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“The only one yes at the start,” I insinuated. “But since the half-breed’s revelations about Arthur Pym ” “Ah! You are always harking back on that subject, like brave Dirk Peters.” “Always, Hurliguerly; and only that a deplorable and unforeseen accident made us run aground ” “I leave you to your delusions, Mr. Jeorling, since you believe you have run aground ” “Why? Is not this the case?”
This offered a favourable opportunity for beginning the struggle, although the mutineers had made peace among themselves. The latter numbered nine men, while the half-breed’s party consisted only of himself, Augustus Barnard and Arthur Pym. The ship’s master possessed only two pistols and a hanger. It was therefore necessary to act with prudence.
“Do the tides rise sometimes to that height?” I inquired of the captain. “Never,” he replied, “and perhaps we shall discover some remains of the vegetable kingdom, of habitations, or of an encampment.” “The best thing we can do,” said the boatswain, “is to follow Dirk Peters, who has already distanced us. The half-breed’s lynx eyes will see what we can’t.”
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.
Owing to the half-breed’s intervention the revolt was instantly queued. Besides, we were coming up to the boat, and with us those of our men whose hesitation bad 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.
These animals contain a store of fresh water and their flesh is sweet, even raw. Oh, raw flesh, sir!” He lowered his voice, and threw a furtive glance around him. It would be impossible to describe the frightful expression of the half-breed’s face as he thus recalled the terrible scenes of the Grampus.
The half-breed’s voice was so changed that I could hardly hear him. “It seemed to me,” he resumed, “that in Martin Holt’s mind no, I was not mistaken there was something like a suspicion.” “But tell me what he said! Tell me exactly what he asked you. What is it?” I felt sure that the question put by Martin Holt, whatsoever its bearing, had been inspired by Hearne.
As for me, I was possessed by the desire to rescue Arthur Pym as well as the survivors of the Jane. And yet, how could he have survived! But then, the half-breed’s fixed idea! Supposing our captain were to give the order to go back, what would Dirk Peters do? Throw himself into the sea rather than return northwards?
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