An Antarctic Mystery (21 page)

Oh, that lot-drawing! The "short straws" were little splinters
of wood of uneven length which Arthur held in his hand. The shortest
was to designate him who should be immolated. And he speaks of the
sort of involuntary fierce desire to deceive his corn that he
felt—"to cheat" is the word he uses—but he did not
"cheat," and he asks pardon for having had the idea! Let us try
to put ourselves in his place!

He made up his mind, and held out his hand, closed on the four
slips. Dirk Peters drew the first. Fate favoured him. He had nothing
more to fear. Arthur Pym calculated that one more chance was against
him. Augustus Barnard drew in his turn. Saved, too, he! And now
Arthur Pym reckoned up the exact chances Parker and himself. At that
moment all the ferocity the tiger entered into his soul. He
conceived an intense and devilish hatred of his poor comrade, his
fellow-man.

Five minutes elapsed before Parker dared to draw. At length Arthur
Pym, standing with closed eyes, not knowing whether the lot was for
or against him, felt a hand seize his own. It was the hand of Dirk
Peters. Arthur Pym had escaped death. And then the half-breed upon
Parker and stabbed him in the back. The frightful repast
followed—immediately—and words are not sufficient to convey to
the 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 of
July, 1827, and vainly did I try to understand Dirk Peters' reason
for recalling it to my recollection.

"Well, Dirk Peters," I said, "I will ask you, since you were
anxious to hide your name, what it was that induced you to reveal
it, when the
Halbrane
was moored off Tsalal Island; why you did not
keep to the name of Hunt?"

"Sir—understand me—there was hesitation about going
farther—they wanted to turn back. This was decided, and then I
thought that by telling who I was—Dirk Peters—of the
Grampus
—poor Pym's companion—I should be heard; they would
belieye with me that he was still living, they would go in search of
him! And yet, it was a serious thing to do—to acknowledge that I
was Dirk Peters, he who had killed Parker! But hunger, devouring
hunger!"

"Come, come, Dirk Peters," said I, "you exaggerate! If the lot
had fallen to you, you would have incurred the fate of Parker. You
cannot 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, "and
as for me, I do not wish to know Parker's real name. Keep this
secret."

"No, I will tell it to you. It weighs too heavily on me, and I
shall 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 our
sailing-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 was
near 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 seized
Hearne by the collar of his jersey.

"Lieutenant—I don't know—"

"Yes, I tell you, you have let it go. A little more and the
schooner would have capsized under full sail."

"Gratian," cried West, calling one of the sailors, "take the
helm; and you, Hearne, go down into the hold."

On a sudden the cry of "Land!" resounded, and every eye was
turned southwards.

"Land" is the only word to be found at the beginning of the
nineteenth chapter of Edgar Poe's book. I thought it would be a
good idea—placing after it a note of interrogation—to put it as
a heading to this portion of our narrative.

Did that word, dropped from our fore-masthead, indicate an island or
a continent? And, whether a continent or an island, did not a
disappointment await us? Could they be there whom we had come to
seek? And Arthur Pym, who was dead, unquestionably dead, in spite of
Dirk Peters' assertions, had he ever set foot on this land?

When the welcome word resounded on board the
Jane
on the 17th
January, 1828—(a day full of incidents according to Arthur Pym's
diary)—it was succeeded by "Land on the starboard bow!" Such
might have been the signal from the masthead of the
Halbrane
.

The outlines of land lightly drawn above the sky line were visible
on this side.

The land announced to the sailors of the fane was the wild and
barren Bennet Islet. Less than one degree south of it lay Tsalal
Island, then fertile, habitable and inhabited, and on which Captain
Len Guy had hoped to meet his fellow-countrymen. But what would this
unknown island, five degrees farther off in the depths of the
southern sea, be for our schooner? Was it the goal so ardently
desired and so earnestly sought for? Were the two brothers, William
and Len Guy, to meet at this place Would the
Halbrane
come there to
the end of a voyage whose success would be definitely secured by the
restoration of the survivors of the fane to their country?

I repeat that I was just like the half-breed. Our aim was not merely
to discover the survivors, nor was success in this matter the only
success we looked for. However, since land was before our eyes, we
must get nearer to it first.

That cry of "Land" caused an immediate diversion of our
thoughts. I no longer dwelt upon the secret Dirk Peters had just
told me—and perhaps the half-breed forgot it also, for he rushed
to 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 crew
protested against it, for Hearne's inattention awkwardness had
really 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 to
their posts.

Needless to say, Captain Len Guy, upon hearing the cry of the
look-out man, had tumbled up from his cabin: and eagerly examined
this land at ten or twelve miles distance.

As I have said, I was no longer thinking about the secret Dirk
Peters had confided to me. Besides, so long as the secret remained
between us two—and neither would betray it—there would be
nothing to fear. But if ever an unlucky accident were to reveal to
Martin 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 from
perishing of hunger; that Dirk Peters, to whom Martin Holt himself
owed his life, had killed him with his own hand, what might not
happen then? This was the reason why the half-breed shrank from any
expression of thanks from Martin Holt—why he avoided Martin Holt,
the victim's brother.

The boatswain had just struck six bells. The schooner was sailing
with the caution demanded by navigation in unknown seas. There might
be shoals or reefs barely hidden under the surface on which she
might run aground or be wrecked. As things stood with the
Halbrane
,
and even admitting that she could be floated again, an accident
would have rendered her return impossible before the winter set in.
We had urgent need that every chance should be in our favour and not
one against us.

West had given orders to shorten sail. When the boatswain had furled
the top-gallant-sail, the top-sail and royal, the
Halbrane
remained
under her mainsail, her fore-sail and her jib: sufficient canvas to
cover the distance that separated her from land in a few hours.
Captain Len Guy immediately heaved the lead, which showed a depth of
twenty fathoms. Several other soundings showed that the coast, which
was very steep, was probably prolonged like a wall under the water.
Nevertheless, as the bottom might happen to rise sharply instead of
following the slope of the coast, we did not venture to proceed out
the sounding line in hand.

The weather was still beautiful, although the sky was overcast by a
mist from south-east to souih-west. Owing to this there was some
difficulty in identifying the vague outlines which stood out like
floating vapour in the sky, disappearing and then reappearing
between the breaks of the mist.

However, we all agreed to regard this land as from twenty-five to
thirty fathoms in height, at least at its highest part.

No! we would not admit that we were the victims of a delusion, and
yet our uneasy minds feared that it might so!

Is it not natural, after all, for the heart to be assailed by a
thousand apprehensions as we near the end of any enterprise? At this
thought my mind became confused and dreamy. The
Halbrane
seemed to
be reduced to the dimensions of a small boat lost in this boundless
space—the contrary of that limitless sea of which Edgar Poe
speaks, where, like a living body, the ship grows larger.

When we have charts, or even sailing directions instruct us
concerning the hydrography of the coasts, the nature of the
landfalls, the bays and the creeks, we may sail along boldly. In
every other region, the master of a ship must not defer the order to
cast anchor near the shore until the morrow. But, where we were,
what an amount of prudence was necessary! And yet, no manifest
obstacle was before us. Moreover, we had no cause to fear that the
light would fail us during the sunny the night. At this season the
sun did not set so soon under the western horizon, and its rays
bathed the vast Antarctic zone in unabated light.

From that day forward the ship's log recorded that the temperature
fell continuously. The thermometer in the air and in the shade did
not mark more than 32° (0° C.), and when plunged into water it
only indicated 26° (3° 33' C. below 0°). What could be the
cause of this fall, since we were at the height of the southern
summer? 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 less
keenly felt. Yet we recognized the necessity of reaching our goal as
soon as possible. To linger in this region or to expose ourselves to
the danger of wintering out would be to tempt Providence!

Captain Len Guy tested the direction of the current by heavy lead
lines, and discovered that it was beginning to deviate from its
former course.

"Whether it is a continent," said he, "that lies before us, or
whether 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 issue
towards the south-east."

"And it is quite possible," I replied, "that the solid part of
the Antarctic region may be reduced to a mere polar mound. In any
case, it is well to note any of those observations which are likely
to be accurate."

"That is just what I am doing, Mr. Jeorling, and we shall bring
back a mass of information about this portion of the southern sea
which will prove useful to navigators."

"If ever any venture to come so far south, captain! We have
penetrated so far, thanks to the help of particular circumstances,
the earliness of the summer season, an abnormal temperature and a
rapid thaw. Such conditions may only occur once in twenty or fifty
years!"

"Wherefore, Mr. Jeorling, I thank Providence for this, and hope
revives in me to some extent. As the weather has been constantly
fine, what is there to make it impossible for my brother and my
fellow-countrymen to have landed on this coast, whither the wind and
the tide bore them? What our schooner has done, their boat may have
done! They surely did not start on a voyage which might prolonged to
an indefinite time without a proper supply of provisions! Why should
they not have found the resources as those afforded to them by the
island of Tsalal during many long years? They had ammunition and
arms elsewhere. Fish abound in these waters, water-fowl also. Oh
yes! my heart is full of hope, and I wish I were a few hours
older!"

Without being quite so sanguine as Len Guy, I was glad to see he had
regained his hopeful mood. Perhaps, if his investigations were
successful, I might be able to have them continued in Arthur Pym's
interest—even into the heart of this strange land which we were
approaching.

The
Halbrane
was going along slowly on these clear waters, which
swarmed with fish belonging to the same species as we had already
met. The sea-birds were more numerous, and were evidently not
frightened; for they kept flying round the mast, or perching in the
yards. Several whitish ropes about five or six feet long were
brought on board. They were chaplets formed of millions of
shell-fish.

Whales, spouting jets of feathery water from their blow-holes,
appeared at a distance, and I remarked that all them took a
southerly direction. There was therefore reason to believe that the
sea extended far and wide in that direction.

The schooner covered two or three miles of her course without any
increase of speed. This coast evidently Stretched from north-west to
south-east. Nevertheless, the telescopes revealed no distinctive
features—even after three hours' navigation.