BOUND FOR THE FALKLANDS.
On the 8th of September, in the evening, I had taken leave of His
Excellency the Governor-General of the Archipelago of Tristan
d'Acunha--for such is the official title bestowed upon himself by
that excellent fellow, Glass, ex-corporal of artillery in the
British Army. On the following day, before dawn, the _Halbrane_ sailed.
After we had rounded Herald Point, the few houses of Ansiedlung
disappeared behind the extremity of Falmouth Bay. A fine breeze from
the east carried us along gaily.
During the morning we left behind us in succession Elephant Bay,
Hardy Rock, West Point, Cotton Bay, and Daly's Promontory; but it
took the entire day to lose sight of the volcano of Tristan
d'Acunha, which is eight thousand feet high; its snow-clad bulk
was at last veiled by the shades of evening.
During that week our voyage proceeded under the most favourable
conditions; if these were maintained, the end of the month of
September ought to bring us within sight of the first peaks of the
Falkland Group; and so, very sensibly towards the south; the
schooner having descended from the thirty-eighth parallel to the
fifty-fifth degree of latitude.
The most daring, or, perhaps I ought to say, the most lucky of those
discoverers who had preceded the _Halbrane_, under the command of
Captain Len Guy, in the Antarctic seas, had not gone beyond--Kemp,
the sixty-sixth parallel; Ballerry, the sixty-seventh; Biscoe, the
sixty-eighth; Bellinghausen and Morrell, the seventieth; Cook, the
seventy-first; Weddell, the seventy-fourth. And it was beyond the
eighty-third, nearly five hundred and fifty miles farther, that we
must go to the succour of the survivors of the _Jane_!
I confess that for a practical man of unimaginative temperament, I
felt strangely excited; a nervous restlessness had taken possession
of me. I was haunted by the figures of Arthur Pym and his
companions, lost in Antarctic ice-deserts. I began to feel a desire
to take part in the proposed undertaking of Captain Len Guy. I
thought about it incessantly. As a fact there was nothing to recall
me to America. It is true that whether I should get the consent of
the commander of the _Halbrane_ remained to be seen; but, after all,
why should he refuse to keep me as a passenger? Would it not be a
very "human" satisfaction to him to give me material proof that
he was in the right, by taking me to the very scene of a catastrophe
that I had regarded as fictitious, showing me the remains of the
_Jane_ at Tsalal, and landing me on that selfsame island which I had
declared to be a myth?
Nevertheless, I resolved to wait, before I came to any definite
determination, until an opportunity of speaking to the captain
should arise.
[Illustration: Cook's route was effectually barred by ice floes.]
After an interval of unfavourable weather, during which the _Halbrane_
made but slow progress, on the 4th of October, in the morning, the
aspect of the sky and the sea underwent a marked change. The wind
became calm, the waves abated, and the next day the breeze veered to
the north-west. This was very favourable to us, and in ten days,
with a continuance of such fortunate conditions, we might hope to
reach the Falklands.
It was on the 11th that the opportunity of an explanation with
Captain Len Guy was presented to me, and by himself, for he came out
of his cabin, advanced to the side of the ship where I was seated,
and took his place at my side.
Evidently he wished to talk to me, and of what, if not the subject
which entirely absorbed him? He began by saying:
"I have not yet had the pleasure of a chat with you, Mr. Jeorling,
since our departure from Tristan d'Acunha!"
"To my regret, captain," I replied, but with reserve, for I
wanted him to make the running.
"I beg you to excuse me," he resumed, "I have so many things
to occupy me and make me anxious. A plan of campaign to organize, in
which nothing must be unforeseen or unprovided for. I beg you not to
be displeased with me--"
"I am not, I assure you."
"That is all right, Mr. Jeorling; and now that I know you, that I
am able to appreciate you, I congratulate myself upon having you for
a passenger until our arrival at the Falklands."
"I am very grateful, captain, for what you have done for me, and I
feel encouraged to--"
The moment seemed propitious to my making my proposal, when Captain
Len Guy interrupted me.
"Well, Mr. Jeorling," he asked, "are you now convinced of the
reality of the voyage of the _Jane_, or do you still regard Edgar
Poe's book as a work of pure imagination?"
"I do not so regard it, captain."
"You no longer doubt that Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters have really
existed, or that my brother William Guy and five of his companions
are living?"
"I should be the most incredulous of men, captain, to doubt either
fact, and my earnest desire is that the favour of Heaven may attend
you and secure the safety of the shipwrecked mariners of the _Jane_."
"I will do all in my power, Mr. Jeorling, and by the blessing of
God I shall succeed."
"I hope so, captain. Indeed, I am certain it will be so, and if
you consent--"
"Is it not the case that you talked of this matter with one Glass,
an English ex-corporal, who sets up to be Governor of Tristan
d'Acunha?" inquired the captain, without allowing me to finish
my sentence.
"That is so," I replied, "and what I learned from Glass has
contributed not a little to change my doubts into certainty."
"Ah! he has satisfied you?"
"Yes. He perfectly remembers to have seen the _Jane_, eleven years
ago, when she had put in at Tristan d'Acunha."
"The _Jane_--and my brother?"
"He told me that he had personal dealings with Captain William
Guy."
"And he traded with the _Jane_?"
"Yes, as he has just been trading with the _Halbrane_."
"She was moored in this bay?"
"In the same place as your schooner."
"And--Arthur Pym--Dirk Peters?"
"He was with them frequently."
"Did he ask what had become of them?"
"Oh yes, and I informed him of the death of Arthur Pym, whom he
regarded as a foolhardy adventurer, capable of any daring folly."
"Say a madman, and a dangerous madman, Mr. Jeorling. Was it not he
who led my unfortunate brother into that fatal enterprise?"
"There is, indeed, reason to believe so from his narrative."
"And never to forget it!" added the captain in a tone of agitation.
"This man, Glass," I resumed, "also knew Patterson, the mate
of the _Jane_."
"He was a fine, brave, faithful fellow, Mr. Jeorling, and devoted,
body and soul, to my brother."
"As West is to you, captain."
"Does Glass know where the shipwrecked men from the _Jane_ are
now?"
"I told him, captain, and also all that you have resolved to do to
save them."
I did not think proper to add that Glass had been much surprised at
Captain Guy's abstaining from visiting him, as, in his absurd
vanity, he held the commander of the _Halbrane_ bound to do, nor that
he did not consider the Governor of Tristan d'Acunha bound to take
the initiative.
"I wish to ask you, Mr. Jeorling, whether you think everything in
Arthur Pym's journal, which has been published by Edgar Poe, is
exactly true?"
"I think there is some need for doubt," I answered "the
singular character of the hero of those adventures being taken into
consideration--at least concerning the phenomena of the island of
Tsalal. And we know that Arthur Pym was mistaken in asserting that
Captain William Guy and several of his companions perished in the
landslip of the hill at Klock-Klock."
"Ah! but he does not assert this, Mr. Jeorling! He says only that,
when he and Dirk Peters had reached the opening through which they
could discern the surrounding country, the seat of the artificial
earthquake was revealed to them. Now, as the whole face of the hill
was rushing into the ravine, the fate of my brother and twenty-nine
of his men could not be doubtful to his mind. He was, most
naturally, led to believe that Dirk Peters and himself were the only
white men remaining alive on the island. He said nothing but
this--nothing more. These were only suppositions--very reasonable,
are they not?"
"I admit that, fully, captain."
"But now, thanks to Patterson's note-book, we are certain that
my brother and five of his companions escaped from the landslip
contrived by the natives."
"That is quite clear, captain. But, as to what became of the
survivors of the _Jane_, whether they were taken by the natives of
Tsalal and kept in captivity, or remained free, Patterson's
note-book says nothing, nor does it relate under what circumstances
he himself was carried far away from them."
"All that we shall learn, Mr. Jeorling. Yes, we shall know all.
The main point is that we are quite sure my brother and five of his
sailors were living less than four months ago on some part of Tsalal
Island. There is now no question of a romance signed ‘Edgar
Poe,' but of a veracious narrative signed ‘Patterson.'"
"Captain," said I, "will you let me be one of your company
until the end of the campaign of the _Halbrane_ in the Antarctic
seas?"
Captain Len Guy looked at me with a glance as penetrating as a keen
blade. Otherwise he did not appear surprised by the proposal I had
made; perhaps he had been expecting it--and he uttered only the
single word:
"Willingly."