An Antarctic Mystery (13 page)

The birds which we saw, and which came from every point of the
horizon, were those I have already mentioned, petrels, divers,
halcyons, and pigeons in countless flocks. I also saw—but beyond
aim—a giant petrel; its dimensions were truly astonishing. This
was one of those called "quebrantahnesos" by the Spaniards. This
bird of the Magellanian waters is very remarkable; its curved and
slender wings have a span of from thirteen to fourteen feet, equal
to that of the wings of the great albatross. Nor is the latter
wanting among these powerful winged creatures; we saw the
dusky-plumed albatross of the cold latitudes, sweeping towards the
glacial zone.

On the 30th of November, after observation taken at noon, it was
found that we had reached 66° 23' 3" of latitude.

The
Halbrane
had then crossed the Polar Circle which circumscribes
the area of the Antarctic zone.

Since the
Halbrane
has passed beyond the imaginary curve drawn at
twenty-three and a half degrees from the Pole, it seems as though
she had entered a new region, "that region of Desolation and
Silence," as Edgar Poe says; that magic person of splendour and
glory in which the
Eleanora's
singer longed to be shut up to all
eternity; that immense ocean of light ineffable.

It is my belief—to return to less fanciful hypotheses—that the
Antarctic region, with a superficies of more than five millions of
square miles, has remained what our spheroid was during the glacial
period. In the summer, the southern zone, as we all know, enjoys
perpetual day, owing to the rays projected by the orb of light above
its horizon in his spiral ascent. Then, so soon as he has
disappeared, the long night sets in, a night which is frequently
illumined by the polar aurora or Northern Lights.

It was then in the season of light that our schooner was about to
sail in these formidable regions. The permanent brightness would not
fail us before we should have reached Tsalal Island, where we felt
no doubt of finding the men of the
Jane
.

When Captain Len Guy, West, and the old sailors of the crew learned
that the schooner had cleared the sixty-sixth parallel of latitude,
their rough and sunburnt faces shone with satisfaction. The next
day, Hurliguerly accosted me on the deck with a broad smile and a
cheerful 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 ships
on crossing the Line!"

"You regret that?"

"Certainly I do, and the
Halbrane
might have been allowed the
ceremony of a southern baptism."

"A baptism? And whom would you have baptized, boatswain, seeing
that all our men, like yourself, have already sailed beyond this
parallel?"

"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 my
travels 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 about
it, and leaving out old Father Neptune with his masquerade. If you
would 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 at
the nearest tavern."

"Then that will be Bennet Islet or Tsalal Island, provided there
are any taverns in those savage islands, and any Atkinses to keep
them."

"Tell me, boatswain—I always get back to Hunt—does he seem so
much pleased to have passed the Polar Circle as the
Halbrane's
old
sailors are?"

"Who knows? There's nothing to be got out of him one way or
another. But, as I have said before, if he has not already made
acquaintance with the ice-barrier."

"What makes you think so?"

"Everything and nothing, Mr. Jeorling. One feels these things; one
doesn't think them. Hunt is an old sea-dog, who has carried his
canvas bag into every corner of the world."

The boatswain's opinion was mine also, and some inexplicable
presentiment made me observe Hunt constantly, for he occupied a
large share of my thoughts.

Early in December the wind showed a north-west tendency, and that
was not good for us, but we would have no serious right to complain
so long as it did not blow due south-west. In the latter case the
schooner would have been thrown out of her course, or at least she
would 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 since
our departure from the New South Orkneys. Captain Len Guy was made
anxious by this alteration in the wind, and besides, the speed of
the
Halbrane
was manifestly lessened, for the breeze began to soften
on the 4th, and in the middle of the night it died away.

In the morning the sails hung motionless and shrivelled along the
masts. Although not a breath reached us, and the surface of the
ocean was unruffled, the schooner was rocked from side to side by
the long oscillations of the swell coming from the west.

"The sea feels something," said Captain Len Guy to me, "and
there must be rough weather on that side," he added, pointing
westward.

"The horizon is misty," I replied; "but perhaps the sun
towards noon—"

"The sun has no strength in this latitude, Mr. Jeorling, not even
in 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 and
everything, 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 the
icebergs the damage will not be to them. Therefore, if prudence
demands that we should go either to the east or to the west, we
shall 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, but
these were not yet of considerable extent or altitude. These packs
were easy to avoid; they could not interfere with the sailing of the
Halbrane
. But, although the wind had hitherto permitted her to keep
on her course, she was not advancing, and it was exceedingly
disagreeable to be rolling about in a rough and hollow sea which
struck our ship's sides most unpleasantly.

About two o'clock it was blowing a hurricane from all the points
of the compass. The schooner was terribly knocked about, and the
boatswain had the deck cleared of everything that was movable by her
rolling and pitching.

Fortunately, the cargo could not be displaced, the stowage having
been effected with perfect forecast of nautical eventualities. We
had not to dread the fate of the
Grampus
, which was lost owing to
negligence in her lading. It will be remembered that the brig turned
bottom upwards, and that Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters remained for
several days crouching on its keel.

Besides, the schooner's pumps did not give a drop of water; the
ship was perfectly sound in every part, owing to the efficient
repairs that had been done during our stay at the Falklands. The
temperature had fallen rapidly, and hail, rain, and snow thickened
and darkened the air. At ten o'clock in the evening—I must use
this word, although the sun remained always above the horizon—the
tempest increased, and the captain and his lieutenant, almost unable
to hear each other's voices amid the elemental strife,
communicated mostly by gestures, which is as good a mode as speech
between sailors.

I could not make up my mind to retire to my cabin, and, seeking the
shelter of the roundhouse, I remained on deck, observing the weather
phenomena, and the skill, certainty, celerity, and effect with which
the crew carried out the orders of the captain and West. It was a
strange and terrible experience for a landsman, even one who had
seen so much of the sea and seamanship as I had. At the moment of a
certain difficult manoeuvre, four men had to climb to the crossbars
of the fore-mast in order to reef the mainsail. The first who sprang
to the ratlines was Hunt. The second was Martin Holt; Burry and one
of the recruits followed them. I could not have believed that any
man could display such skill and agility as Hunt's. His hands and
feet hardly caught the ratlines. Having reached the crossbars first,
he stretched himself on the ropes to the end of the yard, while Holt
went to the other end, and the two recruits remained in the middle.

While the men were working, and the tempest was raging round us, a
terrific lurch of the ship to starboard under the stroke of a
mountainous 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 the
yard of the mainsail was plunged three or four feet into the crest
of 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 the
foam. The sailors rushed to the side and flung out one a rope,
another a cask, a third a spar—in short, any object of which
Martin Holt might lay hold. At the moment when I struggled up to my
feet I caught sight of a massive substance which cleft the air and
vanished in the whirl of the waves.

Was this a second accident? No! it was a voluntary action, a deed of
self-sacrifice. Having finished his task, Hunt had thrown himself
into the sea, that he might save Martin Holt.

"Two men overboard!"

Yes, two—one to save the other. And were they not about to perish
together?

The two heads rose to the foaming surface of the water.

Hunt was swimming vigorously, cutting through the waves, and was
nearing 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 be
the first to get into it, although at the risk of my life. But I
must have the order."

In unspeakable suspense the ship's crew and myself had witnessed
this scene. None thought of the position of the
Halbrane
, which was
sufficiently dangerous; all eyes were fixed upon the terrible waves.
Now fresh cries, the frantic cheers of the crew, rose above the roar
of the elements. Hunt had reached the drowning man just as he sank
out of sight, had seized hold of him, and was supporting him with
his left arm, while Holt, incapable of movement, swayed helplessly
about like a weed. With the other arm Hunt was swimming bravely and
making way towards the schooner.

A minute, which seemed endless, passed. The two men, the one
dragging the other, were hardly to be distinguished in the midst of
the surging waves.

At last Hunt reached the schooner, and caught one of the lines
hanging over the side.

In a minute Hunt and Martin Holt were hoisted on board; the latter
was laid down at the foot of the foremast, and the former was quite
ready to go to his work. Holt was speedily restored by the aid of
vigorous 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 with
a 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 towards
Martin Holt, whose eyes expressed the liveliest gratitude.

"Hunt," said he, "you have saved me. But for you I should have
been 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 many
compliments for a thing so simple, and quietly walked forward to
join his shipmates, who were working vigorously under the orders of
West.

Decidedly, this man was a hero in courage and self-devotion; but
equally decidedly he was a being impervious to impressions, and not
on that day either was the boatswain destined to know "the colour
of his words!"

For three whole days, the 6th, 7th, and 8th of December, the tempest
raged in these waters, accompanied by snow storms which perceptibly
lowered the temperature. It is needless to say that Captain Len Guy
proved himself a true seaman, that James West had an eye to
everything, that the crew seconded them loyally, and that Hunt was
always foremost when there was work to be done or danger to be
incurred.

In truth, I do not know how to give an idea of this man! What a
difference there was between him and most of the sailors recruited
at the Falklands, and especially between him and Hearne, the
sealing-master! They obeyed, no doubt, for such a master as James
West gets himself obeyed, whether with good or ill will. But behind
backs what complaints were made, what recriminations were exchanged
I All this, I feared, was of evil presage for the future.

Martin Holt had been able to resume his duties very soon, and he
fulfilled them with hearty good-will. He knew the business of a
sailor right well, and was the only man on board who could compete
with Hunt in handiness and zeal.