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currents.”

“Why, if it were thrown off the coast of England it would be carried away, in the ordinary course of things, and might make the tour of the world.”

“The ocean currents,” said the doctor, “have undoubtedly brought this to us. Of that I shall have more to say presently⁠—but just now, in reference to your notion of a sensation novelist, and an English origin, let me ask your opinion of the material on which it is written. Did you ever see anything like it before? Is it paper?”

“No,” said Melick; “it is evidently some vegetable substance. No doubt the writer has had it prepared for this very purpose, so as to make it look natural.”

“Do you know what it is?” asked the doctor.

“No.”

“Then I’ll tell you; it’s papyrus.”

“Papyrus?”

“Yes, actual papyrus. You can find but little of that in existence at the present day. It is only to be found here and there in museums. I know it perfectly well, however, and saw what it was at the first glance. Now, I hold that a sensation novelist would never have thought of papyrus. If he didn’t wish to use paper, he could have found a dozen other things. I don’t see how he could have found anyone able to prepare such a substance as this for writing. It must have come from a country where it is actually in use. Now, mark you, the papyrus-plant may still be found growing wild on the banks of the upper Nile, and also in Sicily, and it is made use of for ropes and other things of that sort. But as to making writing material out of it, that is hardly possible for the art is lost. The ancient process was very elaborate and this manuscript is written on leaves which resembled in a marvellous manner those of the Egyptian papyrus books. There are two rolls at Marseilles which I have seen and examined, and they are identical with this. Now these papyrus leaves indicate much mechanical skill, and have a professional look. They seem like the work of an experienced manufacturer.”

“I don’t see,” said Melick, obstinately, “why one shouldn’t get papyrus now and have it made up into writing material.”

“Oh, that’s out of the question,” said the doctor. “How could it ever enter into anyone’s head? How could your mere sensation-monger procure the raw material? That of itself would be a work of immense difficulty. How could he get it made up? That would be impossible. But, apart from this, just consider the strong internal evidence that there is as to the authenticity of the manuscript. Now, in the first place, there is the description of Desolation Island, which is perfectly accurate. But it is on his narrative beyond this that I lay chief stress. I can prove that the statements here are corroborated by those of Captain Ross in his account of that great voyage from which he returned not very long ago.”

The doctor, who had been talking with much enthusiasm, paused here to take breath, and then went on:

“I happen to know all about that voyage, for I read a full report of it just before we started, and you can see for yourselves whether this manuscript is credible or not.

“Captain James Clarke Ross was sent forth on his expedition in 1839. On January 1, 1841, he passed the Antarctic Circle in 178° east longitude. On the 11th he discovered land in 70° 41′ south latitude, 172° 36′ east longitude. He found that the land was a continuous coast, trending southward, and rising to peaks of ten thousand feet in height, all covered with ice and snow. On the 12th he landed and took possession in the name of the Queen. After this he continued his course as far as 78° 4′ south latitude, tracing a coastline of six hundred miles. Observe, now how all this coincides with More’s narrative. Well, I now come to the crowning statement. In 77° 32′ south latitude, 167° east longitude, he came in sight of two enormous volcanoes over twelve thousand feet in height. One of these was in an active state of eruption. To this he gave the name of Mount Erebus. The other was quiet; it was of somewhat less height, and he gave it the name of Mount Terror. Mark, now, how wonderfully this resembles More’s account. Well, just here his progress was arrested by a barrier which presented a perpendicular wall of over a hundred and fifty feet in height, along which he coasted for some distance. On the following year he penetrated six miles farther south, namely, 78° 11′ south latitude, 161° 27′ west longitude. At this point he was again stopped by the impassable cliffs, which arose here like an eternal barrier, while beyond them he saw a long line of lofty mountains covered with ice and snow.”

“Did you hear the result of the American expedition?” asked Melick.

“Yes,” replied the doctor. “Wilkes pretends to have found a continent, but his account of it makes it quite evident to my mind that he saw nothing but ice. I believe that Wilkes’s Antarctic continent will some day be penetrated by ships, which will sail for hundreds of miles farther south. All that is wanted is a favorable season. But mark the coincidence between Ross’s report and More’s manuscript. This must have been written at least three years ago, and the writer could not have known anything about Ross’s discoveries. Above all, he could not have thought of those two volcanoes unless he had seen them.”

“But these volcanoes mentioned by More are not the Erebus and Terror, are they?” said Lord Featherstone.

“Of course not; they are on the other side of the world.”

“The whole story,” said Melick, “may have been written by one of Ross’s men and thrown overboard. If I’d been on that expedition I should probably have written it to beguile the time.”

“Oh yes,” said the doctor; “and you would also have manufactured the papyrus and the copper cylinder on

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