Chapter 3 Chapter Three Captain Lan Guy

I didn't get a good night's sleep.Several times, I "dreamed that I was dreaming".And yet—and this was an observation of Edgar Avalon Boe—the moment when one wonders whether one is dreaming one is often about to wake up. So I awoke, still furious with this Captain Lan Guy.The idea of ​​leaving the Kerguelen Islands aboard the Halle Brena had long since taken root in my mind.Uncle Atkins kept bragging to me about the ship, which was always the first of the year to arrive at Christmas-Harburg.I pinched my fingers and counted day by day, hour by hour.How often have I seen myself in this brig, sailing over the archipelagic waters, heading straight west, towards the shores of America!My innkeeper never doubted that Captain Lan Guy's helpfulness was not inconsistent with his own interests.No merchant ship would refuse to accept a passenger without being forced to change the route, and at the same time get a handsome fare.Who would have thought that such a thing could happen? ...

I felt a faint anger rising in my chest, this man is so unhelpful!My anger was rising and my nerves were tense.Suddenly an obstacle appeared in the way of progress, and I couldn't help but fly into a rage. All night the anger persisted, irritable and restless, and it was difficult to sleep.It wasn't until dawn that I calmed down. Regarding Lan Guy's unpleasant behavior, I have decided to argue with him face to face.It is very likely that I will get nothing, but at least I will express my displeasure. Uncle Atkins has talked about it, and everyone knows the answer he got.Will the ardent Heligly, eager to offer my services, and professed influence over Captain Lan Guy, to do anything to fulfill his promise?No idea, I haven't met him.In any case, his situation will not be any better than that of the boss of "Blue Heron".

Around eight o'clock in the morning, I walked out the door.To use a favorite phrase of the French, it is "dog weather" - to use a more correct phrase, it is terrible weather.It was raining and snowing, and the wind was swirling down from the top of the high mountain in the west. The sky was low and the clouds were dark, and the air currents and sea water were churning like an avalanche.It was absolutely impossible for Captain Lan Guy to come ashore and get drenched in the storm in this weather. Sure enough, there was no one on the pier.Several fishing boats had left the harbor before the blizzard came, probably hiding in the depths of the cove, out of the reach of the waves and the wind.As for my going to the Halle Brena, I can't go at all without a boat being called to fetch me.The boatswain had not promised to be in charge of sending the boat.

"Besides," I thought to myself, "on the deck of the brig the captain is as much at home as he is at home. If he persists in refusing me without reason, I intend to argue, preferably on neutral ground." Go on. I can watch him from behind my window. If his boat comes to the dock, he won't try to avoid me this time." After returning to "Green Heron", I stood firm behind the glass window.The rain dripped on the glass, and I wiped my breath away.Gusts of wind poured down the chimney of the fireplace, blowing ashes everywhere in the hearth, and I didn't have time to take care of it.

I waited, nervous, restless, pent-up rage, growing annoyed. Two hours passed.The storm subsided faster than I could.Winds in the Kerguelen Islands are extremely erratic, as they often are. Near eleven o'clock, high clouds in the east prevailed, and the storm turned over the other side of the mountains and disappeared. I open the window. At this time, a small boat of the "Halle Brena" was about to untie the rope. A sailor went down into the boat and loaded a pair of oars; another person sat in the stern without holding the steering rope .The distance between the Skura boat and the pier was only about fifty dewaz, never more.The boat docked.The man jumped out of the boat.

It was Captain Lan Guy.In a few seconds I had crossed the threshold of the hotel, stopped, and stood in front of the captain.He was at a loss, trying to avoid the collision of the two ships. "Sir," I said to him, in a stiff and dry tone--as cold as it is on an easterly wind. Captain Lan Guy was watching me intently.I was shocked by the sadness in his dark eyes.Then he spoke.His voice was low, almost whispering: "Are you a foreigner?" He asked me. "Outlanders to the Keregren Islanders," I replied. "British nationality?" "No, America."

He saluted me with a neat gesture, and I returned the salute. "Sir," I went on, "I have reason to believe that Uncle Atkins of the Blue Heron has spoken to you a little bit about a request of mine which seems to me to be worthy of patronage. one..." "Aboard my brig?" replied Captain Lan Guy. "Exactly." "Sir, I regret that I have not been able to agree to this request." "Can you tell me why?..." "Because I'm not in the habit of piggybacking passengers on board, that's one." "What about the second, Captain? . . . "

"Because the Halbrena's voyage was never fixed in advance. She set out for one port, but went to another, according to what was in my interest. You see, sir, I am not at all For which owner. The brig is mostly mine, and I don't need to take orders from anyone to determine its voyage." "Then, sir, it's up to you alone whether you agree to let me take the boat..." "That's right. But the only answer I can give you is refusal. I'm very sorry." "Captain, if you knew that it didn't matter to me where your brig was headed, you might change your mind. Unless it's supposed to go somewhere..."

"Somewhere, indeed." At this moment, it seemed to me that Captain Lan Guy's eyes swept slowly towards the southern sky. "Well, sir," I went on, "it doesn't matter to me here or there. My best wish is to get out of the Kerguelens as soon as I can..." Captain Lan Guy made no answer, but remained in deep thought.He didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. "Sir, would you please listen to me?" I asked in a rather eager tone. "Okay, sir." "I would like to add a word. If I remember correctly, if your brig's sailing route has not changed. Your plan is to go from Christmas-Harburg to Tristan da Cunha..."

"It could be Tristan da Cunha, it could be Cape Town, it could be the Falklands... it could be somewhere else..." "Well, Captain, that's where I want to go!" I remarked, not without sarcasm, trying to suppress my irritation. At this moment, a strange change took place in Captain Lan Guy's attitude.His voice changed, became harsher, hoarse.He used clear and clear words to make me understand that no matter how hard I persisted, it was futile; we had talked for too long, and he was pressed for time, and he had to go to the harbor office... In short, we have said enough to each other up...

I stretched out my arms to stop him—hold him, perhaps more accurately—and this conversation, which had begun badly, was likely to end even worse.The eccentric turned to me, his voice softened, and he stated: "Believe me, sir, I can't do what you want. I'm sorry for being so rude to an American. But I can't change my behavior. During the voyage of the Halle Brena, Unforeseen incidents of one kind or another may occur, and the presence of a passenger may be inconvenient... even for such an easy-going man as you. Captain Lan Gay's strange change of attitude. . . opportunity……" "I have told you, Captain. I repeat, it is my intention to return to Connecticut, USA. To arrive within three months or within six months, to take this route or the other, does not matter to me. It doesn't matter. Even if your brig headed for the Antarctic sea..." "Antarctic Ocean!" Captain Lan Gaye shouted in a questioning tone, and at the same time his eyes searched my heart, as if I had a knife hidden in my belly. "Why did you mention the Antarctic Ocean to me?..." He cut off the conversation and grabbed my hand. "I'm just talking casually, just like I say the Arctic Ocean, the North Pole, or the South Pole..." Captain Lan Guy made no answer.I seemed to see a teardrop rolling in his eye.It seemed that my answer had brought back some painful memory in him.He tried his best to get rid of this memory and turn to other thoughts. "This South Pole," he said, "who dares to venture? . . . " "It's hard to get there...and it's not very useful," I said sharply, "but there are adventurous people who devote themselves to such ventures." "Yes,...adventure-loving!..." Captain Lan Guy muttered. "That's right," I said again, "it just so happens that the United States is about to make a new attempt. It's Charles Wilkes' expedition, with the 'Vankoff', 'Peacock', and 'Dolphin',' The Flying Fish and several companion ships..." "America, Mr. Geolin? . . . The Government of the United States is sending an expedition to the Antarctic Ocean, are you sure? . . . " "It is absolutely true. Before I left America last year, I heard that this expedition had just set out to sea. It has been a year now, and perhaps the intrepid Wilkes has advanced his expedition to the level of his predecessors. places never reached." Captain Lan Guy fell silent again.Then, recovering from this inexplicable concern, he said: "At any rate, even if Wilkes had succeeded in crossing the polar circle and the great polar ice pack, it is doubtful whether he would have been able to go beyond higher latitudes than..." "Compared to his predecessors Bellingshausen, Foster, Kendall, Biscoe, Morrell, Kemp, Balleny..." I replied. "And..." Captain Lan Guy added. "With whom? Who are you referring to?" I asked. "Are you from Connecticut, sir?" said Captain Lan Guy suddenly. "It's Connecticut." "Where exactly?..." "Hartford." "Do you know about catching Target Island? . . . " "I've visited several times." "I think you know," said Captain Lan Guy, looking intently at me, "that your novelist Edgar Allan Poe made his hero Arthur Gordon Pym , born just on Nantucket..." "Indeed," I replied, "I remember that the novel begins on Nantucket." "You said... 'the novel'?... Did you really use that word?..." "No problem, Captain..." "Yes, you and others say that! . . . Oh, I'm sorry, sir, I can't wait any longer . . . I'm sorry . Think about it, and your mind will change. Besides, you just have to wait a few days... The warm season is about to begin... Merchant ships, whalers are coming to Christmas-Harburg one after another, you can take any one of them... definitely bound for you Where I want to go... I'm sorry, sir, I'm very sorry... Goodbye!" With the last sentence, Captain Lan Guy took his leave.The result of this conversation was completely different from what I had imagined. Although it was clear, it was very polite. There is no use in insisting on doing the impossible.I therefore gave up all hope of sailing on the Halle Brenane, feeling a grudge against the dreadful captain.Why deny it?This incident really piqued my curiosity.I felt that the sailor had a mystery in his soul, which would give me endless pleasure to unravel.Our conversation turned unexpectedly, and under such unexpected circumstances, the name of Arthur Pym was named; questions about Nantucket; The response evoked; affirmed that American navigators would not have advanced farther in the South than . . . etc.Who was Captain Lan Guy referring to? . . . All this is a matter of thought for a practical mind like myself. Uncle Atkins wondered that day if Captain Lan Guy had been a good talker, and if I had been allowed a cabin on the brig.I had to admit to the innkeeper that I didn't fare any better than him in the negotiations...which surprised him a lot.He couldn't understand why the captain refused, why he was so stubborn...he couldn't recognize this person...where did this change come from? ...Moreover, what is more directly related to him is that contrary to the previous berthing situations, neither the crew nor the captain of the "Halle Brena" visited the "Blue Heron" very often this time.It seemed that the entire crew obeyed an order.Only two or three times, the boatswain came to sit in the lobby of the hotel, and that was all.So Uncle Atkins was disappointed. About Heligley, I know, he wasn't careful enough, he went too far.Later, he no longer wanted to continue to associate with me.This intercourse is in every respect a fruitless business.Whether he ever tried to change his boss's mind, I can't say.In short, it is futile to affirm his persistence. For the next three days, August 10, 11, and 12, replenishment and repair work continued on the brig.Crews could be seen scurrying to and fro on deck—sailors inspecting masts, changing rigging, retightening stays and backstays that had loosened recently during the crossing; It was repainted; new sails were put in, old sails were repaired, and the old sails were still usable when the weather was good; every gap in the shell planks and decks was plugged up by hammering here and there with a mallet. The work was carried out in an orderly manner.The noise, yelling, and quarreling and cursing scenes that are common to sailors at anchor are gone here. The "Halle Brena" must have a good command, and the crew is submissive, well-behaved, and even reticent.The bosun was supposed to be a stark contrast to his companions, for he seemed fond of talking and laughing in my presence, and especially liked talking—unless his tongue was itching only when he was ashore. At last it was learned that the brig was due to sail on the fifteenth of August.The day before we sailed, there was nothing to make me think that Captain Lan Guy would be able to change his mind about his flat refusal. Besides, I didn't think about it.I have resigned myself to this accident.I don't want to judge others at all.Uncle Atkins wanted to speak for me again, but I didn't allow it.When Captain Lan Guy and I met on the pier, we were like people who had never met, never met, he went this way, I went that way.I should have noticed, though, that once or twice, there was a slight hesitation in his demeanor... as if he wanted to talk to me... a hidden instinct pushed him...but he didn't, and I wasn't that This kind of person wants to stir up the theory again... Besides, I learned that day that Fenimore Atkins, in spite of my prohibition, once again interceded for me with Captain Lan Guy, and still got nothing.The matter is "closed," as it is often said.But the boatswain didn't think so... Sure enough, when the owner of "Blue Heron" asked him, Heligley even denied that the game of chess had been completely lost. "Probably," he repeated several times, "the captain hasn't made a final statement yet!" However, believing the cowhide king's words is tantamount to substituting a wrong term in an equation.I am sure that I have been indifferent to the departure of the Skouna ships.I just want to watch another ship appear from the sea. "In a week or two," my innkeeper repeated to me, "Mr. Georin, you will be much happier than with Captain Lan Guy. By then, more than one ship , would be eager to let you take a ride..." "That's possible, Atkins. Don't forget, though, that most of the fishing boats that come to the Kerguellens stop here for five or six months. If I have to wait that long before I set foot on the On the way home..." "Not all of them, Mr. Georin, not all of them! . . . Some just go on the Christmas-Harburg side. . . The Hallebrena's chance..." I don't know if I will regret it.But one thing is certain, and that is this: destiny was to leave the Keregrens as the passenger of a brig that involved me in the most thrilling adventures.It must have been recorded in the nautical almanac at that time. On the evening of August 14th, around 7:30, night had enveloped the island.After dinner I took a stroll on the North Bay pier.The weather is dry and the night sky is full of stars.The air was bitter and chilly.In this case, it is naturally impossible for me to take a long walk. Half an hour later, when I returned to "Blue Heron", a person met me.He hesitated for a moment, then walked back and stopped in front of me. The night was so dark that it was impossible to recognize who this person was.As soon as I heard his voice, that characteristic whisper, it was absolutely true that it was Captain Lan Gaye standing in front of me. "Mr. Georin," he said to me, "the Halle Brena will set sail tomorrow...tomorrow morning...before the tide goes out..." "Why tell me this," I retorted, "since you refuse..." "Sir... I've thought about it over and over again. If you don't change your mind, please get on the boat at seven..." "Indeed, Captain," I replied, "I did not expect you to change your mind..." "I'll tell you again, I've given it a lot of thought. Let me add that the 'Halle Brena' will be sailing directly to the Tristan da Cunha Islands. I guess that's the right thing for you. ..." "It's as good as it gets, Captain. I'll be on board tomorrow morning at seven o'clock..." "The cabin is ready for you." "The boat fare..." I said. "We'll discuss it later," retorted Captain Lan Guy, "and it will satisfy you. See you tomorrow, then..." "See you tomorrow!" I held out my arm to this weirdo, hoping to seal our agreement.Maybe he didn't see my movements clearly in the dark, so he didn't respond accordingly and left quickly.He got into the boat, and after a few strokes of the oars, he was taken away. I am amazed.Back at the Blue Heron, in the lobby, I told Uncle Atkins about it, and he was just as surprised as I was. "Hey," he answered me, "that old fox, Heligley, is right! . . . And it's true, he's more willful than a spoiled girl, that ghost captain! . . . It's time to change your mind!" This assumption is absolutely untenable.After thinking about it again, I think this approach is neither whim nor willful.Captain Lan Guy withdrew his order because of the advantage I would be doing him in this ship.It seems to me that his change of attitude probably has something to do with what I said to him about Nantucket, Connecticut.Why he took such an interest in this question can only be answered by what happened next. My trip was ready quickly.I am a practical traveler and never carry heavy luggage.With a backpack and a suitcase in hand, you can travel around the world.My big items are a few furs.It's a must have for any traveler traversing high latitudes.At the very least, be careful to take these precautions as you roam the South Atlantic. The next day, August 15th.Before daybreak I bid farewell to the noble, upright and good Atkins.My compatriot lived in exile on this desolate island, but he and his family lived happily.He was so caring and warm to me that I can only compliment him.I thanked him, and the enthusiastic innkeeper was very moved.He always had my interests in mind, and hastened me aboard, fearing—to use his own words—that Captain Lan Gay had "changed the front corners" again from yesterday to now.He even repeatedly emphasized this point to me, confessing to me that he climbed to the window several times at night to peep to see if the "Halle Brena" had been moored in the Christmas-Harburg Sea.He didn't feel relieved until the early morning light.I'm not worried at all. Uncle Atkins is going to see me aboard to say good-bye to Captain Lan Guy and the bosun.A dinghy was waiting for us on the quay, and took us both to the gangway of the brig.Due to low tide, the boat has turned around. The first person I met on deck was Heligley.He gave me a triumphant look.It's like saying to me: "Well? What do you think! . . . Our difficult captain finally agrees . . . Who's thanks to that? It's not the good boatswain who's trying to help you? He can control the captain, and that's no bluff. ?..." Is this really the case? ... I have many reasons to disbelieve this without much reservation.It doesn't matter anyway, though.The important thing is that the "Halle Brena" is about to weigh anchor, and I'm already on board. Captain Lan Guy appeared on deck almost immediately.Also to my surprise and astonishment, he did not seem to notice my presence. The preparation of the tackle was started, the sails were drawn from their holsters, the rigging was ready, and the slings and lower kerbs were in order.The chief mate stood at the bow and watched the winch turn, and the anchor was soon erected. Uncle Atkins walked up to Captain Lan Guy at this moment, and said in a very moving voice: "See you next year!" "God bless, Uncle Atkins!" They clasped their hands.Then the boatswain also came over and held the hand of the boss of "Blue Heron" tightly.The boat took him back to the pier. At eight o'clock, when the low tide leveled off, the "Hallebrenner" let the low sails take the wind, sailed with the port wind, and under the north wind, turned and sailed out of Christmas-Harburg Harbour.Once at sea, head northwest. Two thousand feet and three thousand feet above the sea, the two peaks of Mount Tebull and Mount Havargal, which soar into the sky, rise above the sea respectively.As the last hours of the afternoon approached, the two snow-white peaks disappeared into the distance.