An Antarctic Mystery (18 page)

"Yes, yes," replied Hunt.

And this he affirmed with the strong conviction that Dirk Peters had
infused into his mind while the two were living togather in
Vandalia, in Illinois.

Now the question arose, was Hunt sane? Was it not he who had stolen
into my cabin in a fit of insanity—of this I had no doubt—and
murmured in my ear the words: "And Pym—poor Pym?"

Yes, and I had not been dreaming! In short, if all that Hunt had
just said was true, if he was but the faithful reporter of secrets
which had been entrusted to him by Dirk Peters, ought he to be
believed when he repeated in a tone of mingled command and
entreaty,—

"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 out
of 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 the
questions 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 Pym
is 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 the
exact truth?"

"None."

"Well, then, did it never occur to him that some of the crew of
the
Jane
might have remained on Tsalal Island?"

"No."

"He believed that William Guy and his companions must all have
perished in the landslip of the hill of Klock-Klock?"

"Yes, and from what he often repeated to me, Pym believed it
also."

"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 he
answered,—

"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, our
sailing-master, whose life he had saved at the risk of his own
during the tempest.

"Well!" resumed the captain, "do you not understand what I am
asking you?"

"Yes."

"Then answer me. When Dirk Peters left Illinois, did he finally
give 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 devoted
companion of Arthur Pym, he whom Captain Guy had so long sought for
in the United States, and whose presence was probably to furnish us
with a fresh reason for pursuing our daring campaign.

I shall not be at all surprised if my readers have already
recognized Dirk Peters in Hunt; indeed, I shall be astonished if
they have failed to do so. The extraordinary thing is that Captain
Len Guy and myself, who had read Edgar Poe's book over and over
again, did not see at once, when Hunt came on the ship at the
Falklands, that he and the half-breed were identical! I can only
admit that we were both blindfolded by some hidden action of Fate,
just when certain pages of that book ought to have effectually
cleared our vision.

There was no doubt whatever that Hunt really was Dirk Peters.
Although he was eleven years older, he answered in every particular
to the description of him given by Arthur Pym, except that he was no
longer "of fierce aspect." In fact, the half-breed had changed
with age and the experience of terrible scenes through which he had
passed; nevertheless, he was still the faithful companion to whom
Arthur Pym had often owed his safety, that same Dirk Peters who
loved him as his own son, and who had never—no, never—lost the
hope of finding him again one day amid the awful Antarctic wastes.

Now, why had Dirk Peters hidden himself in the Falklands under the
name of Hunt? Why, since his embarkation on the
Halbrane
, had he
kept up that
incognito
? Why had he not told who he was, since he was
aware of the intentions of the captain, who was about to make every
effort 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 of
the
Grampus
, who had killed Parker, the sailor, who had fed upon the
man's flesh, and quenched his thirst in the man's blood? To
induce 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 did
not rebel against the admission of it as a possibility. The
imploring cryof the half-breed, "Pym, poor Pym! he must not be
forsaken!" troubled me profoundly.

Assuredly, since I had resolved to take part in the expedition of
the
Halbrane
, I was no longer the same man!

A long silence had followed the astounding declaration of the
half-breed. None dreamed of doubting his veracity. He had said, "I
am Dirk Peters." He was Dirk Peters.

At length, moved by irresistible impulse, I said:

"My friends, before any decision is made, let us carefully
consider the situation. Should we not lay up everlasting regret for
ourselves if we were to abandon our expedition at the very moment
when it promises to succeed? Reflect upon this, captain, and you,
my companions. It is less than seven months since Patterson left
your countrymen alive on Tsalal Island. If they were there then, the
fact proves that for eleven years they had been enabled to exist on
the resources provided by the island, having nothing to fear from
the islanders, some of whom had fallen victims to circumstances
unknown to us, and others had probably transferred themselves to
some neighbouring island. This is quite plain, and I do not see how
any 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 his
people," I resumed, "it is because they have been obliged to
abandon Tsalal Island since Patterson's departure. Why? In my
belief, it was because the earthquake had rendered the island
uninhabitable. Now, they would only have required a native boat to
gain either another island or some point of the Antarctic continent
by the aid of the southern current. I hardly hesitate to assert that
all this has occurred; but in any case, I know, and I repeat, that
we shall have done nothing if we do not persevere in the search on
which 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, for
he felt that I was right, that by invoking the duties of humanity I
was 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 sea
is open, while we have two months of good weather to look for, and
nothing to fear from the southern winter. I certainly should not ask
you to brave its severity. And shall we hesitate, when the
Halbrane
is abundantly furnished, her crew complete and in good health? Shall
we take fright at imaginary dangers? Shall we not have courage to go
on, on, thither?"

And I pointed to the southern horizon. Dirk Peters pointed to it
also, with an imperative gesture which spoke for him.

Still, the eyes of all were fixed upon us, but there was no
response. I continued to urge every argument, and to quote every
example in favour of the safety of pursuing our voyage, but the
silence was unbrokenj and now the men stood with eyes cast down.

And yet I had not once pronounced the name of Dirk Peters, nor
alluded to Dirk Peters' proposal.

I was asking myself whether I had or had not succeeded in inspiring
my companions with my own belief, when Captain Len Guy spoke:

"Dirk Peters," he said, "doyou assert that Arthur Pym and you
after your departure from Tsalal Island saw land in the direction of
the south?"

"Yes, land," answered the half-breed. "Islands or
continent—understand me—and I believe that Pym, poor Pym, is
waiting there until aid comes to him."

"There, where perhaps William Guy and his companions are also
waiting," said I, to bring back the discussion to more practical
points.

Captain Len Guy reflected for a little while, and then spoke:

"Is it true, Dirk Peters," he asked, "that beyond the
eighty-fourth parallel the horizon is shut in by that curtain of
vapour which is described in the narrative? Have you seen—seen
with your own eyes—those cataracts in the air, that gulf in which
Arthur Pym's boat was lost?"

The half-breed looked from one to the other of us, and shook his big
head.

"I don't know," he said. "What are you asking me about,
captain? A curtain of vapour? Yes, perhaps, and also appearances of
land towards the south."

Evidently Dirk Peters had never read Edgar Poe's book, and very
likely did not know how to read. After having handed over Pym's
journal, he had not troubled himself about its publication. Having
retired to Illinois at first and to the Falklands afterwards, he had
no notion of the stir that the work had made, or of the fantastic
and baseless climax to which our great poet had brought those
strange adventures.

And, besides, might not Arthur Pym himself, with his tendency to the
supernatural, have fancied that he saw these wondrous things, due
solely to his imaginative brain?

Then, for the first time in the course of this discussion, West's
voice made itself heard. I had no idea which side he would take. The
first words he uttered were:

"Captain, your orders?"

Captain Len Guy turned towards his crew, who surrounded him, both
the old and the new. Hearne remained in the background, ready to
intervene if he should think it necessary.

The captain questioned the boatswain and his comrades, whose
devotion was unreservedly his, by a long and anxious look, and I
heard him mutter between his teeth,—

"Ah! if it depended only on me! if I were sure of the assent and
the help of them all!

"Then Hearne spoke roughly:

"Captain," said he, "it's two months since we left the
Falklands. Now, my companions were engaged for a voyage which was
not to take them farther beyond the icebergs than Tsalal Island."

"That is not so," exclaimed Captain Len Guy. "No! That is not
so. I recruited you all for an enterprise which I have a right to
pursue, so far as I please."

"Beg pardon," said Hearne, coolly, "but we have come to a
point which no navigator has ever yet reached, in a sea, no ship
except the
Jane
has ever ventured into before us, and therefore my
comrades and I mean to return to the Falklands before the bad
season. From there you can return to Tsalal Island, and even go on
to the Pole, if you so please."

A murmur of approbation greeted his words; no doubt the
sealing-master justly interpreted the sentiments of the majority,
composed of the new recruits. To go against their opinion, to exact
the obedience of these ill-disposed men, and under such conditions
to risk the unknown Antarctic waters, would have been an act of
temerity—or, rather, an act of madness—that would have brought
about some catastrophe.

Nevertheless, West, advancing upon Hearne, said to him in a
threatening tone, "Who gave you leave to speak?"

"The captain questioned us," replied Hearne. "I had a right to
reply."

The man uttered these words with such insolence that West, who was
generally so self-restrained, was about to give free vent to his
wrath, 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. What
is your opinion, Hurtiguerly?"

"It is very clear, captain," replied the boatswain. "I will
obey your orders, whatever they may be! It is our duty not to
forsake William Guy and the others so long as any chance of saving
them remains."

The boatswain paused for a moment, while several of the sailors gave
unequivocal 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, and
caught hold of his arm. He shook with anger, but kept silence.

The captain continued his questioning of the men, desiring to know
by name all those upon whom he might reckon. The old crew to a man
acquiesced in his proposals, and pledged themselves to obey his
orders implicitly and follow him whithersoever he chose to go.

Three only of the recruits joined those faithful seamen; these were
English sailors. The others were of Hearne's opinion, holding that
for them the campaign was ended at Tsalal Island. They therefore
refused to go beyond that point, and formally demanded that the ship
should be steered northward so as to clear the icebergs at the most
favourable period of the season.

Twenty men were on their side, and to constrain them to lend a hand
to the working of the ship if she were to be diverted to the south
would have been to provoke them to rebel. There was but one
resource: to arouse their covetousness, to strike the chord of
self-interest.

I intervened, therefore, and addressed them in a which placed the
seriousness of my proposal beyond a doubt.