Chapter 4 CHAPTER IV FROM THE KELGRAND ISLAND TO PERD EDWARD ISLAND

I am afraid that no trip across the ocean has ever started so smoothly as this time!Originally, Captain Lan Guy's incomprehensible refusal made me wait a few more weeks at Christmas-Harburg.An unexpected turning point came suddenly.So a wonderful sea breeze carried me away from the Kerguelen Islands.The ship sailed with the wind, and there were gentle ripples on the sea surface. The speed of the ship was about seven or eight knots per hour. The interior of the Halbrena matches its exterior.The management is well-organized; whether it is the deck room or the crew rest cabin, everything is clean, just like a round-headed sailing ship.

On the port side of the forward part of the deckhouse is Captain Lan Guy's cabin.From the glass windows that can be lowered, the deck can be monitored, and the captain's order can be transmitted to the watchman if necessary.The watch position is between the mainmast and the foremast.On the starboard side is the first officer's cabin, which has the same structure as the captain's cabin.Each of the two rooms has a narrow bed, a small cupboard, an armchair stuffed with grass, and a table fixed on the floor; above the table is a lamp that can swing horizontally; Instruments, barometer, mercury thermometer, sextant.The chronometers are housed in sawdust oak boxes and are only removed by the captain when he is ready to measure the sun's height.

There are also two cabins at the rear of the deckhouse, and the middle part is the officer's dining room.The dining table is surrounded by wooden chairs with movable backs. One of the two cabins was ready to receive me.The light comes from two panes of glass, one towards the deckhouse flank longitudinal channel and the other towards the stern.The helmsman stands in front of the steering wheel at the stern.The mizzen-mast boom jutted from the height of the steering wheel, several feet above the top of the ship, and gave the brig an even brighter look. My cabin is eight feet long and five feet wide.I am used to the necessity of this voyage, and need no more space, nor more furniture: a table, a cupboard, a rattan chair, a wash-stand with iron legs, and a narrow bed will suffice up.Thin mattresses, sure to draw scathing criticism from a less casual passenger than myself.Anyway, I went ashore when the "Halle Brena" reached the Tristan da Cunha Islands, and it was just a relatively short voyage.I therefore occupied this cabin, and I estimated that my stay would not exceed four or five weeks.

Forward of the fore-mast, near the center of the ship--where the edge of the stay-sail was extended--was the galley, secured by strong lashings.Beyond that is the open hatch, lined with thick oilcloth.From here along the ship ladder, you can pass through the rest cabins and middle cabins of the crew.When the weather is bad, when huge waves hit the bilge, the hatch will be sealed and closed, so that the crew cabin will not be attacked by the waves. The names of the eight crew members on board were: Martin Holt, Sailmaster; Hardy, Caulkmaster; Rogers, Delap, Francis, Grethian, Bury, Sterne, Sailors.All between the ages of twenty-five and thirty-five, all Englishmen along the English Channel and St. George's Canal.Each is highly skilled and at the same time submissive under the control of an iron fist.

At the outset, I would like to draw your attention to this: the man of extraordinary perseverance who obediently obeys every word and gesture at the sight of the crew is not the captain of the "Halbrena", but the captain's second-in-command, first mate Jem West.He was about thirty-two then. I have traveled all over the world, and never have I met such a man of character.Jem West was born at sea and spent his childhood on a self-propelled barge.His father is the boss of the ship, and the whole family also lives on the ship.At every stage of his life he had breathed no air but the salty air of the English Channel, the Atlantic, or the Pacific.When the ship was at anchor, he went ashore only on official business of state or trade.When leaving this ship to work on another ship, he put his canvas bag on his back and never moved again.His whole soul was a sailor, and that profession was his whole life.When he is not sailing in reality, he is still sailing in imagination.He had been a junior sailor, a trainee sailor, a sailor.Later became a Navy corporal, sergeant.Then be the second officer.He is now the first mate of the Halbrena under the command of Captain Lan Guy.

Jem West didn't even have the ambition to climb higher.He does not want to be rich, he neither buys nor sells goods.He just loads and manages the tanks.This is the most important thing to keep your boat sailing smoothly.As for other trifles pertaining to sailing and nautical science, such as rigging, utilization of sail energy, maneuvering at different speeds, various instruments, mooring, combating nature, measuring latitude and longitude, etc., in a word In short, Jem West knew everything about the gigantic machine of the sailing ship better than anyone else. Now, let us take a look at the appearance of the first mate: medium build, relatively thin, healthy nerves, muscular, strong limbs; as agile as a gymnast; a seaman's eyes, which can gaze to extremely far places, with amazing accuracy; His face was black and red from the sun, his hair was thick and cut very short, there was no beard on his cheeks and chin, and his facial features were regular.The whole appearance shows vigor.Brave and fearless, with extraordinary physical strength, it has reached a level that cannot be added.

Jem West was reticent.But only when others ask him.When he gave his orders, his voice was loud and clear, never repeated, and he intended to be understood--and he did. I draw your attention to this typical officer on a merchant ship, who was devoted to Captain Lan Guy and devoted himself to the brig "Halbrena" as if he were one of the principal organs of the ship, as if this wooden, iron , canvas, copper, and hemp as a whole, got a strong vitality from him; as if the man-made ship and the man made by God were completely assimilated into one.If the Halle Brenale had a heart, it beat in Jem West's chest.

Let me mention the chef on board again, and the situation of the crew on board is complete.The chef's name was Endicott, he was about thirty years old, and he was a black man from the coast of Africa.He had been cook under Captain Lan Guy for eight years.The boatswain and he were on very good terms, and the two often had true companionship together.It should also be pointed out that Heligly considered himself a master of advanced cooking methods, and Endicott sometimes tried his own tricks, but never attracted the attention of the dining staff, who were too indifferent. The "Halle Brena" sailed smoothly.It was bitterly cold, on the forty-eighth latitude south, and winter still covered this part of the Pacific in August.However, the sea view is wonderful, and the sea breeze is fixed in the direction of east-south-east.If this weather persists - which is to be expected and expected - we won't have to change the front corners even once, and just lightly loosen the rear corners and we'll be able to drive all the way to Tristanda Cunha Islands.

Life on board was regular, simple, and—bearable at sea—monotonous, but there was something charming about it.Sailing, there is stillness in the movement, swaying in the dream, I don't complain about my loneliness.Perhaps there was only one point where my curiosity needed to be satisfied, and that was why, on earth, Captain Lan Gaye had first turned me down and then changed his mind? ... It would be futile to ask the chief mate about this question.Besides, did he know his boss' secret? ... This does not directly belong to his scope of work. As I have said before, he does not care about matters outside of his duties.Besides, what material can I get from Jem West's monosyllabic answer? ... During breakfast and supper I did not exchange more than ten sentences with him.However, I should admit that I have often found by accident that Captain Lan Guy's eyes are fixed on me, and he seems to want to ask me what I look like.As if he wanted to ask me something.On the other hand, I really want to ask him something.In fact, both sides remained silent.

If I was itching to talk to someone, of course I could talk to the boatswain, who was always ready to start a conversation!But what would he say to interest me?I might add that he never forgot to say good morning and good night to me, always in a very verbose manner.Then ask me, are you satisfied with life on board?Is the meal to my liking?Shall he go and ask nigger Endicott for some dishes that he cooks like?etc. "Thank you, Heligly," I answered him one day, "the average meal is enough for me. . . it's pretty good. . . . Good food here." "Ah, the devil Atkins! . . . He's a good man after all!"

"I think so." "Mr. Georin, an American, he agreed to take his whole family into exile in the Kerguelen Islands, how could he think of that?..." "Why not?..." "And he's satisfied! . . . " "That's not stupid at all, bosun!" "Well! If Atkins offers to trade me with him, then I won't do it! How comfortable I am!" "I congratulate you, Heligley!" "Hey! Mr. Georin, you know, aboard a ship like the Halle Brena, it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! . . . , our first officer uses his tongue even less than his..." "I've found out." I declared. "That's all right, Mr. Georin, they're two good-hearted sailors, I assure you! You'll love them when you disembark at Tristan! . . . " "I'm glad to hear that, Bosun." "Look, there's a little southeast wind blowing behind your ass, and the sea is calm. Only when the sperm whales and other whales shake from below, the water is choppy. If you sail like this, you'll be there in no time! Just watch, Jay Mr. Olin, in less than ten days, you can cover the 1,300 nautical miles from Kerguelen Islands to Prince Edward Island; The 2,300 nautical miles of the sub-islands!" "It's probably useless, bosun. The good weather will last. 'If you want to deceive people, just forecast the weather', this is the mantra of sailors, and it is good to know!" In any case, the good weather held.On the afternoon of August 18, the masthead watchman reported that the mountains of the Crozet Islands appeared in front of the starboard side. The azimuth was 42 degrees 59 minutes south latitude and 48 degrees east longitude. The height of the mountains was 600 to 700 du above sea level. Watts. The next day the ship passed Posession and the Shwayne Islands on the port side.The islands are only visited by boats during the fishing season.The only inhabitants at this time were birds, gregarious penguins and flocks of box-nosed birds; this bird flies so much like a dove that the whalers called it the "white dove."From the shifting fissures of the Crozier Mountains, the glaciers overflowed in thick layers, slow and uneven.I could still see the outline of the mountain for hours on end.Then, everything shrinks into a white line, outlined on the horizon.Above the white line are the snow-covered peaks of the mountains. Being close to land is always an interesting event when sailing.It occurred to me that maybe Captain Lan Guy would show up at such a time to break the silence on his passengers...and he didn't. If the boatswain's speculation can become a reality, within three days of the voyage, the peaks of Marion Island and Prince Edward Island will appear in the northwest.Probably not parked there. The "Halle Brena" is probably going to the freshwater replenishment point in the Tristan da Cunha Islands to replenish fresh water. I figured that this monotonous sea voyage would not be interrupted by any maritime event or other.On the morning of the twentieth, however, after the first measurement of the elapsed angle on Jem West's watch, Captain Lan Guy came on deck.This surprised me immensely.He walked aft along a longitudinal passage in the deckhouse, and stood before the binnacle, watching the compass, more from habit than from need. Was it only the captain who saw me as I was sitting near the bow? ... I can't tell.But it is safe to say that my presence did not attract his attention at all. For my part, I had made up my mind not to show him any more concern than he had for me.So I stayed still with my elbows on the railing. Captain Lan Guy took a few steps and leaned over the bulwarks to watch the long ripples trailing the stern.How it resembles a narrow straight white lace!The slender silhouette of the brig quickly shed the resistance of the water. In this place, there is only one person who can hear us, and that is Stern, the helmsman.The speed of the ship is subject to a full rear crosswind, which sometimes causes the ship to drift erratically. At this time, Stern held his hand on the handle of the steering wheel, keeping the "Halle Brena" on a normal course. Captain Lan Guy didn't seem to worry about that.He came to me and said to me in his whispering voice: "Sir...I want to talk to you..." "Go ahead, Captain." "I haven't talked to you until today... because I'm not a good talker by nature... I admit it... and... are you interested in my speaking?..." "If you doubt that, you are very mistaken," I retorted. "Your conversation can only be the most interesting." I guess he didn't detect any irony in this answer, at least he didn't show it. "Speak, Captain." Captain Lan Gay seemed to be hesitating again, showing a hesitation to speak. "Mr. Georin," he began, "have you ever tried to find out why I have changed my mind about your boarding?" "I have indeed considered the question, but I have not found an answer, Captain. It may be that you, as an Englishman ... deal with a foreigner ... do you intend to ..." "Mr. Jeolin, it is because you are an American that I finally made up my mind to let you board the 'Halle Brena'..." "Because I'm American?..." I replied, rather surprised by his candor. "Also... and because you're from Connecticut..." "Sorry, I still don't understand..." "I'll add one more thing and you'll understand: I figured that since you're from Connecticut, and since you've been to Nantucket, it's likely that you knew the Arthur Gordon Pym family . . . " "You mean the hero of the novel, whose adventures are described by our novelist Edgar Allan Poe..." "It was he, sir, who wrote this story from a manuscript in which Captain Dellan Gay came to me. A detailed account of a journey across the Antarctic sea, a thrilling and costly journey!" I thought I was dreaming to hear Captain Lan Guy speak like that! ……how? ... Did he think that Arthur Pym's manuscript actually existed? ... Aren't Edgar Allan Poe's novels pure fiction?It was nothing more than a figment of the imagination of the most gifted of American writers...and now this sane man takes fiction for reality... I didn't answer for a long time, wondering in my heart who I was dealing with. "Did you hear my question?..." Captain Lan Guy asked again. "I heard...of course I did, Captain, of course...don't know if I understand you completely..." "Mr. Georin, I will repeat the question in more plain terms, because I wish to have a definite answer." "It would be a great honor to satisfy you." "I was asking you, in Connecticut, if you personally knew the Pymms, who used to live on Nantucket and were married to one of the most prestigious attorneys in the state. Arthur Pym His father was a ship merchant, generally considered to be one of the great merchants of the island. It was his son who joined the expedition. The adventures of Edgar Allan Porton were dictated by him himself..." "Captain, this whole story is all based on the rich imagination of the great poet of our country, you can make it as thrilling as you like... This is purely fictional..." "Pure fiction?" Captain Lan Guy shrugged his shoulders four times as he uttered these four words, picking up the tone of each word. "Then," he continued, "Mr. Georyn, do you believe that--" "I don't believe it, and no one believes it, Captain Guy. This is the first time I've heard someone say that this is not just a novel, the first person is you..." "Listen to me, Mr. Georyn. This 'novel'--if you call it a novel, let it be--the fact that it came out last year does not prevent it from being true. From his account Even though it has been eleven years, things can still be true. People have been waiting for the answer to the mystery, and maybe the answer will never be revealed!..." Captain Lan Guy must be mad.He had a hysterical fit, a delirium, and went mad! ... Fortunately, if he lost his mind, Jem West would have no trouble commanding the brig in his stead!I can listen to him as much as I can.I have read Edgar Allan Poe's novels many times, and I know the content of the novels well.I'd like to hear what else he has to say. "Now, Mr. Georin," he said in a more determined tone, with a tremor in his voice that showed some kind of nerve irritation. "Maybe you don't know the Pyms, maybe you've never met them in Hartford or Nantucket..." "Nowhere else," I replied. "Well! But surely the family never existed, and Arthur Gordon Pym is a fictional character, and his travels are only made up, take care! . . . Yes! . . . Take care, as you take care not to deny the tenets of our holy religion!... Can a man - even Edgar Allan Poe of your country - really invent and create?  … ..." I saw Captain Lan Guy talking more and more fiercely, and I knew in my heart that I must respect his paranoia and let him go without rebuttal. "Now, sir," he said affirmatively, "please keep in mind the facts I am going to explain further. . . . The facts are convincing. There is no room for dispute about the facts. Then, draw any conclusions you please, Just draw conclusions. I hope you won't make me regret accepting you aboard the Halle Brena!" This is warning me, clearly warning me.I agree.Facts... what are the facts coming out of a half-demented mind? ... must be outlandish. "I was in New York when Edgar Allan Poe published this book in 1838," continued Captain Lan Guy. "I set off immediately for Baltimore. The writer lives in Baltimore, His grandfather served as Quartermaster during the War of Independence. You deny the existence of the Pyms, but I suppose you don't deny the existence of the Bosses, do you?" I said nothing, thinking it best not to interrupt his ramblings. "I have inquired," he went on, "certain details concerning Edgar Allan Poe. . . I have been given his address . . . I have called at his house . . . I poured cold water on him: he had already left the United States at that time, and I was unable to meet him..." At this time, I thought to myself: What a coincidence!Edgar Allan Poe studied all forms of madness with great skill.If he saw our captain, he might find in him the most perfect type! "Unfortunately," continued Captain Lan Guy, "I have not seen Edgar Allan Poe, and of course I cannot verify the situation of Arthur Gordon Pym, . . . the explorer of the South Pole The region's intrepid pioneer is dead. As the American poet proclaims at the end of his adventure, Arthur's death is well known, thanks to the reports of the newspapers." What Captain Lan Guy said was true.However, I agree with all the readers of the novel, and they all think that this announcement is nothing more than a novelist's technique.It seems to me that because the author is unable or afraid to give an ending to such a fantastic work, it is implied that these last three chapters were not directly disclosed to him by Arthur Pym, who had died tragically in a sudden accident. ended his life.He didn't say what the specific situation was. "Then," continued Captain Lan Guy, "Edgar Allan Poe is gone, and Arthur Pym is dead. In that case, there is but one thing for me to do: find Arthur Pym. Pym's traveling companion, Dirk Peters. Dirk Peters followed Arthur Pym all the way to the last barrier in the high latitudes. Both returned safely...how?...no one knows! … ...Did Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters return together? ...This is left unexplained in the original book. Again, there are several places in the book which are vague. However, Edgar Ellen Poe states that Dirk Peters may be able to provide some information on unpublished chapters, and he lives in Illinois. I set off at once for Illinois, . . . Arrive in Springfield ...I inquired about this man, he is of mixed Indian-Anglo race...lives in Vandalia town...I went." "He's not here again, is he?..." I couldn't help but replied with a smile. "Second basin of cold water: he's not here, or rather, he doesn't live there, Mr. Georin. This Mr. Dirk Peters has been out of Illinois, and even the United States for years, whereabouts are unknown .But, in Vandalia, I spoke to those who knew him. At last he lived in the homes of these people, and related his adventures to them--but the final end was never spelled out. Now, He is the only one who understands the mystery!" how? ...this Dirk Peters was real...even alive? ... The commander of the "Halle Brena" is so sure, I almost believe it! ……real!In a little while, I'm afraid I will be impulsive too! And so such absurd stories occupied Captain Lan Guy's mind, what a state of insanity he had become! . . . The character of Dirk Peters has disappeared, and I am quite convinced that he only existed in the mind of the novelist! However, I did not wish to irritate Captain Lan Guy, still less provoke him into a more ferocious fit of hysteria. So, I pretended to believe him completely.He added: "Mr. Georin, in the book, speaks of a bottle containing a sealed letter. The captain of the brig on which Arthur Pym was aboard, placed the bottle on a cliff in the Kerguelen Islands Underfoot. You don't know about this, do you?" Even when he said this, I pretended to believe him. "It does say that in the book..." I replied. "Very well. On a recent voyage I searched where the bottle might be... I found the bottle and the letter.... The letter said that the captain and his passenger Arthur Pym would do their best to make sure Reaching the edge of the Antarctic Ocean..." "You found the bottle? . . . " I asked rather eagerly. "yes." "And the letter in the bottle?" "yes." I watched Captain Lan Guy... he, like some paranoids, believed his own nonsense completely.I almost blurted out: Show us the letter...but then I changed my mind and thought: Couldn't he write one himself? ... So I replied: "Captain, what a pity you didn't meet Dirk Peters in Vandalia!... Otherwise he would have at least told you the circumstances under which he and Arthur came back after a narrow escape... Do you remember ...the penultimate chapter...they are both...their dinghy comes before the white fog...the dinghy is about to be sucked into the vortex of the waterfall when suddenly the face of a masked man appears... Afterwards, there was nothing left... only two lines of expungement marks remained..." "Indeed, sir, it was my misfortune not to meet Dirk Peters! . . . It would be interesting to know the outcome of their adventure! But, in my opinion, the fate of the others , if there is a definite news, I will find it more interesting..." "Others?" I called out involuntarily, "Who are you referring to? . . . " "Captain and crew of the British brig. After the sinking of the Orca, a British brig rescued Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters and carried them across the Antarctic Ocean to Zara Isle of..." "Mr. Lan Guy," I called his attention, as if I had no longer doubted that Edgar Allan Poe's novels were true, "didn't these people all die? Died when attacked, others died in man-made collapses by the Zalars..." "Perhaps," retorted Captain Lan Guy, his voice terrified with excitement, "perhaps some of these unfortunates, who did not perish either in the massacre or in the collapse, survived. What? Maybe one and a half or several of them can escape the clutches of the natives..." "Call it what you want," I retorted, "if anyone survived, it's unlikely they're still alive..." "why?……" "Because the things we're talking about happened eleven years ago! . . . " "Sir," replied Captain Lan Guy, "if Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters' traveling companions had not fallen under the raids of the natives, if they had been lucky enough to reach the The nearby islands, then, since Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters can go farther than Zallal Island, beyond the eighty-third parallel, since they can survive in the Antarctic zone, why? Their traveling companions, these poor people, my compatriots, can't survive?... How many people are still waiting to be rescued, why is it impossible?..." "Your pity is driving you out of your mind, Captain," I replied, trying to calm him down, "it's simply impossible..." "Impossible, sir! . . . If a thing happens, if incontrovertible evidence is brought to the attention of the civilized world, if physical evidence is found that these unfortunate beings abandoned at the ends of the earth do exist, by then , everyone is scrambling to be the first to yell to rescue them, will anyone dare to shout 'impossible'?" Then Captain Lan Guy began to sob and sob, his chest heaving violently.He turned to the south, as if trying to pierce the distant sky with his eyes.That made it unnecessary for me to answer: he couldn't hear me anyway. Anyway, I wondered, what happened in Captain Lan Guy's life to drive him so far out of his wits?Had his humanitarian feelings been developed to the point of insanity, which made him so concerned about these victims? …In fact, these people were never killed, for the simple reason that these people never existed… At this time, Captain Lan Guy returned to me, put his hand on my shoulder, and whispered in my ear: "No, Mr. Georin, the crew of the 'Jenny' has not yet come to a conclusion!..." Then he walked away. In Edgar Allan Poe's novel, the "Jenny", which is the name of the brig that rescued Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters from the wreck of the "Orca".At the end of this conversation, Captain Lan Guy uttered the name for the first time. "That's right," I thought at the moment, "that Guy is the same name as the captain of the 'Jenny'... and, like the 'Jenny', a British ship! . . . So what does that prove? What conclusions can be drawn from it?... The captain of the 'Jenny' only existed in Edgar Allan Poe's imagination; while the captain of the 'Halle Brener' is a living person... . . . people who are indeed alive... The two people have in common nothing but the sex of Guy. And this surname is a very common surname in England. However, I think it may be precisely because of the same surname that makes our poor The captain of the ship is confused!... Maybe he thinks he belongs to the same family as the captain of the 'Jenny'!... Yes! That's what brought him to this point, his infinite pity for the imagined victims!" Was Jem West aware of the situation?Did his superior ever tell him the "crazy things" the captain just said to me?It would be interesting to find out.However, this is a very delicate question, because it is related to the state of mind of Captain Lan Guy.Besides, talking with the chief mate doesn't necessarily mean everything goes smoothly.Talking about this issue, I'm afraid I have to take some risks... So I decided to bide my time.However, am I not about to disembark when I arrive at Tristan da Cunha?Aren't my voyages on the brig coming to an end in a few days? ... To be honest, I never expected to meet someone one day who took Edgar Allan Poe's fiction as real! On the third day, August 22nd, at dawn, the port side passed Marion Island.At the southernmost tip of the island rises a volcano that rises to a height of four thousand feet above sea level.At this time, the initial outline of Prince Edward Island was vaguely discernible, located at 46 degrees 53 minutes south latitude and 37 degrees 46 minutes east longitude.This island is on the starboard side of our ship.After another 12 hours of driving, in the evening mist, the last peak of Prince Edward Island gradually disappeared. The next day, the "Halle Brena" was heading northwest, toward the northernmost latitude line in the southern hemisphere to be reached on this voyage.