An Antarctic Mystery (29 page)

No one. No one.

At this moment, West, who had been observing certain points of
approach, said,—

"Let us wait a little before we come to a decision. In less than
an hour we shall be able to decide. Our speed is slackening, it
seems to me, and it is possible that an eddy may bring us back
obliquely to the coast."

"That is my opinion too," said the boatswain, "and if our
floating machine is not stationary, it is nearly so. It seems to be
turning round."

West and Hurliguerly were not mistaken. For some reason or other the
iceberg was getting out of the course which it had followed
continuously. A giratory movement had succeeded to that of drifting,
owing to the action of an eddy which set towards the coast.

Besides, several ice-mountains, in front of us, had just run aground
on the edge of the shore. It was, then, useless to discuss whether
we should take to the boat or not. According as we approached, the
desolation of the land became more and more apparent, and the
prospect of enduring six months' wintering there would have
appalled the stoutest hearts.

At five in the afternoon, the iceberg plunged into a deep rift in
the coast ending in a long point on the right, and there stuck fast.

"On shore! On shore!" burst from every man, like a single
exclamation, and the men were already hurrying down the slope of the
iceberg, when West commanded:

"Wait for orders!"

Some hesitation was shown—especially on the part of Hearne and
several of his comrades. Then the instinct of discipline prevailed,
and finally the whole crew ranged themselves around Captain Len Guy.
It was not necessary to lower the boat, the iceberg being in contact
with the point.

The captain, the boatswain, and myself, preceding the others, were
the first to quit the camp; ours were the first human feet to tread
this virgin and volcanic soil.

We walked for twenty minutes on rough land, strewn with rocks of
igneous origin, solidified lava, dusty slag, and grey ashes, but
without enough clay to grow even the hardiest plants.

With some risk and difficulty, Captain Len Guy, the boatswain, and I
succeeded in climbing the hill; this exploit occupied a whole hour.
Although evening had now come, it brought no darkness in its train.
From the top of the hill we could see over an extent of from thirty
to forty miles, and this was what we saw.

Behind us lay the open sea, laden with floating masses; a great
number of these had recently heaped themselves up against the beach
and rendered it almost inaccessible.

On the west was a strip of hilly land, which extended beyond our
sight, and was washed on its east side by a boundless sea. It was
evident that we had been carried by the drift through a strait.

Ah! if we had only had our
Halbrane
! But our sole possession was a
frail craft barely capable of containing a dozen men, and we were
twenty-three!

There was nothing for it but to go down to the shore again, to carry
the tents to the beach, and take measures in view of a winter
sojourn under the terrible conditions imposed upon us by
circumstances.

On our return to the coast the boatswain discovered several caverns
in the granitic cliffs, sufficiently spacious to house us all and
afford storage for the cargo of the
Halbrane
. Whatever might be our
ultimate decision, we could not do better than place our material
and instal ourselves in this opportune shelter.

After we had reascended the slopes of the iceberg and reached our
camp, Captain Len Guy had the men mustered. The only missing man was
Dirk Peters, who had decidedly isolated himself from the crew. There
was nothing to fear from him, however; he would be with the faithtul
against the mutinous, and under all circumstanceswe might count upon
him. When the circle had been formed, Captain Len Guy spoke, without
allowing any sign of discouragement to appear, and explained the
position with the utmost frankness and lucidity, stating in the
first place that it was absolutely necessary to lower the cargo to
the coast and stow it away in one of the caverns. Concerning the
vital question of food, he stated that the supply of flour,
preserved meat, and dried vegetables would suffice for the winter,
however prolonged, and on that of fuel he was satisfied that we
should not want for coal, provided it was not wasted; and it would
be possible to economize it, as the hibernating waifs might brave
the cold of the polar zone under a covering of snow and a roof of
ice.

Was the captain's tone of security feigned? I did not think so,
especially as West approved of what he said.

A third question raised by Hearne remained, and was well calculated
to arouse jealousy and anger among the crew. It was the question of
the use to be made of the only craft remaining to us. Ought the boat
to be kept for the needs of our hibernation, or used to enable us to
return to the iceberg barrier?

Captain Len Guy would not pronounce upon this; he desired to
postpone the decision for twenty-four or forty-eight hours. The
boat, carrying the provisions necessary for such a voyage, could not
accommodate more than eleven or, at the outside, twelve men. If the
departure of the boat were agreed to, then its passengers must be
selected by lot. The captain proceeded to state that neither West,
the boatswain, I, nor he would claim any privilege, but would submit
to the fortune of the lot with all the others. Both Martin Holt and
Hardy were perfectly capable of taking the boat to the
fishing-grounds, where the whalers would still be found.

Then, those to whom the lot should fall were not to forget their
comrades, left to winter on the eighty-sixth parallel, and were to
send a ship to take them off at the return of summer.

All this was said in a tone as calm as it was firm. I must do
Captain Len Guy the justice to say that he rose to the occasion.

When he had concluded—without any interruption even from
Hearne—no one made a remark. There was, indeed, none to be made,
since, in the given case, lots were to be drawn under conditions of
perfect equality.

The hour of rest having arrived, each man entered the camp, partook
of the supper prepared by Endicott, and went to sleep for the last
time under the tents.

Dirk Peters had not reappeared, and I sought for him in vain.

On the following day, the 7th of February, everybody set to work
early with a will. The boat was let down with all due precaution to
the base of the iceberg, and drawn up by the men on a little sandy
beach out of reach of the water. It was in perfectly good condition,
and thoroughly serviceable.

The boatswain then set to work on the former contents of the
Halbrane
, furniture, bedding, sails, clothing, instruments, and
utensils. Stowed away in a cabin, these things would no longer be
exposed to the knocking about and damage of the iceberg. The cases
containing preserved food and the casks of spirits were rapidly
carried ashore.

I worked with the captain and West at this onerous task, and Dirk
Peters also turned up and lent the valuable assistance of his great
strength, but he did not utter a word to anyone.

Our occupation continual on the 8th, 9th, and 10th February, and our
task was finished in the afternoon of the 10th. The cargo was safely
stowed in the interior of a large grotto, with access to it by a
narrow opening. We were to inhabit the adjoining grotto, and
Endicott set up his kitchen in the latter, on the advice of the
boatswain. Thus we should profit by the heat of the stove, which was
to cook our food and warm the cavern during the long days, or rather
the long nights of the austral winter.

During the process of housing and storing, I observed nothing to
arouse suspicion in the bearing of Hearne and the Falklands men.
Nevertheless, the half-breed was kept on guard at the boat, which
might easily have been seized upon the beach.

Hurliguerly, who observed his comrades closely, appeared less
anxious.

On that same evening Captain Len Guy, having reassembled his people,
stated that the question should be discussed on the morrow, adding
that, if it were decided in the affirmative, lots should be drawn
immediately. No reply was made.

It was late, and half dark outside, for at this date the sun was on
the edge of the horizon, and would very soon disappear below it.

I had been asleep for some hours when I was awakened by a great
shouting at a short distance. I sprang up instantly and darted out
of lhe cavern, simultaneously with the captain and West, who had
also been suddenly aroused from sleep.

"The boat! the boat!" cried West.

The boat was no longer in its place—that place so jealously
guarded by Dirk Peters.

After they had pushed the boat into the sea, three men had got into
it with bales and casks, while ten others strove to control the
half-breed.

Hearne was there, and Martin Holt also; the latter, it seemed to me,
was not interfering.

These wretches, then, intended to depart before the lots were drawn;
they meant to forsake us. They had succeeded in surprising Dirk
Peters, and they would have killed him, had he not fought hard for
life.

In the face of this mutiny, knowing our inferiority of numbers, and
not knowing whether he might count on all the old crew, Captain Len
Guy re-entered the cavern with West in order to procure arms. Hearne
and his accomplices were armed.

I was about to follow them when the following words arrested my
steps.

The half-breed, overpowered by numbers, had been knocked down, and
at this moment Martin Holt, in gratitude to the man who saved his
life, was rushing to his aid, but Hearne called out to him,—

"Leave the fellow alone, and come with us!"

Martin Holt hesitated.

"Yes, leave him alone, I say; leave Dirk Peters, the assassin of
your brother, alone."

"The assassin of my brolher!"

"Your brother, killed on board the
Grampus
—"

"Killed! by Dirk Peters?"

"Yes! Killed and eaten—eaten—eaten!" repeated Hearne, who
pronounced the hateful worms with a kind of howl.

And then, at a sign from Hearne, two of his comrades seized Martin
Holt and dragged him into the boat. Hearne was instantly followed by
all those whom he had induced to join in this criminal deed.

At that moment Dirk Peters rose from the ground, and sprang upon one
of the Falklands men as he was in the act of stepping on the
platform of the boat, lifted him up bodily, hurled him round his
head and dashed his brains out against a rock.

In an instant the half-breed fell, shot in the shoulder by a bullet
from Hearne's pistol, and the boat was pushed off.

Then Captain Len Guy and West came out of the cavern—the whole
scene had passed in less than a minute—and ran down to the point,
which they reached together with the boatswain, Hardy, Francis, and
Stern.

The boat, which was drawn by the current, was already some distance
off, and the tide was falling rapidly.

West shouldered his gun and fired; a sailor dropped into the bottom
of the boat. A second shot, fired by Captain Len Guy, grazed
Hearne's breast, and the ball was lost among the ice-blocks at the
moment when the boat disappeared behind the iceberg.

The only thing for us to do was to cross to the other side of the
point. The current would carry the wretches thither, no doubt,
before it bore them northsyard. If they passed within range, and if
a second shot should hit Hearne, either killing or wounding him, his
companions might perhaps decide on coming back to us.

A quarter of an hour elapsed. When the boat appeared at the other
side of the point, it was so far off that our bullets could not
reach it. Hearne had already had the sail set, and the boat,
impelled by wind and current jointly, was soon no more than a white
speck on the face of the waters, and speedily disappeared.

The question of our wintering on the land whereon we had been thrown
was settled for us. But, after all, the situation was not changed
for those among the nine (now only remaining of the twenty-three)
who should not have drawn the lot of departure. Who could speculate
upon the chances of the whole nine? Might not all of them have drawn
the lot of "stay"? And, when every chance was fully weighed, was
that of those who had left us the best? To this question there could
be no answer.

When the boat had disappeared, Captain Len Guy and his companions
retraced their steps towards the cavern in which we must live for
all the time during which we could not go out, in the dread darkness
of the antarctic winter. My first thought was of Dirk Peters, who,
being wounded, could not follow us when we hurried to the other side
of the point.

On reaching the cavern I failed to find the half-breed, Was he
severely wounded? Should we have to mourn the death of this man who
was as faithful to us as to his "poor Pym"?

"Let us search for him, Mr. Jeorling!" cried the boatswain.

"We will go together," said the captain. "Dirk Peters would never
have forsaken us, and we will not forsake him."

"Would he come back," said I, "now that what he thought was
known to him and me only has come out?"

I informed my companions of the reason why the name of Ned Holt had
been changed to that of Parker in Arthur Pym's narrative, and of
the circumstances under which the half-breed had apprised me of the
fact. At the same time I urged every consideration that might
exculpate him, dwelling in particular upon the point that if the lot
had fallen to Dirk Peters, he would have been the victim of the
others' hunger.

"Dirk Peters confided this secret to you only?" inquired Captain
Len Guy.

"To me only, captain."

"And you have kept it?"