A Strange Discovery by Charles Romyn Dake
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Charles Romyn Dake >> A Strange Discovery
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"Why, sir," I said, "I cannot but wonder that you are not yourself a
professed Christian."
"Never mind me, young man.--But here we are on the edge of town. I
could, if I wanted to, preach a sermon capable of converting every
heathen within sound of my voice. Once, at a camp-meeting, I did preach
a sermon; and I tell you, the old people looked mighty sober, and the
younger and more susceptible of my auditors covered their faces with
their hands and seemed to shake with grief and contrition. But, pshaw,
pshaw; people don't go to hear either witty agnostics lecture, or
preachers preach, to get something for their brain-boxes to reason
about. Believe me "--tapping the volume, still in his hand--"this sort
of thing won't make anybody reason. After all, the question is one of
swapping off Christ for an Illinois lawyer."
The EIGHTH Chapter
It lacked half an hour of nine o'clock as we drove up before the Loomis
House, where I alighted, and ran up to my rooms. I had scarcely more
than made a hasty toilet, when Arthur came in. After telling me who had,
during my absence, called to see me, and after attending to some
trifling wants which I expressed, he shuffled his feet in a style that I
had learned to recognize as indicating a desire to say something not
within the compass of our purely business relationship--a liberty which
the precedents of our first two days of acquaintanceship in connection
with later events had solidified into a vested right.
"Well, Arthur?" I said.
"I read the whole book, sir--there it is, on the table. That book just
did get me. But what did become of Pym and Peters? And is it true you've
found that old soc-doligin' pirate?"
I told him that Peters was found.
"Well, now!" he continued. "I'd like to see the old four-foot-eighter.
But if you love me, tell me what that white curtain reachin' down from
the sky was, and what made the ocean bilin' hot? What made them
ante-artic niggers so 'fraid of everything white, and what was the
hiryglificks on the black marble meant to say? And, most of all, who was
the female that stood in the way of the boat? Say--I don't blame
anybody--but if Mr. Poe knowed he didn't know these points, what did he
get our mouths waterin' for? Did you find out these points yet?"
I explained to him that probably at that very moment Doctor Bainbridge
was sitting on the edge of Dirk Peters' cot, drinking in the wonderful
story; and that as soon as a certain gentleman had called to see me, I
expected to return to Peters' house, and to remain until we knew all.
"Go slow," said Arthur, "and don't fall down on any importing points.
Better take time, and catch everything. I asked Doctor Castleton last
night what made that ocean bile; and he said he guessed the mouth of
hell was down that way, and Satin had just opened the door to air out.
That's him; if it ain't heaven it's got to be hell. But how old Peters
ever lived this long with Castleton monkeyin' with him is a mighty funny
thing.--But who's that?"
A rap had sounded on my door. My caller had arrived.
I did not succeed in getting back to Bainbridge and Peters so soon as I
had expected. My business in the town dragged along far into the
evening, and it was nine o'clock by the time I was at liberty. At ten
o'clock I sent for a conveyance, and was driven to Peters' house, where
I arrived just before midnight.
I found Peters sleeping soundly, and Bainbridge dozing in a chair. My
entrance aroused Bainbridge. He arose, smiling, and was apparently glad
to see me. I saw at a glance that he had been successful in obtaining
from Peters the secrets of his antarctic voyage. "Well?" I asked.
"The information which I have gained," said Bainbridge, "even could I
procure no more, would suffice to explain all those mysteries that Poe
hints at as fact, and much that he seems to apprehend with that sixth
sense which in the genius approaches a union of clairvoyance and
prescience--mysteries of which he does not speak in language
sufficiently clear for common comprehension. At all events, I am not
disappointed; and more may yet be procured. There remains much of
interest, in the way of _minutiae_, which I expect to learn to-morrow. I
know now what made that antarctic region more than tropical, and what
the white curtain was--and is. I know how the hieroglyphics came in the
caverns of black marl. That antarctic country exceeds, in the truly
wonderful, anything in the world, old or new, with which I am
acquainted, or of which I have heard."
"But is it true? Have you not been listening to fairy tales?--or,
rather, to sailor tales?"
"When to-morrow I tell you what I have, hour after hour, with brief
rests, drawn from that poor old battered hulk"--he pointed toward
Peters' cot--"and when you consider what he is--then say if he is the
man, or his sailor friends are the men, to invent such a story. I admit
that at times during the day his mind seemed to wander slightly, and
that he has the usual faculty of sea-faring men for exaggeration; so
that at times I had to employ my best discrimination to enable me to
separate the real from the fanciful, that I might retain the true and
discard the untrue. He seems to have lived for more than a year in
proximity to the South Pole, and his experiences were as marvellous as
that country is strangely grand, and its people truly wonderful--Oh,
no--nothing on the Gulliver order; the people are not dwarfs or giants,
and they have no horses either that talk or that do not talk; no
yahoos--nothing in that line. 'Wings?' Oh, no--no flying men or women,
no women in gauze, either; everything quite in good taste and genteel.
Just wait, now; you'll hear it all in an orderly way--which I myself did
not, however. 'One-eyed?' I told you, just now, that it was all in good
taste and genteel. No, no; nothing Homeric--no sheep, and no sirens.
Now, I'm really tired, and you'll not succeed in starting me on a story
that'll take six or eight hours to tell, even if we do not stop to
discuss matters as we progress. To-morrow, as I before said, we will get
from Peters all other possible facts, and no doubt we shall gather
further particulars; then we will go to town. I intend to come out here
every day till Peters gets better or dies--and I suppose you will not
refuse to keep me company. Every evening we will meet in my rooms, or in
yours, and I will recite the story in my own way. Now does that satisfy
you?"
It satisfied me fully, I said; and then we spread our blankets, and made
a night of it on the floor.
The next day Bainbridge spent the forenoon, for the most part, sitting
on the edge of Dirk Peters' cot, listening to the old man talk,
describe, explain. I walked out, and explored the immediately adjacent
country, entertaining myself as best I could. At about two o'clock in
the afternoon we started for town, leaving Peters much better than when
two days before we had first, together, entered his humble home. We
promised to see him the next day; and, in fact, one or both of us
returned each day for many succeeding days. That evening Doctor
Bainbridge came to my rooms, and began the recitation of Dirk Peters'
story; and that, too, was continued from day to day.
And it is now time that the patient reader should also know the secrets
of that far-distant antarctic region--secrets of which Poe himself died
in ignorance--save as the genius, the seer, knows the wonders of heaven
and earth--sees gems that lie in hidden places, and flowers that bloom
obscurely, and feels the mysteries of ocean depths, and all that is so
far--or near, so great--or small, that common vision sees it not.
The NINTH Chapter
There may be among my readers some who have never read "The Narrative of
A. Gordon Pym," or have so long ago perused that interesting and
mysterious conception, that they have forgotten even the outlines of the
story. It is the purpose of the present chapter to review a few of the
incidents in that narrative, a knowledge of which will add to the
clearer understanding of Peters' story.
Those who are familiar with Edgar Allan Poe's admirable and entrancing
narrative just mentioned, are aware that it is written in
autobiographical form, the facts for the most part being furnished by
Pym in the shape of journal or diary entries, which are edited by Mr.
Poe. For such readers it will be but a waste of time to peruse the
present chapter, brief though it is. And let me further say to any
chance reader of mine who has never had opportunity to enjoy that
exciting and edifying work of America's great genius of prose fiction,
that he is to be envied the possession of the belated pleasure that
awaits him--only a treasured memory of which delight remains to the rest
of us.
From my own narrative I shall omit much of description and colloquy
which, during its development in 1877, occurred concerning discoveries
of a geographical and geological nature, and also many discussions of a
character purely philosophical; but no fact shall be discarded. The
historian has, in my opinion, no discretionary power concerning the
introduction or elimination of facts. His duty is plain, and in the
present instance it shall be faithfully performed.
The following presents a very general outline of "The Narrative of A.
Gordon Pym":
In the year 1827, Pym, just verging upon manhood, runs away from his
home in the town of Nantucket, on the island of the same name, in
companionship with his boy friend, Augustus Barnard, son of the captain
of the ship on which they depart. The name of the brig on which they
embark is the Grampus, which is starting for a trading voyage in the
South Pacific Ocean. Young Barnard secretes Pym in the hold of the brig,
to remain hidden until so far from land as to make a return of the
runaway impracticable. Pym, hidden amid the freightage of the hold,
falls into a prolonged slumber, probably caused by the foul air in that
part of the vessel. When the brig is four days at sea, a majority of the
crew mutiny; and after killing many of those who have not joined them,
Captain Barnard is set adrift in a small boat, without food and with
only a jug of water. Young Barnard is permitted to remain on the vessel.
There is a dog that plays a leading part in the mutiny episode by acting
as a messenger between Barnard and Pym, who had no other means of
communicating.
Next comes a counter mutiny, made necessary to preserve the life of one
Peters, a sailor to whom Barnard owes his life. The ship's cook is
determined to kill Peters, and is about to accomplish his purpose, when
Peters, young Barnard, and a sailor named Parker, who joins the two,
devise a plan for overcoming the mutineers of the "cook's party." This
they succeeded in doing by, at the right moment, producing from his
hiding-place young Pym, who is dressed to resemble a certain murdered
sailor whose corpse is still on the brig; and during the fright of the
"cook's party," Peters and Parker kill the cook and his followers.
Then the four--Barnard, Pym, Peters, and the sailor Parker--have many
thrilling adventures. The brig is finally wrecked in a storm, and only
the inverted hull remains above water, to which the four cling for many
days. The party is at last rescued by a trading-vessel on its way to
discover new lands in the Antarctic Ocean. They reach 83 south latitude,
soon after which a landing is made on an island inhabited by a tribe of
strange black people. Here, through a trick of the islanders, the crew
lose their lives--all save Pym and Peters. Parker had already died, and
in a manner more entertaining to the reader in the perusal than to
Parker in the performance; and which, Peters said forty-nine years
later, the mere thought of, always made him willing to wait for his
supper when he had of necessity to forego a dinner.
Whilst escaping in a small boat from this island, Pym and Peters abduct
one of the male natives. Like his fellows, this native is black, even to
his teeth; in fact, there is nothing white on the whole island; even the
water has its peculiarities. And also like his fellows, he dreads the
color _white_; and whenever he sees anything white he becomes almost
frenzied or paralyzed with terror. The small boat with its three
occupants is carried on an ocean current, to the south. One day Pym, in
taking a white handkerchief from his pocket allows the wind to flare it
into the face of the black islander, who sinks in convulsions to the
bottom of the boat, later moaning (as had moaned the other islanders on
seeing white), "Tekeli-li, tekeli-li." He continued to breathe, and no
more. The following day the body of a white animal floats by, a body
similar to one which they had seen on the beach of the island last
visited. Then they see in the south a white curtain, which, after their
further progress in its direction, they observe reaches from the sky to
the water. The water of the ocean current which is hurrying them along
becomes hour by hour warmer, and finally hot. An ash-like material,
which seems to melt as it touches the water, falls all around and over
them. Gigantic white birds fly from beyond the white curtain, screaming
the eternal "Teke-li-li, tekeli-li"--a syllabication that dies away on
the lips of the islander as his soul finally, on that last terrible day,
leaves his body.
The last words of the last of Pym's entries in his journal are as
follows:
"And now we rushed into the embraces of the cataract, where a chasm
threw itself open to receive us. But there arose in our pathway a
shrouded human figure, very far larger in its proportions than any
dweller among men. And the hue of the skin of the figure was of the
perfect whiteness of the snow."
The following description of Dirk Peters as he appeared in the year
1827, or just fifty years before I saw him, apparently a man of
seventy-five years (though we finally concluded that he was nearer
eighty), is Pym's, quoted from Poe's narrative:
"This man was the son of an Indian woman of the tribe of Upsarokas, who
live among fastnesses of the Black Hills, near the source of the
Missouri. His father was a fur-trader, I believe, or at least connected
in some manner with the Indian trading-posts on Lewis River. Peters
himself was one of the most ferocious looking men I ever beheld. He was
short in stature, not more than four feet eight inches high, but his
limbs were of Herculean mould. His hands, especially, were so enormously
thick and broad as hardly to retain a human shape. His arms, as well as
his legs, were bowed in the most singular manner, and appeared to
possess no flexibility whatever. His head was equally deformed, being of
immense size, with an indentation on the crown (like that on the head of
most negroes) and entirely bald. To conceal this latter deficiency,
which did not proceed from old age, he usually wore a wig formed of any
hair-like material which presented itself--occasionally the skin of a
Spanish dog or American grizzly bear. At the time spoken of, he had on a
portion of one of these bear-skins; and it added no little to the
natural ferocity of his countenance, which betook of the Upsaroka
character. The mouth extended nearly from ear to ear; the lips were
thin, and seemed, like some other portions of his frame, to be devoid of
natural pliancy, so that the ruling expression never varied under the
influence of any emotion whatever. This ruling expression may be
conceived when it is considered that the teeth were exceedingly long and
protruding, and were never even partially covered, in any instance, by
the lips. To pass this man with a casual glance, one might imagine him
to be convulsed with laughter; but a second look would induce a
shuddering acknowledgment, that if such an expression were indicative of
merriment, the merriment must be that of a demon. Of this singular being
many anecdotes were prevalent among the seafaring men of Nantucket.
These anecdotes went to prove his prodigious strength when under
excitement, and some of them had given rise to a doubt of his sanity."
The TENTH Chapter
During the early evening of the day on which Doctor Bainbridge and I
returned from our stay with Dirk Peters, I sat in my room at the Loomis
House, impatiently awaiting the moment when Bainbridge was to arrive. I
knew that he was wearied by his labors with Peters, and I did not
anticipate a prolonged talk from him. Still, I was anxious to hear at
least a beginning of the promised story. At the appointed time he came
in, and placing a roll of paper on the table, took the large easy-chair
which I had placed for him.
"As I know," he said, "that the developments of the past three days
must, quite naturally, have developed a curiosity in you of some
intensity to hear the sequel of the Pym adventures, I shall endeavor not
to keep you unnecessarily waiting; but shall allay at once a portion of
your curiosity. Later--tomorrow, if agreeable--I will deal with the
particulars of that strange voyage--perhaps the strangest ever made by
man."
He picked up, and smoothed out upon the table, the roll of paper which
he had brought with him; and then continued:
"In the first place, I will briefly and in a very general way describe
for you the south polar region, which, I feel certain, Pym and Peters
reached, and where they resided for somewhat more than one year. Here is
a map which I have with some care drawn from rough sketches jotted down
as I sat on the edge of Peters' cot, and each of which sketches I had
him verify.
[Illustration: Map of Southpolar region and hili-li
A. Central space of boiling lava Diameter 15 miles. Probable situation
South Pole
B. Ring of hot lava, white hot at inner edge, red hot at outer edge.
Width, about 4 miles
C. Ring of hot lava, dull red, shading to black heat at outer edge.
Width, about 4 miles
D. Ring 4m in width. Blocks of lava, rock salt, and coral-like terrains
EEE. Volcanic mountains, up to 8m in height and valleys
FFF. Antarctic Ocean with islands
SOUTH POLAR REGION _and_ HILI-LI LAND.]
"Now move this way with your chair, and look at this map. And in the
first place, I will tell you that at the South Pole--probably not
precisely at the pole, but certainly within the sixth of a degree of
it--is a circular surface of absolutely white-hot, boiling lava, about
fifteen miles in diameter. This surface was, in ages past, as indicated
by surroundings, many times its present surface extent--say from seventy
to seventy-five miles across. No doubt the surface of the earth at the
Antarctic Pole had once cooled, and later become covered with water,
though with very shallow water--probably at some points by none, at
others by a depth of ten or fifteen feet. From some cause--and many
causes might be imagined--this earth-and-water surface of say two
hundred miles in circumference, sank into the interior of the earth, and
the boiling lava came to the surface. We can scarcely conceive of the
awful effect when the Antarctic Sea poured over the circumference of
this mass of boiling earth and metal.
"Now it must be considered that this boiling lava was not merely a great
surface of white-hot matter, in which case it would, relatively
speaking, soon have cooled. To flood its edges with an overflow of ten
feet of water would be comparable to running a film of water a hundredth
of an inch in depth over the top of a red-hot stove in which a large
fire continues to burn and constantly to renew the heat on its surface.
This surface of boiling lava must have had a practically limitless
depth, and the water which poured over it must have evaporated
instantly. After thinking the matter over, with the _data_ which I have
well in view, I concluded that it required about two hundred years for
the water to reach the limit which it finally attained as water _en
masse_. A little thought on the subject has shown me that Peters is
telling the truth, because his description, to my mind, harmonizes with
the laws of physics. One of the earliest phenomena presented by this
condition, was that so much sea-water evaporated, and evaporated so
rapidly, that masses of rock-salt formed, creating a partial barrier to
the inroads of the sea--I say a partial barrier, because the
deliquescence of salt would cause it to be the poorest of all barriers
to water. Still, we must remember that the immediately surrounding water
must have reached, so far as salt is concerned, the saturation point,
and would have been a very slow solvent of hard rock-salt in enormous
masses and several miles in extent. Then, two other conditions soon
arose: First, the warm surrounding water permitted a coral-like
development, as shown by present appearances, and second, volcanic
action began.
"Now look at my map. This inner circle represents the present area of
boiling lava, which, as I have said, is about fifteen miles in
diameter--the South Pole, according to the natives, being at about the
point corresponding to this dot, marked 'a.' The ring next without the
circle I have made to represent a zone of lava which is at its inner
edge white-hot, and at its outer edge red-hot, its width, let us say, as
the division is arbitrary, about four miles. The second circle
represents a zone of lava which is dull red at its inner edge, and
black, but hot, at its outer. Of course the lava blends away from
white-hot within, to barely warm without; but I thus map it, the better
to picture reigning conditions. The next circle, some four or five miles
in width, represents a ring of cold lava-blocks, masses of rock-salt,
and animalculine remains, from twenty-five to two hundred feet high.
Outside of this last-mentioned zone, we have several rings of volcanic
mountains with intervening valleys, and many active craters at the
summit of mountains; while on the mountain-sides lie numerous masses of
rock-salt, thrown from below by eruptive action, glistening in the
brilliant volcanic light, and slowly deliquescing. This zone of
mountains and valleys is from ten to twenty miles in width, and whilst
in the main its mountains are not more than from half a mile to a mile
high, it contains peaks of five or six miles in height, and there is one
peak which rises nine miles above the sea-level.
"I want you to look particularly at these larger mountain-ranges, one at
the right, the other at the left side of my map--each of which as it
stretches out into the sea divides into two smaller chains. Upon these
ranges, and the comparatively diminutive height of the intervening
mountains, in connection with the fact that there is a constant
wind-current from the lower Pacific (generally speaking, from the west
of longitude 74 W.), depends the habitability of this large island, the
Island of Hili-li (here represented in about longitude 75 E.), and many
other islands which stretch out in the same direction from this enormous
active surface-crater. I say that upon such conditions depends the
habitability of these islands, and so I believe; but there is another
cause for their greater than tropical warmth: If you will glance here on
the right of this map, in the midst of the mountain zone you will see
represented a bay, which, winding among mountains, makes its way very
close to the zone of hot lava--in fact, is divided from it by little
more than the ring of lava-blocks, rock-salt, and animal remains, which
at this point is narrowed to a width of about two miles. The temperature
of the water of this bay at its inner extremity is probably about 180
F.--say 32 below the boiling-point of distilled water; and it flows in a
steady current past the Island of Hili-li. This bay is undoubtedly fed
from the opposite side of the great crater, and its supply flows for
miles in contact with hot lava. It is probable that this extremely warm
water current greatly assists the hot-air current in creating the
super-tropical climate of Hili-li.
"And now, as I have in part satisfied your curiosity, and as I am
somewhat exhausted with my two days' and nights' experience with Peters,
I know you will permit me to rest at so suitable a stopping-point.
To-morrow evening I will take up the story of Dirk Peters where it joins
the sudden break in Pym's journal, and will carry you along to the time
when the inhabitants of Hili-li thought that the atmosphere of some
other land would be more conducive to Peters' longevity and health, as
well as to their own tranquillity. And I assure your Sultanship, that
the story I shall relate to you to-morrow night will be more interesting
than the dry physical facts which I have this evening imparted, and
which it seemed best that you should know before hearing in consecutive
detail the particulars of Peters' voyage."
I assented to his suggestions, thanking him for the clear description
which he had given of that strange region, and for the pains he had
taken to draft of it so accurate a map--which map he allowed me to
retain. I was about to ask a question, when the door opened, and Doctor
Castleton rushed into the room.
"Well, how's the old man?" he asked.
We described Peters' condition; and I even recounted a few of the facts
which Bainbridge had just imparted to me. Then I asked the question
which Castleton's abrupt entry had delayed.
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