_A strange manuscript found in a copper cylinder_
          (the first installment)

     from _Harper's weekly_ (1888-jan-07)

            (by James De Mille)

Chapter I.  The Finding of the Copper Cylinder

  It occurred as far back as February 15, 1850.  It happened on
that day that the yacht _Falcon_ lay becalmed upon the
ocean between the Canaries and the Madeira Islands.  This
yacht _Falcon_ was the property of Lord Featherstone, who,
being weary of life in England, had taken a few congenial friends
for a winter's cruise in these southern latitudes.  They had
visited the Azores, the Canaries, and the Madeira Islands, and were
now on their way to the Mediterranean.

  The wind had failed, a deep calm had succeeded, and everywhere,
as far as the eye could reach, the water was smooth and glassy. 
The yacht rose and fell at the impulse of the long ocean
undulations, and the creaking of the spars sounded out a lazy
accompaniment to the motion of the vessel.  All around was a watery
horizon, except in the one place only, towards the south, where far
in the distance the Peak of Teneriffe rose into the air.

  The profound calm, the warm atmosphere, the slow pitching of the
yacht, and the dull creaking of the spars all combined to lull into
a state of indolent repose the people on board.  Forward were the
crew; some asleep, others smoking, others playing cards.  At the
stern were Oxenden, the intimate friend of Featherstone, and Dr.
Congreve, who had come in the double capacity of friend and medical
attendant.  These two, like the crew, were in a state of dull and
languid repose.  Suspended between the two masts, in an Indian
hammock, lay Featherstone, with a cigar in his mouth and
a novel in his hand, which he was pretending to read.  The fourth
member of the party, Melick, was seated near the mainmast, folding
some papers in a peculiar way.  His occupation at length attracted
the roving eyes of Featherstone, who poked forth his head from his
hammock, and said in a sleepy voice:

  "I say, Melick, you're the most energetic fellah I ever saw.
By Jove! you're the only one aboard that's busy.  What are
you doing?"

  "Paper boats," said Melick, in a business-like tone.

  "Paper boats!  By Jove!" said Featherstone.  "What for?"

  "I'm going to have a regatta," said Melick.  "Anything to
kill time, you know."

  "By Jove!" exclaimed Featherstone again, raising himself
higher in his hammock, "that's not a bad idea.  A wegatta!
By Jove!  glowious!  glowious!  I say, Oxenden, did you hear
that?"

  "What do you mean by a regatta?" asked Oxenden, lazily.

  "Oh, I mean a race with these paper boats.  We can bet on
them, you know."

  At this Featherstone sat upright, with his legs dangling
out of the hammock.

  "By Jove!" he exclaimed again.  "Betting!  So we can.  Do
you know, Melick, old chap, I think that's a wegular piece
of inspiration.  A wegatta! and we can bet on the best boat."

  "But there isn't any wind," said Oxenden.

  "Well, you know, that's the fun of it" said Melick, who
went solemnly on as he spoke, folding his paper boats;
"that's the fun of it.  For you see if there was a wind we
should be going on ourselves, and the regatta couldn't come
off; but, as it is, the water is just right.  You pick out your
boat, and lay your bet on her to race to some given point."

  "A given point?  But how can we find any?"

  "Oh, easily enough; something or anything--a bubble'll
do, or we can pitch out a bit of wood."

  Upon this Featherstone descended from his perch, and
came near to examine the proceedings, while the other two,
eager to take advantage of the new excitement, soon joined
him.  By this time Melick had finished his paper boats.
There were four of them, and they were made of different
colors, namely, red, green, yellow, and white.

  "I'll put these in the water," said Melick, "and then we
can lay our bets on them as we choose.  But first let us see
if there is anything that can be taken as a point of arrival.
If there isn't anything, I can pitch out a bit of wood, in any
direction which may seem best."

  Saying this, he went to the side, followed by the others,
and all looked out carefully over the water.

  "There's a black speck out there," said Oxenden.

  "So there is," said Featherstone.  "That'll do.  I wonder
what it is?"

  "Oh, a bit of timber," said Melick.  "Probably the spar of
some ship."

  "It don't look like a spar," said the doctor; "it's only a
round spot, like the float of some net."

  "Oh, it's a spar," said Melick.  "It's one end of it, the rest
is under water."

  The spot thus chosen was a dark, circular object, about a
hundred yards away, and certainly did look very much like
the extremity of some spar, the rest of which was under
water.  Whatever it was, however, it served well enough for
their present purpose, and no one took any further interest
in it, except as the point towards which the paper boats 
should run in their eventful race.

  Melick now let himself down over the side, and placed
the paper boats on the water as carefully as possible.  After
this the four stood watching the little fleet in silence.  The
water was perfectly still, and there was no perceptible wind,
but there were draughts of air caused by the rise and fall of
the yacht, and these affected the tiny boats.  Gradually they
drew apart, the green one drifting astern, the yellow one
remaining under the vessel, while the red and the white
were carried out in the direction where they were expected
to go, with about a foot of space between them.

  "Two to one on the red!" cried Featherstone, betting on
the one which had gained the lead.

  "Done," said Melick, promptly taking his offer.

  Oxenden made the same bet, which was taken by Melick
and the doctor.

  Other bets were now made as to the direction which they
would take, as to the distance by which the red would beat
the white, as to the time which would be occupied by the
race, and as to fifty other things which need not be mentioned.  
All took part in this; the excitement rose high and
the betting went on merrily.  At length it was noticed that
the white was overhauling the red.  The excitement grew
intense; the betting changed its form, but was still kept up,
until at last the two paper boats seemed blended together
in one dim spot which gradually faded out of sight.

  It was now necessary to determine the state of the race,
so Featherstone ordered out the boat.  The four were soon
embarked, and the men rowed out towards the point which
had been chosen as the end of the race.  On coming near
they found the paper boats stuck together, saturated with
water, and floating limp on the surface.  An animated discussion 
arose about this.  Some of the bets were off, but others
remained an open question, and each side insisted upon a
different view of the case.  In the midst of this, Featherstone's
attention was drawn to the dark spot already mentioned
as the goal of the race.

  "That's a queer-looking thing," said he, suddenly.  "Pull
up, lads, a little; let's see what it is.  It doesn't look to me
like a spar."

  The others, always on the lookout for some new object 
of interest, were attracted by these words, and looked closely
at the thing in question.  The men pulled.  The boat drew
nearer.

  "It's some sort of floating vessel," said Oxenden.

  "It's not a spar," said Melick, who was at the bow.

  And as he said this he reached out and grasped at it.  He
failed to get it, and did no more than touch it.  It moved
easily and sank, but soon came up again.  A second time he
grasped at it, and with both hands.  This time he caught it,
and then lifted it out of the water into the boat.  These
proceedings had been watched with the deepest interest; and
now, as this curious floating thing made its appearance
among them, they all crowded around it in eager excitement.

  "It looks like a can of preserved meat," said the doctor.

  "It certainly is a can," said Melick, "for it's made of
metal; but as to preserved meat, I have my doubts."

  The article in question was made of metal and was
cylindrical in shape.  It was soldered tight and evidently
contained something.  It was about eighteen inches long and
eight wide.  The nature of the metal was not easily perceptible, 
for it was coated with slime, and covered over about
half its surface with barnacles and sea-weed.  It was not
heavy, and would have floated higher out of the water had it
not been for these encumbrances.

  "It's some kind of preserved meat," said the doctor.  "Perhaps 
something good--game, I dare say--yes, Yorkshire game-pie.  They
pot all sorts of things now."

  "If it's game," said Oxenden, "it'll be rather high by this
time.  Man alive! look at those weeds and shells.  It must have
been floating for ages."

  "It's my belief," said Featherstone, "that it's part of the
provisions laid in by Noah for his long voyage in the ark.
So come, let's open it, and see what sort of diet the antediluvians
had."

  "It may be liquor," said Oxenden.

  Melick shook his head.

  "No," he said; "there's something inside, but whatever it
is, it isn't liquor.  It's odd, too.  The thing is of foreign make,
evidently.  I never saw anything like it before.  It may be
Chinese."

  "By Jove!" cried Featherstone, "this is getting exciting.
Let's go back to the yacht and open it."

  The men rowed back to the yacht.

  "It's meat of some sort," continued the doctor.  "I'm certain 
of that.  It has come in good time.  We can have it for
dinner."

  "You may have my share, then," said Oxenden.  "I hereby
give and bequeath to you all my right, title, and interest
in and to anything in the shape of meat that may be inside."

  "Meat cans," said Melick, "are never so large as that."

  "Oh, I don't know about that," said the doctor.  "they
make up pretty large packages of pemmican for the arctic
expeditions."

  "But they never pack up pemmican in copper cylinders,"
said Melick, who had been using his knife to scrape off the
crust from the vessel.

  "Copper!" exclaimed Oxenden.  "Is it copper?"

  "Look for yourselves," said Melick, quietly.

  They all looked, and could see, where the knife had cut
into the vessel, that it was as he said.  It was copper.

  "It's foreign work," said Melick.  "In England we make
tin cans for everything.  It may be something that's drifted
out from Mogadore or some port in Morocco."

  "In that case," said Oxenden, "it may contain the mangled 
remains of one of the wives of some Moorish pasha."

  By this time they had reached the yacht and hurried
aboard.  All were eager to satisfy their curiosity.  Search was
made for a cold-chisel, but to no purpose.  Then Featherstone 
produced a knife which was used to open sardine boxes; but after a
faithful trial this proved useless.  At length Melick, who had gone
off in search of something more effective, made his appearance
armed with an axe.  With this he attacked the copper cylinder, and
by means of a few dexterous blows succeeded in cutting it open. 
Then he looked in.

  "What do you see?" asked Featherstone.

  "Something," said Melick, "but I can't quite make it out."

  "If you can't make it out, then shake it out," said Oxenden.

  Upon this Melick took the cylinder, turned it upside
down, shook it smartly, and then lifted it and pounded it
against the deck.  This served to loosen the contents, which
seemed tightly packed, but came gradually down until at
length they could be seen and drawn forth.  Melick drew
them forth, and the contents of the mysterious copper cylinder 
resolved themselves into two packages.

  The sight of these packages only served to intensify their
curiosity.  If it had been some species of food it would at
once have revealed itself, but these packages suggested
something more important.  What could they be?  Were
there treasures inside--jewels, or golden ornaments from
some Moorish seraglio, or strange coin from far Cathay?

  One of the packages was very much larger than the
other.  It was enclosed in wrappers made of some coarse kind
of felt, bound tight with strong cords.  The other was much
smaller, and, was folded in the same material without being
bound.  This Melick seized and began to open.

  "Wait a minute," said Featherstone.  "Let's make a bet on
it.  Five guineas that it's some sort of jewels!"

  "Done," said Oxenden.

  Melick opened the package, and it was seen that Featherstone 
had lost.  There were no jewels, but one or two sheets of 
something that looked like paper.  It was not paper, however, 
but some vegetable product which was used for the same purpose. 
The surface was smooth, but the color was dingy, and the lines 
of the vegetable fibers were plainly discernible.  These sheets
were covered with writing.

  "Halloa!" cried Melick.  "Why, this is English!"

  At this the others crowded around to look on, and
Featherstone in his excitement forgot that he had lost his
bet.  There were three sheets, all covered with writing--one
in English, another in French, and a third in German.  It
was the same message, written in these three different languages. 
But at that moment they scarcely noticed this.  All that they 
saw was the message itself, with its mysterious meaning.

  It was as follows:

  "To the finder of this:
  "SIR,--I am an Englishman, and have been carried by a
  series of incredible events to a land from which escape is as
  impossible as from the grave.  I have written this and committed 
  it to the sea, in the hope that the ocean currents may
  bear it within the reach of civilized man.  Oh, unknown
  friend!  whoever you are.  I entreat you to let this message be
  made known in some way to my father, Henry More, Keswick, 
  Cumberland, England, so that he may learn the fate
  of his son.  The MS.  accompanying this contains an account
  of my adventures, which I should like to have forwarded to
  him.  Do this for the sake of that mercy which you may one
  day wish to have shown to yourself.
  "ADAM MORE."

  "By Jove!" cried Featherstone, as he read the above, "this
is really getting to be something tremendous."

  "This other package must be the manuscript," said Oxenden, 
"and it'll tell all about it."

  "Such a manuscript'll be better than meat," said the
doctor, sententiously.

  Melick said nothing, but, opening his knife, he cut the
cords and unfolded the wrapper.  He saw a great collection
of leaves, just like those of the letter, of some vegetable
substance, smooth as paper, and covered with writing.

  "It looks like Egyptian papyrus," said the doctor.  "That
was the common paper of antiquity."

  "Never mind the Egyptian papyrus," said Featherstone,
in feverish curiosity.  "Let's have the contents of the
manuscript.  You, Melick, read; you're the most energetic
of the lot, and when you're tired the rest of us will take
turns."

  "Read?  Why, it'll take a month to read all this," said Melick.

  "All the better," said Featherstone; "this calm will probably
last a month, and we shall have nothing to interest us."

  Melick made no further objection.  He was as excited as
the rest, and so he began the reading of the manuscript.

  
Chapter II. ADRIFT IN THE ANTARCTIC OCEAN

My Name is Adam More.  I am the son of Henry More,
apothecary, Keswick, Cumberland.  I was mate of the
ship Trevelyan (Bennet, master), which was
chartered by the British Government to convey
convicts to Van Dieman's Land.  This was in 1843. 
We made our voyage without any casualty, landed our
convicts in Hobart Town, and then set forth on our
return home.  It was the 17th of December when we
left.  From the first adverse winds prevailed, and
in order to make any progress we were obliged to
keep well to the south.  At length, on the 6th of
January, we sighted Desolation Island.  We found
it, indeed, a desolate spot.  In its vicinity we
saw a multitude of smaller islands, perhaps a
thousand in number, which made navigation
difficult, and forced us to hurry away as fast as
possible.  But the aspect of this dreary spot was
of itself enough to repel us.  There were no trees,
and the multitude of islands seemed like
moss-covered rocks; while the temperature, though
in the middle of the antarctic summer, was from 38o
to 58o Fahr.

  In order to get rid of these dangerous islands we
stood south and west, and at length found ourselves
in south latitude 65o, longitude 60o east.  We were
fortunate enough not to find any ice, although we
were within fifteen hundred miles of the South
Pole, and far within that impenetrable icy barrier
which, in 1773, had arrested the progress of
Captain Cook.  Here the wind failed us, and we lay
becalmed and drifting.  The sea was open all around
us, except to the southeast, where there was a low
line along the horizon terminating in a lofty
promontory; but though it looked like land we took
it for ice.  All around us whales and grampuses
were gambolling and spouting in vast numbers.  The
weather was remarkably fine and clear.  For two or
three days the calm continued, and we drifted along
helplessly, until at length we found ourselves
within a few miles of the promontory above
mentioned.  It looked like land, and seemed to be a
rocky island rising from the depths of the sea.  It
was, however, all covered with ice and snow, and
from this there extended eastward as far as the eye
could reach an interminable line of ice, but
towards the southwest the sea seemed open to
navigation.  The promontory was very singular in
shape, rising up to a peak which was at least a
thousand feet in height, and forming a striking
object, easily discovered and readily identified by
any future explorer.  We named it, after our ship,
Trevelyan Peak, and then felt anxious to lose sight
of it forever.  But the calm continued, and at
length we drifted in close enough to see immense
flocks of seals dotting the ice at the foot of
the peak.

  Upon this I proposed to Agnew, the second mate,
that we should go ashore, shoot some seals, and
bring them back.  This was partly for the
excitement of the hunt, and partly for the honor of
landing in a place never before trodden by the foot
of man.  Captain Bennet made some objections, but
he was old and cautious, and we were young and
venturesome, so we laughed away his scruples and
set forth.  We did not take any of the crew, owing
to the captain's objections.  He said that if we
chose to throw away our own lives he could not help
it, but that he would positively refuse to allow
a single man to go with us.  We thought this
refusal an excess of caution amounting to positive
cowardice, but were unable to change his mind.  The
distance was not great, the adventure was
attractive, and so the captain's gig was lowered,
and in this Agnew and I rowed ashore.  We took with
us a double-barrelled rifle apiece, and also a
pistol.  Agnew took a glass.

  We rowed for about three miles, and reached the
edge of the ice, which extended far out from the
promontory.  Here we landed, and secured the boat
by means of a small grappling-iron, which we thrust
into the ice.  We then walked towards the
promontory for about a mile, and here we found a
multitude of seals.  These animals were so fearless
that they made not the slightest movement as we
came up, but stared at us in an indifferent way. 
We killed two or three, and then debated whether to
go to the promontory or not.  Agnew was eager to
go, so as to touch the actual rock; but I was
satisfied with what we had done, and was now
desirous of returning.  In the midst of this I felt
a flake of snow on my cheek.  I started and looked
up.  To my great surprise I saw that the sky had
changed since I had last noticed it.  When we left
the ship it was clear and blue, but now it was
overspread with dark, leaden-colored clouds, and
the snow-flakes that had fallen were ominous of
evil.  A snow-storm here, in the vicinity of the
ice, was too serious a thing to be disregarded. 
But one course now remained, and that was an
immediate return to the ship.

  Each of us seized a seal and dragged it after us
to the boat.  We reached it and flung them in. 
Just at that moment a gun sounded over the water. 
It was from the ship--the signal of alarm--the
summons from the captain for our return.  We saw
now that she had been drifting since we left her,
and had moved southwest several miles.  The row
back promised to be far harder than the pull
ashore, and, what was worse, the wind was coming
up, the sea was rising, and the snow was
thickening.  Neither of us said a word.  We saw
that our situation was very serious, and that we
had been very foolhardy; but the words were useless
now.  The only thing to be done was to pull for the
ship with all our strength, and that was what we
did.

  So we pushed off, and rowed as we had never rowed
before.  Our progress was difficult.  The sea grew
steadily rougher; the wind increased; the snow
thickened; and, worst of all, the day was drawing
to a close.  We had miscalculated both as to
distance and time.  Even if it had continued calm
we should have had to row back in the dark; but now
the sun was setting, and with the darkness we had
to encounter the gathering storm and the blinding
snow.  We rowed in silence.  At every stroke our
situation grew more serious.  The wind was from the
south, and therefore favored us to some extent, and
also made less of a sea than would have been
produced by a wind from any other quarter; but then
this south wind brought dangers of its own, which
we were soon to feel--new dangers and worse ones. 
For this south wind drove the ship farther from us,
and at the same time broke up the vast fields of
ice and impelled the fractured masses northward. 
But this was a danger which we did not know just
then.  At that time we were rowing for the ship,
and amid the darkness and the blinding snow and the
dashing waves we heard from time to time the report
of signal-guns fired from the ship to guide us
back.  These were our only guide, for the darkness
and the snow had drawn the ship from our sight, and
we had to be guided by our hearing only. 

  We were rowing for our lives, and we knew it, but
every moment our situation grew more desperate. 
Each new report of the gun seemed to sound farther
away.  We seemed always to be rowing in the wrong
direction.  At each report we had to shift the
boat's course somewhat, and pull towards the last
point from which the gun seemed to sound.  With all
this the wind was increasing rapidly to a gale, the
sea was rising and breaking over the boat, the snow
was blinding us with its ever-thickening sleet. 
The darkness deepened and at length had grown so
intense that nothing whatever could be 
seen--neither sea nor sky, not even the boat 
itself--yet we dared not stop; we had to row.  Our
lives depended on our efforts.  We had to row,
guided by the sound of the ship's gun, which the
ever-varying wind incessantly changed, till our
minds grew all confused, and we rowed blindly and
mechanically.

  So we labored for hours at the oars, and the
storm continually increased, and the sea
continually rose, while the snow fell thicker and
the darkness grew intenser.  The reports of the gun
now grew fainter; what was worse, they were heard
at longer intervals, and this showed us that
Captain Bennet was losing heart; that he was giving
us up; that he despaired of finding us, and was now
firing only an occasional gun out of a mournful
sense of duty.  This thought reduced us to despair. 
It seemed as if all our efforts had only served to
take us farther away from the ship, and deprived
us of all motive for rowing any harder than was
barely necessary to keep the boat steady.  After a
time Agnew dropped his oar and began to bail out
the boat--a work which was needed; for, in spite of
our care, she had shipped many seas, and was one
third full of water.  He worked away at this while
I managed the boat, and then we took turns at
bailing.  In this way we passed the dreary night.

(End of part one)

(Prepared by Laurence Roberts et al.)
(Proofed by Virginia Conn)