An Antarctic Mystery, Jules Verne [ereader that reads to you TXT] 📗

accomplished. The captain was more reserved on the subject, but at the thought that he would have to renounce all hope of finding the survivors of the Jane, his heart was ready to break. When the Halbrane should again be ready for the sea, and when West should inquire what course he was to steer, would Captain Len Guy dare to reply, “To the south”? No! for he would not be followed either by the new hands, or by the greater portion of the older members of the crew. To continue our search in this direction, to go beyond the pole, without being certain of reaching the Indian Ocean instead of the Atlantic, would have been rashness of which no navigator would be guilty. If a continent bound the sea on this side, the schooner would run the danger of being crushed by the mass of ice before it could escape the southern winter.

Under such circumstances, to attempt to persuade Captain Len Guy to pursue the voyage would only be to court a certain refusal. It could not even be proposed, now that necessity obliged us to return northwards, and not to delay a single day in this portion of the Antarctic regions. At any rate, though I resolved not again to speak of the matter to the captain, I lost no opportunity of sounding the boatswain. Often when he had finished his work, Hurliguerly would come and join me; we would chat, and we would compare our recollections of travel.

One day as we were seated on the summit of the iceberg, gazing fixedly on the deceptive horizon, he exclaimed⁠—

“Who could ever have imagined, Mr. Jeorling, when the Halbrane left Kerguelen, that six and a half months afterwards she would be stuck on the side of an ice-mountain?”

“A fact much more to be regretted,” I replied, “because only for that accident we should have attained our object, and we should have begun our return journey.”

“I don’t mean to contradict,” replied the boatswain, “but you say we should have attained our object, Do you mean by that, that we should have found our countrymen?”

“Perhaps.”

“I can scarcely believe such would have been the case, Mr. Jeorling, although this was the principal and perhaps even the only object of our navigation in the polar seas.”

“The only one⁠—yes⁠—at the start,” I insinuated. “But since the half-breed’s revelations about Arthur Pym⁠—”

“Ah! You are always harking back on that subject, like brave Dirk Peters.”

“Always, Hurliguerly; and only that a deplorable and unforeseen accident made us run aground⁠—”

“I leave you to your delusions, Mr. Jeorling, since you believe you have run aground⁠—”

“Why? Is not this the case?”

“In any case it is a wonderful running aground,” replied the boatswain. “Instead of a good solid bottom, we have run aground in the air.”

“Then I am right, Hurliguerly, in saying it is an unfortunate adventure.”

“Unfortunate, truly, but in my opinion we should take warning by it.”

“What warning?”

“That it is not permitted to us to venture so far in these latitudes, and I believe that the Creator forbids His creatures to climb to the summit of the poles.”

“Notwithstanding that the summit of one pole is only sixty miles away from us now.”

“Granted, Mr. Jeorling, but these sixty miles are equal to thousands when we have no means of making them! And if the launch of the schooner is not successful, here are we condemned to winter quarters which the polar bears themselves would hardly relish!”

I replied only by a shake of my head, which Hurliguerly could not fail to understand.

“Do you know, Mr. Jeorling, of what I think oftenest?”

“What do you think of, boatswain?”

“Of the Kerguelens, whither we are certainly not travelling. Truly, in a bad season it was cold enough there! There is not much difference between this archipelago and the islands situated on the edge of the Antarctic Sea! But there one is not far from the Cape, and if we want to warm our shins, no iceberg bars the way. Whereas here it is the devil to weigh anchor, and one never knows if one shall find a clear course.”

“I repeat it, boatswain. If this last accident had not occurred, everything would have been over by this time, one way or another. We should still have had more than six weeks to get out of these southern seas. It is seldom that a ship is so roughly treated as ours has been, and I consider it real bad luck, after our having profited by such fortunate circumstances⁠—”

“These circumstances are all over, Mr. Jeorling,” exclaimed Hurliguerly, “and I fear indeed⁠—”

“What⁠—you also, boatswain⁠—you whom I believed to be so confident!”

“Confidence, Mr. Jeorling, wears out like the ends of one’s trousers, What would you have me do? When I compare my lot to old Atkins, installed in his cosy inn; when I think of the Green Cormorant, of the big parlours downstairs with the little tables round which friends sip whisky and gin, discussing the news of the day, while the stove makes more noise than the weathercock on the roof⁠—oh, then the comparison is not in our favour, and in my opinion Mr. Atkins enjoys life better than I do.”

“You shall see them all again, boatswain⁠—Atkins, the Green Cormorant, and Kerguelen! For God’s sake do not let yourself grow downhearted! And if you, a sensible and courageous man, despair already⁠—”

“Oh, if I were the only one it would not be half so bad as it is!”

“The whole crew does not despair, surely?”

“Yes⁠—and no,” replied Hurliguerly, “for I know some who are not at all satisfied!”

“Has Hearne begun his mischief again? Is he exciting his companion?”

“Not openly at least, Mr. Jeorling, and since I have kept him under my eye I have neither seen nor heard anything. Besides, he knows what awaits him if he budges. I believe I am not mistaken, the sly dog has changed his tactics. But what does not astonish me in him, astonishes me in Martin Holt.”

“What do you mean, boatswain?”

“That they seem to be on good terms with each other. See