An Antarctic Mystery (15 page)

Unanimous cheers made answer.

The schooner's head was put to the south-east, 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.

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 Len Guy. "May He be
pleased to guide us to the end."

"In a week," I remarked, "our schooner might come in sight of
Tsalal Island."

"Provided that the east wind lasts, Mr. Jeorling. Don't forget
that in sailing along the icebergs to their eastern extremity, the
Halbrane
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 Bennet
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. To-day, when I have ascertained our position
exactly, we shall steer for Bennet Islet."

"Who knows but that we may come upon some fresh sign?"

"It is not impossible, Mr. Jeorling."

I need not say that recourse was had to the surest guide within our
reach, that veracious 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
phantasies of a unique brain. No doubt a great part of the wonders
of Arthur Gordon Pym's narrative would prove pure fiction, but if
even 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 and but slight interest for Captain
Len Guy; he was indifferent to everything in Pym's narrative that
did not relate directly to the castaways of Tsalal 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 1st to the 4th of
January, 1828. It was not until the morning of the 5th, in latitude
23° 15' 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 5th of January from Tsalal Island, while on the
19th of December the
Halbrane
was only about seven degrees, or four
hundred miles, off the island. Bennet 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 snow storms, or those rapid falls
of temperature which tried the crew of the
Jane
so sorely. A few
ice-floes 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 sooty-black
albatross of the high latitudes. Huge medusas, exquisitely tinted,
floated on the water like spread parasols. 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 Dory
[4]
(
dorade
) three
feet in length, with firm and savoury flesh.

During the night, or rather what ought to have been the night of the
19th-20th, my sleep was disturbed by a strange dream. Yes! there
could be no doubt but 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, some one
had got into my cabin: the door was locked.

"Pym!" the voice repeated. "Poor Pym must never be
forgotten."

This time the words were spoken close to my ear. 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 berth, 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
Halbrane
towards the south. This caused
a delay unbearable to our impatience.

At last, on the 21st, the usual observation gave 82° 50' of
latitude, and 42° 20' of west longitude. Bennet Islet, if it had
any existence, could not be far off now.

Yes! the islet 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.

The
Halbrane
was then within sight of Bennet Islet! 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 huts upon the coast, no smoke arose in the distance to
indicate that Bennet Islet was inhabited. But William Guy had not
found any trace of human beings there, and what I saw of the islet
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. Jeorling," said Captain Len Guy, "do you observe a
promontory in the direction of the north-east?"

"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 to land on the promontory, Mr. leoding.
Who knows but we may come across some vestige of the crew of the
fane, supposing them to have succeeded in escaping from Tsalal
Island."

The speaker was devouring the islet 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
Halbrane
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 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, for, under the deplorable influence of Hearne,
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 steersman.
Captain Len Guy, the boatswain 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 in
sight of the little bay whose shores the boats of the fane had
touched.

Hunt steered for this bay, gliding with remarkable skill between the
rocky points which stuck 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
boatswain, 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. On coming 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 carefullyon 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
Jane
cast anchor here no other crew has ever set foot
upon Bennet 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 Tsalal Island."

"Yes, Tsalal 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 bêche-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
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 sotne 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 boatswain requested us to observe.

"Yes, yes," repeated Captain Len Guy, "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 Bennet
Islet from a wreck! The cross-currents must have found it in the
open sea, and—"

"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:

 AN
LI E PO L

The
Jane of 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 Liverpool!

Captain Len Guy 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 lightning glance from his brilliant hawk-like eyes as he now cast
towards the southern horizon.

Captain Len Guy rose.

Hunt, without a word, placed the plank upon 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.

Early on the morning of the 23rd of December the
Halbrane
put off
from Bennet Islet, and we carried away with us new and convincing
testimony to the catastrophe which Tsalal Island had witnessed.

During that 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 austral fauna, an
animal three feet long, six inches high, with fourshort 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 toan over-imaginative temperament.