Chapter 27 Chapter Eleven In the Mist

"Well, Mr. Georin," said the bosun to me, when I met the next day, "give up!" "Give up? Heligley, why die?..." "The heart at the South Pole! We haven't even seen a tip!" "Yes... Now, the South Pole is about twenty nautical miles behind us..." "Is there any way! The wind blows the Antarctic lamp, and when we passed the South Pole, the polar lamp has been extinguished..." "I guess, such an opportunity will never come again..." "That's right, Mr. Georyn, we may never taste the taste of turning a skewer between our fingers!"

"Your analogy is very witty, boatswain." "In addition to what I just said, I would like to add that our ice truck will take us down the river to some damn place, but it may not be guaranteed to go in the direction of 'Green Heron'!...Forget it!...Forget it!... ...A futile expedition, an expedition that yielded nothing!...Do it again, I'm afraid it's too early!...At any rate, the expedition must be over, and there will be no wandering on the way, winter's red nose, frozen lips and Chilblained, pimpled hands, about to show! Captain Lan Guy never found his brother, nor the rest of our countrymen, nor did Dirk Peters find his poor Pym on this expedition! ..."

This is all true and it sums up our discouragement, frustration and disappointment perfectly! Not to mention the destruction of the Halle Brena, nine men had died on the expedition.There had been thirty-two men on board the brig, but now they had been reduced to twenty-three.What figure will it drop? ... From the South Pole to the polar circle, there are more than 20 degrees, which is equal to 1,200 nautical miles.This distance must be crossed within a month, or at most six weeks, or another ice pack will form and the passage will close again! ... As for wintering in this part of Antarctica, probably none of us would survive.

We have lost all hope of finding survivors of the Jenny.The entire crew has only one wish, and that is to make it through this eerie desolation as quickly as possible.Our drifter turned out to be drifting south as far as the South Pole.Now it has turned to drifting north.If we can keep going like this, maybe we will have good times and fortunes will come!In any case, to use a common saying, "it can only be left to fate". If our icebergs sail not toward the waters of the South Atlantic, but of the Pacific Ocean, and if the nearest land encountered is not the South Orkney Islands, the Sandwich Islands, the Falkland Islands, Cape Horn, Kelgo What does it matter if it is the London Isles, but Australia or New Zealand!So Heligly said - regrettably, of course - that he would not be drinking a homecoming drink in the low lobby of Uncle Atkins's Blue Heron!This makes sense.

"Anyway, Mr. Georin," he repeated to me, "Melbourne, Hobart, Dunedin, all have high-end hotels... as long as you arrive safely in Hong Kong!" The fog persisted for three days, February 2nd, 3rd, and 4th, so that it is difficult to estimate how far our icebergs have moved since we crossed the South Pole.Captain Lan Guy and Jem West thought it might still be estimated at two hundred and fifty nautical miles. Indeed, the current seemed to neither slow down nor change direction.It seemed beyond doubt that we had entered the gulf which divided the continent in two, with one land on the east and one on the west, forming the vast land of Antarctica.What a pity I should not be able to land on one side or the other of this wide strait!With the onset of winter, the surface of the strait will soon become frozen.

I spoke to Captain Lan Guy on this subject, and his reply was the only logical one: "What can we do, Mr. Georin? There is nothing we can do. There is nothing we can do. The ominous factor that has plagued us lately is, I think, this perpetual fog. . . . I don't know where we are now." I know...the sun's height cannot be measured, and it just so happens that the sun is about to disappear, and I won't see the sun for several months..." "I always think of a boat," I said for the last time. "Isn't it okay to use a boat? . . . " "Go for geographic discovery!... How dare you think about that?... This is a risky business, I won't do it!... And the crew probably won't let me do it either!"

I almost yelled: "Perhaps your brother William Guy, your compatriots are hiding somewhere on this continent..." But I hold back.Why bring up the old story again, and cause our captain's sorrow and pain?This possibility must have been considered by him.The reason why he abandoned the plan to continue the search was because he realized that it would be useless and useless to try one last time. Or maybe he had another method of reasoning that still gave him a glimmer of hope.It's worth noting.He may want to: The summer began when William Guy and his companions left Zalal Island.The free-flowing sea spread out before them, and through it the current flowed southeast.We were subjected to this current, first on the Halle Brena, and later on the iceberg.In addition to the currents, they may also have a constant nor'easter to help them, as we did when we started.From this it can be concluded that unless their boat sank in an accident at sea, it should have traveled in the same direction as ours, passing through this wide strait and arriving at this sea area.At this point, it may be assumed that they had been months ahead of us, sailed back north, crossed the free-flowing seas, crossed the great ice floes, and then their little boats came out of the polar circle at last.At last William Guy and his companions came across a large ship, and had sailed back to their home country.Is this assumption illogical? ...

I should admit that it required good luck, even an excess of luck.Even if our captain agreed with this assumption, he never revealed it to me.People like to keep their fantasies.Perhaps he fears that if he speaks out, others will point out the loopholes in his reasoning? ... I was talking to Jem West one day, and I deliberately steered the conversation in this direction.The first mate, who had difficulty accepting imaginative exercises, flatly refused to share my opinion.It is said that the reason why we did not find the people on the "Jenny" is because they left this sea area before we arrived, and they have now returned to the Pacific Ocean.For a practical person like him, this kind of statement cannot be accepted ideologically.

As for the boatswain, when I called his attention to the possibility, he snapped back: "You know, Mr. Georyn, anything can happen... people like to say that! But say William Guy and His men, at the moment, in a tavern in the Old World or the New World, are drinking schnapps, gin, or whiskey...Impossible!...Impossible!...It's almost as if we're tomorrow Sitting at the table of 'Qinglu' and eating, it's impossible!" For three days in the fog, I didn't even see a shadow of Dirk Peters.Or rather, he didn't want to get close to me at all, and kept his post, guarding the boat.Mardin Hott's question about his brother seemed to indicate that his secret was known—at least in part.So he lived more solitary than ever, sleeping when others were awake, and keeping watch while others were asleep.I even wondered if he had some regrets for speaking to me, and if he thought he had aroused my dislike for him... This is not the case, I have deep sympathy for this poor half-breed Feelings! ...

The sea breeze couldn't tear through the thick curtain of thick fog, and time passed hour by hour surrounded by thick fog.I cannot describe how sad, monotonous, and long we felt at such moments!No matter how careful you are, you can't tell where the sun is on the horizon at any given moment.The Sun's advancing spiral is fading lower on the horizon.The longitude and latitude position of the iceberg is naturally impossible to determine.The iceberg has been moving southeast, to be precise, since it crossed the South Pole, it should be moving northwest.It's possible, but not sure.The iceberg was moving at the same speed as the water, but the fog prevented Captain Lan Guy from getting any bearings, so how could he determine the distance traveled?Even if the iceberg is stationary, we don't feel any difference.Because the sea breeze had died down—or so we reckoned—not a breath of wind could be felt.The side light is placed in the open air, and the flame does not shake at all.Only the chirping of birds broke the silence of the space, and even this deafening noise was weakened a lot through the cotton-like thick fog.On the pinnacle where I kept watching, petrels and albatrosses soared across the summit.The onset of winter has herded these high-speed fliers to the edge of Antarctica.In which direction are they fleeing? ...

One day, in order to experience life, the boatswain risked breaking his neck and climbed to the top of the mountain.A sturdy bearded vulture, a giant petrel with a twelve-foot wingspan, bumped into his chest.The attack was so fierce that he immediately fell to the ground on his back. "Damn beast," he said to me when we came down to the barracks, "I've taken my life! . . . a 'bang'! . . . A flying horse!...I can grab whatever I have to grab...but my hands are about to grab empty!...The edges and corners of the ice, you don't know, slippery! Just like water from your fingers It's leaking through the cracks!... I yelled at Big Bird: 'Can't you look forward when you walk?'... You don't even apologize, you bloody beast!" The bosun really nearly rolled from ice to ice, all the way into the sea. That afternoon, there were bursts of donkey braying from below, which was harsh and unpleasant.As Heligly points out, it's not the donkey that makes the call, it's the penguin.These innumerable masters of the polar regions, who have hitherto been innumerable, probably thought it inappropriate to come and accompany us on our moving isle.When our vision can extend to the sea, no matter at the foot of the iceberg or on the drifting ice, we have never seen a penguin.This time, there were, no doubt, hundreds or thousands of penguins, as the intensified chorus showed that the singers were quite a few. The places where these birds prefer to live are either high latitude land and coastal areas of islands, or adjacent ice fields.Doesn't the appearance of penguins signal that land is approaching? ... I know that our present state of mind is to cling to any glimmer of hope, as a drowning man clings to a plank—the plank of life! ... how many times has it sunk or splintered just as unfortunate people have caught it! ... In this terrible atmosphere, isn't it the same fate that awaits us? ... I asked Captain Lan Guy what he concluded from the appearance of these birds. "I see what you see, Mr. Georin," he answered me. "Not a single penguin has settled on an iceberg since we drifted on the ice. Now, judging by the deafening cry, the penguin In droves. From where? . . . From a land, no doubt. We're probably pretty close to it..." "Is the first officer also of this opinion?" I asked. "Yes, Mr. Georin, you don't know whether he is a whimsical man!" "Of course he's not that kind of person!" "One more thing, he and I were shocked, but it didn't seem to attract your attention..." "What's up?……" "Mixed with the donkey-like braying of penguins, there is also a cow braying...you can hear it right away if you prick your ears up." I listen carefully.Apparently, the band is more complete than I thought. "Sure enough..." I said, "I recognized it. It was a whining roar. Then there were also seals or elephant seals..." "That is certain, Mr. Georin. From this I deduce that these birds and mammals have been rare since we set out from Zalar Island. The current has brought us here, and these animals are in the This sea area is frequently haunted. I think that there must be land, but it is not just talking about it..." "Of course, Captain. It's not a lie to think that land is near... Yes! It's bad luck that we can't see anything beyond a quarter of a mile in the impenetrable fog that surrounds us." !..." "The fog prevents us even from going down to the bottom of the iceberg!" Captain Lan Gaye added, "and if we can go down, we will certainly be able to tell whether there is rosea kelp, fucus in the water-and it will also provide us with new information. signs...you're right...it's bad luck! . . . " "Why not try it, Captain? . . . " "No, Mr. Georin, there is a danger of falling into the sea, and I won't allow anyone to leave the barracks. However, if land is near, I suspect our iceberg will be ashore soon..." "What if it doesn't dock?..." I asked back. "If it doesn't dock, can we dock ourselves?..." I thought to myself, use a boat!When it's time to use it, you should make up your mind to use it. ...but Captain Lan Guy preferred to wait and see.Perhaps, in our situation at the time, this may be the most sensible way! ... As for going down to the bottom of the iceberg, you have to walk on the landslide like a blind person. There is really nothing more dangerous than this.Even if Dirk Peters, the most agile and physically fit member of the crew, went there in person, he might not be able to succeed immediately without serious accidents.This costly expedition has already lost many lives, and we wish no more to add to the dead. The accumulation of water vapor becomes more intense at night, and I cannot describe it to give you an idea.From 5 o'clock in the afternoon, on the high ground where the tent was pitched, nothing could be discerned a few steps away.It takes two people's hands to touch each other to be sure that one is by the other's side.Relying on words alone is not enough, the whole environment becomes hard of hearing, and the transmission of sound is no better than visual effect.The lighted side lights looked dim, like dim candles that had lost their ability to illuminate.By the time a cry reaches you, it has faded considerably.Only penguins can yell and hear them. I'm here to point out that this dense fog should not be confused with rime or crystalline frost.We have seen rime or crystalline frost before.The rime requires a relatively high temperature. Generally speaking, it only stays on the sea surface, and it will rise to a height of about 100 feet only under the action of strong sea wind.The dense fog far exceeds this height.I estimate that the light will not be seen again until about fifty duwats above the iceberg. By around eight o'clock in the evening, the semi-condensed fog has become so dense that you feel a resistance when you move forward.It is as if the composition of the air has changed, from a gaseous state to a solid state.At this time, I couldn't help but think of the strange phenomenon of Zhalal Island, the strange flowing water, the water molecules obey a special cohesion... It is impossible to tell whether the fog has any effect on the compass.Meteorologists, I know, have long studied this subject, and have thought it safe to say that this action has no effect on the magnetic needle. I should also add that since we left the Antarctic behind, the indications of the compass have been unbelievable.Guess we're headed for the magnetic poles.The compass is close to the poles and has completely lost control.Therefore, it is impossible to determine the direction of the iceberg. Although the sun had not yet dipped below the horizon at that time, by nine o'clock in the evening the sea was immersed in considerable darkness. Captain Lan Guy wanted to know if all were back in the barracks, and in case any accident happened to them, a roll call was called. Everyone, yes when their name was called, then went back to their bunks in the tent.The lantern in the tent was shrouded in mist, giving off a faint light, or even no light at all. The half-breed's name was called, and the bosun repeated it several times in his sonorous voice.No one agreed.This is the only person not named. Heligley waited a few minutes. Dirk Peters didn't show up. Is he still with the boat?Very likely.But it was useless, the boat was not in danger of being snatched in this foggy weather. "Hasn't anyone seen Dirk Peters all day? . . . " asked Captain Lan Guy. "No one saw it," replied the bosun. "Didn't you see me at lunch? . . . " "No, Captain. But he probably has no rations left." "Then, he may have been unlucky? . . . " "Don't worry!" cried the bosun. "Here, Dirk Peters is at home. In the mist, he's no more out of place than a polar bear! He's taken his life the first time... ...This time he will also escape death!" I let the bosun's ramblings go.The reason why mixed-race children live alone is clear to me. Even if Dirk Peters insisted against it—he should have heard the bosun’s shout—it would have been impossible to track him down. That night, I believe, no one—except perhaps Endicott—was able to sleep.The tent lacked oxygen and felt stuffy.Moreover, everyone has more or less a special feeling, a strange premonition churning in their hearts.It seemed as if our situation was about to change, perhaps for the better, perhaps for the worse—if it could be worse than it is now. The night passed without incident.At six o'clock in the morning, everyone stepped out of the tent to breathe the relatively fresh air. The weather conditions were the same as the previous day, and the concentration of heavy fog was abnormal.The barometer could be seen rising again—too fast, really, for such a rise to be unreliable.The mercury column indicates 30.2 French inches (767 millimeters).This is not the highest number of mercury columns since the "Halle Brena" crossed the polar circle. Other signs emerged as well, which we must pay attention to. The wind picked up—it was southerly since we passed the Pole—and soon became a gale, which, in sailor's parlance, was called a "reef wind."The air flow swept through the space, and the sounds outside became more real. About nine o'clock, the iceberg suddenly took off its foggy nightcap. The speed with which the scenery changes is simply indescribable!In a shorter period of time, a magic wand could not create a more successful miracle!In an instant, to the farthest horizon, the sky was clear.The sea, illuminated by the slanting sun, reappeared before us.The sun was only a few degrees above the sea.The sea was rough, and the white foam was churning, washing the bottom of our iceberg.Under the dual action of wind and water current, our icebergs are drifting in the east-northeast direction at the high speed of floating mountains. "land!" From the summit of the moving isle comes this cry.We looked up and saw the figure of Dirk Peters on top of the ice, his hand outstretched to the north.The mixed race didn't get germanium.land!This time... for real! . . . This is land, three or four nautical miles away, showing distant, black peaks.Two measurements were taken at ten o'clock in the morning and at noon, and the results obtained were: Latitude: 86 degrees 12 minutes south latitude. Longitude: 114 degrees 17 minutes east longitude. The iceberg is located nearly 4 degrees past the South Pole.Our brig was going on the course of the "Jenny", which was west.Now we have come to the east longitude.