 CHAPTER VII Tristan Dachuna. Four days later the Halbrain neared that curious island of Tristan Dachuna, which may be described as the big boiler of the African seas. By that time I had come to realize that the hallucination of Captain Lengai was a truth, and that he and the captain of the Jain, also a reality, were connected with each other by this ocean-wave from the authentic expedition of Arthur Pym. My last doubts were buried in the depths of the ocean with the body of Patterson. And now what was Captain Lengai going to do? There was not a shadow of doubt on that point. He would take the Halbrain to Zalal Island, as marked upon Patterson's notebook. His lieutenant, James West, would go with or soever he was ordered to go. His crew would not hesitate to follow him, and would not be stopped by any fear of passing the limits assigned to human power, for the soul of their captain and the strength of their lieutenant would be in them. This then was the reason why Captain Lengai refused to take passengers on board his ship, and why he had told me that his routes never were certain. He was always hoping that an opportunity for venturing into the sea of ice might arise. Who could tell indeed whether he would not have sailed for the south at once, without putting in at Tristan de Chuna, if he had not wanted water? After what I had said before I went on board the Halbrain, I should have had no right to insist on his proceeding to the island for the sole purpose of putting me ashore. But a supply of water was indispensable, and besides it might be possible there to put the schooner in a condition to contend with the icebergs and gain the open sea, since open it was beyond the 82nd parallel, in fact to attempt what Lieutenant Wilkes of the American Navy was then attempting. The navigators knew at this period that from the middle of November to the beginning of March was the limit during which some success might be looked for. The temperature is more bearable then, storms are less frequent, the icebergs break loose from the mass, the ice wall has holes in it, and perpetual day rains in that distant region. Tristan de Chuna lies to the south of the zone of the regular south-west winds. Its climate is mild and moist. The prevailing winds are west and north-west, and during the winter, August and September, south. The island was inhabited from 1811 by American whale-fishers, after them English soldiers were installed there to watch the St. Helena seas, and these remained until after the death of Napoleon in 1821. Several years later the group of islands populated by Americans and Dutchmen from the Cape acknowledged the suzerainty of Great Britain, but this was not so in 1839. My personal observation at that date convinced me that the possession of Tristan de Chuna was not worth disputing. In the sixteenth century the islands were called the land of life. On the fifth of September in the morning the towering volcano of the chief island was signalled, a huge snow-covered mass whose crater formed the basin of a small lake. Next day on our approach we could distinguish a vast, heaped-up lava field. At this distance the surface of the water was striped with gigantic sea-weeds, vegetable ropes 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 finding of the fragment of ice Captain Langey came on deck for strictly nautical purposes only, and I had no opportunity of seeing him except at meals, when he maintained silence, that not even James West could have enticed him to break. I made no attempt to do this, being convinced that the hour would come when Langey would again speak to me of his brother, and of the efforts which he intended to make to save him and his companions. Now I repeat, the season being considered, that hour had not come when the schooner cast anchor on the sixth of Septemberet and seedling in Falmouth Bay, precisely in the place indicated in Arthur Pym's narrative as the moorings of the Jane. At that period of the arrival of the Jane an ex-corporal of the English artillery named Glass reigned over a little colony of twenty-six individuals who traded with the Cape and whose only vessel was a small schooner. At our arrival this Glass had more than fifty subjects and was, as Arthur Pym remarked, quite independent of the British government. Relations with the ex-corporal were established on the arrival of the Howe brain, and he proved very friendly and obliging. West to whom the Captain left the business of refilling the water-tanks and taking in supplies of fresh meat and vegetables, had every reason to be satisfied with Glass, who, no doubt, 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 his intelligent vivacity. Independently of his trade with the Cape and the Falklands, he did an important business in seal-skins and the oil of marine animals, and his affairs were prosperous. As he appeared very willing to talk, I entered briskly into conversation with this self-appointed governor of a contented little colony by asking him, Do many ships put in to Trisindar Chuna? As many as we require, he replied, rubbing his hands together behind his back, according to his invariable custom. In the fine season? Yes, in the fine season, if indeed we can be said to have any other in these latitudes. I congratulate you, Mr. Glass, but it is to be regretted that Trisindar Chuna has not a single port, if you possessed a landing-stage now. For which purpose, sir, when nature has provided us with such a bay as this, where there is shelter from gales, and it is easy to lie snug right up against the rocks? No, Tristan has no port and Tristan can do without one. Why should I have contradicted this good man? He was proud of his island, just as the Prince of Monaco is justly proud of his tiny principality. I did not persist, and we talked of various things. He offered to arrange 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 my leisure on land in some mineralogical studies. Besides, the howl-brain 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 of buying skins or oil from me. We require only fresh victuals and fresh water, Mr. Glass. Very well, replied the Governor, who is rather annoyed. What the howl-brain 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 at Tristan de Chuna for some weeks, but I have had to relinquish that project. Oh, I am sorry to hear it, sir. We would have been happy to offer you hospitality while awaiting the arrival of another ship. Such hospitality would have been most valuable to me, I replied, but unfortunately I cannot avail myself of it. In fact I had finally resolved not to quit the schooner, but to embark for America from the Falkland Islands without much delay. I felt sure that Captain Langeye would not refuse to take me to the islands. 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 his hair. 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 has sent his lieutenant to represent him. Oh, he is a cheerful person. One may extract two words from him occasionally. Fortunately, it is easier to get coin out of his pocket than speech out of his lips. That's the important thing, Mr. Glass. You are right, sir, Mr. Jorling of Connecticut, I believe. I assented. So I know your name, while I have yet to learn that of the captain of the hell-brain. His name is Guy, Len Guy. An Englishman. Yes, an Englishman. He might have taken the trouble to pay a visit to a countryman of his, Mr. Jorling. But stay, I had some dealings formerly with a captain 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 de Chuna eleven years ago? Eleven years, Mr. Jorling, I had been settled in the island where Captain Jeffrey, of the barrack of London, found to me in the year 1824, for full seven years. I perfectly recall this William Guy, as if he were before me. He was a fine, open-hearted fellow, and I sold to Macargo 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 mooring, in the same place as the hell-brain. She was a handsome vessel of one hundred and eighty tons, very slender fords. She belonged to the port of Liverpool. Yes, that is true. All that is true. And is this Jane still afloat, Mr. Jorling? No, Mr. Glass. Was she lost? The fact is only too true, and the greater part of her crew with her. Will you tell me how this happened? Willingly, on leaving Tristan to Tuna, the Jane headed for the bearings of the Aurora and other islands which William Guy hoped to recognize from information. That came from me, interrupted the ex-corporal, and those other islands may I learn whether the Jane discovered them? No, nor the Aurora's either, although William Guy remained several weeks in these waters, running from east to west, with a lookout always at the masthead. He must have lost his bearings, Mr. Jorling, for if several whalers who were well deserving of credit are to be believed, these islands do exist, and it was even proposed to give them my name. That would have been but just, I replied politely. It will be very vexatious if they are not discovered some day, added the Governor, in a tone which indicated that he was not devoid of vanity. It was then, I resumed, that Captain Guy resolved to carry out a project he had long cherished, and in which he was encouraged by a certain passenger who was on board the Jane. Arthur Gordon Pym exclaimed Glass, and his companion won, Dirk Peters. The two had been picked up at sea by the schooner. You knew them, Mr. Glass? I asked eagerly. Knew them, Mr. Jorling? I should think I did indeed. That Arthur Pym was a strange person, always wanting to rush into adventures. A real rash American, quite capable of starting off to the 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 got further than any ship had ever done before. What a wonderful feat! Yes, unfortunately the Jane did not return. Arthur Pym and William 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 Arthur Pym died, but under what circumstances I am ignorant. As for the half-breed, after having retired to Illinois, he went off one day without 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 captain of the Jane and five of his companions were still living on an island in the Austral regions, at less than six degrees from the pole. Ah, Mr. Jorling! cried Glass, if some day William Guy and his sailors might be saved. They seemed to me to be such fine fellows. This is what the half-brain is certainly going to attempt, so soon as she is ready, for her captain, Len Guy, is William Guy's own brother. Is it possible? Well, although I do not know Captain Len Guy, I venture to assert that the brothers do not resemble each other, at least in their behaviour, to the Governor of Tristan Tatuna. It was plain that the Governor was profoundly mortified, but no doubt he consoled himself by the prospect of selling his goods at twenty-five percent above their value. One thing was certain, Captain Len Guy had no intention of coming ashore. This was some more singular in as much as he could not be unaware that the Jane had put in at Tristan Tatuna before proceeding to the Southern Seas. Surely he might have been expected, to put himself in communication with the last European who had shaken hands with his brother. Nevertheless Captain Len Guy remained persistently on board his ship, without even going on deck, and, looking through the glass skylight of his cabin, I saw him perpetually stooping over the table, which was covered with open books and outspread charts. No doubt the charts were those of the Austro-Latitudes, and the books were the narratives of the precursors of the Jane in those mysterious regions of the South. On the table lay also a volume which had been read and reread a hundred times. Most of its pages were dogseered, and their margins were filled with penciled notes. Read on the cover, shone the title in brightly gilded letters. The Adventures of Arthur Gordon Pym. CHAPTER VIII. Bound for the Falklands On the eighth of September, in the evening, I had taken leave of His Excellency the Governor-General of the Archipelago of Tristan, Tatuna. For such is the official title, bestowed upon himself by that excellent fellow, Glass, ex-corpal of artillery in the British Army. On the following day, before dawn, the Halbrane sailed. After we had rounded Harold Point, the few houses of Ancidlung disappeared behind the extremity of Thalmouth Bay. A fine breeze from the 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 it took the entire day to lose sight of the volcano of Tristan, Tatuna, which is eight thousand feet high. Its snow-clad bulk was at last veiled by the shades of evening. During that week our voyage proceeded under the most favourable conditions. If these were maintained the end of the month of September ought to bring us within sight of the first peaks of the Falkland group, and so very sensibly towards the south, the schooner having descended from the thirty-eighth parallel to the fifty-fifth degree of latitude. The most daring, or perhaps I ought to say, the most lucky of those discoverers who had preceded the howl-brain under the command of Captain Len Guy in the arctic seas had not gone beyond. Kemp the sixty-sixth parallel, Volary the sixty-seventh, Bisco the sixty-eighth, Bellinghausen and Morrill the seventieth, Cook the seventy-first, Weddell the seventy-fourth, and it was beyond the eighty-third, nearly five hundred and fifty miles further that we must go to the succour of the survivors of the Jane. I confess that for a practical man of unimaginative temperament I felt strangely excited. A nervous restlessness had taken possession of me. I was haunted by the figures of Arthur Pym and his companions, lost in Antarctic ice deserts. I began to feel a desire to take part in the proposed undertaking of Captain Len Guy. I thought about it incessantly. As a fact there was nothing to recall me to America. It is true that whether I should get the consent of the commander of the howl-brain remained to be seen. But, after all, why should he refuse to keep me as a passenger? Would it not be a very human satisfaction to him to give me material proof that he was in the right, by taking me to the very scene of a catastrophe that I had regarded as fictitious, showing me the remains of the Jane at Salal, and landing me on that self-same island which I had declared to be a myth? Nevertheless I resolved to wait, before I came to any definite determination, until an opportunity of speaking to the Captain should arise. After an interval of unfavourable weather, during which the howl-brain made but slow progress, on the fourth of October in the morning the aspect of the sky and the sea underwent a marked change. The wind became calm, the waves abated, and the next day the breeze veered to the north-west. This was very favourable to us, and in ten days with a continuance of such fortunate conditions we might hope to reach the Falklands. It was on the eleventh that the opportunity of an explanation with Captain Len Guy was presented to me, and by himself, for he came out of 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 subject, which entirely absorbed him, he began saying, I have not yet had the pleasure of a chat with you, Mr. Jorling, since our departure from Tristan-Dochuna. To my regret, Captain, I replied, but with reserve, for I wanted him to make the running. I beg you to excuse me, he resumed. I have so many things to occupy me, and to make me anxious. A plan of campaign to organize, in which nothing must be unforeseen or unprovided for. I beg you not to be displeased with me. I am not, I assure you. That is all right, Mr. Jorling, and now that I know you, that I am able to appreciate you, I congratulate myself upon having you, for a passenger, until a rival at the Falklands. I am very grateful, Captain, for what you have done for me, and I feel encouraged, too. The moment seemed propitious to making my proposal, when Captain Langeye interrupted me. Well, Mr. Jorling, he asked, are you now convinced of the reality of the voyage of the Jane, or do you still regard Edgar Poe'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 really existed, or that my brother William Guy and five of his companions are living. I should be the most incredulous of men, Captain, to doubt either fact, and my earnest desire is that the favour of heaven may attend you and secure the safety of the shipwreck mariners of the Jane. I will do all in my power, Mr. Jorling, and by the blessing of God I shall succeed. I hope so, Captain. Indeed, I am certain it will be so, and if you 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 Tristan-Dachuna, inquired the Captain, without allowing me to finish my sentence? That is so, I replied. And what I learned from Glass has contributed not a little to change my doubts into certainty. Uh, he has satisfied you? Yes, he perfectly remembers to have seen the Jane eleven years ago when she had put in at Tristan-Dachuna. The Jane and my brother? He told me that he had personal dealings with Captain William Guy, and he traded with the Jane? Yes, as he has just been trading with the Hal Brain. 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 he regarded as a foolhardy adventurer, capable of any daring folly. Say a madman, and a dangerous madman, Mr. Jorling. Was it not he who 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 mate of the Jane. He was a fine, brave, faithful fellow, Mr. Jorling, and devoted body and soul to my brother. As west as to you, Captain. Does Glass know where the shipwrecked men from the Jane are now? I told him, Captain, and also all that you have resolved to do to save them. I did not think it proper to add that Glass had been much surprised at Captain Guy's, abstaining from visiting him, as, in his absurd vanity, he held the Commander of the Hal Brain bound to do, nor that he did not consider the Governor of Tristan de Chuna bound to take the initiative. I wish to ask you, Mr. Jorling, whether you think everything in Arthur Pym's journal, which has been published by Edgar Poe, is exactly true. I think there is some need for doubt, I answered, the singular character of the hero of those adventures being taken into consideration, at least concerning the phenomenon of the island of Salal, and we know that Arthur Pym was mistaking in asserting that Captain William Guy and several of his companions perished in the landslip of the hill at Klock Lock. Ah, but he does not assert this, Mr. Jorling. He says only that when he and Dirk Peters had reached the opening through which they could discern the surrounding country, the seat of the artificial earthquake was revealed to them. Now, as the whole face of the hill was rushing into the ravine, the fate of my brother and twenty-nine of his men could not be doubtful to his mind. He was, most naturally, led to believe that Dirk Peters and himself were the only white men remaining alive on the island. He said nothing but this, nothing more. They were only suppositions. Very reasonable, are they not? I admit that fully, Captain. But now, thanks to Patterson's notebook, we are certain that my brother and five of his companions escaped from the landslip contrived by the natives. That is quite clear, Captain. But as to what became of the survivors of the Jain, whether they were taken by the natives of Salal and kept in captivity, or remained free, Patterson's notebook says nothing, nor does it relate under what circumstances he himself was carried far away from them. All that we shall learn, Mr. Dirk, yes, we shall know all. The main point is that we are quite sure my brother and five of his sailors were living less than four months ago on some part of Salal Island. There is no question of a romance signed Edgar Poe, but of a voracious narrative signed Patterson. Captain, said I, will you let me be one of your company until the end of the campaign of the Howe Brain in the Antarctic seas? Captain Lengai looked at me with a glance, as penetrating as a keen blade. Otherwise he did not appear surprised by the proposal I had made. Perhaps he had been expecting it, and he uttered only the single word, willingly. CHAPTER IX of an Antarctic mystery, or the stinks of the ice-fields. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. An Antarctic mystery by Jules Verne, CHAPTER IX. Fitting out the Howe Brain. On the fifteenth of October, a schooner cast anchor at Port Eggmont, on the north of West Falkland. The group is composed of two islands, one the above-named, the other Soledad or East Falkland. Captain Lengai gave twelve hours' leave to the whole crew. The next day the proceedings were to begin by a careful and minute inspection of the vessel's hull and keel, in view of the contemplated prolonged navigation of the Antarctic seas. That day Captain Lengai went ashore to confer with the Governor of the group on the subject of the immediate re-victualing of the schooner. He did not intend to make expense a consideration, because the whole adventure might be wrecked by an unwise economy. Besides, I was ready to aid with my purse as I told him, and I intended that we should be partners in the cost of this expedition. James West remained on board all day, according to his custom, in the absence of the Captain, and was engaged until evening in the inspection of the hold. I did not wish to go ashore until the next day. I should have ample time while we remained in port to explore Port Egmont, and its surroundings, and to study the geology and mineralogy of the island. Hurly-girly regarded the opportunity as highly favourable for the renewal of talk with me, and availed himself of it accordingly. He accosted me as follows. Accept my sincere compliments, Mr. Jorling. And wherefore, Boeson? On account of what I have just heard, that you are to come with us to the far end of the Antarctic seas. Oh, not so far I imagine, and if it is not a matter of going beyond the eighty-fourth parallel. O, can tell, replied the Boeson, at all events, the hull-brain will make more degrees of latitude than any other ship before her. We shall see. And does that not alarm you, Mr. Jorling? Not in the very least. Nor ask, rest assured. No, no, you see, Mr. Jorling, our captain is a good one, although he is no talker. You only need to take him the right way. First he gives you the passage to Tristan Dutuna, that he refused you at first. Now he extends it to the pole. The pole is not the question, Boeson. Ah, it will be reached at last some day. The thing has not yet been done, and besides I don't take much interest in the pole, and have no ambition to conquer it. In any case, it is only to Salel Island. Salel Island, of course. Nevertheless you will acknowledge that our captain has been very accommodating to you, and, and therefore I am much obliged to him, Boeson, and, a hasten to add, to you also, for since it is to your influence I owe my passage. Hurly girly, a good fellow at bottom, as afterwards I learned, discerned a little touch of irony in my tone. But he did not appear to do so. He was resolved to persevere in his patronage of me, and indeed his conversation could not be otherwise than profitable to me, for he was thoroughly acquainted with the Falkland Islands. The result was that on the following day I went ashore, adequately prepared to begin my perquisitions. At that period the Falklands were not utilized as they have been since. It was at a later date that Port Stanley, described by Ilyse Récluse, the French Geographer, as ideal, was discovered. Port Stanley is sheltered at every point of the compass, and could contain all the fleets of Great Britain. If I had been sailing for the last two months with bandaged dyes, and without knowing whether the how-brain was bound, and had been asked during the first few hours at our moorings, are you in the Falkland Islands or in Norway, I should have puzzled how to answer the question. For here were coasts forming deep cracks, the steep hills with peaked sides, and the coast ledges faced with grey rock. Even the seaside climate, exempt from great extremes of cold and heat, is common to the two countries. Besides the frequent rains of Scandinavia visit Magdalene's region in like abundance. Both have dense fogs, and in spring and autumn winds so fierce that the very vegetables in the fields are frequently rooted up. A few walks inland would, however, have sufficed to make me recognize that I was still separated by the equator from the waters of northern Europe. What had I found to observe in the neighbourhood of Port Egmont after my explorations of the first few days? Nothing but the signs of sickly vegetation, nowhere arboricent. Here and there a few shrubs grew, in place of the flourishing furs of the Norwegian mountains, and the surface of the spongy soil, which sinks and rises under the foot, is carpeted with mosses, fungi, and lichens. No, this was not the enticing country where the echoes of the sagas resound. This was not the poetic realm of wooden and the valkyries. On the deep waters of the falcon strait, which separates the two principal isles, great masses of extraordinary aquatic vegetation floated, and the bays of the archipelago, where whales were already becoming scarce, were frequented by other marine mammals of enormous size, seals twenty-five feet long by twenty in circumference, and great numbers of sea elephants, wolves, and lions of proportion no less gigantic. The uproar made by these animals, by the females and their young especially, surpasses description. One would think that herds of cattle were bellowing on the beach. Neither difficulty nor danger attends the capture, or at least the slaughter of the marine beasts. The sealers kill them with a blow of a club when they are lying in the sands on the strand. These are the special features that differentiate Scandinavia from the falcons, not to speak of the 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 each year. One day, when the air was filled with a sound of braying, sufficient to 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, but penguins. The asses themselves, had any been there, would have been deceived by the braying of these stupid birds. I pursued my investigations some way to the west of the bay. West Falkland is more extensive than its neighbor, Las Oldad, and possesses another fort at the southern point of Byron Sound, too far off for me to go there. I could not estimate the population of the archipelago even approximately. Probably it did not then exceed from two to three hundred souls, mostly English with some Indians, Portuguese, Spaniards, gosh, from the Argentine pompous, and natives from Tierra del Fuul. On the other hand, the representatives of the Olvine and Bovine races were to be counted by tens of thousands. More than five hundred thousand sheep yield over four hundred thousand dollars worth of wool yearly. There are also horned cattle bred on the islands. These seem to have increased in size, while the other crudge-repeds, for instance, horses, pigs, and rabbits, have decreased. All these live in a wild state, and the only beast of prey is a dog-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 in abundance of that savoury grass the tussock, does nature lavish on animals there? Australia, though so rich in this respect, does not set a better spread table before her Olvine and Bovine pensioners. The Falklands ought to be resorted to, for the re-victualing of ships. The groups are of real importance to navigators, making for the strait of Magellan, as well as to those who come to fish in the vicinity of the polar regions. When the work on the hull was done, West occupied himself with the mass and the rigging, with the assistance of Martin Holt, our sailing-master, who was very clever at this kind of industry. On the twenty-first of October Captain Len Guy said to me, You shall see, Mr. Jorling, that nothing will be neglected to ensure the success of our enterprise. Everything that can be foreseen has been foreseen, and if the hull-brain is to perish in some catastrophe, it will be because it is not permitted to human beings to go against the designs of God. I have good hopes, Captain, as I have already said. Your vessel and a crew are worthy of confidence, but supposing the expedition should be much prolonged, perhaps the supply of provisions. We shall carry sufficient for two years, and those shall be of good quality. Port Egmont has proved capable of supplying us with everything we require. Another question, if you will allow me. Put it, Mr. Jorling, put it. Shall you not need a more numerous crew for the hull-brain? Though you have men enough for the working of the ship, suppose you find you have to attack or defend in the Antarctic waters. Let us not forget that, according to Arthur Pym's narrative, there were thousands of natives on Salel Island, and if your brother, his companions, are prisoners. I hope Mr. Jorling, our artillery, will protect the hull-brain 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 this kind. 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 by larger pay. Double pay, Mr. Jorling, and the whole crew must have the same. You know, Captain, I am disposed and, indeed, desirous to contribute to the expenses of the expedition. Will you kindly consider me as your partner? All that shall be arranged, Mr. Jorling, and I am grateful to you. The main point is to complete our armament with the least possible delay. We must be ready to clear out in a week. The news that the schooner was bound for the Antarctic seas had produced some sensation in the Falklands, at Port Eggman, and in the ports of Las Oldad. At that season a number of unoccupied sailors were there, awaiting the passage of the whaling-ships to offer their services, for which they were very well paid in general. If it had been only for a fishing campaign on the borders of the polar circle between the Sandwich Islands and New Georgia, Captain Land Guy, would have merely had to make a selection. But the projected voyage was a very different thing, and only the old sailors of the Howe-brain were entirely indifferent to the dangers of such an enterprise, and ready to follow their chief wither so ever it might please him to go. In reality it was necessary to treble the crew of the schooner. Between the Captain, the Mate, the Bosun, the Cook and myself, we were thirteen on board. Now thirty-two or thirty-four men would not be too many for us, and it must be remembered that there were thirty-eight on board the Jane. In this emergency the Governor exerted himself to the utmost, and thanks to the largely extra pay that was offered, Captain Land Guy procured his full tale of semen. Nine recruits signed articles for the duration of the campaign, which could not be fixed beforehand, but was not to extend beyond Salal Island. The crew, counting every man on board except myself, numbered thirty-one, and a thirty-second for whom I bespeak special attention. On the eve of our departure Captain Land Guy was accosted at the angle of the port by an individual whom he recognized as a sailor by his clothes, his walk and his speech. This individual said in a rough and hardly intelligible voice, Captain, I have a proposal to make to you. What is it? Have you still 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 are you at Port Eggman? I shall have been there three years come Christmas. Did you expect to get on a passing-willship? No. Then what are you doing here? Nothing. I did not think of going to see again. Then why do you seek a birth? Just an idea. The news of the expedition of your schooner is going on with spread. I desire. Yes, I desire to take a part in it with your leave, of course. You are known at Port Eggman. Very well known. And I have incurred no reproach since I came here. Very well said the Captain. I will make an inquiry respecting you. Mayor Captain, and if you say yes, my bag shall be on board this evening. What is your name? Hunt. And you are? An American. This hunt was a man of short stature. His weather-beaten face was brick-red. His skin was of a yellowish-brown, like an Indian's. His body clumsy, his head very large. His legs were bowed. His whole frame denoted exceptional strength, especially at the arms, which terminated in huge hands. His grizzled hair resembled a kind of fur. A particular, and anything but prepossessing character was imparted to the physiognomy of this individual by the extraordinary keenness of his small eyes. His ominous, lipless mouth, which stretched from ear to ear, and his long teeth, which were dazzlingly bright, their enamel being intact, for he had never been attacked by scurvy, the common scourge of seamen in high latitudes. Hunt had been living in the Falklands for three years. He lived alone on a pension. No one knew from whence this was derived. He was singularly uncommunicative, and passed his time in fishing, by which he might have lived, not only as a matter of sustenance, but as an article of commerce. The information gained by Captain Len Guy was necessarily incomplete, as it was confined to Hunt's conduct during his residence at Port Egmont. The man did not fight, he did not drink, and he had given many proofs of his Herculian strength. Concerning his past nothing was known, but undoubtedly he had been a sailor. He had said more to Len Guy than he had ever said to anybody, but he kept silence, respecting the family to which he belonged, and the place of his birth. This was of no importance, that he should prove to be a good sailor, was all that we had to think about. Hunt obtained a favourable reply, and came on board that same evening. On the twenty-seventh in the morning, in the presence of the authorities of the archipelago, the Howe Brains anchor was lifted, the last good wishes and the final adjuus were exchanged, and the schooner took the sea. The same evening Capes Dolphin and Pembroke disappeared in the 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 terrible regions of the Antarctic realm. CHAPTER X THE OUTSET OF THE ENTERPRISE Here I was then, launched into an adventure which seemed likely to surpass all my former experiences. Who would have believed such a thing of me? But I was under a spell which drew me towards the unknown, that unknown of the polar world whose secret so many daring pioneers had in vain essayed to penetrate, and this time who could tell but that the sphinx of the Antarctic regions would speak for the first time to human ears. The new crew had, firstly, to apply themselves to learning their several duties, and the old, all fine fellows aided them in the task. Although Captain Lenkai had not much choice, he seemed to have been in luck. The sailors of various nationalities displayed zeal and goodwill. They were aware also that the mate was a man with whom it would not do to Vex, for hurly-gurly had given them to understand that West would break any man's head who did not go straight. His chief allowed him full attitude in this respect. A latitude, he added, which is obtained by taking the altitude of the eye with a shut fest. I recognized my friend the bosun in the manner of this warning to all whom it might concern. The new hands took the admonition seriously, and there was no occasion to punish any of them. As for Hunt, while he observed the docility of a true sailor in all his duties, he always kept himself apart, speaking to none, and even slept on the deck in a corner rather than occupy a bunk in the folk-soul with the others. Captain Lenkai's intention was to take the sandwich aisles for his point of departure towards the south after having made acquaintance with New Georgia distant eight hundred miles from the Falklands, thus the schooner would be in longitude on the route of the Jane. On the second of November this chorus brought us to the bearings which certain navigators have assigned to the Aurora Islands, thirty degrees fifteen minutes of latitude, and forty-seven degrees thirty-three minutes of east longitude. Well then, notwithstanding the affirmations, which are regarded with suspicion of the captains of the Aurora in seventeen sixty-two, of the St. Miguel in seventeen sixty-nine, of the Pearl in seventeen seventy-nine, of the Prynicus and the Dolores in seventeen ninety, of the Atravita in seventeen ninety-four, which gave the bearings of these three islands of the group, we did not perceive a single indication of land in the whole of the space traversed by us. It was the same with regard to the alleged islands of the conceded glass. Not a single little islet was to be seen in the position he had indicated, although the lookout was most carefully kept. It is to be feared that his Excellency, the Governor of Tristan-Dachuna, will never see his name figuring in geographical nomenclature. It was now the sixth of November, our passage promised to be shorter than that of the Jane. We had no need to hurry, however, our schooner would arrive before the gates of the iceberg wall would be open. For three days the weather caused the working of the ship to be unusually laborious, and the new crew behaved very well. Thereupon the bosun congratulated them. Hurly-girly, poor witness that hunt for all his awkward and clumsy build, was in himself worth three men. A famous recruit, said he. Yes indeed, I replied, and gained just at the last moment. Very true, Mr. Jorling, but what a face and head he has, that hunt! I have often met Americans like him in the regions of the far west, I answered, and I should not be surprised if this man had Indian blood in his veins. Do you ever talk with hunt? Very seldom, Mr. Jorling, he keeps to himself, and away from everybody. And yet it is not for want of mouth. I never saw anything like his, at his hands. Have you seen his hands? Be on your guard, Mr. Jorling, for if he ever wants to shake hands with you. Fortunately bosun, hunt does not seem to be quarrelsome. He appears to be a quiet man, who does not abuse his strength. No, except when he is setting a hall-yard. Then I am always afraid the pulley will come down in the yard with it. Hunt certainly was a strange being, and I could not resist observing him with curiosity, especially as it struck me that he regarded me at times with a curious intentness. On the 10th of November at about two in the afternoon the lookout shouted, LAND AHEAD! STAR BORD! An observation had just given fifty-seven degrees, seven minutes latitude, and forty-one degrees, thirteen minutes longitude. This land could only be the Isle de Saint-Paris. Its British names are South Georgia, New Georgia, and King George's Islands, and it belongs to the circumpolar regions. It was discovered by the Frenchman Burb in 1675 before Cook, but although he came in second the celebrated navigator gave it the series of names which it still bears. The schooner took the direction of this island, whose snow-clad heights, formidable masses of ancient rock-rise, to an immense altitude through the yellow fogs of the surrounding space. New Georgia, situated within five hundred leagues of Magdalen Straits, belongs to the administrative domains of the Falklands. The British administration is not represented there by any one, the island is not inhabited, although it is habitable, at least in the summer season. On the following day, while the men were gone in search of water, I walked about in the vicinity of the bay. The place was an utter desert, for the period at which sealing is pursued there had not arrived. New Georgia, being exposed to the direct action of the Antarctic polar current, is freely frequented by marine mammals. I saw several droves of these creatures on the rocks, the strand, and within the rock grottoes of the coast. Whole smallas of penguins, standing motionless in interminable rows, braid their protest against the invasion of an intruder, I allude to myself. Enumerable larks flew over the surface of the waters and the sands, their song awoke my memory of lands more favoured by nature. It is fortunate that these birds do not want branches to perch on, for there does not exist a tree in New Georgia. Here and there I found a few phanograms, some pale-coloured mosses, and especially tussock grass in such abundance that numerous herds of cattle might be fed upon the island. On the 12th November the hell-brains sailed once more, and having doubled Charlotte Point at the extremity of Royal Bay, she headed in the direction of the Sandwich Islands four hundred miles from Thence. So far we had not encountered floating ice. The reason was that the summer sun had not detached any either from the ice- bergs or the southern lands. Later on the current would draw them to the height of the fiftieth parallel, which in the southern hemisphere is that of Paris or Quebec. But we were much impeded by huge banks of fog, which frequently shut out the horizon. Nevertheless, as these waters presented no danger, and there was nothing to fear from ice-packs or drifting ice- bergs, the hell-brain was able to pursue her route towards the Sandwich Islands comfortably enough. Great flocks of clangorous birds, breasting the wind, and hardly moving their wings, passed us in the midst of fogs, petrels, divers, halakons, and albatross bound landwards as though to show us the way. Owing no doubt to these myths we were unable to discern Traverse the island. Captain Lunguy, however, thought some vague streaks of intermittent light which were perceived in the night between the fourteenth and the fifteenth, probably proceeded from a volcano which might be that of Traverse, as the crater frequently emits flames. On the seventeenth November the scooter reached the archipelago to which Cook gave the name of Southern Tool in the first instance as it was the most southern land that had been discovered at that period. He afterward baptized it Sandwich Isles. James West repaired to Tool in the large boat in order to explore the approachable points, while Captain Lunguy and I descended on the Bristol Strand. We found absolutely desolate country. The only inhabitants were melancholy birds of Antarctic species. Mosses and lichens cover the nakedness of an unproductive soil. Behind the beach a few furs rise to a considerable height on the bare hillsides. From wence great masses occasionally come crashing down with a thundering sound. Awful solitude reigns everywhere. There was nothing to attest the passage of any human being or the presence of any shipwrecked persons on Bristol Island. West's explorations at Tool produced a precisely similar result. A few shots fired from our schooner had no effect but to drive away the crowd of petrels and divers, and to startle the rows of stupid penguins on the beach. While Captain Lunguy and I were walking I said to him, You know, of course, what Cook's opinion on the subject of the Sandwich Group was when he discovered it. At first he believed he had set foot upon a continent. According to him the mountains of ice carried out of the Antarctic Sea by the drift were detached from that continent. He recognized afterwards that the Sandwiches only formed an archipelago, but nevertheless his belief that a polar continent further south exists remained firm and unchanged. I know that is so, Mr. Jorling, replied the Captain. But if such a continent exists we must conclude that there is a great gap in its coast and that Weddell and my brother each got in by that gap at six years interval. That our great navigator had not the luck to discover this passage is easy to explain. He stopped at the 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 that no one would ever venture further than he had gone, and that the Antarctic lands, if any such existed, would never be seen, but the future will prove that he was mistaken. They have been seen so far as the eighty-fourth degree of latitude. And who knows, said I, perhaps beyond that, by Arthur Pym. Perhaps, Mr. Jorling, it is true that we have not to trouble ourselves about Arthur Pym, since he at least, and Dirk Peters also, returned to America. But supposing he did not return, I consider that we have not to face that eventuality. CHAPTER 11 From the Sandwich Islands to the Polar Circle. The Halbrain, singularly favored by the weather, sighted the New South Orkneys Group in six days after she had sailed from the Sandwich Islands. This archipelago was discovered by Palmer, an American, and Bothwell, an Englishman, jointly, in 1821 to 22. Crossed by the sixty-first parallel, it is comprehended between the forty-fourth and the forty-seventh meridian. On approaching we were able to observe contorted masses and steep cliffs on the north side, which became less rugged as they neared the coast, at whose edge lay enormous ice-flows, heaped together in formidable confusion. These, before two months should have expired, should be drifted towards the temperate waters. At that season the whaling-ships would appear to carry on the taking of the great blowing-creatures, while some of their crews would remain on the island to capture seals and sea-elephants. In order to avoid the strait which was encumbered with islets and ice-flows, Captain Len Guy first cast anchor at the southeastern extremity of Lorry Island, where he passed the day on the twenty-fourth. Then having rounded Cape Dundas, he sailed along the southern coast of Coronation Island, where the schooner anchored on the twenty-fifth. Our close and careful researches produced no result as regarded the sailors of the Jane. The islands and islets were peopled by multitudes of birds. Without taking the penguins into account, those guano-covered rocks were crowded with white pigeons, a species of which I had already seen some specimens. These birds have rather short, conical beaks, and red-rimmed islets they can be knocked over with little difficulty. As for the vegetable kingdom in the new south Orkneys, it is represented only by gray lichen and some scanty sea-weeds. Mussels are found in great abundance along the rocks. Of these we procured an ample supply. The bull-sun and his men did not lose the opportunity of killing several dozens of penguins with their sticks, not from a ruthless instinctive destruction, but from the legitimate desire to procure fresh food. Their flesh is just as good as chicken, Mr. Jorling, said hurly-girly, did you not eat penguin at the Kurgulans? Yes, bull-sun, but it was cooked by Orkneys. Very well, then, it will be cooked by Endicott here, and you will not know the difference. And in fact we in the saloon, like the men in the folk-soul, were regaled with penguin and acknowledged the merits of our excellent sea-cook. The howl-brained celled on the 26th of November at six o'clock in the morning, heading south. She re-ascended 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 to not deflect either to the east or the west, she must inevitably come to Salel Island. The difficulties of navigation had to be taken into account, of course. The wind, continuing to blow steadily from the west, was in our favor, and if the present speed of the howl-brained could be maintained, as I ventured to suggest to Captain Len Guy, the voyage from 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 thick barrier 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 which Weddell and Arthur Pym described so fully, beyond the ice-wall, and thenceforth, we need only sail under ordinary conditions to Bennett Island in the first place, and afterwards to Salel Island, once on that wide open sea, what obstacle could arrest, or even retard our progress. I can foresee none, Captain, so soon as we shall get to the back of the ice-wall. The passage through is the difficult point. It must be our chief source of anxieties, and if only the wind holds. It will hold, Mr. Jorling. All the navigators of the hostile seas have been able to ascertain, as I myself have done, the permanence of this wind. That is true, and I rejoice in the assurance, Captain, besides I acknowledge, without shrinking from the admission, that I am beginning to be superstitious. And why not, Mr. Jorling, what is there unreasonable in admitting the intervention of a supernatural power in the most ordinary circumstances of life? And we, who sail the how-brain, should we venture to tout it? Recall to your mind our meeting with the unfortunate Patterson on our ship's course. The fragment of ice carried into the waters where we were, and dissolved immediately afterwards. Were not these facts providential? Nay, I go for this still, and I'm sure that, after having done so much to guide us towards our compatriots, God will not abandon us. I think as you think, Captain, no, his intervention is not to be denied, and I do not believe that chance plays the part assigned to it by superficial minds upon the stage of human life. All the facts are united by a mysterious chain. A chain, Mr. Jorling, whose first link, so far as we are concerned, is Patterson's ice-block, and whose last will be Sallal Island. Ah, my brother, my poor brother, left there for eleven years with his companions in misery, without being able to entertain the hope that Sucker ever could reach them. And Patterson carried far away from them, under we know not what conditions, they not knowing what had become of him, if my heart is sick when I think of these catastrophes, Mr. Jorling, at least it will not fail me, unless it be at the moment when my brother throws himself into my arms. So then we too were agreed in our trust in providence. It had been made plain to us, in a manifest fashion, that God had entrusted us with a mission, and we would do all that might be humanly possible to accomplish it. The schooner's crew, I ought to mention, were animated by like sentiments, and shared the same hopes. I alluded to the original seamen 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 their engagement. At least I was assured by the bow-sun that such was the case, but with the exception of Hunt. This man had apparently not been induced to take service by the bribe of high wages or prize money. He was absolutely silent on that and every other subject. If he does not speak to you, bow-sun, I said, neither does he speak to me. Dear know, Mr. Jorling, what it is my notion that man has already done? Tell me, hurly-gurly. Well then, I believe he has gone far, far into the southern seas. Let him be as dumb as a fish about it. Why he is dumb is his own affair. But if that sea-hog of a man has not been inside the Antarctic Circle, and even the ice-wall by a good dozen degrees, may the first sea we ship carry me overboard. From what do you judge, bow-sun? From his eyes, Mr. Jorling, from his eyes. No matter at what moment, let the ship's head, be as it may, those eyes of his eyes are always on the south, open, unwinking, fixed, like guns in position. Hurly-gurly did not exaggerate, and I had already remarked this. To employ an expression of Edgar Poe's, Hunt had eyes like a falcon's. When he is not on the watch, resumed the bow-sun, that savage, leans all the time with his elbows on the side, as motionless as he is mute. His right place would be at the end of our bow, where he would do for a figure-head to the howl-brain, and a very ugly one at that. And then, when he is at the helm, Mr. Jorling, just observe him. His enormous hands clutch the handles, as though they were fast into the wheel. He gazes at the binocle, as though the magnet of the compass were drawing his eyes. I pride myself on being a good steersman. But as for being the equal of Hunt, I am not. With him, not for an instant as the needle vary, from the sailing-line, however rough a lurch she may give. I am sure that if the binocle lamp were to go out in the night, Hunt would not require to relight it. The fire in his eyes would light up the dial, and keep him right. For several days our navigation went on in unbroken monotony, without a single incident, and under favorable conditions. The spring season was advancing, and whales began to make their appearance in large waters. In these waters a week would suffice for ships of heavy tonnage to fill their casks with the precious oil. Thus the new men of the crew, and especially the Americans, did not conceal their regret for the captain's indifference in the presence of so many animals worth their weight in gold, and more abundant than they had ever seen whales at that period of the year. The leading malcontent was Hearn, a sealing-master, to whom his companions were ready to listen. He had found it easy to get the upper hand of the other sailors by his rough manner, and the surly audacity that was expressed by his whole personality. Hearn was an American, and forty-five years of age. He was an active, vigorous man, and I could see him in my mind's eye, standing up in his double-boat, whaling-boat, brandishing the harpoon, darting it into the flank of a whale, and paying out the rope. He must have been fine to see. Granted his passion for this business, I could not be surprised that his discontent showed itself upon occasion. In any case, however, our schooner was not fitted out for fishing, and the implements of whaling were not on board. One day, about three o'clock in the afternoon, I had gone forward to watch the gambles of a school of the huge sea-mammals. Hearn was pointing them out to his companions and muttering in disjointed faces. There, look, there's a fin back, there's another, and another 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 one of those four yellow spots they have on their bellies. But there's nothing to be done in this traffic-box. One cannot stretch one's arms, devil take it. In these seas it is fishing we ought to be at not. Then, stopping short, he swore a few o's and cried out, and that another well. The one with a hump, like a dromedary, asked a sailor, Yes, it's a humpback! replied Hearn. Do you make out its wrinkled belly, and also its long dorsal fin? They are not easy to take those humpbacks, for they go down into the great depths and devour long reaches of your lines. Truly, we deserve that he should give us a switch of his tail on our side, since we don't send a harpoon into his. Look out! Look out! shouted the bow-sun. This was not to warn us that we were in danger of receiving the formidable stroke of a humpback's tail, which the sea-master had wished us. No, an enormous blower had come alongside the schooner, and almost on the instant a spout of ill-smelling water was ejected from its blow-hole, with a noise like a distant roar of artillery. The whole foredeck to the main hatch was inundated. That's well done! growled Hearn, shrugging his shoulders, while his companions shook themselves and cursed the humpback. Besides these two kinds of cetacea we had observed several right whales, and these are the most usually met with in the southern seas. They have no fins, and their blubber is very thick. The taking of these fat monsters of the deep is not attended with much danger. The right whales are vigorously pursued in the southern seas, where the little shellfish, called whale's food, abound. The whales subsist entirely upon these small crustaceans. Presently one of the right whales, measuring sixty feet in length, that is to say, the animal was the equivalent of a hundred barrels of oil, was seen floating within three cable-lanks of the schooner. Yes, that's a right whale, exclaimed Hearn. You might tell it by its thick short spout. See, that one on the portside, like a column of smoke, that's a spout of a right whale. And all this is passing before our very noses a dead loss. Why, it's like emptying many bags into the sea, not to fill one's barrels when one can. A nice sort of captain indeed to let all this merchandise be lost, and do such wrong to his crew. Hearn! said an imperious voice. Go up to the main-top. You will be more to ease there to reckon the whales. But, sir, no reply, or I'll keep you up there till to-morrow. Come, be off it once. And as he would have got the worst of an attempt at resistance, the ceiling master obeyed in silence. The season must have been abnormally advanced, for although we continued to see a vast number of testaceans, we did not catch sight of a single whaling-ship in all this fishing-ground. I hasten to state that, although we are not tempted by whales, no other fishing was forbidden on board the hell-brain, and our daily bill of fare profited by the bosons trawling-lines to the extreme satisfaction of stomach's weary of salt-meat. Our lines brought us goby, salmon, cod, mackerel, conger, mullet, and parrot-fish. The birds which we saw, and which came from every point of the horizon, were those I have already mentioned, petrels, divers, helicans, and pigeons in couchless flocks. I also saw, but beyond aim, a giant petrol. Its dimensions were truly astonishing. This was one of those called Quiprante Jesus 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 Glacier Zone. On the thirtieth of November, after observation taken at noon, it was found that we had reached sixty-six degrees, twenty-three minutes, three seconds of latitude. The howl-brain had then crossed the polar circle which circumscribes the area of the Antarctic Zone. CHAPTER XII of an Antarctic Mystery or the Sphinx of the Icefields. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org, an Antarctic Mystery by Jules Verne, CHAPTER XII, between the polar circle and the ice-wall. Since the howl-brain 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 splendor and glory in which the Eliana's singers 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 its superfaces of more than five million 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 illuminated 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 Salal Island, where we felt no doubt of finding the men of the Jain. When Captain Len Guy, West and the old sailors of the crew, learned that the schooner had cleared the sixty-six parallel of latitude, their rough and sun-burnt faces shone with satisfaction. The next day Hurley-Girly accosted me on the deck with a broad smile and a cheerful manner. So then Mr. Jorling said he, we've left the famous circle behind us. Not far enough, Bosun, not far enough. Ah, 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, on the how-brain might have been allowed the ceremony of a southern baptism. A baptism? And whom would you have baptized, Bosun, seeing that all our men like yourself have already sailed beyond this parallel? We, oh, yes, but you! Oh, no, Mr. Jorling, and why, may I ask, should not that ceremony be performed in your honour? True, Bosun, 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. Jorling? 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, hurly-girly, 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 Bennett Islet, or Salah Island, provided there are any traverns in those savage islands, and any atkances to keep them. Tell me, Bosun, I always get back to hunt. Does he seem so much pleased to have passed the polar circle as the hellbrains' old sailors are? Who knows, there is 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 this ice-barrier, what makes you think so? Everything and nothing, Mr. Jorling, 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 Bosun'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 Lengai was made anxious by this alteration in the wind, and besides the speed of the howl-brain was manifestly lessened, for the breeze began to soften on the fourth, and in the middle of the night it died away. The morning the sails hung motionless and shriveled along the mass, although not a breath reached us, and the surface of the ocean was unruffled, the schooner was wrought from side to side by the long oscillations of the swell coming from the west. The sea feels something, said Captain Lengai 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. Jorling, not even in summer. 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 lookout given a warning of the first drifting ice, I asked? Yes, replied Captain Lengai, 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, eyelets, 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 how-brain. But although the wind had hitherto permitted her to keep on course, she was not advancing, had it was exceedingly disagreeable, to be rolling about in a rough and hollow sea, which struck her ship's sides most unpleasantly. At about two o'clock it was blowing a hurricane from all the points of the compass. The schooner was terribly knocked about, and the bow-sun 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 affected 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 Peter's 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 of 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 phenomenon 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 maneuver four men had to climb to the cross-bars of the four mast in order to reef the mainsail. The first who sprang to the rat-lines 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 rat-lines. Having reached the cross-bars 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 terrible lurch of the ship to Starboard, under the stroke of a mountainous wave, flunked everything on the deck into wild confusion, and the sea rushed in through the scrubber-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 a stride on it, had disappeared. A cry was heard, uttered by the sailing-master, whose arm could be seen wildly waving amidst the whiteness of the foam. The sailors rushed to the side and flung out one a rope and another a cask, a third a spar, in short any object of which Martin Holt might lay a 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 howl-brain, 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 cut one of the lines hanging over the side. In a minute Hunt and Martin Holt were hoisted on board. The ladder 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 Langeye, 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 search in case. But who saved me?' "'Hunt,' cried the bow-son, "'Hunt, risked his life for you.' As the ladder was hanging back, hurly-girly pushed him towards Martin Holt, whose eyes expressed the liveliest gratitude. "'Hunt,' he said, "'you have saved me. But for you I should have been lost. I thank you.' Hunt made no reply. "'Hunt,' resumed Captain Langeye, 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 decided he was a being impervious to impressions, and not on that day either was the bow-son destined to know the colour of his words. For three whole days, the sixth, seventh, and eighth of December, the tempest raged in these waters, accompanied by snowstorms which perceptibly lowered the temperature. It is needless to say that Captain Langeye 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 Hearn, the ceiling 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. 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. Well, Holt, I said to him one day, when he was talking with the bow-sun, what terms are you on with that queer fellow Hunt now? Since the salvage affair, is he a little more communicative? No, Mr. Jorling, 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 hurly-girly, I have made the 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. Jorling. I was surprised at what the two men had said, but a little observation convinced me that Hunt actually did avoid every occasion of coming in contact with Martin Holt. Did he not think that he had a right to Holt's gratitude, although the latter owed his life to him? This man's conduct was certainly very strange. In the early morning of the night the wind showed a tendency to change in the direction of the east, which would mean more manageable weather for us, and in fact, although the seas still remained rough, at about two in the morning it became feasible to put on more sail without risk, and thus the Hal-brain regained the course from which she had been driven by the prolonged tempest. In that portion of the Antarctic Sea the ice-packs were more numerous and there was reason to believe that the tempest, by hastening the smash-up, had broken the barrier of the iceberg wall towards the east. Although the seas beyond the polar circle were wildly tumultuous, it is but just to acknowledge that our navigation had been accomplished so far under exceptional conditions, and what good luck it would be if the Hal-brain, in this first fortnight of December, were to find the Weddell route open. There I am talking of the Weddell route as though it were a macadamized road, well kept with milestones, and this way to the south pole on a sign-post. The numerous wandering masses of ice gave our men no trouble. They were easily avoided. It seemed likely that no real difficulties would arise until the schooner should have to try to make a passage for herself through the icebergs. Besides there was no surprise to be feared. The presence of ice was indicated by a yellowish tint in the atmosphere which the whalers call blink. This is a phenomenon peculiar to the glacial zones which never deceives the observer. For five successive days the Hal-brain sailed without sustaining any damage, without having even for a moment had to fear collision. It is true that in proportion as she advanced towards the south the number of ice-packs increased, and the channels became narrower. On the fourteenth an observation gave us seventy-two degrees, thirty-seven minutes for latitude. Our longitude remained the same. Between the forty-second and forty-third meridian. This was already a point beyond the Antarctic circle that few navigators had been able to reach. We were at only two degrees lower than Weddell. The navigation of the schooner naturally became a more delicate matter in the midst of those dim, wan masses soiled with the excretia of birds. Many of them had a leperous look, compared with their already considerable volume, how small our little ship, over whose mast some of the icebergs already towered, must have appeared. Captain Len Guy admirably combined boldness and prudence in his command of the ship. He never passed to leeward of an iceberg if the distance did not guarantee the success of any maneuver whatsoever that might suddenly become necessary. He was familiar with all the contingencies of ice navigation, and was not afraid, to venture into the midst of these flotillas of drifts and packs. That day he said to me, Mr. Jorling, this is not the first time that I have tried to penetrate into the polar sea, and without success. Well, if I made the attempt to do this, when I had nothing but presumption as to the fate of the Jane to go upon, what shall I not do now that presumption is changed into certainty? I understand that, Captain, and of course, your experience of navigation in these waters must increase our chances of success. Undoubtedly, nevertheless, all that lies beyond the fixed icebergs is still unknown for me, as it is for other navigators. The unknown, no, not absolutely, Captain, since we possess the important 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 it exists, and for valid reasons. In fact, it is perfectly manifest that these masses called icebergs and ice fields could not be formed in the ocean itself. It is the tremendous and irresistible action of the surge which detaches them from the continents or islands of the high latitudes. Then the currents carry them into less cold waters, where their edges are worn by the waves, while the temperatures disintegrates their bases and their sides, which are subjected to thermometric influences. That seems very plain, I replied. Then these masses have come from the icebergs. 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. The conditions are not identical. Koch has recorded that he never met the 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 at the northern regions. Now those winds do not reach the northern regions until they have been heeded in their passage over America, Asia, and Europe, and they continue to raise the temperature of the atmosphere. The nearest land, ending in the points of Cape of Good Hope, Patagonia and Hasmania, does not modify the atmospheric currents. That is an important observation, Captain, and it justifies your opinion with regard to an open sea. Yes, open, at least for ten degrees behind the icebergs. Let us then only get through that obstacle, and our greatest difficulty will have been conquered. You are right in saying that the existence of that open sea has been formally recognized by Waddell. And by Arthur Pym, Captain. And by Arthur Pym. From the fifteenth of December the difficulties of navigation increased with the number of the drifting masses. The wind, however, continued to be uniformly favourable, showing no tendency to veer to the south. The breeze freshened now and then, and we had to take in sail. When this occurred we saw the sea foaming along the sides of the ice-packs, covering them with sprays like the rocks on the coast of a floating island, but without hindering their onward march. Our crew could not fail to be impressed by the sight of the schooner making her way through these moving masses. The new men among them, at least, for the old hands had seen such maneuvers before. But they soon became accustomed to it, and took it all for granted. It was necessary to organize the lookout ahead with the greatest care. West had a cask fixed at the head of the fore-mast, which is called a crow's nest, and from thence an unremitting watch was kept. The sixteenth was a day of excessive fatigue to the men. The packs and drifts were so close that only very narrow and winding passageway between them was to be found, so that the working of the ship was more than commonly laborious. Under these circumstances none of the men grumbled, but Hunt distinguished himself by his activity. Indeed he was admitted by Captain Lengai and the crew to be an incomparable seaman, but there was something mysterious about him that excited the curiosity of them all. At this date the Halbrink could not be very far from the icebergs. If she held on, in her course in that direction, she would certainly reach them before long, and would then have only to seek for a passage. Here the two, however, the lookout had not been able to make out between the icebergs an unbroken crest of ice beyond the ice-fields. Constant and minute precautions were indispensable all day on the sixteenth, 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 in great numbers, and it was a fairy-like spectacle when several of them spouted simultaneously. With thin backs and hump-backs, purposes of colossal size appeared, and these herned harpooned cleverly when they came within range. The flesh of these creatures was much relished on board, and Endicott had cooked it in his best manner. As for the usual Antarctic birds, petrels, pigeons, and cormorants, they passed in screaming flocks, and legions of penguins ranged along the edges of the ice-fields, watched the evolutions of the schooner. These penguins are the real inhabitants of these dismal solitudes, and nature could not have created a type more suited to the desolation of the glacial zone. On the morning of the seventeenth the man in the crow's nest at last signalled the icebergs. Five or six miles to the south a long dentated crest appeared itself, plainly standing out against the fairly clear skies, and all along it drifted thousands of ice-packs. This motionless barrier stretched before us from the northwest to the southeast, and by merely sailing along it the schooner would still gain some degrees southwards. When the howl-brain was within three miles of the icebergs she laid two in the middle of a wide basin which allowed her complete freedom of movement. A boat was lowered and Captain Len Guy got into it with the bow-sun, four sailors at the oars and one at the helm. The boat was pulled in the direction of the enormous rampart. Vane search was made for a channel through which the schooner could have slipped, and after three hours of this fatiguing, reconnoitering, the man returned to the ship. Then came a squall of rain and snow which caused the temperatures to fall to thirty-six degrees, two point two-two degrees Celsius, above zero, and shut out the view of the ice-rampart from us. During the next twenty-four hours the schooner lay within four miles of the icebergs, to bring her nearer would have been to get among winding channels from which it might not have been possible to extricate her. Not that Captain Len Guy did not long to do this, in his fear of passing some opening unperceived. If I had a consort, he said, I would sail closer along the icebergs, and it is a great advantage to be two, when one is on such an enterprise as this. But the how-brain is alone, and if she were to fail us. Even though we approached no nearer to the icebergs than prudence permitted, our ship was exposed to great risk, and West was constantly obliged to change his trim in order to avoid the shock of an ice-field. Fortunately the wind blew from east to north nor east, without variation, and it did not freshen. Had a tempest arisen, I know not, would have been come of this schooner, yes, though I do know too well. She would have been lost and all on board of her. In such a case the how-brain could not have escaped. We must have been flung on the base of the barrier. After a long examination Captain Lengai had to renounce the hope of finding a passage through the terrible wall of ice. It remained only to endeavor to reach the southeast point of it. At any rate by following that course we lost nothing in latitude, and in fact on the eighteenth the observation taken made the seventy-third parallel the position of the how-brain. I must repeat, however, that navigation in the Antarctic seas will probably never be accomplished under more felicitous circumstances. The precocity of the summer season, the permanence of the north wind, the temperature forty-nine degrees at the lowest, all this was the best of good fortune. I need not add that we enjoyed perpetual light, and the whole twenty-four hours round the sun's rays reached us from every point of the horizon. Two or three times the Captain approached within two miles of the icebergs. It was impossible but that the vast masses must have been subjected to climatic influences. Ruptures must surely have taken place at some points. But his search had no result, and we had to fall back into the current from west to east. I must observe at this point that during all our search we never described land or the appearance of land out at sea, as indicated on the charts of preceding navigators. These maps are incomplete no doubt, but sufficiently exact in their main lines. I am aware that ships have often passed over the indicated bearings of land. This, however, was not admissible in the case of Salal. If the Jain had been able to reach the islands it was because that portion of the Antarctic sea was free, and in so early a year we need not fear any obstacle in that direction. At last, on the nineteenth, between two and three o'clock in the afternoon, a shout from the crow's nest was heard. What is it? roared west. The iceberg wall is split on the southeast. What is beyond? Nothing in sight. It took west very little time to reach the point of observation, and we all waited below, how impatiently may be imagined. If the lookout were mistaken, is some optical delusion. But west at all events would make no mistake. After ten interminable minutes his clear voice reached us on the deck. Open sea! he cried. Unanimous cheers made answer. The schooner's head was put to the southeast, hugging the wind as much as possible. Two hours later we had doubled the extremity of the ice barrier, and there lay before our eyes a sparkling sea, entirely open. End of Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Of an Antarctic mystery, or the sphinx of the ice fields. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. An Antarctic Mystery by Jules Verne Chapter 14 A Voice in a Dream Entirely free from ice? No. It would have been premature to affirm this as a fact. A few icebergs were visible in the distance, while some drifts and packs were still going east. Nevertheless the break-up had been very thorough on that side, and the sea was in reality open, since a ship could sail freely. God has come to our aid, said Captain Langeye. May he be pleased to guide us to the end. In a week, I remarked, our schooner might come in sight of Salal Island. Provided that the east wind lasts, Mr. Jorling, don't forget that in sailing along the icebergs to their eastern extremity the howl-brain went out of her course, and she must be brought back towards the west. The breeze is for us, Captain. And we shall profit by it, for my intention is to make for Bennett Islet. It was there that my brother first landed, and so soon as we shall have sighted that island, we shall be certain that we are on the right route. Today, when I have ascertained our position exactly, we shall steer for Bennett Islet. Who knows, but we may come upon some fresh sign. It is not impossible, Mr. Jorling. I need not say that recourse was had to the surest guide within our reach, that voracious narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, which I read and re-read with intense attention, fascinated as I was by the idea that I might be permitted to behold with my own eyes those strange phenomena of nature in the Antarctic world, which I, in common with all Edgar Poe's readers, had hitherto regarded as creations of the most imaginative writer, who ever gave voice by his pen to the fantasies of a unique brain. No doubt a great part of the wonders of Arthur Gordon Pym's narrative would prove pure fiction, but even if a little of the marvellous story were found to be true, how great a privilege would be mine. The picturesque and wonderful side of the story we were studying as gospel truth had little charm but the slightest interest for Captain Len Guy. He was indifferent to everything in Pym's narrative that did not relate directly to the castaways of Sallal Island. His mind was solely and constantly set upon their rescue. According to the narrative of Arthur Pym, Jane experienced serious difficulties due to bad weather, from the first to the fourth of January, 1828. It was not until the morning of the fifth in latitude twenty-three degrees fifteen minutes that she found a free passage through the last iceberg that barred her way. The final difference between our position and the Jane in a parallel ease was that the Jane took fifteen days to accomplish the distance of ten degrees or six hundred miles which separated her on the fifth of January from Sallal Island, while on the nineteenth of December the hell-brain was only about seven degrees or four hundred miles off the island. Bennett Islet, where Captain Guy intended to put in for twenty-four hours, was fifty miles nearer. Our voyage was progressing under prosperous conditions. We were no longer visited by sudden hail and snowstorms or those rapid falls of temperature which tried the crew of the Jane so sorely. A few ice-flows drifted by us, occasionally peopled as tourists throng a pleasure-yacht by penguins and also by dusky seals lying flat upon the white surfaces like enormous leeches. Above this strange flotilla we traced the incessant flight of petrels, pigeons, black puffins, divers, grebe, sterns, cormorants, and the city black albatross of the high latitudes. Huge medusas, exquisitely tinted, floated on the water like spread peristles. Among the denizens of the deep, captured by the crew of the schooner, with line and net, I noted more particularly a sort of giant John Dorye, Dorade, three feet in length, with firm and savoury flesh. During the night, or rather ought to have been the night of the nineteenth to twentieth, my sleep was disturbed by a strange dream. Yes, there could be no doubt that it was only a dream, nevertheless, I think it well to record it here. Because it is an additional testimony to the haunting influence under which my brain was beginning to labour. I was sleeping, at two hours after midnight, and was awakened by a plaintive and continuous murmuring sound. I opened, or I imagined I opened my eyes. My cabin was in profound darkness. The murmur began again, I listened, and it seemed to me that a voice, a voice which I did not know, whispered these words. Pym, pym, poor pym. Evidently this could only be a delusion, unless indeed someone had got into my cabin. The door was locked. Pym, repeated the voice, poor pym must never be forgotten. This time the words were spoken so close to my ear, and what was the meaning of the injunction, and why was it addressed to me? And besides had not Pym, after his return to America, met with a sudden and deplorable death, the circumstances or the details being unknown? I began to doubt whether I was in my right mind, and shook myself into complete wakefulness, recognizing that I had been disturbed by an extremely vivid dream due to some cerebral cause. I turned out of my birth, and, pushing back the shutter, looked out of my cabin. No one aft on the deck except Hunt, who was at the helm. I had nothing to do but to lie down again, and this I did. It seemed to me that the name of Arthur Pym was repeated in my hearing several times. Nevertheless I fell asleep and did not wake until morning, when I retained only a vague impression of this occurrence which soon faded away. No other incident at that period of our voyage calls for notice. Nothing particular occurred on board our schooner. The breeze from the north which had forsaken us did not recur, and only the current carried the howl-brain towards the south. This caused a delay unbearable to our impatience. At last, on the twenty-first, the usual observations gave eighty-two degrees, fifty minutes of latitude, and forty-two degrees, twenty minutes of west longitude. Bennett Island, if it had any existence, could not be far off now. Yes, the island did exist and its bearings were those indicated by Arthur Pym. At six o'clock in the evening, one of the crew cried out that there was land ahead on the port side. CHAPTER XIV The howl-brain was then within sight of Bennett Island. The crew urgently needed rest, so the disembarkation was deferred until the following day, and I went back to my cabin. The night passed without disturbance, and when day came not a craft of any kind was visible on the waters, not a native on the beach. There were no hats upon the coast, no smoke arose in the distance to indicate that Bennett Island was inhabited. But William Guy had not found any trace of human beings there, and what I saw of the island answered to the description given by Arthur Pym. It rose upon a rocky base of about a league in circumference, and was so arid that no vegetation existed on its surface. Mr. Jorling, said Captain Len Guy, do you observe a promontory in the direction of the northeast? I observe it, Captain. Is it not formed of heaped-up rocks which look like giant bales of cotton? That is so, and just what the narrative describes. Then all we have to do is land on the promontory, Mr. Jorling. Who knows, but we may come across some vestige of the crew of the Jane, supposing them to have succeeded in escaping from Salah Island. The speaker was devouring the eyelet with his eyes. What must his thoughts, his desires, his impatience have been? But there was a man whose gaze was set upon the same point even more fixedly. That man was hunt. Before we left the Howe-brain, Len Guy enjoined the most minute and careful watchfulness upon his lieutenant. This was a charge which West did not need. Our exploration would take only a half a day at most. If the boat had not returned in the afternoon a second was to be 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 from among the new ones. That will leave four less troublesome fellows on board.' This was a good idea. Four under the deplorable influence of Hearn, the discontent of his shipmates from the Falklands was on the increase. The boat being ready, four of the new crew took their places forward, while Hunt at his own request was a steersman. Captain Len Guy, the boat-son and myself, all well armed, seated ourselves aft, and we started for the northern point of the Islet. In the course of an hour we had doubled the promontory and come out in sight of a little bay whose shores the boats of the Jain had touched. Hunt steered for this bay, gliding with remarkable skill between the rocky points which struck up here and there. One would have thought he knew his way among them. We disembarked on a stony coast. The stones were covered with sparse lichen. The tide was already ebbing, leaving uncovered the sandy bottom of a sort of beach strewn with black blocks resembling big nail-heads. Two men were left in charge of the boat while we landed amid the rocks, and, accompanied by the other two, Captain Len Guy, the boat-son, Hunt and I, proceeded towards the centre, where we found some rising ground, from whence we could see the whole extent of the Islet. But there was nothing to be seen on any side, absolutely nothing. Uncoming down from the slight eminence Hunt went on in front, as it had been agreed that he was to be our guide. We followed him, therefore, as he led us towards the southern extremity of the Islet. Having reached the point, Hunt looked carefully on all sides of him, then stooped and showed us a piece of half-rotten wood lying among the scattered stones. I remember, I exclaimed, Arthur Pym speaks of a piece of wood with traces of carving on it which appeared to have belonged to the bow of a ship. Among the carving my brother fancied he could trace the design of a tortoise, added Captain Len Guy. Just so, I replied, but Arthur Pym pronounced that resemblance doubtful, no matter the piece of wood is still in the same place that is indicated in the narrative. So we may conclude that since the Jain cast anchor here no other crew has set foot upon Bennett Islet. It follows that we should only lose time in looking out for any tokens of another landing. We shall know nothing until we reach Salaul Island. Yes, Salaul Island replied the Captain. We then retraced our steps in the direction of the bay. In various places we observed fragments of coral reef, and Bosch de Mer was so abundant that our schooner might have taken a full cargo of it. Hunt walked on in silence with downcast eyes, until, as we were close enough upon the beach to the east, he being about ten paces ahead, stopped abruptly, and summoned us to him by a hurried gesture. In an instant we were by his side. Hunt had evinced no surprise on the subject of the piece of wood first found, but his attitude changed, when he knelt down in front of a worm-eaten plank lying on the sand. He felt it all over with his huge hands, as though he were seeking some tracery on its rough surface, whose signification might be intelligible to him. The black paint was hidden under the thick dirt that had accumulated upon it. The plank had probably formed part of a ship's stern, as the boson requested us to observe. Yes, yes, repeated Captain Lengai, it made part of a stern. Hunt, who still remained kneeling, nodded his big head in assent. But, I remarked, this plank must have been cast upon Bennett Islet from a wreck. The cross currents must have found it in the open sea-end. 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 us eight letters, cut in the plank, not painted, but hollow and distinctly traceable with the finger. It was only too easy to recognize the letters of two names arranged in two lines, thus A-N-L-I-E-P-O-L. The Jane of the Liverpool, the schooner commanded by Captain William Guy, 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 she belonged to, the Jane of the Liverpool? Captain Lengai had taken the plank in his hands, and now he pressed his lips to it, while tears fell from his eyes. It was a fragment of the Jane. I did not utter a word until the captain's emotion had subsided. As for Hunt, I had never seen such a lightening glance from his brilliant hawk-like eyes as he now cast towards the southern horizon. Captain Lengai rose. Hunt, without a word, placed the plank on his shoulder and we continued our route. When we had made the tour of the island, we halted at the place where the boat had been left under the charge of two sailors, and about half-past two in the afternoon we were again on board. Beyond in the morning of the twenty-third of December, the how-brain put off from Bennett Islet, and we carried away with us new and convincing testimony to the catastrophe which Salau Island had witnessed. During the day I observed the sea water very attentively, and it seemed to me less deeply blue than Arthur Pym describes it. Nor had we met a single specimen of his monster of the Australphana, an animal three feet long, six inches high, with four short legs, long coral claws, a silky body, a rat's tail, a cat's head, the hanging ears, blood-red lips, and white teeth of a dog. The truth is that I regarded several of these details as suspect, and entirely due to an over-imaginative temperament. Seated far aft in the ship, I read Edgar Poe's book with sedulous attention, but I was not unaware of the fact that Hunt, whenever his duties furnished him with an opportunity, observed me pertinaciously and with looks of singular meaning. And in fact I was re-perusing the end of Chapter 17 in which Arthur Pym acknowledged his responsibility for the sad and tragic events which were the result of his advice. It was, in fact, he who over-persuaded Captain William Guy, urging him to profit by so tempting an opportunity of solving the great problem relating to the Antarctic continent. And besides, while accepting that responsibility, did he not congratulate himself on having been the instrument of a great discovery, and having aided in some degree to reveal to science one of the most marvelous secrets which had ever claimed its attention? At six o'clock the sun disappeared behind a thick curtain of mist. After midnight the breeze freshened and the hell-brains' progress marked a dozen additional miles. On the moral the good ship was less than the third of a degree, that is to say, less than twenty miles from Salel Island. Unfortunately, just after midday, the wind fell. Nevertheless, thanks to the current, the Island of Salel was signaled at forty-five minutes past six in the evening. The anchor was cast, a watch was set, with loaded firearms within hand-reach, and boarding nets ready.