill; this exploit occupied a whole hour. Although evening had now come, it brought no darkness in its train. From the top of the hill we could see over an extent of from thirtyto forty miles, and this was what we saw. 

Behind us lay the open sea, laden with floating masses; a greatnumber of these had recently heaped themselves up against the beachand rendered it almost inaccessible. 

On the west was a strip of hilly land, which extended beyond oursight, and was washed on its east side by a boundless sea. It wasevident that we had been carried by the drift through a strait. 

Ah! if we had only had our _Halbrane_! But our sole possession was afrail craft barely capable of containing a dozen men, and we weretwenty-three!

There was nothing for it but to go down to the shore again, to carrythe tents to the beach, and take measures in view of a wintersojourn under the terrible conditions imposed upon us bycircumstances. 

On our return to the coast the boatswain discovered several cavernsin the granitic cliffs, sufficiently spacious to house us all andafford storage for the cargo of the _Halbrane_. Whatever might be ourultimate decision, we could not do better than place our materialand instal ourselves in this opportune shelter. 

After we had reascended the slopes of the iceberg and reached ourcamp, Captain Len Guy had the men mustered. The only missing man wasDirk Peters, who had decidedly isolated himself from the crew. Therewas nothing to fear from him, however; he would be with the faithtulagainst the mutinous, and under all circumstanceswe might count uponhim. When the circle had been formed, Captain Len Guy spoke, withoutallowing any sign of discouragement to appear, and explained theposition with the utmost frankness and lucidity, stating in thefirst place that it was absolutely necessary to lower the cargo tothe coast and stow it away in one of the caverns. Concerning thevital question of food, he stated that the supply of flour, preserved meat, and dried vegetables would suffice for the winter, however prolonged, and on that of fuel he was satisfied that weshould not want for coal, provided it was not wasted; and it wouldbe possible to economize it, as the hibernating waifs might bravethe cold of the polar zone under a covering of snow and a roof ofice. 

Was the captain’s tone of security feigned? I did not think so, especially as West approved of what he said. 

A third question raised by Hearne remained, and was well calculatedto arouse jealousy and anger among the crew. It was the question ofthe use to be made of the only craft remaining to us. Ought the boatto be kept for the needs of our hibernation, or used to enable us toreturn to the iceberg barrier?

Captain Len Guy would not pronounce upon this; he desired topostpone the decision for twenty-four or forty-eight hours. Theboat, carrying the provisions necessary for such a voyage, could notaccommodate more than eleven or, at the outside, twelve men. If thedeparture of the boat were agreed to, then its passengers must beselected by lot. The captain proceeded to state that neither West, the boatswain, I, nor he would claim any privilege, but would submitto the fortune of the lot with all the others. Both Martin Holt andHardy were perfectly capable of taking the boat to thefishing-grounds, where the whalers would still be found. 

Then, those to whom the lot should fall were not to forget theircomrades, left to winter on the eighty-sixth parallel, and were tosend a ship to take them off at the return of summer. 

All this was said in a tone as calm as it was firm. I must doCaptain Len Guy the justice to say that he rose to the occasion. 

When he had concluded--without any interruption even fromHearne--no one made a remark. There was, indeed, none to be made, since, in the given case, lots were to be drawn under conditions ofperfect equality. 

The hour of rest having arrived, each man entered the camp, partookof the supper prepared by Endicott, and went to sleep for the lasttime under the tents. 

Dirk Peters had not reappeared, and I sought for him in vain. 

On the following day, the 7th of February, everybody set to workearly with a will. The boat was let down with all due precaution tothe base of the iceberg, and drawn up by the men on a little sandybeach out of reach of the water. It was in perfectly good condition, and thoroughly serviceable. 

The boatswain then set to work on the former contents of the_Halbrane_, furniture, bedding, sails, clothing, instruments, andutensils. Stowed away in a cabin, these things would no longer beexposed to the knocking about and damage of the iceberg. The casescontaining preserved food and the casks of spirits were rapidlycarried ashore. 

I worked with the captain and West at this onerous task, and DirkPeters also turned up and lent the valuable assistance of his greatstrength, but he did not utter a word to anyone. 

Our occupation continual on the 8th, 9th, and 10th February, and ourtask was finished in the afternoon of the 10th. The cargo was safelystowed in the interior of a large grotto, with access to it by anarrow opening. We were to inhabit the adjoining grotto, andEndicott set up his kitchen in the latter, on the advice of theboatswain. Thus we should profit by the heat of the stove, which wasto cook our food and warm the cavern during the long days, or ratherthe long nights of the austral winter. 

During the process of housing and storing, I observed nothing toarouse suspicion in the bearing of Hearne and the Falklands men. Nevertheless, the half-breed was kept on guard at the boat, whichmight easily have been seized upon the beach. 

Hurliguerly, who observed his comrades closely, appeared lessanxious. 

On that same evening Captain Len Guy, having reassembled his people, stated that the question should be discussed on the morrow, addingthat, if it were decided in the affirmative, lots should be drawnimmediately. No reply was made. 

It was late, and half dark outside, for at this date the sun was onthe edge of the horizon, and would very soon disappear below it. 

I had been asleep for some hours when I was awakened by a greatshouting at a short distance. I sprang up instantly and darted outof lhe cavern, simultaneously with the captain and West, who hadalso been suddenly aroused from sleep. 

“The boat! the boat!” cried West. 

The boat was no longer in its place--that place so jealouslyguarded by Dirk Peters. 

After they had pushed the boat into the sea, three men had got intoit with bales and casks, while ten others strove to control thehalf-breed. 

Hearne was there, and Martin Holt also; the latter, it seemed to me, was not interfering. 

These wretches, then, intended to depart before the lots were drawn;they meant to forsake us. They had succeeded in surprising DirkPeters, and they would have killed him, had he not fought hard forlife. 

In the face of this mutiny, knowing our inferiority of numbers, andnot knowing whether he might count on all the old crew, Captain LenGuy re-entered the cavern with West in order to procure arms. Hearneand his accomplices were armed. 

I was about to follow them when the following words arrested mysteps. 

The half-breed, overpowered by numbers, had been knocked down, andat this moment Martin Holt, in gratitude to the man who saved hislife, was rushing to his aid, but Hearne called out to him, --

“Leave the fellow alone, and come with us!”

Martin Holt hesitated. 

“Yes, leave him alone, I say; leave Dirk Peters, the assassin ofyour brother, alone. ”

“The assassin of my brolher!”

“Your brother, killed on board the _Grampus_--”

“Killed! by Dirk Peters?”

“Yes! Killed and eaten--eaten--eaten!” repeated Hearne, whopronounced the hateful worms with a kind of howl. 

And then, at a sign from Hearne, two of his comrades seized MartinHolt and dragged him into the boat. Hearne was instantly followed byall those whom he had induced to join in this criminal deed. 

At that moment Dirk Peters rose from the ground, and sprang upon oneof the Falklands men as he was in the act of stepping on theplatform of the boat, lifted him up bodily, hurled him round hishead and dashed his brains out against a rock. 

In an instant the half-breed fell, shot in the shoulder by a bulletfrom Hearne’s pistol, and the boat was pushed off. 

Then Captain Len Guy and West came out of the cavern--the wholescene had passed in less than a minute--and ran down to the point, which they reached together with the boatswain, Hardy, Francis, andStern. 

The boat, which was drawn by the current, was already some distanceoff, and the tide was falling rapidly. 

West shouldered his gun and fired; a sailor dropped into the bottomof the boat. A second shot, fired by Captain Len Guy, grazedHearne’s breast, and the ball was lost among the ice-blocks at themoment when the boat disappeared behind the iceberg. 

The only thing for us to do was to cross to the other side of thepoint. The current would carry the wretches thither, no doubt, before it bore them northsyard. If they passed within range, and ifa second shot should hit Hearne, either killing or wounding him, hiscompanions might perhaps decide on coming back to us. 

A quarter of an hour elapsed. When the boat appeared at the otherside of the point, it was so far off that our bullets could notreach it. Hearne had already had the sail set, and the boat, impelled by wind and current jointly, was soon no more than a whitespeck on the face of the waters, and speedily disappeared. 

CHAPTER XXIII. FOUND AT LAST

The question of our wintering on the land whereon we had been thrownwas settled for us. But, after all, the situation was not changedfor those among the nine (now only remaining of the twenty-three)who should not have drawn the lot of departure. Who could speculateupon the chances of the whole nine? Might not all of them have drawnthe lot of “stay”? And, when every chance was fully weighed, wasthat of those who had left us the best? To this question there couldbe no answer. 

When the boat had disappeared, Captain Len Guy and his companionsretraced their steps towards the cavern in which we must live forall the time during which we could not go out, in the dread darknessof the antarctic winter. My first thought was of Dirk Peters, who, being wounded, could not follow us when we hurried to the other sideof the point. 

On reaching the cavern I failed to find the half-breed, Was heseverely wounded? Should we have to mourn the death of this man whowas as faithful to us as to his “poor Pym”?

“Let us search for him, Mr. Jeorling!” cried the boatswain. 

“We will go together, ” said the captain. “Dirk Peters would neverhave forsaken us, and we will not forsake him. ”

“Would he come back, ” said I, “now that what he thought wasknown to him and me only has come out?”

I informed my companions of the reason why the name of Ned Holt hadbeen changed to that of Parker in Arthur Pym’s narrative, and ofthe circumstances under which the half-breed had apprised me of thefact. At the same time I urged every consideration that mightexculpate him, dwelling in particular upon the point that if the lothad fallen to Dirk Peters, he would have been the victim of theothers’ hunger. 

“Dirk Peters confided this secret to you only?” inquired CaptainLen Guy. 

“To me only, captain. ”

“And you have kept it?”

“Absolutely. ”

“Then I cannot understand how it came to the knowledge ofHearne. ”

“At first, ” I replied, “I thought Hearne might have talked inhis sleep, and that it was by chance Martin Holt learned the secret. After reflection, however, I recalled to mind that when thehalf-breed related the scene on the _Grampus_ to me, he was in mycabin, and the side sash was raised. I have reason to think that theman at the wheel overheard our conversation. Now that man wasHearne, who, in order to hear it more clearly, let go the wheel, sothat the _Halbrane_ lurched--”

“I remember, ” said West. “I questioned the fellow sharply, andsent him clown into the hold. ”

“Well, then, captain, ” I resumed, “it was from that day thatHearne made up to Martin Holt. Hurliguerly called my attention tothe fact. ”

“Of course he did, ” said the boatswain, ”for Hearne, not beingcapable of managing the boat which he intended to seize, required amaster-hand like Holt. ”

“And so, ” I said, “he kept on urging Holt to question thehalf-breed concerning his brother’s fate, and you know how Holtcame at last to learn the fearful truth. Martin Holt seemed to bestupefied by the revelation. The others dragged him away, and now heis with them!” We were all agreed that things had happened as Isupposed, and now the question was, did Dirk Peters, in his presentstate of mind, mean to absent himself? Would he consent to resumehis place among us?

We all left the cavern, and after an hour’s search we came insight of Dirk Peters, whose first impulse was to escape from us. Atlength, however, Hurliguerly and Francis came up with him. He stoodstill and made no resistance. I advanced and spoke to him, theothers did the same. Captain Len Guy offered him his hand, which hetook after a moment’s hesitation. Then, without uttering a singleword, he returned towards the beach. 

From that day no allusion was ever made to the tragic story of the_Grampus_. Dirk Peters’ wound proved to be slight; he merely wrappeda piece of sailcloth round the injured arm, and went off to his workwith entire unconcern. 

We made all the preparation in our power for a prolongedhibernation. Winter was threatening us. For some days past the sunhardly showed at all through the mists. The temperature fell to 36degrees and would rise no more, while the solar rays, castingshadows of endless length upon the soil, gave hardly any heat. Thecaptain made us put on warm woollen clothes without waiting for thecold to become more severe. 

Icebergs, packs, streams, and drifts came in greater numbers fromthe south. Some of these struck and stayed upon the coast, which wasalready heaped up with ice, but the greater number disappeared inthe direction of the north-east. 

“All these pieces, ” said the boatswain, “will go to theclosing up of the iceberg wall. If Hearne and his lot of scoundrelsare not ahead of them, I imagine they will find the door shut, andas they have no key to open it with--”

“I suppose you think, boatswain, that our case is less desperatethan theirs?”

“I do think so, Mr. Jeorling, and I have always thought so. Ifeverything had been done as it was settled, and the lot had fallento me to go with the boat, I would have given up my turn to one ofthe others. After all, there is something in feeling dry groundunder our feet. I don’t wish the death of anybody, but if Hearneand his friends do not succeed in clearing the iceberg barrier--ifthey are doomed to pass the winter on the ice, reduced for food to asupply that will only last a few weeks, you know the fate thatawaits them!”

“Yes, a fate worse than ours!”

“And besides, ” said the boatswain, “even supposing they doreach the Antarctic Circle. If the whalers have already left thefishing-grounds, it is not a laden and overladen craft that willkeep the sea until the Australian coasts are in sight. ”

This was my own opinion, and also that of the captain and West. 

During the following four days, we completed the storage of thewhole of our belongings, and made some excursions into the interiorof the country, finding “all barren, ” and not a trace that anylanding had ever been made there. 

One day, Captain Len Guy proposed that we should give a geographicalname to the region whither the iceberg had carried us. It was namedHalbrane Land, in memory of our schooner, and we called the straitthat separated the two parts of the polar continent the _Jane_ Sound. 

Then we took to shooting the penguins which swarmed upon the rocks, and to capturing some of the amphibious animals which frequented thebeach. We began to feel the want of fresh meat, and Endicott’scooking rendered seal and walrus flesh quite palatable. Besides, thefat of these creatures would serve, at need, to warm the cavern andfeed the cooking-stove. Our most formidable enemy would be the cold, and we must fight it by every means within our power. It remainedto be seen whether the amphibia would not forsake Halbrane Land atthe approach of winter, and seek a less rigorous climate in lowerlatitudes. Fortunately there were hundreds of other animals tosecure our little company from hunger, and even from thirst, atneed. The beach was the home of numbers of galapagos--a kind ofturtle so called from an archipelago in the equinoctial sea, wherealso they abound, and mentioned by Arthur Pym as supplying food tothe islanders, It will be remembered that Pym and Peters found threeof these galapagos in the native boat which carried them away fromTsalal Island. 

The movement of these huge creatures is slow, heavy, and waddling;they have thin necks two feet long, triangular snake-like heads, andcan go without food for very long periods. 

Arthur Pym has compared the antarctic turtles to dromedaries, because, like those ruminants, they have a pouch just where the neckbegins, which contains from two to three gallons of cold freshwater. He relates, before the scene of the lot-drawing, that but forone of these turtles the shipwrecked crew of the _Grampus_ must havedied of hunger and thirst. If Pym is to be believed, some of thegreat turtles weigh from twelve to fifteen hundred pounds. Those ofHalbrane Land did not go beyond seven or eight hundred pounds, buttheir flesh was none the less savoury. 

On the 19th of February an incident occurred--an incident whichthose who acknowledge the intervention of Providence in humanaffairs will recognize as providential. 

It was eight o’clock in the morning; the weather was calm; the skywas tolerably clear; the thermometer stood at thirty-two degreesFahrenheit. 

We were assembled in the cavern, with the exception of theboatswain, waiting for our breakfast, which Endicott was preparing, and were about to take our places at table, when we heard a callfrom outside. 

The voice was Hurliguerly’s, and we hurried out. On seeing us, hecried, --

“Come--come quickly!”

He was standing on a rock at the foot of the hillock above the beachin which Halbrahe Land ended beyond the point, and his right handwas stretched out towards the sea. 

“What is it?” asked Captain Len Guy. 

“A boat. ”

“Is it the _Halbrane’s_ boat coming back?”

“No, captain--it is not. ”

Then we perceived a boat, not to be mistaken for that of ourschooner in form or dimensions, drifting without oars or paddle, seemingly abandoned to the current. 

We had but one idea in common--to seize at any cost upon thisderelict craft, which would, perhaps, prove our salvation. But howwere we to reach it? how were we to get it in to the point ofHalbrane Land?

While we were looking distractedly at the boat and at each other, there came a sudden splash at the end of the hillock, as though abody had fallen into the sea. 

It was Dirk Peters, who, having flung off his clothes, had sprungfrom the top of a rock, and was swimming rapidly towards the boatbefore we made him out. 

We cheered him heartily. I never beheld anything like that swimming. He bounded through the waves like a porpoise, and indeed hepossessed the strength and swiftness of one. What might not beexpected of such a man!

In a few minutes the half-breed had swum several cables’ lengthstowards the boat in an oblique direction. We could only see his headlike a black speck on the surface of the rolling waves. A period ofsuspense, of intense watching of the brave swimmer succeeded. Surely, surely he would reach the boat; but must he not be carriedaway with it? Was it to be believed that even his great strengthwould enable him, swimming, to tow it to the beach?

“After all, why should there not be oars in the boat?” said theboatswain. 

“He has it! He has it! Hurrah, Dirk, hurrah!” shoutedHurliguerly, and Endicott echoed his exultant cheer. 

The half-breed had, in fact, reached the boat and raised himselfalongside half out of the water. His big, strong hand grasped theside, and at the risk of causing the boat to capsize, he hoistedhimself up to the side, stepped over it, and sat down to draw hisbreath. 

Almost instantly a shout reached our cars. It was uttered by DirkPeters. What had he found? Paddles! It must be so, for we saw himseat himself in the front of the boat, and paddle with all hisstrength in striving to get out of the current. 

“Come along!” said the captain, and, turning the base of thehillock, we all ran along the edge of the beach between the blackishstones that bestrewed it. 

After some time, West stopped us. The boat had reached the shelterof a small projection at that place, and it was evident that itwould be run ashore there. 

When it was within five or six cables’ lengths, and the eddy washelping it on, Dirk Peters let go the paddles, stooped towards theafter-part of the boat, and then raised himself, holding up an inertbody. 

An agonized cry from Captain Len Guy rent the air!

“My brother--my brother!”

“He is living! He is living!” shouted Dirk Peters. 

A moment later, the boat had touched the beach, and Captain Len Guyheld his brother in his arms. 

Three of William Guy’s companions lay apparently lifeless in thebottom of the boat. 

And these four men were all that remained of the crew of the _Jane_. 

CHAPTER XXIV. ELEVEN YEARS IN A FEW PAGES. 

The heading of the following chapter indicates that the adventuresof William Guy and his companions after destruction of the Englishschooner, and the details of their history subsequent to thedeparture of Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters, are about to be narratedwith all possible brevity. 

We carried our treasure-trove to the cavern, and had happiness ofrestoring all four men to life. In reality, it was hunger, nothingbut hunger, which had reduced the poor fellows to the semblance ofdeath. 

On the 8th of February, 1828, the crew of the _Jane_, having no reasonto doubt the good faith of the population of Tsalal Island, or thatof their chief, Too-Wit, disembarked, in order to visit the villageof Klock-Klock, having previously put the schooner into a state ofdefense, leaving six men on board. 

The crew, counting William Guy, the captain, Arthur Pym, and DirkPeters, formed a body of thirty-two men armed with guns, pistols, and knives. The dog Tiger accompanied them. 

On reaching the narrow gorge leading to the village preceded andfollowed by the numerous warriors of Too Wit, the little companydivided, Arthur Pym, Dirk Peters, and Allen (the sailor) entering acleft in the hill-side with the intention of crossing it to theother side. From that moment their companions were never to see themmore. 

After a short interval a shock was felt. The opposite hill fell downin a vast heap, burying William Guy and his twenty-eight companions. 

Twenty-two of these unfortunate men were crushed to death on theinstant, and their bodies would never be found under that mass ofearth. 

Seven, miraculously sheltered in the depth of a great cleft of thehill, had survived the catastrophe. These were William Guy, Patterson, Roberts, Coyin, Trinkle, also Forbes and Sexton, sincedead. As for Tiger, they knew not whether he had perished in thelandslip, or whether he had escaped. There existed in the right sideof the hill, as well as in the left, on either side of the fissure, certain winding passages, and it was by crawling along these in thedarkness that William Guy, Patterson, and the others reached acavity which let in light and air in abundance. From this shelterthey beheld the attack on the _Jane_ by sixty pirogues, the defencemade by the six men on board; the invasion of the ship by thesavages, and finally the explosion which caused the death of a vastnumber of natives as well as the complete destruction of the ship. 

Too-Wit and the Tsalal islanders were at first terrified by theeffects of this explosion, but probably still more disappointed. Their instincts of pillage could not be gratified, because somevalueless wreckage was all that remained of the ship and her cargo, and they had no reason to suppose that any of the crew had survivedthe cleverly contrived collapse of the hill. Hence it came aboutthat Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters on the one side, and William Guy andhis companions on the other, were enabled to remain undisturbed inthe labyrinths of Klock-Klock, where they fed on the flesh ofbitterns--these they could catch with their hands--and the fruitof the nut-trees which grow on the hill-sides. They procured fire byrubbing pieces of soft against pieces of hard wood; there was aquantity of both within their reach. 

After a whole week of this confinement, Arthur Pym and thehalf-breed had succeeded, as we know, in leaving their hiding-place, securing a boat, and abandoning Tsalal Island, but William Guy andhis companions had not yet found an opportunity to escape. 

After they had been shut up in the labyrinth for twentyone days, thebirds on which they lived began to fail them, and they recognizedthat their only means of escaping hunger--(they had not to fearthirst, for there was a spring of fresh water in the interior of thehill)--was to go down again to the coast, lay hands upon a nativeboat, and get out to sea. Where were the fugitives to go, and whatwas to become of them without provisions?--these were questionsthat had to be asked, and which nobody could answer. Nevertheless, they would not have hesitated to attempt the adventure if they couldhave a few hours of darkness; but, at that time of year, the sun didnot as yet go down behind the horizon of the eighty-fourth parallel. 

Death would probably have put an end to their misery had not thesituation been changed by the following events. 

On the 22nd of February, in the morning, William Guy and Pattersonwere talking together, in terrible perplexity of mind, at theorifice of the cavity that opened upon the country. They no longerknew how to provide for the wants of seven persons, who were thenreduced to eating nuts only, and were suffering in consequence fromsevere pain in the head and stomach. They could see big turtlescrawling on the beach, but how could they venture to go thither, with hundreds of natives coming and going about their severaloccupations, with their constant cry of _tékéli-li_?

Suddenly, this crowd of people became violently agitated. Men, women, and children ran wildly about on every side. Some of thesavages even took to their boats as though a great danger were athand. What was happening?

William Guy and his companions were very soon informed. The cause ofthe tumult was the appearance of an unknown animal, a terriblequadruped, which dashed into the midst of the islanders, snapping atand biting them indiscriminately, as it sprang at their throats witha hoarse growling. 

And yet the infuriated animal was alone, and might easily have beenkilled by stones or arrows. Why then did a crowd of savages manifestsuch abject terror? Why did they take to flight? Why did they appearincapable of defending themselves against this one beast?

The animal was white, and the sight of it had produced thephenomenon previously observed, that inexplicable terror ofwhiteness common to all the natives of Tsalal. 

To their extreme surprise, William Guy and hie companions recognizedthe strange animal as the dog Tiger. 

Yes! Tiger had escaped from the crumbling mass of the hill andbetaken himself to the interior of the island, whence he hadreturned to Klock-Klock, to spread terror among the natives. ButTiger was no mere phantom foe; he was the most dangerous and deadlyof enemies, for the poor animal was mad, and his fangs were fatal!

This was the reason why the greater part of the Tsalal islanderstook to flight, headed by their chief, Too-Wit, and the Wampos, whoare the leading personages of Klock-Klock. It was under theseextraordinary circumstances that they abandoned their island, whither they were destined never to return. 

Although the boats carried off the bulk of the population, aconsiderable number still remained on Tsalal, having no means ofescape, and their fate accomplished itself quickly. Several nativeswho were bitten by Tiger developed hydrophobia rapidly, and attackedthe others. Fearful scenes ensued, and are briefly to be summed upin one dismal statement. The bones we had seen in or near Klock-Klockwere those of the poor savages, which had lain there bleaching foreleven years!

The poor dog had died after he had done his fell work, in a corneron the beach, where Dirk Peters found his skeleton and the collarbearing the name of Arthur Pym. 

Then, after those natives who could not escape from the island hadall perished in the manner described, William Guy, Patterson, Trinkle, Covin, Forbes, and Sexton ventured to come out of thelabyrinth, where they were on the verge of death by starvation. 

What sort of existence was that of the seven survivors of theexpedition during the eleven ensuing years?

On the whole, it was more endurable than might have been supposed. The natural products of an extremely fertile soil and the presenceof a certain number of domestic animals secured them against want offood; they had only to make out the best shelter for themselves theycould contrive, and wait for an opportunity of getting away from theisland with as much patience as might be granted to them. And fromwhence could such an opportunity come? Only from one of the chanceswithin the resources of Providence. 

Captain William Guy, Patterson, and their five companions descendedthe ravine, which was half filled with the fallen masses of thehill-face, amid heaps of scoria and blocks of black granite. Beforethey left this gorge, it occurred to William Guy to explore thefissure on the right into which Arthur Pym, Dirk Peters, and Allenhad turned, but he found it blocked up; it was impossible for him toget into the pass. Thus he remained in ignorance of the existence ofthe natural or artificial labyrinth which corresponded with the onehe had just left, and probably communicated with it under the drybed of the torrent. The little company, having passed the chaoticbarrier that intercepted the northern route, proceded rapidlytowards the north-west. There, on the coast, at about three milesfrom Klock-Klock, they established themselves in a grotto very likethat in our own occupation on the coast of Halbrane Land. 

And it was in this place that, during long, hopeless years, theseven survivors of the fane lived, as we were about to do ourselves, but under better conditions, for the fertility of the soil of Tsalalfurnished them with resources unknown in Halbrane Land. In reality, we were condemned to perish when our provisions should be exhausted, but they could have waited indefinitely--and they did wait. 

They had never entertained any doubt that Arthur Pym, Dirk Peters, and Allen had perished, and this was only too true in Allen’scase. How, indeed, could they ever have imagined that Pyro and thehalf-breed had got hold of a boat and made their escape from TsalalIsland?

So, then, as William Guy told us, not an incident occurred to breakthe monotony of that existence of eleven years--not even thereappearance of the islanders, who were kept away from Tsalal bysuperstitious terror. No danger had threatened them during all thattime; but, of course, as it became more and more prolonged, theylost the hope of ever being rescued. At first, with the return ofthe fine season, when the sea was once more open, they had thoughtit possible that a ship would be sent in search of the _Jane_. Butafter four or five years they relinquished all hope. 

There is no need for dwelling on this period, which extends from theyear 1828 to the year 1839. The winters were hard. The summer didindeed extend its beneficent influence to the islands of the Tsalalgroup, but the cold season, with its attendant snows, rains, andtempests, spared them none of its severity. 

During seven months Captain William Guy had not lost one of thosewho had come with him safe and sound out of the trap set for them atKlock-Klock, and this was due, no doubt, to their robustconstitutions, remarkable power of endurance, and great strength ofcharacter. Alas! misfortune was making ready to fall on them. 

The month of May had come--it corresponds in those regions to themonth of November in northern lands-and the ice-packs which thecurrent carried towards the north were beginning to drift pastTsalal. One day, one of the seven men failed to return to thecavern. They called, they waited, they searched for him. All was invain. He did not reappear; no doubt he had been drowned. He wasnever more seen by his fellow-exiles. 

This man was Patterson, the faithful companion of William Guy. 

Now, what William Guy did not know, but we told him, was thatPatterson--under what circumstances none would ever learn--hadbeen carried away on the surface of an iceblock, where he died ofhunger. And on that ice-block, which had travelled so far as PrinceEdward Island, the boatswain had discovered the corpse of theunfortunate man almost decomposed by the action of the warmer waters. 

When Captain Len Guy told his brother of the finding of the body ofPatterson, and how it was owing to the notes in his pocket-book thatthe _Halbrane_ had been enabled to proceed towards the antarctic seas, William Guy hid his face in his hands and wept. 

Other misfortunes followed upon this one. 

Five months after the disappearance of Patterson, in the middle ofOctober, Tsalal Island was laid waste from coast to coast by anearthquake, which destroyed the southwestern group almost entirely. William Guy and his companions must soon have perished on the barrenland, which no longer could give them food, had not the means ofleaving its coast, now merely an expanse of tumbled rocks, beenafforded them in an almost miraculous manner. Two days after theearthquake, the current carried ashore within a few hundred yards oftheir cavern a boat which had drifted from the island group on thesouth-west. 

Without the delay of even one day, the boat was laden with as muchof the remaining provisions as it could contain, and the six menembarked in it, bidding adieu for ever to the now uninhabitableisland. 

Unfortunately a very strong breeze was blowing; it was impossible toresist it, and the boat was driven southwards by that very samecurrent which had caused our iceberg to drift to the coast ofHalbrane Land. 

For two months and a half these poor fellows were borne across theopen sea, with no control over their course. It was not until the2nd of January in the present year (1840) that they sightedland--east of the _Jane_ Sound. 

Now, we already knew this land was not more than fifty miles fromHalbrane Land. Yes! so small, relatively, was the distance thatseparated us from those whom we had sought for in the antarcticregions far and wide, and concerning whom we had lost hope. 

Their boat had gone ashore far to the south-east of us. But on howdifferent a coast from that of Tsalal Island, or, rather, on one howlike that of Halbrane Land! Nothing was to be seen but sand andstones; neither trees, shrubs, nor plants of any kind. Theirprovisions were almost exhausted; William Guy and his companionswere soon reduced to extreme want, and two of the little company, Forbes and Sexton, died. 

The remaining four resolved not to remain a single day longer in theplace where they were doomed to die of hunger. They embarked in theboat with the small supply of food still remaining, and once moreabandoned themselves to the current, without having been able toverify their position, for want of instruments. 

Thus had they been borne upon the unknown deep for twenty-five days, their resources were completely exhausted, and they had not eatenfor forty-eight hours, when the boat, with its occupants lyinginanimate at the bottom of it, was sighted from Halbrane Land. Therest is already known to the reader of this strange eventful history. 

And now the two brothers were at length reunited in that remotecorner of the big world which we had dubbed Halbrane Land. 

CHAPTER XXV. “WE WERE THE FIRST. ”

Two days later not one of the survivors from the two schooners, the_Jane_ and the _Halbrane_, remained upon any coast of the Antarcticregion. 

On the 21st of February, at six o’clock in the morning, the boat, with us all (we numbered thirteen) in it, left the little creek anddoubled the point of Halbrane Land. On the previous day we had fullyand finally debated the question of our departure, with theunderstanding that if it were settled in the affirmative, we shouldstart without delay. 

The captain of the fane was for an immediate departure, and CaptainLen Guy was not opposed to it. I willingly sided with them, and Westwas of a similar opinion. The boatswain was inclined to oppose us. He considered it imprudent to give up a certainty for the uncertain, and he was backed by Endicott, who would in any case say “ditto”to his “Mr. Burke. ” However, when the time came, HurliguerlyConformed to the view of the majority with a good grace, anddeclared himself quite ready to set out, since we were all of thatway of thinking. 

Our boat was one of those in use in the Tsalal Archipelago forplying between the islands. We knew, from the narrative of ArthurPym, that these boats are of two kinds, one resembling rafts or flatboats, the other strongly-built pirogues. Our boat was of the formerkind, forty feet long, six feet in width, and worked by severalpaddles. 

We called our little craft the _Paracura_, after a fish which aboundsin these waters. A rough image of that denizen of the southern deepwas cut upon the gunwale. 

Needless to say that the greater part of the cargo of the _Halbrane_was left in our cavern, fully protected from the weather, at thedisposal of any shipwrecked people who might chance to be thrown onthe coast of Halbrane Land. The boatswain had planted a spar on thetop of this slope to attract attention. But, our two schoonersnotwithstanding, what vessel would ever venture into such latitudes?

_Nota Bene_. --We were just thirteen--the fatal number. Perfectlygood relations subsisted among us. We had no longer to dread therebellion of a Hearne. (How often we speculated upon the fate ofthose whom he had beguiled!)

At seven o’clock, the extreme point of Halbrahe Land lay fivemiles behind us, and in the evening we gradually lost sight of theheights that variated that part of the coast. 

I desire to lay special stress on the fact that not a single scrapof iron entered into the construction of this boat, not so much as anail or a bolt, for that metal was entirely unknown to the Tsalalislanders. The planks were bound together by a sort of liana, orcreeping-plant, and caulked with moss steeped in pitch, which wasturned by contact with the sea-water to a substance as hard as metal. 

I have nothing special to record during the week that succeeded ourdeparture. The breeze blew steadily from the south, and we did notmeet with any unfavourable current between the banks of the _Jane_Sound. 

During those first eight days, the Paracuts, by paddling when thewind fell, had kept up the speed that was indispensable for ourreaching the Pacific Ocean within a short time. 

The desolate aspect of the land remained the same, while the straitwas already visited by floating drifts, packs of one to two hundredfeet in length, some oblong, others circular, and also by icebergswhich our boat passed easily. We were made anxious, however, by thefact that these masses were proceeding towards the iceberg barrier, for would they not close the passages, which ought to be still openat this time?

I shall mention here that in proportion as Dirk Peters was carriedfarther and farther from the places wherein no trace ofhis poor Pymhad been found, he was more silent than ever, and no longer evenanswered me when I addressed him. 

It must not be forgotten that since our iceberg had passed beyondthe south pole, we were in the zone of eastern longitudes countedfrom the zero of Greenwich to the hundred and eightieth degree. Allhope must therefore be abandoned of our either touching at theFalklands, or finding whaling-ships in the waters of the SandwichIslands, the South Orkneys, or South Georgia. 

Our voyage proceeded under unaltered conditions for ten days. Ourlittle craft was perfectly sea-worthy. The two captains and Westfully appreciated its soundness, although, as I have previouslysaid, not a scrap of iron had a place in its construction. It hadnot once been necessary to repair its seams, so staunch were they. To be sure, the sea was smooth, its long, rolling waves were hardlyruffled on their surface. 

On the loth of March, with the same longitude the observation gave7° 13’ for latitude. The speed of the_ Paracuta_ had then beenthirty miles in each twenty-four hours. If this rate of progresscould be maintained for three weeks, there was every chance of ourfinding the passes open, and being able to get round the icebergbarrier; also that the whaling-ships would not yet have left thefishing-grounds. 

The sun was on the verge of the horizon, and the time wasapproaching when the Antarctic region would be shrouded in polarnight. Fortunately, in re-ascending towards the north we weregetting into waters from whence light was not yet banished. Then didwe witness a phenomenon as extraordinary as any of those describedby Arthur Pym. For three or four hours, sparks, accompanied by asharp noise, shot out of our fingers’ ends, our hair, and ourbeards. There was an electric snowstorm, with great flakes fallingloosely, and the contact produced this strange luminosity. The searose so suddenly and tumbled about so wildly that the _Paracuta_ wasseveral times in danger of being swallowed up by the waves, but wegot through the mystic-seeming tempest all safe and sound. 

Nevertheless, space was thenceforth but imperfectly lighted. Frequent mists came up and bounded our outlook to a fewcable-lengths. Extreme watchfulness and caution were necessary toavoid collision with the floating masses of ice, which weretravelling more slowly than the _Paracuta_. 

It is also to be noted that, on the southern side, the sky wasfrequently lighted up by the broad and brilliant rays of the polaraurora. 

The temperature fell very perceptibly, and no longer rose abovetwenty-three degrees. 

Forty-eight hours later Captain Len Guy and his brother succeededwith great difficulty in taking an approximate observation, with thefollowing results of their calculations:

 Latitude: 75° 17’ south. Latitude: 118° 3’ east. 

At this date, therefore (12th March), the _Paracuta_ was distant fromthe waters of the Antarctic Circle only four hundred miles. 

During the night a thick fog came on, with a subsidence of thebreeze. This was to be regretted, for it increased the risk ofcollision with the floating ice. Of course fog could not be asurprise to us, being where we were, but what did surprise us wasthe gradually increasing speed of our boat, although the falling ofthe wind ought to have lessened it. 

This increase of speed could not be due to the current for we weregoing more quickly than it. 

This state of things lasted until morning, without our being able toaccount for what was happening, when at about ten o’clock the mistbegan to disperse in the low zones. The coast on the westreappeared--a rocky coast, without a mountainous background; the_Paracuta_ was following its line. 

And then, no more than a quarter of a mile away, we beheld a hugemound, reared above the plain to a height of three hundred feet, with a circumference of from two to three hundred feet. In itsstrange form this great mound resembled an enormous sphinx; the bodyuptight, the paws stretched out, crouching in the attitude of thewinged monster which Grecian Mythology has placed upon the way toThebes. 

Was this a living animal, a gigantic monster, a mastodon a thousandtimes the size of those enormous elephants of the polar seas whoseremains are still found in the ice? In our frame of mind we mighthave believed that it was such a creature, and believed also thatthe mastodon was about to hurl itself on our little craft and crushit to atoms. 

After a few moments of unreasoning and unreasonable fright, werecognized that the strange object was only a great mound, singularly shaped, and that the mist had just rolled off its head, leaving it to stand out and confront us. 

Ah! that sphinx! I remembered, at sight of it, that on the nightwhen the iceberg was overturned and the _Halbrane_ was carried away, Ihad dreamed of a fabulous animal of this kind, seated at the pole ofthe world, and from whom Edgar Poe could only wrest its secrets. 

But our attention was to be attracted, our surprise, even our alarm, was evoked soon by phenomena still more strange than the mysteriousearth form upon which the mist-curtain had been raised so suddenly. 

I have said that the speed of the _Paracuta_ was gradually increasing;now it was excessive, that of the current remaining inferior to it. Now, of a sudden, the grapnel that had belonged to the _Halbrane_, andwas in the bow of the boat, flew out of its socket as though drawnby an irresistible power, and the rope that held it was strained tobreaking point. It seemed to tow us, as it grazed the surface of thewater towards the shore. 

“What’s the matter?” cried William Guy. “Cut away, boatswain, cut away!” shouted West, “or we shall be draggedagainst the rocks. ”

Hurliguerly hurried to the bow of the _Paracuta_ to cut away the rope. Of a sudden the knife he held was snatched out of his hand, the ropebroke, and the grapnel, like a projectile, shot off in the directionof the sphinx. 

At the same moment, all the articles on board the boat that weremade of iron or steel--cooking utensils, arms, Endicott’s stove, our knives, which were torn from out pockets--took flight after asimilar fashion in the same direction, while the boat, quickeningits course, brought up against the beach. 

What was happening? In order to explain these inexplicable things, were we not obliged to acknowledge that we had come into the regionof those wonders which I attributed to the hallucinations of ArthurPym?

No! These were physical facts which we had just witnessed, and notimaginary phenomenal!

We had, however, no time for reflection, and immediately upon ourlanding, our attention was turned in another direction by the sightof a boat lying wrecked upon the sand. 

“The _Halbrane’s_ boat!” cried Hurliguerly. It was indeed theboat which Hearne had stolen, and it was simply smashed to pieces;in a word, only the formless wreckage of a craft which has beenflung against rocks by the sea, remained. 

We observed immediately that all the ironwork of the boat haddisappeared, down to the hinges of the rudder. Not one trace of themetal existed. 

What could be the meaning of this?

A loud call from West brought us to a little strip of beach on theright of our stranded boat. 

Three corpses lay upon the stony soil, that of Hearne, that ofMartin Holt, and that of one of the Falklands men. 

Of the thirteen who had gone with the sealing-master, there remainedonly these three, who had evidently been dead some days. 

What had become of the ten missing men? Had their bodies beencarried out to sea?

We searched all along the coast, into the creeks, and between theoutlying rocks, but in vain. Nothing was to be found, no traces of acamp, not even the vestiges of a landing. 

“Their boat, ” said William Guy, “must have been struck by adrifting iceberg. The rest of Hearne’s companions have beendrowned, and only these three bodies have come ashore, lifeless. ”

“But, ” asked the boatswain, “how is the state the boat is into be explained?”

“And especially, ” added West, “the disappearance of all theiron?”

“Indeed, ” said I, “it looks as though every bit had beenviolently torn off. ”

Leaving the _Paracuta_ in the charge of two men, we again took our wayto the interior, in order to extend our search over a wider expanse. 

As we were approaching the huge mound the mist cleared away, and theform stood out with greater distinctness. It was, as I have said, almost that of a sphinx, a dusky-hued sphinx, as though the matterwhich composed it had been oxidized by the inclemency of the polarclimate. 

And then a possibility flashed into my mind, an hypothesis whichexplained these astonishing phenomena. 

“Ah!” I exclaimed, “a loadstone! that is it! A magnet withprodigious power of attraction!”

I was understood, and in an instant the final catastrophe, to whichHearne and his companions were victims, was explained with terribleclearness. 

The Antarctic Sphinx was simply a colossal magnet. Under theinfluence of that magnet the iron bands of the _Halbrane’s_ boat hadbeen torn out and projected as though by the action of a catapult. This was the occult force that had irresistibly attracted everythingmade of iron on the _Paracuta_. And the boat itself would have sharedthe fate of the _Halbrane’s_ boat had a single bit of that metalbeen employed in its construction. Was it, then, the proximity ofthe magnetic pole that produced such effects?

At first we entertained this idea, but on reflection we rejected it. 

At the place where the magnetic meridians cross, the only phenomenonproduced is the vertical position of the magnetic needle in twosimilar points of the terrestrial globe. This phenomenon, alreadyproved by observations made on the spot, must be identical in theAntarctic regions. 

Thus, then, there did exist a magnet of prodigious intensity in thezone of attraction which we had entered. Under our eyes one of thosesurprising effects which had hitherto been classed among fables wasactually produced. 

The following appeared to me to be the true explanation. 

The Trade-winds bring a constant succession of clouds or mists inwhich immense quantities of electricity not completely exhausted bystorms, are stored. Hence there exists a formidable accumulation ofelectric fluid at the poles, and it flows towards the land in apermanent stream. 

From this cause come the northern and southern auroras, whoseluminous splendours shine above the horizon, especially during thelong polar night, and are visible even in the temperate zones whenthey attain theix maximum of culmination. 

These continuous currents at the poles, which bewilder ourcompasses, must possess an extraordinary influence. And it wouldsuffice that a block of iron should be subjected to their action forit to be changed into a magnet of power proportioned to theintensity of the current, to the number of turns of the electrichelix, and to the square root of the diameter of the block ofmagnetized iron. Thus, then, the bulk of the sphinx which uprearedits mystic form upon this outer edge of the southern lands might becalculated by thousands of cubic yards. 

Now, in order that the current should circulate around it and make amagnet of it by induction, what was required? Nothing but a metalliclode, whose innumerable windings through the bowels of the soilshould be connected subterraneously at the base of the block. 

It seemed to me also that the place of this block ought to be in themagnetic axis, as a sort of gigantic calamite, from whence theimponderable fluid whose currents made an inexhaustible accumulatorset up at the confines of the world should issue. Our compass couldnot have enabled us to determine whether the marvel before our eyesreally was at the magnetic pole of the southern regions. All I cansay is, that its needle staggered about, helpless and useless. Andin fact the exact location of the Antarctic Sphinx mattered littlein respect of the constitution of that artificial loadstone, and themanner in which the clouds and metallic lode supplied its attractivepower. 

In this very plausible fashion I was led to explain the phenomenonby instinct. It could not be doubted that we were in the vicinity ofa magnet which produced these terrible but strictly natural effectsby its attraction. 

I communicated my idea to my companions, and they regarded thisexplanation as conclusive, in presence of the physical facts ofwhich we were the actual witnesses. 

“We shall incur no risk by going to the foot of the mound, Isuppose, ” said Captain Len Guy. 

“None, ” I replied. 

“There--yes--here!”

I could not describe the impression those three words made upon us. Edgar Poe would have said that they were three cries from the depthsof the under world. 

It was Dirk Peters who had spoken, and his body was stretched out inthe direction of the sphinx, as though it had been turned to ironand was attracted by the magnet. 

Then he sped swiftly towards the sphinx-like mound, and hiscompanions followed him over rough ground strewn with volcanicremains of all sorts. 

The monster grew larger as we neared it, but lost none of itsmythological shape. Alone on that vast plain it produced a sense ofawe. And--but this could only have been a delusionr--we seemed tobe drawn towards it by the force of its magnetic attraction. 

On arriving at the base of the mound, we found there the variousarticles on which the magnet had exerted its power; arms, utensils, the grapnel of the _Paracuta_, all adhering to the sides of themonster. There also were the iron relics of the _Halbrane’s_ boat, all her utensils, arms, and fittings, even to the nails and the ironportions of the rudder. 

There was no possibility of regaining possession of any of thesethings. Even had they not adhered to the loadstone rock at too greata height to be reached, they adhered to it too closely to bedetached. Hurliguerly was infuriated by the impossibility ofrecovering his knife, which he recognized at fifty feet above hishead, and cried as he shook his clenched fist at the imperturbablemonster, --

“Thief of a sphinx!”

Of course the things which had belonged to the _Halbrane’s_ boatand the _Paracuta’s_ were the only articles that adorned the mightysides of the lonely mystic form. Never had any ship reached such alatitude of the Antarctic Sea. Hearne and his accomplices, CaptainLen Guy and his companions, were the first who had trodden thispoint of the southern continent. And any vessel that might haveapproached this colossal magnet must have incurred certaindestruction. Our schooner must have perished, even as its boat hadbeen dashed into a shapeless wreck. 

West now reminded us that it was imprudent to prolong our stay uponthis Land of the Sphinx--a name to be retained. Time pressed, and afew days’ delay would have entailed our wintering at the foot ofthe ice-barrier. 

The order to return to the beach had just been given, when the voiceof the half-breed was again heard, as he cried out:

“There! There! There!”

We followed the sounds to the back of the monster’s right paw, andwe found Dirk Peters on his knees, with his hands stretched outbefore an almost naked corpse, which had been preserved intact bythe cold of these regions, and was as rigid as iron. The head wasbent, a white beard hung down to the waist, the nails of the feetand hands were like claws. 

How had this corpse been fixed to the side of the mound at six feetabove the ground?

Across the body, held in place by its cross-belt, we saw the twistedbarrel of’ a musket, half-eaten by rust. 

“Pym-my poor Pym!” groaned Dirk Peters. 

He tried to rise, that he might approach and kiss the ossifiedcorpse. But his knees bent under him, a strangled sob seemed to rendhis throat, with a terrible spasm his faithful heart broke, and thehalf-breed fell back--dead!

The story was easy to read. After their separation, the boat hadcarried Arthur Pym through these Antarctic regions! Like us, once hehad passed beyond the south pole, he came into the zone of themonster! And there, while his boat was swept along on the northerncurrent, he was seized by the magnetic fluid before he could get ridof the gun which was slung over his shoulder, and hurled against thefatal loadstone Sphinx of the Ice-realm. 

Now the faithful half-breed rests under the clay of the Land of theAntarctic Mystery, by the side of his “poor Pym, ” that herowhose strange adventures found a chronicler no less strange in thegreat American poet!

CHAPTER XXVI. A LITTLE REMNANT. 

That same day, in the afternoon, the _Paracuta_ departed from thecoast of the Land of the Sphinx, which had lain to the west of ussince the 21st of February. 

By the death of Dirk Peters the number of the passengers was reducedto twelve. These were all who remained of the double crew of the twoschooners, the first comprising thirty-eight men, the second, thirty-two; in all seventy souls. But let it not be forgotten thatthe voyage of the _Halbrane_ had been undertaken in fulfilment of aduty to humanity, and four of the survivors of the _Jane_ owed theirrescue to it. 

And now there remains but little to tell, and that must be relatedas succinctly as possible. It is unnecessary to dwell upon ourreturn voyage, which was favoured by the constancy of the currentsand the wind to the northern course. The last part of the voyage wasaccomplished amid great fatigue, suffering, and but it ended in oursafe deliverance from all these. 

Firstly, a few days after our departure from the Land the Sphinx, the sun set behind the western horizon reappear no more for thewhole winter. It was then the midst of the semi-darkness of theaustral night that the _Paracuta_ pursued her monotonous course. True, the southern polar lights were frequently visible; but they were notthe sun, that single orb of day which had illumined our horizonsduring the months of the Antarctic summer, and their capricioussplendour could not replace his unchanging light. That long darknessof the poles sheds a moral and physical influence on mortals which noone can elude, a gloomy and overwhelming impression almost impossibleto resist. 

Of all the _Paracuta’s_ passengers, the boatswain and Endicott onlypreserved their habitual good-humour; those two were equallyinsensible to the weariness and the peril of our voyage. I alsoexcept West, who was ever ready to face every eventuality, like aman who is always on the defensive. As for the two brothers Guy, their happiness in being restored to each other made them frequentlyoblivious of the anxieties and risks of the future. 

Of Hurliguerly I cannot speak too highly. He proved himself athoroughly good fellow, and it raised our drooping spirits to hearhim repeat in his jolly voice, --

“We shall get to port all right, my friends, be sure of that. And, if you only reckon things up, you will see that we have had moregood luck than bad. Oh, yes, I know, there was the loss of ourschooner! Poor _Halbrane_, carried up into the air like a balloon, then flung into the deep llke an avalanche! But, on the other hand, there was the iceberg which brought us to the coast, and the Tsalalboat which brought us and Captain William Guy and his threecompanions together. And don’t forget the current and the breezethat have pushed us on up to now, and will keep pushing us on, I’msure of that. With so many trumps in our hand we cannot possiblylose the game. The only thing to be regretted is that we shall haveto get ashore again in Australia or New Zealand, instead of castinganchor at the Kerguelens, near the quay of Christmas Harbour, infront of the Greea Cormorant. ”

For a week we pursued our course without deviation to east or west, and it was not until the 21st of March that the _Paracutis_ lostsight of Halbrane Land, being carried towards the north by thecurrent, while the coast-line of the continent, for such we areconvinced it is, trended in a round curve to the north-east. 

Although the waters of this portion of sea were still open, theycarried a flotilla of icebergs or ice-fields. Hence arose seriousdifficulties and also dangers to navigation in the midst of thegloomy mists, when we had to manoeuvre between these moving masses, either to find passage or to prevent our little craft from beingcrushed like grain between the millstones. 

Besides, Captain Len Guy could no longer ascertain his positioneither in latitude or longitude. The sun being absent, calculationsby the position of the stars was too complicated, it was impossibleto take altitudcs, and the _Paracuta_ abandoned herself to the actionof the current, which invariably bore us northward, as the compassindicated. By keeping the reckoning of its medium speed, however, weconcluded that on the 27th of March our boat was between thesixty-ninth and the sixty-eighth parallels, that is to say, someseventy miles only from the Antarctic Circle. 

Ah! if no obstacle to the course of our perilous navigation hadexisted, if passage between this inner sea of the southern zone andthe waters of the Pacific Ocean had been certain, the _Paracuta_ mighthave reached the extreme limit of the austral seas in a few days. But a few hundred miles more to sail, and the iceberg-barrier wouldconfront us with its immovable rampart, and unless a passage couldbe found, we should be obliged to go round it either by the east orby the west. 

Once cleared indeed--

Ah! once cleared, we should be in a frail craft upon the terriblePacific Ocean, at the period of the year when its tempests rage withredoubled fury and strong ships dread the might of its waves. 

We were determined not to think of this. Heaven would come to ouraid. We should be picked up by some ship. This the boatswainasserted confidently, and we were bound to believe the boatswain. 

For six entire days, until the and of April, the Paracura held hercourse among the ice-barrier, whose crest was profiled at analtitude of between seven and eight hundred feet above the level ofthe sea. The extremities were not visible either on the east or thewest, and if our boat did not find an open passage, we could notclear it. By a most fortunate chance a passage was found on theabove-mentioned date, and attempted, amid a thousand risks. Yes, werequired all the zeal, skill, and courage of our men and theirchiefs to accomplish such a task. 

At last we were in the South Pacific waters, but our boat hadsuffered severely in getting through, and it had sprung more thanone leak. We were kept busy in baling out the water, which also camein from above. 

The breeze was gentle, the sea more calm than we could have hoped, and the real danger did not lie in the risks of navigation. No, itarose from the fact that not a ship was visible in these waters, nota whaler was to be seen on the fishing-grounds. At the beginning ofApril these places are forsaken, and we arrived some weeks too late. 

We learned afterwards that had we arrived a little sooner, we shouldhave met the vessels of the American expedition. 

In fact, on the 1st of February, by 95° 50’ longitude and 64°17’ latitude, Lieutenant Wilkes was still exploring these seas inone of his ships, the _Vincennes_, after having discovered a longextent of coast stretching from east to west. On the approach of thebad season, he returned to Hobart Town, in Tasmania. The same year, the expedition of the French captain Dumont d’Urville, whichstarted in 1838, discovered Adélie Land in 66° 30’ latitude and38° 21’ east longitude, and Clarie Coast in 64° 30’ and 129°54’. Their campaign having ended with these important discoveries, the _Astrolabe_ and the _Zélée_ left the Antarctic Ocean and returnedto Hobart Town. 

None of these ships, then, were in those waters; so that, when ournutshell _Paracuta_ was “alone on a lone, lone sea” beyond theice-barrier, we were bound to believe that it was no longer possiblewe could be saved. 

We were fifteen hundred miles away from the nearest land, and winterwas a month old!

Hurliguerly himself was obliged to acknowledge the last fortunatechance upon which he had counted failed us. 

On the 6th of April we were at the end of our resources; the seabegan to threaten, the boat seemed likely to be swallowed up in theangry waves. 

“A ship!” cried the boatswain, and on the instant we made out avessel about four miles to the north-east, beneath the mist whichhad suddenly risen. 

Signals were made, signals were perceived; the ship lowered herlargest boat and sent it to our rescue. 

This ship was the _Tasman_, an American three-master, fromCharlestown, where we were received with eager welcome andcordiality. The captain treated my companions as though they hadbeen his own countrymen. 

The _Tasman_ had come from the Falkland Islands where the captain hadlearned that seven months previously the American schooner _Halbrane_had gone to the southern seas in search of the shipwrecked people ofthe _Jane_. But as the season advanced, the schooner not havingreappeared, she was given up for lost in the Antarctic regions. 

Fifteen days after our rescue the _Tasman_ disembarked the survivorsof the crew of the two schooners at Melbourne, and it was there thatour men were paid the sums they had so hardly earned, and so welldeserved. 

We then learned from maps that the _Paracuta_ had debouched into thePacific from the land called Clarie by Dumont d’Urville, and theland called Fabricia, which was discovered in 1838 by Bellenny. 

Thus terminated this adventurous and extraordinary expedition, whichcost, alas, too many victims. Our final word is that although thechances and the necessities of our voyage carried us farther towardsthe south pole than hose who preceded us, although we actually didpass beyond the axial point of the terrestrial globe, discoveries ofgreat value still remain to be made in those waters!

Arthur Pym, the hero whom Edgar Poe has made so famous, has shownthe way. It is for others to follow him, and to wrest the lastAntarctic Mystery from the Sphinx of the Ice-realm. 

THE END. 

End of the Voyage Extraordinaire