"I do not remember, sir, but if Pym says it was so, Pym must be believed."
"Did he never speak to you of fiery rays which fell from the sky?" I did not use the term "polar aurora," lest the half-breed should not understand it.
"Never, sir," said Dirk Peters, after some reflection.
"Did you not remark that the colour of the sea changed, grew white like milk, and that its surface became ruffled around your boat?"
"It may have been so, sir; I did not observe. The boat went on and on, and my head went with it."
"And then, the fine powder, as fine as ashes, that fell—"
"I don't remember it."
"Was it not snow?"
"Snow? Yes! No! The weather was warm. What did Pym say? Pym must be believed." He lowered his voice and continued: "But Pym will tell you all that, sir. He knows. I do not know. He saw, and you will believe him."
"Yes, Dirk Peters, I shall believe him."
"We are to go in search of him, are we not?"
"I hope so."
"After we shall have found William Guy and the sailors of the Jane?"
"Yes, after."
"And even if we do not find them?"
"Yes, even in that case. I think I shall induce our captain. I think he will not refuse—"
"No, he will not refuse to bring help to a man—a man like him!"
"And yet," I said, "if William Guy and his people are living, can we admit that Arthur Pym—"
