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

However, we could not allow them to become masters of the boat, to bring it down, to embark ten or twelve men, and to abandon us to our certain fate on this iceberg. They had almost reached the boat, heedless of danger and deaf to threats, when a second report was heard, and one of the sailors fell, by a bullet from the boatswain’s gun.

One American and one Fuegian less to be numbered amongst the sealing-master’s partisans!

Then, in front of the boat, a man appeared. It was Dirk Peters, who had climbed the opposite slope.

The half-breed put one of his enormous hands on the stern and with the other made a sign to the furious men to clear off. Dirk Peters being there, we no longer needed our arms, as he alone would suffice to protect the boat.

And indeed, as five or six of the sailors were advancing, he went up to them, caught hold of the nearest by the belt, lifted him up, and sent him flying ten paces off. The wretched man not being able to catch hold of anything, would have rebounded into the sea had not Hearne seized him.

Owing to the half-breed’s intervention the revolt was instantly quelled. Besides, we were coming up to the boat, and with us those of our men whose hesitation had not lasted long.

No matter. The others were still thirteen to our ten. Captain Len Guy made his appearance; anger shone in his eyes, and with him was West, quite unmoved. Words failed the captain for some moments, but his looks said what his tongue could not utter. At length, in a terrible voice, he said⁠—

“I ought to treat you as evildoers; however, I will only consider you as madmen! The boat belongs to everybody. It is now our only means of salvation, and you wanted to steal it⁠—to steal it like cowards! Listen attentively to what I say for the last time! This boat, belonging to the Halbrane, is now the Halbrane herself! I am the captain of it, and let him who disobeys me, beware!”

With these last words Captain Len Guy looked at Hearne, for whom this warning was expressly meant. The sealing-master had not appeared in the last scene, not openly at least, but nobody doubted that he had urged his comrades to make off with the boat, and that he had every intention of doing the same again.

“Now to the camp,” said the captain, “and you, Dirk Peters, remain here!”

The half-breed’s only reply was to nod his big head and betake himself to his post.

The crew returned to the camp without the least hesitation. Some lay down in their sleeping-places, others wandered about. Hearne neither tried to join them nor to go near Martin Holt.

Now that the sailors were reduced to idleness, there was nothing to do except to ponder on our critical situation, and invent some means of getting out of it.

The captain, the mate, and the boatswain formed a council, and I took part in their deliberations. Captain Len Guy began by saying⁠—

“We have protected our boat, and we shall continue to protect it.”

“Until death,” declared West.

“Who knows,” said I, “whether we shall not soon be forced to embark?”

“In that case,” replied the captain, “as all cannot fit into it, it will be necessary to make a selection. Lots shall determine which of us are to go, and I shall not ask to be treated differently from the others.”

“We have not come to that, luckily,” replied the boatswain. “The iceberg is solid, and there is no fear of its melting before winter.”

“No,” assented West, “that is not to be feared. What it behoves us to do is, while watching the boat, to keep an eye on the provisions.”

“We are lucky,” added Hurliguerly, “to have put our cargo in safety. Poor, dear Halbrane. She will remain in these seas, like the Jane, her elder sister!”

Yes, without doubt, and I thought so for many reasons, the one destroyed by the savages of Tsalal, the other by one of these catastrophes that no human power can prevent.

“You are right,” replied the captain, “and we must prevent our men from plundering. We are sure of enough provisions for one year, without counting what we may get by fishing.”

“And it is so much the more necessary, captain, to keep a close watch, because I have seen some hovering about the spirit casks.”

“I will see to that,” replied West.

“But,” I then asked, “had we not better prepare ourselves for the fact that we may be compelled to winter on this iceberg.”

“May Heaven avert such a terrible probability,” replied the captain.

“After all, if it were necessary, we could get through it, Mr. Jeorling,” said the boatswain. “We could hollow out sheltering-places in the ice, so as to be able to bear the extreme cold of the pole, and so long as we had sufficient to appease our hunger⁠—”

At this moment the horrid recollection of the Grampus came to my mind⁠—the scenes in which Dirk Peters killed Ned Holt, the brother of our sailing-master. Should we ever be in such extremity?

Would it not, before we proceed to set up winter quarters for seven or eight months, be better to leave the iceberg altogether, if such a thing were possible?

I called the attention of Captain Len Guy and West to this point.

This was a difficult question to answer, and a long silence preceded the reply.

At last the captain said⁠—

“Yes, that would be the best resolution to come to; and if our boat could hold us all, with the provisions necessary for a voyage that might last three or four weeks, I would not hesitate to put to sea now and return towards the north.”

But I made them observe that we should be obliged to direct our course contrary to wind and current; our schooner herself could hardly have succeeded in doing this. Whilst to continue towards the south⁠—

“Towards the south?” repeated the captain, who looked at