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

was clear to the extreme verge of the horizon, and the sea reappeared, illumined by the oblique rays of the sun, which now rose only a few degrees above it. A rolling swell of the waves bathed the base of our iceberg in white foam, as it drifted, together with a great multitude of floating mountains under the double action of wind and current, on a course inclining to the nor’-nor’-east.

“Land!”

This cry came from the summit of the moving mountain, and Dirk Peters was revealed to our sight, standing on the outermost block, his hand stretched towards the north.

The half-breed was not mistaken. The land this time⁠—yes!⁠—it was land! Its distant heights, of a blackish hue, rose within three or four miles of us.

86° 12′ south latitude.

114° 17′ east longitude.

The iceberg was nearly four degrees beyond the antarctic pole, and from the western longitudes that our schooner had followed tracing the course of the Jane, we had passed into the eastern longitudes.

XXII In Camp

A little after noon, the iceberg was within a mile of the land.

After their dinner, the crew climbed up to the topmost block, on which Dirk Peters was stationed. On our approach the half-breed descended the opposite slope and when I reached the top he was no longer to be seen.

The land on the north evidently formed a continent or island of considerable extent. On the west there was a sharply projecting cape, surmounted by a sloping height which resembled an enormous seal’s head on the side view; then beyond that was a wide stretch of sea. On the east the land was prolonged out of sight.

Each one of us took in the position. It depended on the current⁠—whether it would carry the iceberg into an eddy which might drive it on the coast, or continue to drift it towards the north. Which was the more admissible hypothesis?

Captain Len Guy, West, Hurliguerly, and I talked over the matter, while the crew discussed it among themselves. Finally, it was agreed that the current tended rather to carry the iceberg towards the northern point of land.

“After all,” said Captain Len Guy, “if it is habitable during the months of the summer season, it does not look like being inhabited, since we cannot descry a human being on the shore.”

“Let us bear in mind, captain,” said I, “that the iceberg is not calculated to attract attention as the Halbrane would have done.”

“Evidently, Mr. Jeorling; and the natives, if there were any, would have been collected on the beach to see the Halbrane already.”

“We must not conclude, captain, because we do not see any natives⁠—”

“Certainly not, Mr. Jeorling; but you will agree with me that the aspect of this land is very unlike that of Tsalal Island when the Jane reached it; there is nothing here but desolation and barrenness.”

“I acknowledge that⁠—barrenness and desolation, that is all. Nevertheless, I want to ask you whether it is your intention to go ashore, captain?”

“With the boat?”

“With the boat, should the current carry our iceberg away from the land.”

“We have not an hour to lose, Mr. Jeorling, and the delay of a few hours might condemn us to a cruel winter stay, if we arrived too late at the iceberg barrier.”

“And, considering the distance, we are not too soon,” observed West.

“I grant it,” I replied, still persisting. “But, to leave this land behind us without ever having set foot on it, without having made sure that it does not preserve the traces of an encampment, if your brother, captain⁠—his companions⁠—”

Captain Len Guy shook his head. How could the castaways have supported life in this desolate region for several months?

Besides, the British flag was hoisted on the summit of the iceberg, and William Guy would have recognized it and come down to the shore had he been living.

No one. No one.

At this moment, West, who had been observing certain points of approach, said⁠—

“Let us wait a little before we come to a decision. In less than an hour we shall be able to decide. Our speed is slackening, it seems to me, and it is possible that an eddy may bring us back obliquely to the coast.”

“That is my opinion too,” said the boatswain, “and if our floating machine is not stationary, it is nearly so. It seems to be turning round.”

West and Hurliguerly were not mistaken. For some reason or other the iceberg was getting out of the course which it had followed continuously. A giratory movement had succeeded to that of drifting, owing to the action of an eddy which set towards the coast.

Besides, several ice-mountains, in front of us, had just run aground on the edge of the shore. It was, then, useless to discuss whether we should take to the boat or not. According as we approached, the desolation of the land became more and more apparent, and the prospect of enduring six months’ wintering there would have appalled the stoutest hearts.

At five in the afternoon, the iceberg plunged into a deep rift in the coast ending in a long point on the right, and there stuck fast.

“On shore! On shore!” burst from every man, like a single exclamation, and the men were already hurrying down the slope of the iceberg, when West commanded:

“Wait for orders!”

Some hesitation was shown⁠—especially on the part of Hearne and several of his comrades. Then the instinct of discipline prevailed, and finally the whole crew ranged themselves around Captain Len Guy. It was not necessary to lower the boat, the iceberg being in contact with the point.

The captain, the boatswain, and myself, preceding the others, were the first to quit the camp; ours were the first human feet to tread this virgin and volcanic soil.

We walked for twenty minutes on rough land, strewn with rocks of igneous origin, solidified lava, dusty slag, and grey ashes, but without enough clay to grow even the hardiest plants.

With some risk and difficulty, Captain Len Guy, the boatswain, and I succeeded in climbing