was dragged away by
the fugitives, who reached a boat which had been pulled up on the
beach and was laden with three huge turtles. A score of natives
pursued and vainly tried to stop them; the former were driven off,
and the boat was launched successfully and steered for the south.

Arthur Pym was then navigating beyond the eighty-fourth degree of
south latitude. It was the beginning of March, that is to say, the
antarctic winter was approaching. Five or six islands, which it was
prudent to avoid, were visible towards the west. Arthur Pym's
opinion was that the temperature would become more mild by degrees
as they approached the pole. They tied together two white shirts
which they had been wearing, and hoisted them to do duty as a sail.
At sight of these shirts the native, who answered to the name of
Nu-Nu, was terrified. For eight days this strange voyage continued,
favoured by a mild wind from the north, in permanent daylight, on a
sea without a fragment of ice, indeed, owing to the high and even
temperature of the water, no ice had been seen since the parallel of
Bennet Island.

Then it was that Arthur Pym and Dirk Peters entered upon a region of
novelty and wonder. Above the horizon line rose a broad bar of light
grey vapour, striped with long luminous rays, such as are projected
by the polar aurora. A very strong current came to the aid of the
breeze. The boat sailed rapidly upon a liquid surface of milky
aspect, exceedingly hot, and apparently agitated from beneath. A
fine white ash-dust began to fall, and this increased the terror of
Nu-Nu, whose lips trembled over his two rows of black ivory.

On the 9th of March this rain of ashes fell in redoubled volume, and
the temperature of the water rose so high that the hand could no
longer bear it. The immense curtain of vapour, spread over the
distant perimeter of the southern horizon resembled a boundless
cataract falling noiselessly from the height of some huge rampart
lost in the height of the heavens.

Twelve days later, it was darkness that hung over these waters,
darkness furrowed by luminous streaks darting from the milky depths
of the Antarctic Ocean, while the incessant shower of ash-dust fell
and melted in its waters.

The boat approached the cataract with an impetuous velocity whose
cause is not explained in the narrative of Arthur Pym. In the midst
of this frightful darkness a flock of gigantic birds, of livid white
plumage, swept by, uttering their