thy of such rashness and imprudence!

At last, the instinct of self-preservation triumphed, and except
Hearne, who stood some distance off and affected silence, all the
men shouted: "To the boat! to the boat!"

These unfortunate fellows were out of their mind. Terror led them
astray. They rushed towards the crag where our one boat (which could
not hold them all) had been sheltered during the unloading of the
schooner.

Captain Len Guy and Jem West rushed after them. I joined them
immediately, followed by the boatswain. We were armed, and resolved
to make use of our arms. We had to prevent these furious men from
seizing the boat, which did not belong to a few, but to all!

"Hallo, sailors!" cried the captain.

"Hallo!" repeated West, "stop there, or we fire on the first
who goes a step farther!"

Both threatened the men with their pistols. The boatswain pointed
his gun at them. I held my rifle, ready to fire.

It was in vain! The frenzied men heard nothing, would not hear
anything, and one of them fell, struck by the mate's bullet, just
as he was crossing the last block. He was unable to catch on to the
bank with his hands, and slipping on the frozen slope, he
disappeared in the abyss.

Was this the beginning of a massacre? Would others let themselves be
killed at this place? Would the old hands side with the new-comers?

At that moment I remarked that Hardy, Martin Holt, Francis Bury, and
Stern hesitated about coming over to our side, while Hearne, still
standing motionless at some distance, gave no encouragement to the
rebels.

However, we could not allow them to become masters of the boat, to
bring it down, to embark ten or twelve men, and to abandon us to our
certain fate on this iceberg. They had almost reached the boat,
heedless of danger and deaf to threats, when a second report was
heard, and one of the sailors fell, by a bullet from the
boatswain's gun.

One American and one Fuegian less to be numbered amongst the
sealing-master's partisans!

Then, in front of the boat, a man appeared. It was Dirk Peters, who
had climbed the opposite slope.

The half-breed put one of his enormous hands on the stern and with
the other made a sign to the furious men to clear off. Dirk Peters
being there, we no longer needed our arms, as he alone would suffice
to protect the boat.

And indeed, as five or six of the sailors were advancing, he went up
to them, caught hold of the nearest by the belt, lifted him up,