mind the horror of the reality.

Yes! I knew that hideous story, not a fable, as I had long believed.
This was what had happened on board the _Grampus_, on the 16th of
July, 1827, and vainly did I try to understand Dirk Peters' reason
for recalling it to my recollection.

"Well, Dirk Peters," I said, "I will ask you, since you were
anxious to hide your name, what it was that induced you to reveal
it, when the _Halbrane_ was moored off Tsalal Island; why you did not
keep to the name of Hunt?"

"Sir--understand me--there was hesitation about going
farther--they wanted to turn back. This was decided, and then I
thought that by telling who I was--Dirk Peters--of the
_Grampus_--poor Pym's companion--I should be heard; they would
belieye with me that he was still living, they would go in search of
him! And yet, it was a serious thing to do--to acknowledge that I
was Dirk Peters, he who had killed Parker! But hunger, devouring
hunger!"

"Come, come, Dirk Peters," said I, "you exaggerate! If the lot
had fallen to you, you would have incurred the fate of Parker. You
cannot be charged with a crime."

"Sir, would Parker's family speak of it as you do?"

"His family! Had he then relations?"

"Yes--and that is why Pym changed his name in the narrative.
Parker's name was not Parker--it was--"

"Arthur Pym was right," I said, interrupting him quickly, "and
as for me, I do not wish to know Parker's real name. Keep this
secret."

"No, I will tell it to you. It weighs too heavily on me, and I
shall be relieved, perhaps, when I have told you, Mr. Jeorling."

"No, Dirk Peters, no!"

"His name was Holt--Ned Holt."

"Holt!" I exclaimed, "the same name as our
sailing-master's."

"Who is his own brother, sir."

"Martin Holt?"

"Yes--understand me--his brother."

"But he believes that Ned Holt perished in the wreck of the
_Grampus_ with the rest."

"It was not so, and if he learned that I--"

Just at that instant a violent shock flung me out of my bunk.

The schooner had made such a lurch to the port side that she was
near foundering.

I heard an angry voice cry out:

"What dog is that at the helm?"

It was the voice of West, and the person he was Hearne.

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 ful