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- Жюль Верн
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I
rushed
out
of
my
cabin
.
“
Have
you
let
the
wheel
go
?
”
repeated
West
,
who
had
seized
Hearne
by
the
collar
of
his
jersey
.
“
Lieutenant
—
I
don
’
t
know
—
”
“
Yes
,
I
tell
you
,
you
have
let
it
go
.
A
little
more
and
the
schooner
would
have
capsized
under
full
sail
”
“
Gratian
,
”
cried
West
,
calling
one
of
the
sailors
,
“
take
the
helm
;
and
you
,
Hearne
,
go
down
into
the
hold
.
”
On
a
sudden
the
cry
of
“
Land
!
”
resounded
,
and
every
eye
was
turned
southwards
.
“
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
.
