An Antarctic Mystery (30 page)

"Absolutely."

"Then I cannot understand how it came to the knowledge of
Hearne."

"At first," I replied, "I thought Hearne might have talked in
his sleep, and that it was by chance Martin Holt learned the secret.
After reflection, however, I recalled to mind that when the
half-breed related the scene on the
Grampus
to me, he was in my
cabin, and the side sash was raised. I have reason to think that the
man at the wheel overheard our conversation. Now that man was
Hearne, who, in order to hear it more clearly, let go the wheel, so
that the
Halbrane
lurched—"

"I remember," said West. "I questioned the fellow sharply, and
sent him clown into the hold."

"Well, then, captain," I resumed, "it was from that day that
Hearne made up to Martin Holt. Hurliguerly called my attention to
the fact."

"Of course he did," said the boatswain, "for Hearne, not being
capable of managing the boat which he intended to seize, required a
master-hand like Holt."

"And so," I said, "he kept on urging Holt to question the
half-breed concerning his brother's fate, and you know how Holt
came at last to learn the fearful truth. Martin Holt seemed to be
stupefied by the revelation. The others dragged him away, and now he
is with them!" We were all agreed that things had happened as I
supposed, and now the question was, did Dirk Peters, in his present
state of mind, mean to absent himself? Would he consent to resume
his place among us?

We all left the cavern, and after an hour's search we came in
sight of Dirk Peters, whose first impulse was to escape from us. At
length, however, Hurliguerly and Francis came up with him. He stood
still and made no resistance. I advanced and spoke to him, the
others did the same. Captain Len Guy offered him his hand, which he
took after a moment's hesitation. Then, without uttering a single
word, he returned towards the beach.

From that day no allusion was ever made to the tragic story of the
Grampus
. Dirk Peters' wound proved to be slight; he merely wrapped
a piece of sailcloth round the injured arm, and went off to his work
with entire unconcern.

We made all the preparation in our power for a prolonged
hibernation. Winter was threatening us. For some days past the sun
hardly showed at all through the mists. The temperature fell to 36
degrees and would rise no more, while the solar rays, casting
shadows of endless length upon the soil, gave hardly any heat. The
captain made us put on warm woollen clothes without waiting for the
cold to become more severe.

Icebergs, packs, streams, and drifts came in greater numbers from
the south. Some of these struck and stayed upon the coast, which was
already heaped up with ice, but the greater number disappeared in
the direction of the north-east.

"All these pieces," said the boatswain, "will go to the
closing up of the iceberg wall. If Hearne and his lot of scoundrels
are not ahead of them, I imagine they will find the door shut, and
as they have no key to open it with—"

"I suppose you think, boatswain, that our case is less desperate
than theirs?"

"I do think so, Mr. Jeorling, and I have always thought so. If
everything had been done as it was settled, and the lot had fallen
to me to go with the boat, I would have given up my turn to one of
the others. After all, there is something in feeling dry ground
under our feet. I don't wish the death of anybody, but if Hearne
and his friends do not succeed in clearing the iceberg barrier—if
they are doomed to pass the winter on the ice, reduced for food to a
supply that will only last a few weeks, you know the fate that
awaits them?"

"Yes, a fate worse than ours!"

"And besides," said the boatswain, "even supposing they do
reach the Antarctic Circle. If the whalers have already left the
fishing-grounds, it is not a laden and overladen craft that will
keep the sea until the Australian coasts are in sight."

This was my own opinion, and also that of the captain and West.

During the following four days, we completed the storage of the
whole of our belongings, and made some excursions into the interior
of the country, finding "all barren," and not a trace that any
landing had ever been made there.

One day, Captain Len Guy proposed that we should give a geographical
name to the region whither the iceberg had carried us. It was named
Halbrane Land, in memory of our schooner, and we called the strait
that separated the two parts of the polar continent the
Jane
Sound.

Then we took to shooting the penguins which swarmed upon the rocks,
and to capturing some of the amphibious animals which frequented the
beach. We began to feel the want of fresh meat, and Endicott's
cooking rendered seal and walrus flesh quite palatable. Besides, the
fat of these creatures would serve, at need, to warm the cavern and
feed the cooking-stove. Our most formidable enemy would be the cold,
and we must fight it by every means within our power. It remained
to be seen whether the amphibia would not forsake Halbrane Land at
the approach of winter, and seek a less rigorous climate in lower
latitudes. Fortunately there were hundreds of other animals to
secure our little company from hunger, and even from thirst, at
need. The beach was the home of numbers of galapagos—a kind of
turtle so called from an archipelago in the equinoctial sea, where
also they abound, and mentioned by Arthur Pym as supplying food to
the islanders, It will be remembered that Pym and Peters found three
of these galapagos in the native boat which carried them away from
Tsalal Island.

The movement of these huge creatures is slow, heavy, and waddling;
they have thin necks two feet long, triangular snake-like heads, and
can go without food for very long periods.

Arthur Pym has compared the antarctic turtles to dromedaries,
because, like those ruminants, they have a pouch just where the neck
begins, which contains from two to three gallons of cold fresh
water. He relates, before the scene of the lot-drawing, that but for
one of these turtles the shipwrecked crew of the
Grampus
must have
died of hunger and thirst. If Pym is to be believed, some of the
great turtles weigh from twelve to fifteen hundred pounds. Those of
Halbrane Land did not go beyond seven or eight hundred pounds, but
their flesh was none the less savoury.

On the 19th of February an incident occurred—an incident which
those who acknowledge the intervention of Providence in human
affairs will recognize as providential.

It was eight o'clock in the morning; the weather was calm; the sky
was tolerably clear; the thermometer stood at thirty-two degrees
Fahrenheit.

We were assembled in the cavern, with the exception of the
boatswain, waiting for our breakfast, which Endicott was preparing,
and were about to take our places at table, when we heard a call
from outside.

The voice was Hurliguerly's, and we hurried out. On seeing us, he
cried,—

"Come—come quickly?"

He was standing on a rock at the foot of the hillock above the beach
in which Halbrahe Land ended beyond the point, and his right hand
was stretched out towards the sea.

"What is it?" asked Captain Len Guy.

"A boat."

"Is it the
Halbrane's
boat coming back?"

"No, captain—it is not."

Then we perceived a boat, not to be mistaken for that of our
schooner in form or dimensions, drifting without oars or paddle,
seemingly abandoned to the current.

We had but one idea in common—to seize at any cost upon this
derelict craft, which would, perhaps, prove our salvation. But how
were we to reach it? how were we to get it in to the point of
Halbrane Land?

While we were looking distractedly at the boat and at each other,
there came a sudden splash at the end of the hillock, as though a
body had fallen into the sea.

It was Dirk Peters, who, having flung off his clothes, had sprung
from the top of a rock, and was swimming rapidly towards the boat
before we made him out.

We cheered him heartily. I never beheld anything like that swimming.
He bounded through the waves like a porpoise, and indeed he
possessed the strength and swiftness of one. What might not be
expected of such a man!

In a few minutes the half-breed had swum several cables' lengths
towards the boat in an oblique direction. We could only see his head
like a black speck on the surface of the rolling waves. A period of
suspense, of intense watching of the brave swimmer succeeded.
Surely, surely he would reach the boat; but must he not be carried
away with it? Was it to be believed that even his great strength
would enable him, swimming, to tow it to the beach?

"After all, why should there not be oars in the boat?" said the
boatswain.

"He has it! He has it! Hurrah, Dirk, hurrah!" shouted
Hurliguerly, and Endicott echoed his exultant cheer.

The half-breed had, in fact, reached the boat and raised himself
alongside half out of the water. His big, strong hand grasped the
side, and at the risk of causing the boat to capsize, he hoisted
himself up to the side, stepped over it, and sat down to draw his
breath.

Almost instantly a shout reached our cars. It was uttered by Dirk
Peters. What had he found? Paddles! It must be so, for we saw him
seat himself in the front of the boat, and paddle with all his
strength in striving to get out of the current.

"Come along?" said the captain, and, turning the base of the
hillock, we all ran along the edge of the beach between the blackish
stones that bestrewed it.

After some time, West stopped us. The boat had reached the shelter
of a small projection at that place, and it was evident that it
would be run ashore there.

When it was within five or six cables' lengths, and the eddy was
helping it on, Dirk Peters let go the paddles, stooped towards the
after-part of the boat, and then raised himself, holding up an inert
body.

An agonized cry from Captain Len Guy rent the air!

"My brother—my brother?"

"He is living! He is living!" shouted Dirk Peters.

A moment later, the boat had touched the beach, and Captain Len Guy
held his brother in his arms.

Three of William Guy's companions lay apparently lifeless in the
bottom of the boat.

And these four men were all that remained of the crew of the
Jane
.

The heading of the following chapter indicates that the adventures
of William Guy and his companions after destruction of the English
schooner, and the details of their history subsequent to the
departure of Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters, are about to be narrated
with all possible brevity.

We carried our treasure-trove to the cavern, and had happiness of
restoring all four men to life. In reality, it was hunger, nothing
but hunger, which had reduced the poor fellows to the semblance of
death.

On the 8th of February, 1828, the crew of the
Jane
, having no reason
to doubt the good faith of the population of Tsalal Island, or that
of their chief, Too-Wit, disembarked, in order to visit the village
of Klock-Klock, having previously put the schooner into a state of
defense, leaving six men on board.

The crew, counting William Guy, the captain, Arthur Pym, and Dirk
Peters, formed a body of thirty-two men armed with guns, pistols,
and knives. The dog Tiger accompanied them.

On reaching the narrow gorge leading to the village preceded and
followed by the numerous warriors of Too Wit, the little company
divided, Arthur Pym, Dirk Peters, and Allen (the sailor) entering a
cleft in the hill-side with the intention of crossing it to the
other side. From that moment their companions were never to see them
more.

After a short interval a shock was felt. The opposite hill fell down
in a vast heap, burying William Guy and his twenty-eight companions.

Twenty-two of these unfortunate men were crushed to death on the
instant, and their bodies would never be found under that mass of
earth.

Seven, miraculously sheltered in the depth of a great cleft of the
hill, had survived the catastrophe. These were William Guy,
Patterson, Roberts, Coyin, Trinkle, also Forbes and Sexton, since
dead. As for Tiger, they knew not whether he had perished in the
landslip, or whether he had escaped. There existed in the right side
of the hill, as well as in the left, on either side of the fissure,
certain winding passages, and it was by crawling along these in the
darkness that William Guy, Patterson, and the others reached a
cavity which let in light and air in abundance. From this shelter
they beheld the attack on the
Jane
by sixty pirogues, the defence
made by the six men on board; the invasion of the ship by the
savages, and finally the explosion which caused the death of a vast
number of natives as well as the complete destruction of the ship.

Too-Wit and the Tsalal islanders were at first terrified by the
effects of this explosion, but probably still more disappointed.
Their instincts of pillage could not be gratified, because some
valueless wreckage was all that remained of the ship and her cargo,
and they had no reason to suppose that any of the crew had survived
the cleverly contrived collapse of the hill. Hence it came about
that Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters on the one side, and William Guy and
his companions on the other, were enabled to remain undisturbed in
the labyrinths of Klock-Klock, where they fed on the flesh of
bitterns—these they could catch with their hands—and the fruit
of the nut-trees which grow on the hill-sides. They procured fire by
rubbing pieces of soft against pieces of hard wood; there was a
quantity of both within their reach.

After a whole week of this confinement, Arthur Pym and the
half-breed had succeeded, as we know, in leaving their hiding-place,
securing a boat, and abandoning Tsalal Island, but William Guy and
his companions had not yet found an opportunity to escape.