and knit brow told too plainly that hope was beginning to die within his breast.
And then the population of Tsalal Island, the almost naked men, armed with clubs and lances, the tall, well-made, upstanding women, endowed with grace and freedom of bearing not to be found in a civilized society—those are the expressions of Arthur Pym—and the crowd of children accompanying them, what had become of all these? Where were the multitude of natives, with black skins, black hair, black teeth, who regarded white colour with deadly terror?
All of a sudden a light flashed upon me. "An earthquake!" I exclaimed. "Yes, two or three of those terrible shocks, so common in these regions where the sea penetrates by infiltration, and a day comes when the quantity of accumulated vapour makes its way out and destroys everything on the surface."
"Could an earthquake have changed Tsalal Island to such an extent?" asked Len Guy, musingly.
"Yes, captain, an earthquake has done this thing; it has destroyed every trace of all that Arthur Pym saw here."
Hunt, who had drawn nigh to us, and was listening, nodded his head in approval of my words.
"Are not these countries of the southern seas volcanic?" I resumed. "If the Halbrane were to transport us to Victoria Land, we might find the Erebus and the Terror in the midst of an eruption."
"And yet," observed Martin Holt, "if there had been an eruption here, we should find lava beds."
"I do not say that there has been an eruption," I replied, "but I do say the soil has been convulsed by an earthquake."
