An Antarctic Mystery - Jules Verne (good summer reads TXT) 📗

fugleman to his comrades, who almost unanimously added their cheers to his. Hearne offered no farther opposition; it would always be in his power to put in his word when the stances should be more propitious.

Thus the bargain was made, and, to gain my ends, I have made a heavier sacrifice. It is true we were within seven degrees of the South and, if the Halbrane should indeed reach that spot, it would never cost me more than fourteen thousand dollars.

Early in the morning of the 27th of December the Halbrane put out to sea, heading southwest.

After the scene of the preceding evening Captain Len Guy had taken a few hours’ rest. I met him next day on deck while West was going about fore and aft, and he called us both to him.

“Mr. Jeorling,” he said, “it was with a terrible pang that I came to the resolution to bring our schooner back to the north! I felt I had not done all I ought to do for our unhappy fellow-countrymen: but I knew that the majority of the crew would be against me if I insisted on going beyond Tsalal Island.”

“That is true, captain; there was a beginning of indiscipline on board, and perhaps it might have ended in a revolt.”

“A revolt we should have speedily put down,” said West, coolly, “were it only by knocking Hearne, who is always exciting the mutinous men, on the head.”

“And you would have done well, Jem,” said the captain. “Only, justice being satisfied, what would have become of the agreement together, which we must have in order to do anything?”

“Of course, captain, it is better that things passed off without violence! But for the future Hearne will have to look out for himself.”

“His companions,” observed the captain, “are now greedy for the prizes that have been promised them. The greed of gain will make them more willing and persevering. The generosity of Mr. Jeorling has succeeded where our entreaties would undoubtedly have failed. I thank him for it.”

Captain Len Guy held out a hand to me, which I grasped cordially.

After some general conversation relating to our purpose, the ship’s course, and the proposed verification of the bearings of the group of islands on the west of Tsalal which is described by Arthur Pym, the captain said⁠—

“As it is possible that the ravages of the earthquake did not extend to this group, and that it may still be inhabited, we must be on our guard in approaching the bearings.”

“Which cannot be very far off,” I added. “And then, captain, who knows but that your brother and his sailors might have taken refuge on one of these islands!”

This was admissible, but not a consoling eventuality, for in that case the poor fellows would have fallen into the hands of those savages of whom they were rid while they remained at Tsalal.

“Jem,” resumed Captain Len Guy, “we are making good way, and no doubt land will be signalled in a few hours. Give orders for the watch to be careful.”

“It’s done, captain.”

“There is a man in the crow’s-nest?”

“Dirk Peters himself, at his own request.”

“All right, Jem; we may trust his vigilance.”

“And also his eyes,” I added, “for he is gifted with amazing sight.”

For two hours of very quick sailing not the smallest indication of the group of eight islands was visible.

“It is incomprehensible that we have not come in sight of them,” said the captain. “I reckon that the Halbrane has made sixty miles since this morning, and the islands in question are tolerably close together.”

“Then, captain, we must conclude⁠—and it is not unlikely⁠—that the group to which Tsalal belonged has entirely disappeared in the earthquake.”

“Land ahead!” cried Dirk Peters.

We looked, but could discern nothing on the sea, nor was it until a quarter of an hour had elapsed that our glasses enabled us to recognize the tops of a few scattered islets shining in the oblique rays of the sun, two or three miles to the westward.

What a change! How had it come about? Arthur Pym described spacious islands, but only a small number of tiny islets, half a dozen at most, protruded from the waters.

At this moment the half-breed came sliding down from his lofty perch and jumped to the deck.

“Well, Dirk Peters! Have you recognized the group?” asked the captain.

“The group?” replied the half-breed, shaking his head. “No, I have only seen the tops of five or six islets. There is nothing but stone heaps there⁠—not a single island!”

As the schooner approached we easily recognized these fragments of the group, which had been almost entirely destroyed on its western side. The scattered remains formed dangerous reefs which might seriously injure the keel or the sides of the Halbrane, and there was no intention of risking the ship’s safety among them. We accordingly cast anchor at a safe distance, and a boat was lowered for the reception of Captain Len Guy, the boatswain, Dirk Peters, Holt, two men and myself. The still, transparent water, as Peters steered us skilfully between the projecting edges of the little reefs, allowed us to see, not a bed of sand strewn with shells, but heaps which were overgrown by land vegetation, tufts plants not belonging to the marine flora that floated the surface of the sea. Presently we landed on one of the larger islets which rose to about thirty feet above the sea.

“Do the tides rise sometimes to that height?” I inquired of the captain.

“Never,” he replied, “and perhaps we shall discover some remains of the vegetable kingdom, of habitations, or of an encampment.”

“The best thing we can do,” said the boatswain, “is to follow Dirk Peters, who has already distanced us. The half-breed’s lynx eyes will see what we can’t.”

Peters had indeed scaled the eminence in a moment, and we presently joined him on the top.

The islet was strewn with remains (probably of those domestic animals mentioned in Arthur Pym’s journal), but these bones differed from the bones on Tsalal Island by