"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 believe 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 addressed 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 full sail." "Gratian," cried West, calling one of the sailors, "take the helm; and you, Hearne, go down into the hold." On a sudden the cry of "Land!" resounded, and every eye was turned southwards. CHAPTER XIX. LAND? "Land" is the only word to be found at the beginning of the nineteenth chapter of Edgar Poe's book. I thought it would be a good idea--placing after it a note of interrogation--to put it as a heading to this portion of our narrative. Did that word, dropped from our fore-masthead, indicate an island or a continent? And, whether a continent or an island, did not a disappointment await us? Could they be there whom we had come to seek? And Arthur Pym, who was dead, unquestionably dead, in spite of Dirk Peters' assertions, had he ever set foot on this land? When the welcome word resounded on board the _Jane_ on the 17th January, 1828--(a day full of incidents according to Arthur Pym's diary)--it was succeeded by "Land on the starboard bow!" Such might have been the signal from the masthead of the _Halbrane_.