is abundantly furnished, her crew complete and in good health? Shall we take fright at imaginary dangers? Shall we not have courage to go on, on, thither?"
And I pointed to the southern horizon. Dirk Peters pointed to it also, with an imperative gesture which spoke for him.
Still, the eyes of all were fixed upon us, but there was no response. I continued to urge every argument, and to quote every example in favour of the safety of pursuing our voyage, but the silence was unbroken, and now the men stood with eyes cast down.
And yet I had not once pronounced the name of Dirk Peters, nor alluded to Dirk Peters' proposal.
I was asking myself whether I had or had not succeeded in inspiring my companions with my own belief, when Captain Len Guy spoke:
"Dirk Peters," he said, "do you assert that Arthur Pym and you after your departure from Tsalal Island saw land in the direction of the south?"
"Yes, land," answered the half-breed. "Islands or continent—understand me—and I believe that Pym, poor Pym, is waiting there until aid comes to him."
"There, where perhaps William Guy and his companions are also waiting," said I, to bring back the discussion to more practical points.
Captain Len Guy reflected for a little while, and then spoke:
"Is it true, Dirk Peters," he asked, "that beyond the eighty-fourth parallel the horizon is shut in by that curtain of vapour which is described in the narrative? Have you seen—seen with your own eyes—those cataracts in the air, that gulf in which Arthur Pym's boat was lost?"
