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“Land” is the only word to be found at the beginning of the nineteenth chapter of Edgar Poe′s book. I thought it would be a good idea—placing after it a note of interrogation—to put it as a heading to this portion of our narrative.
Did that word, dropped from our fore-masthead, indicate an island or a continent? And, whether a continent or an island, did not a disappointment await us? Could they be there whom we had come to seek? And Arthur Pym, who was dead, unquestionably dead, in spite of Dirk Peters′ assertions, had he ever set foot on this land?
When the welcome word resounded on board the Jane on the 17th January, 1828—(a day full of incidents according to Arthur Pym′s diary)—it was succeeded by “Land on the starboard bow!” Such might have been the signal from the masthead of the Halbrane.
The outlines of land lightly drawn above the sky line were visible on this side.
The land announced to the sailors of the fane was the wild and barren Bennet Islet. Less than one degree south of it lay Tsalal Island, then fertile, habitable and inhabited, and on which Captain Len Guy had hoped to meet his fellow-countrymen. But what would this unknown island, five degrees farther off in the depths of the southern sea, be for our schooner? Was it the goal so ardently desired and so earnestly sought for? Were the two brothers, William and Len Guy, to meet at this place Would the Halbrane come there to the end of a voyage whose success would be definitely secured by the restoration of the survivors of the fane to their country?
I repeat that I was just like the half-breed. Our aim was not merely to discover the survivors, nor was success in this matter the only success we looked for. However, since land was before our eyes, we must get nearer to it first.
That cry of “Land” caused an immediate diversion of our thoughts. I no longer dwelt upon the secret Dirk Peters had just told me—and perhaps the half-breed forgot it also, for he rushed to the bow and fixed his eyes immovably on the horizon. As for West, whom nothing could divert from his duty, he repeated his commands. Gratian came to take the helm, and Hearne was shut up in the hold.
On the whole this was a just punishment, and none of the old crew protested against it, for Hearne′s inattention awkwardness had really endangered the schooner, for a short time only.
Five or six of the Falklands sailors did, however, murmur a little.
A sign from the mate silenced them, and they returned at once to their posts.
Needless to say, Captain Len Guy, upon hearing the cry of the look-out man, had tumbled up from his cabin: and eagerly examined this land at ten or twelve miles distance.
As I have said, I was no longer thinking about the secret Dirk Peters had confided to me. Besides, so long as the secret remained between us two—and neither would betray it—there would be nothing to fear. But if ever an unlucky accident were to reveal to Martin Holt that his brother′s name (...)
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