[Redactor's Note: _An Antarctic Mystery_ (Number V046 in the T&M
numerical listing of Verne's works) is a translation of _Le Sphinx
de Glaces_ (1897) translated by Mrs. Cashel Hoey who also translated
other Verne works.]
AN ANTARCTIC MYSTERY
BY
JULES VERNE
TRANSLATED BY MRS. CASHEL HOEY
ILLUSTRATED
1899
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
The _Tasman_ to the rescue
The approach of the _Halbrane_
Going aboard the _Halbrane_
Cook's route was effectually barred by ice-floes
Taking in sail under difficulties
"There, look there! That's a fin-back!"
Hunt to the rescue
Four sailors at the oars, and one at the helm
Hunt extended his enormous hand, holding a metal collar
Dirk Peters shows the way
The half-breed in the crow's-nest
The _Halbrane_ fast in the iceberg
The _Halbrane_, staved in, broken up
"I was afraid; I got away from him"
William Guy
An Antarctic Mystery
The _Paracuta_
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
Chapter I. The Kerguelen Islands.
Chapter II. The Schooner _Halbrane_
Chapter III. Captain Len Guy
Chapter IV. From the Kerguelen Isles to Prince Edward Island
Chapter V. Edgar Poe's Romance
Chapter VI. An Ocean Waif
Chapter VII. Tristan D'Acunha
Chapter VIII. Bound for the Falklands
Chapter IX. Fitting out the _Halbrane_
Chapter X. The Outset of the Enterprise
Chapter XI. From the Sandwich Islands to the Polar Circle
Chapter XII. Between the Polar Circle and the Ice Wall
Chapter XIII. Along the Front of the Icebergs
Chapter XIV. A Voice in a Dream
Chapter XV. Bennet Islet
Chapter XVI. Tsalal Island
Chapter XVII. And Pym
Chapter XVIII. A Revelation
Chapter XIX. Land
Chapter XX. "Unmerciful Disaster"
Chapter XXI. Amid the Mists
Chapter XXII. In Camp
Chapter XXIII. Found at Last
Chapter XXIV. Eleven Years in a Few Pages
Chapter XXV. "We Were the First"
Chapter XXVI. A Little Remnant
AN ANTARCTIC MYSTERY
(Also called THE SPHINX OF THE ICE FIELDS)
CHAPTER I.
THE KERGUELEN ISLANDS.
No doubt the following narrative will be received with entire
incredulity, but I think it well that the public should be put in
possession of the facts narrated in "An Antarctic Mystery." The
public is free to believe them or not, at its good pleasure.
No more appropriate scene for the wonderful and terrible adventures
which I am about to relate could be imagined than the Desolation
Islands, so called, in 1779, by Captain Cook. I lived there for
several weeks, and I can affirm, on the evidence of my own eyes and
my own experience, that the famous English explorer and navigator
was happily inspired when he gave the islands that significant name.
Geographical nomenclature, however, insists on the name of
Kerguelen, which is generally adopted for the group which lies in
49° 45' south latitude, and 69° 6' east longitude. This is
just, because in 1772, Baron Kerguelen, a Frenchman, was the first
to discover those islands in the southern part of the Indian Ocean.
Indeed, the commander of the squadron on that voyage believed that
he had found a new continent on the limit of the Antarctic seas, but
in the course of a second expedition he recognized his error. There
was only an archipelago. I may be believed when I assert that
Desolation Islands is the only suitable name for this group of three
hundred isles or islets in the midst of the vast expanse of ocean,
which is constantly disturbed by austral storms.
Nevertheless, the group is inhabited, and the number of Europeans
and Americans who formed the nucleus of the Kerguelen population at
the date of the 2nd of August, 1839, had been augmented for two
months past by a unit in my person. Just then I was waiting for an
opportunity of leaving the place, having completed the geological
and mineralogical studies which had brought me to the group in
general and to Christmas Harbour in particular.
Christmas Harbour belongs to the most important islet of the
archipelago, one that is about half as large as Corsica. It is safe,
and easy, and free of access. Your ship may ride securely at single
anchor in its waters, while the bay remains free from ice.
The Kerguelens possess hundreds of other fjords. Their coasts are
notched and ragged, especially in the parts between the north and
the south-east, where little islets abound. The soil, of volcanic
origin, is composed of quartz, mixed with a bluish stone. In summer
it is covered with green mosses, grey lichens, various hardy plants,
especially wild saxifrage. Only one edible plant grows there, a kind
of cabbage, not found anywhere else, and very bitter of flavour.
Great flocks of royal and other penguins people these islets,
finding good lodging on their rocky and mossy surface. These stupid
birds, in their yellow and white feathers, with their heads thrown
back and their wings like the sleeves of a monastic habit, look, at
a distance, like monks in single file walking in procession along
the beach.
The islands afford refuge to numbers of sea-calves, seals, and
sea-elephants. The taking of those amphibious animals either on land
or from the sea is profitable, and may lead to a trade which will
bring a large number of vessels into these waters.
On the day already mentioned, I was accosted while strolling on the
port by mine host of mine inn.
"Unless I am much mistaken, time is beginning to seem very long to
you, Mr. Jeorling?"
The speaker was a big tall American who kept the only inn on the
port.
"If you will not be offended, Mr. Atkins, I will acknowledge that
I do find it long."
"Of course I won't be offended. Am I not as well used to answers
of that kind as the rocks of the Cape to the rollers?"
"And you resist them equally well."
"Of course. From the day of your arrival at Christmas Harbour,
when you came to the Green Cormorant, I said to myself that in a
fortnight, if not in a week, you would have enough of it, and would
be sorry you had landed in the Kerguelens."
"No, indeed, Mr. Atkins; I never regret anything I have done."
"That's a good habit, sir."
"Besides, I have gained knowledge by observing curious things
here. I have crossed the rolling plains, covered with hard stringy
mosses, and I shall take away curious mineralogical and geological
specimens with me. I have gone sealing, and taken sea-calves with
your people. I have visited the rookeries where the penguin and the
albatross live together in good fellowship, and that was well worth
my while. You have given me now and again a dish of petrel, seasoned
by your own hand, and very acceptable when one has a fine healthy
appetite. I have found a friendly welcome at the Green Cormorant,
and I am very much obliged to you. But, if I am right in my
reckoning, it is two months since the Chilian two-master _Peñas_ set
me down at Christmas Harbour in mid-winter.
"And you want to get back to your own country, which is mine, Mr.
Jeorling; to return to Connecticut, to Providence, our capital."
"Doubtless, Mr. Atkins, for I have been a globe-trotter for close
upon three years. One must come to a stop and take root at some
time."
"Yes, and when one has taken root, one puts out branches."
"Just so, Mr. Atkins. However, as I have no relations living, it
is likely that I shall be the last of my line. I am not likely to
take a fancy for marrying at forty."
"Well, well, that is a matter of taste. Fifteen years ago I
settled down comfortably at Christmas Harbour with my Betsy; she has
presented me with ten children, who in their turn will present me
with grandchildren."
"You will not return to the old country?"
"What should I do there, Mr. Jeorling, and what could I ever have
done there? There was nothing before me but poverty. Here, on the
contrary, in these Islands of Desolation, where I have no reason to
feel desolate, ease and competence have come to me and mine!"
"No doubt, and I congratulate you, Mr. Atkins, for you are a happy
man. Nevertheless it is not impossible that the fancy may take you
some day--"
Mr. Atkins answered by a vigorous and convincing shake of the head.
It was very pleasant to hear this worthy American talk. He was
completely acclimatized on his archipelago, and to the conditions of
life there. He lived with his family as the penguins lived in their
rookeries. His wife was a "valiant" woman of the Scriptural
type, his sons were strong, hardy fellows, who did not know what
sickness meant. His business was prosperous. The Green Cormorant had
the custom of all the ships, whalers and others, that put in at
Kerguelen. Atkins supplied them with everything they required, and
no second inn existed at Christmas Harbour. His sons were
carpenters, sailmakers, and fishers, and they hunted the amphibians
in all the creeks during the hot season. In short, this was a family
of honest folk who fulfilled their destiny without much difficulty.
"Once more, Mr. Atkins, let me assure you," I resumed, "I am
delighted to have come to Kerguelen. I shall always remember the
islands kindly. Nevertheless, I should not be sorry to find myself
at sea again."
"Come, Mr. Jeorling, you must have a little patience," said the
philosopher, "you must not forget that the fine days will soon be
here. In five or six weeks--"
"Yes, and in the meantime, the hills and the plains, the rocks and
the shores will be covered thick with snow, and the sun will not
have strength to dispel the mists on the horizon."
"Now, there you are again, Mr. Jeorling! Why, the wild grass is
already peeping through the white sheet! Just look!"
"Yes, with a magnifying glass! Between ourselves, Atkins, could
you venture to pretend that your bays are not still ice-locked in
this month of August, which is the February of our northern
hemisphere?"
"I acknowledge that, Mr. Jeorling. But again I say have patience!
The winter has been mild this year. The ships will soon show up, in
the east or in the west, for the fishing season is near."
"May Heaven hear you, Atkins, and guide the _Halbrane_ safely into
port."
"Captain Len Guy? Ah, he's a good sailor, although he's
English--there are good people everywhere--and he takes in his
supplies at the Green Cormorant."
"You think the _Halbrane_--"
"Will be signalled before a week, Mr. Jeorling, or, if not, it
will be because there is no longer a Captain Len Guy; and if there
is no longer a Captain Len Guy, it is because the _Halbrane_ has sunk
in full sail between the Kerguelens and the Cape of Good Hope."
Thereupon Mr. Atkins walked away, with a scornful gesture,
indicating that such an eventuality was out of all probability.
My intention was to take my passage on board the _Halbrane_ so soon as
she should come to her moorings in Christmas Harbour. After a rest
of six or seven days, she would set sail again for Tristan
d'Acunha, where she was to discharge her cargo of tin and copper.
I meant to stay in the island for a few weeks of the fine season,
and from thence set out for Connecticut. Nevertheless, I did not
fail to take into due account the share that belongs to chance in
human affairs, for it is wise, as Edgar Poe has said, always "to
reckon with the unforeseen, the unexpected, the inconceivable, which
have a very large share (in those affairs), and chance ought always
to be a matter of strict calculation."
Each day I walked about the port and its neighbourhood. The sun was
growing strong. The rocks were emerging by degrees from their winter
clothing of snow; moss of a wine-like colour was springing up on the
basalt cliffs, strips of seaweed fifty yards long were floating on
the sea, and on the plain the lyella, which is of Andean origin, was
pushing up its little points, and the only leguminous plant of the
region, that gigantic cabbage already mentioned, valuable for its
anti-scorbutic properties, was making its appearance.
I had not come across a single land mammal--sea mammals swarm in
these waters--not even of the batrachian or reptilian kinds. A few
insects only--butterflies or others--and even these did not fly,
for before they could use their wings, the atmospheric currents
carried the tiny bodies away to the surface of the rolling waves.
"And the _Halbrane_?" I used to say to Atkins each morning.
"The _Halbrane_, Mr. Jeorling," he would reply with complacent
assurance, "will surely come into port to-day, or, if not to-day,
to-morrow."
In my rambles on the shore, I frequently routed a crowd of
amphibians, sending them plunging into the newly-released waters.
The penguins, heavy and impassive creatures, did not disappear at my
approach; they took no notice; but the black petrels, the puffins,
black and white, the grebes and others, spread their wings at sight
of me.
One day I witnessed the departure of an albatross, saluted by the
very best croaks of the penguins, no doubt as a friend whom they
were to see no more. Those powerful birds can fly for two hundred
leagues without resting for a moment, and with such rapidity that
they sweep through vast spaces in a few hours. The departing
albatross sat motionless upon a high rock, at the end of the bay of
Christmas Harbour, looking at the waves as they dashed violently
against the beach.
Suddenly, the bird rose with a great sweep into the air, its claws
folded beneath it, its head stretched out like the prow of a ship,
uttering its shrill cry: a few moments later it was reduced to a
black speck in the vast height and disappeared behind the misty
curtain of the south.