Where had they taken refuge? This was the ever-pressing question. What answer were we to obtain? Must we conclude that having reached one of these islets they had perished in the swallowing-up of the archipelago? We debated this point, as may be supposed, at a length and with detail which I can only indicate here. Suffice it to say that a decision was arrived at to the following effect. Our sole chance of discovering the unfortunate castaways was to continue our voyage for two or three parallels farther; the goal was there, and which of us would not sacrifice even his life to attain it? "God is guiding us, Mr. Jeorling," said Captain Len Guy. CHAPTER XVIII. A REVELATION. The following day, the 29th of December, at six in the morning, the schooner set sail with a north-east wind, and this time her course was due south. The two succeeding days passed wholly without incident; neither land nor any sign of land was observed. The men on the _Halbrane_ took great hauls of fish, to their own satisfaction and ours. It was New Year's Day, 1840, four months and seventeen days since I had left the Kerguelens and two months and five days since the _Halbrane_ had sailed from the Falklands. The half-breed, between whom and myself an odd kind of tacit understanding subsisted, approached the bench on which I was sitting--the captain was in his cabin, and West was not in sight--with a plain intention of conversing with me. The subject may easily be guessed. "Dirk Peters," said I, taking up the subject at once, "do you wish that we should talk of _him_?" "Him!" he murmured. "You have remained faithful to his memory, Dirk Peters." "Forget him, sir! Never!" "He is always there--before you?" "Always! So many dangers shared! That makes brothers! No, it makes a father and his son! Yes! And I have seen America again, but Pym--poor Pym--he is still beyond there!" "Dirk Peters," I asked, "have you any idea of the route which you and Arthur Pym followed in the boat after your departure from Tsalal Island?" "None, sir! Poor Pym had no longer any instrument--you know--sea machines--for looking at the sun. We could not know, except that for the eight days the current pushed us towards the south, and the wind also. A fine breeze and a fair sea, and our shirts for a sail." "Yes, white linen shirts, which frightened your prisoner Nu Nu--" "Perhaps so--I did not notice. But if Pym has said so, Pym must be believed." "And during those eight days you were able to supply yourselves with food?" "Yes, sir, and the days after--we and the savage. You know--the three turtles that were in the boat. These animals contain a store of fresh water--and their flesh is sweet, even raw. Oh, raw flesh, sir!"