y have thin necks two feet long, triangular snake-like heads, and
can go without food for very long periods.

Arthur Pym has compared the antarctic turtles to dromedaries,
because, like those ruminants, they have a pouch just where the neck
begins, which contains from two to three gallons of cold fresh
water. He relates, before the scene of the lot-drawing, that but for
one of these turtles the shipwrecked crew of the _Grampus_ must have
died of hunger and thirst. If Pym is to be believed, some of the
great turtles weigh from twelve to fifteen hundred pounds. Those of
Halbrane Land did not go beyond seven or eight hundred pounds, but
their flesh was none the less savoury.

On the 19th of February an incident occurred--an incident which
those who acknowledge the intervention of Providence in human
affairs will recognize as providential.

It was eight o'clock in the morning; the weather was calm; the sky
was tolerably clear; the thermometer stood at thirty-two degrees
Fahrenheit.

We were assembled in the cavern, with the exception of the
boatswain, waiting for our breakfast, which Endicott was preparing,
and were about to take our places at table, when we heard a call
from outside.

The voice was Hurliguerly's, and we hurried out. On seeing us, he
cried,--

"Come--come quickly?"

He was standing on a rock at the foot of the hillock above the beach
in which Halbrahe Land ended beyond the point, and his right hand
was stretched out towards the sea.

"What is it?" asked Captain Len Guy.

"A boat."

"Is it the _Halbrane's_ boat coming back?"

"No, captain--it is not."

Then we perceived a boat, not to be mistaken for that of our
schooner in form or dimensions, drifting without oars or paddle,
seemingly abandoned to the current.

We had but one idea in common--to seize at any cost upon this
derelict craft, which would, perhaps, prove our salvation. But how
were we to reach it? how were we to get it in to the point of
Halbrane Land?

While we were looking distractedly at the boat and at each other,
there came a sudden splash at the end of the hillock, as though a
body had fallen into the sea.

It was Dirk Peters, who, having flung off his clothes, had sprung
from the top of a rock, and was swimming rapidly towards the boat
before we made him out.

We cheered him heartily. I never beheld anything like that swimming.
He bounded through the waves like a porpoise, and indeed he
possessed the strength and s