And now I come to the mystery of our disappearance.
Our voyage had been an exceedingly prosperous one till we reached the vicinity of the Crozet Islands, in the South Pacific.
This solitary group, 'placed far amid the melancholy main,' comprising the Marion Rocks and the Twelve Apostles, lies midway between Prince Edward's Island and the Island of Kerguelen, the abode only of seals and sea swallows, and twenty-two degrees west of the equally solitary St. Paul's, whereon H.M.S. Megara was cast away.
The Crozet Islands are all of volcanic origin—wild, rugged, and horrid in aspect, and nearly inaccessible. Their mountains rise in conical peaks to an elevation of from four to five thousand feet, and are covered by perpetual snow, while dense fogs frequently envelop their bases.
Before we came to this dangerous vicinity we had encountered a gale; but it had spent its fury, and was subsiding. The prospect, however, of the winter evening sea (for though the month was July, it was the season of midwinter there) was cheerless—a darkening sky, and nothing living in view but a seabird or two, swimming and skimming over the white tops of the grey waves.
It had become evident to all on board that the captain's work as navigator disagreed with that of the mate and Joe Rudderford. He was 'out of his reckoning,' but was wroth with anyone who dared to hint that he was so; and, to allay his chagrin, drank large quantities of spirits.
With night dense fogs came down upon the sea; the captain walked the deck excitedly, keeping a glass of spirits standing near him on the binnacle-head. He often looked aloft, and talked to himself. At one of these times, a little dog he had ran between his legs and nearly capsized him. With a fierce oath he took the poor animal up by the neck, and threw it into the sea.
On this, the sailors looked darkly in each other's faces, and felt sure that mischief was soon to follow.
The mate and Joe Rudderford now suggested respectfully, that, as the fog was deepening and the wind freshening, some of the canvas should be taken off the ship; but, in a gust of fury, the captain, instead of adopting their advice, had her trimmed before the wind, the yards squared, and the fore and main studding-sails hoisted to port and starboard. Willie Rudderford was at the wheel.
The seamen grew pale, and muttered under their breath as they obeyed the rash orders, and belayed the tackle.