CHAPTER III
A WORLD OF FIRE AND DESOLATION
At the sight of that deep-red glow various feelings arose within us:in me there was new dejection; in Agnew there was stronger hope. Icould not think but that it was our ship that was on fire, and wasburning before our eyes. Agnew thought that it was some burningforest, and that it showed our approach to some habitable andinhabited land. For hour after hour we watched, and all the time thecurrent drew us nearer, and the glow grew brighter and more intense.At last we were too weak to watch any longer, and we fell asleep.
On waking our first thoughts were about the fire, and we lookedeagerly around. It was day, but the sky was as gloomy as ever, and thefire was there before our eyes, bright and terrible. We could now seeit plainly, and discern the cause also. The fire came from two points,at some distance apart--two peaks rising above the horizon, from whichthere burst forth flames and smoke with incessant explosions. All wasnow manifest. It was no burning ship, no blazing forest, no landinhabited by man: those blazing peaks were two volcanoes in a state ofactive eruption, and at that sight I knew the worst.
"I know where we are now," I said, despairingly.
"Where?" asked Agnew.
"That," said I, "is the antarctic continent."
"The antarctic fiddlestick," said he, contemptuously. "It is far morelikely to be some volcanic island in the South Sea. There's atremendous volcano in the Sandwich Islands, and these are somethinglike it."
"I believe," said I, "that these are the very volcanoes that Sir JamesRoss discovered last year."
"Do you happen to know where he found them?" Agnew asked.
"I do not," I answered.
"Well, I do," said he, "and they're thousands of miles away from this.They are south latitude 77 degrees, east longitude 167 degrees; whilewe, as I guess, are about south latitude 40 degrees, east longitude60 degrees."
"At any rate," said I, "we're drifting straight toward them."
"So I see," said Agnew, dryly. "At any rate, the current will take ussomewhere. We shall find ourselves carried past these volcanicislands, or through them, and then west to the Cape of Good Hope.Besides, even here we may find land with animals and vegetation; whoknows?"
"What! amid all this ice?" I cried. "Are you mad?"
"Mad?" said he; "I should certainly go mad if I hadn't hope."
"Hope!" I repeated; "I have long since given up hope."
"Oh, well," said he, "enjoy your despair, and don't try to deprive meof my consolation. My hope sustains me, and helps me to cheer you up.It would never do, old fellow, for both of us to knock under."
I said nothing more, nor did Agnew. We drifted on, and all ourthoughts were taken up with the two volcanoes, toward which we wereevery moment drawing nearer. As we approached they grew larger andlarger, towering up to a tremendous height. I had seen Vesuvius andStromboli and AEtna and Cotopaxi; but these appeared far larger thanany of them, not excepting the last. They rose, like the Peak ofTeneriffe, abruptly from the sea, with no intervening hills to dwarfor diminish their proportions. They were ten or twelve miles apart,and the channel of water in which we were drifting flowed betweenthem.
Here the ice and snow ended. We thus came at last to land; but it wasa land that seemed more terrible than even the bleak expanse of iceand snow that lay behind, for nothing could be seen except a vast anddrear accumulation of lava-blocks of every imaginable shape, withouta trace of vegetation--uninhabited, uninhabitable, and unpassable toman. But just where the ice ended and the rocks began there was along, low reef, which projected for more than a quarter of a mile intothe water, affording the only possible landing-place within sight.Here we decided to land, so as to rest and consider what was best tobe done.
Here we landed, and walked up to where rugged lava-blocks preventedany further progress. But at this spot our attention was suddenlyarrested by a sight of horror. It was a human figure lying prostrate,face downward.
At this sight there came over us a terrible sensation. Even Agnew'sbuoyant soul shrank back, and we stared at each other with quiveringlips. It was some time before we could recover ourselves; then we wentto the figure, and stooped down to examine it.
The clothes were those of a European and a sailor; the frame wasemaciated and dried up, till it looked like a skeleton; the face wasblackened and all withered, and the bony hands were clinched tight. Itwas evidently some sailor who had suffered shipwreck in thesefrightful solitudes, and had drifted here to starve to death in thisappalling wilderness. It was a sight which seemed ominous of our ownfate, and Agnew's boasted hope, which had so long upheld him, now sankdown into a despair as deep as my own. What room was there now forhope, or how could we expect any other fate than this?
At length I began to search the pockets of the deceased.
"What are you doing?" asked Agnew, in a hoarse voice.
"I'm trying to find out who he is," I said. "Perhaps there may bepapers."
As I said this I felt something in the breast-pocket of his jacket,and drew it forth. It was a leather pocket-book, mouldy and rottenlike the clothing. On opening it, it fell to pieces. There was nothingin it but a piece of paper, also mouldy and rotten. This I unfoldedwith great care, and saw writing there, which, though faded, was stilllegible. It was a letter, and there were still signs of long andfrequent perusals, and marks, too, which looked as though made bytears--tears, perhaps of the writer, perhaps of the reader: who cantell? I have preserved this letter ever since, and I now fasten ithere upon this sheet of my manuscript.
THE LETTER.
"Bristol April 20. 1820.
"my darling tom
"i writ you these few lines in hast i don like youar gon a walen an inthe south sea dont go darlin tom or mebbe ill never se you agin forave bad drems of you darlin tom an im afraid so don go my darlin tombut come back an take anoth ship for America baby i as wel as ever butmises is pa an as got a new tooth an i think yo otnt go a walen odarlin tom * * * sea as the wages was i in New York an better go tharan id like to go ther for good for they gives good wages in America. Ocome back my Darlin tom and take me to America an the baby an weel alllive an love an di together
"Your loving wife Polley Reed."
I began to read this, but there came a lump in my throat, and I had tostop. Agnew leaned on my shoulder, and we both read it in silence. Herubbed the back of his hand over his eyes and drew a long breath. Thenhe walked away for a little distance, and I put the letter carefullyaway in my own pocket-book. After a little while Agnew came back.
"More," said he, "do you remember any of the burial-service?"
I understood his meaning at once.
"Yes," I said, "some of it--a good deal of it, I think."
"That's good," said he. "Let's put the poor fellow under ground."
"It would be hard to do that," I said; "we'll have to bury him in thesnow."
At this Agnew went off for a little distance and clambered over therocks. He was not gone long. When he returned he said, "I've foundsome crumbled pumice-stone; we can scoop a grave for him there."
We then raised the body and carried it to the place which Agnew hadfound. So emaciated was the poor dead sailor that his remains were noheavier than a small boy. On reaching the spot, we found the crumbledpumice-stone. We placed the body in a crevice among the lava rocks,and then I said what I could remember of the burial-service. Afterthis we carried in our hands the crumbled pumice-stone until we hadcovered the body, and thus gave the poor fellow a Christian burial.
We then returned to the shore.
"More, old fellow," said Agnew, "I feel the better for this; theservice has done me good."
"And me too," said I. "It has reminded me of what I had forgotten.This world is only a part of life. We may lose it and yet live on.There is another world; and if we can only keep that in our minds wesha'n't be so ready to sink into despair--that is, I sha'n't. Despairis my weakness; you are more hopeful."
"Yes," said Agnew, solemnly; "but my hope thus far has referred on
lyto the safety of my skin. After this I shall try to think of my soul,and cultivate, not the hope of escape, but the hope full ofimmortality. Yes, More, after all we shall live, if not in England,then, let us hope, in heaven."
There was a long silence after this--that kind of silence which onemay preserve who is at the point of death.
"I wonder how he got here?" said Agnew, at last. "The letter mentionsa whaler. No doubt the ship has been driven too far south; it hasfoundered; he has escaped in a boat, either alone or with others; hehas been carried along this channel, and has landed here, afraid to goany farther."
"But his boat, what has become of that?"
"His boat! That must have gone long ago. The letter was written in1820. At any rate, let's look around."
We did so. After some search we found fragments of a rotted ropeattached to a piece of rock.
"That," said Agnew, "must have been fastened to the boat; and as forthe boat herself, she has long ago been swept away from this."
"What shall we do now?" I said, after a long silence.
"There's only one thing," said Agnew. "We must go on."
"Go on?" I asked, in wonder.
"Certainly," said he, confidently. "Will you stay here? No. Will yougo back? You can't. We must, therefore, go on. That is our only hope."
"Hope!" I cried. "Do you still talk of hope?"
"Hope?" said Agnew; "of course. Why not? There are no limits to hope,are there? One can hope anything anywhere. It is better to die whilestruggling like a man, full of hope and energy than to perish ininaction and despair. It is better to die in the storm and furiouswaters than to waste away in this awful place. So come along. Let'sdrift as before. Let's see where this channel will take us. It willcertainly take us somewhere. Such a stream as this must have someoutlet."
"This stream," said I, "will take us to death, and death only. Thecurrent grows swifter every hour. I've heard some old yarn of a vastopening at each of the poles, or one of them, into which the waters ofthe ocean pour. They fall into one, and some say they go through andcome out at the other."
Agnew laughed.
"That," said he, "is a madman's dream. In the first place, I don'tbelieve that we are approaching the south, but the north. The warmthof the climate here shows that. Yes, we are drawing north. We shallsoon emerge into warm waters and bright skies. So come along, and letus lose no more time."
I made no further objection. There was nothing else to be done, andat the very worst we could not be in greater danger while drifting onthan in remaining behind. Soon, therefore, we were again in the boat,and the current swept us on as before.
The channel now was about four miles wide. On either side arosethe lofty volcanoes vomiting forth flames and smoke with furiousexplosions; vast stones were hurled up into the air from the craters;streams of molten lava rolled down, and at intervals there fell greatshowers of ashes. The shores on either side were precipitous andrugged beyond all description, looking like fiery lava streams whichhad been arrested by the flood, and cooled into gloomy, overhangingcliffs. The lava rock was of a deep, dull slate-color, which at adistance looked black; and the blackness which thus succeeded tothe whiteness of the snow behind us seemed like the funeral pall ofnature. Through scenes like these we drifted on, and the volcanoes oneither side of the channel towered on high with their fiery floods oflava, their incessant explosions, their fierce outbursts of flames,and overhead there rolled a dense black canopy of smoke--altogetherforming a terrific approach to that unknown and awful pathway uponwhich we were going. So we passed this dread portal, and then therelay before us--what? Was it a land of life or a land of death? Whocould say?
It was evening when we passed through. Night came on, and the darknesswas illuminated by the fiery glow of the volcanic flames. Worn outwith fatigue, we fell asleep. So the night passed, and the currentbore us on until, at length, the morning came. We awoke, and now, forthe first time in many days, we saw the face of the sun. The cloudshad at last broken, the sky was clear, and behind us the sun wasshining. That sight told us all. It showed us where we were going.
I pointed to the sun.
"Look there," said I. "There is the sun in the northern sky--behindus. We have been drifting steadily toward the south."
At this Agnew was silent, and sat looking back for a long time. Therewe could still see the glow of the volcanic fires, though they werenow many miles away; while the sun, but lately risen, was lying on acourse closer to the horizon than we had ever seen it before.
"We are going south," said I--"to the South Pole. This swift currentcan have but one ending--there may be an opening at the South Pole, ora whirlpool like the Maelstrom."
Agnew looked around with a smile.
"All these notions," said he, "are dreams, or theories, or guesses.There is no evidence to prove them. Why trouble yourself about aguess? You and I can guess, and with better reason; for we have now,it seems, come farther south than any human being who has ever lived.Do not imagine that the surface of the earth is different at the polesfrom what it is anywhere else. If we get to the South Pole we shallsee there what we have always seen--the open view of land or water,and the boundary of the horizon. As for this current, it seems to melike the Gulf Stream, and it evidently does an important work in themovement of the ocean waters. It pours on through vast fields of iceon its way to other oceans, where it will probably become united withnew currents. Theories about openings at the poles, or whirlpools,must be given up. Since the Maelstrom has been found to be a fiction,no one need believe in any other whirlpool. For my own part, I nowbelieve that this current will bear us on, due south, over the pole,and then still onward, until at last we shall find ourselves in theSouth Pacific Ocean. So cheer up--don't be downhearted; there's stillhope. We have left the ice and snow behind, and already the air iswarmer. Cheer up; we may find our luck turn at any moment."
To this I had no reply to make. Agnew's confidence seemed to me to beassumed, and certainly did not alleviate my own deep gloom, nor wasthe scene around calculated to rouse me in the slightest degree out ofmy despair. The channel had now lessened to a width of not more thantwo miles; the shores on either side were precipitous cliffs, brokenby occasional declivities, but all of solid rock, so dark as to bealmost black, and evidently of volcanic origin. At times there aroserugged eminences, scarred and riven, indescribably dismal andappalling. There was not only an utter absence of life here in theseabhorrent regions, but an actual impossibility of life which wasenough to make the stoutest heart quail. The rocks looked like iron.It seemed a land of iron penetrated by this ocean stream which hadmade for itself a channel, and now bore us onward to a destinationwhich was beyond all conjecture.
Through such scenes we drifted all that day. Night came, and in theskies overhead there arose a brilliant display of the auroraaustralis, while toward the north the volcanic fires glowed withintense lustre. That night we slept. On awakening we noticed a changein the scene. The shores, though still black and forbidding, were nolonger precipitous, but sloped down gradually to the water; theclimate was sensibly milder, and far away before us there arose a lineof giant mountains, whose summits were covered with ice and snow thatgleamed white and purple in the rays of the sun.
Suddenly Agnew gave a cry, and pointed to the opposite shore.
"Look!" he cried--"do you see? They are men!"
I looked, and there I saw plainly some moving figures that were,beyond a doubt, human beings.
A Strange Manuscript Found in a Copper Cylinder Page 3