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Search of the Castaways
By
Jules Verne
In S=
earch of
the Castaways – or - The Children of Captain Grant - South America
CHAP=
TER II
THE THREE DOCUMENTS
CHAP=
TER III
- THE CAPTAIN'S CHILDREN
CHAP=
TER IV -
LADY GLENARVAN'S PROPOSAL..
CHAP=
TER V -
THE DEPARTURE OF THE "DUNCAN".
CHAP=
TER VI -
AN UNEXPECTED PASSENGER
CHAP=
TER VII
- JACQUES PAGANEL IS UNDECEIVED..
CHAP=
TER VIII
- THE GEOGRAPHER'S RESOLUTION..
CHAP=
TER IX -
THROUGH THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN..
CHAP=
TER X -
THE COURSE DECIDED
CHAP=
TER XI -
TRAVELING IN CHILI
CHAP=
TER XII
- ELEVEN THOUSAND FEET ALOFT..
CHAP=
TER XIII
- A SUDDEN DESCENT
CHAP=
TER XIV
- PROVIDENTIALLY RESCUED
CHAP=
TER XVI
- THE NEWS OF THE LOST CAPTAIN..
CHAP=
TER XVII
- A SERIOUS NECESSITY
CHAP=
TER
XVIII - IN SEARCH OF WATER..
CHAP=
TER XIX
- THE RED WOLVES
CHAP=
TER
XXIII - A SINGULAR ABODE
CHAP=
TER XXIV
- PAGANEL'S DISCLOSURE
CHAP=
TER XXV
- BETWEEN FIRE AND WATER
CHAP=
TER XXVI
- THE RETURN ON BOARD
In S=
earch of
the Castaways - Australia..
CHAP=
TER I -
A NEW DESTINATION
CHAP=
TER II -
TRISTAN D'ACUNHA AND THE ISLE OF AMSTERDAM...
CHAP=
TER III
- CAPE TOWN AND M. VIOT
CHAP=
TER IV -
A WAGER AND HOW DECIDED
CHAP=
TER V -
THE STORM ON THE INDIAN OCEAN..
CHAP=
TER VI -
A HOSPITABLE COLONIST
CHAP=
TER VII
- THE QUARTERMASTER OF THE "BRITANNIA".
CHAP=
TER VIII
- PREPARATION FOR THE JOURNEY..
CHAP=
TER IX -
A COUNTRY OF PARADOXES
CHAP=
TER XI -
CRIME OR CALAMITY
CHAP=
TER XII
- TOLINE OF THE LACHLAN
CHAP=
TER XIV
- WEALTH IN THE WILDERNESS..
CHAP=
TER XV -
SUSPICIOUS OCCURRENCES
CHAP=
TER XVI
- A STARTLING DISCOVERY
CHAP=
TER XVII
- THE PLOT UNVEILED
CHAP=
TER
XVIII - FOUR DAYS OF ANGUISH..
CHAP=
TER XIX
- HELPLESS AND HOPELESS
In S=
earch of
the Castaways - New Zealand..
CHAP=
TER II -
NAVIGATORS AND THEIR DISCOVERIES..
CHAP=
TER III
- THE MARTYR-ROLL OF NAVIGATORS..
CHAP=
TER IV -
THE WRECK OF THE "MACQUARIE".
CHAP=
TER VI -
A DREADED COUNTRY
CHAP=
TER VIII
- ON THE ROAD TO AUCKLAND..
CHAP=
TER IX -
INTRODUCTION TO THE CANNIBALS..
CHAP=
TER X -
A MOMENTOUS INTERVIEW
CHAP=
TER XI -
THE CHIEF'S FUNERAL
CHAP=
TER XII
- STRANGELY LIBERATED
CHAP=
TER XIII
- THE SACRED MOUNTAIN
CHAP=
TER XIV
- A BOLD STRATAGEM
CHAP=
TER XV -
FROM PERIL TO SAFETY
CHAP=
TER XVI
- WHY THE "DUNCAN" WENT TO NEW ZEALAND..
CHAP=
TER XVII
- AYRTON'S OBSTINACY
CHAP=
TER
XVIII - A DISCOURAGING CONFESSION..
CHAP=
TER XIX
- A CRY IN THE NIGHT
CHAP=
TER XX -
CAPTAIN GRANT'S STORY
CHAP=
TER XXI
- PAGANEL'S LAST ENTANGLEMENT..
ON the 26th of July, 1864, a magnificent y=
acht
was steaming
along the
breeze blowing from the N. E. The Union Ja=
ck
was flying
at the mizzen-mast, and a blue standard
bearing the initials
E. G., embroidered in gold, and surmounted=
by
a ducal coronet,
floated from the topgallant head of the
main-mast. The name
of the yacht was the
one of the sixteen Scotch peers who sit in=
the
Upper House,
and the most distinguished member of the R=
oyal
Thames Yacht Club,
so famous throughout the
Lord Edward Glenarvan was on board with his
young wife, Lady Helena,
and one of his cousins, Major McNabbs.
The
miles outside the Firth of Clyde. She was returning to
and the Isle of Arran already loomed in the
distance, when the sailor on
watch caught sight of an enormous fish
sporting in the wake of the ship.
Lord Edward, who was immediately apprised =
of
the fact, came up on
the poop a few minutes after with his cous=
in,
and asked John Mangles,
the captain, what sort of an animal he tho=
ught
it was.
"Well, since your Lordship asks my
opinion," said Mangles, "I think
it is a shark, and a fine large one too.&q=
uot;
"A shark on these shores!"
"There is nothing at all improbable in
that," returned the captain.
"This fish belongs to a species that =
is
found in all latitudes
and in all seas. It is the 'balance-fish,' or
hammer-headed shark,
if I am not much mistaken. But if your Lordship has no object=
ions,
and it would give the smallest pleasure to
Lady Helena to see
a novelty in the way of fishing, we'll soon
haul up the monster
and find out what it really is."
"What do you say, McNabbs? Shall we try to catch it?"
asked Lord Glenarvan.
"If you like; it's all one to me,&quo=
t;
was his cousin's cool reply.
"The more of those terrible creatures
that are killed the better,
at all events," said John Mangles,
"so let's seize the chance,
and it will not only give us a little
diversion, but be doing
a good action."
"Very well, set to work, then," =
said
Glenarvan.
Lady Helena soon joined her husband on dec=
k,
quite charmed at the prospect
of such exciting sport. The sea was splendid, and every mo=
vement
of
the shark was distinctly visible. In obedience to the captain's orde=
rs,
the sailors threw a strong rope over the
starboard side of the yacht,
with a big hook at the end of it, conceale=
d in
a thick lump of bacon.
The bait took at once, though the shark was
full fifty yards distant.
He began to make rapidly for the yacht,
beating the waves violently
with his fins, and keeping his tail in a
perfectly straight line.
As he got nearer, his great projecting eyes
could be seen inflamed
with greed, and his gaping jaws with their
quadruple row of teeth.
His head was large, and shaped like a doub=
le
hammer at the end of
a handle.=
John Mangles was right. This
was evidently a balance-fish--
the most voracious of all the SQUALIDAE
species.
The passengers and sailors on the yacht we=
re
watching
all the animal's movements with the liveli=
est
interest.
He soon came within reach of the bait, tur=
ned
over on his back
to make a good dart at it, and in a second
bacon and contents
had disappeared. He had hooked himself now, as the
tremendous
jerk he gave the cable proved, and the sai=
lors
began to haul
in the monster by means of tackle attached=
to
the mainyard.
He struggled desperately, but his captors =
were
prepared
for his violence, and had a long rope ready
with a slip knot,
which caught his tail and rendered him
powerless at once.
In a few minutes more he was hoisted up ov=
er
the side of the yacht
and thrown on the deck. A man came forward immediately,
hatchet in hand, and approaching him
cautiously, with one powerful
stroke cut off his tail.
This ended the business, for there was no
longer any fear of the shark.
But, though the sailors' vengeance was sat=
isfied,
their curiosity
was not; they knew the brute had no very
delicate appetite,
and the contents of his stomach might be w=
orth
investigation.
This is the common practice on all ships w=
hen
a shark is captured, but
Lady Glenarvan declined to be present at s=
uch
a disgusting exploration,
and withdrew to the cabin again. The fish was still breathing;
it measured ten feet in length, and weighed
more than six hundred pounds.
This was nothing extraordinary, for though=
the
hammer-headed shark
is not classed among the most gigantic of =
the
species, it is always
reckoned among the most formidable.
The huge brute was soon ripped up in a very
unceremonious fashion.
The hook had fixed right in the stomach, w=
hich
was found to be
absolutely empty, and the disappointed sai=
lors
were just going to throw
the remains overboard, when the boatswain's
attention was attracted
by some large object sticking fast in one =
of
the viscera.
"I say! what's this?" he exclaim=
ed.
"That!" replied one of the sailo=
rs,
"why, it's a piece of rock
the beast swallowed by way of ballast.&quo=
t;
"It's just a bottle, neither more nor
less, that the fellow has got
in his inside, and couldn't digest," =
said
another of the crew.
"Hold your tongues, all of you!"
said Tom Austin, the mate
of the
an inveterate tippler that he has not only
drunk the wine,
but swallowed the bottle?"
"What!" said Lord Glenarvan. "Do you mean to say it is a b=
ottle
that the shark has got in his stomach.&quo=
t;
"Ay, it is a bottle, most certainly,&=
quot;
replied the boatswain,
"but not just from the cellar."<= o:p>
"Well, Tom, be careful how you take it
out," said Lord Glenarvan,
"for bottles found in the sea often
contain precious documents."
"Do you think this does?" said M=
ajor
McNabbs, incredulously.
"It possibly may, at any rate."<= o:p>
"Oh!=
I'm not saying it doesn't. There may perhaps be some secret in it,&q=
uot;
returned the Major.
"That's just what we're to see,"
said his cousin. "Well,
Tom."
"Here it is," said the mate, hol=
ding
up a shapeless lump he had managed
to pull out, though with some difficulty.<= o:p>
"Get the filthy thing washed then, and
bring it to the cabin."
Tom obeyed, and in a few minutes brought in
the bottle and laid it
on the table, at which Lord Glenarvan and =
the
Major were sitting ready
with the captain, and, of course Lady Hele=
na,
for women, they say,
are always a little curious. Everything is an event at sea.
For a moment they all sat silent, gazing at
this frail relic,
wondering if it told the tale of sad disas=
ter,
or brought some
trifling message from a frolic-loving sail=
or,
who had flung it
into the sea to amuse himself when he had
nothing better to do.
However, the only way to know was to exami=
ne
the bottle,
and Glenarvan set to work without further
delay, so carefully
and minutely, that he might have been taken
for a coroner
making an inquest.
He commenced by a close inspection of the
outside.
The neck was long and slender, and round t=
he
thick rim there
was still an end of wire hanging, though e=
aten
away with rust.
The sides were very thick, and strong enou=
gh
to bear great pressure.
It was evidently of
"That's one of our Clicquot's
bottles."
Nobody contradicted him, as he was suppose=
d to
know;
but Lady Helena exclaimed, "What does=
it
matter about the bottle,
if we don't know where it comes from?"=
;
"We shall know that, too, presently, =
and
we may affirm this much already--
it comes from a long way off. Look at those petrifactions all ov=
er it,
these different substances almost turned to
mineral, we might say,
through the action of the salt water! This waif had been tossing
about in the ocean a long time before the
shark swallowed it."
"I quite agree with you," said
McNabbs. "I dare say this
frail concern
has made a long voyage, protected by this
strong covering."
"But I want to know where from?"
said Lady Glenarvan.
"Wait a little, dear
but if I am not much mistaken, this one wi=
ll
answer all our questions,"
replied her husband, beginning to scrape a=
way
the hard substances
round the neck. Soon the cork made its appearance,=
but
much damaged
by the water.
"That's vexing," said Lord Edwar=
d,
"for if papers are inside,
they'll be in a pretty state!"
"It's to be feared they will," s=
aid the
Major.
"But it is a lucky thing the shark
swallowed them, I must say,"
added Glenarvan, "for the bottle would
have sunk to the bottom
before long with such a cork as this."=
;
"That's true enough," replied Jo=
hn
Mangles, "and yet it would
have been better to have fished them up in=
the
open sea.
Then we might have found out the road they=
had
come by taking
the exact latitude and longitude, and stud=
ying
the atmospheric
and submarine currents; but with such a
postman as a shark,
that goes against wind and tide, there's no
clew whatever
to the starting-point."
"We shall see," said Glenarvan,
gently taking out the cork.
A strong odor of salt water pervaded the w=
hole
saloon,
and Lady Helena asked impatiently: "Well, what is there?"
"I was right!" exclaimed Glenarv=
an. "I see papers inside.
But I fear it will be impossible to remove
them," he added,
"for they appear to have rotted with =
the
damp, and are sticking
to the sides of the bottle."
"Break it," said the Major.
"I would rather preserve the whole if=
I could."
"No doubt you would," said Lady
Helena; "but the contents
are more valuable than the bottle, and we =
had
better sacrifice
the one than the other."
"If your Lordship would simply break =
off
the neck, I think we
might easily withdraw the papers," su=
ggested
John Mangles.
"Try it, Edward, try it," said L=
ady
Helena.
Lord Glenarvan was very unwilling, but he
found there
was no alternative; the precious bottle mu=
st
be broken.
They had to get a hammer before this could=
be
done, though,
for the stony material had acquired the
hardness of granite.
A few sharp strokes, however, soon shivere=
d it
to fragments,
many of which had pieces of paper sticking=
to
them.
These were carefully removed by Lord
Glenarvan, and separated
and spread out on the table before the eag=
er
gaze of his
wife and friends.
ALL that could be discovered, however, on
these pieces of paper
was a few words here and there, the remain=
der
of the lines being
almost completely obliterated by the actio=
n of
the water.
Lord Glenarvan examined them attentively f=
or a
few minutes,
turning them over on all sides, holding th=
em
up to the light,
and trying to decipher the least scrap of
writing,
while the others looked on with anxious
eyes. At last he said:
"There are three distinct documents h=
ere,
apparently copies
of the same document in three different
languages.
Here is one in English, one in French, and=
one
in German."
"But can you make any sense out of
them?" asked Lady Helena.
"That's hard to say, my dear
"Perhaps the one may supplement the
other," suggested Major McNabbs.
"Very likely they will," said the
captain. "It is impossib=
le
that the very same words should have been
effaced in each document,
and by putting the scraps together we might
gather some intelligible
meaning out of them."
"That's what we will do," rejoin=
ed
Lord Glenarvan; "but let us
proceed methodically. Here is the English document
first."
All that remained of it was the following:=
62 =
Bri =
gow
sink=
=
&nb=
sp;
stra
=
aland
=
skipp Gr
=
&nb=
sp;
that monit of long
and<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> =
&nb=
sp;
ssistance
=
lost
"There's not much to be made out of
that," said the Major,
looking disappointed.
"No, but it is good English anyhow,&q=
uot;
returned the captain.
"There's no doubt of it," said
Glenarvan. "The words SI=
NK,
ALAND,
LOST are entire; SKIPP is evidently part of
the word SKIPPER, and that's
what they call ship captains often in
mentioned, and that most likely is the cap=
tain
of the shipwrecked vessel."
"Well, come, we have made out a good =
deal
already," said Lady Helena.
"Yes, but unfortunately there are who=
le
lines wanting,"
said the Major, "and we have neither =
the
name of the ship nor
the place where she was shipwrecked."=
"We'll get that by and by," said
Edward.
"Oh, yes; there is no doubt of it,&qu=
ot;
replied the Major, who always
echoed his neighbor's opinion. "But how?"
"By comparing one document with the
other."
"Let us try them," said his wife=
.
The second piece of paper was even more
destroyed than the first;
only a few scattered words remained here a=
nd
there.
It ran as follows:
=
7 Juni =
Glas
=
&nb=
sp;
zwei &=
nbsp;
atrosen
=
&nb=
sp; =
graus
=
&nb=
sp; =
bringt ihnen
"This is written in German," said
John Mangles the moment
he looked at it.
"And you understand that language, do=
n't
you?" asked Lord Glenarvan.
"Perfectly."
"Come, then, tell us the meaning of t=
hese
words."
The captain examined the document carefull=
y,
and said:
"Well, here's the date of the occurre=
nce
first: 7 Juni means June 7;
and if we put that before the figures 62 we
have in the other document,
it gives us the exact date, 7th of June,
1862."
"Capital!" exclaimed Lady
Helena. "Go on, John!&qu=
ot;
"On the same line," resumed the
young captain, "there is
the syllable GLAS and if we add that to the
GOW we found
in the English paper, we get the whole wor=
d
The documents evidently refer to some ship
that sailed out of
the "That is my opinion, too,&quo=
t;
said the Major.
"The second line is completely efface=
d,"
continued the Captain;
"but here are two important words on =
the
third. There is ZWEI,
which means TWO, and ATROSEN or MATROSEN, =
the
German for SAILORS."
"Then I suppose it is about a captain=
and
two sailors,"
said Lady Helena.
"It seems so," replied Lord
Glenarvan.
"I must confess, your Lordship, that =
the
next word puzzles me.
I can make nothing of it. Perhaps the third document may thr=
ow
some light on it. The last two words are plain enoug=
h.
BRINGT IHNEN means BRING THEM; and, if you
recollect, in the
English paper we had SSISTANCE, so by putt=
ing
the parts together,
it reads thus, I think: 'BRING THEM ASSISTANCE.'"
"Yes, that must be it," replied =
Lord
Glenarvan. "But where
are the poor fellows? We have not the slightest indicati=
on
of the place, meantime, nor of where the
catastrophe happened."
"Perhaps the French copy will be more
explicit," suggested Lady Helena.
"Here it is, then," said Lord
Glenarvan, "and that is in a language
we all know."
The words it contained were these:
=
troi
ats =
tannia
=
&nb=
sp;
gonie =
austral
=
&nb=
sp; =
abor
contin =
pr &nb=
sp;
cruel indi
=
jete =
&nb=
sp;
ongit
et 37 degrees
11" =
LAT
"There are figures!" exclaimed L=
ady
Helena. "Look!"
"Let us go steadily to work," sa=
id
Lord Glenarvan, "and begin
at the beginning. I think we can make out from the
incomplete
words in the first line that a three-mast
vessel is in question,
and there is little doubt about the name; =
we
get that from the fragments
of the other papers; it is the BRITANNIA.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> As to the next two words,
GONIE and AUSTRAL, it is only AUSTRAL that=
has
any meaning to us."
"But that is a valuable scrap of
information," said John Mangles.
"The shipwreck occurred in the southe=
rn
hemisphere."
"That's a wide world," said the
Major.
"Well, we'll go on," resumed
Glenarvan. "Here is the =
word
ABOR; that is
clearly the root of the verb ABORDER. The poor men have landed somewhere=
;
but where? CONTIN--does that mean continent?<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> CRUEL!"
"CRUEL!" interrupted John
Mangles. "I see now what=
GRAUS
is part of in the second document. It is GRAUSAM, the word
in German for CRUEL!"
"Let's go on," said Lord Glenarv=
an,
becoming quite excited over his task,
as the incomplete words began to fill up a=
nd
develop their meaning.
"INDI,--is it
And what can this word ONGIT be part of? Ah!
I see--it is LONGITUDE;
and here is the latitude, 37 degrees 11&qu=
ot;.
That is the precise
indication at last, then!"
"But we haven't the longitude,"
objected McNabbs.
"But we can't get everything, my dear
Major; and it
is something at all events, to have the ex=
act
latitude.
The French document is decidedly the most
complete of the three;
but it is plain enough that each is the
literal translation of
the other, for they all contain exactly the
same number of lines.
What we have to do now is to put together =
all
the words we
have found, and translate them into one
language, and try
to ascertain their most probable and logic=
al
sense."
"Well, what language shall we
choose?" asked the Major.
"I think we had better keep to the
French, since that was the most
complete document of the three."
"Your Lordship is right," said J=
ohn
Mangles, "and besides,
we're all familiar with the language."=
;
"Very well, then, I'll set to work.&q=
uot;
In a few minutes he had written as follows=
:
7
Juin 1862 trois-mats Britannia Glasgow
sombre =
gonie
austr=
al
=
a terre =
deux matelots
capitaine Gr =
&nb=
sp;
abor
contin
pr =
cruel =
indi
=
jete ce document =
de longitude
et
37 degrees 11" de latitude
Portez-leur secours
=
&nb=
sp;
perdus.
[7th of June, 1862
three-mast BRITANNIA Glasgow]
foundered =
gonie =
southern
on the coast =
two sailors =
Gr
Captain =
lande=
d
contin =
pr =
cruel indi
=
thrown this document
in longitude
and 37 degrees 11" latitude =
Bring them assistance
=
lost
Just at that moment one of the sailors cam=
e to
inform the captain
that they were about entering the Firth of
Clyde, and to ask
what were his orders.
"What are your Lordship's
intentions?" said John Mangles,
addressing Lord Glenarvan.
"To get to Dunbarton as quickly as
possible, John; and Lady Helena
will return to Malcolm Castle, while I go =
on
to
document before the Admiralty."
The sailor received orders accordingly, and
went out to deliver
them to the mate.
"Now, friends," said Lord Glenar=
van,
"let us go on with
our investigations, for we are on the trac=
k of
a great catastrophe,
and the lives of several human beings depe=
nd
on our sagacity.
We must give our whole minds to the soluti=
on
of this enigma."
"First of all, there are three very
distinct things to be considered
in this document--the things we know, the
things we may conjecture,
the things we do not know."
"What are those we know? We know that on the 7th of June
a three-mast vessel, the BRITANNIA of Glas=
gow,
foundered; that two
sailors and the captain threw this document
into the sea in 37
degrees 11" latitude, and they entreat
help."
"Exactly so," said the Major.
"What are those now we may
conjecture?" continued Glenarvan.&nbs=
p;
"That the
shipwreck occurred in the southern seas; a=
nd
here I would draw your
attention at once to the incomplete word
GONIE. Doesn't the name
of the country strike you even in the mere
mention of it?"
"
"Undoubtedly."
"But is
"That is easily ascertained," sa=
id
the captain, opening a map of
It cuts through Araucania, goes along over=
the
and loses itself in the
"Well, let us proceed then with our conjectures. The two sailors<= o:p>
and the captain LAND--land where? CONTIN--on a continent;
on a continent, mark you, not an island. What becomes of them?
There are two letters here providentially
which give a clew
to their fate--PR, that must mean prisoner=
s,
and CRUEL INDIAN
is evidently the meaning of the next two
words. These unfortunate
men are captives in the hands of cruel
Indians. Don't you see it?
Don't the words seem to come of themselves,
and fill up the blanks?
Isn't the document quite clear now? Isn't the sense self-evident?"=
;
Glenarvan spoke in a tone of absolute
conviction, and his
enthusiastic confidence appeared contagiou=
s,
for the others
all exclaimed, too, "Yes, it is evide=
nt,
quite evident!"
After an instant, Lord Edward said again,
"To my own mind the hypothesis
is so plausible, that I have no doubt what=
ever
the event occurred on
the coast of Patagonia, but still I will h=
ave
inquiries made in
as to the destination of the BRITANNIA, an=
d we
shall know if it is
possible she could have been wrecked on th=
ose
shores."
"Oh, there's no need to send so far to
find out that,"
said John Mangles. "I have the Mercantile and
Shipping Gazette here, and we'll see the n=
ame
on the list,
and all about it."
"Do look at once, then," said Lo=
rd
Glenarvan.
The file of papers for the year 1862 was s=
oon
brought,
and John began to turn over the leaves
rapidly, running down
each page with his eye in search of the na=
me
required.
But his quest was not long, for in a few
minutes he called out:
"I've got it! 'May 30, 1862, Peru-Callao, with c=
argo
for
the BRITANNIA, Captain Grant.'"
"Grant!" exclaimed Lord
Glenarvan. "That is the
adventurous
Scotchman that attempted to found a new
of the Pacific."
"Yes," rejoined John Mangles,
"it is the very man.
He sailed from
been heard of since."
"There isn't a doubt of it, not a sha=
dow
of doubt," repeated
Lord Glenarvan. "It is just that same Captain
Grant. The BRITANNIA left
she is lost on the coast of
words we find in these documents tell us t=
he
whole story.
You see, friends, our conjectures hit the =
mark
very well;
we know all now except one thing, and that=
is
the longitude."
"That is not needed now, we know the
country. With the latitude al=
one,
I would engage to go right to the place wh=
ere
the wreck happened."
"Then have we really all the particul=
ars
now?" asked Lady Helena.
"All, dear
the sea has made in the document as easily=
as
if Captain Grant
were dictating to me."
And he took up the pen, and dashed off the
following lines immediately:
"On the 7th of June, 1862, the three-=
mast
vessel, BRITANNIA, of
has sunk on the coast of
Making for the shore, two sailors and Capt=
ain
Grant are about
to land on the continent, where they will =
be
taken prisoners
by cruel Indians. They have thrown this document int=
o the
sea,
in longitude and latitude 37 degrees 11&qu=
ot;.
Bring them assistance,
or they are lost."
"Capital! capital! dear Edward,"
said Lady Helena. "If th=
ose
poor
creatures ever see their native land again=
, it
is you they will have
to thank for it."
"And they will see it again,"
returned Lord Glenarvan; "the statement
is too explicit, and clear, and certain fo=
r
about going to the aid of her three sons c=
ast
away on a desert coast.
What she has done for Franklin and so many
others, she will do to-day
for these poor shipwrecked fellows of the
BRITANNIA."
"Most likely the unfortunate men have
families who mourn their loss.
Perhaps this ill-fated Captain Grant had a
wife and children,"
suggested Lady Helena.
"Very true, my dear, and I'll not for=
get
to let them know that there
is still hope. But now, friends, we had better go=
up on
deck,
as the boat must be getting near the
harbor."
A carriage and post-horses waited there, in
readiness
to convey Lady Helena and Major McNabbs to
Malcolm Castle,
and Lord Glenarvan bade adieu to his young
wife, and jumped
into the express train for
But before starting he confided an importa=
nt
missive to a
swifter agent than himself, and a few minu=
tes
afterward it
flashed along the electric wire to
in the Times and Morning Chronicle in the
following words:
"For information respecting the fate =
of
the three-mast
vessel BRITANNIA, of Glasgow, Captain Gran=
t,
apply to
Lord Glenarvan, Malcolm Castle, Luss,
LORD GLENARVAN'S fortune was enormous, and=
he
spent it entirely in
doing good. His kindheartedness was even great=
er
than his generosity,
for the one knew no bounds, while the othe=
r,
of necessity,
had its limits. As Lord of Luss and "laird&qu=
ot; of
Malcolm, he represented
his county in the House of Lords; but, with
his Jacobite ideas,
he did not care much for the favor of the
House of Hanover,
and he was looked upon coldly by the State
party in
because of the tenacity with which he clun=
g to
the traditions
of his forefathers, and his energetic
resistance to the political
encroachments of Southerners. And yet he was not a man behind
the times, and there was nothing little or
narrow-minded about him;
but while always keeping open his ancestral
county to progress,
he was a true Scotchman at heart, and it w=
as
for the honor of
that he competed in the yacht races of the
Royal Thames Yacht Club.
Edward Glenarvan was thirty-two years of
age. He was tall in person,
and had rather stern features; but there w=
as
an exceeding sweetness
in his look, and a stamp of
He was known to be brave to excess, and fu=
ll
of daring and chivalry--
a Fer-gus of the nineteenth century; but h=
is
goodness excelled every
other quality, and he was more charitable =
than
would have given the whole of his cloak to=
any
of the poor Highlanders.
He had scarcely been married three months,=
and
his bride
was Miss Helena Tuffnell, the daughter of
William Tuffnell,
the great traveler, one of the many victim=
s of
geographical
science and of the passion for discovery.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Miss Helena did
not belong to a noble family, but she was
Scotch, and that
was better than all nobility in the eyes of
Lord Glenarvan;
and she was, moreover, a charming,
high-souled, religious young woman.
Lord Glenarvan did not forget that his wife
was the daughter of a
great traveler, and he thought it likely t=
hat
she would inherit
her father's predilections. He had the
he might take his bride to the most beauti=
ful
lands in the world,
and complete their honeymoon by sailing up=
the
and through the clustering islands of the
Archipelago.
However, Lord Glenarvan had gone now to =
shipwrecked men were at stake, and Lady He=
lena
was too much concerned
herself about them to grudge her husband's
temporary absence.
A telegram next day gave hope of his speedy
return, but in the evening
a letter apprised her of the difficulties =
his
proposition had met with,
and the morning after brought another, in
which he openly expressed
his dissatisfaction with the Admiralty.
Lady Helena began to get anxious as the day
wore on.
In the evening, when she was sitting alone=
in
her room, Mr. Halbert,
the house steward, came in and asked if she
would see a young
girl and boy that wanted to speak to Lord
Glenarvan.
"Some of the country people?" as=
ked
Lady Helena.
"No, madame," replied the stewar=
d,
"I do not know them at all.
They came by rail to Balloch, and walked t=
he
rest of the way to Luss."
"Tell them to come up, Halbert."=
In a few minutes a girl and boy were shown
in. They were evidently
brother and sister, for the resemblance was
unmistakable.
The girl was about sixteen years of age; h=
er
tired pretty face,
and sorrowful eyes, and resigned but
courageous look, as well
as her neat though poor attire, made a
favorable impression.
The boy she held by the hand was about twe=
lve,
but his face expressed
such determination, that he appeared quite=
his
sister's protector.
The girl seemed too shy to utter a word at
first, but Lady Helena quickly
relieved her embarrassment by saying, with=
an
encouraging smile:
"You wish to speak to me, I think?&qu=
ot;
"No," replied the boy, in a deci=
ded
tone; "not to you,
but to Lord Glenarvan."
"Excuse him, ma'am," said the gi=
rl,
with a look at her brother.
"Lord Glenarvan is not at the castle =
just
now," returned Lady Helena;
"but I am his wife, and if I can do
anything for you--"
"You are Lady Glenarvan?" interr=
upted
the girl.
"I am."
"The wife of Lord Glenarvan, of Malco=
lm
Castle, that put an announcement
in the TIMES about the shipwreck of the
BRITANNIA?"
"Yes, yes," said Lady Helena,
eagerly; "and you?"
"I am Miss Grant, ma'am, and this is =
my
brother."
"Miss Grant, Miss Grant!" exclai=
med
Lady Helena, drawing the young girl
toward her, and taking both her hands and
kissing the boy's rosy cheeks.
"What is it you know, ma'am, about the
shipwreck? Tell me,
is my father living? Shall we ever see him again? Oh, tell me,"
said the girl, earnestly.
"My dear child," replied Lady
Helena. "Heaven forbid t=
hat I
should answer you lightly such a question;=
I
would not delude
you with vain hopes."
"Oh, tell me all, tell me all, ma'am.=
I'm
proof against sorrow.
I can bear to hear anything."
"My poor child, there is but a faint
hope; but with the help
of almighty Heaven it is just possible you=
may
one day see
your father once more."
The girl burst into tears, and Robert seiz=
ed
Lady Glenarvan's
hand and covered it with kisses.
As soon as they grew calmer they asked a
complete string of questions,
and Lady Helena recounted the whole story =
of
the document,
telling them that their father had been
wrecked on the coast
of
appeared to have reached the shore, and had
written an appeal
for help in three languages and committed =
it
to the care
of the waves.
During the recital, Robert Grant was devou=
ring
the speaker
with his eyes, and hanging on her lips.
evidently retraced all the scenes of his
father's shipwreck.
He saw him on the deck of the BRITANNIA, a=
nd
then struggling
with the billows, then clinging to the roc=
ks,
and lying at length
exhausted on the beach.
More than once he cried out, "Oh, pap=
a!
my poor papa!"
and pressed close to his sister.
Miss Grant sat silent and motionless, with
clasped hands,
and all she said when the narration ended,
was: "Oh, ma'am,
the paper, please!"
"I have not it now, my dear child,&qu=
ot;
replied Lady Helena.
"You haven't it?"
"No. Lord Glenarvan was obliged to ta=
ke
it to
of your father; but I have told you all it
contained, word for word,
and how we managed to make out the complete
sense from the fragments
of words left--all except the longitude,
unfortunately."
"We can do without that," said t=
he
boy.
"Yes, Mr. Robert," rejoined Lady
Helena, smiling at the child's
decided tone. "And so you see, Miss Grant, =
you
know the smallest
details now just as well as I do."
"Yes, ma'am, but I should like to have
seen my father's writing."
"Well, to-morrow, perhaps, to-morrow,
Lord Glenarvan will be back.
My husband determined to lay the document
before the Lords
of the Admiralty, to induce them to send o=
ut a
ship immediately
in search of Captain Grant."
"Is it possible, ma'am," exclaim=
ed
the girl, "that you have done
that for us?"
"Yes, my dear Miss Grant, and I am
expecting Lord Glenarvan back
every minute now."
"Oh, ma'am! Heaven bless you and Lord
Glenarvan," said the young girl,
fervently, overcome with grateful
emotion."
"My dear girl, we deserve no thanks;
anyone in our place would
have done the same. I only trust the hopes we are lead=
ing
you
to entertain may be realized, but till my
husband returns,
you will remain at the Castle."
"Oh, no, ma'am. I could not abuse the
sympathy you show to strangers."
"Strangers, dear child!" interru=
pted
Lady Helena; "you and your brother
are not strangers in this house, and I sho=
uld
like Lord Glenarvan
to be able on his arrival to tell the chil=
dren
of Captain Grant himself,
what is going to be done to rescue their
father."
It was impossible to refuse an invitation
given with such heart,
and Miss Grant and her brother consented to
stay till
Lord Glenarvan returned.
LADY HELENA thought it best to say nothing=
to
the children
about the fears Lord Glenarvan had express=
ed
in his letters
respecting the decisions of the Lords of t=
he
Admiralty with regard
to the document. Nor did she mention the probable
captivity
of Captain Grant among the Indians of
the poor children, and damp their newly
cherished hopes?
It would not in the least alter the actual
state of the case;
so not a word was said, and after answering
all Miss Grant's questions,
Lady Helena began to interrogate in her tu=
rn,
asking her about
her past life and her present circumstance=
s.
It was a touching, simple story she heard =
in
reply, and one
which increased her sympathy for the young
girl.
Mary and Robert were the captain's only
children. Harry Grant
lost his wife when Robert was born, and du=
ring
his long voyages
he left his little ones in charge of his
cousin, a good old lady.
Captain Grant was a fearless sailor. He not only thoroughly
understood navigation, but commerce also--a
two-fold qualification
eminently useful to skippers in the mercha=
nt
service.
He lived in Dundee, in
of St. Katrine's Church, had given him a
thorough education,
as he believed that could never hurt anybo=
dy.
Harry's voyages were prosperous from the
first, and a few years after
Robert was born, he found himself possesse=
d of
a considerable fortune.
It was then that he projected the grand sc=
heme
which made him popular
in
he had no heart for the union with
of his country were not identified with th=
ose
of the Anglo-Saxons,
and to give scope for personal development=
, he
resolved to found
an immense Scotch colony on one of the oce=
an
continents.
Possibly he might have thought that some d=
ay
they would achieve
their independence, as the
to be followed eventually by
might be his secret motives, such was his
dream of colonization.
But, as is easily understood, the Governme=
nt
opposed his plans,
and put difficulties enough in his way to =
have
killed an ordinary man.
But Harry would not be beaten. He appealed to the patriotism
of his countrymen, placed his fortune at t=
he
service of the cause,
built a ship, and manned it with a picked
crew, and leaving his
children to the care of his old cousin set=
off
to explore the great
islands of the Pacific. This was in 1861, and for twelve m=
onths,
or up to May, 1862, letters were regularly
received from him, but no
tidings whatever had come since his depart=
ure
from
and the name of the BRITANNIA never appear=
ed
in the Shipping List.
Just at this juncture the old cousin died,=
and
Harry Grant's
two children were left alone in the world.=
Mary Grant was then only fourteen, but she
resolved to face
her situation bravely, and to devote herse=
lf
entirely
to her little brother, who was still a mere
child.
By dint of close economy, combined with ta=
ct
and prudence,
she managed to support and educate him,
working day and night,
denying herself everything, that she might
give him all he needed,
watching over him and caring for him like a
mother.
The two children were living in this touch=
ing
manner in
struggling patiently and courageously with
their poverty.
Mary thought only of her brother, and indu=
lged
in dreams of a
prosperous future for him. She had long given up all hope of<= o:p>
the BRITANNIA, and was fully persuaded that
her father was dead.
What, then, was her emotion when she
accidentally saw the notice
in the TIMES!
She never hesitated for an instant as to t=
he
course she
should adopt, but determined to go to
Dumbartonshire immediately,
to learn the best and worst. Even if she were to be told that
her father's lifeless body had been found =
on a
distant shore,
or in the bottom of some abandoned ship, it
would be a relief
from incessant doubt and torturing suspens=
e.
She told her brother about the advertiseme=
nt,
and the two children
started off together that same day for
and arrived in the evening at Malcolm Cast=
le.
Such was Mary Grant's sorrowful story, and=
she
recounted it in so simple
and unaffected a manner, that it was evide=
nt
she never thought her
conduct had been that of a heroine through
those long trying years.
But Lady Helena thought it for her, and mo=
re
than once she put her arms
round both the children, and could not
restrain her tears.
As for Robert, he seemed to have heard the=
se
particulars
for the first time. All the while his sister was speak=
ing,
he gazed at her with wide-open eyes, only
knowing now how
much she had done and suffered for him; an=
d,
as she ended,
he flung himself on her neck, and exclaime=
d,
"Oh, mamma!
My dear little mamma!"
It was quite dark by this time, and Lady
Helena made the children
go to bed, for she knew they must be tired
after their journey.
They were soon both sound asleep, dreaming=
of
happy days.
After they had retired. Lady Helena sent for Major McNabbs=
,
and told him the incidents of the evening.=
"That Mary Grant must be a brave
girl," said the Major.
"I only hope my husband will succeed,=
for
the poor children's sake,"
said his cousin. "It would be terrible for the=
m if
he did not."
"He will be sure to succeed, or the L=
ords
of the Admiralty must
have hearts harder than Portland stone.&qu=
ot;
But, notwithstanding McNabbs's assurance, =
Lady
Helena passed
the night in great anxiety, and could not
close her eyes.
Mary Grant and her brother were up very ea=
rly
next morning,
and were walking about in the courtyard wh=
en
they heard the sound of a
carriage approaching. It was Lord Glenarvan; and, almost
immediately,
Lady Helena and the Major came out to meet
him.
Lady Helena flew toward her husband the mo=
ment
he alighted;
but he embraced her silently, and looked
gloomy and disappointed--
indeed, even furious.
"Well, Edward?" she said; "=
tell
me."
"Well,
"They have refused?"
"Yes. They have refused me a ship! They talked of the millions that
had been wasted in search for
obscure and unintelligible. And, then, they said it was two ye=
ars
now
since they were cast away, and there was
little chance of finding them.
Besides, they would have it that the India=
ns,
who made them prisoners,
would have dragged them into the interior,=
and
it was impossible,
they said, to hunt all through
that the search would be vain and perilous,
and cost more lives than
it saved.=
In short, they assigned all the reasons that people invent
who have made up their minds to refuse.
Captain Grant's projects, and that is the
secret of the whole affair.
So the poor fellow is lost for ever."=
"My father! my poor father!" cri=
ed
Mary Grant, throwing herself
on her knees before Lord Glenarvan, who
exclaimed in amazement:
"Your father? What? Is this Miss--"
"Yes, Edward," said Lady Helena;
"this is Miss Mary Grant and her brother,
the two children condemned to orphanage by=
the
cruel Admiralty!"
"Oh!=
Miss Grant," said Lord Glenarvan, raising the young girl,
"if I had known of your presence--&qu=
ot;
He said no more, and there was a painful
silence in the courtyard,
broken only by sobs. No one spoke, but the very attitud=
e of
both
servants and masters spoke their indignati=
on
at the conduct
of the English Government.
At last the Major said, addressing Lord
Glenarvan: "Then you
have no hope whatever?"
"None," was the reply.
"Very well, then," exclaimed lit=
tle
Robert, "I'll go and speak to those
people myself, and we'll see if they--&quo=
t;
He did not complete his sentence,
for his sister stopped him; but his clench=
ed
fists showed his intentions
were the reverse of pacific.
"No, Robert," said Mary Grant,
"we will thank this noble lord
and lady for what they have done for us, a=
nd
never cease to think
of them with gratitude; and then we'll bot=
h go
together."
"Mary!" said Lady Helena, in a t=
one
of surprise.
"Go where?" asked Lord Glenarvan=
.
"I am going to throw myself at the Qu=
een's
feet, and we shall
see if she will turn a deaf ear to the pra=
yers
of two children,
who implore their father's life."
Lord Glenarvan shook his head; not that he
doubted the kind heart
of her Majesty, but he knew Mary would nev=
er
gain access to her.
Suppliants but too rarely reach the steps =
of a
throne;
it seems as if royal palaces had the same
inscription
on their doors that the English have on th=
eir
ships:
Passengers are requested not to speak to t=
he
man at the wheel.
Lady Glenarvan understood what was passing=
in
her husband's mind,
and she felt the young girl's attempt woul=
d be
useless, and only
plunge the poor children in deeper
despair. Suddenly, a grand,
generous purpose fired her soul, and she
called out:
"Mary Grant! wait, my child, and list=
en
to what I'm going to say."
Mary had just taken her brother by the han=
d,
and turned to go away;
but she stepped back at Lady Helena's bidd=
ing.
The young wife went up to her husband, and
said, with tears in her eyes,
though her voice was firm, and her face be=
amed
with animation:
"Edward, when Captain Grant wrote that
letter and threw it into the sea,
he committed it to the care of God. God has sent it to us--to us!
Undoubtedly God intends us to undertake the
rescue of these poor men."
"What do you mean,
"I mean this, that we ought to think
ourselves fortunate if we
can begin our married life with a good
action. Well, you know,
Edward, that to please me you planned a
pleasure trip;
but what could give us such genuine pleasu=
re,
or be so useful,
as to save those unfortunate fellows, cast=
off
by their country?"
"
"Yes, Edward, you understand me. The
she can venture in the Southern Seas, or go
round the world if necessary.
Let us go, Edward; let us start off and se=
arch
for Captain Grant!"
Lord Glenarvan made no reply to this bold
proposition, but smiled,
and, holding out his arms, drew his wife i=
nto
a close, fond embrace.
Mary and Robert seized her hands, and cove=
red
them with kisses;
and the servants who thronged the courtyar=
d,
and had been witnesses
of this touching scene, shouted with one
voice, "Hurrah for the Lady
of Luss.&=
nbsp;
Three cheers for Lord and Lady Glenarvan!"
WE have said already that Lady Helena was a
brave, generous woman,
and what she had just done proved it
in-disputably. Her husband
had good reason to be proud of such a wife,
one who could
understand and enter into all his views. The idea of going
to Captain Grant's rescue had occurred to =
him
in
request was refused, and he would have
anticipated Lady Helena,
only he could not bear the thought of part=
ing
from her.
But now that she herself proposed to go, a=
ll
hesitation was at an end.
The servants of the Castle had hailed the
project with loud acclamations--
for it was to save their brothers--Scotchm=
en,
like themselves--
and Lord Glenarvan cordially joined his ch=
eers
with theirs,
for the Lady of Luss.
The departure once resolved upon, there was
not an hour to be lost.
A telegram was dispatched to John Mangles =
the
very same day,
conveying Lord Glenarvan's orders to take =
the
to
and possibly round the world, for Lady Hel=
ena
was right in her
opinion that the yacht might safely attempt
the circumnavigation
of the globe, if necessary.
The
She was 210 tons burden--much larger than =
any
of the first
vessels that touched the shores of the
of the four ships that sailed with
She had two masts and all the sails and
rigging of an ordinary clipper,
which would enable her to take advantage of
every favorable wind,
though her chief reliance was on her
mechanical power. The engine,=
which was constructed on a new system, was=
a
high-pressure one,
of 160-horse power, and put in motion a do=
uble
screw.
This gave the yacht such swiftness that du=
ring
her trial
trip in the Firth of Clyde, she made seven=
teen
miles
an hour, a higher speed than any vessel had
yet attained.
No alterations were consequently needed in=
the
DUNCAN herself;
John Mangles had only to attend to her
interior arrangements.
His first care was to enlarge the bunkers =
to
carry as much coal
as possible, for it is difficult to get fr=
esh
supplies en route.
He had to do the same with the store-rooms,
and managed so well
that he succeeded in laying in provisions
enough for two years.
There was abundance of money at his comman=
d,
and enough remained to buy
a cannon, on a pivot carriage, which he
mounted on the forecastle.
There was no knowing what might happen, an=
d it
is always well to be
able to send a good round bullet flying fo=
ur
miles off.
John Mangles understood his business. Though he was only
the captain of a pleasure yacht, he was on=
e of
the best skippers
in
both courage and goodness, if the features
were somewhat coarse.
He had been brought up at the castle by th=
e Glenarvan
family,
and had turned out a capital sailor, having
already given proof,
in some of his long voyages, of his skill =
and
energy and sang-froid.
When Lord Glenarvan offered him the comman=
d of
the
it with right good will, for he loved the
master of Malcolm Castle,
like a brother, and had hitherto vainly so=
ught
some opportunity
of showing his devotion.
Tom Austin, the mate, was an old sailor,
worthy of all confidence.
The crew, consisting of twenty-five men,
including the captain
and chief officer, were all from
Dumbartonshire, experienced sailors,
and all belonging to the Glenarvan estate;=
in
fact, it was a regular clan,
and they did not forget to carry with them=
the
traditional bagpipes.
Lord Glenarvan had in them a band of trust=
y fellows,
skilled in their
calling, devoted to himself, full of coura=
ge,
and as practiced in handling
fire-arms as in the maneuvering of a ship;=
a
valiant little troop,
ready to follow him any where, even in the
most dangerous expeditions.
When the crew heard whither they were boun=
d,
they could not restrain
their enthusiasm, and the rocks of Dumbart=
on
rang again with their joyous
outbursts of cheers.
But while John Mangles made the stowage and
provisioning
of the yacht his chief business, he did not
forget to fit
up the rooms of Lord and Lady Glenarvan fo=
r a
long voyage.
He had also to get cabins ready for the
children of Captain Grant,
as Lady Helena could not refuse Mary's req=
uest
to accompany her.
As for young Robert, he would have smuggled
himself in somewhere
in the hold of the
willingly have gone as cabin-boy, like
Nelson. It was impossible
to resist a little fellow like that, and,
indeed, no one tried.
He would not even go as a passenger, but m=
ust
serve in some capacity,
as cabin-boy, apprentice or sailor, he did=
not
care which,
so he was put in charge of John Mangles, t=
o be
properly trained
for his vocation.
"And I hope he won't spare me the
'cat-o-nine-tails' if I don't
do properly," said Robert.
"Rest easy on that score, my boy,&quo=
t;
said Lord Glenarvan, gravely; he did
not add, that this mode of punishment was
forbidden on board the
and moreover, was quite unnecessary.
To complete the roll of passengers, we must
name Major McNabbs. The Major=
was about fifty years of age, with a calm =
face
and regular features--a man
who did whatever he was told, of an excell=
ent,
indeed, a perfect temper;
modest, silent, peaceable, and amiable,
agreeing with everybody on
every subject, never discussing, never dis=
puting,
never getting angry.
He wouldn't move a step quicker, or slower,
whether he walked upstairs
to bed or mounted a breach. Nothing could excite him, nothing =
could
disturb him, not even a cannon ball, and no
doubt he will die without
ever having known even a passing feeling of
irritation.
This man was endowed in an eminent degree,=
not
only with ordinary
animal courage, that physical bravery of t=
he
battle-field, which
is solely due to muscular energy, but he h=
ad
what is far nobler--
moral courage, firmness of soul. If he had any fault it was his bei=
ng
so intensely Scotch from top to toe, a
Caledonian of the Caledonians,
an obstinate stickler for all the ancient
customs of his country.
This was the reason he would never serve i=
n
his rank of Major in the 42nd regiment, the
Highland Black Watch,
composed entirely of Scotch noblemen.
As a cousin of Glenarvan, he lived in Malc=
olm
Castle, and as a major
he went as a matter of course with the
Such, then, was the PERSONNEL of this yach=
t,
so unexpectedly
called to make one of the most wonderful
voyages of modern times.
From the hour she reached the steamboat qu=
ay
at
she completely monopolized the public
attention. A considerable
crowd visited her every day, and the
of interest and conversation, to the great
vexation of the different
captains in the port, among others of Capt=
ain
Burton, in command
of the
and bound for
justly look upon the
pleasure yacht of Lord Glenarvan was quite=
the
center of attraction,
and the excitement about her daily increas=
ed.
The
the morning of the 25th of August. But before starting, a touching
ceremony was witnessed by the good people =
of
o'clock the night before, Lord Glenarvan a=
nd
his friends,
and the entire crew, from the stokers to t=
he
captain, all who were
to take part in this self-sacrificing voya=
ge,
left the yacht
and repaired to St. Mungo's, the ancient
cathedral of the city.
This venerable edifice, so marvelously
described by Walter Scott,
remains intact amid the ruins made by the
Reformation;
and it was there, beneath its lofty arches=
, in
the grand nave,
in the presence of an immense crowd, and
surrounded by tombs
as thickly set as in a cemetery, that they=
all
assembled to implore
the blessing of Heaven on their expedition,
and to put themselves
under the protection of
the service, and when he had ended and
pronounced the benediction,
a young girl's voice broke the solemn sile=
nce
that followed.
It was Mary Grant who poured out her heart=
to
God in prayer
for her benefactors, while grateful happy
tears streamed down
her cheeks, and almost choked her utterance. The vast assembly<= o:p>
dispersed under the influence of deep emot=
ion,
and at ten o'clock
the passengers and crew returned on board =
the
vessel.
THE ladies passed the whole of the first d=
ay
of the voyage
in their berths, for there was a heavy swe=
ll
in the sea,
and toward evening the wind blew pretty fr=
esh,
and the
tossed and pitched considerably.
But the morning after, the wind changed, a=
nd
the captain ordered
the men to put up the foresail, and brigan=
tine
and foretopsail,
which greatly lessened the rolling of the
vessel.
Lady Helena and Mary Grant were able to co=
me
on deck at daybreak,
where they found Lord Glenarvan, Major McN=
abbs
and the captain.
"And how do you stand the sea, Miss
Mary?" said Lord Glenarvan.
"Pretty well, my Lord. I am not very much inconvenienced =
by it.
Besides I shall get used to it."
"And our young Robert!"
"Oh, as for Robert," said the ca=
ptain,
"whenever he is not
poking about down below in the engine-room=
, he
is perched
somewhere aloft among the rigging. A youngster like that
laughs at sea-sickness. Why, look at him t=
his
very moment!
Do you see him?"
The captain pointed toward the foremast, a=
nd
sure enough there
was Robert, hanging on the yards of the
topgallant mast,
a hundred feet above in the air. Mary involuntarily gave a start,
but the captain said:
"Oh, don't be afraid, Miss Mary; he is
all right, take my word for it;
I'll have a capital sailor to present to
Captain Grant before long,
for we'll find the worthy captain, depend =
upon
it."
"Heaven grant it, Mr. John," rep=
lied
the young girl.
"My dear child," said Lord
Glenarvan, "there is something so
providential in the whole affair, that we =
have
every reason to hope.
We are not going, we are led; we are not
searching, we are guided.
And then see all the brave men that have
enlisted in the service
of the good cause. We shall not only succeed in our
enterprise,
but there will be little difficulty in
it. I promised Lady Helena
a pleasure trip, and I am much mistaken if=
I
don't keep my word."
"Edward," said his wife, "y=
ou
are the best of men."
"Not at all," was the reply;
"but I have the best of crews and the best
of ships.=
You don't admire the
"On the contrary, my lord, I do admire
her, and I'm a connoisseur
in ships," returned the young girl.
"Indeed!"
"Yes. I have played all my life on my fa=
ther's
ships.
He should have made me a sailor, for I dare
say, at a push,
I could reef a sail or plait a gasket easi=
ly
enough."
"Do you say so, miss?" exclaimed
John Mangles.
"If you talk like that you and John w=
ill
be great friends,
for he can't think any calling is equal to
that of a seaman;
he can't fancy any other, even for a
woman. Isn't it true, John?&q=
uot;
"Quite so," said the captain,
"and yet, your Lordship, I must confess
that Miss Grant is more in her place on the
poop than reefing a topsail.
But for all that, I am quite flattered by =
her
remarks."
"And especially when she admires the =
"Well, really," said Lady Glenar=
van,
"you are so proud of your yacht
that you make me wish to look all over it;=
and
I should like to go
down and see how our brave men are
lodged."
"Their quarters are first-rate,"
replied John, "they are as comfortable
as if they were at home."
"And they really are at home, my dear=
said Lord Glenarvan. "This yacht is a portion of o=
ur old
a fragment of Dumbartonshire, making a voy=
age
by special favor,
so that in a manner we are still in our own
country.
The
"Very well, dear Edward, do the honor=
s of
the Castle then."
"At your service, madam; but let me t=
ell
Olbinett first."
The steward of the yacht was an excellent
maitre d'hotel,
and might have been French for his airs of
importance, but for all
that he discharged his functions with zeal=
and
intelligence.
"Olbinett," said his master, as =
he
appeared in answer to
his summons, "we are going to have a =
turn
before breakfast.
I hope we shall find it ready when we come
back."
He said this just as if it had been a walk=
to
Tarbert or Loch Katrine
they were going, and the steward bowed with
perfect gravity in reply.
"Are you coming with us, Major?"
asked Lady Helena.
"If you command me," replied
McNabbs.
"Oh!" said Lord Glenarvan; "=
;the
Major is absorbed in his cigar;
"you mustn't tear him from it. He is an inveterate smoker,
Miss Mary, I can tell you. He is always smoking, even while h=
e sleeps."
The Major gave an assenting nod, and Lord
Glenarvan and his
party went below.
McNabbs remained alone, talking to himself=
, as
was his habit,
and was soon enveloped in still thicker cl=
ouds
of smoke.
He stood motionless, watching the track of=
the
yacht.
After some minutes of this silent
contemplation he turned round,
and suddenly found himself face to face wi=
th a
new comer.
Certainly, if any thing could have surpris=
ed
him, this RENCONTRE would,
for he had never seen the stranger in his =
life
before.
He was a tall, thin, withered-looking man,
about forty years
of age, and resembled a long nail with a b=
ig
head. His head
was large and massive, his forehead high, =
his
chin very marked.
His eyes were concealed by enormous round
spectacles, and in his
look was that peculiar indecision which is
common to nyctalopes,
or people who have a peculiar construction=
of
the eye,
which makes the sight imperfect in the day=
and
better at night.
It was evident from his physiognomy that he
was a lively,
intelligent man; he had not the crabbed
expression of those grave
individuals who never laugh on principle, =
and
cover their
emptiness with a mask of seriousness. He looked far from that.
His careless, good-humored air, and easy,
unceremonious manners,
showed plainly that he knew how to take men
and things on their
bright side. But though he had not yet opened h=
is
mouth,
he gave one the impression of being a great
talker, and moreover,
one of those absent folks who neither see
though they are looking,
nor hear though they are listening. He wore a traveling cap,
and strong, low, yellow boots with leather
gaiters.
His pantaloons and jacket were of brown
velvet, and their
innumerable pockets were stuffed with
note-books, memorandum-books,
account-books, pocket-books, and a thousand
other things equally
cumbersome and useless, not to mention a
telescope in addition,
which he carried in a shoulder-belt.
The stranger's excitement was a strong
contrast to the Major's placidity.
He walked round McNabbs, looking at him and
questioning him with his
eyes without eliciting one remark from the
imperturbable Scotchman,
or awakening his curiosity in the least, to
know where he came from,
and where he was going, and how he had got=
on
board the
Finding all his efforts baffled by the Maj=
or's
indifference,
the mysterious passenger seized his telesc=
ope,
drew it out
to its fullest extent, about four feet, and
began gazing at
the horizon, standing motionless with his =
legs
wide apart.
His examination lasted some few minutes, a=
nd
then he lowered
the glass, set it up on deck, and leaned o=
n it
as if it had been
a walking-stick. Of course, his weight shu=
t up
the instrument
immediately by pushing the different parts=
one
into the other,
and so suddenly, that he fell full length =
on
deck, and lay
sprawling at the foot of the mainmast.
Any one else but the Major would have smil=
ed,
at least,
at such a ludicrous sight; but McNabbs nev=
er
moved a muscle
of his face.
This was too much for the stranger, and he
called out,
with an unmistakably foreign accent:
"Steward!"
He waited a minute, but nobody appeared, a=
nd
he called again,
still louder, "Steward!"
Mr. Olbinett chanced to be passing that mi=
nute
on his way from the galley,
and what was his astonishment at hearing
himself addressed like this
by a lanky individual of whom he had no
knowledge whatever.
"Where can he have come from? Who is he?" he thought to him=
self.
"He can not possibly be one of Lord
Glenarvan's friends?"
However, he went up on the poop, and
approached the unknown personage,
who accosted him with the inquiry, "A=
re
you the steward of this vessel? "
"Yes, sir," replied Olbinett;
"but I have not the honor of--"
"I am the passenger in cabin Number
6."
"Number 6!" repeated the steward=
.
"Certainly; and your name, what is
it?"
"Olbinett."
"Well, Olbinett, my friend, we must t=
hink
of breakfast, and that
pretty quickly. It is thirty-six hours since I hav=
e had
anything
to eat, or rather thirty-six hours that I =
have
been asleep--
pardonable enough in a man who came all the
way, without stopping,
from
"Nine o'clock," replied Olbinett,
mechanically.
The stranger tried to pull out his watch to
see the time;
but it was not till he had rummaged through
the ninth pocket
that he found it.
"Ah, well," he said, "it is
only eight o'clock at present.
Fetch me a glass of sherry and a biscuit w=
hile
I am waiting,
for I am actually falling through sheer
inanition."
Olbinett heard him without understanding w=
hat
he meant for the voluble
stranger kept on talking incessantly, flyi=
ng
from one subject to another.
"The captain? Isn't the captain up yet? And the chief officer?
What is he doing? Is he asleep still? It is fine weather, fortunately,
and the wind is favorable, and the ship go=
es
all alone."
Just at that moment John Mangles appeared =
at
the top of the stairs.
"Here is the captain!" said
Olbinett.
"Ah! delighted, Captain Burton, delig=
hted
to make your acquaintance,"
exclaimed the unknown.
John Mangles stood stupefied, as much at
seeing the stranger on board
as at hearing himself called "Captain
Burton."
But the new comer went on in the most affa=
ble
manner.
"Allow me to shake hands with you, si=
r;
and if I did not do
so yesterday evening, it was only because I
did not wish
to be troublesome when you were starting.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> But to-day, captain,
it gives me great pleasure to begin my
intercourse with you."
John Mangles opened his eyes as wide as
possible, and stood staring
at Olbinett and the stranger alternately.<= o:p>
But without waiting for a reply, the rattl=
ing
fellow continued:
"Now the introduction is made, my dear
captain, we are old friends.
Let's have a little talk, and tell me how =
you
like the
"What do you mean by the
"By the
that has been commended to me, not only for
its physical qualities,
but also for the moral qualities of its
commander, the brave
Captain Burton. You will be some relation of the f=
amous
African traveler of that name. A daring man he was, sir.
I offer you my congratulations."
"Sir," interrupted John. "I am not only no relation of=
the great traveler, but I am not even Capt=
ain
Burton."
"Ah, is that so? It is Mr. Burdness, the chief offi=
cer,
that I am talking to at present."
"Mr. Burdness!" repeated John
Mangles, beginning to
suspect how the matter stood. Only he asked himself
whether the man was mad, or some heedless
rattle pate?
He was beginning to explain the case in a
categorical manner,
when Lord Glenarvan and his party came up =
on
the poop.
The stranger caught sight of them directly,
and exclaimed:
"Ah! the passengers, the passengers!<= span style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> I hope you are going to introduce<= o:p>
me to them, Mr. Burdness!"
But he could not wait for any one's
intervention, and going up to them
with perfect ease and grace, said, bowing =
to
Miss Grant, "Madame;" then
to Lady Helena, with another bow,
"Miss;" and to Lord Glenarvan, "Sir."
Here John Mangles interrupted him, and sai=
d,
"Lord Glenarvan."
"My Lord," continued the unknown,
"I beg pardon for presenting myself
to you, but at sea it is well to relax the
strict rules of etiquette
a little.=
I hope we shall soon become acquainted with each other,
and that the company of these ladies will =
make
our voyage in the
appear as short as agreeable."
Lady Helena and Miss Grant were too astoni=
shed
to be able to utter
a single word. The presence of this intruder on t=
he
poop of the
was perfectly inexplicable.
Lord Glenarvan was more collected, and sai=
d,
"Sir, to whom have I
the honor of speaking?"
"To Jacques Eliacin Francois Marie
Paganel, Secretary of the
Geographical Society of
of
and
Ethnographical Institute of the
spent twenty years of his life in geograph=
ical
work in the study,
wishes to see active service, and is on his
way to
for the science what information he can by
following up the footsteps
of great travelers."
THE Secretary of the Geographical Society =
was
evidently an
amiable personage, for all this was said i=
n a
most charming manner.
Lord Glenarvan knew quite well who he was =
now,
for he had
often heard Paganel spoken of, and was awa=
re
of his merits.
His geographical works, his papers on mode=
rn
discoveries, inserted in
the reports of the Society, and his world-=
wide
correspondence,
gave him a most distinguished place among =
the
LITERATI of
Lord Glenarvan could not but welcome such a
guest,
and shook hands cordially.
"And now that our introductions are
over," he added, "you will allow me,
Monsieur Paganel, to ask you a question?&q=
uot;
"Twenty, my Lord, " replied Paga=
nel;
"it will always be a pleasure
to converse with you."
"Was it last evening that you came on
board this vessel?"
"Yes, my Lord, about 8 o'clock. I jum=
ped
into a cab at the
Caledonian Railway, and from the cab into =
the
had booked my cabin before I left
and I saw no one on board, so I found cabin
No. 6, and went
to my berth immediately, for I had heard t=
hat
the best way
to prevent sea-sickness is to go to bed as
soon as you start,
and not to stir for the first few days; an=
d,
moreover, I had
been traveling for thirty hours. So I tucked myself in,
and slept conscientiously, I assure you, f=
or
thirty-six hours."
Paganel's listeners understood the whole
mystery, now, of his
presence on the
and gone on board while the crew were
attending the service
at St. Mungo's. All was explained. But what would the learned
geographer say, when he heard the name and
destination of the ship,
in which he had taken passage?
"Then it is
of departure on your travels?"
"Yes, my Lord, to see
all my life. It will be the realization of my f=
ondest
dreams,
to find myself in the country of elephants=
and
Thugs."
"Then it would be by no means a matte=
r of
indifference to you,
to visit another country instead."
"No, my Lord; indeed it would be very
disagreeable, for I have letters
from Lord Somerset, the Governor-General, =
and
also a commission
to execute for the Geographical Society.&q=
uot;
"Ah, you have a commission."
"Yes, I have to attempt a curious and
important journey,
the plan of which has been drawn up by my
learned friend
and colleague, M. Vivien de Saint Martin.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> I am to pursue
the track of the Schlaginweit Brothers; and
Colonels Waugh
and Webb, and Hodgson; and Huc and Gabet, =
the
missionaries;
and Moorecroft and M. Jules Remy, and so m=
any
celebrated travelers.
I mean to try and succeed where Krick, the
missionary
so unfortunately failed in 1846; in a word=
, I
want to follow
the course of the river Yarou-Dzangbo-Tcho=
u,
which waters Thibet
for a distance of 1500 kilometres, flowing
along the northern
base of the
river does not join itself to the Brahmapo=
utre
in the northeast
of As-sam. The gold medal, my Lord, is
promised to the traveler
who will succeed in ascertaining a fact wh=
ich
is one of the greatest
DESIDERATA to the geography of
Paganel was magnificent. He spoke with superb animation, so=
aring
away
on the wings of imagination. It would have been as impossible t=
o stop
him as to stop the Rhine at the
"Monsieur Jacques Paganel," said
Lord Glenarvan, after a
brief pause, "that would certainly be=
a
grand achievement,
and you would confer a great boon on scien=
ce,
but I should not
like to allow you to be laboring under a
mistake any longer,
and I must tell you, therefore, that for t=
he
present at least,
you must give up the pleasure of a visit t=
o
"Give it up. And why?"
"Because you are turning your back on=
the
Indian peninsula."
"What! Captain Burton."
"I am not Captain Burton," said =
John
Mangles.
"But the
"This vessel is not the
It would be impossible to depict the
astonishment of Paganel. He s=
tared
first at one and then at another in the ut=
most
bewilderment.
Lord Glenarvan was perfectly grave, and La=
dy
Helena and Mary showed their
sympathy for his vexation by their looks.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> As for John Mangles, he could
not suppress a smile; but the Major appear=
ed
as unconcerned as usual.
At last the poor fellow shrugged his
shoulders, pushed down his spectacles
over his nose and said:
"You are joking."
But just at that very moment his eye fell =
on
the wheel of the ship,
and he saw the two words on it:
=
&nb=
sp;
=
&nb=
sp;
"The
and forthwith rushed down the stairs, and =
away
to his cabin.
As soon as the unfortunate SAVANT had
disappeared, every one,
except the Major, broke out into such peal=
s of
laughter that
the sound reached the ears of the sailors =
in
the forecastle.
To mistake a railway or to take the train =
to
want to go to Dumbarton might happen; but =
to
mistake a ship
and be sailing for Chili when you meant to=
go
to
that is a blunder indeed!
"However," said Lord Glenarvan,
"I am not much astonished
at it in Paganel. He is quite famous for such
misadventures.
One day he published a celebrated map of <=
st1:country-region
w:st=3D"on">America, and put
But for all that, he is distinguished for =
his
learning,
and he is one of the best geographers in <=
st1:country-region
w:st=3D"on">
"But what shall we do with the poor
gentleman?" said Lady Helena;
"we can't take him with us to
"Why not?" replied McNabbs,
gravely. "We are not
responsible
for his heedless mistakes. Suppose he were in a railway train=
,
would they stop it for him?"
"No, but he would get out at the first
station."
"Well, that is just what he can do he=
re,
too, if he likes;
he can disembark at the first place where =
we
touch."
While they were talking, Paganel came up a=
gain
on the poop,
looking very woebegone and crestfallen.
inquiry about his luggage, to assure himse=
lf
that it was all
on board, and kept repeating incessantly t=
he
unlucky words,
"The
He could find no others in his
vocabulary. He paced restless=
ly
up and down; sometimes stopping to examine=
the
sails,
or gaze inquiringly over the wide ocean, at
the far horizon.
At length he accosted Lord Glenarvan once
more, and said--
"And this
"To
"And to what particular part?"
"To
"To Chili! to Chili!" cried the
unfortunate geographer.
"And my mission to
the President of the Central Commission, s=
ay?
And M. d' Avezac? And M. Cortanbert? And M. Vivien de
of the Society?"
"Come, Monsieur Paganel, don't
despair. It can all be manage=
d;
you will only have to put up with a little
delay, which is relatively
of not much importance. The Yarou-Dzangbo-Tchou will wait =
for
you
still in the mountains of Thibet. We shall soon put in at
and you will get a ship there to take you =
back
to
"Thanks, my Lord. I suppose I must resign myself to =
it;
but people will say it is a most extraordi=
nary
adventure,
and it is only to me such things happen. And then, too, there is
a cabin taken for me on board the
"Oh, as to the
"But the
after a fresh examination of the vessel.
"Yes, sir," said John Mangles,
"and belongs to Lord Glenarvan."
"Who begs you will draw freely on his
hospitality," said Lord Glenarvan.
"A thousand thanks, my Lord! I deeply feel your courtesy,
but allow me to make one observation: India
and can offer many a surprising marvel to
travelers.
These ladies, I suppose, have never seen
it. Well now,
the man at the helm has only to give a tur=
n at
the wheel,
and the
and since it is only a pleasure trip that =
you
are--"
His proposal was met by such grave,
disapproving shakes of the head,
that he stopped short before the sentence =
was
completed;
and Lady Helena said:
"Monsieur Paganel, if we were only on=
a
pleasure trip, I should reply,
'Let us all go to
not object; but the
who were cast away on the shores of
such a destination."
The Frenchman was soon put in possession of
all the circumstances
of the case. He was no unmoved auditor, and whe=
n he
heard
of Lady Helena's generous proposition, he
could not help saying,
"Madame, permit me to express my
admiration of your conduct throughout--
my unreserved admiration. Let your yacht continue her course=
.
I should reproach myself were I to cause a
single day's delay."
"Will you join us in our search,
then?" asked Lady Helena.
"It is impossible, madame. I must fulfill my mission.
I shall disembark at the first place you t=
ouch
at,
wherever it may be."
"That will be
"
and I shall wait there for some means of
transport."
"Very well, Monsieur Paganel, it shal=
l be
as you wish; and, for my
own part, I am very glad to be able to off=
er
you, meantime,
a few days' hospitality. I only hope you will not find our<= o:p>
company too dull."
"Oh, my Lord," exclaimed Paganel,
"I am but too happy
to have made a mistake which has turned ou=
t so
agreeably.
Still, it is a very ridiculous plight for a
man to be in,
to find himself sailing to
to the
But in spite of this melancholy reflection,
the Frenchman submitted
gracefully to the compulsory delay. He made himself amiable and merry,=
and even diverting, and enchanted the ladi=
es
with his good humor.
Before the end of the day he was friends w=
ith
everybody.
At his request, the famous document was
brought out.
He studied it carefully and minutely for a
long time, and finally
declared his opinion that no other
interpretation of it was possible.
Mary Grant and her brother inspired him wi=
th
the most lively interest.
He gave them great hope; indeed, the young
girl could not help
smiling at his sanguine prediction of succ=
ess,
and this odd way
of foreseeing future events. But for his mission he would have =
made
one of the search party for Captain Grant,
undoubtedly.
As for Lady
William Tuffnell, there was a perfect
explosion of admiring epithets.
He had known her father, and what letters =
had
passed between them
when William Tuffnell was a corresponding
member of the Society! It was=
he himself that had introduced him and M. Malte Brun. What a rencontre<= o:p>
this was, and what a pleasure to travel wi=
th
the daughter of Tuffnell.
He wound up by asking permission to kiss h=
er,
which Lady Helena granted,
though it was, perhaps, a little improper.=
MEANTIME the yacht, favored by the currents
from the north
of
On the 30th of August they sighted the
and Glenarvan, true to his promise, offere=
d to
put in there,
and land his new guest.
But Paganel said:
"My dear Lord, I won't stand on cerem=
ony
with you. Tell me,
did you intend to stop at
"No," replied Glenarvan.
"Well, then, allow me to profit by my
unlucky mistake.
an island too well known to be of much
interest now to a geographer.
Every thing about this group has been said=
and
written already.
Besides, it is completely going down as fa=
r as
wine growing is concerned.
Just imagine no vines to speak of being in=
22,000 pipes of wine were made there, and =
in
1845 the number fell
to 2,669. It is a grievous spectacle! If it is all the same to you,
we might go on to the Canary Isles
instead."
"Certainly. It will not the least interfere wi=
th our
route."
"I know it will not, my dear Lord.
there are three groups to study, besides t=
he
which I always wished to visit. This is an opportunity,
and I should like to avail myself of it, a=
nd
make the ascent
of the famous mountain while I am waiting =
for
a ship to take
me back to
"As you please, my dear Paganel,"
said Lord Glenarvan, though he could
not help smiling; and no wonder, for these
islands are scarcely 250
miles from
as the
Next day, about 2 P. M., John Mangles and
Paganel were walking on
the poop.=
The Frenchman was assailing his companion with all sorts
of questions about Chili, when all at once=
the
captain interrupted him,
and pointing toward the southern horizon,
said:
"Monsieur Paganel?"
"Yes, my dear Captain."
"Be so good as to look in this
direction. Don't you see
anything?"
"Nothing."
"You're not looking in the right
place. It is not on the horiz=
on,
but above it in the clouds."
"In the clouds? I might well not see."
"There, there, by the upper end of the
bowsprit."
"I see nothing."
"Then you don't want to see. Anyway, though we are forty miles =
off,
yet I tell you the
above the horizon."
But whether Paganel could not or would not=
see
it then, two hours later
he was forced to yield to ocular evidence =
or
own himself blind.
"You do see it at last, then," s=
aid
John Mangles.
"Yes, yes, distinctly," replied
Paganel, adding in a disdainful tone,
"and that's what they call the
"That's the Peak."
"It doesn't look much of a height.&qu=
ot;
"It is 11,000 feet, though, above the
level of the sea."
"That is not equal to
"Likely enough, but when you come to
ascend it, probably you'll
think it high enough."
"Oh, ascend it! ascend it, my dear
captain! What would be the go=
od
after Humboldt and Bonplan? That Humboldt was a great genius.<= o:p>
He made the ascent of this mountain, and h=
as
given a description
of it which leaves nothing unsaid. He tells us that it comprises
five different zones--the zone of the vine=
s,
the zone of the laurels,
the zone of the pines, the zone of the Alp=
ine
heaths, and, lastly,
the zone of sterility. He set his foot on the very summit=
,
and found that there was not even room eno=
ugh
to sit down.
The view from the summit was very extensiv=
e,
stretching over an
area equal to
and examined the extinct crater. What could I do, I should like you=
to tell me, after that great man?"
"Well, certainly, there isn't much le=
ft
to glean.
That is vexing, too, for you would find it
dull work waiting
for a vessel in the
"But, I say, Mangles, my dear fellow,=
are
there no ports
in the
"Oh, yes, nothing would be easier than
putting you off at Villa Praya."
"And then I should have one advantage,
which is by no
means inconsiderable--I should find
fellow-countrymen
at
I am quite aware that the group is said to=
be
devoid
of much interest, and wild, and unhealthy;=
but
everything
is curious in the eyes of a geographer.
There are people who do not know how to use
their eyes,
and who travel about with as much intellig=
ence
as a shell-fish.
But that's not in my line, I assure you.&q=
uot;
"Please yourself, Monsieur Paganel. I have no doubt geographical scien=
ce
will be a gainer by your sojourn in the
go in there anyhow for coal, so your
disembarkation will not occasion
the least delay."
The captain gave immediate orders for the
yacht to continue her route,
steering to the west of the Canary group, =
and
leaving Teneriffe on
her larboard. She made rapid progress, and passe=
d the
Tropic of Cancer
on the second of September at 5 A. M.
The weather now began to change, and the
atmosphere became damp
and heavy. It was the rainy season, "le =
tempo
das aguas,"
as the Spanish call it, a trying season to
travelers, but useful
to the inhabitants of the
consequently water. The rough weather prevented the
passengers
from going on deck, but did not make the
conversation any less
animated in the saloon.
On the 3d of September Paganel began to
collect his luggage
to go on shore. The
the
barren and desolate, and went on among the
vast coral reefs
and athwart the Isle of St. Jacques, with =
its
long chain
of basaltic mountains, till she entered th=
e
and anchored in eight fathoms of water bef=
ore
the town.
The weather was frightful, and the surf
excessively violent,
though the bay was sheltered from the sea
winds.
The rain fell in such torrents that the to=
wn
was scarcely visible
through it. It rose on a plain in the form of a
terrace,
buttressed on volcanic rocks three hundred=
feet
high.
The appearance of the island through the t=
hick
veil of rain
was mournful in the extreme.
Lady Helena could not go on shore as she h=
ad
purposed;
indeed, even coaling was a difficult busin=
ess,
and the passengers
had to content themselves below the poop as
best they might.
Naturally enough, the main topic of
conversation was the weather.
Everybody had something to say about it ex=
cept
the Major,
who surveyed the universal deluge with the
utmost indifference.
Paganel walked up and down shaking his hea=
d.
"It is clear enough, Paganel," s=
aid
Lord Glenarvan, "that the elements
are against you."
"I'll be even with them for all
that," replied the Frenchman.
"You could not face rain like that,
Monsieur Paganel,"
said Lady Helena.
"Oh, quite well, madam, as far as I
myself am concerned.
It is for my luggage and instruments that =
I am
afraid.
Everything will be ruined."
"The disembarking is the worst part of
the business.
Once at Villa Praya you might manage to fi=
nd
pretty good quarters.
They wouldn't be over clean, and you might
find the monkeys
and pigs not always the most agreeable
companions.
But travelers are not too particular, and,
moreover, in seven
or eight months you would get a ship, I da=
re
say, to take you
back to
"Seven or eight months!" exclaim=
ed
Paganel.
"At least. The
during the rainy season. But you can employ your time usefu=
lly.
This archipelago is still but little
known."
"You can go up the large rivers,"
suggested Lady Helena.
"There are none, madam."
"Well, then, the small ones."
"There are none, madam."
"The running brooks, then."
"There are no brooks, either."
"You can console yourself with the
forests if that's the case,"
put in the Major.
"You can't make forests without trees,
and there are no trees."
"A charming country!" said the
Major.
"Comfort yourself, my dear Paganel,
you'll have the mountains
at any rate," said Glenarvan.
"Oh, they are neither lofty nor
interesting, my Lord, and, beside,
they have been described already."
"Already!" said Lord Glenarvan.<= o:p>
"Yes, that is always my luck. At the
anticipated by Humboldt, and here by M.
Charles Sainte-Claire Deville,
a geologist."
"Impossible!"
"It is too true," replied Pagane=
l,
in a doleful voice.
"Monsieur Deville was on board the
government corvette,
La Decidee, when she touched at the
and he explored the most interesting of the
group, and went
to the top of the volcano in
to do after him?"
"It is really a great pity," sai=
d
of you, Monsieur Paganel?"
Paganel remained silent.
"You would certainly have done much
better to have landed at
even though there had been no wine," =
said
Glenarvan.
Still the learned secretary was silent.
"I should wait," said the Major,
just as if he had said,
"I should not wait."
Paganel spoke again at length, and said:
"My dear Glenarvan, where do you mean=
to
touch next?"
"At
"Plague it! That is a long way out of the road=
to
"Not it! From the moment you pass
nearer to it."
"I doubt it much."
"Beside," resumed Lord Glenarvan,
with perfect gravity,
"when people are going to the
whether it is to the East or West."
"What! it does not matter much?"=
"Without taking into account the fact
that the inhabitants
of the Pampas in
of the Punjaub."
"Well done, my Lord. That's a reason that would never h=
ave
entered my head!"
"And then, my dear Paganel, you can g=
ain
the gold medal anyway.
There is as much to be done, and sought, a=
nd
investigated,
and discovered in the
"But the course of the Yarou-Dzangbo-=
Tchou--what
about that?"
"Go up the Rio Colorado instead. It is a river but little known,
and its course on the map is marked out too
much according
to the fancy of geographers."
"I know it is, my dear Lord; they have
made grave mistakes. Oh, I ma=
ke
no question that the Geographical Society
would have sent me to
as soon as to
But I never thought of it."
"Just like you."
"Come, Monsieur Paganel, will you go =
with
us?" asked Lady Helena,
in her most winning tone.
"Madam, my mission?"
"We shall pass through the Straits of
Magellan, I must tell you,"
said Lord Glenarvan.
"My Lord, you are a tempter."
"Let me add, that we shall visit Port
Famine."
"Port Famine!" exclaimed the
Frenchman, besieged on all sides.
"That famous port in French annals!&q=
uot;
"Think, too, Monsieur Paganel, that by
taking part in our enterprise,
you will be linking
"Undoubtedly."
"A geographer would be of much use to=
our
expedition, and what can
be nobler than to bring science to the ser=
vice
of humanity?"
"That's well said, madam."
"Take my advice, then, and yield to
chance, or rather providence.
Follow our example. It was providence that sent us the
document,
and we set out in consequence. The same providence brought you
on board the
"Shall I say yes, my good friends?
you want me very much to stay, don't
you?" said Paganel.
"And you're dying to stay, now, aren't
you, Paganel?" returned Glenarvan.
"That's about it," confessed the
learned geographer; "but I was afraid
it would be inconsiderate."
THE joy on board was universal when Pagane=
l's
resolution was made known.
Little Robert flung himself on his neck in
such tumultuous delight
that he nearly threw the worthy secretary
down, and made him say,
"Rude petit bonhomme. I'll teach him geography."
Robert bade fair to be an accomplished
gentleman some day,
for John Mangles was to make a sailor of h=
im,
and the Major
was to teach him sang-froid, and Glenarvan=
and
Lady Helena were
to instil into him courage and goodness and
generosity, while Mary
was to inspire him with gratitude toward s=
uch
instructors.
The
on the dismal region. She fell in before long with the c=
urrent
from the coast of
the Southern hemisphere.
So far, then, the voyage had been made wit=
hout
difficulty.
Everybody was full of hope, for in this se=
arch
for Captain Grant,
each day seemed to increase the probabilit=
y of
finding him.
The captain was among the most confident on
board, but his confidence
mainly arose from the longing desire he ha=
d to
see Miss Mary happy.
He was smitten with quite a peculiar inter=
est
for this young girl,
and managed to conceal his sentiments so w=
ell
that everyone on board
saw it except himself and Mary Grant.
As for the learned geographer, he was prob=
ably
the happiest
man in all the southern hemisphere. He spent the whole day
in studying maps, which were spread out on=
the
saloon table,
to the great annoyance of M. Olbinett, who
could never get
the cloth laid for meals, without disputes=
on
the subject.
But all the passengers took his part except
the Major,
who was perfectly indifferent about
geographical questions,
especially at dinner-time. Paganel also ca=
me
across
a regular cargo of old books in the chief
officer's chest.
They were in a very damaged condition, but
among them he raked
out a few Spanish volumes, and determined
forthwith to set
to work to master the language of Cer-vant=
es,
as no one on
board understood it, and it would be helpf=
ul
in their search
along the Chilian coast. Thanks to his taste for languages,=
he did not despair of being able to speak =
the
language fluently
when they arrived at
and kept constantly muttering heterogeneous
syllables.
He spent his leisure hours in teaching you=
ng
Robert, and instructed
him in the history of the country they wer=
e so
rapidly approaching.
On the 25th of September, the yacht arrived
off
the Straits of Magellan, and entered them
without delay.
This route is generally preferred by steam=
ers
on their way to
the
Ships of the largest tonnage find, through=
out,
sufficient depth of water,
even close to the shore, and there is a go=
od
bottom everywhere,
and abundance of fresh water, and rivers
abounding in fish,
and forests in game, and plenty of safe and
accessible harbors;
in fact a thousand things which are lackin=
g in
Strait Lemaire
and
by hurricane and tempest.
For the first three or four hours--that is=
to
say, for about
sixty to eighty miles, as far as
either side was low and sandy. Jacques Paganel would not lose
a single point of view, nor a single detai=
l of
the straits.
It would scarcely take thirty-six hours to=
go
through them,
and the moving panorama on both sides, see=
n in
all the clearness
and glory of the light of a southern sun, =
was
well worth the trouble
of looking at and admiring. On the Terra
wretched-looking creatures were wandering
about on the rocks,
but on the other side not a solitary
inhabitant was visible.
Paganel was so vexed at not being able to
catch a glimpse of
any Patagonians, that his companions were
quite amused at him.
He would insist that
But Glenarvan replied:
"Patience, my worthy geographer. We shall see the Patagonians yet.&=
quot;
"I am not sure of it."
"But there is such a people,
anyhow," said Lady Helena.
"I doubt it much, madam, since I don't
see them."
"But surely the very name
in Spanish, would not have been given to
imaginary beings."
"Oh, the name is nothing," said
Paganel, who was arguing simply
for the sake of arguing. "And besides, to speak the tr=
uth,
we are not sure if that is their name.&quo=
t;
"What an idea!" exclaimed
Glenarvan. "Did you know=
that,
Major?"
"No," replied McNabbs, "and
wouldn't give a Scotch pound-note
for the information."
"You shall hear it, however, Major Indifferent. Though Magellan<= o:p>
called the natives Patagonians, the Fuegia=
ns
called them Tiremenen,
the Chilians Caucalhues, the colonists of
Carmen Tehuelches,
the Araucans Huiliches;
and Falkner that of Tehuelhets. The name they give themselves
is Inaken. Now, tell me then, how would you
recognize them?
Indeed, is it likely that a people with so
many names has
any actual existence?"
"That's a queer argument,
certainly," said Lady Helena.
"Well, let us admit it," said her
husband, "but our friend Paganel
must own that even if there are doubts abo=
ut
the name of the race
there is none about their size."
"Indeed, I will never own anything so
outrageous as that,"
replied Paganel.
"They are tall," said Glenarvan.=
"I don't know that."
"Are they little, then?" asked L=
ady
Helena.
"No one can affirm that they are.&quo=
t;
"About the average, then?" said
McNabbs.
"I don't know that either."
"That's going a little too far,"
said Glenarvan. "Travele=
rs who
have
seen them tell us."
"Travelers who have seen them,"
interrupted Paganel, "don't agree
at all in their accounts. Magellan said that his head scarce=
ly
reached to their waist."
"Well, then, that proves."
"Yes, but Drake declares that the Eng=
lish
are taller than
the tallest Patagonian?"
"Oh, the English--that may be,"
replied the Major, disdainfully, "but we
are talking of the Scotch."
"Cavendish assures us that they are t=
all
and robust,"
continued Paganel. "Hawkins makes out they are g=
iants.
Lemaire and Shouten declare that they are
eleven feet high."
"These are all credible witnesses,&qu=
ot;
said Glenarvan.
"Yes, quite as much as Wood, Narborou=
gh,
and Falkner, who say they
are of medium stature. Again, Byron, Giraudais, Bougainvi=
lle,
Wallis,
and
"But what is the truth, then, among a=
ll
these contradictions?"
asked Lady Helena.
"Just this, madame; the Patagonians h=
ave
short legs, and a large bust;
or by way of a joke we might say that these
natives are six feet high
when they are sitting, and only five when =
they
are standing."
"Bravo! my dear geographer," said
Glenarvan. "That is very=
well
put."
"Unless the race has no existence, th=
at
would reconcile all statements,"
returned Paganel. "But here is one consolation,=
at
all events:
the Straits of Magellan are very magnifice=
nt,
even without Patagonians."
Just at this moment the
between splendid panoramas.
Seventy miles after doubling
the penitentiary of Punta Arena. The church steeple and the Chilian=
flag gleamed for an instant among the tree=
s,
and then the strait
wound on between huge granitic masses which
had an imposing effect.
Cloud-capped mountains appeared, their hea=
ds
white with eternal snows,
and their feet hid in immense forests. Toward the southwest,
on after a long lingering twilight, the li=
ght
insensibly
melting away into soft shades. These brilliant constellations
began to bestud the sky, and the Southern
Cross shone out.
There were numerous bays along the shore, =
easy
of access, but the yacht
did not drop anchor in any; she continued =
her
course fearlessly
through the luminous darkness. Presently ruins came in sight,
crumbling buildings, which the night inves=
ted
with grandeur, the sad
remains of a deserted settlement, whose na=
me
will be an eternal
protest against these fertile shores and
forests full of game.
The
It was in that very spot that Sarmiento, a
Spaniard, came in 1581,
with four hundred emigrants, to establish a
colony.
He founded the city of
of winter decimated the inhabitants, and t=
hose
who had
struggled through the cold died subsequent=
ly
of starvation.
Cavendish the Corsair discovered the last
survivor dying
of hunger in the ruins.
After sailing along these deserted shores,=
the
a series of narrow passes, between forests=
of
beech and ash and birch,
and at length doubled
of the last winter. On the other side of the strait, in
Terra
del Fuego, stood Mount
an enormous accumulation of rocks, separat=
ed
by bands of cloud,
forming a sort of aerial archipelago in the
sky.
It is at
terminates, for
in latitude 52 degrees. At
and she was able to get round Narborough I=
sles
and advance
in a more southerly direction, till at len=
gth
the rock
of Cape Pilares, the extreme point of
Desolation Island,
came in sight, thirty-six hours after ente=
ring
the straits.
Before her stem lay a broad, open, sparkli=
ng
ocean,
which Jacques Paganel greeted with
enthusiastic gestures,
feeling kindred emotions with those which
stirred the bosom
of Ferdinand de Magellan himself, when the
sails of his ship,
the TRINIDAD, first bent before the breeze
from the great Pacific.
A WEEK after they had doubled the
steamed into the bay of
twelve miles long and nine broad. The weather was splendid.
From November to March the sky is always
cloudless, and a constant
south wind prevails, as the coast is shelt=
ered
by the mountain
range of the
John Mangles had sailed as near the
archipelago of Chiloe
as possible, and examined all the creeks a=
nd
windings of
the coast, hoping to discover some traces =
of
the shipwreck.
A broken spar, or any fragment of the vess=
el,
would have put
them in the right track; but nothing whate=
ver
was visible,
and the yacht continued her route, till she
dropped anchor
at the port of Talcahuano, forty-two days =
from
the time she
had sailed out of the fogs of the Clyde.
Glenarvan had a boat lowered immediately, =
and
went on shore,
accompanied by Paganel. The learned geographer gladly avai=
led
himself of the opportunity of making use of
the language he had
been studying so conscientiously, but to h=
is
great amazement,
found he could not make himself understood=
by
the people.
"It is the accent I've not got,"=
he
said.
"Let us go to the Custom-house,"
replied Glenarvan.
They were informed on arriving there, by m=
eans
of a few
English words, aided by expressive gesture=
s,
that the
British Consul lived at Concepcion, an hou=
r's
ride distant.
Glenarvan found no difficulty in procuring=
two
fleet horses,
and he and Paganel were soon within the wa=
lls
of the great city,
due to the enterprising genius of Valdivia,
the valiant comrade
of the Pizarros.
How it was shorn of its ancient splendor!<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Often pillaged by the natives,
burned in 1819, it lay in desolation and
ruins, its walls still
blackened by the flames, scarcely numbering
8,000 inhabitants,
and already eclipsed by Talcahuano. The grass was growing in
the streets, beneath the lazy feet of the
citizens, and all trade
and business, indeed any description of
activity, was impossible.
The notes of the mandolin resounded from e=
very
balcony,
and languishing songs floated on the
breeze. Concepcion, the ancie=
nt
city of brave men, had become a village of
women and children.
Lord Glenarvan felt no great desire to inq=
uire
into the causes
of this decay, though Paganel tried to draw
him into a discussion
on the subject. He would not delay an instant, but=
went
straight on to the house of Mr. Bentic, her
Majesty's Consul,
who received them very courteously, and, on
learning their errand,
undertook to make inquiries all along the
coast.
But to the question whether a three-mast
vessel, called the BRITANNIA,
had gone ashore either on the Chilian or
Araucanian coast, he gave
a decided negative. No report of such an event had bee=
n made
to him,
or any of the other consuls. Glenarvan, however, would not allow
himself
to be disheartened; he went back to
Talcahuano, and spared neither pains
nor expense to make a thorough investigati=
on
of the whole seaboard.
But it was all in vain. The most minute inquiries were
fruitless,
and Lord Glenarvan returned to the yacht to
report his ill success.
Mary Grant and her brother could not restr=
ain
their grief.
Lady Helena did her best to comfort them by
loving caresses,
while Jacques Paganel took up the document=
and
began studying it again.
He had been poring over it for more than an
hour when Glenarvan
interrupted him and said:
"Paganel! I appeal to your sagacity. Have we made an erroneous
interpretation of the document? Is there anything illogical
about the meaning?"
Paganel was silent, absorbed in reflection=
.
"Have we mistaken the place where the
catastrophe occurred?"
continued Glenarvan. "Does not the name Patagonia =
seem
apparent
even to the least clear-sighted
individual?"
Paganel was still silent.
"Besides," said Glenarvan,
"does not the word INDIEN prove
we are right?"
"Perfectly so," replied McNabbs.=
"And is it not evident, then, that at=
the
moment of writing the words,
the shipwrecked men were expecting to be m=
ade
prisoners by the Indians?"
"I take exception to that, my Lord,&q=
uot;
said Paganel;
"and even if your other conclusions a=
re
right, this, at least,
seemed to me irrational."
"What do you mean?" asked Lady
Helena, while all eyes were fixed
on the geographer.
"I mean this," replied Paganel,
"that Captain Grant is now
a prisoner among the Indians, and I further
add that the document
states it unmistakably."
"Explain yourself, sir," said Ma=
ry
Grant.
"Nothing is plainer, dear Mary. Instead of reading the document
seront prisonniers, read sont prisonniers,=
and
the whole
thing is clear."
"But that is impossible," replied
Lord Glenarvan.
"Impossible! and why, my noble
friend?" asked Paganel, smiling.
"Because the bottle could only have b=
een
thrown into the sea just when
the vessel went to pieces on the rocks, and
consequently the latitude
and longitude given refer to the actual pl=
ace
of the shipwreck."
"There is no proof of that," rep=
lied
Paganel, "and I see nothing
to preclude the supposition that the poor
fellows were dragged
into the interior by the Indians, and soug=
ht
to make known
the place of their captivity by means of t=
his
bottle."
"Except this fact, my dear Paganel, t=
hat
there was no sea,
and therefore they could not have flung the
bottle into it."
"Unless they flung it into rivers whi=
ch
ran into the sea,"
returned Paganel.
This reply was so unexpected, and yet so
admissible, that it
made them all completely silent for a minu=
te,
though their
beaming eyes betrayed the rekindling of ho=
pe
in their hearts.
Lady Helena was the first to speak.
"What an idea!" she exclaimed.
"And what a good idea," was
Paganel's naive rejoinder to her exclamation.
"What would you advise, then?" s=
aid
Glenarvan.
"My advice is to follow the 37th para=
llel
from the point where it
touches the American continent to where it
dips into the Atlantic,
without deviating from it half a degree, a=
nd
possibly in some part
of its course we shall fall in with the sh=
ipwrecked
party."
"There is a poor chance of that,"
said the Major.
"Poor as it is," returned Pagane=
l,
"we ought not to lose it.
If I am right in my conjecture, that the
bottle has been carried
into the sea on the bosom of some river, we
cannot fail to find
the track of the prisoners. You can easily convince yourselves=
of this by looking at this map of the
country."
He unrolled a map of Chili and the Argenti=
ne
provinces as he spoke,
and spread it out on the table.
"Just follow me for a moment," he
said, "across the American continent.
Let us make a stride across the narrow str=
ip
of Chili,
and over the Cordilleras of the Andes, and=
get
into the heart of
the Pampas. Shall we find any lack of rivers a=
nd
streams and currents?
No, for here are the Rio Negro and Rio
Colorado, and their tributaries
intersected by the 37th parallel, and any =
of
them might have carried
the bottle on its waters. Then, perhaps, in the midst of a t=
ribe
in some Indian settlement on the shores of
these almost unknown rivers,
those whom I may call my friends await some
providential intervention.
Ought we to disappoint their hopes? Do you not all agree with me
that it is our duty to go along the line my
finger is pointing out at
this moment on the map, and if after all we
find I have been mistaken,
still to keep straight on and follow the 3=
7th
parallel till we find
those we seek, if even we go right round t=
he
world?"
His generous enthusiasm so touched his
auditors that, involuntarily,
they rose to their feet and grasped his ha=
nds,
while Robert exclaimed
as he devoured the map with his eyes:
"Yes, my father is there!"
"And where he is," replied
Glenarvan, "we'll manage to go, my boy,
and find him. Nothing can be more logical than
Paganel's theory,
and we must follow the course he points out
without the least hesitation.
Captain Grant may have fallen into the han=
ds
of a numerous tribe,
or his captors may be but a handful. In the latter case we shall
carry him off at once, but in the event of=
the
former, after we
have reconnoitered the situation, we must =
go
back to the DUNCAN
on the eastern coast and get to Buenos Ayr=
es,
where we can soon
organize a detachment of men, with Major
McNabbs at their head,
strong enough to tackle all the Indians in=
the
Argentine provinces."
"That's capital, my Lord," said =
John
Mangles, "and I may add,
that there is no danger whatever crossing =
the
continent."
"Monsieur Paganel," asked Lady
Helena, "you have no fear then
that if the poor fellows have fallen into =
the
hands of the Indians
their lives at least have been spared.&quo=
t;
"What a question? Why, madam, the Indians are not
anthropophagi!
Far from it. One of my own countrymen, M. Guinn=
ard,
associated with me in the Geographical
Society, was three years
a prisoner among the Indians in the
Pampas. He had to endure
sufferings and ill-treatment, but came off
victorious at last.
A European is a useful being in these
countries.
The Indians know his value, and take care =
of
him as if he were
some costly animal."
"There is not the least room then for
hesitation,"
said Lord Glenarvan. "Go we must, and as soon as
possible.
What route must we take?"
"One that is both easy and
agreeable," replied Paganel.
"Rather mountainous at first, and then
sloping gently down
the eastern side of the Andes into a smooth
plain, turfed and
graveled quite like a garden."
"Let us see the map?" said the
Major.
"Here it is, my dear McNabbs. We shall go through the capital
of Araucania, and cut the Cordilleras by t=
he
pass of Antuco,
leaving the volcano on the south, and glid=
ing
gently down the
mountain sides, past the Neuquem and the R=
io
Colorado on to the Pampas,
till we reach the Sierra Tapalquen, from
whence we shall see
the frontier of the province of Buenos
Ayres. These we shall
pass by, and cross over the Sierra Tandil,
pursuing our search
to the very shores of the Atlantic, as far=
as
Point Medano."
Paganel went through this programme of the
expedition without
so much as a glance at the map. He was so posted up in the travels=
of Frezier, Molina, Humboldt, Miers, and
Orbigny, that he had
the geographical nomenclature at his finge=
rs'
ends, and could
trust implicitly to his never-failing memo=
ry.
"You see then, friend," he added,
"that it is a straight course.
In thirty days we shall have gone over it,=
and
gained the eastern
side before the DUNCAN, however little she=
may
be delayed
by the westerly winds."
"Then the DUNCAN is to cruise between
Corrientes and Cape Saint Antonie,"
said John Mangles.
"Just so."
"And how is the expedition to be
organized?" asked Glenarvan.
"As simply as possible. All there is to be done is to
reconnoiter
the situation of Captain Grant and not to =
come
to gunshot with
the Indians. I think that Lord Glenarvan, our n=
atural
leader;
the Major, who would not yield his place to
anybody; and your
humble servant, Jacques Paganel."
"And me," interrupted Robert.
"Robert, Robert!" exclaimed Mary=
.
"And why not?" returned
Paganel. "Travels form t=
he
youthful mind.
Yes, Robert, we four and three of the
sailors."
"And does your Lordship mean to pass =
me
by?" said John Mangles,
addressing his master.
"My dear John," replied Glenarva=
n,
"we leave passengers on board,
those dearer to us than life, and who is to
watch over them
but the devoted captain?"
"Then we can't accompany you?" s=
aid
Lady Helena, while a shade
of sadness beclouded her eyes.
"My dear Helena, the journey will so =
soon
be accomplished that it
will be but a brief separation, and--"=
;
"Yes, dear, I understand, it is all
right; and I do hope
you may succeed."
"Besides, you can hardly call it a
journey," added Paganel.
"What is it, then?"
"It is just making a flying passage
across the continent, the way
a good man goes through the world, doing a=
ll
the good he can.
Transire beneficiendo--that is our
motto."
This ended the discussion, if a conversati=
on
can be so called,
where all who take part in it are of the s=
ame
opinion.
Preparations commenced the same day, but as
secretly as possible
to prevent the Indians getting scent of it=
.
The day of departure was fixed for the 14t=
h of
October. The sailors
were all so eager to join the expedition t=
hat
Glenarvan found the only
way to prevent jealousy among them was to =
draw
lots who should go.
This was accordingly done, and fortune fav=
ored
the chief officer,
Tom Austin, Wilson, a strong, jovial young
fellow, and Mulrady, so good
a boxer that he might have entered the lis=
ts
with Tom Sayers himself.
Glenarvan displayed the greatest activity
about the preparations,
for he was anxious to be ready by the
appointed day.
John Mangles was equally busy in coaling t=
he
vessel, that she
might weigh anchor at the same time. There was quite a rivalry
between Glenarvan and the young captain ab=
out
getting first
to the Argentine coast.
Both were ready on the 14th. The whole search party assembled
in the saloon to bid farewell to those who
remained behind.
The DUNCAN was just about to get under way,
and already
the vibration of the screw began to agitate
the limpid waters of
Talcahuano, Glenarvan, Paganel, McNabbs,
Robert Grant, Tom Austin, Wilson,
and Mulrady, stood armed with carbines and
Colt's revolvers.
Guides and mules awaited them at the landi=
ng
stairs of the harbor.
"It is time," said Lord Glenarva=
n at
last.
"Go then, dear Edward," said Lady
Helena, restraining her emotion.
Lord Glenarvan clasped her closely to his
breast for an instant,
and then turned away, while Robert flung h=
is
arms round Mary's neck.
"And now, friends," said Paganel,
"let's have one good hearty
shake of the hand all round, to last us ti=
ll
we get to the shores
of the Atlantic."
This was not much to ask, but he certainly=
got
strong enough
grips to go some way towards satisfying his
desire.
All went on deck now, and the seven explor=
ers
left the vessel.
They were soon on the quay, and as the yac=
ht
turned round
to pursue her course, she came so near whe=
re they
stood,
that Lady Helena could exchange farewells =
once
more.
"God help you!" she called out.<= o:p>
"Heaven will help us, madam,"
shouted Paganel, in reply,
"for you may be sure we'll help
ourselves."
"Go on," sung out the captain to=
his
engineer.
At the same moment Lord Glenarvan gave the
signal to start,
and away went the mules along the coast, w=
hile
the DUNCAN
steamed out at full speed toward the broad
ocean.
THE native troops organized by Lord Glenar=
van
consisted of three men
and a boy. The captain of the muleteers was an
Englishman, who had
become naturalized through twenty years'
residence in the country.
He made a livelihood by letting out mules =
to
travelers,
and leading them over the difficult passes=
of
the
after which he gave them in charge of a
BAQUEANO, or Argentine guide,
to whom the route through the Pampas was
perfectly familiar.
This Englishman had not so far forgotten h=
is
mother tongue among
mules and Indians that he could not conver=
se
with his countrymen,
and a lucky thing it was for them, as Lord
Glenarvan found it far
easier to give orders than to see them
executed, Paganel was still
unsuccessful in making himself understood.=
The CATAPEZ, as he was called in Chilian, =
had
two natives
called PEONS, and a boy about twelve years=
of
age under him.
The PEONS took care of the baggage mules, =
and
the boy led
the MADRINA, a young mare adorned with rat=
tle
and bells,
which walked in front, followed by ten mul=
es.
The travelers rode seven of these, and the
CATAPEZ another.
The remaining two carried provisions and a=
few
bales of goods,
intended to secure the goodwill of the
Caciques of the plain.
The PEONS walked, according to their usual
habit.
Every arrangement had been made to insure
safety and speed,
for crossing the Andes is something more t=
han
an ordinary journey.
It could not be accomplished without the h=
elp
of the hardy
mules of the far-famed Argentine breed.
in the country are much superior to their
progenitors.
They are not particular about their food, =
and
only drink once
a day, and they can go with ease ten leagu=
es
in eight hours.
There are no inns along this road from one
ocean to another.
The only viands on which travelers can reg=
ale
themselves are dried meat,
rice seasoned with pimento, and such game =
as
may be shot en route.
The torrents provide them with water in the
mountains, and the rivulets
in the plains, which they improve by the
addition of a few drops
of rum, and each man carries a supply of t=
his
in a bullock's horn,
called CHIFFLE. They have to be careful, however, =
not to
indulge too freely in alcoholic drinks, as=
the
climate itself
has a peculiarly exhilarating effect on the
nervous system.
As for bedding, it is all contained in the
saddle used by the natives,
called RECADO. This saddle is made of sheepskins,
tanned on one side
and woolly on the other, fastened by gorge=
ous
embroidered straps.
Wrapped in these warm coverings a traveler=
may
sleep soundly,
and brave exposure to the damp nights.
Glenarvan, an experienced traveler, who kn=
ew
how to adapt
himself to the customs of other countries,
adopted the Chilian
costume for himself and his whole party. Paganel and Robert,
both alike children, though of different
growth, were wild with delight
as they inserted their heads in the nation=
al
PONCHO, an immense
plaid with a hole in center, and their leg=
s in
high leather boots.
The mules were richly caparisoned, with the
Arab bit in their mouths,
and long reins of plaited leather, which
served as a whip;
the headstall of the bridle was decorated =
with
metal ornaments,
and the ALFORJAS, double sacks of gay colo=
red
linen,
containing the day's provisions. Paganel, DISTRAIT as usual,
was flung several times before he succeede=
d in
bestriding his
good steed, but once in the saddle, his
inseparable telescope on
his shoulder-belt, he held on well enough,
keeping his feet fast
in the stirrups, and trusting entirely to =
the
sagacity of his beast.
As for Robert, his first attempt at mounti=
ng
was successful,
and proved that he had the making in him o=
f an
excellent horseman.
The weather was splendid when they started,
the sky a deep
cloudless blue, and yet the atmosphere so
tempered by the sea
breezes as to prevent any feeling of
oppressive heat.
They marched rapidly along the winding sho=
re
of the bay of Talcahuano,
in order to gain the extremity of the
parallel, thirty miles south.
No one spoke much the first day, for the s=
moke
of the DUNCAN was still
visible on the horizon, and the pain of
parting too keenly felt.
Paganel talked to himself in Spanish, aski=
ng
and answering questions.
The CATAPEZ, moreover, was a taciturn man
naturally,
and had not been rendered loquacious by his
calling. He hardly
spoke to his PEONS. They understood their duties perfe=
ctly.
If one of the mules stopped, they urged it=
on
with a guttural cry,
and if that proved unavailing, a good-sized
pebble,
thrown with unerring aim, soon cured the
animal's obstinacy.
If a strap got loose, or a rein fell, a PE=
ON
came forward instantly,
and throwing off his poncho, flung it over=
his
beast's head
till the accident was repaired and the mar=
ch
resumed.
The custom of the muleteers is to start
immediately after breakfast,
about eight o'clock, and not to stop till =
they
camp for the night, about 4
P. M. Glenarvan fell in with the practice,=
and
the first halt was just
as they arrived at Arauco, situated at the
very extremity of the bay.
To find the extremity of the 37th degree of
latitude, they would have
required to proceed as far as the Bay of
Carnero, twenty miles further.
But the agents of Glenarvan had already
scoured that part of
the coast, and to repeat the exploration w=
ould
have been useless.
It was, therefore, decided that Arauco sho=
uld
be the point of departure,
and they should keep on from there toward =
the
east in a straight line.
Since the weather was so favorable, and the
whole party,
even Robert, were in perfect health, and
altogether
the journey had commenced under such favor=
able
auspices,
it was deemed advisable to push forward as
quickly as possible.
Accordingly, the next day they marched 35
miles or more,
and encamped at nightfall on the banks of =
Rio
Biobio. The country
still presented the same fertile aspect, a=
nd
abounded in flowers,
but animals of any sort only came in sight
occasionally,
and there were no birds visible, except a
solitary heron
or owl, and a thrush or grebe, flying from=
the
falcon.
Human beings there were none, not a native
appeared;
not even one of the GUASSOS, the degenerate
offspring of Indians
and Spaniards, dashed across the plain lik=
e a
shadow, his flying
steed dripping with blood from the cruel
thrusts inflicted by
the gigantic spurs of his master's naked
feet. It was absolutely
impossible to make inquiries when there wa=
s no
one to address,
and Lord Glenarvan came to the conclusion =
that
Captain Grant
must have been dragged right over the Andes
into the Pampas,
and that it would be useless to search for=
him
elsewhere.
The only thing to be done was to wait
patiently and press
forward with all the speed in their power.=
On the 17th they set out in the usual line=
of
march, a line which it
was hard work for Robert to keep, his ardor
constantly compelled
him to get ahead of the MADRINA, to the gr=
eat
despair of his mule.
Nothing but a sharp recall from Glenarvan =
kept
the boy in proper order.
The country now became more diversified, a=
nd
the rising
ground indicated their approach to a
mountainous district.
Rivers were more numerous, and came rushing
noisily down the slopes.
Paganel consulted his maps, and when he fo=
und
any of those streams
not marked, which often happened, all the =
fire
of a geographer
burned in his veins, and he would exclaim,
with a charming
air of vexation:
"A river which hasn't a name is like
having no civil standing.
It has no existence in the eye of geograph=
ical
law."
He christened them forthwith, without the
least hesitation,
and marked them down on the map, qualifying
them with the most
high-sounding adjectives he could find in =
the
Spanish language.
"What a language!" he said. "How full and sonorous it is!=
It is like the metal church bells are made
of--composed of
seventy-eight parts of copper and twenty-t=
wo
of tin."
"But, I say, do you make any progress=
in
it?" asked Glenarvan.
"Most certainly, my dear Lord. Ah, if it wasn't the accent,
that wretched accent!"
And for want of better work, Paganel whiled
away the time along the road
by practising the difficulties in
pronunciation, repeating all the
break-jaw words he could, though still mak=
ing
geographical observations.
Any question about the country that Glenar=
van
might ask the CATAPEZ
was sure to be answered by the learned
Frenchman before he could reply,
to the great astonishment of the guide, who
gazed at him in bewilderment.
About two o'clock that same day they came =
to a
cross road,
and naturally enough Glenarvan inquired th=
e name
of it.
"It is the route from Yumbel to Los
Angeles," said Paganel.
Glenarvan looked at the CATAPEZ, who repli=
ed:
"Quite right."
And then, turning toward the geographer, he
added:
"You have traveled in these parts bef=
ore,
sir?"
"Oh, yes," said Paganel, quite
gravely.
"On a mule?"
"No, in an easy chair."
The CATAPEZ could not make him out, but
shrugged his shoulders
and resumed his post at the head of the pa=
rty.
At five in the evening they stopped in a g=
orge
of no great depth,
some miles above the little town of Loja, =
and
encamped for the night
at the foot of the Sierras, the first step=
pes
of the great Cordilleras.
NOTHING of importance had occurred hithert=
o in
the passage through Chili;
but all the obstacles and difficulties
incident to a mountain journey
were about to crowd on the travelers now.<= o:p>
One important question had first to be
settled. Which pass would tak=
e
them over the
On questioning the CATAPEZ on the subject,=
he
replied:
"There are only two practicable passes
that I know of in this
part of the Cordilleras."
"The pass of Arica is one undoubtedly
discovered by Valdivia Mendoze,"
said Paganel.
"Just so."
"And that of Villarica is the other.&=
quot;
"Precisely."
"Well, my good fellow, both these pas=
ses
have only one fault;
they take us too far out of our route, eit=
her
north or south."
"Have you no other to propose?"
asked the Major.
"Certainly," replied Paganel.
of the volcano, in latitude, 37 degrees 30=
' ,
or, in other words,
only half a degree out of our way."
"That would do, but are you acquainted
with this pass
of Antuco, CATAPEZ?" said Glenarvan.<= o:p>
"Yes, your Lordship, I have been thro=
ugh
it, but I did not
mention it, as no one goes that way but the
Indian shepherds
with the herds of cattle."
"Oh, very well; if mares and sheep and
oxen can go that way,
we can, so let's start at once."
The signal for departure was given
immediately, and they struck into the
heart of the valley of Las Lejas, between
great masses of chalk crystal.
From this point the pass began to be
difficult, and even dangerous.
The angles of the declivities widened and =
the
ledges narrowed,
and frightful precipices met their gaze. The mules went cautiously along,
keeping their heads near the ground, as if
scenting the track.
They marched in file. Sometimes at a sudden bend of the =
road,
the MADRINA would disappear, and the little
caravan had to guide
themselves by the distant tinkle of her
bell. Often some capricious
winding would bring the column in two para=
llel
lines, and the CATAPEZ
could speak to his PEONS across a crevasse=
not
two fathoms wide,
though two hundred deep, which made between
them an inseparable gulf.
Glenarvan followed his guide step by
step. He saw that his perplex=
ity
was increasing as the way became more
difficult, but did not dare
to interrogate him, rightly enough, perhap=
s,
thinking that both mules
and muleteers were very much governed by
instinct, and it was best
to trust to them.
For about an hour longer the CATAPEZ kept
wandering about almost
at haphazard, though always getting higher=
up
the mountains.
At last he was obliged to stop short. They were in a narrow valley,
one of those gorges called by the Indians
"quebrads," and on reaching
the end, a wall of porphyry rose
perpendicularly before them,
and barred further passage. The CATAPEZ, after vain attempts
at finding an opening, dismounted, crossed=
his
arms, and waited.
Glenarvan went up to him and asked if he h=
ad
lost his way.
"No, your Lordship," was the rep=
ly.
"But you are not in the pass of
Antuco."
"We are."
"You are sure you are not mistaken?&q=
uot;
"I am not mistaken. See! there are the remains of a fi=
re
left
by the Indians, and there are the marks of=
the
mares and the sheep."
"They must have gone on then."
"Yes, but no more will go; the last
earthquake has made
the route impassable."
"To mules," said the Major,
"but not to men."
"Ah, that's your concern; I have done=
all
I could.
My mules and myself are at your service to=
try
the other passes
of the Cordilleras."
"And that would delay us?"
"Three days at least."
Glenarvan listened silently. He saw the CATAPEZ was right.
His mules could not go farther. When he talked of returning,
however, Glenarvan appealed to his compani=
ons
and said:
"Will you go on in spite of all the
difficulty?"
"We will follow your Lordship,"
replied Tom Austin.
"And even precede you," added
Paganel. "What is it aft=
er
all?
We have only to cross the top of the mount=
ain
chain, and once over,
nothing can be easier of descent than the
slopes we shall find there.
When we get below, we shall find BAQUEANOS,
Argentine shepherds,
who will guide us through the Pampas, and
swift horses accustomed
to gallop over the plains. Let's go forward then, I say, and
without
a moment's hesitation."
"Forward!" they all exclaimed. "You will not go with us,
then?"
said Glenarvan to the CATAPEZ.
"I am the muleteer," was the rep=
ly.
"As you please," said Glenarvan.=
"We can do without him," said
Paganel. "On the other s=
ide we
shall get back into the road to Antuco, and
I'm quite sure I'll
lead you to the foot of the mountain as
straight as the best
guide in the Cordilleras."
Accordingly, Glenarvan settled accounts wi=
th
the CATAPEZ,
and bade farewell to him and his PEONS and
mules.
The arms and instruments, and a small stoc=
k of
provisions were
divided among the seven travelers, and it =
was
unanimously agreed
that the ascent should recommence at once,
and, if necessary,
should continue part of the night. There was a very steep winding
path on the left, which the mules never wo=
uld
have attempted.
It was toilsome work, but after two hours'
exertion, and a great
deal of roundabout climbing, the little pa=
rty
found themselves
once more in the pass of Antuco.
They were not far now from the highest pea=
k of
the Cordilleras,
but there was not the slightest trace of a=
ny
beaten path.
The entire region had been overturned by
recent shocks of earthquake,
and all they could do was to keep on climb=
ing
higher and higher.
Paganel was rather disconcerted at finding=
no
way out to the other
side of the chain, and laid his account wi=
th
having to undergo
great fatigue before the topmost peaks of =
the
Andes could be reached,
for their mean height is between eleven and
twelve thousand six
hundred feet. Fortunately the weather was calm a=
nd the
sky clear,
in addition to the season being favorable,=
but
in Winter,
from May to October, such an ascent would =
have
been impracticable.
The intense cold quickly kills travelers, =
and
those who even manage
to hold out against it fall victims to the
violence of the TEMPORALES,
a sort of hurricane peculiar to those regi=
ons,
which yearly fills
the abysses of the Cordilleras with dead
bodies.
They went on toiling steadily upward all n=
ight,
hoisting themselves
up to almost inaccessible plateaux, and
leaping over broad,
deep crevasses. They had no ropes, but arms linked=
in
arms
supplied the lack, and shoulders served for
ladders. The strength
of Mulrady and the dexterity of Wilson wer=
e taxed
heavily now.
These two brave Scots multiplied themselve=
s,
so to speak.
Many a time, but for their devotion and
courage the small band could
not have gone on. Glenarvan never lost sight of young
Robert,
for his age and vivacity made him
imprudent. Paganel was a true=
Frenchman in his impetuous ardor, and hurr=
ied
furiously along.
The Major, on the contrary, only went as q=
uick
as was necessary,
neither more nor less, climbing without the
least apparent exertion.
Perhaps he hardly knew, indeed, that he was
climbing at all,
or perhaps he fancied he was descending.
The whole aspect of the region had now
completely changed. Huge bloc=
ks
of glittering ice, of a bluish tint on som=
e of
the declivities,
stood up on all sides, reflecting the early
light of morn.
The ascent became very perilous. They were obliged to reconnoiter
carefully before making a single step, on
account of the crevasses.
Wilson took the lead, and tried the ground
with his feet.
His companions followed exactly in his
footprints, lowering their voices
to a whisper, as the least sound would dis=
turb
the currents of air,
and might cause the fall of the masses of =
snow
suspended in the air
seven or eight hundred feet above their he=
ads.
They had come now to the region of shrubs =
and
bushes,
which, higher still, gave place to grasses=
and
cacti.
At 11,000 feet all trace of vegetation had
disappeared.
They had only stopped once, to rest and sn=
atch
a hurried meal to
recruit their strength. With superhuman courage,
the ascent was then resumed amid increasing
dangers and difficulties.
They were forced to bestride sharp peaks a=
nd
leap over chasms
so deep that they did not dare to look down
them. In many places
wooden crosses marked the scene of some gr=
eat
catastrophes.
About two o'clock they came to an immense
barren plain, without a
sign of vegetation. The air was dry and the sky unclou=
ded
blue.
At this elevation rain is unknown, and vap=
ors
only condense into
snow or hail. Here and there peaks of porphyry or
basalt pierced
through the white winding-sheet like the b=
ones
of a skeleton;
and at intervals fragments of quartz or
gneiss, loosened by the action
of the air, fell down with a faint, dull
sound, which in a denser
atmosphere would have been almost
imperceptible.
However, in spite of their courage, the
strength of the little band was
giving way. Glenarvan regretted they had gone =
so far
into the interior
of the mountain when he saw how exhausted =
his
men had become.
Young Robert held out manfully, but he cou=
ld
not go much farther.
At three o'clock Glenarvan stopped and sai=
d:
"We must rest."
He knew if he did not himself propose it, =
no
one else would.
"Rest?" rejoined Paganel; "=
we
have no place of shelter."
"It is absolutely necessary, however,=
if
it were only for Robert."
"No, no," said the courageous la=
d;
"I can still walk; don't stop."
"You shall be carried, my boy; but we
must get to the other side
of the Cordilleras, cost what it may. There we may perhaps find
some hut to cover us. All I ask is a two hours' longer
march."
"Are you all of the same opinion?&quo=
t;
said Glenarvan.
"Yes," was the unanimous reply:<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> and Mulrady added, "I'll carr=
y the
boy."
The march eastward was forthwith resumed.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> They had a
frightful height to climb yet to gain the
topmost peaks.
The rarefaction of the atmosphere produced
that painful oppression
known by the name of PUNA. Drops of blood stood on the gums
and lips, and respiration became hurried a=
nd
difficult.
However strong the will of these brave men
might be,
the time came at last when their physical
powers failed,
and vertigo, that terrible malady in the
mountains,
destroyed not only their bodily strength b=
ut
their moral energy.
Falls became frequent, and those who fell
could not rise again,
but dragged themselves along on their knee=
s.
But just as exhaustion was about to make s=
hort
work of any further ascent,
and Glenarvan's heart began to sink as he
thought of the snow lying far
as the eye could reach, and of the intense
cold, and saw the shadow
of night fast overspreading the desolate
peaks, and knew they had
not a roof to shelter them, suddenly the M=
ajor
stopped and said,
in a calm voice, "A hut!"
ANYONE else but McNabbs might have passed =
the
hut a hundred times,
and gone all round it, and even over it
without suspecting its existence.
It was covered with snow, and scarcely
distinguishable from
the surrounding rocks; but Wilson and Mulr=
ady
succeeded in digging
it out and clearing the opening after half=
an
hour's hard work,
to the great joy of the whole party, who
eagerly took possession of it.
They found it was a CASUCHA, constructed by
the Indians,
made of ADOBES, a species of bricks baked =
in
the sun.
Its form was that of a cube, 12 feet on ea=
ch
side, and it
stood on a block of basalt. A stone stair led up to the door,<= o:p>
the only opening; and narrow as this door =
was,
the hurricane,
and snow, and hail found their way in when=
the
TEMPORALES
were unchained in the mountains.
Ten people could easily find room in it, a=
nd
though the walls might be
none too water-tight in the rainy season, =
at
this time of the year,
at any rate, it was sufficient protection
against the intense cold,
which, according to the thermometer, was t=
en
degrees below zero.
Besides, there was a sort of fireplace in =
it,
with a chimney of bricks,
badly enough put together, certainly, but
still it allowed of a
fire being lighted.
"This will shelter us, at any rate,&q=
uot;
said Glenarvan, "even if
it is not very comfortable. Providence has led us to it,
and we can only be thankful."
"Why, it is a perfect palace, I call =
it,"
said Paganel;
"we only want flunkeys and
courtiers. We shall do capital
here."
"Especially when there is a good fire
blazing on the hearth,
for we are quite as cold as we are hungry. For my part, I would<= o:p>
rather see a good faggot just now than a s=
lice
of venison."
"Well, Tom, we'll try and get some
combustible or other," said Paganel.
"Combustibles on the top of the
Cordilleras!" exclaimed Mulrady,
in a dubious tone.
"Since there is a chimney in the
CASUCHA," said the Major,
"the probability is that we shall find
something to burn in it."
"Our friend McNabbs is right," s=
aid
Glenarvan. "Get everythi=
ng
in readiness for supper, and I'll go out a=
nd
turn woodcutter."
"Wilson and I will go with you,"
said Paganel.
"Do you want me?" asked Robert,
getting up.
"No, my brave boy, rest yourself. You'll be a man, when others
are only children at your age," repli=
ed
Glenarvan.
On reaching the little mound of porphyry,
Glenarvan and his
two companions left the CASUCHA. In spite of the perfect
calmness of the atmosphere, the cold was
stinging.
Paganel consulted his barometer, and found
that the depression
of the mercury corresponded to an elevatio=
n of
11,000 feet,
only 910 meters lower than Mont Blanc. But if these mountains
had presented the difficulties of the gian=
t of
the Swiss Alps,
not one of the travelers could have crossed
the great chain
of the New World.
On reaching a little mound of porphyry,
Glenarvan and Paganel
stopped to gaze about them and scan the
horizon on all sides.
They were now on the summit of the Nevadas=
of
the Cordilleras,
and could see over an area of forty
miles. The valley of the
Colorado was already sunk in shadow, and n=
ight
was fast drawing
her mantle over the eastern slopes of the
Andes. The western
side was illumined by the rays of the sett=
ing
sun, and peaks
and glaciers flashed back his golden beams
with dazzling radiance.
On the south the view was magnificent. Across the wild valley
of the Torbido, about two miles distant, r=
ose
the volcano
of Antuco. The mountain roared like some enor=
mous
monster,
and vomited red smoke, mingled with torren=
ts
of sooty flame.
The surrounding peaks appeared on fire.
clouds of reddish vapor and rockets of lav=
a,
all combined,
presented the appearance of glowing sparkl=
ing
streams.
The splendor of the spectacle increased ev=
ery
instant
as night deepened, and the whole sky became
lighted up with
a dazzling reflection of the blazing crate=
r,
while the sun,
gradually becoming shorn of his sunset
glories, disappeared like
a star lost in the distant darkness of the
horizon.
Paganel and Glenarvan would have remained =
long
enough gazing
at the sublime struggle between the fires =
of
earth and heaven,
if the more practical Wilson had not remin=
ded
them of the business
on hand.&=
nbsp;
There was no wood to be found, however, but fortunately
the rocks were covered with a poor, dry
species of lichen.
Of this they made an ample provision, as w=
ell
as of a plant
called LLARETTA, the root of which burns
tolerably well.
This precious combustible was carried back=
to
the CASUCHA
and heaped up on the hearth. It was a difficult matter
to kindle it, though, and still more to ke=
ep
it alight.
The air was so rarefied that there was
scarcely oxygen enough
in it to support combustion. At least, this was the reason
assigned by the Major.
"By way of compensation, however,&quo=
t;
he added, "water will boil
at less than 100 degrees heat. It will come to the point
of ebullition before 99 degrees."
McNabbs was right, as the thermometer prov=
ed,
for it was plunged into the
kettle when the water boiled, and the merc=
ury
only rose to 99 degrees.
Coffee was soon ready, and eagerly gulped =
down
by everybody.
The dry meat certainly seemed poor fare, a=
nd
Paganel couldn't help saying:
"I tell you what, some grilled llama
wouldn't be bad with this, would it?
They say that the llama is substitute for =
the
ox and the sheep,
and I should like to know if it is, in an
alimentary respect."
"What!" replied the Major. "You're not content with your
supper,
most learned Paganel."
"Enchanted with it, my brave Major; s=
till
I must confess I
should not say no to a dish of llama."=
;
"You are a Sybarite."
"I plead guilty to the charge. But come, now, though you call me =
that,
you wouldn't sulk at a beefsteak yourself,
would you?"
"Probably not."
"And if you were asked to lie in wait=
for
a llama, notwithstanding the
cold and the darkness, you would do it wit=
hout
the least hesitation?"
"Of course; and if it will give you t=
he
slightest pleasure--"
His companions had hardly time to thank him
for his obliging good nature,
when distant and prolonged howls broke on
their ear, plainly not
proceeding from one or two solitary animal=
s,
but from a whole troop,
and one, moreover, that was rapidly
approaching.
Providence had sent them a supper, as well=
as
led them to a hut.
This was the geographer's conclusion; but
Glenarvan damped his joy
somewhat by remarking that the quadrupeds =
of
the Cordilleras are
never met with in such a high latitude.
"Then where can these animals come
from?" asked Tom Austin.
"Don't you
hear them getting nearer!"
"An avalanche," suggested Mulrad=
y.
"Impossible," returned Paganel.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "That is regular howling.&quo=
t;
"Let us go out and see," said
Glenarvan.
"Yes, and be ready for hunting,"
replied McNabbs, arming himself
with his carbine.
They all rushed forthwith out of the
CASUCHA. Night had
completely set in, dark and starry. The moon, now in her
last quarter, had not yet risen. The peaks on the north and
east had disappeared from view, and nothing
was visible save
the fantastic SILHOUETTE of some towering
rocks here and there.
The howls, and clearly the howls of terrif=
ied
animals,
were redoubled. They proceeded from that part of t=
he
Cordilleras
which lay in darkness. What could be going on there?
Suddenly a furious avalanche came down, an
avalanche of living
animals mad with fear. The whole plateau seemed to trembl=
e.
There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of
these animals,
and in spite of the rarefied atmosphere, t=
heir
noise was deafening.
Were they wild beasts from the Pampas, or =
herds
of llamas and vicunas?
Glenarvan, McNabbs, Robert, Austin, and the
two sailors,
had just time to throw themselves flat on =
the
ground before
they swept past like a whirlwind, only a f=
ew
paces distant.
Paganel, who had remained standing, to take
advantage of his
peculiar powers of sight, was knocked down=
in
a twinkling.
At the same moment the report of firearms =
was
heard.
The Major had fired, and it seemed to him =
that
an animal had fallen
close by, and that the whole herd, yelling
louder than ever,
had rushed down and disappeared among the
declivities lighted
up by the reflection of the volcano.
"Ah, I've got them," said a voic=
e,
the voice of Paganel.
"Got what?" asked Glenarvan.
"My spectacles," was the reply.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "One might expect to lose tha=
t much
in such a tumult as this."
"You are not wounded, I hope?"
"No, only knocked down; but by
what?"
"By this," replied the Major,
holding up the animal he had killed.
They all hastened eagerly into the hut, to
examine McNabbs'
prize by the light of the fire.
It was a pretty creature, like a small cam=
el
without a hump.
The head was small and the body flattened,=
the
legs were long and slender,
the skin fine, and the hair the color of c=
afe
au lait.
Paganel had scarcely looked at it before he
exclaimed, "A guanaco!"
"What sort of an animal is that?"
asked Glenarvan.
"One you can eat."
"And it is good savory meat, I assure
you; a dish of Olympus! I kne=
w
we should have fresh meat for supper, and =
such
meat!
But who is going to cut up the beast?"=
;
"I will," said Wilson.
"Well, I'll undertake to cook it,&quo=
t;
said Paganel.
"Can you cook, then, Monsieur
Paganel?" asked Robert.
"I should think so, my boy. I'm a Frenchman, and in every Fren=
chman
there is a cook."
Five minutes afterward Paganel began to gr=
ill
large slices
of venison on the embers made by the use of
the LLARETTAS,
and in about ten minutes a dish was ready,
which he served up
to his companions by the tempting name of
guanaco cutlets.
No one stood on ceremony, but fell to with=
a
hearty good will.
To the absolute stupefaction of the
geographer, however,
the first mouthful was greeted with a gene=
ral
grimace,
and such exclamations as--"Tough!&quo=
t;
"It is horrible."
"It is not eatable."
The poor SAVANT was obliged to own that his
cutlets could not be relished,
even by hungry men. They began to banter him about his
"Olympian dish,"
and indulge in jokes at his expense; but a=
ll
he cared about was to find
out how it happened that the flesh of the
guanaco, which was certainly
good and eatable food, had turned out so b=
adly
in his hands.
At last light broke in on him, and he call=
ed
out:
"I see through it now! Yes, I see through it. I have found
out the secret now."
"The meat was too long kept, was
it?" asked McNabbs, quietly.
"No, but the meat had walked too much=
. How could I have forgotten that?&qu=
ot;
"What do you mean?" asked Tom
Austin.
"I mean this: the guanaco is only good for eatin=
g when
it is
killed in a state of rest. If it has been long hunted, and go=
ne
over much ground before it is captured, it=
is
no longer eatable.
I can affirm the fact by the mere taste, t=
hat
this animal has
come a great distance, and consequently the
whole herd has."
"You are certain of this?" asked
Glenarvan.
"Absolutely certain."
"But what could have frightened the
creatures so, and driven them
from their haunts, when they ought to have
been quietly sleeping?"
"That's a question, my dear Glenarvan=
, I
could not possibly answer.
Take my advice, and let us go to sleep wit=
hout
troubling our heads
about it.=
I say, Major, shall we go to sleep?"
"Yes, we'll go to sleep, Paganel.&quo=
t;
Each one, thereupon, wrapped himself up in=
his
poncho, and the fire
was made up for the night.
Loud snores in every tune and key soon
resounded from all sides of
the hut, the deep bass contribution of Pag=
anel
completing the harmony.
But Glenarvan could not sleep. Secret uneasiness kept
him in a continual state of wakefulness. His thoughts
reverted involuntarily to those frightened
animals flying
in one common direction, impelled by one
common terror.
They could not be pursued by wild beasts, =
for
at such an elevation
there were almost none to be met with, and=
of
hunters still fewer.
What terror then could have driven them am=
ong
the precipices
of the Andes? Glenarvan felt a presentiment of
approaching danger.
But gradually he fell into a half-drowsy
state, and his apprehensions
were lulled. Hope took the place of fear. He saw himself on the morrow
on the plains of the Andes, where the sear=
ch
would actually commence,
and perhaps success was close at hand. He thought of Captain Grant
and his two sailors, and their deliverance
from cruel bondage.
As these visions passed rapidly through his
mind, every now and then
he was roused by the crackling of the fire=
, or
sparks flying out,
or some little jet of flame would suddenly
flare up and illumine
the faces of his slumbering companions.
Then his presentiments returned in greater
strength than before,
and he listened anxiously to the sounds
outside the hut.
At certain intervals he fancied he could h=
ear
rumbling noises
in the distance, dull and threatening like=
the
mutter-ings
of thunder before a storm. There surely must be a storm ragin=
g
down below at the foot of the mountains. He got up and went
out to see.
The moon was rising. The atmosphere was pure and calm.<= o:p>
Not a cloud visible either above or
below. Here and there was
a passing reflection from the flames of
Antuco, but neither storm
nor lightning, and myriads of bright stars
studded the zenith.
Still the rumbling noises continued. They seemed to meet together
and cross the chain of the Andes. Glenarvan returned to the CASUCHA<= o:p>
more uneasy than ever, questioning within
himself as to the
connection between these sounds and the fl=
ight
of the guanacos.
He looked at his watch and found the time =
was
about two in the morning.
As he had no certainty, however, of any
immediate danger,
he did not wake his companions, who were
sleeping soundly
after their fatigue, and after a little do=
zed
off himself,
and slumbered heavily for some hours.
All of a sudden a violent crash made him s=
tart
to his feet.
A deafening noise fell on his ear like the
roar of artillery.
He felt the ground giving way beneath him,=
and
the CASUCHA
rocked to and fro, and opened.
He shouted to his companions, but they were
already awake,
and tumbling pell-mell over each other.
down a steep declivity. Day dawned and revealed a terrible
scene.
The form of the mountains changed in an instant. Cones were cut off.<= o:p>
Tottering peaks disappeared as if some trap
had opened at their base.
Owing to a peculiar phenomenon of the
Cordilleras, an enormous mass,
many miles in extent, had been displaced
entirely, and was speeding
down toward the plain.
"An earthquake!" exclaimed
Paganel. He was not mistaken.=
It was one of those cataclysms frequent in
Chili, and in
this very region where Copiapo had been tw=
ice
destroyed,
and Santiago four times laid in ruins in
fourteen years.
This region of the globe is so underlaid w=
ith
volcanic fires
and the volcanoes of recent origin are such
insufficient
safety valves for the subterranean vapors,
that shocks are of
frequent occurrence, and are called by the
people TREMBLORES.
The plateau to which the seven men were
clinging, holding on by tufts
of lichen, and giddy and terrified in the
extreme, was rushing down
the declivity with the swiftness of an
express, at the rate of fifty miles
an hour.&=
nbsp;
Not a cry was possible, nor an attempt to get off or stop.
They could not even have heard themselves
speak. The internal rumblings=
,
the crash of the avalanches, the fall of
masses of granite and basalt,
and the whirlwind of pulverized snow, made=
all
communication impossible.
Sometimes they went perfectly smoothly alo=
ng
without jolts or jerks,
and sometimes on the contrary, the plateau
would reel and roll like a ship
in a storm, coasting past abysses in which
fragments of the mountain
were falling, tearing up trees by the root=
s,
and leveling, as if with
the keen edge of an immense scythe, every
projection of the declivity.
How long this indescribable descent would
last, no one
could calculate, nor what it would end in
ultimately.
None of the party knew whether the rest we=
re
still alive, whether one
or another were not already lying in the
depths of some abyss.
Almost breathless with the swift motion,
frozen with the cold air,
which pierced them through, and blinded wi=
th
the whirling snow,
they gasped for breath, and became exhaust=
ed
and nearly inanimate,
only retaining their hold of the rocks by a
powerful instinct
of self-preservation. Suddenly a tremendous
shock pitched them
right off, and sent them rolling to the ve=
ry
foot of the mountain.
The plateau had stopped.
For some minutes no one stirred. At last one of the party
picked himself up, and stood on his feet,
stunned by the shock,
but still firm on his legs. This was the Major. He shook
off the blinding snow and looked around
him. His companions
lay in a close circle like the shots from a
gun that has just
been discharged, piled one on top of anoth=
er.
The Major counted them. All were there except one--that on=
e
was Robert Grant.
THE eastern side of the Cordilleras of the=
succession of lengthened declivities, which
slope down almost
insensibly to the plain. The soil is carpeted with rich her=
bage,
and adorned with magnificent trees, among
which, in great numbers,
were apple-trees, planted at the time of t=
he
conquest, and golden
with fruit. There were literally, perfect fore=
sts of
these.
This district was, in fact, just a corner =
of
fertile
The sudden transition from a desert to an
oasis, from snowy peaks
to verdant plains, from Winter to Summer, =
can
not fail to strike
the traveler's eye.
The ground, moreover, had recovered its
immobility.
The trembling had ceased, though there was
little doubt the forces
below the surface were carrying on their
devastating work further on,
for shocks of earthquake are always occurr=
ing
in some part or other
of the Andes. This time the shock had been one of
extreme violence.
The outline of the mountains was wholly
altered, and the Pampas
guides would have sought vainly for the
accustomed landmarks.
A magnificent day had dawned. The sun was just rising from his o=
cean
bed,
and his bright rays streamed already over =
the
Argentine plains,
and ran across to the Atlantic. It was about eight o'clock.
Lord Glenarvan and his companions were
gradually restored to animation by
the Major's efforts. They had been completely stunned, =
but
had sustained
no injury whatever. The descent of the Cordilleras was
accomplished;
and as Dame Nature had conveyed them at her
own expense, they could
only have praised her method of locomotion=
if
one of their number,
and that one the feeblest and youngest, the
child of the party,
had not been missing at the roll call.
The brave boy was beloved by everybody.
attached to him, and so was the Major, with
all his apparent coldness.
As for Glenarvan, he was in absolute despa=
ir
when he heard
of his disappearance, and pictured to hims=
elf
the child lying
in some deep abyss, wildly crying for succ=
or.
"We must go and look for him, and look
till we find him,"
he exclaimed, almost unable to keep back h=
is
tears.
"We cannot leave him to his fate. Every valley and
precipice and abyss must be searched throu=
gh
and through.
I will have a rope fastened round my waist,
and go down myself.
I insist upon it; you understand; I insist
upon it.
Heaven grant Robert may be still alive!
how could we ever dare to meet the
father? What right have we
to save the captain at the cost of his son=
's
life?"
Glenarvan's companions heard him in
silence. He sought to read
hope in their eyes, but they did not ventu=
re
to meet his gaze.
At last he said,
"Well, you hear what I say, but you m=
ake
no response.
Do you mean to tell me that you have no
hope--not the slightest?"
Again there was silence, till McNabbs aske=
d:
"Which of you can recollect when Robe=
rt
disappeared?"
No one could say.
"Well, then," resumed the Major,
"you know this at any rate.
Who was the child beside during our descen=
t of
the Cordilleras?"
"Beside me," replied Wilson.
"Very well. Up to what moment did you see him =
beside
you?
Try if you can remember."
"All that I can recollect is that Rob=
ert
Grant was still by my side,
holding fast by a tuft of lichen, less than
two minutes before the shock
which finished our descent."
"Less than two minutes? Mind what you are saying;
I dare say a minute seemed a very long tim=
e to
you.
Are you sure you are not making a
mistake?"
"I don't think I am. No; it was just about two minutes,=
as I tell you."
"Very well, then; and was Robert on y=
our
right or left?"
"On my left. I remember that his poncho brushed=
past
my face."
"And with regard to us, how were you
placed?"
"On the left also."
"Then Robert must have disappeared on
this side," said the Major,
turning toward the mountain and pointing
toward the right:
"and I should judge," he added,
"considering the time that
has elapsed, that the spot where he fell is
about two miles up.
Between that height and the ground is wher=
e we
must search,
dividing the different zones among us, and=
it
is there we
shall find him."
Not another word was spoken. The six men commenced their
explorations,
keeping constantly to the line they had ma=
de
in their descent,
examining closely every fissure, and going
into the very depths
of the abysses, choked up though they part=
ly
were with fragments
of the plateau; and more than one came out
again with garments torn
to rags, and feet and hands bleeding. For many long hours these brave
fellows continued their search without
dreaming of taking rest.
But all in vain. The child had not only met his dea=
th on
the mountain,
but found a grave which some enormous rock=
had
sealed forever.
About one o'clock, Glenarvan and his
companions met again in the valley.
Glenarvan was completely crushed with
grief. He scarcely spoke.
The only words that escaped his lips amid =
his
sighs were,
"I shall not go away! I shall not go away!"
No one of the party but could enter into h=
is
feeling, and respect it.
"Let us wait," said Paganel to t=
he
Major and Tom Austin. "W=
e will
take a little rest, and recruit our strength. We need it anyway,<= o:p>
either to prolong our search or continue o=
ur
route."
"Yes; and, as Edward wishes it, we wi=
ll
rest. He has still hope,
but what is it he hopes?"
"Who knows!" said Tom Austin.
"Poor Robert!" replied Paganel,
brushing away a tear.
The valley was thickly wooded, and the Maj=
or
had no difficulty in finding
a suitable place of encampment. He chose a clump of tall carob tre=
es,
under which they arranged their few
belongings--few indeed, for all they
had were sundry wraps and fire-arms, and a
little dried meat and rice.
Not far off there was a RIO, which supplied
them with water, though it
was still somewhat muddy after the disturb=
ance
of the avalanche.
Mulrady soon had a fire lighted on the gra=
ss,
and a warm refreshing
beverage to offer his master. But Glenarvan refused to touch it,=
and lay stretched on his poncho in a state=
of
absolute prostration.
So the day passed, and night came on, calm=
and
peaceful as the preceding
had been.=
While his companions were lying motionless, though wide awake,
Glenarvan betook himself once more to the
slopes of the Cordilleras,
listening intently in hope that some cry f=
or
help would fall
upon his ear. He ventured far up in spite of his=
being
alone,
straining his ear with painful eagerness to
catch the faintest sound,
and calling aloud in an agony of despair.<= o:p>
But he heard nothing save the beatings of =
his
own heart,
though he wandered all night on the mounta=
in. Sometimes the Major
followed him, and sometimes Paganel, ready=
to
lend a helping
hand among the slippery peaks and dangerous
precipices among
which he was dragged by his rash and usele=
ss
imprudence.
All his efforts were in vain, however, and=
to
his repeated
cries of "Robert, Robert!" echo =
was
the only response.
Day dawned, and it now became a matter of
necessity to go and bring
back the poor Lord from the distant platea=
u,
even against his will.
His despair was terrible. Who could dare to speak of quittin=
g this
fatal valley? Yet provisions were done, and Arge=
ntine
guides and
horses were not far off to lead them to the
Pampas. To go back would
be more difficult than to go forward. Besides, the Atlantic Ocean
was the appointed meeting place with the
DUNCAN. These were strong
reasons against any long delay; indeed it =
was
best for all parties
to continue the route as soon as possible.=
McNabbs undertook the task of rousing Lord
Glenarvan from his grief.
For a long time his cousin seemed not to h=
ear him. At last he shook
his head, and said, almost in-audibly:
"Did you say we must start?"
"Yes, we must start."
"Wait one hour longer."
"Yes, we'll wait another," repli=
ed
the Major.
The hour slipped away, and again Glenarvan
begged for longer grace.
To hear his imploring tones, one might have
thought him a criminal
begging a respite. So the day passed on till it was a=
lmost
noon.
McNabbs hesitated now no longer, but, acti=
ng
on the advice of the rest,
told his cousin that start they must, for =
all
their lives depended
on prompt action.
"Yes, yes!" replied Glenarvan. "Let us start, let us start!&=
quot;
But he spoke without looking at McNabbs. His gaze was
fixed intently on a certain dark speck in =
the
heavens.
Suddenly he exclaimed, extending his arm, =
and
keeping it motionless,
as if petrified:
"There! there! Look! look!"
All eyes turned immediately in the directi=
on
indicated so imperiously.
The dark speck was increasing visibly. It was evidently some bird
hovering above them.
"A condor," said Paganel.
"Yes, a condor," replied
Glenarvan. "Who knows? He is coming down--
he is gradually getting lower! Let us wait."
Paganel was not mistaken, it was assuredly=
a
condor.
This magnificent bird is the king of the
Southern Andes, and was
formerly worshiped by the Incas. It attains an extraordinary
development in those regions. Its strength is prodigious.
It has frequently driven oxen over the edg=
e of
precipices down into
the depths of abysses. It seizes sheep, and kids, and you=
ng
calves,
browsing on the plains, and carries them o=
ff
to inaccessible heights.
It hovers in the air far beyond the utmost
limits of human sight,
and its powers of vision are so great that=
it
can discern
the smallest objects on the earth beneath.=
What had this condor discovered then? Could it be the corpse
of Robert Grant? "Who knows?" repeated
Glenarvan, keeping his
eye immovably fixed on the bird. The enormous creature was
fast approaching, sometimes hovering for
awhile with outspread wings,
and sometimes falling with the swiftness of
inert bodies in space.
Presently he began to wheel round in wide
circles. They could
see him distinctly. He measured more than fifteen feet=
, and
his
powerful wings bore him along with scarcely
the slightest effort,
for it is the prerogative of large birds to
fly with calm majesty,
while insects have to beat their wings a
thousand times a second.
The Major and Wilson had seized their
carbines, but Glenarvan
stopped them by a gesture. The condor was encircling in his
flight a sort of inaccessible plateau abou=
t a
quarter of a mile
up the side of the mountain. He wheeled round and round with
dazzling rapidity, opening and shutting his
formidable claws,
and shaking his cartilaginous carbuncle, or
comb.
"It is there, there!" exclaimed
Glenarvan.
A sudden thought flashed across his mind, =
and
with a terrible cry,
he called out, "Fire! fire! Oh, suppose Robert were still aliv=
e!
That bird."
But it was too late. The condor had dropped out of sight
behind
the crags. Only a second passed, a second tha=
t seemed
an age,
and the enormous bird reappeared, carrying=
a
heavy load and flying
at a slow rate.
A cry of horror rose on all sides. It was a human body the condor
had in his claws, dangling in the air, and
apparently lifeless--
it was Robert Grant. The bird had seized him by his clo=
thes,
and had
him hanging already at least one hundred a=
nd
fifty feet in the air.
He had caught sight of the travelers, and =
was
flapping his
wings violently, endeavoring to escape with
his heavy prey.
"Oh! would that Robert were dashed to
pieces against the rocks,
rather than be a--"
He did not finish his sentence, but seizing
Wilson's carbine,
took aim at the condor. His arm was too trembling, however=
, to
keep
the weapon steady.
"Let me do it," said the Major.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> And with a calm eye,
and sure hands and motionless body, he aim=
ed
at the bird,
now three hundred feet above him in the ai=
r.
But before he had pulled the trigger the
report of a gun resounded from
the bottom of the valley. A white smoke rose from between two
masses
of basalt, and the condor, shot in the hea=
d,
gradually turned over and
began to fall, supported by his great wings
spread out like a parachute.
He had not let go his prey, but gently sank
down with it on the ground,
about ten paces from the stream.
"We've got him, we've got him,"
shouted Glenarvan; and without
waiting to see where the shot so
providentially came from,
he rushed toward the condor, followed by h=
is
companions.
When they reached the spot the bird was de=
ad,
and the body
of Robert was quite concealed beneath his
mighty wings.
Glenarvan flung himself on the corpse, and
dragging it from
the condor's grasp, placed it flat on the
grass, and knelt
down and put his ear to the heart.
But a wilder cry of joy never broke from h=
uman
lips, than Glenarvan
uttered the next moment, as he started to =
his
feet and exclaimed:
"He is alive! He is still alive!"
The boy's clothes were stripped off in an
instant, and his face
bathed with cold water. He moved slightly, opened his eyes=
,
looked round and murmured, "Oh, my
Lord! Is it you!"
he said; "my father!"
Glenarvan could not reply. He was speechless with emotion,
and kneeling down by the side of the child=
so
miraculously saved,
burst into tears.
ROBERT had no sooner escaped one terrible
danger than he ran
the risk of another scarcely less
formidable. He was almost
torn to pieces by his friends, for the bra=
ve
fellows were so
overjoyed at the sight of him, that in spi=
te
of his weak state,
none of them would be satisfied without
giving him a hug. However, it seemed as if good roug=
h
hugging did not hurt sick people; at any r=
ate
it did not hurt Robert,
but quite the contrary.
But the first joy of deliverance over, the
next thought was
who was the deliverer? Of course it was the Major who sug=
gested
looking for him, and he was not far off, f=
or
about fifty paces
from the RIO a man of very tall stature was
seen standing
motionless on the lowest crags at the foot=
of
the mountain.
A long gun was lying at his feet.
He had broad shoulders, and long hair bound
together with leather thongs.
He was over six feet in height. His bronzed face was red between t=
he
eyes
and mouth, black by the lower eyelids, and
white on the forehead.
He wore the costume of the Patagonians on =
the
frontiers, consisting of
a splendid cloak, ornamented with scarlet
arabesques, made of the skins
of the guanaco, sewed together with ostrich
tendons, and with the silky
wool turned up on the edge. Under this mantle was a garment of
fox-skin,
fastened round the waist, and coming down =
to a
point in front.
A little bag hung from his belt, containing
colors for painting his face.
His boots were pieces of ox hide, fastened
round the ankles
by straps, across.
This Patagonian had a splendid face,
indicating real intelligence,
notwithstanding the medley of colors by wh=
ich
it was disfigured.
His waiting attitude was full of dignity;
indeed, to see him standing
grave and motionless on his pedestal of ro=
cks,
one might have taken
him for a statue of sang-froid.
As soon as the Major perceived him, he poi=
nted
him out to Glenarvan,
who ran toward him immediately. The Patagonian came two steps
forward to meet him, and Glenarvan caught =
hold
of his hand
and pressed it in his own. It was impossible to mistake
the meaning of the action, for the noble f=
ace
of the Scotch
lord so beamed with gratitude that no words
were needed.
The stranger bowed slightly in return, and
said a few words
that neither Glenarvan nor the Major could
understand.
The Patagonian surveyed them attentively f=
or a
few minutes,
and spoke again in another language. But this second idiom
was no more intelligible than the first. Certain words,
however, caught Glenarvan's ear as sounding
like Spanish,
a few sentences of which he could speak.
ESPANOL?" he asked.
The Patagonian nodded in reply, a movement=
of
the head which has
an affirmative significance among all nati=
ons.
"That's good!" said the Major. "Our friend Paganel will be
the very man for him. It is lucky for us that he took it=
into his head to learn Spanish."
Paganel was called forthwith. He came at once, and saluted the
stranger
with all the grace of a Frenchman. But his compliments were lost
on the Patagonian, for he did not understa=
nd a
single syllable.
However, on being told how things stood, he
began in Spanish, and opening
his mouth as wide as he could, the better =
to
articulate, said:
"Vos sois um homen de bem." (You are a brave man.)
The native listened, but made no reply.
"He doesn't understand," said the
geographer.
"Perhaps you haven't the right accent=
,"
suggested the Major.
"That's just it! Confound the accent!"
Once more Paganel repeated his compliment,=
but
with no better success.
"I'll change the phrase," he sai=
d;
and in slow, deliberate tones
he went on, "Sam duvida um Patagao&qu=
ot;
(A Patagonian, undoubtedly).
No response still.
"DIZEIME!" said Paganel (Answer =
me).
But no answer came.
"Vos compriendeis?" (Do you
understand?) shouted Paganel,
at the very top of his voice, as if he wou=
ld
burst his throat.
Evidently the Indian did not understand, f=
or
he replied in Spanish,
"No comprendo" (I do not
understand).
It was Paganel's turn now to be amazed.
right down over his nose, as if greatly
irritated, and said,
"I'll be hanged if I can make out one
word of his infernal patois.
It is Araucanian, that's certain!"
"Not a bit of it!" said
Glenarvan. "It was Spani=
sh he
spoke."
And addressing the Patagonian, he repeated=
the
word, "ESPANOL?"
(Spanish?).
"Si, si" (yes, yes) replied the
Indian.
Paganel's surprise became absolute
stupefaction.
The Major and his cousin exchanged sly
glances, and McNabbs
said, mischievously, with a look of fun on=
his
face, "Ah, ah,
my worthy friend; is this another of your
misadventures?
You seem to have quite a monopoly of
them."
"What!" said Paganel, pricking up
his ear.
"Yes, it's clear enough the man speaks
Spanish."
"He!"
"Yes, he certainly speaks Spanish.
you have been studying all this time inste=
ad
of--"
But Paganel would not allow him to
proceed. He shrugged his shou=
lders,
and said stiffly,
"You go a little too far, Major."=
;
"Well, how is it that you don't
understand him then?"
"Why, of course, because the man spea=
ks
badly," replied the
learned geographer, getting impatient.
"He speaks badly; that is to say, bec=
ause
you can't understand him,"
returned the Major coolly.
"Come, come, McNabbs," put in
Glenarvan, "your supposition
is quite inadmissable. However DISTRAIT our friend Pagane=
l is,
it is hardly likely he would study one
language for another."
"Well, Edward--or rather you, my good
Paganel--explain it then."
"I explain nothing. I give proof. Here is the book I use daily,
to practice myself in the difficulties of =
the
Spanish language.
Examine it for yourself, Major," he s=
aid,
handing him a volume in a
very ragged condition, which he had brought
up, after a long rummage,
from the depths of one of his numerous
pockets. "Now you can se=
e
whether I am imposing on you," he
continued, indignantly.
"And what's the name of this book?&qu=
ot;
asked the Major, as he took
it from his hand.
"The LUSIADES, an admirable epic,
which--"
"The LUSIADES!" exclaimed Glenar=
van.
"Yes, my friend, the LUSIADES of the
great Camoens,
neither more nor less."
"Camoens!" repeated Glenarvan;
"but Paganel, my unfortunate fellow,
Camoens was a Portuguese! It is Portuguese you have been lea=
rning
for the last six weeks!"
"Camoens! LUISADES! Portuguese!" Paganel could not say more.
He looked vexed, while his companions, who=
had
all gathered round,
broke out in a furious burst of laughter.<= o:p>
The Indian never moved a muscle of his
face. He quietly awaited
the explanation of this incomprehensible
mirth.
"Fool, idiot, that I am!" at last
uttered Paganel. "Is it =
really
a fact?
You are not joking with me? It is what I have actually been do=
ing?
Why, it is a second confusion of tongues, =
like
Babel. Ah me!
alack-a-day! my friends, what is to become=
of
me? To start for India
and arrive at Chili! To learn Spanish and talk
Portuguese! Why, if I
go on like this, some day I shall be throw=
ing
myself out of the window
instead of my cigar!"
To hear Paganel bemoan his misadventures a=
nd
see his
comical discomfiture, would have upset
anyone's gravity.
Besides, he set the example himself, and s=
aid:
"Laugh away, my friends, laugh as lou=
d as
you like; you can't
laugh at me half as much as I laugh at
myself!"
"But, I say," said the Major, af=
ter
a minute, "this doesn't alter
the fact that we have no interpreter."=
;
"Oh, don't distress yourself about
that," replied Paganel, "Portuguese
and Spanish are so much alike that I made a
mistake; but this
very resemblance will be a great help towa=
rd
rectifying it.
In a very short time I shall be able to th=
ank
the Patagonian
in the language he speaks so well."
Paganel was right. He soon managed to exchange a few =
words
with
the stranger, and found out even that his =
name
was Thalcave, a word
that signified in Araucanian, "The
Thunderer." This surname=
had,
no doubt, come from his skill in handling
fire-arms.
But what rejoiced Glenarvan most was to le=
arn
that he was
a guide by occupation, and, moreover, a gu=
ide
across
the Pampas. To his mind, the meeting with him =
was so
providential,
that he could not doubt now of the success=
of
their enterprise.
The deliverance of Captain Grant seemed an
accomplished fact.
When the party went back to Robert, the boy
held out his arms
to the Patagonian, who silently laid his h=
and
on his head,
and proceeded to examine him with the grea=
test
care, gently feeling
each of his aching limbs. Then he went down to the RIO,
and gathered a few handfuls of wild celery,
which grew on the banks,
with which he rubbed the child's body all
over. He handled him
with the most exquisite delicacy, and his
treatment so revived
the lad's strength, that it was soon evide=
nt
that a few hours'
rest would set him all right.
It was accordingly decided that they should
encamp for the rest of the day
and the ensuing night. Two grave questions, moreover, had=
to be
settled:
where to get food, and means of
transport. Provisions and mul=
es
were
both lacking. Happily, they had Thalcave, howeve=
r, a
practised guide,
and one of the most intelligent of his
class. He undertook to find
all that was needed, and offered to take h=
im
to a TOLDERIA of Indians,
not further than four miles off at most, w=
here
he could get supplies
of all he wanted. This proposition was partly made by
gestures,
and partly by a few Spanish words which
Paganel managed to make out.
His offer was accepted, and Glenarvan and =
his
learned friend started
off with him at once.
They walked at a good pace for an hour and=
a
half, and had to make
great strides to keep up with the giant
Thalcave. The road lay
through a beautiful fertile region, abound=
ing
in rich pasturages;
where a hundred thousand cattle might have=
fed
comfortably.
Large ponds, connected by an inextricable
labyrinth of RIOS,
amply watered these plains and produced th=
eir
greenness.
Swans with black heads were disporting in =
the
water,
disputing possession with the numerous
intruders which
gamboled over the LLANOS. The feathered tribes were of most<= o:p>
brilliant plumage, and of marvelous variety
and deafening noise.
The isacus, a graceful sort of dove with g=
ray
feathers streaked
with white, and the yellow cardinals, were
flitting about
in the trees like moving flowers; while
overhead pigeons,
sparrows, chingolos, bulgueros, and mongit=
as,
were flying
swiftly along, rending the air with their
piercing cries.
Paganel's admiration increased with every
step, and he had nearly
exhausted his vocabulary of adjectives by =
his
loud exclamations,
to the astonishment of the Patagonian, to =
whom
the birds,
and the swans, and the prairies were every=
day
things.
The learned geographer was so lost in deli=
ght,
that he seemed hardly
to have started before they came in sight =
of
the Indian camp,
or TOLDERIA, situated in the heart of a
valley.
About thirty nomadic Indians were living t=
here
in rude cabins made of
branches, pasturing immense herds of milch
cows, sheep, oxen, and horses.
They went from one prairie to another, alw=
ays
finding a well-spread
table for their four-footed guests.
These nomads were a hybrid type of Araucan=
s,
Pehu-enches,
and Aucas. They were Ando-Peruvians, of an ol=
ive
tint, of medium
stature and massive form, with a low foreh=
ead,
almost circular face,
thin lips, high cheekbones, effeminate
features, and cold expression.
As a whole, they are about the least
interesting of the Indians.
However, it was their herds Glenarvan want=
ed,
not themselves.
As long as he could get beef and horses, he
cared for nothing else.
Thalcave did the bargaining. It did not take long. In exchange
for seven ready saddled horses of the
Argentine breed, 100 pounds
of CHARQUI, or dried meat, several measure=
s of
rice, and leather
bottles for water, the Indians agreed to t=
ake
twenty ounces of gold
as they could not get wine or rum, which t=
hey
would have preferred,
though they were perfectly acquainted with=
the
value of gold.
Glenarvan wished to purchase an eighth hor=
se
for the Patagonian,
but he gave him to understand that it woul=
d be
useless.
They got back to the camp in less than hal=
f an
hour, and were hailed with
acclamations by the whole party or rather =
the
provisions and horses were.
They were all hungry, and ate heartily of =
the
welcome viands. Robert took
a little food with the rest. He was fast recovering strength.
The close of the day was spent in complete
repose and pleasant talk
about the dear absent ones.
Paganel never quitted the Indian's side. It was not that he was
so glad to see a real Patagonian, by whom =
he
looked a perfect pigmy--
a Patagonian who might have almost rivaled=
the
Emperor Maximii,
and that Congo negro seen by the learned V=
an
der Brock,
both eight feet high; but he caught up Spa=
nish
phrases from
the Indian and studied the language withou=
t a
book this time,
gesticulating at a great rate all the grand
sonorous words
that fell on his ear.
"If I don't catch the accent," he
said to the Major, "it won't
be my fault; but who would have said to me
that it was a Patagonian
who would teach me Spanish one day?"<= o:p>
NEXT day, the 22d of October, at eight o'c=
lock
in the morning,
Thalcave gave the signal for departure.
degrees the Argentine soil slopes eastward,
and all the travelers
had to do was to follow the slope right do=
wn
to the sea.
Glenarvan had supposed Thalcave's refusal =
of a
horse was that
he preferred walking, as some guides do, b=
ut
he was mistaken,
for just as they were ready, the Patagonian
gave a peculiar whistle,
and immediately a magnificent steed of the
pure Argentine breed
came bounding out of a grove close by, at =
his
master's call.
Both in form and color the animal was of
perfect beauty. The Major,
who was a thorough judge of all the good
points of a horse, was loud
in admiration of this sample of the Pampas
breed, and considered that,
in many respects, he greatly resembled an
English hunter.
This splendid creature was called
"Thaouka," a word in Patagonia
which means bird, and he well deserved the
name.
Thalcave was a consummate horseman, and to=
see
him on his prancing
steed was a sight worth looking at. The saddle was adapted to the two<= o:p>
hunting weapons in common use on the Argen=
tine
plains--the BOLAS
and the LAZO. The BOLAS consists of three balls
fastened together
by a strap of leather, attached to the fro=
nt
of the RECADO. The Indians
fling them often at the distance of a hund=
red
feet from the animal
or enemy of which they are in pursuit, and
with such precision
that they catch round their legs and throw
them down in an instant.
It is a formidable weapon in their hands, =
and
one they handle
with surprising skill. The LAZO is always retained in the=
hand.
It is simply a rope, thirty feet long, mad=
e of
tightly twisted leather,
with a slip knot at the end, which passes
through an iron ring.
This noose was thrown by the right hand, w=
hile
the left keeps fast
hold of the rope, the other end of which is
fastened to the saddle.
A long carbine, in the shoulder belt compl=
eted
the accouterments
of the Patagonian.
He took his place at the head of the party,
quite unconscious of
the admiration he was exciting, and they s=
et
off, going alternately
at a gallop and walking pace, for the
"trot" seemed altogether
unknown to them. Robert proved to be a bold rider, =
and
completely
reassured Glenarvan as to his ability to k=
eep
his seat.
The Pampas commenced at the very foot of t=
he
Cordilleras. They may be
divided into three parts. The first extends from the chain o=
f the
Andes,
and stretches over an extent of 250 miles
covered with stunted trees
and bushes; the second 450 miles is clothed
with magnificent herbage,
and stops about 180 miles from Buenos Ayre=
s;
from this point to the sea,
the foot of the traveler treads over immen=
se
prairies of lucerne
and thistles, which constitute the third
division of the Pampas.
On issuing from the gorges of the Cordille=
ras,
Glenarvan and his band
came first to plains of sand, called MEDAN=
OS,
lying in ridges like waves
of the sea, and so extremely fine that the
least breath of wind agitated
the light particles, and sent them flying =
in
clouds, which rose and fell
like water-spouts. It was a spectacle which
caused both pleasure and pain,
for nothing could be more curious than to =
see
the said water-spouts
wandering over the plain, coming in contact
and mingling with each other,
and falling and rising in wild confusion; =
but,
on the other hand,
nothing could be more disagreeable than the
dust which was thrown off
by these innumerable MEDANOS, which was so
impalpable that close one's
eyes as they might, it found its way throu=
gh
the lids.
This phenomenon lasted the greater part of=
the
day.
The travelers made good progress, however,=
and
about four
o'clock the Cordilleras lay full forty mil=
es
behind them,
the dark outlines being already almost los=
t in
the evening mists.
They were all somewhat fatigued with the j=
ourney,
and glad
enough to halt for the night on the banks =
of
the Neuquem,
called Ramid, or Comoe by certain geograph=
ers,
a troubled,
turbulent rapid flowing between high red
banks.
No incident of any importance occurred that
night or the following day.
They rode well and fast, finding the ground
firm, and the
temperature bearable. Toward noon, however, the sun's ra=
ys
were
extremely scorching, and when evening came=
, a
bar of clouds streaked
the southwest horizon--a sure sign of a ch=
ange
in the weather.
The Patagonian pointed it out to the
geographer, who replied:
"Yes, I know;" and turning to his
companions, added, "see, a change
of weather is coming! We are going to have a taste of
PAMPERO."
And he went on to explain that this PAMPER=
O is
very common
in the Argentine plains. It is an extremely dry wind which =
blows
from the southwest. Thalcave was not mistaken, for the
PAMPERO blew
violently all night, and was sufficiently
trying to poor fellows
only sheltered by their ponchos. The horses lay down on the ground,=
and the men stretched themselves beside th=
em
in a close group.
Glenarvan was afraid they would be delayed=
by
the continuance of
the hurricane, but Paganel was able to
reassure him on that score,
after consulting his barometer.
"The PAMPERO generally brings a tempe=
st
which lasts three days,
and may be always foretold by the depressi=
on
of the mercury,"
he said.&=
nbsp;
"But when the barometer rises, on the contrary,
which is the case now, all we need expect =
is a
few violent blasts.
So you can make your mind easy, my good
friend; by sunrise
the sky will be quite clear again."
"You talk like a book, Paganel,"
replied Glenarvan.
"And I am one; and what's more, you a=
re
welcome to turn over my leaves
whenever you like."
The book was right. At one o'clock the wind suddenly l=
ulled,
and the weary men fell asleep and woke at
daybreak,
refreshed and invigorated.
It was the 20th of October, and the tenth =
day
since they had
left Talcahuano. They were still ninety miles from =
the
point
where the Rio Colorado crosses the
thirty-seventh parallel,
that is to say, about two days' journey. Glenarvan kept
a sharp lookout for the appearance of any
Indians, intending to
question them, through Thalcave, about Cap=
tain
Grant, as Paganel
could not speak to him well enough for
this. But the track
they were following was one little frequen=
ted
by the natives,
for the ordinary routes across the Pampas =
lie
further north.
If by chance some nomadic horseman came in
sight far away,
he was off again like a dart, not caring to
enter into conversation
with strangers. To a solitary individual, a little=
troop
of
eight men, all mounted and well armed, wor=
e a
suspicious aspect,
so that any intercourse either with honest=
men
or even banditti,
was almost impossible.
Glenarvan was regretting this exceedingly,
when he unexpectedly met
with a singular justification of his rende=
ring
of the eventful document.
In pursuing the course the travelers had l=
aid
down for themselves,
they had several times crossed the routes =
over
the plains in common use,
but had struck into none of them. Hitherto Thalcave had made no
remark about this. He understood quite well, however,=
that
they
were not bound for any particular town, or
village, or settlement.
Every morning they set out in a straight l=
ine
toward the rising sun,
and went on without the least deviation. Moreover, it must have
struck Thalcave that instead of being the
guide he was guided;
yet, with true Indian reserve, he maintain=
ed
absolute silence.
But on reaching a particular point, he che=
cked
his horse suddenly,
and said to Paganel:
"The Carmen route."
"Yes, my good Patagonian," repli=
ed
Paganel in his best Spanish;
"the route from Carmen to Mendoza.&qu=
ot;
"We are not going to take it?"
"No," replied Paganel.
"Where are we going then?"
"Always to the east."
"That's going nowhere."
"Who knows?"
Thalcave was silent, and gazed at the
geographer with an air
of profound surprise. He had no suspicion that Paganel w=
as
joking,
for an Indian is always grave.
"You are not going to Carmen, then?&q=
uot;
he added, after a moment's pause.
"No."
"Nor to Mendoza?"
"No, nor to Mendoza."
Just then Glenarvan came up to ask the rea=
son
of the stoppage,
and what he and Thalcave were discussing.<= o:p>
"He wanted to know whether we were go=
ing
to Carmen or Mendoza,
and was very much surprised at my negative
reply to both questions."
"Well, certainly, it must seem strang=
e to
him."
"I think so. He says we are going nowhere."=
;
"Well, Paganel, I wonder if it is
possible to make him
understand the object of our expedition, a=
nd
what our motive
is for always going east."
"That would be a difficult matter, fo=
r an
Indian knows nothing
about degrees, and the finding of the docu=
ment
would appear
to him a mere fantastic story."
"Is it the story he would not underst=
and,
or the storyteller?"
said McNabbs, quietly
"Ah, McNabbs, I see you have small fa=
ith
in my Spanish yet."
"Well, try it, my good friend."<= o:p>
"So I will."
And turning round to the Patagonian he beg=
an
his narrative,
breaking down frequently for the want of a
word,
and the difficulty of making certain detai=
ls
intelligible
to a half-civilized Indian. It was quite a sight to see
the learned geographer. He gesticulated and articulated,
and so worked himself up over it, that the=
big
drops of sweat
fell in a cascade down his forehead on to =
his
chest.
When his tongue failed, his arms were call=
ed
to aid.
Paganel got down on the ground and traced a
geographical map on
the sand, showing where the lines of latit=
ude
and longitude cross
and where the two oceans were, along which=
the
Carmen route led.
Thalcave looked on composedly, without giv=
ing
any indication
of comprehending or not comprehending.
The lesson had lasted half an hour, when t=
he
geographer left off,
wiped his streaming face, and waited for t=
he
Patagonian to speak.
"Does he understand?" said
Glenarvan.
"That remains to be seen; but if he
doesn't, I give it up,"
replied Paganel.
Thalcave neither stirred nor spoke. His eyes remained fixed on the lin=
es
drawn on the sand, now becoming fast effac=
ed
by the wind.
"Well?" said Paganel to him at
length.
The Patagonian seemed not to hear. Paganel fancied he could detect
an ironical smile already on the lips of t=
he
Major, and determined
to carry the day, was about to recommence =
his
geographical illustrations,
when the Indian stopped him by a gesture, =
and
said:
"You are in search of a prisoner?&quo=
t;
"Yes," replied Paganel.
"And just on this line between the
setting and rising sun?"
added Thalcave, speaking in Indian fashion=
of
the route from
west to east.
"Yes, yes, that's it."
"And it's your God," continued t=
he
guide, "that has sent you
the secret of this prisoner on the
waves."
"God himself."
"His will be accomplished then,"
replied the native almost solemnly.
"We will march east, and if it needs =
be,
to the sun."
Paganel, triumphing in his pupil, immediat=
ely
translated his replies
to his companions, and exclaimed:
"What an intelligent race! All my explanations would have bee=
n lost
on nineteen in every twenty of the peasant=
s in
my own country."
Glenarvan requested him to ask the Patagon=
ian
if he had heard
of any foreigners who had fallen into the
hands of the Indians
of the Pampas.
Paganel did so, and waited an answer.
"Perhaps I have."
The reply was no sooner translated than the
Patagonian found himself
surrounded by the seven men questioning him
with eager glances.
Paganel was so excited, he could hardly fi=
nd
words, and he gazed
at the grave Indian as if he could read the
reply on his lips.
Each word spoken by Thalcave was instantly
translated, so that the whole
party seemed to hear him speak in their mo=
ther
tongue.
"And what about the prisoner?" a=
sked
Paganel.
"He was a foreigner."
"You have seen him?"
"No; but I have heard the Indian spea=
k of
him. He is brave;
he has the heart of a bull."
"The heart of a bull!" said Paga=
nel. "Ah, this magnificent
Patagonian language. You understand him, my friends, he=
means
a courageous man."
"My father!" exclaimed Robert Gr=
ant,
and, turning to Paganel,
he asked what the Spanish was for, "I=
s it
my father."
"Es mio padre," replied the
geographer.
Immediately taking Thalcave's hands in his
own, the boy said,
in a soft tone:
"Es mio padre."
"Suo padre," replied the Patagon=
ian,
his face lighting up.
He took the child in his arms, lifted him =
up
on his horse,
and gazed at him with peculiar sympathy. His intelligent face
was full of quiet feeling.
But Paganel had not completed his
interrogations. "This
prisoner,
who was he? What was he doing? When had Thalcave heard of him?&qu=
ot;
All these questions poured upon him at onc=
e.
He had not long to wait for an answer, and
learned that the European
was a slave in one of the tribes that roam=
ed
the country between
the Colorado and the Rio Negro.
"But where was the last place he was
in?"
"With the Cacique Calfoucoura."<= o:p>
"In the line we have been
following?"
"Yes."
"And who is this Cacique?"
"The chief of the Poyuches Indians, a=
man
with two tongues
and two hearts."
"That's to say false in speech and fa=
lse
in action," said Paganel,
after he had translated this beautiful fig=
ure
of the Patagonian language.
"And can we deliver our friend?"=
he
added.
"You may if he is still in the hands =
of
the Indians."
"And when did you last hear of him?&q=
uot;
"A long while ago; the sun has brought
two summers since then
to the Pampas."
The joy of Glenarvan can not be described. This reply agreed<= o:p>
perfectly with the date of the document. But one question still
remained for him to put to Thalcave.
"You spoke of a prisoner," he sa=
id;
"but were there not three?"
"I don't know," said Thalcave.
"And you know nothing of his present
situation?"
"Nothing."
This ended the conversation. It was quite possible that the thr=
ee men
had become separated long ago; but still t=
his
much was certain,
that the Indians had spoken of a European =
that
was in their power;
and the date of the captivity, and even the
descriptive phrase
about the captive, evidently pointed to Ha=
rry
Grant.
THE Argentine Pampas extend from the
thirty-fourth to the fortieth
degree of southern latitude. The word
signifies grass plain, and justly applies =
to
the whole region.
The mimosas growing on the western part, a=
nd
the substantial
herbage on the eastern, give those plains a
peculiar appearance.
The soil is composed of sand and red or ye=
llow
clay, and this is
covered by a layer of earth, in which the
vegetation takes root.
The geologist would find rich treasures in=
the
tertiary strata here,
for it is full of antediluvian
remains--enormous bones,
which the Indians attribute to some gigant=
ic race
that lived
in a past age.
The horses went on at a good pace through =
the
thick
PAJA-BRAVA, the grass of the Pampas, par
excellence, so high
and thick that the Indians find shelter in=
it
from storms.
At certain distances, but increasingly sel=
dom,
there were wet,
marshy spots, almost entirely under water,
where the
willows grew, and a plant called the Gygne=
rium
argenteum.
Here the horses drank their fill greedily,=
as
if bent
on quenching their thirst for past, present
and future.
Thalcave went first to beat the bushes and
frighten away
the cholinas, a most dangerous species of
viper, the bite
of which kills an ox in less than an hour.=
For two days they plodded steadily across =
this
arid and deserted plain.
The dry heat became severe. There were not only no RIOS,
but even the ponds dug out by the Indians =
were
dried up.
As the drought seemed to increase with eve=
ry
mile, Paganel asked
Thalcave when he expected to come to water=
.
"At Lake Salinas," replied the
Indian.
"And when shall we get there?"
"To-morrow evening."
When the Argentines travel in the Pampas t=
hey
generally dig wells,
and find water a few feet below the
surface. But the travelers co=
uld
not fall back on this resource, not having=
the
necessary implements.
They were therefore obliged to husband the
small provision of water
they had still left, and deal it out in
rations, so that if no one
had enough to satisfy his thirst no one fe=
lt
it too painful.
They halted at evening after a course of
thirty miles and eagerly looked
forward to a good night's rest to compensa=
te
for the fatigue of day.
But their slumbers were invaded by a swarm=
of
mosquitoes, which allowed
them no peace. Their presence indicated a change =
of
wind which shifted
to the north. A south or southwest wind generall=
y puts
to flight
these little pests.
Even these petty ills of life could not ru=
ffle
the Major's equanimity;
but Paganel, on the contrary, was perfectly
exasperated by such
trifling annoyances. He abused the poor mosquitoes
desperately,
and deplored the lack of some acid lotion
which would have eased
the pain of their stings. The Major did his best to console<= o:p>
him by reminding him of the fact that they=
had
only to do with
one species of insect, among the 300,000
naturalists reckon.
He would listen to nothing, and got up in a
very bad temper.
He was quite willing to start at daybreak,
however, for they had
to get to Lake Salinas before sundown. The horses were tired out
and dying for water, and though their ride=
rs
had stinted themselves
for their sakes, still their ration was ve=
ry
insufficient.
The drought was constantly increasing, and=
the
heat none the less
for the wind being north, this wind being =
the
simoom of the Pampas.
There was a brief interruption this day to=
the
monotony
of the journey. Mulrady, who was in front of the o=
thers,
rode hastily back to report the approach o=
f a
troop
of Indians. The news was received with very
different feelings
by Glenarvan and Thalcave. The Scotchman was glad of the chan=
ce
of gleaning some information about his
shipwrecked countryman,
while the Patagonian hardly cared to encou=
nter
the nomadic
Indians of the prairie, knowing their band=
it
propensities.
He rather sought to avoid them, and gave
orders to his party
to have their arms in readiness for any
trouble.
Presently the nomads came in sight, and the
Patagonian
was reassured at finding they were only te=
n in
number.
They came within a hundred yards of them, =
and
stopped.
This was near enough to observe them
distinctly.
They were fine specimens of the native rac=
es,
which had
been almost entirely swept away in 1833 by
General Rosas,
tall in stature, with arched forehead and
olive complexion.
They were dressed in guanaco skins, and
carried lances twenty
feet long, knives, slings, bolas, and lass=
os,
and, by their
dexterity in the management of their horse=
s,
showed themselves
to be accomplished riders.
They appeared to have stopped for the purp=
ose
of holding a council
with each other, for they shouted and
gesticulated at a great rate.
Glenarvan determined to go up to them; but=
he
had no sooner moved forward
than the whole band wheeled round, and
disappeared with incredible speed.
It would have been useless for the travele=
rs
to attempt to overtake
them with such wornout horses.
"The cowards!" exclaimed Paganel=
.
"They scampered off too quick for hon=
est
folks," said McNabbs.
"Who are these Indians, Thalcave?&quo=
t;
asked Paganel.
"Gauchos."
"The Gauchos!" cried Paganel; an=
d,
turning to his companions,
he added, "we need not have been so m=
uch
on our guard;
there was nothing to fear."
"How is that?" asked McNabbs.
"Because the Gauchos are inoffensive
peasants."
"You believe that, Paganel?"
"Certainly I do. They took us for robbers, and fled=
in
terror."
"I rather think they did not dare to
attack us," replied Glenarvan,
much vexed at not being able to enter into
some sort of communication
with those Indians, whatever they were.
"That's my opinion too," said the
Major, "for if I am
not mistaken, instead of being harmless, t=
he
Gauchos are
formidable out-and-out bandits."
"The idea!" exclaimed Paganel.
And forthwith commenced a lively discussio=
n of
this ethnological thesis--
so lively that the Major became excited, a=
nd,
quite contrary to his
usual suavity, said bluntly:
"I believe you are wrong, Paganel.&qu=
ot;
"Wrong?" replied Paganel.
"Yes. Thalcave took them for robbers, an=
d he
knows what
he is talking about."
"Well, Thalcave was mistaken this
time," retorted Paganel,
somewhat sharply. "The Gauchos are agricul-turi=
sts
and shepherds,
and nothing else, as I have stated in a
pamphlet on the natives
of the Pampas, written by me, which has
attracted some notice."
[illustration omitted] [page intentionally
blank]
"Well, well, you have committed an er=
ror,
that's all, Monsieur Paganel."
"What, Monsieur McNabbs! you tell me I
have committed an error?"
"An inadvertence, if you like, which =
you
can put among the ERRATA
in the next edition."
Paganel, highly incensed at his geographic=
al
knowledge being brought
in question, and even jested about, allowed
his ill-humor to get
the better of him, and said:
"Know, sir, that my books have no nee=
d of
such ERRATA."
"Indeed! Well, on this occasion they have, =
at any
rate,"
retorted McNabbs, quite as obstinate as his
opponent.
"Sir, I think you are very annoying
to-day."
"And I think you are very crabbed.&qu=
ot;
Glenarvan thought it was high time to
interfere, for the discussion
was getting too hot, so he said:
"Come, now, there is no doubt one of =
you
is very teasing and the other
is very crabbed, and I must say I am surpr=
ised
at both of you."
The Patagonian, without understanding the
cause, could see
that the two friends were quarreling. He began to smile,
and said quietly:
"It's the north wind."
"The north wind," exclaimed Paga=
nel;
"what's the north wind
to do with it?"
"Ah, it is just that," said
Glenarvan. "It's the nor=
th
wind that has
put you in a bad temper. I have heard that, in South Americ=
a,
the wind greatly irritates the nervous
system."
"By St. Patrick, Edward you are
right," said the Major, laughing heartily.
But Paganel, in a towering rage, would not
give up the contest,
and turned upon Glenarvan, whose intervent=
ion
in this jesting
manner he resented.
"And so, my Lord, my nervous system is
irritated?" he said.
"Yes, Paganel, it is the north wind--a
wind which causes many a crime
in the Pampas, as the TRAMONTANE does in t=
he
Campagna of Rome."
"Crimes!" returned the
geographer. "Do I look l=
ike a
man
that would commit crimes?"
"That's not exactly what I said."=
;
"Tell me at once that I want to
assassinate you?"
"Well, I am really afraid," repl=
ied
Glenarvan, bursting into
an uncontrollable fit of laughter, in which
all others joined.
Paganel said no more, but went off in front
alone, and came
back in a few minutes quite himself, as if=
he
had completely
forgotten his grievance.
At eight o'clock in the evening, Thalcave,=
who
was considerably in
advance of the rest, descried in the dista=
nce
the much-desired lake,
and in less than a quarter of an hour they
reached its banks;
but a grievous disappointment awaited
them--the lake was dried up.
and Guamini. Numerous expeditions were formerly=
made
there from
Buenos Ayres, to collect the salt deposite=
d on
its banks, as the waters
contain great quantities of chloride of
sodium.
But when Thalcave spoke of the lake as
supplying drinkable water
he was thinking of the RIOS of fresh water
which run into it.
Those streams, however, were all dried up
also; the burning
sun had drunk up every thing liquid, and t=
he
consternation
of the travelers may be imagined at the
discovery.
Some action must be taken immediately,
however; for what little water
still remained was almost bad, and could n=
ot
quench thirst. Hunger and
fatigue were forgotten in the face of this
imperious necessity.
A sort of leather tent, called a ROUKAH, w=
hich
had been left
by the natives, afforded the party a tempo=
rary
resting-place,
and the weary horses stretched themselves
along the muddy banks,
and tried to browse on the marine plants a=
nd
dry reeds they found there--
nauseous to the taste as they must have be=
en.
As soon as the whole party were ensconced =
in
the ROUKAH, Paganel
asked Thalcave what he thought was best to=
be
done.
A rapid conversation followed, a few words=
of
which were
intelligible to Glenarvan. Thalcave spoke calmly,
but the lively Frenchman gesticulated enou=
gh
for both.
After a little, Thalcave sat silent and fo=
lded
his arms.
"What does he say?" asked
Glenarvan. "I fancied he=
was
advising
us to separate."
"Yes, into two parties. Those of us whose horses are so do=
ne out
with
fatigue and thirst that they can scarcely =
drag
one leg after the other,
are to continue the route as they best can,
while the others, whose steeds
are fresher, are to push on in advance tow=
ard
the river Guamini,
which throws itself into Lake San Lucas ab=
out
thirty-one miles off.
If there should be water enough in the riv=
er,
they are to wait on
the banks till their companions reach them;
but should it be dried up,
they will hasten back and spare them a use=
less
journey."
"And what will we do then?" asked
Austin.
"Then we shall have to make up our mi=
nds
to go seventy-two
miles south, as far as the commencement of=
the
Sierra Ventana,
where rivers abound."
"It is wise counsel, and we will act =
upon
it without loss of time.
My horse is in tolerable good trim, and I
volunteer
to accompany Thalcave."
"Oh, my Lord, take me," said Rob=
ert,
as if it were a question
of some pleasure party.
"But would you be able for it, my
boy?"
"Oh, I have a fine beast, which just
wants to have a gallop.
Please, my Lord, to take me."
"Come, then, my boy," said
Glenarvan, delighted not to leave
Robert behind. "If we three don't manage to =
find
out fresh
water somewhere," he added, "we =
must
be very stupid."
"Well, well, and what about me?"
said Paganel.
"Oh, my dear Paganel, you must stay w=
ith
the reserve corps,"
replied the Major. "You are too well acquainted =
with
the 37th parallel
and the river Guamini and the whole Pampas=
for
us to let you go.
Neither Mulrady, nor Wilson, nor myself wo=
uld
be able to rejoin
Thalcave at the given rendezvous, but we w=
ill
put ourselves under
the banner of the brave Jacques Paganel wi=
th
perfect confidence."
"I resign myself," said the
geographer, much flattered at
having supreme command.
"But mind, Paganel, no
distractions," added the Major.
"Don't you take
us to the wrong place--to the borders of t=
he
Pacific, for instance."
"Oh, you insufferable Major; it would
serve you right,"
replied Paganel, laughing. "But how will you manage to u=
nderstand
what Thalcave says, Glenarvan?" he
continued.
"I suppose," replied Glenarvan,
"the Patagonian and I won't have
much to talk about; besides, I know a few
Spanish words, and,
at a pinch, I should not fear either making
him understand me,
or my understanding him."
"Go, then, my worthy friend," sa=
id
Paganel.
"We'll have supper first," rejoi=
ned
Glenarvan, "and then sleep,
if we can, till it is starting time."=
The supper was not very reviving without d=
rink
of any kind,
and they tried to make up for the lack of =
it
by a good sleep.
But Paganel dreamed of water all night, of
torrents and cascades,
and rivers and ponds, and streams and
brooks--in fact,
he had a complete nightmare.
Next morning, at six o'clock, the horses of
Thalcave, Glenarvan and Robert
were got ready. Their last ration of water was giv=
en
them, and drunk
with more avidity than satisfaction, for it
was filthy, disgusting stuff.
The three travelers then jumped into their
saddles, and set off,
shouting "Au revoir!" to their
companions.
"Don't come back whatever you do,&quo=
t;
called Paganel after them.
The Desertio de las Salinas, which they ha=
d to
traverse,
is a dry plain, covered with stunted trees=
not
above ten
feet high, and small mimosas, which the
Indians call
curra-mammel; and JUMES, a bushy shrub, ri=
ch
in soda.
Here and there large spaces were covered w=
ith
salt,
which sparkled in the sunlight with
astonishing brilliancy.
These might easily have been taken for she=
ets
of ice, had not
the intense heat forbidden the illusion; a=
nd
the contrast these
dazzling white sheets presented to the dry,
burned-up ground
gave the desert a most peculiar
character. Eighty miles south=
,
on the contrary, the Sierra Ventana, toward
which the travelers
might possibly have to betake themselves
should the Guamini
disappoint their hopes, the landscape was
totally different.
There the fertility is splendid; the pastu=
rage
is incomparable.
Unfortunately, to reach them would necessi=
tate
a march of one
hundred and thirty miles south; and this w=
as
why Thalcave thought
it best to go first to Guamini, as it was =
not
only much nearer,
but also on the direct line of route.
The three horses went forward might and ma=
in,
as if instinctively
knowing whither they were bound. Thaouka especially displayed
a courage that neither fatigue nor hunger
could damp. He bounded
like a bird over the dried-up CANADAS and =
the
bushes of CURRA-MAMMEL,
his loud, joyous neighing seeming to bode
success to the search.
The horses of Glenarvan and Robert, though=
not
so light-footed,
felt the spur of his example, and followed=
him
bravely.
Thalcave inspirited his companions as much=
as
Thaouka did his
four-footed brethren. He sat motionless in the saddle, b=
ut
often
turned his head to look at Robert, and ever
and anon gave him
a shout of encouragement and approval, as =
he
saw how well he rode.
Certainly the boy deserved praise, for he =
was
fast becoming
an excellent cavalier.
"Bravo! Robert," said Glenarvan. "Thalcave is evidently
congratulating you, my boy, and paying you
compliments."
"What for, my Lord?"
"For your good horsemanship."
"I can hold firm on, that's all,"
replied Robert blushing with pleasure
at such an encomium.
"That is the principal thing, Robert;=
but
you are too modest.
I tell you that some day you will turn out=
an
accomplished horseman."
"What would papa say to that?" s=
aid
Robert, laughing.
"He wants me to be a sailor."
"The one won't hinder the other. If all cavaliers wouldn't make
good sailors, there is no reason why all
sailors should not make
good horsemen. To keep one's footing on the yards=
must
teach
a man to hold on firm; and as to managing =
the
reins, and making
a horse go through all sorts of movements,
that's easily acquired.
Indeed, it comes naturally."
"Poor father," said Robert;
"how he will thank you for saving his life."
"You love him very much, Robert?"=
;
"Yes, my Lord, dearly. He was so good to me and my sister=
.
We were his only thought: and whenever he came home from
his voyages, we were sure of some SOUVENIR
from all the places
he had been to; and, better still, of lovi=
ng
words and caresses.
Ah! if you knew him you would love him,
too. Mary is most like him.
He has a soft voice, like hers. That's strange for a sailor, isn't
it?"
"Yes, Robert, very strange."
"I see him still," the boy went =
on,
as if speaking to himself.
"Good, brave papa. He put me to sleep on his knee,
crooning an old Scotch ballad about the lo=
chs
of our country.
The time sometimes comes back to me, but v=
ery
confused like.
So it does to Mary, too. Ah, my Lord, how we loved him.
Well, I do think one needs to be little to
love one's
father like that."
"Yes, and to be grown up, my child, to
venerate him," replied Glenarvan,
deeply touched by the boy's genuine affect=
ion.
During this conversation the horses had be=
en
slackening speed,
and were only walking now.
"You will find him?" said Robert
again, after a few minutes' silence.
"Yes, we'll find him," was
Glenarvan's reply, "Thalcave has set
us on the track, and I have great confiden=
ce
in him."
"Thalcave is a brave Indian, isn't
he?" said the boy.
"That indeed he is."
"Do you know something, my Lord?"=
;
"What is it, and then I will tell
you?"
"That all the people you have with you
are brave.
Lady Helena, whom I love so, and the Major,
with his calm manner,
and Captain Mangles, and Monsieur Paganel,=
and
all the sailors
on the DUNCAN. How courageous and devoted they
are."
"Yes, my boy, I know that," repl=
ied
Glenarvan.
"And do you know that you are the bes=
t of
all."
"No, most certainly I don't know
that."
"Well, it is time you did, my Lord,&q=
uot;
said the boy, seizing his
lordship's hand, and covering it with kiss=
es.
Glenarvan shook his head, but said no more=
, as
a gesture from Thalcave
made them spur on their horses and hurry
forward.
But it was soon evident that, with the
exception of Thaouka,
the wearied animals could not go quicker t=
han
a walking pace.
At noon they were obliged to let them rest=
for
an hour.
They could not go on at all, and refused to
eat the ALFAFARES,
a poor, burnt-up sort of lucerne that grew
there.
Glenarvan began to be uneasy. Tokens of sterility were not the l=
east
on the decrease, and the want of water mig=
ht
involve serious calamities.
Thalcave said nothing, thinking probably, =
that
it would be time enough
to despair if the Guamini should be dried
up--if, indeed, the heart
of an Indian can ever despair.
Spur and whip had both to be employed to
induce the poor
animals to resume the route, and then they
only crept along,
for their strength was gone.
Thaouka, indeed, could have galloped swift=
ly
enough, and reached the RIO
in a few hours, but Thalcave would not lea=
ve
his companions behind,
alone in the midst of a desert.
It was hard work, however, to get the anim=
al
to consent to walk quietly.
He kicked, and reared, and neighed violent=
ly,
and was subdued
at last more by his master's voice than
hand. Thalcave positively
talked to the beast, and Thaouka understood
perfectly, though unable
to reply, for, after a great deal of argui=
ng,
the noble creature yielded,
though he still champed the bit.
Thalcave did not understand Thaouka, it tu=
rned
out, though Thaouka
understood him. The intelligent animal felt humidi=
ty in
the atmosphere
and drank it in with frenzy, moving and ma=
king
a noise with his tongue,
as if taking deep draughts of some cool
refreshing liquid.
The Patagonian could not mistake him
now--water was not far off.
The two other horses seemed to catch their
comrade's meaning,
and, inspired by his example, made a last
effort, and galloped
forward after the Indian.
About three o'clock a white line appeared =
in a
dip of the road,
and seemed to tremble in the sunlight.
"Water!" exclaimed Glenarvan.
"Yes, yes! it is water!" shouted
Robert.
They were right; and the horses knew it to=
o,
for there was no
need now to urge them on; they tore over t=
he
ground as if mad,
and in a few minutes had reached the river,
and plunged in up
to their chests.
Their masters had to go on too, whether th=
ey
would or not but
they were so rejoiced at being able to que=
nch
their thirst,
that this compulsory bath was no grievance=
.
"Oh, how delicious this is!"
exclaimed Robert, taking a deep draught.
"Drink moderately, my boy," said
Glenarvan; but he did not
set the example.
Thalcave drank very quietly, without hurry=
ing
himself,
taking small gulps, but "as long as a
lazo," as the Patagonians say.
He seemed as if he were never going to lea=
ve
off, and really
there was some danger of his swallowing up=
the
whole river.
At last Glenarvan said:
"Well, our friends won't be disappoin=
ted
this time; they will
be sure of finding clear, cool water when =
they
get here--
that is to say, if Thalcave leaves any for
them."
"But couldn't we go to meet them? It would spare them several hours'=
suffering and anxiety."
"You're right my boy; but how could we
carry them this water?
The leather bottles were left with Wilson.=
No; it is better
for us to wait for them as we agreed. They can't be here till
about the middle of the night, so the best
thing we can do is
to get a good bed and a good supper ready =
for
them."
Thalcave had not waited for Glenarvan's
proposition to prepare
an encampment. He had been fortunate enough to di=
scover
on the banks
of the rio a ramada, a sort of enclosure,
which had served as a fold
for flocks, and was shut in on three sides. A more suitable place<= o:p>
could not be found for their night's lodgi=
ng,
provided they had
no fear of sleeping in the open air beneath
the star-lit heavens;
and none of Thalcave's companions had much
solicitude on that score.
Accordingly they took possession at once, =
and
stretched themselves
at full length on the ground in the bright
sunshine, to dry
their dripping garments.
"Well, now we've secured a lodging, we
must think of supper,"
said Glenarvan. "Our friends must not have re=
ason
to complain of the couriers they sent to
precede them;
and if I am not much mistaken, they will be
very satisfied.
It strikes me that an hour's shooting won'=
t be
lost time.
Are you ready, Robert?"
"Yes, my Lord," replied the boy,
standing up, gun in hand.
Why Glenarvan proposed this was, that the
banks of the Guamini seemed
to be the general rendezvous of all the ga=
me
in the surrounding plains.
A sort of partridge peculiar to the Pampas,
called TINAMOUS;
black wood-hens; a species of plover, call=
ed
TERU-TERU; yellow rays,
and waterfowl with magnificent green pluma=
ge,
rose in coveys.
No quadrupeds, however, were visible, but
Thalcave pointed to the long
grass and thick brushwood, and gave his
friends to understand they
were lying there in concealment.
Disdaining the feathered tribes when more
substantial game was at hand,
the hunters' first shots were fired into t=
he
underwood. Instantly there
rose by the hundred roebucks and guanacos,
like those that had swept
over them that terrible night on the
Cordilleras, but the timid creatures
were so frightened that they were all out =
of
gunshot in a twinkling.
The hunters were obliged to content themse=
lves
with humbler game,
though in an alimentary point of view noth=
ing
better could be wished.
A dozen of red partridges and rays were
speedily brought down,
and Glenarvan also managed very cleverly to
kill a TAY-TETRE, or peccary,
a pachydermatous animal, the flesh of whic=
h is
excellent eating.
In less than half an hour the hunters had =
all
the game they required.
Robert had killed a curious animal belongi=
ng
to the order EDENTATA,
an armadillo, a sort of tatou, covered wit=
h a
hard bony shell,
in movable pieces, and measuring a foot an=
d a
half long.
It was very fat and would make an excellent
dish, the Patagonian said.
Robert was very proud of his success.
Thalcave did his part by capturing a NANDO=
U, a
species of ostrich,
remarkable for its extreme swiftness.
There could be no entrapping such an anima=
l,
and the Indian did not
attempt it. He urged Thaouka to a gallop, and =
made a
direct attack,
knowing that if the first aim missed the
NANDOU would soon tire out horse
and rider by involving them in an inextric=
able
labyrinth of windings.
The moment, therefore, that Thalcave got t=
o a
right distance,
he flung his BOLAS with such a powerful ha=
nd,
and so skillfully,
that he caught the bird round the legs and
paralyzed his efforts at once.
In a few seconds it lay flat on the ground=
.
The Indian had not made his capture for the
mere pleasure and glory
of such a novel chase. The flesh of the NANDOU is highly
esteemed,
and Thalcave felt bound to contribute his
share of the common repast.
They returned to the RAMADA, bringing back=
the
string
of partridges, the ostrich, the peccary, a=
nd
the armadillo.
The ostrich and the peccary were prepared =
for
cooking by divesting
them of their tough skins, and cutting the=
m up
into thin slices.
As to the armadillo, he carries his cooking
apparatus with him,
and all that had to be done was to place h=
im
in his own shell
over the glowing embers.
The substantial dishes were reserved for t=
he
night-comers,
and the three hunters contented themselves
with devouring
the partridges, and washed down their meal
with clear, fresh water,
which was pronounced superior to all the
porter in the world,
even to the famous Highland USQUEBAUGH, or
whisky.
The horses had not been overlooked. A large quantity of dry
fodder was discovered lying heaped up in t=
he
RAMADA, and this
supplied them amply with both food and
bedding.
When all was ready the three companions
wrapped themselves in the ponchos,
and stretched themselves on an eiderdown of
ALFAFARES, the usual bed
of hunters on the Pampas.
NIGHT came, but the orb of night was invis=
ible
to the inhabitants
of the earth, for she was just in her first
quarter.
The dim light of the stars was all that
illumined the plain.
The waters of the Guamini ran silently, li=
ke a
sheet of oil
over a surface of marble. Birds, quadrupeds, and reptiles we=
re
resting motionless after the fatigues of t=
he
day, and the silence
of the desert brooded over the far-spreadi=
ng
Pampas.
Glenarvan, Robert, and Thalcave, had follo=
wed
the common example,
and lay in profound slumber on their soft
couch of lucerne.
The worn-out horses had stretched themselv=
es
full length on the ground,
except Thaouka, who slept standing, true to
his high blood,
proud in repose as in action, and ready to
start at his master's call.
Absolute silence reigned within the inclos=
ure,
over which the dying
embers of the fire shed a fitful light.
However, the Indian's sleep did not last l=
ong;
for about ten
o'clock he woke, sat up, and turned his ear
toward the plain,
listening intently, with half-closed
eyes. An uneasy look began
to depict itself on his usually impassive
face. Had he caught scent
of some party of Indian marauders, or of
jaguars, water tigers,
and other terrible animals that haunt the
neighborhood of rivers?
Apparently it was the latter, for he threw=
a
rapid glance
on the combustible materials heaped up in =
the
inclosure,
and the expression of anxiety on his
countenance seemed to deepen.
This was not surprising, as the whole pile=
of
ALFAFARES would
soon burn out and could only ward off the
attacks of wild beasts
for a brief interval.
There was nothing to be done in the
circumstances but wait;
and wait he did, in a half-recumbent postu=
re,
his head leaning
on his hands, and his elbows on his knees,
like a man roused
suddenly from his night's sleep.
A whole hour passed, and anyone except
Thalcave would have lain
down again on his couch, reassured by the
silence round him.
But where a stranger would have suspected
nothing, the sharpened
senses of the Indian detected the approach=
of
danger.
As he was thus watching and listening, Tha=
ouka
gave a low neigh,
and stretched his nostrils toward the entr=
ance
of the RAMADA.
This startled the Patagonian, and made him
rise to his feet at once.
"Thaouka scents an enemy," he sa=
id
to himself, going toward the opening,
to make careful survey of the plains.
Silence still prevailed, but not tranquill=
ity;
for Thalcave
caught a glimpse of shadows moving noisele=
ssly
over the tufts
of CURRA-MAMMEL. Here and there luminous s=
pots
appeared,
dying out and rekindling constantly, in all
directions,
like fantastic lights dancing over the sur=
face
of an immense lagoon.
An inexperienced eye might have mistaken t=
hem
for fireflies,
which shine at night in many parts of the
Pampas; but Thalcave
was not deceived; he knew the enemies he h=
ad
to deal with,
and lost no time in loading his carbine and
taking up his post
in front of the fence.
He did not wait long, for a strange cry--a
confused sound of barking
and howling--broke over the Pampas, follow=
ed
next instant by the report
of the carbine, which made the uproar a
hundred times worse.
Glenarvan and Robert woke in alarm, and
started to their feet instantly.
"What is it?" exclaimed Robert.<= o:p>
"Is it the Indians?" asked
Glenarvan.
"No," replied Thalcave, "the
AGUARAS."
"AGUARAS?" said Robert, looking
inquiringly at Glenarvan.
"Yes," replied Glenarvan, "=
the
red wolves of the Pampas."
They seized their weapons at once, and
stationed themselves
beside the Patagonian, who pointed toward =
the
plain from whence
the yelling resounded.
Robert drew back involuntarily.
"You are not afraid of wolves, my
boy?" said Glenarvan.
"No, my Lord," said the lad in a
firm tone, "and moreover,
beside you I am afraid of nothing."
"So much the better. These AGUARAS are not very formida=
ble
either;
and if it were not for their number I shou=
ld
not give them a thought."
"Never mind; we are all well armed; l=
et
them come."
"We'll certainly give them a warm
reception," rejoined Glenarvan.
His Lordship only spoke thus to reassure t=
he
child, for a secret
terror filled him at the sight of this leg=
ion
of bloodthirsty
animals let loose on them at midnight.
There might possibly be some hundreds, and
what could three men do,
even armed to the teeth, against such a
multitude?
As soon as Thalcave said the word AGUARA,
Glenarvan knew
that he meant the red wolf, for this is the
name given to it by
the Pampas Indians. This voracious animal, called by
naturalists
the Canis jubatus, is in shape like a large
dog, and has the head
of a fox.=
Its fur is a reddish-cinnamon color, and there is
a black mane all down the back. It is a strong, nimble animal,
generally inhabiting marshy places, and
pursuing aquatic animals
by swimming, prowling about by night and
sleeping during the day.
Its attacks are particularly dreaded at the
ESTANCIAS,
or sheep stations, as it often commits
considerable ravages,
carrying off the finest of the flock. Singly, the AGUARA is
not much to be feared; but they generally =
go
in immense packs,
and one had better have to deal with a jag=
uar
or cougar
than with them.
Both from the noise of the howling and the
multitude of shadows leaping
about, Glenarvan had a pretty good idea of=
the
number of the wolves,
and he knew they had scented a good meal of
human flesh or horse flesh,
and none of them would go back to their de=
ns
without a share.
It was certainly a very alarming situation=
to
be in.
The assailants were gradually drawing closer. The horses displayed<= o:p>
signs of the liveliest terror, with the
exception of Thaouka,
who stamped his foot, and tried to break l=
oose
and get out.
His master could only calm him by keeping =
up a
low, continuous whistle.
Glenarvan and Robert had posted themselves=
so
as to defend the opening
of the RAMADA. They were just going to fire into =
the
nearest ranks
of the wolves when Thalcave lowered their
weapons.
"What does Thalcave mean?" asked
Robert.
"He forbids our firing."
"And why?"
"Perhaps he thinks it is not the right
time."
But this was not the Indian's reason, and =
so
Glenarvan saw when he lifted
the powder-flask, showed him it was nearly
empty.
"What's wrong?" asked Robert.
"We must husband our ammunition,"
was the reply. "To-day's
shooting
has cost us dear, and we are short of powd=
er
and shot.
We can't fire more than twenty times."=
;
The boy made no reply, and Glenarvan asked=
him
if he was frightened.
"No, my Lord," he said.
"That's right," returned Glenarv=
an.
A fresh report resounded that instant. Thalcave had made
short work of one assailant more audacious
than the rest,
and the infuriated pack had retreated to
within a hundred steps
of the inclosure.
On a sign from the Indian Glenarvan took h=
is
place, while Thalcave
went back into the inclosure and gathered =
up
all the dried
grass and ALFAFARES, and, indeed, all the
combustibles he could
rake together, and made a pile of them at =
the
entrance.
Into this he flung one of the still-glowing
embers,
and soon the bright flames shot up into the
dark night.
Glenarvan could now get a good glimpse of =
his
antagonists,
and saw that it was impossible to exaggera=
te
their numbers
or their fury. The barrier of fire just raised by
Thalcave had
redoubled their anger, though it had cut o=
ff
their approach.
Several of them, however, urged on by the
hindmost ranks,
pushed forward into the very flames, and
burned their paws
for their pains.
From time to time another shot had to be
fired, notwithstanding the fire,
to keep off the howling pack, and in the
course of an hour fifteen dead
animals lay stretched on the prairie.
The situation of the besieged was, relativ=
ely
speaking,
less dangerous now. As long as the powder lasted and t=
he
barrier
of fire burned on, there was no fear of be=
ing
overmastered.
But what was to be done afterward, when bo=
th
means of defense
failed at once?
Glenarvan's heart swelled as he looked at
Robert. He forgot himself
in thinking of this poor child, as he saw =
him
showing a courage so far
above his years. Robert was pale, but he kept his g=
un
steady, and stood
with firm foot ready to meet the attacks of
the infuriated wolves.
However, after Glenarvan had calmly survey=
ed
the actual state of affairs,
he determined to bring things to a crisis.=
"In an hour's time," he said,
"we shall neither have powder nor fire.
It will never do to wait till then before =
we
settle what to do."
Accordingly, he went up to Thalcave, and t=
ried
to talk to him
by the help of the few Spanish words his
memory could muster,
though their conversation was often
interrupted by one or the other
having to fire a shot.
It was no easy task for the two men to
understand each other, but,
most fortunately, Glenarvan knew a great d=
eal
of the peculiarities
of the red wolf; otherwise he could never =
have
interpreted the Indian's
words and gestures.
As it was, fully a quarter of an hour elap=
sed
before he could get
any answer from Thalcave to tell Robert in
reply to his inquiry.
"What does he say?"
"He says that at any price we must ho=
ld
out till daybreak.
The AGUARA only prowls about at night, and
goes back to his lair
with the first streak of dawn. It is a cowardly beast, that loves=
the darkness and dreads the light--an owl =
on
four feet."
"Very well, let us defend ourselves,
then, till morning."
"Yes, my boy, and with knife-thrusts,
when gun and shots fail."
Already Thalcave had set the example, for
whenever a wolf came
too near the burning pile, the long arm of=
the
Patagonian dashed
through the flames and came out again redd=
ened
with blood.
But very soon this means of defense would =
be
at an end.
About two o'clock, Thalcave flung his last
armful of combustibles
into the fire, and barely enough powder
remained to load
a gun five times.
Glenarvan threw a sorrowful glance round
him. He thought of the lad
standing there, and of his companions and
those left behind,
whom he loved so dearly.
Robert was silent. Perhaps the danger seemed less imm=
inent
to his imagination. But Glenarvan thought for him, and
pictured
to himself the horrible fate that seemed to
await him inevitably.
Quite overcome by his emotion, he took the
child in his arms,
and straining him convulsively to his hear=
t,
pressed his lips
on his forehead, while tears he could not
restrain streamed
down his cheeks.
Robert looked up into his face with a smil=
e,
and said,
"I am not frightened."
"No, my child, no! and you are right.=
In two hours daybreak
will come, and we shall be saved. Bravo, Thalcave! my
brave Patagonian! Bravo!" he added as the India=
n that
moment
leveled two enormous beasts who endeavored=
to
leap across
the barrier of flames.
But the fire was fast dying out, and the
DENOUEMENT of the terrible
drama was approaching. The flames got lower and lower.
Once more the shadows of night fell on the
prairie, and the glaring
eyes of the wolves glowed like phosphoresc=
ent
balls in the darkness.
A few minutes longer, and the whole pack w=
ould
be in the inclosure.
Thalcave loaded his carbine for the last t=
ime,
killed one
more enormous monster, and then folded his
arms. His head
sank on his chest, and he appeared buried =
in
deep thought.
Was he planning some daring, impossible, m=
ad
attempt to repulse
the infuriated horde? Glenarvan did not venture to ask.<= o:p>
At this very moment the wolves began to ch=
ange
their tactics.
The deafening howls suddenly ceased: they seemed to be going away.
Gloomy silence spread over the prairie, and
made Robert exclaim:
"They're gone!"
But Thalcave, guessing his meaning, shook =
his
head.
He knew they would never relinquish their =
sure
prey till daybreak
made them hasten back to their dens.
Still, their plan of attack had evidently =
been
altered.
They no longer attempted to force the
entrance, but their new
maneuvers only heightened the danger.
They had gone round the RAMADA, as by comm=
on
consent, and were trying
to get in on the opposite side.
The next minute they heard their claws
attacking the moldering wood,
and already formidable paws and hungry, sa=
vage
jaws had found their way
through the palings. The terrified horses broke loose f=
rom
their halters
and ran about the inclosure, mad with fear=
.
Glenarvan put his arms round the young lad,
and resolved to defend him
as long as his life held out. Possibly he might have made a usel=
ess
attempt at flight when his eye fell on
Thalcave.
The Indian had been stalking about the RAM=
ADA
like a stag,
when he suddenly stopped short, and going =
up
to his horse,
who was trembling with impatience, began to
saddle him with the most
scrupulous care, without forgetting a sing=
le
strap or buckle.
He seemed no longer to disturb himself in =
the
least about the
wolves outside, though their yells had
redoubled in intensity.
A dark suspicion crossed Glenarvan's mind =
as
he watched him.
"He is going to desert us," he
exclaimed at last, as he saw him
seize the reins, as if preparing to mount.=
"He! never!" replied Robert. Instead of deserting them,
the truth was that the Indian was going to=
try
and save his
friends by sacrificing himself.
Thaouka was ready, and stood champing his
bit. He reared up,
and his splendid eyes flashed fire; he
understood his master.
But just as the Patagonian caught hold of =
the
horse's mane,
Glenarvan seized his arm with a convulsive
grip, and said,
pointing to the open prairie.
"You are going away?"
"Yes," replied the Indian,
understanding his gesture.
Then he said a few words in Spanish, which
meant:
"Thaouka; good horse; quick; will draw
all the wolves
away after him."
"Oh, Thalcave," exclaimed Glenar=
van.
"Quick, quick!" replied the Indi=
an,
while Glenarvan said, in a broken,
agitated voice to Robert:
"Robert, my child, do you hear him? He wants to sacrifice
himself for us. He wants to rush away over the Pam=
pas,
and turn off the wolves from us by attract=
ing
them to himself."
"Friend Thalcave," returned Robe=
rt,
throwing himself at the feet
of the Patagonian, "friend Thalcave,
don't leave us!"
"No," said Glenarvan, "he s=
hall
not leave us."
And turning toward the Indian, he said,
pointing to the frightened horses,
"Let us go together."
"No," replied Thalcave, catching=
his
meaning.
"Bad beasts; frightened; Thaouka, good
horse."
"Be it so then!" returned
Glenarvan. "Thalcave wil=
l
not leave you, Robert. He teaches me what I must do.
It is for me to go, and for him to stay by
you."
Then seizing Thaouka's bridle, he said,
"I am going, Thalcave, not you."
"No," replied the Patagonian
quietly.
"I am," exclaimed Glenarvan,
snatching the bridle out of his hands.
"I, myself! Save this boy, Thalcave! I commit him to you."
Glenarvan was so excited that he mixed up
English words with
his Spanish. But what mattered the language at =
such a
terrible moment.
A gesture was enough. The two men understood each other.=
However, Thalcave would not give in, and
though every instant's
delay but increased the danger, the discus=
sion
continued.
Neither Glenarvan nor Thalcave appeared
inclined to yield.
The Indian had dragged his companion towar=
ds
the entrance of the RAMADA,
and showed him the prairie, making him
understand that now was
the time when it was clear from the wolves;
but that not a moment
was to be lost, for should this maneuver n=
ot
succeed, it would
only render the situation of those left be=
hind
more desperate.
and that he knew his horse well enough to =
be
able to trust his
wonderful lightness and swiftness to save =
them
all. But Glenarvan
was blind and obstinate, and determined to
sacrifice himself at
all hazards, when suddenly he felt himself
violently pushed back.
Thaouka pranced up, and reared himself bolt
upright on his hind legs,
and made a bound over the barrier of fire,
while a clear,
young voice called out:
"God save you, my lord."
But before either Thalcave or Glenarvan co=
uld
get more than
a glimpse of the boy, holding on fast by
Thaouka's mane,
he was out of sight.
"Robert! oh you unfortunate boy,"
cried Glenarvan.
But even Thalcave did not catch the words,=
for
his voice was drowned
in the frightful uproar made by the wolves,
who had dashed off
at a tremendous speed on the track of the
horse.
Thalcave and Glenarvan rushed out of the
RAMADA. Already the plain
had recovered its tranquillity, and all th=
at
could be seen of the red
wolves was a moving line far away in the
distant darkness.
Glenarvan sank prostrate on the ground, and
clasped his
hands despairingly. He looked at Thalcave, who smiled =
with
his
accustomed calmness, and said:
"Thaouka, good horse. Brave boy. He will save himself!"
"And suppose he falls?" said
Glenarvan.
"He'll not fall."
But notwithstanding Thalcave's assurances,
poor Glenarvan
spent the rest of the night in torturing
anxiety. He seemed
quite insensible now to the danger they had
escaped through
the departure of the wolves, and would have
hastened immediately
after Robert if the Indian had not kept him
back by making him
understand the impossibility of their hors=
es
overtaking Thaouka;
and also that boy and horse had outdistanc=
ed
the wolves long since,
and that it would be useless going to look=
for
them till daylight.
At four o'clock morning began to dawn. A pale glimmer appeared
in the horizon, and pearly drops of dew lay
thick on the plain
and on the tall grass, already stirred by =
the
breath of day.
The time for starting had arrived.
"Now!" cried Thalcave,
"come."
Glenarvan made no reply, but took Robert's
horse and sprung into
the saddle. Next minute both men were gallopin=
g at
full speed toward
the west, in the line in which their
companions ought to be advancing.
They dashed along at a prodigious rate for=
a
full hour, dreading every
minute to come across the mangled corpse of
Robert. Glenarvan had
torn the flanks of his horse with his spur=
s in
his mad haste,
when at last gun-shots were heard in the
distance at regular intervals,
as if fired as a signal.
"There they are!" exclaimed
Glenarvan; and both he and the Indian
urged on their steeds to a still quicker p=
ace,
till in a few minutes
more they came up to the little detachment
conducted by Paganel. A cry
broke from Glenarvan's lips, for Robert wa=
s there,
alive and well,
still mounted on the superb Thaouka, who
neighed loudly with delight
at the sight of his master.
"Oh, my child, my child!" cried
Glenarvan, with indescribable
tenderness in his tone.
Both he and Robert leaped to the ground, a=
nd
flung themselves
into each other's arms. Then the Indian hugged the brave b=
oy
in his arms.
"He is alive, he is alive," repe=
ated
Glenarvan again and again.
"Yes," replied Robert; "and
thanks to Thaouka."
This great recognition of his favorite's
services was wholly unexpected
by the Indian, who was talking to him that
minute, caressing and speaking
to him, as if human blood flowed in the ve=
ins
of the proud creature.
Then turning to Paganel, he pointed to Rob=
ert,
and said, "A brave!"
and employing the Indian metaphor, he adde=
d,
"his spurs did not tremble!"
But Glenarvan put his arms round the boy a=
nd
said, "Why wouldn't you let
me or Thalcave run the risk of this last
chance of deliverance, my son?"
"My lord," replied the boy in to=
nes
of gratitude, "wasn't it
my place to do it? Thalcave has saved my life already=
, and
you--
you are going to save my father."
AFTER the first joy of the meeting was ove=
r,
Paganel and his party,
except perhaps the Major, were only consci=
ous
of one feeling--
they were dying of thirst. Most fortunately for them,
the Guamini ran not far off, and about sev=
en
in the morning
the little troop reached the inclosure on =
its
banks.
The precincts were strewed with the dead
wolves, and judging
from their numbers, it was evident how vio=
lent
the attack must
have been, and how desperate the resistanc=
e.
As soon as the travelers had drunk their f=
ill,
they began
to demolish the breakfast prepared in the
RAMADA, and did
ample justice to the extraordinary
viands. The NANDOU fillets
were pronounced first-rate, and the armadi=
llo
was delicious.
"To eat moderately," said Pagane=
l,
"would be positive ingratitude
to Providence. We must eat immoderately."
And so they did, but were none the worse f=
or
it.
The water of the Guamini greatly aided
digestion apparently.
Glenarvan, however, was not going to imita=
te
Hannibal at Capua, and at
ten o'clock next morning gave the signal f=
or
starting. The leathern
bottles were filled with water, and the da=
y's
march commenced.
The horses were so well rested that they w=
ere
quite fresh again,
and kept up a canter almost constantly.
parched up now, and consequently less ster=
ile,
but still a desert.
No incident occurred of any importance dur=
ing
the 2d and 3d of November,
and in the evening they reached the bounda=
ry
of the Pampas,
and camped for the night on the frontiers =
of
the province of
Buenos Ayres. Two-thirds of their journey was now
accomplished.
It was twenty-two days since they left the=
Bay
of Talcahuano,
and they had gone 450 miles.
Next morning they crossed the conventional
line which separates
the Argentine plains from the region of the
Pampas. It was
here that Thalcave hoped to meet the Caciq=
ues,
in whose hands,
he had no doubt, Harry Grant and his men w=
ere
prisoners.
From the time of leaving the Guamini, there
was marked change
in the temperature, to the great relief of=
the
travelers.
It was much cooler, thanks to the violent =
and
cold winds
from Patagonia, which constantly agitate t=
he
atmospheric waves.
Horses and men were glad enough of this, a=
fter
what they had suffered
from the heat and drought, and they felt
animated with fresh
ardor and confidence. But contrary to what Thalcave had =
said,
the whole district appeared uninhabited, or
rather abandoned.
Their route often led past or went right
through small lagoons,
sometimes of fresh water, sometimes of
brackish. On the banks
and bushes about these, king-wrens were
hopping about and larks
singing joyously in concert with the tanga=
ras,
the rivals in color
of the brilliant humming birds. On the thorny bushes the nests
of the ANNUBIS swung to and fro in the bre=
eze
like an Indian hammock;
and on the shore magnificent flamingos sta=
lked
in regular order
like soldiers marching, and spread out the=
ir
flaming red wings.
Their nests were seen in groups of thousan=
ds,
forming a complete town,
about a foot high, and resembling a trunca=
ted
cone in shape.
The flamingos did not disturb themselves in
the least at the approach
of the travelers, but this did not suit
Paganel.
"I have been very desirous a long
time," he said to the Major,
"to see a flamingo flying."
"All right," replied McNabbs.
"Now while I have the opportunity, I
should like to make the most
of it," continued Paganel.
"Very well; do it, Paganel."
"Come with me, then, Major, and you t=
oo
Robert. I want witnesses.&quo=
t;
And all three went off towards the flaming=
os,
leaving the others
to go on in advance.
As soon as they were near enough, Paganel
fired, only loading
his gun, however, with powder, for he would
not shed even
the blood of a bird uselessly. The shot made the whole assemblage=
fly away en masse, while Paganel watched t=
hem
attentively
through his spectacles.
"Well, did you see them fly?" he
asked the Major.
"Certainly I did," was the
reply. "I could not help
seeing them,
unless I had been blind."
"Well and did you think they resembled
feathered arrows when
they were flying?"
"Not in the least."
"Not a bit," added Robert.
"I was sure of it," said the
geographer, with a satisfied air;
"and yet the very proudest of modest =
men,
my illustrious
countryman, Chateaubriand, made the inaccu=
rate
comparison.
Oh, Robert, comparison is the most dangero=
us
figure in rhetoric
that I know. Mind you avoid it all your life, a=
nd
only employ
it in a last extremity."
"Are you satisfied with your
experiment?" asked McNabbs.
"Delighted."
"And so am I. But we had better push =
on
now, for your illustrious
Chateaubriand has put us more than a mile
behind."
On rejoining their companions, they found
Glenarvan busily engaged
in conversation with the Indian, though
apparently unable to make
him understand. Thalcave's gaze was fixed intently=
on
the horizon,
and his face wore a puzzled expression.
The moment Paganel came in sight, Glenarvan
called out:
"Come along, friend Paganel. Thalcave and I can't understand
each other at all."
After a few minute's talk with the Patagon=
ian,
the interpreter turned
to Glenarvan and said:
"Thalcave is quite astonished at the
fact, and certainly it is very
strange that there are no Indians, nor even
traces of any to be seen
in these plains, for they are generally th=
ick
with companies of them,
either driving along cattle stolen from the
ESTANCIAS, or going
to the Andes to sell their zorillo cloths =
and
plaited leather whips."
"And what does Thalcave think is the
reason?"
"He does not know; he is amazed and
that's all."
"But what description of Indians did =
he
reckon on meeting in this
part of the Pampas?"
"Just the very ones who had the forei=
gn
prisoners in their hands,
the natives under the rule of the Caciques
Calfoucoura, Catriel,
or Yanchetruz."
"Who are these Caciques?"
"Chiefs that were all powerful thirty
years ago, before they were driven
beyond the sierras. Since then they have been reduced =
to
subjection
as much as Indians can be, and they scour =
the
plains of the Pampas
and the province of Buenos Ayres. I quite share Thalcave's surprise<= o:p>
at not discovering any traces of them in
regions which they usually
infest as SALTEADORES, or bandits."
"And what must we do then?"
"I'll go and ask him," replied
Paganel.
After a brief colloquy he returned and sai=
d:
"This is his advice, and very sensibl=
e it
is, I think.
He says we had better continue our route to
the east as far
as Fort Independence, and if we don't get =
news
of Captain Grant
there we shall hear, at any rate, what has
become of the Indians
of the Argentine plains."
"Is Fort Independence far away?"
asked Glenarvan.
"No, it is in the Sierra Tandil, a
distance of about sixty miles."
"And when shall we arrive?"
"The day after to-morrow, in the
evening."
Glenarvan was considerably disconcerted by
this circumstance.
Not to find an Indian where in general the=
re
were only too many,
was so unusual that there must be some gra=
ve
cause for it;
but worse still if Harry Grant were a pris=
oner
in the hands of any of
those tribes, had be been dragged away with
them to the north or south?
Glenarvan felt that, cost what it might, t=
hey
must not lose his track,
and therefore decided to follow the advice=
of
Thalcave, and go to
the village of Tandil. They would find some one there to =
speak
to,
at all events.
About four o'clock in the evening a hill,
which seemed
a mountain in so flat a country, was sight=
ed
in the distance.
This was Sierra Tapalquem, at the foot of
which the travelers
camped that night.
The passage in the morning over this sierr=
a,
was accomplished without
the slightest difficulty; after having cro=
ssed
the Cordillera
of the Andes, it was easy work to ascend t=
he
gentle heights of such
a sierra as this. The horses scarcely slackened their
speed.
At noon they passed the deserted fort of
Tapalquem, the first of the chain
of forts which defend the southern frontie=
rs
from Indian marauders.
But to the increasing surprise of Thalcave,
they did not come across
even the shadow of an Indian. About the middle of the day, howev=
er,
three flying horsemen, well mounted and we=
ll
armed came in sight, gazed at
them for an instant, and then sped away wi=
th
inconceivable rapidity.
Glenarvan was furious.
"Gauchos," said the Patagonian,
designating them by the name which had
caused such a fiery discussion between the
Major and Paganel.
"Ah! the Gauchos," replied
McNabbs. "Well, Paganel,=
the
north wind
is not blowing to-day. What do you think of
those fellows yonder?"
"I think they look like regular bandi=
ts."
"And how far is it from looking to be=
ing,
my good geographer?"
"Only just a step, my dear Major.&quo=
t;
Paganel's admission was received with a
general laugh, which did not in
the least disconcert him. He went on talking about the India=
ns
however,
and made this curious observation:
"I have read somewhere," he said,
"that about the Arabs there
is a peculiar expression of ferocity in the
mouth, while the eyes
have a kindly look. Now, in these American savages it =
is
quite
the reverse, for the eye has a particularly
villainous aspect."
No physiognomist by profession could have
better characterized
the Indian race.
But desolate as the country appeared, Thal=
cave
was on his guard
against surprises, and gave orders to his
party to form themselves
in a close platoon. It was a useless precaution, howev=
er;
for that
same evening, they camped for the night in=
an
immense TOLDERIA, which they
not only found perfectly empty, but which =
the
Patagonian declared,
after he had examined it all round, must h=
ave
been uninhabited
for a long time.
Next day, the first ESTANCIAS of the Sierra
Tandil came in sight.
The ESTANCIAS are large cattle stations for
breeding cattle;
but Thalcave resolved not to stop at any of
them, but to go
straight on to Fort Independence. They passed several farms
fortified by battlements and surrounded by=
a
deep moat,
the principal building being encircled by a
terrace, from which
the inhabitants could fire down on the
marauders in the plain.
Glenarvan might, perhaps, have got some
information at these houses,
but it was the surest plan to go straight =
on
to the village
of Tandil. Accordingly they went on without
stopping, fording the RIO
of Los Huasos and also the Chapaleofu, a f=
ew
miles further on.
Soon they were treading the grassy slopes =
of
the first ridges
of the Sierra Tandil, and an hour afterward
the village appeared
in the depths of a narrow gorge, and above=
it
towered the lofty
battlements of Fort Independence.
THE Sierra Tandil rises a thousand feet ab=
ove
the level of the sea.
It is a primordial chain--that is to say,
anterior to all organic
and metamorphic creation. It is formed of a semi-circular
ridge of gneiss hills, covered with fine s=
hort
grass.
The district of Tandil, to which it has gi=
ven
its name,
includes all the south of the
and terminates in a river which conveys no=
rth
all the RIOS
that take their rise on its slopes.
After making a short ascent up the sierra,
they reached the postern gate,
so carelessly guarded by an Argentine
sentinel, that they passed through
without difficulty, a circumstance which
betokened extreme negligence
or extreme security.
A few minutes afterward the Commandant
appeared in person.
He was a vigorous man about fifty years of
age, of military aspect,
with grayish hair, and an imperious eye, as
far as one could see
through the clouds of tobacco smoke which
escaped from his short pipe.
His walk reminded Paganel instantly of the=
old
subalterns in
his own country.
Thalcave was spokesman, and addressing the
officer, presented
Lord Glenarvan and his companions. While he was speaking, the Command=
ant
kept staring fixedly at Paganel in rather =
an
embarrassing manner.
The geographer could not understand what he
meant by it, and was
just about to interrogate him, when the
Commandant came forward,
and seizing both his hands in the most
free-and-easy fashion,
said in a joyous voice, in the mother tong=
ue
of the geographer:
"A Frenchman!"
"Yes, a Frenchman," replied Paga=
nel.
"Ah! delightful! Welcome, welcome. I am a Frenchman too," he add=
ed,
shaking Paganel's hand with such vigor as =
to
be almost alarming.
"Is he a friend of yours, Paganel?&qu=
ot;
asked the Major.
"Yes," said Paganel, somewhat
proudly. "One has friend=
s in
every
division of the globe."
After he had succeeded in disengaging his
hand, though not
without difficulty, from the living vise in
which it was held,
a lively conversation ensued. Glenarvan would fain have put
in a word about the business on hand, but =
the
Commandant related
his entire history, and was not in a mood =
to
stop till he had done.
It was evident that the worthy man must ha=
ve
left his native country
many years back, for his mother tongue had
grown unfamiliar,
and if he had not forgotten the words he
certainly did not remember
how to put them together. He spoke more like a negro belongi=
ng
to a French colony.
The fact was that the Governor of Fort
Independence was a French sergeant,
an old comrade of Parachapee. He had never left the fort since i=
t
had been built in 1828; and, strange to sa=
y,
he commanded it with
the consent of the Argentine Government. He was a man about fifty
years of age, a Basque by birth, and his n=
ame
was Manuel Ipharaguerre,
so that he was almost a Spaniard. A year after his arrival in the co=
untry
he was naturalized, took service in the
Argentine army, and married
an Indian girl, who was then nursing twin
babies six months old--
two boys, be it understood, for the good w=
ife
of the Commandant
would have never thought of presenting her
husband with girls.
Manuel could not conceive of any state but=
a
military one, and he hoped
in due time, with the help of God, to offer
the republic a whole
company of young soldiers.
"You saw them. Charming! good soldiers are Jose, =
Juan,
and Miquele! Pepe, seven year old; Pepe can han=
dle a
gun."
Pepe, hearing himself complimented, brought
his two little feet together,
and presented arms with perfect grace.
"He'll get on!" added the
sergeant. "He'll be
colonel-major
or brigadier-general some day."
Sergeant Manuel seemed so enchanted that it
would have been
useless to express a contrary opinion, eit=
her
to the profession
of arms or the probable future of his
children. He was happy,
and as Goethe says, "Nothing that mak=
es
us happy is an illusion."
All this talk took up a quarter of an hour=
, to
the great astonishment
of Thalcave. The Indian could not understand ho=
w so
many words
could come out of one throat. No one interrupted the Sergeant,
but all things come to an end, and at last=
he
was silent,
but not till he had made his guests enter =
his
dwelling,
and be presented to Madame Ipharaguerre. Then, and not till then,
did he ask his guests what had procured him
the honor of their visit.
Now or never was the moment to explain, and
Paganel, seizing the chance
at once, began an account of their journey
across the Pampas,
and ended by inquiring the reason of the
Indians having
deserted the country.
"Ah! there was no one!" replied =
the
Sergeant, shrugging his
shoulders--"really no one, and us, to=
o,
our arms crossed!
Nothing to do!"
"But why?"
"War."
"War?"
"Yes, civil war between the Paraguaya=
ns
and Buenos Ayriens,"
replied the Sergeant.
"Well?"
"Well, Indians all in the north, in t=
he
rear of General Flores.
Indian pillagers find pillage there."=
"But where are the Caciques?"
"Caciques are with them."
"What! Catriel?"
"There is no Catriel."
"And Calfoucoura?"
"There is no Calfoucoura."
"And is there no Yanchetruz?"
"No; no Yanchetruz."
The reply was interpreted by Thalcave, who
shook his head and
gave an approving look. The Patagonian was either unaware =
of,
or had forgotten that civil war was decima=
ting
the two parts
of the republic--a war which ultimately
required the intervention
of Brazil. The Indians have everything to gai=
n by
these intestine
strifes, and can not lose such fine
opportunities of plunder.
There was no doubt the Sergeant was right =
in
assigning war then
as the cause of the forsaken appearance of=
the
plains.
But this circumstance upset all Glenarvan's
projects,
for if Harry Grant was a prisoner in the h=
ands
of
the Caciques, he must have been dragged no=
rth
with them.
How and where should they ever find him if
that were the case?
Should they attempt a perilous and almost
useless journey
to the northern border of the Pampas? It was a serious question
which would need to be well talked over.
However, there was one inquiry more to mak=
e to
the Sergeant;
and it was the Major who thought of it, for
all the others
looked at each other in silence.
"Had the Sergeant heard whether any
Europeans were prisoners
in the hands of the Caciques?"
Manuel looked thoughtful for a few minutes,
like a man trying
to ransack his memory. At last he said:
"Yes."
"Ah!" said Glenarvan, catching at
the fresh hope.
They all eagerly crowded round the Sergean=
t,
exclaiming,
"Tell us, tell us."
"It was some years ago," replied
Manuel. "Yes; all I hear=
d
was that some Europeans were prisoners, bu=
t I
never saw them."
"You are making a mistake," said
Glenarvan. "It can't be =
some
years ago; the date of the shipwreck is
explicitly given.
The BRITANNIA was wrecked in June, 1862. It is scarcely
two years ago."
"Oh, more than that, my Lord."
"Impossible!" said Paganel.
"Oh, but it must be. It was when Pepe was born.
There were two prisoners."
"No, three!" said Glenarvan.
"Two!" replied the Sergeant, in a
positive tone.
"Two?" echoed Glenarvan, much
surprised. "Two
Englishmen?"
"No, no. Who is talking of Englishmen? No; a Frenchman
and an Italian."
"An Italian who was massacred by the
Poyuches?" exclaimed Paganel.
"Yes; and I heard afterward that the
Frenchman was saved."
"Saved!" exclaimed young Robert,=
his
very life hanging on the lips
of the Sergeant.
Yes; delivered out of the hands of the
Indians."
Paganel struck his forehead with an air of
desperation,
and said at last,
"Ah!=
I understand. It is all
clear now; everything is explained."
"But what is it?" asked Glenarva=
n,
with as much impatience.
"My friends," replied Paganel,
taking both Robert's hands
in his own, "we must resign ourselves=
to
a sad disaster.
We have been on a wrong track. The prisoner mentioned
is not the captain at all, but one of my o=
wn
countrymen;
and his companion, who was assassinated by=
the
Poyuches,
was Marco Vazello. The Frenchman was dragged along by=
the
cruel
Indians several times as far as the shores=
of
the Colorado,
but managed at length to make his escape, =
and
return
to Colorado. Instead of following the track of =
Harry
Grant,
we have fallen on that of young
Guinnard."
This announcement was heard with profound
silence.
The mistake was palpable. The details given by the Sergeant,<= o:p>
the nationality of the prisoner, the murde=
r of
his companions,
his escape from the hands of the Indians, =
all
evidenced the fact.
Glenarvan looked at Thalcave with a
crestfallen face,
and the Indian, turning to the Sergeant, a=
sked
whether he had
never heard of three English captives.
"Never," replied Manuel. "They would have known of the=
m
at Tandil, I am sure. No, it cannot be."
After this, there was nothing further to d=
o at
Fort Independence
but to shake hands with the Commandant, and
thank him and take leave.
Glenarvan was in despair at this complete
overthrow of his hopes,
and Robert walked silently beside him, with
his eyes full of tears.
Glenarvan could not find a word of comfort=
to
say to him.
Paganel gesticulated and talked away to
himself. The Major never
opened his mouth, nor Thalcave, whose amour
propre, as an Indian,
seemed quite wounded by having allowed him=
self
to go on a wrong scent.
No one, however, would have thought of
reproaching him for an
error so pardonable.
They went back to the FONDA, and had suppe=
r;
but it was a gloomy party
that surrounded the table. It was not that any one of them
regretted
the fatigue they had so heedlessly endured=
or
the dangers they had run,
but they felt their hope of success was go=
ne,
for there was no chance
of coming across Captain Grant between the
Sierra Tandil and the sea,
as Sergeant Manuel must have heard if any
prisoners had fallen into
the hands of the Indians on the coast of t=
he
Atlantic. Any event of this
nature would have attracted the notice of =
the
Indian traders who traffic
between Tandil and Carmen, at the mouth of=
the
Rio Negro. The best
thing to do now was to get to the DUNCAN as
quick as possible at
the appointed rendezvous.
Paganel asked Glenarvan, however, to let h=
im
have the document again,
on the faith of which they had set out on =
so
bootless a search.
He read it over and over, as if trying to
extract some new meaning
out of it.
"Yet nothing can be clearer," sa=
id
Glenarvan; "it gives the date
of the shipwreck, and the manner, and the
place of the captivity
in the most categorical manner."
"That it does not--no, it does not!&q=
uot;
exclaimed Paganel, striking the table
with his fist. "Since Harry Grant is not in =
the
Pampas, he is not
in America; but where he is the document m=
ust
say, and it shall say,
my friends, or my name is not Jacques Paga=
nel
any longer."
A DISTANCE of 150 miles separates
of the
should occur, in four days Glenarvan would
rejoin the
return on board without Captain Grant, and
after having so completely
failed in his search, was what he could not
bring himself to do.
Consequently, when next day came, he gave =
no
orders for departure;
the Major took it upon himself to have the
horses saddled, and make
all preparations. Thanks to his activity, next morni=
ng at
eight o'clock
the little troop was descending the grassy
slopes of the Sierra.
Glenarvan, with Robert at his side, gallop=
ed
along without saying a word.
His bold, determined nature made it imposs=
ible
to take failure quietly.
His heart throbbed as if it would burst, a=
nd
his head was burning.
Paganel, excited by the difficulty, was
turning over and over
the words of the document, and trying to
discover some new meaning.
Thalcave was perfectly silent, and left
Thaouka to lead the way.
The Major, always confident, remained firm=
at
his post, like a man on whom
discouragement takes no hold. Tom Austin and his two sailors sha=
red
the dejection of their master. A timid rabbit happened to run acr=
oss
their path, and the superstitious men look=
ed
at each other in dismay.
"A bad omen," said Wilson.
"Yes, in the Highlands," repeated
Mulrady.
"What's bad in the Highlands is not
better here,"
returned Wilson sententiously.
Toward noon they had crossed the Sierra, a=
nd
descended into
the undulating plains which extend to the
sea. Limpid RIOS
intersected these plains, and lost themsel=
ves
among the tall grasses.
The ground had once more become a dead lev=
el,
the last mountains
of the Pampas were passed, and a long carp=
et
of verdure unrolled
itself over the monotonous prairie beneath=
the
horses' tread.
Hitherto the weather had been fine, but to=
-day
the sky presented
anything but a reassuring appearance. The heavy vapors, generated by
the high temperature of the preceding days,
hung in thick clouds,
which ere long would empty themselves in
torrents of rain.
Moreover, the vicinity of the Atlantic, and
the prevailing
west wind, made the climate of this distri=
ct
particularly damp.
This was evident by the fertility and
abundance of the pasture
and its dark color. However, the clouds remained unbro=
ken
for the present, and in the evening, after=
a
brisk gallop
of forty miles, the horses stopped on the
brink of deep CANADAS,
immense natural trenches filled with
water. No shelter was near,
and ponchos had to serve both for tents and
coverlets as each man
lay down and fell asleep beneath the
threatening sky.
Next day the presence of water became still
more sensibly felt;
it seemed to exude from every pore of the
ground. Soon large ponds,
some just beginning to form, and some alre=
ady
deep, lay across
the route to the east. As long as they had only to deal w=
ith
lagoons,
circumscribed pieces of water unencumbered
with aquatic plants,
the horses could get through well enough, =
but
when they
encountered moving sloughs called PENTANOS=
, it
was harder work.
Tall grass blocked them up, and they were
involved in the peril
before they were aware.
These bogs had already proved fatal to more
than one living thing,
for Robert, who had got a good bit ahead of
the party, came rushing
back at full gallop, calling out:
"Monsieur Paganel, Monsieur Paganel, a
forest of horns."
"What!" exclaimed the geographer;
"you have found a forest of horns?"
"Yes, yes, or at any rate a
coppice."
"A coppice!" replied Paganel,
shrugging his shoulders.
"My boy, you are dreaming."
"I am not dreaming, and you will see =
for
yourself. Well, this is
a strange country. They sow horns, and they sprout up=
like
wheat.
I wish I could get some of the seed."=
"The boy is really speaking
seriously," said the Major.
"Yes, Mr. Major, and you will soon se=
e I
am right."
The boy had not been mistaken, for present=
ly
they found themselves
in front of an immense field of horns,
regularly planted and stretching
far out of sight. It was a complete copse, low and c=
lose
packed,
but a strange sort.
"Well," said Robert.
"This is peculiar certainly," sa=
id
Paganel, and he turned round
to question Thalcave on the subject.
"The horns come out of the ground,&qu=
ot;
replied the Indian,
"but the oxen are down below."
"What!" exclaimed Paganel; "=
;do
you mean to say that a whole herd
was caught in that mud and buried alive?&q=
uot;
"Yes," said the Patagonian.
And so it was. An immense herd had been suffocate=
d side
by side
in this enormous bog, and this was not the
first occurrence
of the kind which had taken place in the
Argentine plains.
An hour afterward and the field of horns l=
ay
two miles behind.
Thalcave was somewhat anxiously observing a
state of things
which appeared to him unusual. He frequently stopped and raised
himself on his stirrups and looked
around.&n=
bsp;
His great height gave him a commanding view
of the whole horizon; but after a keen rap=
id
survey, he quickly
resumed his seat and went on. About a mile further he stopped ag=
ain,
and leaving the straight route, made a cir=
cuit
of some miles north
and south, and then returned and fell back=
in
his place at the head
of the troop, without saying a syllable as=
to
what he hoped or feared.
This strange behavior, several times repea=
ted,
made Glenarvan very uneasy,
and quite puzzled Paganel. At last, at Glenarvan's request,
he asked the Indian about it.
Thalcave replied that he was astonished to=
see
the plains so saturated
with water. Never, to his knowledge, since he =
had
followed the calling
of guide, had he found the ground in this
soaking condition.
Even in the rainy season, the Argentine pl=
ains
had always been passable.
"But what is the cause of this increa=
sing
humidity?" said Paganel.
"I do not know, and what if I did?&qu=
ot;
"Could it be owing to the RIOS of the
Sierra being swollen
to overflowing by the heavy rains?"
"Sometimes they are."
"And is it the case now?"
"Perhaps."
Paganel was obliged to be content with this
unsatisfactory reply,
and went back to Glenarvan to report the
result of his conversation.
"And what does Thalcave advise us to
do?" said Glenarvan.
Paganel went back to the guide and asked h=
im.
"Go on fast," was the reply.
This was easier said than done. The horses soon tired of treading =
over
ground that gave way at every step. It sank each moment more and more,=
till it seemed half under water.
They quickened their pace, but could not go
fast enough to
escape the water, which rolled in great sh=
eets
at their feet.
Before two hours the cataracts of the sky
opened and deluged
the plain in true tropical torrents of
rain. Never was there
a finer occasion for displaying philosophic
equanimity.
There was no shelter, and nothing for it b=
ut
to bear it stolidly.
The ponchos were streaming like the
overflowing gutter-spouts
on the roof of a house, and the unfortunate
horsemen had to
submit to a double bath, for their horses
dashed up the water
to their waists at every step.
In this drenching, shivering state, and wo=
rn
out with fatigue,
they came toward evening to a miserable
RANCHO, which could
only have been called a shelter by people =
not
very fastidious,
and certainly only travelers in extremity
would even have entered it;
but Glenarvan and his companions had no
choice, and were glad
enough to burrow in this wretched hovel,
though it would have
been despised by even a poor Indian of the
Pampas. A miserable
fire of grass was kindled, which gave out =
more
smoke than heat,
and was very difficult to keep alight, as =
the
torrents
of rain which dashed against the ruined ca=
bin
outside found
their way within and fell down in large dr=
ops
from the roof.
Twenty times over the fire would have been
extinguished if Mulrady
and Wilson had not kept off the water.
The supper was a dull meal, and neither
appetizing nor reviving.
Only the Major seemed to eat with any
relish. The impassive McNabbs=
was superior to all circumstances. Paganel, Frenchman as he was,
tried to joke, but the attempt was a failu=
re.
"My jests are damp," he said,
"they miss fire."
The only consolation in such circumstances=
was
to sleep,
and accordingly each one lay down and
endeavored to find in slumber
a temporary forgetfulness of his discomfor=
ts
and his fatigues.
The night was stormy, and the planks of the
rancho cracked
before the blast as if every instant they
would give way.
The poor horses outside, exposed to all the
inclemency of the weather,
were making piteous moans, and their maste=
rs
were suffering quite as much
inside the ruined RANCHO. However, sleep overpowered them at
length.
Robert was the first to close his eyes and
lean his head against
Glenarvan's shoulder, and soon all the rest
were soundly sleeping
too under the guardian eye of Heaven.
The night passed safely, and no one stirred
till Thaouka woke
them by tapping vigorously against the RAN=
CHO
with his hoof.
He knew it was time to start, and at a push
could give the signal
as well as his master. They owed the faithful creature to=
o much
to disobey him, and set off immediately.
The rain had abated, but floods of water s=
till
covered the ground.
Paganel, on consulting his map, came to the
conclusion that
the RIOS Grande and Vivarota, into which t=
he
water from the plains
generally runs, must have been united in o=
ne
large bed several
miles in extent.
Extreme haste was imperative, for all their
lives depended on it.
Should the inundation increase, where could
they find refuge?
Not a single elevated point was visible on=
the
whole circle
of the horizon, and on such level plains w=
ater
would sweep along
with fearful rapidity.
The horses were spurred on to the utmost, =
and
Thaouka led the way,
bounding over the water as if it had been =
his
natural element.
Certainly he might justly have been called=
a
sea-horse--
better than many of the amphibious animals=
who
bear that name.
All of a sudden, about ten in the morning,
Thaouka betrayed symptoms
of violent agitation. He kept turning round toward the s=
outh,
neighing continually, and snorting with wi=
de
open nostrils.
He reared violently, and Thalcave had some
difficulty in keeping
his seat.=
The foam from his mouth was tinged with blood
from the action of the bit, pulled tightly=
by
his master's
strong hand, and yet the fiery animal would
not be still.
Had he been free, his master knew he would
have fled away
to the north as fast as his legs would have
carried him.
"What is the matter with Thaouka?&quo=
t;
asked Paganel. "Is he bi=
tten
by the leeches? They are very voracious in the Arg=
entine
streams."
"No," replied the Indian.
"Is he frightened at something,
then?"
"Yes, he scents danger."
"What danger?"
"I don't know."
But, though no danger was apparent to the =
eye,
the ear could
catch the sound of a murmuring noise beyond
the limits of
the horizon, like the coming in of the
tide. Soon a confused
sound was heard of bellowing and neighing =
and
bleating,
and about a mile to the south immense floc=
ks
appeared,
rushing and tumbling over each other in the
greatest disorder,
as they hurried pell-mell along with
inconceivable rapidity.
They raised such a whirlwind of water in t=
heir
course
that it was impossible to distinguish them
clearly.
A hundred whales of the largest size could
hardly have dashed
up the ocean waves more violently.
"Anda, anda!" (quick, quick),
shouted Thalcave, in a voice like thunder.
"What is it, then?" asked Pagane=
l.
"The rising," replied Thalcave.<= o:p>
"He means an inundation," exclai=
med
Paganel, flying with the others
after Thalcave, who had spurred on his hor=
se
toward the north.
It was high time, for about five miles sou=
th
an immense towering
wave was seen advancing over the plain, and
changing the whole
country into an ocean. The tall grass disappeared before =
it
as if cut down by a scythe, and clumps of
mimosas were torn up
and drifted about like floating islands.
The wave was speeding on with the rapidity=
of
a racehorse,
and the travelers fled before it like a cl=
oud
before a storm-wind.
They looked in vain for some harbor of ref=
uge,
and the terrified
horses galloped so wildly along that the
riders could hardly
keep their saddles.
"Anda, anda!" shouted Thalcave, =
and
again they spurred on
the poor animals till the blood ran from t=
heir
lacerated sides.
They stumbled every now and then over great
cracks in the ground,
or got entangled in the hidden grass below=
the
water.
They fell, and were pulled up only to fall
again and again,
and be pulled up again and again. The level of the waters
was sensibly rising, and less than two mil=
es
off the gigantic
wave reared its crested head.
For a quarter of an hour this supreme stru=
ggle
with the most
terrible of elements lasted. The fugitives could not tell how f=
ar
they had gone, but, judging by the speed, =
the
distance must have
been considerable. The poor horses, however, were
breast-high
in water now, and could only advance with =
extreme
difficulty.
Glenarvan and Paganel, and, indeed, the wh=
ole
party, gave themselves
up for lost, as the horses were fast getti=
ng
out of their depth,
and six feet of water would be enough to d=
rown
them.
It would be impossible to tell the anguish=
of
mind these eight
men endured; they felt their own impotence=
in
the presence
of these cataclysms of nature so far beyond
all human power.
Their salvation did not lie in their own
hands.
Five minutes afterward, and the horses were
swimming;
the current alone carried them along with
tremendous force,
and with a swiftness equal to their fastest
gallop; they must
have gone fully twenty miles an hour.
All hope of delivery seemed impossible, wh=
en
the Major
suddenly called out:
"A tree!"
"A tree?" exclaimed Glenarvan.
"Yes, there, there!" replied
Thalcave, pointing with his finger
to a species of gigantic walnut-tree, which
raised its solitary
head above the waters.
His companions needed no urging forward no=
w;
this tree,
so opportunely discovered, they must reach=
at
all hazards.
The horses very likely might not be able to
get to it, but,
at all events, the men would, the current
bearing them right
down to it.
Just at that moment Tom Austin's horse gav=
e a
smothered neigh
and disappeared. His master, freeing his feet from =
the
stirrups,
began to swim vigorously.
"Hang on to my saddle," called
Glenarvan.
"Thanks, your honor, but I have good
stout arms."
"Robert, how is your horse going?&quo=
t;
asked his Lordship,
turning to young Grant.
"Famously, my Lord, he swims like a
fish."
"Lookout!" shouted the Major, in=
a
stentorian voice.
The warning was scarcely spoken before the
enormous billow, a monstrous
wave forty feet high, broke over the fugit=
ives
with a fearful noise.
Men and animals all disappeared in a whirl=
of
foam; a liquid mass,
weighing several millions of tons, engulfed
them in its seething waters.
When it had rolled on, the men reappeared =
on
the surface,
and counted each other rapidly; but all the
horses, except Thaouka,
who still bore his master, had gone down
forever.
"Courage, courage," repeated
Glenarvan, supporting Paganel with one arm,
and swimming with the other.
"I can manage, I can manage," sa=
id
the worthy savant.
"I am even not sorry--"
But no one ever knew what he was not sorry
about, for the poor
man was obliged to swallow down the rest of
his sentence
with half a pint of muddy water. The Major advanced quietly,
making regular strokes, worthy of a master
swimmer.
The sailors took to the water like porpois=
es,
while Robert
clung to Thaouka's mane, and was carried a=
long
with him.
The noble animal swam superbly, instinctiv=
ely
making for the tree
in a straight line.
The tree was only twenty fathoms off, and =
in a
few minutes
was safely reached by the whole party; but=
for
this refuge they
must all have perished in the flood.
The water had risen to the top of the trun=
k,
just to where the parent
branches fork out. It was consequently, quite easy to
clamber up to it.
Thalcave climbed up first, and got off his
horse to hoist up Robert
and help the others. His powerful arms had soon placed =
all
the exhausted
swimmers in a place of security.
But, meantime, Thaouka was being rapidly
carried away by the current.
He turned his intelligent face toward his
master, and, shaking his
long mane, neighed as if to summon him to =
his
rescue.
"Are you going to forsake him,
Thalcave?" asked Paganel.
"I!" replied the Indian, and
forthwith he plunged down into
the tumultuous waters, and came up again t=
en
fathoms off.
A few instants afterward his arms were rou=
nd
Thaouka's neck,
and master and steed were drifting together
toward the misty
horizon of the north.
THE tree on which Glenarvan and his compan=
ions
had just found refuge,
resembled a walnut-tree, having the same
glossy foliage and rounded form.
In reality, however, it was the OMBU, which
grows solitarily on the
Argentine plains. The enormous and twisted trunk of =
this
tree is planted
firmly in the soil, not only by its great
roots, but still more by its
vigorous shoots, which fasten it down in t=
he
most tenacious manner.
This was how it stood proof against the sh=
ock
of the mighty billow.
This OMBU measured in height a hundred fee=
t,
and covered with
its shadow a circumference of one hundred =
and
twenty yards.
All this scaffolding rested on three great
boughs which sprang
from the trunk. Two of these rose almost
perpendicularly,
and supported the immense parasol of folia=
ge,
the branches of which
were so crossed and intertwined and entang=
led,
as if by the hand
of a basket-maker, that they formed an
impenetrable shade.
The third arm, on the contrary, stretched
right out in a horizontal
position above the roaring waters, into wh=
ich
the lower leaves dipped.
There was no want of room in the interior =
of
this gigantic tree,
for there were great gaps in the foliage,
perfect glades,
with air in abundance, and freshness
everywhere.
To see the innumerable branches rising to =
the
clouds,
and the creepers running from bough to bou=
gh,
and attaching
them together while the sunlight glinted h=
ere
and there among
the leaves, one might have called it a
complete forest instead
of a solitary tree sheltering them all.
On the arrival of the fugitives a myriad of
the feathered tribes
fled away into the topmost branches,
protesting by their outcries
against this flagrant usurpation of their
domicile. These birds,
who themselves had taken refuge in the
solitary OMBU, were in hundreds,
comprising blackbirds, starlings, isacas,
HILGUEROS, and especially
the pica-flor, humming-birds of most
resplendent colors.
When they flew away it seemed as though a =
gust
of wind had blown
all the flowers off the tree.
Such was the asylum offered to the little =
band
of Glenarvan. Young Grant
and the agile Wilson were scarcely perched=
on
the tree before
they had climbed to the upper branches and=
put
their heads
through the leafy dome to get a view of the
vast horizon.
The ocean made by the inundation surrounded
them on all sides,
and, far as the eye could reach, seemed to
have no limits.
Not a single tree was visible on the liquid
plain; the OMBU
stood alone amid the rolling waters, and
trembled before them.
In the distance, drifting from south to no=
rth,
carried along
by the impetuous torrent, they saw trees t=
orn
up by the roots,
twisted branches, roofs torn off, destroyed
RANCHOS, planks of sheds
stolen by the deluge from ESTANCIAS, carca=
sses
of drowned animals,
blood-stained skins, and on a shaky tree a
complete family of jaguars,
howling and clutching hold of their frail
raft. Still farther away,
a black spot almost invisible, already cau=
ght
Wilson's eye.
It was Thalcave and his faithful Thaouka.<= o:p>
"Thalcave, Thalcave!" shouted
Robert, stretching out his hands toward
the courageous Patagonian.
"He will save himself, Mr. Robert,&qu=
ot;
replied Wilson; "we must go
down to his Lordship."
Next minute they had descended the three
stages of boughs,
and landed safely on the top of the trunk,
where they found
Glenarvan, Paganel, the Major, Austin, and
Mulrady, sitting either
astride or in some position they found more
comfortable.
Wilson gave an account of their investigat=
ions
aloft,
and all shared his opinion with respect to
Thalcave. The only
question was whether it was Thalcave who w=
ould
save Thaouka,
or Thaouka save Thalcave.
Their own situation meantime was much more
alarming than his.
No doubt the tree would be able to resist =
the
current, but the waters
might rise higher and higher, till the top=
most
branches were covered,
for the depression of the soil made this p=
art
of the plain a
deep reservoir. Glenarvan's first care, consequent=
ly,
was to make
notches by which to ascertain the progress=
of
the inundation.
For the present it was stationary, having
apparently reached its height.
This was reassuring.
"And now what are we going to do?&quo=
t;
said Glenarvan.
"Make our nest, of course!" repl=
ied
Paganel
"Make our nest!" exclaimed Rober=
t.
"Certainly, my boy, and live the life=
of
birds, since we can't
that of fishes."
"All very well, but who will fill our
bills for us?" said Glenarvan.
"I will," said the Major.
All eyes turned toward him immediately, and
there he sat in a natural
arm-chair, formed of two elastic boughs,
holding out his ALFORJAS damp,
but still intact.
"Oh, McNabbs, that's just like you,&q=
uot;
exclaimed Glenarvan,
"you think of everything even under
circumstances which would
drive all out of your head."
"Since it was settled we were not goi=
ng
to be drowned,
I had no intention of starving of
hunger."
"I should have thought of it, too,&qu=
ot;
said Paganel, "but I
am so DISTRAIT."
"And what is in the ALFORJAS?" a=
sked
Tom Austin.
"Food enough to last seven men for two
days," replied McNabbs.
"And I hope the inundation will have =
gone
down in twenty-four hours,"
said Glenarvan.
"Or that we shall have found some way=
of
regaining terra firma,"
added Paganel.
"Our first business, then, now is to =
breakfast,"
said Glenarvan.
"I suppose you mean after we have made
ourselves dry,"
observed the Major.
"And where's the fire?" asked
Wilson.
"We must make it," returned Paga=
nel.
"Where?"
"On the top of the trunk, of
course."
"And what with?"
"With the dead wood we cut off the
tree."
"But how will you kindle it?" as=
ked
Glenarvan. "Our tinder
is just like wet sponge."
"We can dispense with it," repli=
ed
Paganel. "We only want a
little
dry moss and a ray of sunshine, and the le=
ns
of my telescope,
and you'll see what a fire I'll get to dry
myself by.
Who will go and cut wood in the forest?&qu=
ot;
"I will," said Robert.
And off he scampered like a young cat into=
the
depths of the foliage,
followed by his friend Wilson. Paganel set to work to find dry mo=
ss,
and had soon gathered sufficient. This he laid on a bed of damp leav=
es,
just where the large branches began to fork
out, forming a natural hearth,
where there was little fear of conflagrati=
on.
Robert and Wilson speedily reappeared, each
with an armful of
dry wood, which they threw on the moss.
it was easily kindled, for the sun was bla=
zing
overhead.
In order to ensure a proper draught, Pagan=
el
stood over
the hearth with his long legs straddled ou=
t in
the Arab manner.
Then stooping down and raising himself wit=
h a
rapid motion,
he made a violent current of air with his
poncho,
which made the wood take fire, and soon a
bright flame
roared in the improvised brasier. After drying themselves,
each in his own fashion, and hanging their=
ponchos
on the tree,
where they were swung to and fro in the
breeze, they breakfasted,
carefully however rationing out the
provisions, for the morrow
had to be thought of; the immense basin mi=
ght
not empty so soon
as Glenarvan expected, and, anyway, the su=
pply
was very limited.
The OMBU produced no fruit, though
fortunately, it would likely
abound in fresh eggs, thanks to the numero=
us
nests stowed away
among the leaves, not to speak of their
feathered proprietors.
These resources were by no means to be des=
pised.
The next business was to install themselve=
s as
comfortably as they could,
in prospect of a long stay.
"As the kitchen and dining-room are on
the ground floor,"
said Paganel, "we must sleep on the f=
irst
floor. The house is large,
and as the rent is not dear, we must not c=
ramp
ourselves for room.
I can see up yonder natural cradles, in wh=
ich
once safely tucked
up we shall sleep as if we were in the best
beds in the world.
We have nothing to fear. Besides, we will watch, and we are
numerous
enough to repulse a fleet of Indians and o=
ther
wild animals."
"We only want fire-arms."
"I have my revolvers," said
Glenarvan.
"And I have mine," replied Rober=
t.
"But what's the good of them?" s=
aid
Tom Austin, "unless Monsieur Paganel
can find out some way of making powder.&qu=
ot;
"We don't need it," replied McNa=
bbs,
exhibiting a powder flask
in a perfect state of preservation.
"Where did you get it from, Major,&qu=
ot;
asked Paganel.
"From Thalcave. He thought it might be useful to u=
s, and
gave it
to me before he plunged into the water to =
save
Thaouka."
"Generous, brave Indian!" exclai=
med
Glenarvan.
"Yes," replied Tom Austin, "=
;if
all the Patagonians are cut
after the same pattern, I must compliment
Patagonia."
"I protest against leaving out the
horse," said Paganel. &q=
uot;He
is part
and parcel of the Patagonian, and I'm much
mistaken if we don't see
them again, the one on the other's back.&q=
uot;
"What distance are we from the
Atlantic?" asked the Major.
"About forty miles at the outside,&qu=
ot;
replied Paganel; "and now,
friends, since this is Liberty Hall, I beg=
to
take leave of you.
I am going to choose an observatory for my=
self
up there,
and by the help of my telescope, let you k=
now
how things are
going on in the world."
Forthwith the geographer set off, hoisting
himself up very cleverly
from bough to bough, till he disappeared
beyond the thick foliage.
His companions began to arrange the night
quarters, and prepare
their beds. But this was neither a long nor
difficult task,
and very soon they resumed their seats rou=
nd
the fire to have a talk.
As usual their theme was Captain Grant.
water subside, they would be on board the
DUNCAN once more.
But Harry Grant and his two sailors, those
poor shipwrecked fellows,
would not be with them. Indeed, it even seemed after this =
ill
success
and this useless journey across America, t=
hat
all chance of finding
them was gone forever. Where could they commence a fresh =
quest?
What grief Lady Helena and Mary Grant would
feel on hearing there
was no further hope.
"Poor sister!" said Robert. "It is all up with us."<= o:p>
For the first time Glenarvan could not find
any comfort to give him.
What could he say to the lad?
Had they not searched exactly where the
document stated?
"And yet," he said, "this
thirty-seventh degree of latitude
is not a mere figure, and that it applies =
to
the shipwreck
or captivity of Harry Grant, is no mere gu=
ess
or supposition.
We read it with our own eyes."
"All very true, your Honor," rep=
lied
Tom Austin, "and yet our search
has been unsuccessful."
"It is both a provoking and hopeless
business," replied Glenarvan.
"Provoking enough, certainly," s=
aid
the Major, "but not hopeless.
It is precisely because we have an
uncon-testable figure, provided for us,
that we should follow it up to the end.&qu=
ot;
"What do you mean?" asked
Glenarvan. "What more ca=
n we
do?"
"A very logical and simple thing, my =
dear
Edward. When we
go on board the DUNCAN, turn her beak head=
to
the east,
and go right along the thirty-seventh para=
llel
till we come
back to our starting point if necessary.&q=
uot;
"Do you suppose that I have not thoug=
ht
of that, Mr. McNabbs?"
replied Glenarvan. "Yes, a hundred times. But what chance is
there of success? To leave the American continent,
wouldn't it
be to go away from the very spot indicated=
by
Harry Grant,
from this very Patagonia so distinctly nam=
ed
in the document."
"And would you recommence your search=
in
the Pampas, when you
have the certainty that the shipwreck of t=
he
BRITANNIA neither
occurred on the coasts of the Pacific nor =
the
Atlantic?"
Glenarvan was silent.
"And however small the chance of find=
ing
Harry Grant by following
up the given parallel, ought we not to
try?"
"I don't say no," replied Glenar=
van.
"And are you not of my opinion, good
friends," added the Major,
addressing the sailors.
"Entirely," said Tom Austin, whi=
le
Mulrady and Wilson gave
an assenting nod.
"Listen to me, friends," said
Glenarvan after a few minutes'
reflection; "and remember, Robert, th=
is
is a grave discussion.
I will do my utmost to find Captain Grant;=
I
am pledged to it,
and will devote my whole life to the task =
if
needs be. All Scotland
would unite with me to save so devoted a s=
on
as he has been to her.
I too quite think with you that we must fo=
llow
the thirty-seventh
parallel round the globe if necessary, how=
ever
slight our chance
of finding him. But that is not the question we ha=
ve to
settle.
There is one much more important than that
is--should we from this time,
and all together, give up our search on the
American continent?"
No one made any reply. Each one seemed afraid to pronounc=
e the
word.
"Well?" resumed Glenarvan,
addressing himself especially to the Major.
"My dear Edward," replied McNabb=
s,
"it would be incurring
too great a responsibility for me to reply=
hic
et nunc.
It is a question which requires
reflection. I must know first=
,
through which countries the thirty-seventh
parallel of
southern latitude passes?"
"That's Paganel's business; he will t=
ell
you that," said Glenarvan.
"Let's ask him, then," replied t=
he
Major.
But the learned geographer was nowhere to =
be
seen.
He was hidden among the thick leafage of t=
he
OMBU, and they
must call out if they wanted him.
"Paganel, Paganel!" shouted
Glenarvan.
"Here," replied a voice that see=
med
to come from the clouds.
"Where are you?"
"In my tower."
"What are you doing there?"
"Examining the wide horizon."
"Could you come down for a minute?&qu=
ot;
"Do you want me?"
"Yes."
"What for?"
"To know what countries the
thirty-seventh parallel passes through."
"That's easily said. I need not disturb myself to come =
down
for that."
"Very well, tell us now."
"Listen, then. After leaving America the thirty-s=
eventh
parallel
crosses the Atlantic Ocean."
"And then?"
"It encounters Isle Tristan
d'Acunha."
"Yes."
"It goes on two degrees below the Cap=
e of
Good Hope."
"And afterwards?"
"Runs across the Indian Ocean, and ju=
st
touches Isle St. Pierre,
in the Amsterdam group."
"Go on."
"It cuts Australia by the province of
Victoria."
"And then."
"After leaving Australia in--"
This last sentence was not completed. Was the geographer hesitating,
or didn't he know what to say?
No; but a terrible cry resounded from the =
top
of the tree.
Glenarvan and his friends turned pale and
looked at each other.
What fresh catastrophe had happened now? Had the unfortunate
Paganel slipped his footing?
Already Wilson and Mulrady had rushed to h=
is
rescue when his long
body appeared tumbling down from branch to
branch.
But was he living or dead, for his hands m=
ade
no attempt to seize
anything to stop himself. A few minutes more, and he would
have fallen into the roaring waters had not
the Major's strong
arm barred his passage.
"Much obliged, McNabbs," said
Paganel.
"How's this? What is the matter with you? What came over you?
Another of your absent fits."
"Yes, yes," replied Paganel, in a
voice almost inarticulate with emotion.
"Yes, but this was something
extraordinary."
"What was it?"
"I said we had made a mistake. We are making it still,
and have been all along."
"Explain yourself."
"Glenarvan, Major, Robert, my
friends," exclaimed Paganel,
"all you that hear me, we are looking=
for
Captain Grant where
he is not to be found."
"What do you say?" exclaimed
Glenarvan.
"Not only where he is not now, but wh=
ere
he has never been."
PROFOUND astonishment greeted these unexpe=
cted
words of the
learned geographer. What could he mean? Had he lost his sense?
He spoke with such conviction, however, th=
at
all eyes turned
toward Glenarvan, for Paganel's affirmation
was a direct answer
to his question, but Glenarvan shook his h=
ead,
and said nothing,
though evidently he was not inclined to fa=
vor
his friend's views.
"Yes," began Paganel again, as s=
oon
as he had recovered himself a little;
"yes, we have gone a wrong track, and
read on the document what
was never there."
"Explain yourself, Paganel," said
the Major, "and more calmly
if you can."
"The thing is very simple, Major. Like you, I was in error; like you=
,
I had rushed at a false interpretation, un=
til
about an instant ago,
on the top of the tree, when I was answeri=
ng
your questions, just as I
pronounced the word 'Australia,' a sudden
flash came across my mind,
and the document became clear as day."=
;
"What!" exclaimed Glenarvan,
"you mean to say that Harry Grant--"
"I mean to say," replied Paganel,
"that the word AUSTRAL that occurs
in the document is not a complete word, as=
we
have supposed up till now,
but just the root of the word AUSTRALIE.&q=
uot;
"Well, that would be strange," s=
aid
the Major.
"Strange!" repeated Glenarvan,
shrugging his shoulders;
"it is simply impossible."
"Impossible?" returned Paganel.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "That is a word we don't
allow in France."
"What!" continued Glenarvan, in a
tone of the most profound incredulity,
"you dare to contend, with the docume=
nt
in your hand, that the shipwreck
of the BRITANNIA happened on the shores of
Australia."
"I am sure of it," replied Pagan=
el.
"My conscience," exclaimed
Glenarvan, "I must say I am surprised
at such a declaration from the Secretary o=
f a
Geographical Society!"
"And why so?" said Paganel, touc=
hed
in his weak point.
"Because, if you allow the word
AUSTRALIE! you must also allow
the word INDIENS, and Indians are never se=
en
there."
Paganel was not the least surprised at this
rejoinder.
Doubtless he expected it, for he began to =
smile,
and said:
"My dear Glenarvan, don't triumph ove=
r me
too fast.
I am going to floor you completely, and ne=
ver
was an
Englishman more thoroughly defeated than y=
ou
will be.
It will be the revenge for Cressy and
Agincourt."
"I wish nothing better. Take your revenge, Paganel."<= o:p>
"Listen, then. In the text of the document, there=
is
neither mention
of the Indians nor of Patagonia! The incomplete word INDI does not<= o:p>
mean INDIENS, but of course, INDIGENES,
aborigines! Now, do you admit=
that there are aborigines in Australia?&qu=
ot;
"Bravo, Paganel!" said the Major=
.
"Well, do you agree to my interpretat=
ion,
my dear Lord?"
asked the geographer again.
"Yes," replied Glenarvan, "=
if
you will prove to me that the fragment
of a word GONIE, does not refer to the cou=
ntry
of the Patagonians."
"Certainly it does not. It has nothing to do with
Patagonia,"
said Paganel. "Read it any way you please e=
xcept
that."
"How?"
"Cosmogonie, theogonie, agonie."=
"AGONIE," said the Major.
"I don't care which," returned
Paganel. "The word is
quite unimportant; I will not even try to =
find
out its meaning.
The main point is that AUSTRAL means
AUSTRALIE, and we must
have gone blindly on a wrong track not to =
have
discovered
the explanation at the very beginning, it =
was
so evident.
If I had found the document myself, and my
judgment had not
been misled by your interpretation, I shou=
ld
never have
read it differently."
A burst of hurrahs, and congratulations, a=
nd
compliments followed
Paganel's words. Austin and the sailors, and the Ma=
jor and
Robert,
most all overjoyed at this fresh hope,
applauded him heartily;
while even Glenarvan, whose eyes were
gradually getting open,
was almost prepared to give in.
"I only want to know one thing more, =
my
dear Paganel," he said,
"and then I must bow to your
perspicacity."
"What is it?"
"How will you group the words together
according to your
new interpretation? How will the document read?"<= o:p>
"Easily enough answered. Here is the document," replied
Paganel,
taking out the precious paper he had been =
studying
so conscientiously
for the last few days.
For a few minutes there was complete silen=
ce,
while the worthy
SAVANT took time to collect his thoughts
before complying with
his lordship's request. Then putting his finger on the wor=
ds,
and emphasizing some of them, he began as
follows:
"'Le 7 juin 1862 le trois-mats Britan=
nia
de Glasgow a sombre apres,'--
put, if you please, 'deux jours, trois jou=
rs,'
or 'une longue agonie,'
it doesn't signify, it is quite a matter of
indifference,--'sur
les cotes de l'Australie. Se dirigeant a
terre, deux matelots et
le Capitaine Grant vont essayer d'aborder,=
' or
'ont aborde le
continent ou ils seront,' or, 'sont
prisonniers de cruels indigenes.
Ils ont jete ce documents,' etc. Is that clear?"
"Clear enough," replied Glenarva=
n,
"if the word continent can
be applied to Australia, which is only an
island."
"Make yourself easy about that, my de=
ar
Glenarvan; the best geographers
have agreed to call the island the Austral=
ian
Continent."
"Then all I have now to say is, my fr=
iends,"
said Glenarvan,
"away to Australia, and may Heaven he=
lp
us!"
"To Australia!" echoed his
companions, with one voice.
"I tell you what, Paganel," added
Glenarvan, "your being on board
the DUNCAN is a perfect providence."<= o:p>
"All right. Look on me as a messenger of provi=
dence,
and let
us drop the subject."
So the conversation ended--a conversation
which great results
were to follow; it completely changed the
moral condition of
the travelers; it gave the clew of the
labyrinth in which they
had thought themselves hopelessly entangle=
d,
and, amid their
ruined projects, inspired them with fresh
hope. They could
now quit the American Continent without the
least hesitation,
and already their thoughts had flown to the
Australias. In going
on board the DUNCAN again they would not b=
ring
despair with them,
and Lady Helena and Mary Grant would not h=
ave
to mourn the irrevocable
loss of Captain Grant. This thought so filled them with j=
oy
that they forgot all the dangers of their
actual situation,
and only regretted that they could not sta=
rt
immediately.
It was about four o'clock in the afternoon,
and they determined
to have supper at six. Paganel wished to get up a splendid
spread
in honor of the occasion, but as the mater=
ials
were very scanty,
he proposed to Robert to go and hunt in the
neighboring forest.
Robert clapped his hands at the idea, so t=
hey
took Thalcave's
powder flask, cleaned the revolvers and lo=
aded
them with small shot,
and set off.
"Don't go too far," said the Maj=
or,
gravely, to the two hunters.
After their departure, Glenarvan and McNab=
bs
went down to examine
the state of the water by looking at the
notches they had made
on the tree, and Wilson and Mulrady
replenished the fire.
No sign of decrease appeared on the surfac=
e of
the immense lake,
yet the flood seemed to have reached its
maximum height;
but the violence with which it rushed from=
the
south to north proved
that the equilibrium of the Argentine rive=
rs
was not restored.
Before getting lower the liquid mass must
remain stationary,
as in the case with the ocean before the e=
bb
tide commences.
While Glenarvan and his cousin were making
these observations,
the report of firearms resounded frequently
above their heads,
and the jubilant outcries of the two
sportsmen--for Paganel was every
whit as much a child as Robert. They were having a fine time of it=
among the thick leaves, judging by the pea=
ls
of laughter which rang
out in the boy's clear treble voice and
Paganel's deep bass.
The chase was evidently successful, and
wonders in culinary
art might be expected. Wilson had a good idea to begin wi=
th,
which he had skilfully carried out; for wh=
en
Glenarvan came back
to the brasier, he found that the brave fe=
llow
had actually
managed to catch, with only a pin and a pi=
ece
of string,
several dozen small fish, as delicate as
smelts, called MOJARRAS,
which were all jumping about in a fold of =
his
poncho, ready to be
converted into an exquisite dish.
At the same moment the hunters
reappeared. Paganel was caref=
ully
carrying some black swallows' eggs, and a
string of sparrows,
which he meant to serve up later under the
name of field larks.
Robert had been clever enough to bring down
several brace of HILGUEROS,
small green and yellow birds, which are
excellent eating, and greatly
in demand in the Montevideo market. Paganel, who knew fifty ways
of dressing eggs, was obliged for this onc=
e to
be content with simply
hardening them on the hot embers. But notwithstanding this,
the viands at the meal were both dainty and
varied. The dried beef,
hard eggs, grilled MOJARRAS, sparrows, and
roast HILGUEROS,
made one of those gala feasts the memory of
which is imperishable.
The conversation was very animated. Many compliments were paid
Paganel on his twofold talents as hunter a=
nd
cook, which the SAVANT
accepted with the modesty which characteri=
zes
true merit.
Then he turned the conversation on the
peculiarities of the OMBU,
under whose canopy they had found shelter,=
and
whose depths
he declared were immense.
"Robert and I," he added, jestin=
gly,
"thought ourselves
hunting in the open forest. I was afraid, for the minute,
we should lose ourselves, for I could not =
find
the road.
The sun was sinking below the horizon; I
sought vainly for footmarks;
I began to feel the sharp pangs of hunger,=
and
the gloomy depths
of the forest resounded already with the r=
oar
of wild beasts.
No, not that; there are no wild beasts her=
e, I
am sorry to say."
"What!" exclaimed Glenarvan,
"you are sorry there are no wild beasts?"
"Certainly I am."
"And yet we should have every reason =
to
dread their ferocity."
"Their ferocity is non-existent,
scientifically speaking,"
replied the learned geographer.
"Now come, Paganel," said the Ma=
jor,
"you'll never make me admit
the utility of wild beasts. What good are they?"
"Why, Major," exclaimed Paganel,
"for purposes of classification
into orders, and families, and species, and
sub-species."
"A mighty advantage, certainly!"
replied McNabbs, "I could dispense
with all that. If I had been one of Noah's compan=
ions
at the time of
the deluge, I should most assuredly have
hindered the imprudent patriarch
from putting in pairs of lions, and tigers,
and panthers, and bears,
and such animals, for they are as malevole=
nt
as they are useless."
"You would have done that?" asked
Paganel.
"Yes, I would."
"Well, you would have done wrong in a
zoological point
of view," returned Paganel.
"But not in a humanitarian one,"
rejoined the Major.
"It is shocking!" replied
Paganel. "Why, for my pa=
rt,
on the contrary, I should have taken speci=
al
care to preserve
megatheriums and pterodactyles, and all the
antediluvian species
of which we are unfortunately deprived by =
his
neglect."
"And I say," returned McNabbs,
"that Noah did a very good thing
when he abandoned them to their fate--that=
is,
if they lived
in his day."
"And I say he did a very bad thing,&q=
uot;
retorted Paganel, "and he has
justly merited the malediction of SAVANTS =
to
the end of time!"
The rest of the party could not help laugh=
ing
at hearing the two
friends disputing over old Noah. Contrary to all his principles,
the Major, who all his life had never disp=
uted
with anyone,
was always sparring with Paganel. The geographer seemed to have
a peculiarly exciting effect on him.
Glenarvan, as usual, always the peacemaker,
interfered in
the debate, and said:
"Whether the loss of ferocious animal=
s is
to be regretted or not,
in a scientific point of view, there is no
help for it now;
we must be content to do without them. Paganel can hardly expect
to meet with wild beasts in this aerial
forest."
"Why not?" asked the geographer.=
"Wild beasts on a tree!" exclaim=
ed
Tom Austin.
"Yes, undoubtedly. The American tiger, the jaguar,
takes refuge in the trees, when the chase =
gets
too hot for him.
It is quite possible that one of these
animals, surprised by
the inundation, might have climbed up into
this OMBU, and be
hiding now among its thick foliage."<= o:p>
"You haven't met any of them, at any
rate, I suppose?"
said the Major.
"No," replied Paganel, "tho=
ugh
we hunted all through the wood.
It is vexing, for it would have been a spl=
endid
chase.
A jaguar is a bloodthirsty, ferocious
creature. He can
twist the neck of a horse with a single st=
roke
of his paw.
When he has once tasted human flesh he sce=
nts
it greedily.
He likes to eat an Indian best, and next to
him a negro,
then a mulatto, and last of all a white
man."
"I am delighted to hear we come number
four," said McNabbs.
"That only proves you are insipid,&qu=
ot;
retorted Paganel,
with an air of disdain.
"I am delighted to be insipid," =
was
the Major's reply.
"Well, it is humiliating enough,"
said the intractable Paganel.
"The white man proclaimed himself chi=
ef
of the human race;
but Mr. Jaguar is of a different opinion it
seems."
"Be that as it may, my brave Paganel,
seeing there are
neither Indians, nor negroes, nor mulattoes
among us,
I am quite rejoiced at the absence of your
beloved jaguars.
Our situation is not so particularly
agreeable."
"What! not agreeable!" exclaimed
Paganel, jumping at
the word as likely to give a new turn to t=
he
conversation.
"You are complaining of your lot,
Glenarvan."
"I should think so, indeed," rep= lied Glenarvan. "Do you find<= o:p>
these uncomfortable hard branches very
luxurious?"
"I have never been more comfortable, =
even
in my study.
We live like the birds, we sing and fly
about. I begin to believe
men were intended to live on trees."<= o:p>
"But they want wings," suggested=
the
Major.
"They'll make them some day."
"And till then," put in Glenarva=
n,
"with your leave, I prefer
the gravel of a park, or the floor of a ho=
use,
or the deck of a ship,
to this aerial dwelling."
"We must take things as they come,
Glenarvan," returned Paganel.
"If good, so much the better; if bad,
never mind. Ah, I see you
are wishing you had all the comforts of
Malcolm Castle."
"No, but--"
"I am quite certain Robert is perfect=
ly happy,"
interrupted Paganel,
eager to insure one partisan at least.
"Yes, that I am!" exclaimed Robe=
rt,
in a joyous tone.
"At his age it is quite natural,"
replied Glenarvan.
"And at mine, too," returned the
geographer. "The fewer
one's comforts, the fewer one's needs; and=
the
fewer one's needs,
the greater one's happiness."
"Now, now," said the Major,
"here is Paganel running a tilt
against riches and gilt ceilings."
"No, McNabbs," replied the SAVAN=
T,
"I'm not; but if you like,
I'll tell you a little Arabian story that
comes into my mind,
very APROPOS this minute."
"Oh, do, do," said Robert.
"And what is your story to prove,
Paganel?" inquired the Major.
"Much what all stories prove, my brave
comrade."
"Not much then," rejoined
McNabbs. "But go on,
Scheherazade, and tell
us the story."
"There was once," said Paganel,
"a son of the great Haroun-al-Raschid,
who was unhappy, and went to consult an old
Dervish. The old sage
told him that happiness was a difficult th=
ing
to find in this world.
'However,' he added, 'I know an infallible
means of procuring
your happiness.' 'What is it?' asked the young
Prince. 'It is
to put the shirt of a happy man on your
shoulders.'
Whereupon the Prince embraced the old man,=
and
set out at once to search
for his talisman. He visited all the capital cities =
in the
world.
He tried on the shirts of kings, and emper=
ors,
and princes and nobles;
but all in vain: he could not find a man among them=
that
was happy.
Then he put on the shirts of artists, and
warriors, and merchants;
but these were no better. By this time he had traveled a lon=
g way,
without finding what he sought. At last he began to despair of suc=
cess,
and began sorrowfully to retrace his steps
back to his father's palace,
when one day he heard an honest peasant
singing so merrily
as he drove the plow, that he thought, 'Su=
rely
this man is happy,
if there is such a thing as happiness on
earth.' Forthwith he
accosted him, and said, 'Are you happy?' 'Yes,' was the reply.
'There is nothing you desire?' 'Nothing.' 'You would not change your
lot for that of a king?' 'Never!' 'Well, then, sell me your shirt.'<= o:p>
'My shirt! I haven't one!'"
BEFORE turning into "their nest,"=
; as
Paganel had called it, he,
and Robert, and Glenarvan climbed up into =
the
observatory to have
one more inspection of the liquid plain. It was about nine o'clock;
the sun had just sunk behind the glowing m=
ists
of the western horizon.
The eastern horizon was gradually assuming=
a
most stormy aspect.
A thick dark bar of cloud was rising higher
and higher, and by degrees
extinguishing the stars. Before long half the sky was overs=
pread.
Evidently motive power lay in the cloud
itself, for there was
not a breath of wind. Absolute calm reigned in the atmos=
phere;
not a leaf stirred on the tree, not a ripp=
le
disturbed the surface
of the water. There seemed to be scarcely any air
even,
as though some vast pneumatic machine had
rarefied it.
The entire atmosphere was charged to the
utmost with electricity,
the presence of which sent a thrill through
the whole nervous
system of all animated beings.
"We are going to have a storm," =
said
Paganel.
"You're not afraid of thunder, are yo=
u,
Robert?" asked Glenarvan.
"No, my Lord!" exclaimed
Robert. "Well, my boy, s=
o much
the better,
for a storm is not far off."
"And a violent one, too," added
Paganel, "if I may judge
by the look of things."
"It is not the storm I care about,&qu=
ot;
said Glenarvan,
"so much as the torrents of rain that
will accompany it.
We shall be soaked to the skin. Whatever you may say, Paganel,
a nest won't do for a man, and you will le=
arn
that soon,
to your cost."
"With the help of philosophy, it
will," replied Paganel.
"Philosophy! that won't keep you from
getting drenched."
"No, but it will warm you."
"Well," said Glenarvan, "we=
had
better go down to our friends,
and advise them to wrap themselves up in t=
heir
philosophy and their
ponchos as tightly as possible, and above =
all,
to lay in a stock
of patience, for we shall need it before v=
ery
long."
Glenarvan gave a last glance at the angry
sky. The clouds now covered
it entirely; only a dim streak of light sh=
one
faintly in the west.
A dark shadow lay on the water, and it cou=
ld
hardly be distinguished from
the thick vapors above it. There was no sensation of light or
sound.
All was darkness and silence around.
"Let us go down," said Glenarvan;
"the thunder will soon burst over us."
On returning to the bottom of the tree, th=
ey
found themselves,
to their great surprise, in a sort of dim
twilight, produced by
myriads of luminous specks which appeared
buzzing confusedly
over the surface of the water.
"It is phosphorescence, I suppose,&qu=
ot;
said Glenarvan.
"No, but phosphorescent insects, posi=
tive
glow-worms, living diamonds,
which the ladies of Buenos Ayres convert i=
nto
magnificent ornaments."
"What!" exclaimed Robert,
"those sparks flying about are insects!"
"Yes, my boy."
Robert caught one in his hand, and found
Paganel was right.
It was a kind of large drone, an inch long,
and the Indians
call it "tuco-tuco." This curious
specimen of the COLEOPTERA
sheds its radiance from two spots in the f=
ront
of its
breast-plate, and the light is sufficient =
to
read by.
Holding his watch close to the insect, Pag=
anel
saw distinctly
that the time was 10 P. M.
On rejoining the Major and his three sailo=
rs,
Glenarvan warned
them of the approaching storm, and advised
them to secure
themselves in their beds of branches as fi=
rmly
as possible,
for there was no doubt that after the first
clap of thunder the wind
would become unchained, and the OMBU would=
be
violently shaken.
Though they could not defend themselves fr=
om
the waters above,
they might at least keep out of the rushing
current beneath.
They wished one another
"good-night," though hardly daring to hope for it,
and then each one rolled himself in his po=
ncho
and lay down to sleep.
But the approach of the great phenomena of
nature excites
vague uneasiness in the heart of every
sentient being,
even in the most strong-minded. The whole
party in the OMBU
felt agitated and oppressed, and not one of
them could close
his eyes.=
The first peal of thunder found them wide awake.
It occurred about 11 P. M., and sounded li=
ke a
distant rolling.
Glenarvan ventured to creep out of the
sheltering foliage,
and made his way to the extremity of the
horizontal branch
to take a look round.
The deep blackness of the night was already
scarified with sharp bright
lines, which were reflected back by the wa=
ter
with unerring exactness.
The clouds had rent in many parts, but
noiselessly, like some soft
cotton material. After attentively observing both t=
he
zenith and horizon,
Glenarvan went back to the center of the
trunk.
"Well, Glenarvan, what's your
report?" asked Paganel.
"I say it is beginning in good earnes=
t,
and if it goes on so we
shall have a terrible storm."
"So much the better," replied the
enthusiastic Paganel; "I should
like a grand exhibition, since we can't run
away."
"That's another of your theories,&quo=
t;
said the Major.
"And one of my best, McNabbs. I am of Glenarvan's opinion,
that the storm will be superb. Just a minute ago, when I
was trying to sleep, several facts occurre=
d to
my memory,
that make me hope it will, for we are in t=
he
region of great
electrical tempests. For instance, I have read somewher=
e,
that in 1793, in this very province of Bue=
nos
Ayres,
lightning struck thirty-seven times during=
one
single storm.
My colleague, M. Martin de Moussy, counted
fifty-five minutes
of uninterrupted rolling."
"Watch in hand?" asked the Major=
.
"Watch in hand. Only one thing makes me uneasy,&qu=
ot;
added Paganel,
"if it is any use to be uneasy, and t=
hat
is, that the culminating
point of this plain, is just this very OMBU
where we are.
A lightning conductor would be very
serviceable to us at present.
For it is this tree especially, among all =
that
grow in the Pampas,
that the thunder has a particular affection
for. Besides, I need
not tell you, friend, that learned men tel=
l us
never to take refuge
under trees during a storm."
"Most seasonable advice, certainly, in
our circumstances,"
said the Major.
"I must confess, Paganel," repli=
ed
Glenarvan, "that you might
have chosen a better time for this reassur=
ing
information."
"Bah!" replied Paganel, "all
times are good for getting information.
Ha! now it's beginning."
Louder peals of thunder interrupted this
inopportune conversation,
the violence increasing with the noise till
the whole atmosphere
seemed to vibrate with rapid oscillations.=
The incessant flashes of lightning took
various forms.
Some darted down perpendicularly from the =
sky
five or six
times in the same place in succession. Others would have
excited the interest of a SAVANT to the
highest degree,
for though Arago, in his curious statistic=
s,
only cites two examples
of forked lightning, it was visible here
hundreds of times.
Some of the flashes branched out in a thou=
sand
different directions,
making coralliform zigzags, and threw out
wonderful jets
of arborescent light.
Soon the whole sky from east to north seem=
ed
supported by a phosphoric
band of intense brilliancy. This kept increasing by degrees ti=
ll it
overspread the entire horizon, kindling the
clouds which were faithfully
mirrored in the waters as if they were mas=
ses
of combustible material,
beneath, and presented the appearance of an
immense globe of fire,
the center of which was the OMBU.
Glenarvan and his companions gazed silentl=
y at
this terrifying spectacle.
They could not make their voices heard, but
the sheets of white light
which enwrapped them every now and then,
revealed the face of one and
another, sometimes the calm features of the
Major, sometimes the eager,
curious glance of Paganel, or the energetic
face of Glenarvan,
and at others, the scared eyes of the
terrified Robert, and the careless
looks of the sailors, investing them with a
weird, spectral aspect.
However, as yet, no rain had fallen, and t=
he
wind had not risen in
the least. But this state of things was of sh=
ort
duration; before long
the cataracts of the sky burst forth, and =
came
down in vertical streams.
As the large drops fell splashing into the
lake, fiery sparks seemed
to fly out from the illuminated surface.
Was the rain the FINALE of the storm? If so, Glenarvan and his
companions would escape scot free, except =
for
a few vigorous
douche baths. No. At the very height of this str=
uggle
of the
electric forces of the atmosphere, a large
ball of fire appeared
suddenly at the extremity of the horizontal
parent branch,
as thick as a man's wrist, and surrounded =
with
black smoke.
This ball, after turning round and round f=
or a
few seconds,
burst like a bombshell, and with so much n=
oise
that the explosion
was distinctly audible above the general
FRACAS. A sulphurous
smoke filled the air, and complete silence
reigned till the voice
of Tom Austin was heard shouting:
"The tree is on fire."
Tom was right. In a moment, as if some fireworks =
were
being ignited,
the flame ran along the west side of the O=
MBU;
the dead wood and nests
of dried grass, and the whole sap, which w=
as
of a spongy texture,
supplied food for its devouring activity.<= o:p>
The wind had risen now and fanned the
flame. It was time to flee,
and Glenarvan and his party hurried away to
the eastern side
of their refuge, which was meantime untouc=
hed
by the fire.
They were all silent, troubled, and terrif=
ied,
as they watched
branch after branch shrivel, and crack, and
writhe in the flame like
living serpents, and then drop into the
swollen torrent, still red
and gleaming, as it was borne swiftly alon=
g on
the rapid current.
The flames sometimes rose to a prodigious
height, and seemed almost
lost in the atmosphere, and sometimes, bea=
ten
down by the hurricane,
closely enveloped the OMBU like a robe of
Nessus. Terror seized
the entire group. They were almost suffocated with s=
moke,
and scorched with the unbearable heat, for=
the
conflagration
had already reached the lower branches on
their side of
the OMBU.=
To extinguish it or check its progress was impossible;
and they saw themselves irrevocably condem=
ned
to a torturing death,
like the victims of Hindoo divinities.
At last, their situation was absolutely
intolerable.
Of the two deaths staring them in the face,
they had better
choose the less cruel.
"To the water!" exclaimed Glenar=
van.
Wilson, who was nearest the flames, had
already plunged into the lake,
but next minute he screamed out in the most
violent terror:
"Help! Help!"
Austin rushed toward him, and with the
assistance of the Major,
dragged him up again on the tree.
"What's the matter?" they asked.=
"Alligators! alligators!" replied
Wilson.
The whole foot of the tree appeared to be
surrounded by these
formidable animals of the Saurian order. By the glare of the flames,
they were immediately recognized by Pagane=
l,
as the ferocious species
peculiar to America, called CAIMANS in the
Spanish territories.
About ten of them were there, lashing the
water with their powerful tails,
and attacking the OMBU with the long teeth=
of
their lower jaw.
At this sight the unfortunate men gave
themselves up to be lost.
A frightful death was in store for them, s=
ince
they must either
be devoured by the fire or by the caimans.=
Even the Major said,
in a calm voice:
"This is the beginning of the end,
now."
There are circumstances in which men are
powerless, when the
unchained elements can only be combated by
other elements.
Glenarvan gazed with haggard looks at the =
fire
and water leagued
against him, hardly knowing what deliveran=
ce
to implore from Heaven.
The violence of the storm had abated, but =
it
had developed
in the atmosphere a considerable quantity =
of
vapors,
to which electricity was about to communic=
ate
immense force.
An enormous water-spout was gradually form=
ing
in the south--
a cone of thick mists, but with the point =
at
the bottom,
and base at the top, linking together the
turbulent water
and the angry clouds. This meteor soon began to move for=
ward,
turning over and over on itself with dizzy
rapidity,
and sweeping up into its center a column of
water from the lake,
while its gyratory motions made all the
surrounding currents
of air rush toward it.
A few seconds more, and the gigantic
water-spout threw itself on the OMBU,
and caught it up in its whirl. The tree shook to its roots.
Glenarvan could fancy the caimans' teeth w=
ere
tearing it up from the soil;
for as he and his companions held on, each
clinging firmly to the other,
they felt the towering OMBU give way, and =
the
next minute it fell right
over with a terrible hissing noise, as the
flaming branches touched
the foaming water.
It was the work of an instant. Already the water-spout
had passed, to carry on its destructive wo=
rk
elsewhere.
It seemed to empty the lake in its passage=
, by
continually
drawing up the water into itself.
The OMBU now began to drift rapidly along,
impelled by wind
and current. All the caimans had taken their
departure,
except one that was crawling over the uptu=
rned
roots,
and coming toward the poor refugees with w=
ide
open jaws.
But Mulrady, seizing hold of a branch that=
was
half-burned off,
struck the monster such a tremendous blow,
that it fell back
into the torrent and disappeared, lashing =
the
water with
its formidable tail.
Glenarvan and his companions being thus
delivered from the
voracious SAURIANS, stationed themselves on
the branches windward
of the conflagration, while the OMBU sailed
along like a blazing
fire-ship through the dark night, the flam=
es
spreading themselves
round like sails before the breath of the
hurricane.
FOR two hours the OMBU navigated the immen=
se
lake without
reaching terra firma. The flames which were devouring it=
had gradually died out. The chief danger of their frightfu=
l
passage was thus removed, and the Major we=
nt
the length of saying,
that he should not be surprised if they we=
re
saved after all.
The direction of the current remained
unchanged, always running
from southwest to northeast. Profound darkness had again set in=
,
only illumined here and there by a parting
flash of lightning.
The storm was nearly over. The rain had given place to light =
mists,
which a breath of wind dispersed, and the
heavy masses of cloud
had separated, and now streaked the sky in
long bands.
The OMBU was borne onward so rapidly by the
impetuous torrent,
that anyone might have supposed some power=
ful
locomotive
engine was hidden in its trunk. It seemed likely enough
they might continue drifting in this way f=
or
days.
About three o'clock in the morning, howeve=
r,
the Major noticed
that the roots were beginning to graze the
ground occasionally,
and by sounding the depth of the water wit=
h a
long branch,
Tom Austin found that they were getting on
rising ground.
Twenty minutes afterward, the OMBU stopped
short with a violent jolt.
"Land! land!" shouted Paganel, i=
n a
ringing tone.
The extremity of the calcined bough had st=
ruck
some hillock,
and never were sailors more glad; the rock=
to
them was the port.
Already Robert and Wilson had leaped on to=
the
solid plateau
with a loud, joyful hurrah! when a well-kn=
own
whistle was heard.
The gallop of a horse resounded over the
plain, and the tall form
of Thalcave emerged from the darkness.
"Thalcave! Thalcave!" they all cried wit=
h one
voice.
"Amigos!" replied the Patagonian,
who had been waiting for the travelers
here in the same place where the current h=
ad
landed himself.
As he spoke he lifted up Robert in his arm=
s,
and hugged him to
his breast, never imagining that Paganel w=
as
hanging on to him.
A general and hearty hand-shaking followed,
and everyone rejoiced
at seeing their faithful guide again. Then the Patagonian led the way
into the HANGAR of a deserted ESTANCIA, wh=
ere
there was a good,
blazing fire to warm them, and a substanti=
al
meal of fine, juicy slices
of venison soon broiling, of which they did
not leave a crumb.
When their minds had calmed down a little,=
and
they were able to
reflect on the dangers they had come throu=
gh
from flood, and fire,
and alligators, they could scarcely believe
they had escaped.
Thalcave, in a few words, gave Paganel an
account of himself since
they parted, entirely ascribing his
deliverance to his intrepid horse.
Then Paganel tried to make him understand
their new interpretation
of the document, and the consequent hopes =
they
were indulging.
Whether the Indian actually understood his
ingenious hypothesis
was a question; but he saw that they were =
glad
and confident,
and that was enough for him.
As can easily be imagined, after their
compulsory rest on the OMBU,
the travelers were up betimes and ready to
start. At eight o'clock
they set off. No means of transport being procur=
able
so far south,
they were compelled to walk. However, it was not more than forty
miles
now that they had to go, and Thaouka would=
not
refuse to give a lift
occasionally to a tired pedestrian, or eve=
n to
a couple at a pinch.
In thirty-six hours they might reach the
shores of the Atlantic.
The low-lying tract of marshy ground, still
under water, soon lay
behind them, as Thalcave led them upward t=
o the
higher plains.
Here the Argentine territory resumed its
monotonous aspect.
A few clumps of trees, planted by European
hands, might chance
to be visible among the pasturage, but qui=
te
as rarely as in Tandil
and Tapalquem Sierras. The native trees are only found on=
the
edge
of long prairies and about Cape Corrientes=
.
Next day, though still fifteen miles dista=
nt,
the proximity of the ocean
was sensibly felt. The VIRAZON, a peculiar wind, which
blows regularly
half of the day and night, bent down the h=
eads
of the tall grasses.
Thinly planted woods rose to view, and sma=
ll
tree-like mimosas, bushes
of acacia, and tufts of CURRA-MANTEL. Here=
and
there, shining like pieces
of broken glass, were salinous lagoons, wh=
ich
increased the difficulty
of the journey as the travelers had to wind
round them to get past.
They pushed on as quickly as possible, hop=
ing
to reach Lake Salado,
on the shores of the ocean, the same day; =
and
at 8 P. M., when they
found themselves in front of the sand hills
two hundred feet high,
which skirt the coast, they were all toler=
ably
tired. But when the long
murmur of the distant ocean fell on their
ears, the exhausted men forgot
their fatigue, and ran up the sandhills wi=
th
surprising agility.
But it was getting quite dark already, and=
their
eager gaze could
discover no traces of the DUNCAN on the gl=
oomy
expanse of water that
met their sight.
"But she is there, for all that,"
exclaimed Glenarvan, "waiting for us,
and running alongside."
"We shall see her to-morrow,"
replied McNabbs.
Tom Austin hailed the invisible yacht, but
there was no response.
The wind was very high and the sea rough.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The clouds were scudding
along from the west, and the spray of the
waves dashed up even to the
sand-hills. It was little wonder, then, if=
the
man on the look-out could
neither hear nor make himself heard, suppo=
sing
the DUNCAN were there.
There was no shelter on the coast for her,
neither bay nor cove, nor port;
not so much as a creek. The shore was composed of sand-ban=
ks
which ran
out into the sea, and were more dangerous =
to
approach than rocky shoals.
The sand-banks irritate the waves, and make
the sea so particularly rough,
that in heavy weather vessels that run agr=
ound
there are invariably
dashed to pieces.
Though, then, the DUNCAN would keep far aw=
ay
from such
a coast, John Mangles is a prudent captain=
to
get near.
Tom Austin, however, was of the opinion th=
at
she would be able
to keep five miles out.
The Major advised his impatient relative to
restrain himself
to circumstances. Since there was no means of dissip=
ating
the darkness, what was the use of straining
his eyes by vainly
endeavoring to pierce through it.
He set to work immediately to prepare the
night's encampment
beneath the shelter of the sand-hills; the
last provisions supplied
the last meal, and afterward, each, follow=
ing
the Major's example,
scooped out a hole in the sand, which made=
a
comfortable enough bed,
and then covered himself with the soft
material up to his chin,
and fell into a heavy sleep.
But Glenarvan kept watch. There was still a stiff breeze
of wind, and the ocean had not recovered i=
ts
equilibrium
after the recent storm. The waves, at all times tumultuous=
,
now broke over the sand-banks with a noise
like thunder.
Glenarvan could not rest, knowing the DUNC=
AN
was so near him.
As to supposing she had not arrived at the
appointed rendezvous,
that was out of the question. Glenarvan had left the Bay
of Talcahuano on the 14th of October, and
arrived on the shores
of the Atlantic on the 12th of November. He had taken
thirty days to cross Chili, the Cordillera=
s,
the Pampas,
and the Argentine plains, giving the DUNCAN
ample time
to double Cape Horn, and arrive on the
opposite side.
For such a fast runner there were no
impediments.
Certainly the storm had been very violent,=
and
its fury must
have been terrible on such a vast battlefi=
eld
as the Atlantic,
but the yacht was a good ship, and the cap=
tain
was a good sailor.
He was bound to be there, and he would be
there.
These reflections, however, did not calm
Glenarvan. When the heart
and the reason are struggling, it is gener=
ally
the heart that wins
the mastery. The laird of Malcolm Castle felt t=
he
presence of loved ones
about him in the darkness as he wandered up
and down the lonely strand.
He gazed, and listened, and even fancied he
caught occasional glimpses
of a faint light.
"I am not mistaken," he said to
himself; "I saw a ship's light,
one of the lights on the DUNCAN! Oh! why can't I see in the dark?&q=
uot;
All at once the thought rushed across him =
that
Paganel said he was
a nyctalope, and could see at night. He must go and wake him.
The learned geographer was sleeping as sou=
nd
as a mole.
A strong arm pulled him up out of the sand=
and
made him call out:
"Who goes there?"
"It is I, Paganel."
"Who?"
"Glenarvan. Come, I need your eyes."
"My eyes," replied Paganel, rubb=
ing
them vigorously.
"Yes, I need your eyes to make out the
DUNCAN in this darkness, so come."
"Confound the nyctalopia!" said
Paganel, inwardly, though delighted
to be of any service to his friend.
He got up and shook his stiffened limbs, a=
nd
stretching and yawning
as most people do when roused from sleep,
followed Glenarvan
to the beach.
Glenarvan begged him to examine the distant
horizon across the sea,
which he did most conscientiously for some
minutes.
"Well, do you see nothing?" asked
Glenarvan.
"Not a thing. Even a cat couldn't see two steps =
before
her."
"Look for a red light or a green one-=
-her
larboard or starboard light."
"I see neither a red nor a green ligh=
t,
all is pitch dark,"
replied Paganel, his eyes involuntarily
beginning to close.
For half an hour he followed his impatient
friend, mechanically letting
his head frequently drop on his chest, and
raising it again with a start.
At last he neither answered nor spoke, and=
he
reeled about like a
drunken man. Glenarvan looked at him, and found=
he
was sound asleep!
Without attempting to wake him, he took his
arm, led him back to his hole,
and buried him again comfortably.
At dawn next morning, all the slumberers
started to their
feet and rushed to the shore, shouting
"Hurrah, hurrah!"
as Lord Glenarvan's loud cry, "The
DUNCAN, the DUNCAN!"
broke upon his ear.
There she was, five miles out, her courses
carefully reefed,
and her steam half up. Her smoke was lost in the morning =
mist.
The sea was so violent that a vessel of her
tonnage could not
have ventured safely nearer the sand-banks=
.
Glenarvan, by the aid of Paganel's telesco=
pe,
closely observed
the movements of the yacht. It was evident that John Mangles h=
ad
not perceived his passengers, for he conti=
nued
his course as before.
But at this very moment Thalcave fired his
carbine in the direction
of the yacht. They listened and looked, but no s=
ignal
of recognition
was returned. A second and a third time the Indi=
an
fired,
awakening the echoes among the sand-hills.=
At last a white smoke was seen issuing from
the side of the yacht.
"They see us!" exclaimed
Glenarvan. "That's the c=
annon
of the DUNCAN."
A few seconds, and the heavy boom of the
cannon came across the water
and died away on the shore. The sails were instantly altered,<= o:p>
and the steam got up, so as to get as near=
the
coast as possible.
Presently, through the glass, they saw a b=
oat
lowered.
"Lady Helena will not be able to
come," said Tom Austin.
"It is too rough."
"Nor John Mangles," added McNabb=
s;
"he cannot leave the ship."
"My sister, my sister!" cried
Robert, stretching out his arms
toward the yacht, which was now rolling
violently.
"Oh, how I wish I could get on
board!" said Glenarvan.
"Patience, Edward! you will be there =
in a
couple of hours,"
replied the Major.
Two hours! But it was impossible for a boat--a
six-oared one--
to come and go in a shorter space of time.=
Glenarvan went back to Thalcave, who stood
beside Thaouka,
with his arms crossed, looking quietly at =
the
troubled waves.
Glenarvan took his hand, and pointing to t=
he
yacht, said: "Come!"=
;
The Indian gently shook his head.
"Come, friend," repeated Glenarv=
an.
"No," said Thalcave, gently. "Here is Thaouka, and there--=
the Pampas," he added, embracing with=
a passionate
gesture
the wide-stretching prairies.
Glenarvan understood his refusal. He knew that the Indian
would never forsake the prairie, where the
bones of his fathers
were whitening, and he knew the religious
attachment of these
sons of the desert for their native land.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> He did not urge
Thalcave longer, therefore, but simply pre=
ssed
his hand.
Nor could he find it in his heart to insis=
t,
when the Indian,
smiling as usual, would not accept the pri=
ce
of his services,
pushing back the money, and saying:
"For the sake of friendship."
Glenarvan could not reply; but he wished at
least, to leave
the brave fellow some souvenir of his Euro=
pean
friends.
What was there to give, however? Arms, horses, everything had
been destroyed in the unfortunate inundati=
on, and
his friends
were no richer than himself.
He was quite at a loss how to show his
recognition of the
disinterestedness of this noble guide, whe=
n a
happy thought struck him.
He had an exquisite portrait of Lady Helen=
a in
his pocket,
a CHEF-D'OEUVRE of Lawrence. This he drew out, and offered
to Thalcave, simply saying:
"My wife."
The Indian gazed at it with a softened eye,
and said:
"Good and beautiful."
Then Robert, and Paganel, and the Major, a=
nd
the rest,
exchanged touching farewells with the fait=
hful
Patagonian.
Thalcave embraced them each, and pressed t=
hem
to his broad chest.
Paganel made him accept a map of South Ame=
rica
and the two oceans,
which he had often seen the Indian looking=
at
with interest.
It was the most precious thing the geograp=
her possessed.
As for Robert, he had only caresses to bes=
tow,
and these he lavished
on his friend, not forgetting to give a sh=
are
to Thaouka.
The boat from the DUNCAN was now fast
approaching, and in another
minute had glided into a narrow channel
between the sand-banks,
and run ashore.
"My wife?" were Glenarvan's first
words.
"My sister?" said Robert.
"Lady Helena and Miss Grant are waiti=
ng
for you on board,"
replied the coxswain; "but lose no ti=
me
your honor, we have
not a minute, for the tide is beginning to=
ebb
already."
The last kindly adieux were spoken, and
Thalcave accompanied his
friends to the boat, which had been pushed
back into the water.
Just as Robert was going to step in, the
Indian took him in his arms,
and gazed tenderly into his face. Then he said:
"Now go. You are a man."
"Good-by, good-by, friend!" said
Glenarvan, once more.
"Shall we never see each other
again?" Paganel called o=
ut.
"Quien sabe?" (Who knows?) repli=
ed
Thalcave, lifting his
arms toward heaven.
These were the Indian's last words, dying =
away
on
the breeze, as the boat receded gradually =
from
the shore.
For a long time, his dark, motionless
SILHOUETTE stood out
against the sky, through the white, dashing
spray of the waves.
Then by degrees his tall form began to dim=
inish
in size,
till at last his friends of a day lost sig=
ht
of him altogether.
An hour afterward Robert was the first to =
leap
on board
the DUNCAN. He flung his arms round Mary's nec=
k,
amid the loud,
joyous hurrahs of the crew on the yacht.
Thus the journey across South America was
accomplished, the given
line of march being scrupulously adhered to
throughout.
Neither mountains nor rivers had made the
travelers change their course;
and though they had not had to encounter a=
ny
ill-will from men,
their generous intrepidity had been often
enough roughly put to the proof
by the fury of the unchained elements.
END OF BOOK ONE
FOR the first few moments the joy of reuni=
on
completely filled
the hearts. Lord Glenarvan had taken care that=
the
ill-success
of their expedition should not throw a glo=
om
over the pleasure
of meeting, his very first words being:
"Cheer up, friends, cheer up! Captain Grant is not with us,
but we have a certainty of finding him!&qu=
ot;
Only such an assurance as this would have
restored hope to those on
board the DUNCAN. Lady Helena and Mary Grant had been
sorely tried
by the suspense, as they stood on the poop
waiting for the arrival
of the boat, and trying to count the numbe=
r of
its passengers.
Alternate hope and fear agitated the bosom=
of
poor Mary. Sometimes she
fancied she could see her father, Harry Gr=
ant,
and sometimes she gave
way to despair. Her heart throbbed violently; she =
could
not speak,
and indeed could scarcely stand. Lady Helena put her arm round
her waist to support her, but the captain,
John Mangles, who stood
close beside them spoke no encouraging wor=
d,
for his practiced eye
saw plainly that the captain was not there=
.
"He is there! He is coming! Oh, father!" exclaimed the yo=
ung
girl.
But as the boat came nearer, her illusion =
was
dispelled;
all hope forsook her, and she would have s=
unk
in despair,
but for the reassuring voice of Glenarvan.=
After their mutual embraces were over, Lady
Helena, and Mary Grant,
and John Mangles, were informed of the
principal incidents of
the expedition, and especially of the new
interpretation of the document,
due to the sagacity of Jacques Paganel.
the most eulogistic terms of Robert, of wh=
om Mary
might well be proud.
His courage and devotion, and the dangers =
he
had run, were all shown
up in strong relief by his patron, till the
modest boy did not know
which way to look, and was obliged to hide=
his
burning cheeks
in his sister's arms.
"No need to blush, Robert," said
John Mangles. "Your cond=
uct
has
been worthy of your name." And he leaned over the boy and pre=
ssed
his lips on his cheek, still wet with Mary=
's
tears.
The Major and Paganel, it need hardly be s=
aid,
came in for their
due share of welcome, and Lady Helena only
regretted she could
not shake hands with the brave and generous
Thalcave. McNabbs soon
slipped away to his cabin, and began to sh=
ave
himself as coolly
and composedly as possible; while Paganel =
flew
here and there,
like a bee sipping the sweets of complimen=
ts
and smiles.
He wanted to embrace everyone on board the
yacht, and beginning
with Lady Helena and Mary Grant, wound up =
with
M. Olbinett,
the steward, who could only acknowledge so
polite an attention
by announcing that breakfast was ready.
"Breakfast!" exclaimed Paganel.<= o:p>
"Yes, Monsieur Paganel."
"A real breakfast, on a real table, w=
ith
a cloth and napkins?"
"Certainly, Monsieur Paganel."
"And we shall neither have CHARQUI, n=
or
hard eggs,
nor fillets of ostrich?"
"Oh, Monsieur," said Olbinett in=
an
aggrieved tone.
"I don't want to hurt your feelings, =
my
friend," said the
geographer smiling. "But for a month that has bee=
n our
usual
bill of fare, and when we dined we stretch=
ed
ourselves full
length on the ground, unless we sat astrid=
e on
the trees.
Consequently, the meal you have just annou=
nced
seemed to me
like a dream, or fiction, or chimera."=
;
"Well, Monsieur Paganel, come along a=
nd
let us prove its reality,"
said Lady Helena, who could not help laugh=
ing.
"Take my arm," replied the galla=
nt
geographer.
"Has his Lordship any orders to give =
me
about the DUNCAN?"
asked John Mangles.
"After breakfast, John," replied
Glenarvan, "we'll discuss the program
of our new expedition en famille."
M. Olbinett's breakfast seemed quite a FET=
E to
the hungry guests.
It was pronounced excellent, and even supe=
rior
to the festivities
of the Pampas. Paganel was helped twice to each d=
ish,
through "absence
of mind," he said.
This unlucky word reminded Lady Helena of =
the
amiable Frenchman's
propensity, and made her ask if he had ever
fallen into his old habits
while they were away. The Major and Glenarvan exchanged
smiling glances,
and Paganel burst out laughing, and protes=
ted
on his honor that he would
never be caught tripping again once more
during the whole voyage.
After this prelude, he gave an amusing rec=
ital
of his disastrous mistake
in learning Spanish, and his profound stud=
y of
Camoens. "After all,&quo=
t;
he added, "it's an ill wind that blows
nobody good, and I don't
regret the mistake."
"Why not, my worthy friend?" ask=
ed
the Major.
"Because I not only know Spanish, but
Portuguese. I can speak
two languages instead of one."
"Upon my word, I never thought of
that," said McNabbs. &qu=
ot;My
compliments,
Paganel--my sincere compliments."
But Paganel was too busily engaged with his
knife and fork to lose a
single mouthful, though he did his best to=
eat
and talk at the same time.
He was so much taken up with his plate,
however, that one little fact
quite escaped his observation, though
Glenarvan noticed it at once.
This was, that John Mangles had grown
particularly attentive to
Mary Grant. A significant glance from Lady Hel=
ena
told him, moreover,
how affairs stood, and inspired him with
affectionate sympathy for
the young lovers; but nothing of this was
apparent in his manner to John,
for his next question was what sort of a
voyage he had made.
"We could not have had a better; but I
must apprise your Lordship
that I did not go through the Straits of
Magellan again."
"What! you doubled Cape Horn, and I w=
as
not there!" exclaimed Paganel.
"Hang yourself!" said the Major.=
"Selfish fellow! you advise me to do =
that
because you want my rope,"
retorted the geographer.
"Well, you see, my dear Paganel, unle=
ss
you have the gift of ubiquity
you can't be in two places at once. While you were scouring the pampas=
you could not be doubling Cape Horn."=
"That doesn't prevent my regretting
it," replied Paganel.
Here the subject dropped, and John continu=
ed
his account of his voyage.
On arriving at Cape Pilares he had found t=
he
winds dead against him,
and therefore made for the south, coasting
along the Desolation Isle,
and after going as far as the sixty-seventh
degree southern latitude,
had doubled Cape Horn, passed by Terra del
Fuego and the
Straits of Lemaire, keeping close to the
Patagonian shore.
At Cape Corrientes they encountered the
terrible storm which had handled
the travelers across the pampas so roughly,
but the yacht had borne
it bravely, and for the last three days had
stood right out to sea,
till the welcome signal-gun of the expedit=
ion
was heard announcing
the arrival of the anxiously-looked-for
party. "It was only
justice,"
the captain added, "that he should
mention the intrepid bearing
of Lady Helena and Mary Grant throughout t=
he
whole hurricane.
They had not shown the least fear, unless =
for
their friends,
who might possibly be exposed to the fury =
of
the tempest."
After John Mangles had finished his narrat=
ive,
Glenarvan turned
to Mary and said; "My dear Miss Mary,=
the
captain has been
doing homage to your noble qualities, and =
I am
glad to think
you are not unhappy on board his ship.&quo=
t;
"How could I be?" replied Mary
naively, looking at Lady Helena,
and at the young captain too, likely enoug=
h.
"Oh, my sister is very fond of you, M=
r.
John, and so am I,"
exclaimed Robert.
"And so am I of you, my dear boy,&quo=
t;
returned the captain,
a little abashed by Robert's innocent avow=
al,
which had kindled
a faint blush on Mary's cheek. Then he managed to turn
the conversation to safer topics by
saying: "And now that
your Lordship has heard all about the doin=
gs
of the DUNCAN,
perhaps you will give us some details of y=
our
own journey,
and tell us more about the exploits of our
young hero."
Nothing could be more agreeable than such a
recital to Lady Helena
and Mary Grant; and accordingly Lord Glena=
rvan
hastened to satisfy
their curiosity--going over incident by
incident, the entire march
from one ocean to another, the pass of the
Andes, the earthquake,
the disappearance of Robert, his capture by
the condor,
Thalcave's providential shot, the episode =
of
the red wolves,
the devotion of the young lad, Sergeant
Manuel, the inundations,
the caimans, the waterspout, the night on =
the
Atlantic shore--
all these details, amusing or terrible,
excited by turns laughter
and horror in the listeners. Often and often Robert came in
for caresses from his sister and Lady
Helena. Never was a boy
so much embraced, or by such enthusiastic
friends.
"And now, friends," added Lord
Glenarvan, when he had
finished his narrative, "we must thin=
k of
the present.
The past is gone, but the future is ours.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Let us come back
to Captain Harry Grant."
As soon as breakfast was over they all went
into Lord Glenarvan's private
cabin and seated themselves round a table
covered with charts and plans,
to talk over the matter fully.
"My dear Helena," said Lord
Glenarvan, "I told you, when we came
on board a little while ago, that though we
had not brought back
Captain Grant, our hope of finding him was
stronger than ever.
The result of our journey across America is
this: We have reached
the conviction, or rather absolute certain=
ty,
that the shipwreck
never occurred on the shores of the Atlant=
ic
nor Pacific. The natural
inference is that, as far as regards
Patagonia, our interpretation
of the document was erroneous. Most fortunately, our friend Pagan=
el,
in a happy moment of inspiration, discover=
ed
the mistake.
He has proved clearly that we have been on=
the
wrong track,
and so explained the document that all dou=
bt
whatever is removed
from our minds. However, as the document is in Fre=
nch, I
will ask
Paganel to go over it for your benefit.&qu=
ot;
The learned geographer, thus called upon,
executed his task in the most
convincing manner, descanting on the sylla=
bles
GONIE and INDI,
and extracting AUSTRALIA out of AUSTRAL. He pointed out that
Captain Grant, on leaving the coast of Per=
u to
return to Europe,
might have been carried away with his disa=
bled
ship by the southern
currents of the Pacific right to the shore=
s of
Australia,
and his hypotheses were so ingenious and h=
is
deductions so subtle
that even the matter-of-fact John Mangles,=
a
difficult judge,
and most unlikely to be led away by any
flights of imagination,
was completely satisfied.
At the conclusion of Paganel's dissertatio=
n,
Glenarvan announced
that the DUNCAN would sail immediately for
Australia.
But before the decisive orders were given,
McNabbs asked
for a few minutes' hearing.
"Say away, McNabbs," replied
Glenarvan.
"I have no intention of weakening the
arguments of my friend Paganel,
and still less of refuting them. I consider them wise and weighty,<= o:p>
and deserving our attention, and think them
justly entitled to form
the basis of our future researches. But still I should like them
to be submitted to a final examination, in
order to make their worth
incontestable and uncontested."
"Go on, Major," said Paganel;
"I am ready to answer all your questions."
"They are simple enough, as you will
see. Five months ago,
when we left the Clyde, we had studied the=
se
same documents,
and their interpretation then appeared qui=
te
plain.
No other coast but the western coast of
Patagonia could possibly,
we thought, have been the scene of the
shipwreck.
We had not even the shadow of a doubt on t=
he
subject."
"That's true," replied Glenarvan=
.
"A little later," continued the
Major, "when a providential fit
of absence of mind came over Paganel, and
brought him on board
the yacht, the documents were submitted to=
him
and he approved
our plan of search most unreservedly."=
;
"I do not deny it," said Paganel=
.
"And yet we were mistaken," resu=
med
the Major.
"Yes, we were mistaken," returned
Paganel; "but it is only human
to make a mistake, while to persist in it,=
a
man must be a fool."
"Stop, Paganel, don't excite yourself=
; I
don't mean to say that we
should prolong our search in America."=
;
"What is it, then, that you want?&quo=
t;
asked Glenarvan.
"A confession, nothing more. A confession that Australia
now as evidently appears to be the theater=
of
the shipwreck
of the BRITANNIA as America did before.&qu=
ot;
"We confess it willingly," repli=
ed
Paganel.
"Very well, then, since that is the c=
ase,
my advice is not to let
your imagination rely on successive and
contradictory evidence.
Who knows whether after Australia some oth=
er
country may not
appear with equal certainty to be the plac=
e, and
we may have
to recommence our search?"
Glenarvan and Paganel looked at each other
silently, struck by the justice
of these remarks.
"I should like you, therefore,"
continued the Major, "before we actually
start for Australia, to make one more exam=
ination
of the documents.
Here they are, and here are the charts.
in succession through which the 37th paral=
lel
passes, and see if we come
across any other country which would agree
with the precise indications
of the document."
"Nothing can be more easily and quick=
ly
done," replied Paganel;
"for countries are not very numerous =
in
this latitude, happily."
"Well, look," said the Major,
displaying an English planisphere
on the plan of Mercator's Chart, and
presenting the appearance
of a terrestrial globe.
He placed it before Lady Helena, and then =
they
all stood round,
so as to be able to follow the argument of
Paganel.
"As I have said already," resumed
the learned geographer,
"after having crossed South America, =
the
37th degree of latitude
cuts the islands of Tristan d'Acunha. Now I
maintain that none
of the words of the document could relate =
to
these islands."
The documents were examined with the most
minute care,
and the conclusion unanimously reached was
that these islands
were entirely out of the question.
"Let us go on then," resumed
Paganel. "After leaving =
the
Atlantic,
we pass two degrees below the Cape of Good
Hope, and into the
Indian Ocean. Only one group of islands is found=
on
this route,
the Amsterdam Isles. Now, then, we must examine these a=
s we
did
the Tristan d'Acunha group."
After a close survey, the Amsterdam Isles =
were
rejected in their turn.
Not a single word, or part of a word, Fren=
ch,
English or German,
could apply to this group in the Indian Oc=
ean.
"Now we come to Australia,"
continued Paganel.
"The 37th parallel touches this conti=
nent
at Cape Bernouilli,
and leaves it at Twofold Bay. You will agree with me that,
without straining the text, the English wo=
rd
STRA and the French
one AUSTRAL may relate to Australia. The thing is too plain
to need proof."
The conclusion of Paganel met with unanimo=
us
approval;
every probability was in his favor.
"And where is the next point?" a=
sked
McNabbs.
"That is easily answered. After leaving Twofold Bay, we cros=
s an
arm
of the sea which extends to New Zealand. Here I must call your attention
to the fact that the French word CONTIN me=
ans
a continent, irrefragably.
Captain Grant could not, then, have found
refuge in New Zealand,
which is only an island. However that may be though, examin=
e and
compare,
and go over and over each word, and see if=
, by
any possibility,
they can be made to fit this new
country."
"In no way whatever," replied Jo=
hn
Mangles, after a minute
investigation of the documents and the
planisphere.
"No," chimed in all the rest, and
even the Major himself,
"it cannot apply to New Zealand."=
;
"Now," went on Paganel, "in=
all
this immense space between this
large island and the American coast, there=
is
only one solitary
barren little island crossed by the 37th
parallel."
"And what is its name," asked the
Major.
"Here it is, marked in the map. It is Maria Theresa--a name of whi=
ch
there is not a single trace in either of t=
he
three documents."
"Not the slightest," said Glenar=
van.
"I leave you, then, my friends, to de=
cide
whether all these probabilities,
not to say certainties, are not in favor of
the Australian continent."
"Evidently," replied the captain=
and
all the others.
"Well, then, John," said Glenarv=
an,
"the next question is,
have you provisions and coal enough?"=
"Yes, your honor, I took in an ample
store at Talcahuano, and, besides,
we can easily replenish our stock of coal =
at
Cape Town."
"Well, then, give orders."
"Let me make one more observation,&qu=
ot;
interrupted McNabbs.
"Go on then."
"Whatever likelihood of success Austr=
alia
may offer us, wouldn't it
be advisable to stop a day or two at the
Tristan d'Acunha Isles
and the Amsterdam? They lie in our route, and would n=
ot
take us
the least out of the way. Then we should be able to ascertai=
n
if the BRITANNIA had left any traces of her
shipwreck there?"
"Incredulous Major!" exclaimed
Paganel, "he still sticks to his idea."
"I stick to this any way, that I don't
want to have to retrace our steps,
supposing that Australia should disappoint=
our
sanguine hopes."
"It seems to me a good precaution,&qu=
ot;
replied Glenarvan.
"And I'm not the one to dissuade you =
from
it," returned Paganel;
"quite the contrary."
"Steer straight for Tristan
d'Acunha."
"Immediately, your Honor," repli=
ed
the captain, going on deck,
while Robert and Mary Grant overwhelmed Lo=
rd
Glenarvan with
their grateful thanks.
Shortly after, the DUNCAN had left the
American coast,
and was running eastward, her sharp keel
rapidly cutting her way
through the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.
IF the yacht had followed the line of the
equator, the 196 degrees
which separate
geographical miles; but along the 37th
parallel these same degrees,
owing to the form of the earth, only repre=
sent
9,480 miles.
From the American coast to Tristan d'Acunh=
a is
reckoned 2,100 miles--
a distance which John Mangles hoped to cle=
ar
in ten days,
if east winds did not retard the motion of=
the
yacht.
But he was not long uneasy on that score, =
for
toward evening
the breeze sensibly lulled and then changed
altogether,
giving the DUNCAN a fair field on a calm s=
ea
for displaying
her incomparable qualities as a sailor.
The passengers had fallen back into their
ordinary ship life, and it
hardly seemed as if they really could have
been absent a whole month.
Instead of the Pacific, the Atlantic stret=
ched
itself out before them,
and there was scarcely a shade of differen=
ce
in the waves
of the two oceans. The elements, after having handled=
them
so roughly, seemed now disposed to favor t=
hem
to the utmost.
The sea was tranquil, and the wind kept in=
the
right quarter,
so that the yacht could spread all her can=
vas,
and lend its aid,
if needed to the indefatigable steam store=
d up
in the boiler.
Under such conditions, the voyage was safe=
ly
and rapidly accomplished.
Their confidence increased as they found
themselves nearer
the Australian coast. They began to talk of Captain Gran=
t
as if the yacht were going to take him on
board at a given port.
His cabin was got ready, and berths for the
men. This cabin was
next to the famous number six, which Pagan=
el
had taken possession
of instead of the one he had booked on the
SCOTIA. It had been till
now occupied by M. Olbinett, who vacated it
for the expected guest.
Mary took great delight in arranging it wi=
th
her own hands,
and adorning it for the reception of the l=
oved
inmate.
The learned geographer kept himself closely
shut up.
He was working away from morning till nigh=
t at
a work entitled
"Sublime Impressions of a Geographer =
in
the Argentine Pampas,"
and they could hear him repeating elegant
periods aloud
before committing them to the white pages =
of
his day-book;
and more than once, unfaithful to Clio, the
muse of history,
he invoked in his transports the divine
Calliope, the muse
of epic poetry.
Paganel made no secret of it either. The chaste daughters of Apollo
willingly left the slopes of Helicon and
Parnassus at his call.
Lady Helena paid him sincere compliments on
his mythological visitants,
and so did the Major, though he could not
forbear adding:
"But mind no fits of absence of mind,=
my
dear Paganel;
and if you take a fancy to learn Australia=
n,
don't go and study
it in a Chinese grammar."
Things went on perfectly smoothly on
board. Lady Helena
and Lord Glenarvan found leisure to watch =
John
Mangles'
growing attachment to Mary Grant. There was nothing to be
said against it, and, indeed, since John
remained silent,
it was best to take no notice of it.
"What will Captain Grant
think?" Lord Glenarvan a=
sked
his wife one day.
"He'll think John is worthy of Mary, =
my
dear Edward,
and he'll think right."
Meanwhile, the yacht was making rapid
progress. Five days
after losing sight of Cape Corrientes, on =
the
16th of November,
they fell in with fine westerly breezes, a=
nd
the DUNCAN might
almost have dispensed with her screw
altogether, for she flew over
the water like a bird, spreading all her s=
ails
to catch the breeze,
as if she were running a race with the Roy=
al
Thames Club yachts.
Next day, the ocean appeared covered with
immense seaweeds,
looking like a great pond choked up with t=
he
DEBRIS of trees
and plants torn off the neighboring continents. Commander Murray<= o:p>
had specially pointed them out to the
attention of navigators.
The DUNCAN appeared to glide over a long
prairie, which Paganel
justly compared to the Pampas, and her spe=
ed
slackened a little.
Twenty-four hours after, at break of day, =
the
man on the look-out
was heard calling out, "Land ahead!&q=
uot;
"In what direction?" asked Tom
Austin, who was on watch.
"Leeward!" was the reply.
This exciting cry brought everyone speedil=
y on
deck. Soon a telescope
made its appearance, followed by Jacques
Paganel. The learned
geographer pointed the instrument in the
direction indicated,
but could see nothing that resembled land.=
"Look in the clouds," said John
Mangles.
"Ah, now I do see a sort of peak, but
very indistinctly."
"It is Tristan d'Acunha," replied
John Mangles.
"Then, if my memory serves me right, =
we
must be eighty miles
from it, for the peak of Tristan, seven
thousand feet high,
is visible at that distance."
"That's it, precisely."
Some hours later, the sharp, lofty crags of
the group
of islands stood out clearly on the
horizon. The conical
peak of Tristan looked black against the
bright sky,
which seemed all ablaze with the splendor =
of
the rising sun.
Soon the principal island stood out from t=
he
rocky mass,
at the summit of a triangle inclining towa=
rd
the northeast.
Tristan d'Acunha is situated in 37 degrees=
8'
of southern latitude,
and 10 degrees 44' of longitude west of the
meridian
at Greenwich. Inaccessible Island is eighteen mi=
les to
the
southwest and Nightingale Island is ten mi=
les
to the southeast,
and this completes the little solitary gro=
up
of islets in
the Atlantic Ocean. Toward noon, the two principal
landmarks,
by which the group is recognized were sigh=
ted,
and at 3
P. M. the DUNCAN entered Falmouth Bay in
Tristan d'Acunha.
Several whaling vessels were lying quietly=
at
anchor there,
for the coast abounds in seals and other
marine animals.
John Mangle's first care was to find good
anchorage, and then
all the passengers, both ladies and gentle=
men,
got into the long
boat and were rowed ashore. They stepped out on a beach covere=
d
with fine black sand, the impalpable DEBRI=
S of
the calcined rocks
of the island.
Tristan d'Acunha is the capital of the gro=
up,
and consists
of a little village, lying in the heart of=
the
bay, and watered
by a noisy, rapid stream. It contained about fifty houses,
tolerably clean, and disposed with geometr=
ical
regularity.
Behind this miniature town there lay 1,500
hectares of meadow land,
bounded by an embankment of lava. Above this embankment,
the conical peak rose 7,000 feet high.
Lord Glenarvan was received by a governor
supplied from the English
colony at the Cape. He inquired at once respecting Har=
ry
Grant
and the BRITANNIA, and found the names
entirely unknown.
The Tristan d'Acunha Isles are out of the
route of ships,
and consequently little frequented. Since the wreck of the
Blendon Hall in 1821, on the rocks of
Inaccessible Island,
two vessels have stranded on the chief
island--the PRIMANGUET
in 1845, and the three-mast American,
PHILADELPHIA, in 1857.
These three events comprise the whole
catalogue of maritime
disasters in the annals of the Acunhas.
Lord Glenarvan did not expect to glean any
information, and only asked
by the way of duty. He even sent the boats to make the
circuit
of the island, the entire extent of which =
was
not more than seventeen
miles at most.
In the interim the passengers walked about=
the
village.
The population does not exceed 150
inhabitants, and consists
of English and Americans, married to negro=
es
and Cape Hottentots,
who might bear away the palm for
ugliness. The children of
these heterogeneous households are very
disagreeable compounds
of Saxon stiffness and African blackness.<= o:p>
It was nearly nightfall before the party
returned to the yacht,
chattering and admiring the natural riches
displayed on
all sides, for even close to the streets of
the capital,
fields of wheat and maize were waving, and
crops of vegetables,
imported forty years before; and in the
environs of the village,
herds of cattle and sheep were feeding.
The boats returned to the DUNCAN about the
same time
as Lord Glenarvan. They had made the circuit of the e=
ntire
island in a few hours, but without coming
across the least
trace of the BRITANNIA. The only result of this voyage
of circumnavigation was to strike out the =
name
of Isle Tristan
from the program of search.
As John Mangles intended to put in at the =
he was obliged to deviate a little from the
37th parallel, and go
two degrees north. In less than six days he cleared t=
he
thirteen
hundred miles which separate the point of =
and on the 24th of November, at 3 P. M. the
Table Mountain was sighted.
At eight o'clock they entered the bay, and
cast anchor in the port
of Cape Town. They sailed away next morning at
daybreak.
Between the Cape and Amsterdam Island ther=
e is
a distance
of 2,900 miles, but with a good sea and
favoring breeze,
this was only a ten day's voyage. The elements were now no longer
at war with the travelers, as on their jou=
rney
across the Pampas--
air and water seemed in league to help them
forward.
"Ah! the sea! the sea!" exclaimed
Paganel, "it is the field par
excellence for the exercise of human energ=
ies,
and the ship is
the true vehicle of civilization. Think, my friends, if the globe
had been only an immense continent, the
thousandth part of it
would still be unknown to us, even in this
nineteenth century.
See how it is in the interior of great
countries. In the steppes
of Siberia, in the plains of Central Asia,=
in
the deserts of Africa,
in the prairies of America, in the immense
wilds of Australia,
in the icy solitudes of the Poles, man
scarcely dares to venture;
the most daring shrinks back, the most
courageous succumbs.
They cannot penetrate them; the means of
transport are insufficient,
and the heat and disease, and savage
disposition of the natives,
are impassable obstacles. Twenty miles of desert separate me=
n
more than five hundred miles of ocean.&quo=
t;
Paganel spoke with such warmth that even t=
he
Major had nothing
to say against this panegyric of the
ocean. Indeed, if the finding=
of Harry Grant had involved following a
parallel across continents
instead of oceans, the enterprise could not
have been attempted;
but the sea was there ready to carry the
travelers from one country
to another, and on the 6th of December, at=
the
first streak of day,
they saw a fresh mountain apparently emerg=
ing
from the bosom
of the waves.
This was Amsterdam Island, situated in 37
degrees 47 minutes
latitude and 77 degrees 24 minutes longitu=
de,
the high cone
of which in clear weather is visible fifty
miles off.
At eight o'clock, its form, indistinct tho=
ugh
it still was,
seemed almost a reproduction of Teneriffe.=
"And consequently it must resemble
Tristan d'Acunha," observed Glenarvan.
"A very wise conclusion," said
Paganel, "according to the geometrographic
axiom that two islands resembling a third =
must
have a common likeness.
I will only add that, like Tristan d'Acunh=
a,
Amsterdam Island is equally
rich in seals and Robinsons."
"There are Robinsons everywhere,
then?" said Lady Helena.
"Indeed, Madam," replied Paganel,
"I know few islands without
some tale of the kind appertaining to them,
and the romance
of your immortal countryman, Daniel Defoe,=
has
been often enough
realized before his day."
"Monsieur Paganel," said Mary,
"may I ask you a question?"
"Two if you like, my dear young lady,=
and
I promise to answer them."
"Well, then, I want to know if you wo=
uld
be very much frightened
at the idea of being cast away alone on a
desert island."
"I?" exclaimed Paganel.
"Come now, my good fellow," said=
the
Major, "don't go and tell us
that it is your most cherished desire.&quo=
t;
"I don't pretend it is that, but stil=
l,
after all, such an adventure
would not be very unpleasant to me. I should begin a new life;
I should hunt and fish; I should choose a
grotto for my domicile in Winter
and a tree in Summer. I should make storehouses for my
harvests:
in one word, I should colonize my
island."
"All by yourself?"
"All by myself if I was obliged. Besides, are we ever obliged?
Cannot one find friends among the animals,=
and
choose some tame
kid or eloquent parrot or amiable monkey?<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> And if a lucky
chance should send one a companion like the
faithful Friday,
what more is needed? Two friends on a rock, there is
happiness.
Suppose now, the Major and I--"
"Thank you," replied the Major,
interrupting him; "I have no inclination
in that line, and should make a very poor
Robinson Crusoe."
"My dear Monsieur Paganel," said
Lady Helena, "you are
letting your imagination run away with you=
, as
usual.
But the dream is very different from the
reality.
You are thinking of an imaginary Robinson's
life, thrown on
a picked island and treated like a spoiled
child by nature.
You only see the sunny side."
"What, madam! You don't believe a man could be h=
appy
on a desert island?"
"I do not. Man is made for society and not for
solitude,
and solitude can only engender despair.
At the outset it is quite possible that
material wants
and the very necessities of existence may
engross the poor
shipwrecked fellow, just snatched from the
waves; but afterward,
when he feels himself alone, far from his
fellow men, without any
hope of seeing country and friends again, =
what
must he think,
what must he suffer? His little island is all his world=
.
The whole human race is shut up in himself,
and when
death comes, which utter loneliness will m=
ake
terrible,
he will be like the last man on the last d=
ay
of the world.
Believe me, Monsieur Paganel, such a man is
not to be envied."
Paganel gave in, though regretfully, to the
arguments of Lady Helena,
and still kept up a discussion on the
advantages and disadvantages
of Isolation, till the very moment the DUN=
CAN
dropped anchor about
a mile off Amsterdam Island.
This lonely group in the Indian Ocean cons=
ists
of two distinct islands,
thirty-three miles apart, and situated exa=
ctly
on the meridian
of the Indian peninsula. To the north is Amsterdam Island,<= o:p>
and to the south St. Paul; but they have b=
een
often confounded
by geographers and navigators.
At the time of the DUNCAN'S visit to the
island, the population consisted
of three people, a Frenchman and two
mulattoes, all three employed
by the merchant proprietor. Paganel was delighted to shake han=
ds
with a countryman in the person of good old
Monsieur Viot. He was far
advanced in years, but did the honors of t=
he
place with much politeness.
It was a happy day for him when these kind=
ly
strangers touched at
his island, for St. Peter's was only
frequented by seal-fishers, and now
and then a whaler, the crews of which are
usually rough, coarse men.
M. Viot presented his subjects, the two
mulattoes.
They composed the whole living population =
of
the island,
except a few wild boars in the interior and
myriads of penguins.
The little house where the three solitary =
men
lived was in the heart
of a natural bay on the southeast, formed =
by
the crumbling away
of a portion of the mountain.
Twice over in the early part of the centur=
y,
Amsterdam Island became
the country of deserted sailors,
providentially saved from misery
and death; but since these events no vessel
had been lost on its coast.
Had any shipwreck occurred, some fragments
must have been thrown on
the sandy shore, and any poor sufferers fr=
om
it would have found their
way to M. Viot's fishing-huts. The old man=
had
been long on the island,
and had never been called upon to exercise
such hospitality.
Of the BRITANNIA and Captain Grant he knew
nothing, but he was certain
that the disaster had not happened on
Amsterdam Island, nor on the islet
called St. Paul, for whalers and
fishing-vessels went there constantly,
and must have heard of it.
Glenarvan was neither surprised nor vexed =
at
the reply;
indeed, his object in asking was rather to
establish the fact
that Captain Grant had not been there than
that he had.
This done, they were ready to proceed on t=
heir
voyage next day.
They rambled about the island till evening=
, as
its appearance was
very inviting. Its FAUNA and FLORA, however, were=
poor
in the extreme.
The only specimens of quadrupeds, birds, f=
ish
and cetacea were
a few wild boars, stormy petrels, albatros=
ses,
perch and seals.
Here and there thermal springs and chalybe=
ate
waters escaped from
the black lava, and thin dark vapors rose
above the volcanic soil.
Some of these springs were very hot. John Mangles held his
thermometer in one of them, and found the
temperature was 176
degrees Fahrenheit. Fish caught in the sea a few yards=
off,
cooked in five minutes in these all but
boiling waters, a fact
which made Paganel resolve not to attempt =
to
bathe in them.
Toward evening, after a long promenade,
Glenarvan and his party
bade adieu to the good old M. Viot, and
returned to the yacht,
wishing him all the happiness possible on =
his
desert island,
and receiving in return the old man's bles=
sing
on their expedition.
ON the 7th of December, at three A. M., th=
e
her smoke in the little harbor ready to st=
art,
and a few minutes
afterward the anchor was lifted, and the s=
crew
set in motion.
By eight o'clock, when the passengers came=
on
deck, the
had almost disappeared from view behind the
mists of the horizon.
This was the last halting-place on the rou=
te,
and nothing now was between
them and the Australian coast but three
thousand miles' distance.
Should the west wind continue but a dozen =
days
longer, and the sea
remain favorable, the yacht would have rea=
ched
the end of her voyage.
Mary Grant and her brother could not gaze
without emotion
at the waves through which the DUNCAN was
speeding her course,
when they thought that these very same wav=
es
must have dashed against
the prow of the BRITANNIA but a few days
before her shipwreck.
Here, perhaps, Captain Grant, with a disab=
led
ship and diminished crew,
had struggled against the tremendous
hurricanes of the Indian Ocean,
and felt himself driven toward the coast w=
ith
irresistible force.
The Captain pointed out to Mary the differ=
ent
currents on
the ship's chart, and explained to her the=
ir
constant direction.
Among others there was one running straigh=
t to
the Australian continent,
and its action is equally felt in the Atla=
ntic
and Pacific. It was
doubtless against this that the BRITANNIA,
dismasted and rudderless,
had been unable to contend, and consequent=
ly
been dashed against
the coast, and broken in pieces.
A difficulty about this, however, presented
itself.
The last intelligence of Captain Grant was
from Callao
on the 30th of May, 1862, as appeared in t=
he
Mercantile
and Shipping Gazette. "How then was it possible tha=
t on
the 7th of June, only eight days after lea=
ving
the shores
of Peru, that the BRITANNIA could have fou=
nd
herself in
the Indian Ocean? But to this, Paganel, who was cons=
ulted
on the subject, found a very plausible
solution.
It was one evening, about six days after t=
heir
leaving Amsterdam Island,
when they were all chatting together on the
poop, that the above-named
difficulty was stated by Glenarvan. Paganel made no reply, but went
and fetched the document. After perusing it, he still remain=
ed silent,
simply shrugging his shoulders, as if asha=
med
of troubling himself
about such a trifle.
"Come, my good friend," said
Glenarvan, "at least give us an answer."
"No," replied Paganel, "I'll
merely ask a question for
Captain John to answer."
"And what is it, Monsieur Paganel?&qu=
ot;
said John Mangles.
"Could a quick ship make the distance=
in
a month over that part
of the Pacific Ocean which lies between
America and Australia?"
"Yes, by making two hundred miles in
twenty-four hours."
"Would that be an extraordinary rate =
of
speed?"
"Not at all; sailing clippers often go
faster."
"Well, then, instead of '7 June' on t=
his
document, suppose that one figure
has been destroyed by the sea-water, and r=
ead
'17 June' or '27 June,'
and all is explained."
"That's to say," replied Lady
Helena, "that between the 31st of May
and the 27th of June--"
"Captain Grant could have crossed the
Pacific and found himself
in the Indian Ocean."
Paganel's theory met with universal
acceptance.
"That's one more point cleared up,&qu=
ot;
said Glenarvan. "Thanks =
to
our friend, all that remains to be done no=
w is
to get to Australia,
and look out for traces of the wreck on the
western coast."
"Or the eastern?" said John Mang=
les.
"Indeed, John, you may be right, for
there is nothing in the document
to indicate which shore was the scene of t=
he
catastrophe,
and both points of the continent crossed by
the 37th parallel,
must, therefore, be explored."
"Then, my Lord, it is doubtful, after
all," said Mary.
"Oh no, Miss Mary," John Mangles
hastened to reply, seeing the young
girl's apprehension. "His Lordship will please to
consider that
if Captain Grant had gained the shore on t=
he
east of Australia,
he would almost immediately have found ref=
uge
and assistance.
The whole of that coast is English, we mig=
ht
say, peopled with colonists.
The crew of the BRITANNIA could not have g=
one
ten miles without
meeting a fellow-countryman."
"I am quite of your opinion, Captain
John," said Paganel. &qu=
ot;On
the eastern
coast Harry Grant would not only have foun=
d an
English colony easily,
but he would certainly have met with some
means of transport
back to Europe."
"And he would not have found the same
resources on the side we
are making for?" asked Lady Helena.
"No, madam," replied Paganel;
"it is a desert coast, with no communication
between it and Melbourne or Adelaide. If the BRITANNIA was wrecked
on those rocky shores, she was as much cut=
off
from all chance of help
as if she had been lost on the inhospitable
shores of Africa."
"But what has become of my father the=
re,
then, all these two years?"
asked Mary Grant.
"My dear Mary," replied Paganel,
"you have not the least doubt,
have you, that Captain Grant reached the
Australian continent
after his shipwreck?"
"No, Monsieur Paganel."
"Well, granting that, what became of
him? The suppositions
we might make are not numerous. They are confined to three.
Either Harry Grant and his companions have
found their way to the
English colonies, or they have fallen into=
the
hands of the natives,
or they are lost in the immense wilds of
Australia."
"Go on, Paganel," said Lord
Glenarvan, as the learned Frenchman
made a pause.
"The first hypothesis I reject, then,=
to
begin with, for Harry Grant
could not have reached the English colonie=
s,
or long ago he would
have been back with his children in the go=
od
town of Dundee."
"Poor father," murmured Mary,
"away from us for two whole years."
"Hush, Mary," said Robert,
"Monsieur Paganel will tell us."
"Alas! my boy, I cannot. All that I affirm is, that Captain=
Grant
is in the hands of the natives."
"But these natives," said Lady
Helena, hastily, "are they--"
"Reassure yourself, madam," said
Paganel, divining her thoughts.
"The aborigines of Australia are low
enough in the scale
of human intelligence, and most degraded a=
nd
uncivilized,
but they are mild and gentle in dispositio=
n,
and not sanguinary
like their New Zealand neighbors. Though they may be prisoners,
their lives have never been threatened, you
may be sure.
All travelers are unanimous in declaring t=
hat
the Australian
natives abhor shedding blood, and many a t=
ime
they have found
in them faithful allies in repelling the
attacks of evil-disposed
convicts far more cruelly inclined."<= o:p>
"You hear what Monsieur Paganel tells=
us,
Mary," said Lady Helena turning
to the young girl. "If your father is in the han=
ds of
the natives,
which seems probable from the document, we
shall find him."
"And what if he is lost in that immen=
se
country?" asked Mary.
"Well, we'll find him still,"
exclaimed Paganel, in a confident tone.
"Won't we, friends?"
"Most certainly," replied Glenar=
van;
and anxious to give a less
gloomy turn to the conversation, he added-=
-
"But I won't admit the supposition of=
his
being lost,
not for an instant."
"Neither will I," said Paganel.<= o:p>
"Is Australia a big place?" inqu=
ired
Robert.
"Australia, my boy, is about as large=
as
four-fifths of Europe. It has=
somewhere about 775,000 HECTARES."
"So much as that?" said the Majo=
r.
"Yes, McNabbs, almost to a yard's
breadth. Don't you think now =
it
has a right to be called a continent?"=
;
"I do, certainly."
"I may add," continued the SAVAN=
T,
"that there are but few
accounts of travelers being lost in this
immense country.
Indeed, I believe Leichardt is the only on=
e of
whose fate we
are ignorant, and some time before my depa=
rture
I learned
from the Geographical Society that Mcintyre
had strong hopes
of having discovered traces of him."<= o:p>
"The whole of Australia, then, is not=
yet
explored?"
asked Lady Helena.
"No, madam, but very little of it.
much better known than the interior of Afr=
ica,
and yet it
is from no lack of enterprising
travelers. From 1606 to 1862,=
more than fifty have been engaged in explo=
ring
along the coast
and in the interior."
"Oh, fifty!" exclaimed McNabbs
incredulously.
"No, no," objected the Major;
"that is going too far."
"And I might go farther, McNabbs,&quo=
t;
replied the geographer,
impatient of contradiction.
"Yes, McNabbs, quite that number.&quo=
t;
"Farther still, Paganel."
"If you doubt me, I can give you the
names."
"Oh, oh," said the Major,
coolly. "That's just lik=
e
you SAVANTS. You stick at nothing."
"Major, will you bet your Purdy-Moore
rifle against my telescope?"
"Why not, Paganel, if it would give y=
ou
any pleasure."
"Done, Major!" exclaimed
Paganel. "You may say go=
od-by
to your rifle,
for it will never shoot another chamois or=
fox
unless I lend it to you,
which I shall always be happy to do, by the
by."
"And whenever you require the use of =
your
telescope, Paganel, I shall
be equally obliging," replied the Maj=
or,
gravely.
"Let us begin, then; and ladies and
gentlemen, you shall be our jury.
Robert, you must keep count."
This was agreed upon, and Paganel forthwith
commenced.
"Mnemosyne! Goddess of Memory, chaste mother o=
f the
Muses!"
he exclaimed, "inspire thy faithful s=
ervant
and fervent worshiper!
Two hundred and fifty-eight years ago, my
friends, Australia was unknown.
Strong suspicions were entertained of the
existence of a great
southern continent. In the library of your British Mus=
eum,
Glenarvan,
there are two charts, the date of which is
1550, which mention a country
south of Asia, called by the Portuguese Gr=
eat
Java. But these charts
are not sufficiently authentic. In the seventeenth century,
in 1606, Quiros, a Spanish navigator,
discovered a country which
he named Australia de Espiritu Santo. Some authors imagine that this
was the New Hebrides group, and not
Australia. I am not going
to discuss the question, however. Count Quiros, Robert, and let us
pass on to another."
"ONE," said Robert.
"In that same year, Louis Vas de Torr=
es,
the second
in command of the fleet of Quiros, pushed
further south.
But it is to Theodore Hertoge, a Dutchman,
that the honor
of the great discovery belongs. He touched the western coast
of Australia in 25 degrees latitude, and c=
alled
it Eendracht,
after his vessel. From this time navigators increase=
d.
In 1618, Zeachen discovered the northern p=
arts
of the coast,
and called them Arnheim and Diemen. In 1618, Jan Edels went along
the western coast, and christened it by his
own name. In 1622,
Leuwin went down as far as the cape which
became his namesake."
And so Paganel continued with name after n=
ame
until his hearers
cried for mercy.
"Stop, Paganel," said Glenarvan,
laughing heartily, "don't quite
crush poor McNabbs. Be generous; he owns he is
vanquished."
"And what about the rifle?" asked
the geographer, triumphantly.
"It is yours, Paganel," replied =
the
Major, "and I am very sorry for it;
but your memory might gain an armory by su=
ch
feats."
"It is certainly impossible to be bet=
ter
acquainted with Australia;
not the least name, not even the most trif=
ling
fact--"
"As to the most trifling fact, I don't
know about that,"
said the Major, shaking his head.
"What do you mean, McNabbs?"
exclaimed Paganel.
"Simply that perhaps all the incidents
connected with the discovery
of Australia may not be known to you."=
;
"Just fancy," retorted Paganel,
throwing back his head proudly.
"Come now. If I name one fact you don't know,=
will
you give me
back my rifle?" said McNabbs.
"On the spot, Major."
"Very well, it's a bargain, then.&quo=
t;
"Yes, a bargain; that's settled."=
;
"All right. Well now, Paganel, do you know how=
it is
that Australia
does not belong to France?"
"But it seems to me--"
"Or, at any rate, do you know what's =
the
reason the English give?"
asked the Major.
"No," replied Paganel, with an a=
ir
of vexation.
"Just because Captain Baudin, who was=
by
no means a timid man,
was so afraid in 1802, of the croaking of =
the
Australian frogs,
that he raised his anchor with all possible
speed, and quitted
the coast, never to return."
"What!" exclaimed Paganel. "Do they actually give that v=
ersion
of it in England? But it is just a bad joke."
"Bad enough, certainly, but still it =
is
history in the United Kingdom."
"It's an insult!" exclaimed the
patriotic geographer;
"and they relate that gravely?"<= o:p>
"I must own it is the case," rep=
lied
Glenarvan, amidst a general
outburst of laughter. "Do you mean to say you have =
never
heard
of it before?"
"Never! But I protest against it. Besides, the English call
us 'frog-eaters.' Now, in general, people =
are
not afraid
of what they eat."
"It is said, though, for all that,&qu=
ot;
replied McNabbs. So the Major=
kept his famous rifle after all.
Two days after this conversation, John Man=
gles
announced
that the
and the passengers found on consulting the
chart that consequently
could not be more than five degrees off.
They must be sailing then in that part of =
the
which washed the Australian continent, and=
in
four days might
hope to see
Hitherto the yacht had been favored by a
strong westerly breeze,
but now there were evident signs that a ca=
lm
was impending, and on
the 13th of December the wind fell entirel=
y;
as the sailors say,
there was not enough to fill a cap.
There was no saying how long this state of=
the
atmosphere might last.
But for the powerful propeller the yacht w=
ould
have been obliged to lie
motionless as a log. The young captain was very much an=
noyed,
however,
at the prospect of emptying his coal-bunke=
rs,
for he had covered his ship
with canvas, intending to take advantage of
the slightest breeze.
"After all, though," said Glenar=
van,
with whom he was talking over
the subject, "it is better to have no
wind than a contrary one."
"Your Lordship is right," replied
John Mangles; "but the fact is these
sudden calms bring change of weather, and =
this
is why I dread them.
We are close on the trade winds, and if we=
get
them ever so little
in our teeth, it will delay us greatly.&qu=
ot;
"Well, John, what if it does? It will only make our voyage
a little longer."
"Yes, if it does not bring a storm wi=
th
it."
"Do you mean to say you think we are
going to have bad weather?"
replied Glenarvan, examining the sky, which
from horizon to zenith
seemed absolutely cloudless.
"I do," returned the captain.
but I should not like to alarm Lady Glenar=
van
or Miss Grant."
"You are acting wisely; but what makes
you uneasy?"
"Sure indications of a storm. Don't trust, my Lord,
to the appearance of the sky. Nothing is more deceitful.
For the last two days the barometer has be=
en
falling in a most
ominous manner, and is now at 27 degrees.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> This is a warning I
dare not neglect, for there is nothing I d=
read
more than storms
in the Southern Seas; I have had a taste of
them already.
The vapors which become condensed in the
immense glaciers at
the South Pole produce a current of air of
extreme violence.
This causes a struggle between the polar a=
nd
equatorial winds,
which results in cyclones, tornadoes, and =
all
those multiplied
varieties of tempest against which a ship =
is
no match."
"Well, John," said Glenarvan,
"the DUNCAN is a good ship,
and her captain is a brave sailor. Let the storm come,
we'll meet it!"
John Mangles remained on deck the whole ni=
ght,
for though as yet
the sky was still unclouded, he had such f=
aith
in his weather-glass,
that he took every precaution that prudence
could suggest.
About 11 P. M. the sky began to darken in =
the
south,
and the crew were called up, and all the s=
ails
hauled in,
except the foresail, brigantine, top-sail,=
and
jib-boom. At midnight
the wind freshened, and before long the
cracking of the masts,
and the rattling of the cordage, and groan=
ing
of the timbers,
awakened the passengers, who speedily made
their appearance on deck--
at least Paganel, Glenarvan, the Major and
Robert.
"Is it the hurricane?" asked
Glenarvan quietly.
"Not yet," replied the captain;
"but it is close at hand."
And he went on giving his orders to the me=
n,
and doing his best to make
ready for the storm, standing, like an off=
icer
commanding a breach,
with his face to the wind, and his gaze fi=
xed
on the troubled sky.
The glass had fallen to 26 degrees, and the
hand pointed to tempest.
It was one o'clock in the morning when Lady
Helena and
Miss Grant ventured upstairs on deck. But they no sooner
made their appearance than the captain hur=
ried
toward them,
and begged them to go below again immediat=
ely. The waves were
already beginning to dash over the side of=
the
ship, and the sea
might any moment sweep right over her from
stem to stern.
The noise of the warring elements was so g=
reat
that his words
were scarcely audible, but Lady Helena took
advantage of a sudden
lull to ask if there was any danger.
"None whatever," replied John
Mangles; "but you cannot remain
on deck, madam, no more can Miss Mary.&quo=
t;
The ladies could not disobey an order that
seemed almost an entreaty,
and they returned to their cabin. At the same moment the wind redoub=
led
its fury, making the masts bend beneath the
weight of the sails,
and completely lifting up the yacht.
"Haul up the foresail!" shouted =
the
captain. "Lower the
topsail and jib-boom!"
Glenarvan and his companions stood silently
gazing at the struggle between
their good ship and the waves, lost in
wondering and half-terrified
admiration at the spectacle.
Just then, a dull hissing was heard above =
the
noise of the elements.
The steam was escaping violently, not by t=
he
funnel, but from the
safety-valves of the boiler; the alarm whi=
stle
sounded unnaturally loud,
and the yacht made a frightful pitch,
overturning Wilson,
who was at the wheel, by an unexpected blow
from the tiller.
The DUNCAN no longer obeyed the helm.
"What is the matter?" cried the
captain, rushing on the bridge.
"The ship is heeling over on her
side," replied Wilson.
"The engine! the engine!" shouted
the engineer.
Away rushed John to the engine-room. A clo=
ud
of steam filled the room.
The pistons were motionless in their
cylinders, and they were
apparently powerless, and the engine-drive=
r,
fearing for his boilers,
was letting off the steam.
"What's wrong?" asked the captai=
n.
"The propeller is bent or
entangled," was the reply.
"It's not acting at all."
"Can't you extricate it?"
"It is impossible."
An accident like this could not be remedie=
d,
and John's only resource
was to fall back on his sails, and seek to
make an auxiliary
of his most powerful enemy, the wind. He went up again on deck,
and after explaining in a few words to Lord
Glenarvan how things stood,
begged him to retire to his cabin, with the
rest of the passengers.
But Glenarvan wished to remain above.
"No, your Lordship," said the
captain in a firm tone,
"I must be alone with my men. Go into the saloon.
The vessel will have a hard fight with the
waves, and they
would sweep you over without mercy."<= o:p>
"But we might be a help."
"Go in, my Lord, go in. I must indeed insist on it.
There are times when I must be master on
board, and retire you must."
Their situation must indeed be desperate f=
or
John Mangles to speak
in such authoritative language. Glenarvan was wise enough to
understand this, and felt he must set an
example in obedience.
He therefore quitted the deck immediately =
with
his three companions,
and rejoined the ladies, who were anxiously
watching the DENOUEMENT
of this war with the elements.
"He's an energetic fellow, this brave
John of mine!" said Lord Glenarvan,
as he entered the saloon.
"That he is," replied Paganel. "He reminds me of your great<=
o:p>
Shakespeare's boatswain in the 'Tempest,' =
who
says to the king
on board:=
'Hence! What care these
roarers for the name of king?
To cabin!=
Silence! Trouble us
not.'"
However, John Mangles did not lose a secon=
d in
extricating his
ship from the peril in which she was place=
d by
the condition
of her screw propeller. He resolved to rely on the mainsai=
l
for keeping in the right route as far as
possible, and to brace
the yards obliquely, so as not to present a
direct front to the storm.
The yacht turned about like a swift horse =
that
feels the spur,
and presented a broadside to the billows.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The only question was,
how long would she hold out with so little
sail, and what sail could
resist such violence for any length of
time. The great advantage
of keeping up the mainsail was that it
presented to the waves only
the most solid portions of the yacht, and =
kept
her in the right course.
Still it involved some peril, for the vess=
el
might get
engulfed between the waves, and not be abl=
e to
raise herself.
But Mangles felt there was no alternative,=
and
all he could
do was to keep the crew ready to alter the
sail at any moment,
and stay in the shrouds himself watching t=
he
tempest.
The remainder of the night was spent in th=
is
manner, and it was hoped
that morning would bring a calm. But this was a delusive hope.
At 8 A. M. the wind had increased to a
hurricane.
John said nothing, but he trembled for his
ship, and those on board.
The DUNCAN made a frightful plunge forward,
and for an instant
the men thought she would never rise
again. Already they had
seized their hatchets to cut away the shro=
uds
from the mainmast,
but the next minute the sails were torn aw=
ay
by the tempest,
and had flown off like gigantic albatrosse=
s.
The yacht had risen once more, but she fou=
nd
herself at the mercy
of the waves entirely now, with nothing to
steady or direct her,
and was so fearfully pitched and tossed ab=
out
that every moment
the captain expected the masts would break
short off. John had no
resource but to put up a forestaysail, and=
run
before the gale.
But this was no easy task. Twenty times over he had all his w=
ork
to begin again, and it was 3 P. M. before =
his
attempt succeeded.
A mere shred of canvas though it was, it w=
as
enough to drive
the DUNCAN forward with inconceivable rapi=
dity
to the northeast,
of course in the same direction as the
hurricane.
Swiftness was their only chance of
safety. Sometimes she would
get in advance of the waves which carried =
her
along, and cutting
through them with her sharp prow, bury her=
self
in their depths.
At others, she would keep pace with them, =
and
make such enormous
leaps that there was imminent danger of her
being pitched over on
her side, and then again, every now and th=
en
the storm-driven sea
would out-distance the yacht, and the angry
billows would sweep
over the deck from stem to stern with
tremendous violence.
In this alarming situation and amid dreadf=
ul
alternations of hope
and despair, the 12th of December passed a=
way,
and the ensuing night,
John Mangles never left his post, not even=
to
take food.
Though his impassive face betrayed no symp=
toms
of fear, he was
tortured with anxiety, and his steady gaze=
was
fixed on the north,
as if trying to pierce through the thick m=
ists
that enshrouded it.
There was, indeed, great cause for fear. The DUNCAN was
out of her course, and rushing toward the
Australian coast
with a speed which nothing could lessen. To John Mangles
it seemed as if a thunderbolt were driving
them along.
Every instant he expected the yacht would =
dash
against some rock,
for he reckoned the coast could not be more
than twelve miles off,
and better far be in mid ocean exposed to =
all
its fury than
too near land.
John Mangles went to find Glenarvan, and h=
ad a
private talk with him
about their situation, telling him frankly=
the
true state of affairs,
stating the case with all the coolness of a
sailor prepared for anything
and everything and he wound up by saying he
might, perhaps, be obliged
to cast the yacht on shore.
"To save the lives of those on board,=
my
Lord," he added.
"Do it then, John," replied Lord
Glenarvan.
"And Lady Helena, Miss Grant?"
"I will tell them at the last moment =
when
all hope of keeping
out at sea is over. You will let me know?"
"I will, my Lord."
Glenarvan rejoined his companions, who felt
they were in
imminent danger, though no word was spoken=
on
the subject.
Both ladies displayed great courage, fully
equal to any of the party.
Paganel descanted in the most inopportune
manner about the direction
of atmospheric currents, making interesting
comparisons,
between tornadoes, cyclones, and rectiline=
ar
tempests.
The Major calmly awaited the end with the
fatalism of a Mussulman.
About eleven o'clock, the hurricane appear=
ed
to decrease slightly.
The damp mist began to clear away, and a
sudden gleam of
light revealed a low-lying shore about six
miles distant.
They were driving right down on it. Enormous breakers fifty
feet high were dashing over it, and the fa=
ct
of their height
showed John there must be solid ground bef=
ore
they could make
such a rebound.
"Those are sand-banks," he said =
to
Austin.
"I think they are," replied the
mate.
"We are in God's hands," said
John. "If we cannot find=
any
opening for the yacht, and if she doesn't =
find
the way in herself,
we are lost."
"The tide is high at present, it is j=
ust
possible we may ride
over those sand-banks."
"But just see those breakers. What ship could stand them.
Let us invoke divine aid, Austin!"
Meanwhile the DUNCAN was speeding on at a
frightful rate.
Soon she was within two miles of the sand-=
banks,
which
were still veiled from time to time in thi=
ck
mist.
But John fancied he could see beyond the
breakers a quiet basin,
where the DUNCAN would be in comparative
safety.
But how could she reach it?
All the passengers were summoned on deck, =
for
now that the hour
of shipwreck was at hand, the captain did =
not
wish anyone to be shut
up in his cabin.
"John!" said Glenarvan in a low
voice to the captain, "I will try to save
my wife or perish with her. I put Miss Grant in your charge.&q=
uot;
"Yes, my Lord," replied John
Mangles, raising Glenarvan's hand
to his moistened eyes.
The yacht was only a few cables' lengths f=
rom
the sandbanks.
The tide was high, and no doubt there was
abundance of water
to float the ship over the dangerous bar; =
but
these terrific
breakers alternately lifting her up and th=
en
leaving her almost dry,
would infallibly make her graze the
sand-banks.
Was there no means of calming this angry
sea? A last expedient
struck the captain. "The oil, my lads!" he
exclaimed.
"Bring the oil here!"
The crew caught at the idea immediately; t=
his
was a plan that had
been successfully tried already. The fury of the waves had been
allayed before this time by covering them =
with
a sheet of oil.
Its effect is immediate, but very
temporary. The moment after a=
ship
has passed over the smooth surface, the sea
redoubles its violence,
and woe to the bark that follows. The casks of seal-oil were forthwi=
th
hauled up, for danger seemed to have given=
the
men double strength.
A few hatchet blows soon knocked in the he=
ads,
and they were then
hung over the larboard and starboard.
"Be ready!" shouted John, looking
out for a favorable moment.
In twenty seconds the yacht reached the
bar. Now was the time.
"Pour out!" cried the captain,
"and God prosper it!"
The barrels were turned upside down, and
instantly a sheet of oil covered
the whole surface of the water. The billows fell as if by magic,
the whole foaming sea seemed leveled, and =
the
DUNCAN flew over
its tranquil bosom into a quiet basin beyo=
nd
the formidable bar;
but almost the same minute the ocean burst
forth again with all its fury,
and the towering breakers dashed over the =
bar
with increased violence.
THE captain's first care was to anchor his
vessel securely.
He found excellent moorage in five fathoms'
depth of water,
with a solid bottom of hard granite, which
afforded a firm hold.
There was no danger now of either being dr=
iven
away or stranded
at low water. After so many hours of danger, the=
herself in a sort of creek, sheltered by a
high circular point
from the winds outside in the open sea.
Lord Glenarvan grasped John Mangles' hand,=
and
simply said:
"Thank you, John."
This was all, but John felt it ample
recompense. Glenarvan kept to=
himself the secret of his anxiety, and nei=
ther
Lady Helena, nor Mary,
nor Robert suspected the grave perils they=
had
just escaped.
One important fact had to be ascertained.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> On what part of the coast had
the tempest thrown them? How far must they go to regain the=
parallel.
At what distance S. W. was Cape
Bernouilli? This was soon
determined
by taking the position of the ship, and it=
was
found that she had scarcely
deviated two degrees from the route. They were in longitude 36 degrees<= o:p>
12 minutes, and latitude 32 degrees 67
minutes, at Cape Catastrophe,
three hundred miles from Cape Bernouilli.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The nearest port was Adelaide,
the Capital of Southern Australia.
Could the DUNCAN be repaired there? This was the question.
The extent of the injuries must first be
ascertained, and in order
to do this he ordered some of the men to d=
ive
down below the stern.
Their report was that one of the branches =
of
the screw was bent,
and had got jammed against the stern post,
which of course prevented
all possibility of rotation. This was a serious damage, so seri=
ous
as to require more skilful workmen than co=
uld
be found in Adelaide.
After mature reflection, Lord Glenarvan and
John Mangles came
to the determination to sail round the
Australian coast,
stopping at Cape Bernouilli, and continuing
their route south
as far as Melbourne, where the DUNCAN could
speedily be put right.
This effected, they would proceed to cruise
along the eastern
coast to complete their search for the
BRITANNIA.
This decision was unanimously approved, an=
d it
was agreed
that they should start with the first fair
wind.
They had not to wait long for the same nig=
ht
the hurricane
had ceased entirely, and there was only a
manageable breeze
from the S. W. Preparations for sailing we=
re
instantly commenced,
and at four o'clock in the morning the crew
lifted the anchors,
and got under way with fresh canvas outspr=
ead,
and a wind
blowing right for the Australian shores.
Two hours afterward Cape Catastrophe was o=
ut
of sight.
In the evening they doubled Cape Borda, and
came alongside
Kangaroo Island. This is the largest of the Austral=
ian
islands,
and a great hiding place for runaway
convicts. Its appearance
was enchanting. The stratified rocks on the shore =
were
richly
carpeted with verdure, and innumerable
kangaroos were jumping over
the woods and plains, just as at the time =
of
its discovery in 1802.
Next day, boats were sent ashore to examine
the coast minutely,
as they were now on the 36th parallel, and
between that and the 38th
Glenarvan wished to leave no part unexplor=
ed.
The boats had hard, rough work of it now, =
but
the men never complained.
Glenarvan and his inseparable companion,
Paganel, and young Robert
generally accompanied them. But all this painstaking explorati=
on
came
to nothing. Not a trace of the shipwreck could=
be
seen anywhere.
The Australian shores revealed no more than
the Patagonian. However, it
was not time yet to lose hope altogether, =
for
they had not reached
the exact point indicated by the document.=
On the 20th of December, they arrived off =
Cape
Bernouilli,
which terminates Lacepede Bay, and yet not=
a
vestige of the
BRITANNIA had been discovered. Still this was not surprising,
as it was two years since the occurrence of
the catastrophe,
and the sea might, and indeed must, have
scattered and destroyed
whatever fragments of the brig had
remained. Besides, the native=
s
who scent a wreck as the vultures do a dead
body, would have
pounced upon it and carried off the smaller
DEBRIS. There was
no doubt whatever Harry Grant and his
companions had been
made prisoners the moment the waves threw =
them
on the shore,
and been dragged away into the interior of=
the
continent.
But if so, what becomes of Paganel's ingen=
ious
hypothesis about the
document? viz., that it had been thrown in=
to a
river and carried by a
current into the sea. That was a plausible enough theory=
in
Patagonia,
but not in the part of Australia intersect=
ed
by the 37th parallel.
Besides the Patagonian rivers, the Rio
Colorado and the Rio Negro,
flow into the sea along deserted solitudes,
uninhabited and uninhabitable;
while, on the contrary, the principal rive=
rs
of Australia--the Murray,
the Yarrow, the Torrens, the Darling--all
connected with each other,
throw themselves into the ocean by
well-frequented routes, and their
mouths are ports of great activity. What likelihood, consequently,
would there be that a fragile bottle would
ever find its way along
such busy thoroughfares right out into the
Indian Ocean?
Paganel himself saw the impossibility of i=
t,
and confessed to the Major,
who raised a discussion on the subject, th=
at
his hypothesis would
be altogether illogical in Australia. It was evident that the degrees
given related to the place where the BRITA=
NNIA
was actually shipwrecked
and not the place of captivity, and that t=
he
bottle therefore had been
thrown into the sea on the western coast of
the continent.
However, as Glenarvan justly remarked, this
did not alter
the fact of Captain Grant's captivity in t=
he
least degree,
though there was no reason now for prosecu=
ting
the search
for him along the 37th parallel, more than=
any
other.
It followed, consequently, that if no trac=
es
of the BRITANNIA
were discovered at Cape Bernouilli, the on=
ly
thing to be done was
to return to Europe. Lord Glenarvan would have been
unsuccessful,
but he would have done his duty courageous=
ly
and conscientiously.
But the young Grants did not feel
disheartened. They had long s=
ince
said
to themselves that the question of their
father's deliverance was about
to be finally settled. Irrevocably, indeed, they might co=
nsider
it,
for as Paganel had judiciously demonstrate=
d,
if the wreck had occurred
on the eastern side, the survivors would h=
ave
found their way back
to their own country long since.
"Hope on! Hope on, Mary!" said Lady Hel=
ena to
the young girl,
as they neared the shore; "God's hand
will still lead us."
"Yes, Miss Mary," said Captain
John. "Man's extremity
is God's opportunity. When one way is hedged up another =
is
sure to open."
"God grant it," replied Mary.
Land was quite close now. The cape ran out two miles into th=
e sea,
and terminated in a gentle slope, and the =
boat
glided easily
into a sort of natural creek between coral
banks in a state
of formation, which in course of time woul=
d be
a belt of coral
reefs round the southern point of the
Australian coast.
Even now they were quite sufficiently
formidable to destroy
the keel of a ship, and the BRITANNIA might
likely enough
have been dashed to pieces on them.
The passengers landed without the least
difficulty on an absolutely
desert shore. Cliffs composed of beds of strata =
made a
coast
line sixty to eighty feet high, which it w=
ould
have been
difficult to scale without ladders or
cramp-irons. John Mangles
happened to discover a natural breach about
half a mile south.
Part of the cliff had been partially beaten
down, no doubt,
by the sea in some equinoctial gale. Through this opening the whole
party passed and reached the top of the cl=
iff
by a pretty steep path.
Robert climbed like a young cat, and was t=
he
first on the summit,
to the despair of Paganel, who was quite
ashamed to see his long legs,
forty years old, out-distanced by a young
urchin of twelve.
However, he was far ahead of the Major, who
gave himself no concern
on the subject.
They were all soon assembled on the lofty
crags, and from this
elevation could command a view of the whole
plain below.
It appeared entirely uncultivated, and cov=
ered
with shrubs and bushes.
Glenarvan thought it resembled some glens =
in
the lowlands of Scotland,
and Paganel fancied it like some barren pa=
rts
of Britanny. But along
the coast the country appeared to be
inhabited, and significant signs
of industry revealed the presence of civil=
ized
men, not savages.
"A mill!" exclaimed Robert.
And, sure enough, in the distance the long
sails of a mill appeared,
apparently about three miles off.
"It certainly is a windmill," sa=
id
Paganel, after examining the object
in question through his telescope.
"Let us go to it, then," said
Glenarvan.
Away they started, and, after walking about
half an hour,
the country began to assume a new aspect,
suddenly changing
its sterility for cultivation. Instead of bushes,
quick-set hedges met the eye, inclosing re=
cent
clearings.
Several bullocks and about half a dozen ho=
rses
were feeding
in meadows, surrounded by acacias supplied
from the vast plantations
of Kangaroo Island. Gradually fields covered with cere=
als
came
in sight, whole acres covered with bristli=
ng
ears of corn,
hay-ricks in the shape of large bee-hives,
blooming orchards,
a fine garden worthy of Horace, in which t=
he
useful and agreeable
were blended; then came sheds; commons wis=
ely
distributed,
and last of all, a plain comfortable
dwelling-house, crowned
by a joyous-sounding mill, and fanned and
shaded by its long
sails as they kept constantly moving round=
.
Just at that moment a pleasant-faced man,
about fifty years
of age, came out of the house, warned, by =
the
loud barking
of four dogs, of the arrival of
strangers. He was followed
by five handsome strapping lads, his sons,=
and
their mother,
a fine tall woman. There was no mistaking the little =
group.
This was a perfect type of the Irish
colonist--a man who,
weary of the miseries of his country, had
come, with his family,
to seek fortune and happiness beyond the s=
eas.
Before Glenarvan and his party had time to
reach the house and
present themselves in due form, they heard=
the
cordial words:
"Strangers! welcome to the house of P=
addy
O'Moore!"
"You are Irish," said Glenarvan,
"if I am not mistaken,"
warmly grasping the outstretched hand of t=
he
colonist.
"I was," replied Paddy O'Moore,
"but now I am Australian. Come
in,
gentlemen, whoever you may be, this house =
is
yours."
It was impossible not to accept an invitat=
ion
given with such grace.
Lady Helena and Mary Grant were led in by =
Mrs.
O'Moore, while the
gentlemen were assisted by his sturdy sons=
to
disencumber themselves
of their fire-arms.
An immense hall, light and airy, occupied =
the
ground floor of
the house, which was built of strong planks
laid horizontally.
A few wooden benches fastened against the
gaily-colored walls,
about ten stools, two oak chests on tin mu=
gs,
a large long table
where twenty guests could sit comfortably,
composed the furniture,
which looked in perfect keeping with the s=
olid
house and robust inmates.
The noonday meal was spread; the soup ture=
en
was smoking between roast
beef and a leg of mutton, surrounded by la=
rge
plates of olives,
grapes, and oranges. The necessary was there and there =
was no
lack of the superfluous. The host and hostess were so pleas=
ant,
and the big table, with its abundant fare,=
looked
so inviting,
that it would have been ungracious not to =
have
seated themselves.
The farm servants, on equal footing with t=
heir
master,
were already in their places to take their
share of the meal.
Paddy O'Moore pointed to the seats reserved
for the strangers,
and said to Glenarvan:
"I was waiting for you."
"Waiting for us!" replied Glenar=
van
in a tone of surprise.
"I am always waiting for those who
come," said the Irishman; and then,
in a solemn voice, while the family and
domestics reverently stood,
he repeated the BENEDICITE.
Dinner followed immediately, during which =
an
animated conversation
was kept up on all sides. From Scotch to Irish is but a
handsbreadth.
The Tweed, several fathoms wide, digs a de=
eper
trench between Scotland
and England than the twenty leagues of Iri=
sh
Channel, which separates
Old Caledonia from the Emerald Isle. Paddy O'Moore related his history.=
It was that of all emigrants driven by
misfortune from their own country.
Many come to seek fortunes who only find
trouble and sorrow,
and then they throw the blame on chance, a=
nd
forget the true
cause is their own idleness and vice and w=
ant
of commonsense.
Whoever is sober and industrious, honest a=
nd
economical, gets on.
Such a one had been and was Paddy O'Moore.=
He
left Dundalk,
where he was starving, and came with his
family to Australia,
landed at Adelaide, where, refusing employ=
ment
as a miner,
he got engaged on a farm, and two months
afterward commenced
clearing ground on his own account.
The whole territory of South Australia is
divided into lots,
each containing eighty acres, and these are
granted to colonists
by the government. Any industrious man, by proper
cultivation,
can not only get a living out of his lot, =
but
lay by pounds
80 a year.
Paddy O'Moore knew this. He profited by his own former
experience,
and laid by every penny he could till he h=
ad
saved enough
to purchase new lots. His family prospered, and his farm=
also.
The Irish peasant became a landed propriet=
or,
and though his little
estate had only been under cultivation for=
two
years, he had five hundred
acres cleared by his own hands, and five
hundred head of cattle.
He was his own master, after having been a
serf in Europe,
and as independent as one can be in the fr=
eest
country in the world.
His guests congratulated him heartily as he
ended his narration;
and Paddy O'Moore no doubt expected confid=
ence
for confidence,
but he waited in vain. However, he was one of those discr=
eet
people
who can say, "I tell you who I am, bu=
t I
don't ask who you are."
Glenarvan's great object was to get
information about the BRITANNIA,
and like a man who goes right to the point=
, he
began at once
to interrogate O'Moore as to whether he had
heard of the shipwreck.
The reply of the Irishman was not favorabl=
e;
he had never
heard the vessel mentioned. For two years, at least,
no ship had been wrecked on that coast,
neither above nor below
the Cape.=
Now, the date of the catastrophe was within two years.
He could, therefore, declare positively th=
at
the survivors of
the wreck had not been thrown on that part=
of
the western shore.
Now, my Lord," he added, "may I =
ask
what interest you have
in making the inquiry?"
This pointed question elicited in reply the
whole history of
the expedition. Glenarvan related the discovery of=
the
document,
and the various attempts that had been mad=
e to
follow up the precise
indications given of the whereabouts of the
unfortunate captives;
and he concluded his account by expressing=
his
doubt whether they
should ever find the Captain after all.
His dispirited tone made a painful impress=
ion
on the minds of
his auditors. Robert and Mary could not keep back
their tears,
and Paganel had not a word of hope or comf=
ort
to give them.
John Mangles was grieved to the heart, tho=
ugh
he, too, was beginning
to yield to the feeling of hopelessness wh=
ich
had crept over the rest,
when suddenly the whole party were electri=
fied
by hearing
a voice exclaim: "My Lord, praise and thank Go=
d! if
Captain Grant
is alive, he is on this Australian
continent."
THE surprise caused by these words cannot =
be
described.
Glenarvan sprang to his feet, and pushing =
back
his seat, exclaimed:
"Who spoke?"
"I did," said one of the servant=
s,
at the far end of the table.
"You, Ayrton!" replied his maste=
r,
not less bewildered than Glenarvan.
"Yes, it was I," rejoined Ayrton=
in
a firm tone, though somewhat
agitated voice. "A Scotchman like yourself, my
Lord, and one
of the shipwrecked crew of the
BRITANNIA."
The effect of such a declaration may be im=
agined.
Mary Grant fell back, half-fainting, in La=
dy
Helena's arms,
overcome by joyful emotion, and Robert, and
Mangles,
and Paganel started up and toward the man =
that
Paddy O'Moore
had addressed as AYRTON. He was a coarse-looking fellow,
about forty-five years of age, with very
bright eyes,
though half-hidden beneath thick, overhang=
ing
brows.
In spite of extreme leanness there was an =
air
of unusual
strength about him. He seemed all bone and nerves, or,=
to
use
a Scotch expression, as if he had not wast=
ed
time in making fat.
He was broad-shouldered and of middle heig=
ht,
and though his
features were coarse, his face was so full=
of
intelligence and
energy and decision, that he gave one a
favorable impression.
The interest he excited was still further
heightened by
the marks of recent suffering imprinted on=
his
countenance.
It was evident that he had endured long and
severe hardships,
and that he had borne them bravely and come
off victor.
"You are one of the shipwrecked sailo=
rs
of the BRITANNIA?"
was Glenarvan's first question.
"Yes, my Lord; Captain Grant's
quartermaster."
"And saved with him after the
shipwreck?"
"No, my Lord, no. I was separated from him at that
terrible moment,
for I was swept off the deck as the ship
struck."
"Then you are not one of the two sail=
ors
mentioned in the document?"
"No; I was not aware of the existence=
of
the document.
The captain must have thrown it into the s=
ea
when I was no
longer on board."
"But the captain? What about the captain?"
"I believed he had perished; gone down
with all his crew.
I imagined myself the sole survivor."=
"But you said just now, Captain Grant=
was
living."
"No, I said, 'if the captain is
living.'"
"And you added, 'he is on the Austral=
ian
continent.'"
"And, indeed, he cannot be anywhere e=
lse."
"Then you don't know where he is?&quo=
t;
"No, my Lord. I say again, I supposed he was bur=
ied
beneath the waves, or dashed to pieces aga=
inst
the rocks.
It was from you I learned that he was still
alive."
"What then do you know?"
"Simply this--if Captain Grant is ali=
ve,
he is in Australia."
"Where did the shipwreck occur?"
asked Major McNabbs.
This should have been the first question, =
but
in the excitement
caused by the unexpected incident, Glenarv=
an
cared more to know
where the captain was, than where the
BRITANNIA had been lost.
After the Major's inquiry, however,
Glenarvan's examination proceeded
more logically, and before long all the
details of the event stood
out clearly before the minds of the compan=
y.
To the question put by the Major, Ayrton r=
eplied:
"When I was swept off the forecastle,
when I was hauling in the
jib-boom, the BRITANNIA was running right =
on
the Australian coast.
She was not more than two cables' length f=
rom
it and consequently
she must have struck just there."
"In latitude 37 degrees?" asked =
John
Mangles.
"Yes, in latitude 37 degrees."
"On the west coast?"
"No, on the east coast," was the
prompt reply.
"And at what date?"
"It was on the night of the 27th of J=
une,
1862."
"Exactly, just exactly," exclaim=
ed
Glenarvan.
"You see, then, my Lord," contin=
ued
Ayrton, "I might justly say,
If Captain Grant is alive, he is on the
Australian continent,
and it is useless looking for him anywhere
else."
"And we will look for him there, and =
find
him too, and save him,"
exclaimed Paganel. "Ah, precious document," =
he
added,
with perfect NAIVETE, "you must own y=
ou
have fallen into the hands
of uncommonly shrewd people."
But, doubtless, nobody heard his flattering
words,
for Glenarvan and Lady Helena, and Mary Gr=
ant,
and Robert,
were too much engrossed with Ayrton to lis=
ten
to anyone else.
They pressed round him and grasped his han=
ds.
It seemed as if this man's presence was the
sure pledge
of Harry Grant's deliverance. If this sailor had escaped
the perils of the shipwreck, why should no=
t the
captain?
Ayrton was quite sanguine as to his existe=
nce;
but on what part
of the continent he was to be found, that =
he
could not say.
The replies the man gave to the thousand
questions that assailed
him on all sides were remarkably intellige=
nt
and exact.
All the while he spake, Mary held one of h=
is
hands in hers.
This sailor was a companion of her father'=
s,
one of
the crew of the BRITANNIA. He had lived with Harry Grant,
crossed the seas with him and shared his
dangers. Mary could
not keep her eyes off his face, rough and
homely though it was,
and she wept for joy.
Up to this time no one had ever thought of
doubting either
the veracity or identity of the quartermas=
ter;
but the Major,
and perhaps John Mangles, now began to ask
themselves
if this Ayrton's word was to be absolutely
believed.
There was something suspicious about this
unexpected meeting.
Certainly the man had mentioned facts and
dates which corresponded,
and the minuteness of his details was most
striking.
Still exactness of details was no positive
proof.
Indeed, it has been noticed that a falseho=
od
has sometimes
gained ground by being exceedingly particu=
lar
in minutiae.
McNabbs, therefore, prudently refrained fr=
om
committing himself
by expressing any opinion.
John Mangles, however, was soon convinced =
when
he heard Ayrton
speak to the young girl about her father.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> He knew Mary and Robert
quite well. He had seen them in Glasgow when t=
he
ship sailed.
He remembered them at the farewell breakfa=
st
given on board the BRITANNIA
to the captain's friends, at which Sheriff
Mcintyre was present.
Robert, then a boy of ten years old, had b=
een
given into his charge,
and he ran away and tried to climb the
rigging.
"Yes, that I did, it is quite
right," said Robert.
He went on to mention several other trifli=
ng
incidents,
without attaching the importance to them t=
hat
John Mangles did,
and when he stopped Mary Grant said, in her
soft voice:
"Oh, go on, Mr. Ayrton, tell us more
about our father."
The quartermaster did his best to satisfy =
the
poor girl,
and Glenarvan did not interrupt him, thoug=
h a
score
of questions far more important crowded in=
to
his mind.
Lady Helena made him look at Mary's beaming
face, and the words
he was about to utter remained unspoken.
Ayrton gave an account of the BRITANNIA'S
voyage across
the Pacific. Mary knew most of it before, as ne=
ws of
the ship
had come regularly up to the month of May,
1862. In the course
of the year Harry Grant had touched at all=
the
principal ports.
He had been to the Hebrides, to New Guinea,
New Zealand,
and New Caledonia, and had succeeded in
finding an important
point on the western coast of Papua, where=
the
establishment
of a Scotch colony seemed to him easy, and=
its
prosperity certain.
A good port on the Molucca and Philippine
route must attract ships,
especially when the opening of the Suez Ca=
nal
would have supplanted
the Cape route. Harry Grant was one of those who
appreciated
the great work of M. De Lesseps, and would=
not
allow political
rivalries to interfere with international
interests.
After reconnoitering Papua, the BRITANNIA =
went
to provision herself at
Callao, and left that port on the 30th of =
May,
1862, to return to Europe
by the Indian Ocean and the Cape. Three weeks afterward, his vessel =
was
disabled by a fearful storm in which they =
were
caught, and obliged to cut
away the masts. A leak sprang in the hold, and cou=
ld not
be stopped.
The crew were too exhausted to work the pu=
mps,
and for eight days
the BRITANNIA was tossed about in the
hurricane like a shuttlecock.
She had six feet of water in her hold, and=
was
gradually sinking.
The boats had been all carried away by the
tempest; death stared them
in the face, when, on the night of the 22d=
of
June, as Paganel had
rightly supposed, they came in sight of the
eastern coast of Australia.
The ship soon neared the shore, and presen=
tly
dashed
violently against it. Ayrton was swept off by a wave,
and thrown among the breakers, where he lo=
st
consciousness.
When he recovered, he found himself in the
hands of natives,
who dragged him away into the interior of =
the
country.
Since that time he had never heard the
BRITANNIA's name mentioned,
and reasonably enough came to the conclusi=
on
that she had gone
down with all hands off the dangerous reef=
s of
Twofold Bay.
This ended Ayrton's recital, and more than=
once
sorrowful exclamations
were evoked by the story. The Major could not, in common jus=
tice,
doubt its authenticity. The sailor was then asked to narra=
te
his own personal history, which was short =
and
simple enough.
He had been carried by a tribe of natives =
four
hundred miles north
of the 37th parallel. He spent a miserable existence the=
re--
not that he was ill-treated, but the nativ=
es
themselves lived miserably.
He passed two long years of painful slavery
among them, but always
cherished in his heart the hope of one day
regaining his freedom,
and watching for the slightest opportunity
that might turn up,
though he knew that his flight would be
attended with innumerable dangers.
At length one night in October, 1864, he
managed to escape the vigilance
of the natives, and took refuge in the dep=
ths
of immense forests.
For a whole month he subsisted on roots,
edible ferns and mimosa gums,
wandering through vast solitudes, guiding
himself by the sun during
the day and by the stars at night. He went on, though often
almost despairingly, through bogs and rive=
rs,
and across mountains,
till he had traversed the whole of the
uninhabited part of the continent,
where only a few bold travelers have ventu=
red;
and at last,
in an exhausted and all but dying conditio=
n,
he reached the hospitable
dwelling of Paddy O'Moore, where he said he
had found a happy home
in exchange for his labor.
"And if Ayrton speaks well of me,&quo=
t;
said the Irish settler,
when the narrative ended, "I have not=
hing
but good to say of him.
He is an honest, intelligent fellow and a =
good
worker; and as long as he pleases, Paddy
O'Moore's
house shall be his."
Ayrton thanked him by a gesture, and waited
silently for any fresh
question that might be put to him, though =
he
thought to himself
that he surely must have satisfied all
legitimate curiosity.
What could remain to be said that he had n=
ot
said a hundred
times already. Glenarvan was just about to open a
discussion about
their future plan of action, profiting by =
this
rencontre with Ayrton,
and by the information he had given them, =
when
Major McNabbs,
addressing the sailor said, "You were
quartermaster, you say,
on the BRITANNIA?"
"Yes," replied Ayrton, without t=
he
least hesitation.
But as if conscious that a certain feeling=
of
mistrust, however slight,
had prompted the inquiry, he added, "I
have my shipping papers with me;
I saved them from the wreck."
He left the room immediately to fetch his
official document,
and, though hardly absent a minute, Paddy
O'Moore managed
to say, "My Lord, you may trust Ayrto=
n; I
vouch for his being
an honest man. He has been two months now in my
service,
and I have never had once to find fault wi=
th
him.
I knew all this story of his shipwreck and=
his
captivity.
He is a true man, worthy of your entire
confidence."
Glenarvan was on the point of replying tha=
t he
had never doubted
his good faith, when the man came in and
brought his engagement
written out in due form. It was a paper signed by the shipo=
wners
and Captain Grant. Mary recognized her father's writi=
ng at
once.
It was to certify that "Tom Ayrton,
able-bodied seaman,
was engaged as quartermaster on board the
three-mast vessel,
the BRITANNIA, Glasgow."
There could not possibly be the least doubt
now of Ayrton's identity,
for it would have been difficult to account
for his possession
of the document if he were not the man nam=
ed
in it.
"Now then," said Glenarvan, &quo=
t;I
wish to ask everyone's opinion as to what
is best to be done. Your advice, Ayrton, will be
particularly valuable,
and I shall be much obliged if you would l=
et
us have it."
After a few minutes' thought, Ayrton
replied--"I thank you, my Lord,
for the confidence you show towards me, an=
d I
hope to prove worthy of it.
I have some knowledge of the country, and =
the
habits of the natives,
and if I can be of any service to you--&qu=
ot;
"Most certainly you can,"
interrupted Glenarvan.
"I think with you," resumed Ayrt=
on,
"that the captain and his two
sailors have escaped alive from the wreck,=
but
since they have not
found their way to the English settlement,=
nor
been seen any where,
I have no doubt that their fate has been
similar to my own, and that
they are prisoners in the hands of some of=
the
native tribes."
"That's exactly what I have always
argued," said Paganel.
"The shipwrecked men were taken
prisoners, as they feared.
But must we conclude without question that,
like yourself,
they have been dragged away north of the 3=
7th
parallel?"
"I should suppose so, sir; for hostile
tribes would hardly remain
anywhere near the districts under the Brit=
ish
rule."
"That will complicate our search,&quo=
t;
said Glenarvan, somewhat disconcerted.
"How can we possibly find traces of t=
he
captives in the heart of so
vast a continent?"
No one replied, though Lady Helena's
questioning glances at her
companions seemed to press for an answer.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Paganel even was silent.
His ingenuity for once was at fault. John Mangles paced the cabin
with great strides, as if he fancied himse=
lf
on the deck of his ship,
evidently quite nonplussed.
"And you, Mr. Ayrton," said Lady
Helena at last, "what would you do?"
"Madam," replied Ayrton, readily
enough, "I should re-embark
in the DUNCAN, and go right to the scene of
the catastrophe.
There I should be guided by circumstances,=
and
by any chance
indications we might discover."
"Very good," returned Glenarvan;
"but we must wait till
the DUNCAN is repaired."
"Ah, she has been injured then?"
said Ayrton.
"Yes," replied Mangles.
"To any serious extent?"
"No; but such injuries as require more
skilful workmanship than
we have on board. One of the branches of the screw is
twisted,
and we cannot get it repaired nearer than
Melbourne."
"Well, let the ship go to Melbourne
then," said Paganel,
"and we will go without her to Twofold
Bay."
"And how?" asked Mangles.
"By crossing Australia as we crossed
America, keeping along
the 37th parallel."
"But the DUNCAN?" repeated Ayrto=
n,
as if particularly anxious
on that score.
"The DUNCAN can rejoin us, or we can
rejoin her, as the case may be.
Should we discover Captain Grant in the co=
urse
of our journey,
we can all return together to Melbourne. If we have to go on to
the coast, on the contrary, then the DUNCAN
can come to us there.
Who has any objection to make? Have you, Major?"
"No, not if there is a practicable ro=
ute
across Australia."
"So practicable, that I propose Lady
Helena and Miss Grant
should accompany us."
"Are you speaking seriously?" as=
ked
Glenarvan.
"Perfectly so, my Lord. It is a journey of 350 miles, not =
more.
If we go twelve miles a day it will barely
take us a month,
just long enough to put the vessel in
trim. If we had to cross
the continent in a lower latitude, at its
wildest part,
and traverse immense deserts, where there =
is
no water and where
the heat is tropical, and go where the most
adventurous travelers
have never yet ventured, that would be a d=
ifferent
matter.
But the 37th parallel cuts only through the
province
of Victoria, quite an English country, with
roads and railways,
and well populated almost everywhere. It is a journey you
might make, almost, in a chaise, though a
wagon would be better.
It is a mere trip from London to Edinburgh,
nothing more."
"What about wild beasts, though?"
asked Glenarvan, anxious to go
into all the difficulties of the proposal.=
"There are no wild beasts in
Australia."
"And how about the savages?"
"There are no savages in this latitud=
e,
and if there were,
they are not cruel, like the New
Zealanders."
"And the convicts?"
"There are no convicts in the southern
provinces, only in
the eastern colonies. The province of Victoria not only
refused
to admit them, but passed a law to prevent=
any
ticket-of-leave
men from other provinces from entering her
territories.
This very year the Government threatened to
withdraw its subsidy
from the Peninsular Company if their vesse=
ls
continued to take
in coal in those western parts of Australia
where convicts
are admitted. What! Don't you know that, and you an
Englishman?"
"In the first place, I beg leave to s=
ay I
am not an Englishman,"
replied Glenarvan.
"What M. Paganel says is perfectly
correct," said Paddy O'Moore. "Not
only the province of Victoria, but also
Southern Australia, Queensland,
and even Tasmania, have agreed to expel
convicts from their territories.
Ever since I have been on this farm, I have
never heard of one
in this Province."
"And I can speak for myself. I have never come across one."=
"You see then, friends," went on
Jacques Paganel, "there are few
if any savages, no ferocious animals, no
convicts, and there
are not many countries of Europe for which=
you
can say as much.
Well, will you go?"
"What do you think, Helena?" ask=
ed
Glenarvan.
"What we all think, dear Edward,"
replied Lady Helena, turning toward
her companions; "let us be off at
once."
GLENARVAN never lost much time between
adopting an idea and carrying
it out.&n=
bsp;
As soon as he consented to Paganel's proposition, he gave
immediate orders to make arrangements for =
the
journey with as little delay
as possible. The time of starting was fixed for=
the
22d of December,
the next day but one.
What results might not come out of this
journey. The presence
of Harry Grant had become an indisputable
fact, and the chances
of finding him had increased. Not that anyone expected to discov=
er
the captain exactly on the 37th parallel,
which they intended strictly
to follow, but they might come upon his tr=
ack,
and at all events,
they were going to the actual spot where t=
he
wreck had occurred.
That was the principal point.
Besides, if Ayrton consented to join them =
and
act as their guide
through the forests of the province of
Victoria and right to
the eastern coast, they would have a fresh
chance of success.
Glenarvan was sensible of this, and asked =
his
host whether he would
have any great objection to his asking Ayr=
ton
to accompany them,
for he felt particularly desirous of secur=
ing
the assistance
of Harry Grant's old companion.
Paddy O'Moore consented, though he would
regret the loss
of his excellent servant.
"Well, then, Ayrton, will you come wi=
th
us in our search expedition?"
Ayrton did not reply immediately. He even showed signs of hesitation=
;
but at last, after due reflection, said,
"Yes, my Lord, I will go
with you, and if I can not take you to Cap=
tain
Grant, I can at least
take you to the very place where his ship
struck."
"Thanks, Ayrton."
"One question, my Lord."
"Well?"
"Where will you meet the DUNCAN
again?"
"At Melbourne, unless we traverse the
whole continent from
coast to coast."
"But the captain?"
"The captain will await my instructio=
ns
in the port of Melbourne."
"You may depend on me then, my Lord.&=
quot;
"I will, Ayrton."
The quartermaster was warmly thanked by the
passengers
of the DUNCAN, and the children loaded him
with caresses.
Everyone rejoiced in his decision except t=
he
Irishman,
who lost in him an intelligent and faithful
helper.
But Paddy understood the importance Glenar=
van
attached to
the presence of the man, and submitted.
returned to the ship, after arranging a
rendezvous with Ayrton,
and ordering him to procure the necessary
means of conveyance
across the country.
When John Mangles supported the propositio=
n of
Paganel,
he took for granted that he should accompa=
ny
the expedition.
He began to speak to Glenarvan at once abo=
ut
it, and adduced all
sorts of arguments to advance his cause--h=
is
devotion to Lady Helena
and his Lordship, how useful could he be in
organizing the party,
and how useless on board the DUNCAN;
everything, in fact,
but the main reason, and that he had no ne=
ed
to bring forward.
"I'll only ask you one question,
John," said Glenarvan.
"Have you
entire confidence in your chief officer?&q=
uot;
"Absolute," replied Mangles,
"Tom Austin is a good sailor.
He will take the ship to her destination, =
see
that the repairs
are skilfully executed, and bring her back=
on
the appointed day.
Tom is a slave to duty and discipline. Never would he take it
upon himself to alter or retard the execut=
ion
of an order.
Your Lordship may rely on him as on
myself."
"Very well then, John," replied
Glenarvan. "You shall go=
with
us,
for it would be advisable," he added,
smiling, "that you should be
there when we find Mary Grant's father.&qu=
ot;
"Oh! your Lordship," murmured Jo=
hn,
turning pale. He could say no=
more,
but grasped Lord Glenarvan's hand.
Next day, John Mangles and the ship's
carpenter, accompanied by
sailors carrying provisions, went back to
Paddy O'Moore's house
to consult the Irishman about the best met=
hod
of transport.
All the family met him, ready to give their
best help.
Ayrton was there, and gave the benefit of =
his
experience.
On one point both he and Paddy agreed, tha=
t the
journey should be made
in a bullock-wagon by the ladies, and that=
the
gentlemen should ride
on horseback. Paddy could furnish both bullocks =
and
vehicle.
The vehicle was a cart twenty feet long,
covered over by a tilt,
and resting on four large wheels without
spokes or felloes, or iron tires--
in a word, plain wooden discs. The front and hinder part were con=
nected
by means of a rude mechanical contrivance,
which did not allow of
the vehicle turning quickly. There was a pole in front thirty-f=
ive
feet long, to which the bullocks were to be
yoked in couples.
These animals were able to draw both with =
head
and neck, as their
yoke was fastened on the nape of the neck,=
and
to this a collar
was attached by an iron peg. It required great skill to drive s=
uch
a long, narrow, shaky concern, and to guide
such a team by a goad;
but Ayrton had served his apprenticeship t=
o it
on the Irishman's farm,
and Paddy could answer for his com-petency.
The role of conductor
was therefore assigned to him.
There were no springs to the wagon, and,
consequently, it was not likely
to be very comfortable; but, such as it wa=
s,
they had to take it.
But if the rough construction could not be
altered, John Mangles
resolved that the interior should be made =
as
easy as possible.
His first care was to divide it into two
compartments by a
wooden partition. The back one was intended for the
provisions
and luggage, and M. Olbinett's portable
kitchen. The front was set
apart especially for the ladies, and, under
the carpenter's hands,
was to be speedily converted into a
comfortable room,
covered with a thick carpet, and fitted up
with a toilet table
and two couches. Thick leather curtains shut in this
apartment,
and protected the occupants from the
chilliness of the nights.
In case of necessity, the gentlemen might
shelter themselves here,
when the violent rains came on, but a tent=
was
to be their
usual resting-place when the caravan camped
for the night.
John Mangles exercised all his ingenuity in
furnishing the small
space with everything that the two ladies
could possibly require,
and he succeeded so well, that neither Lady
Helena nor Mary had much
reason to regret leaving their cosy cabins=
on
board the DUNCAN.
For the rest of the party, the preparations
were soon made,
for they needed much less. Strong horses were provided for
Lord Glenarvan, Paganel, Robert Grant,
McNabbs, and John Mangles;
also for the two sailors, Wilson and Mulra=
dy,
who were
to accompany their captain. Ayrton's place was, of course,
to be in front of the wagon, and M. Olbine=
tt,
who did not much care
for equitation, was to make room for himse=
lf
among the baggage.
Horses and bullocks were grazing in the
Irishman's meadows,
ready to fetch at a moment's notice.
After all arrangements were made, and the
carpenter set to work,
John Mangles escorted the Irishman and his
family back to the vessel,
for Paddy wished to return the visit of Lo=
rd
Glenarvan. Ayrton thought
proper to go too, and about four o'clock t=
he
party came over the side
of the DUNCAN.
They were received with open arms. Glenarvan would not be outstripped=
in politeness, and invited his visitors to
stop and dine.
His hospitality was willingly accepted.
at the splendor of the saloon, and was lou=
d in
admiration
of the fitting up of the cabins, and the
carpets and hangings,
as well as of the polished maple-wood of t=
he
upper deck.
Ayrton's approbation was much less hearty,=
for
he considered
it mere costly superfluity.
But when he examined the yacht with a sail=
or's
eye, the quartermaster
of the BRITANNIA was as enthusiastic about=
it
as Paddy. He went down into
the hold, inspected the screw department a=
nd
the engine-room, examining
the engine thoroughly, and inquired about =
its
power and consumption.
He explored the coal-bunkers, the store-ro=
om,
the powder-store,
and armory, in which last he seemed to be
particularly attracted
by a cannon mounted on the forecastle. Glenarvan saw he had to do with
a man who understood such matters, as was
evident from his questions.
Ayrton concluded his investigations by a
survey of the masts and rigging.
"You have a fine vessel, my Lord,&quo=
t;
he said after his
curiosity was satisfied.
"A good one, and that is best,"
replied Glenarvan.
"And what is her tonnage?"
"Two hundred and ten tons."
"I don't think I am far out,"
continued Ayrton, "in judging her speed
at fifteen knots. I should say she could do that
easily."
"Say seventeen," put in John
Mangles, "and you've hit the mark."
"Seventeen!" exclaimed the
quartermaster. "Why, not=
a
man-of-war--
not the best among them, I mean--could cha=
se
her!"
"Not one," replied Mangles. "The DUNCAN is a regular raci=
ng
yacht,
and would never let herself be beaten.&quo=
t;
"Even at sailing?" asked Ayrton.=
"Even at sailing."
"Well, my Lord, and you too,
captain," returned Ayrton,
"allow a sailor who knows what a ship=
is
worth, to compliment
you on yours."
"Stay on board of her, then,
Ayrton," said Glenarvan;
"it rests with yourself to call it
yours."
"I will think of it, my Lord," w=
as
all Ayrton's reply.
Just then M. Olbinett came to announce din=
ner,
and his Lordship
repaired with his guests to the saloon.
"That Ayrton is an intelligent man,&q=
uot;
said Paganel to the Major.
"Too intelligent!" muttered McNa=
bbs,
who, without any apparent reason,
had taken a great dislike to the face and =
manners
of the quartermaster.
During the dinner, Ayrton gave some
interesting details
about the Australian continent, which he k=
new
perfectly.
He asked how many sailors were going to
accompany the expedition,
and seemed astonished to hear that only two
were going.
He advised Glenarvan to take all his best =
men,
and even urged
him to do it, which advice, by the way, ou=
ght
to have removed
the Major's suspicion.
"But," said Glenarvan, "our
journey is not dangerous, is it?"
"Not at all," replied Ayrton, qu=
ickly.
"Well then, we'll have all the men we=
can
on board.
Hands will be wanted to work the ship, and=
to
help in the repairs.
Besides, it is of the utmost importance th=
at
she should meet us
to the very day, at whatever place may be
ultimately selected.
Consequently, we must not lessen her
crew."
Ayrton said nothing more, as if convinced =
his
Lordship was right.
When evening came, Scotch and Irish separa=
ted.
Ayrton and Paddy O'Moore and family return=
ed
home.
Horses and wagons were to be ready the next
day, and eight
o'clock in the morning was fixed for start=
ing.
Lady Helena and Mary Grant soon made their
preparations.
They had less to do than Jacques Paganel, =
for
he spent half the night
in arranging, and wiping, and rubbing up t=
he
lenses of his telescope.
Of course, next morning he slept on till t=
he
Major's stentorian
voice roused him.
The luggage was already conveyed to the fa=
rm,
thanks to
John Mangles, and a boat was waiting to ta=
ke
the passengers.
They were soon seated, and the young capta=
in
gave his final
orders to Tom Austin, his chief officer. He impressed upon him
that he was to wait at Melbourne for Lord
Glenarvan's commands,
and to obey them scrupulously, whatever th=
ey
might be.
The old sailor told John he might rely on =
him,
and, in the name
of the men, begged to offer his Lordship t=
heir
best wishes
for the success of this new expedition.
A storm of hurrahs burst forth from the ya=
cht
as the boat
rowed off. In ten minutes the shore was reach=
ed,
and a quarter of an hour afterward the
Irishman's farm.
All was ready. Lady Helena was enchanted with her
installation.
The huge chariot, with its primitive wheels
and massive planks,
pleased her particularly. The six bullocks, yoked in pairs,<= o:p>
had a patriarchal air about them which took
her fancy.
Ayrton, goad in hand, stood waiting the or=
ders
of this new master.
"My word," said Paganel, "t=
his
is a famous vehicle;
it beats all the mail-coaches in the
world. I don't know
a better fashion of traveling than in a
mountebank's caravan--
a movable house, which goes or stops where=
ver
you please.
What can one wish better? The Samaratians understood that,
and never traveled in any other way."=
"Monsieur Paganel," said Lady
Helena, "I hope I shall have the pleasure
of seeing you in my SALONS."
"Assuredly, madam, I should count it =
an
honor. Have you fixed the
day?"
"I shall be at home every day to my
friends," replied Lady Helena;
"and you are--"
"The most devoted among them all,&quo=
t;
interrupted Paganel, gaily.
These mutual compliments were interrupted =
by
the arrival of the
seven horses, saddled and ready. They were brought by Paddy's sons,=
and Lord Glenarvan paid the sum stipulated=
for
his various purchases,
adding his cordial thanks, which the worthy
Irishman valued at least
as much as his golden guineas.
The signal was given to start, and Lady He=
lena
and Mary took their
places in the reserved compartment. Ayrton seated himself in front,
and Olbinett scrambled in among the
luggage. The rest of the part=
y,
well armed with carbines and revolvers,
mounted their horses.
Ayrton gave a peculiar cry, and his team s=
et
off. The wagon shook
and the planks creaked, and the axles grat=
ed
in the naves of the wheels;
and before long the hospitable farm of the
Irishman was out of sight.
IT was the 23d of December, 1864, a dull,
damp, dreary month
in the northern hemisphere; but on the
Australian continent
it might be called June. The hottest season of the year had=
already commenced, and the sun's rays were
almost tropical,
when Lord Glenarvan started on his new
expedition.
Most fortunately the 37th parallel did not
cross the immense deserts,
inaccessible regions, which have cost many
martyrs to science already.
Glenarvan could never have encountered
them. He had only to do
with the southern part of Australia--viz.,
with a narrow portion of
the province of Adelaide, with the whole of
Victoria, and with the top
of the reversed triangle which forms New S=
outh
Wales.
It is scarcely sixty-two miles from Cape
Bernouilli to the frontiers
of Victoria. It was not above a two days' march=
, and
Ayrton
reckoned on their sleeping next night at
Apsley, the most westerly
town of Victoria.
The commencement of a journey is always ma=
rked
by ardor,
both in the horses and the horsemen. This is well enough
in the horsemen, but if the horses are to =
go
far,
their speed must be moderated and their
strength husbanded.
It was, therefore, fixed that the average
journey every day
should not be more than from twenty-five to
thirty miles.
Besides, the pace of the horses must be
regulated by the slower pace
of the bullocks, truly mechanical engines
which lose in time what they
gain in power. The wagon, with its passengers and
provisions,
was the very center of the caravan, the mo=
ving
fortress.
The horsemen might act as scouts, but must
never be far away from it.
As no special marching order had been agre=
ed
upon, everybody was
at liberty to follow his inclinations with=
in
certain limits.
The hunters could scour the plain, amiable
folks could
talk to the fair occupants of the wagon, a=
nd
philosophers
could philosophize. Paganel, who was all three combine=
d,
had to be and was everywhere at once.
The march across Adelaide presented nothin=
g of
any particular interest.
A succession of low hills rich in dust, a =
long
stretch of what they call
in Australia "bush," several
prairies covered with a small prickly bush,
considered a great dainty by the ovine tri=
be,
embraced many miles.
Here and there they noticed a species of s=
heep
peculiar to New Holland--
sheep with pig's heads, feeding between the
posts of the telegraph line
recently made between Adelaide and the coa=
st.
Up to this time there had been a singular
resemblance in the country
to the monotonous plains of the Argentine
Pampas. There was
the same grassy flat soil, the same sharpl=
y-defined
horizon against
the sky.&=
nbsp;
McNabbs declared they had never changed countries;
but Paganel told him to wait, and he would
soon see a difference.
And on the faith of this assurance marvelo=
us
things were expected
by the whole party.
In this fashion, after a march of sixty mi=
les
in two days,
the caravan reached the parish of Apsley, =
the
first town
in the Province of Victoria in the Wimerra
district.
The wagon was put up at the Crown Inn. Supper was soon smoking on
the table. It consisted solely of mutton serv=
ed up
in various ways.
They all ate heartily, but talked more than
they ate, eagerly asking
Paganel questions about the wonders of the
country they were just
beginning to traverse. The amiable geographer needed no
pressing,
and told them first that this part of it w=
as
called Australia Felix.
"Wrongly named!" he continued. "It had better have been
called rich, for it is true of countries, =
as
individuals,
that riches do not make happiness. Thanks to her gold mines,
Australia has been abandoned to wild
devastating adventurers.
You will come across them when we reach the
gold fields."
"Is not the colony of Victoria of but=
a
recent origin?"
asked Lady Glenarvan.
"Yes, madam, it only numbers thirty y=
ears
of existence.
It was on the 6th of June, 1835, on a
Tuesday--"
"At a quarter past seven in the
evening," put in the Major,
who delighted in teasing the Frenchman abo=
ut
his precise dates.
"No, at ten minutes past seven,"
replied the geographer, gravely,
"that Batman and Falckner first began=
a
settlement at Port Phillip,
the bay on which the large city of Melbour=
ne
now stands.
For fifteen years the colony was part of N=
ew
South Wales,
and recognized Sydney as the capital; but =
in
1851, she was
declared independent, and took the name of
Victoria."
"And has greatly increased in prosper=
ity
since then,
I believe," said Glenarvan.
"Judge for yourself, my noble
friend," replied Paganel.
"Here are
the numbers given by the last statistics; =
and
let McNabbs say as he likes,
I know nothing more eloquent than
statistics."
"Go on," said the Major.
"Well, then, in 1836, the colony of P=
ort
Phillip had 224 inhabitants.
To-day the province of Victoria numbers
550,000. Seven
millions of vines produce annually 121,- 0=
00
gallons of wine.
There are 103,000 horses spreading over the
plains, and 675,272
horned cattle graze in her wide-stretching
pastures."
"Is there not also a certain number of
pigs?" inquired McNabbs.
"Yes, Major, 79,625."
"And how many sheep?"
"7,115,943, McNabbs."
"Including the one we are eating at t=
his
moment."
"No, without counting that, since it =
is
three parts devoured."
"Bravo, Monsieur Paganel," excla=
imed
Lady Helena, laughing heartily.
"It must be owned you are posted up in
geographical questions,
and my cousin McNabbs need not try and find
you tripping."
"It is my calling, Madam, to know this
sort of thing,
and to give you the benefit of my informat=
ion
when you please.
You may therefore believe me when I tell y=
ou
that wonderful
things are in store for you in this strange
country."
"It does not look like it at
present," said McNabbs, on purpose
to tease Paganel.
"Just wait, impatient Major," was
his rejoinder. "You have
hardly
put your foot on the frontier, when you tu=
rn
round and abuse it.
Well, I say and say again, and will always
maintain that this is
the most curious country on the earth. Its formation, and nature,
and products, and climate, and even its fu=
ture
disappearance
have amazed, and are now amazing, and will
amaze, all the SAVANTS
in the world. Think, my friends, of a continent,=
the
margin
of which, instead of the center, rose out =
of
the waves originally
like a gigantic ring, which encloses, perh=
aps,
in its center,
a sea partly evaporated, the waves of which
are drying up daily;
where humidity does not exist either in the
air or in the soil;
where the trees lose their bark every year,
instead of their leaves;
where the leaves present their sides to the
sun and not their face,
and consequently give no shade; where the =
wood
is often incombustible,
where good-sized stones are dissolved by t=
he
rain; where the forests
are low and the grasses gigantic; where the
animals are strange;
where quadrupeds have beaks, like the echi=
dna,
or ornithorhynchus,
and naturalists have been obliged to creat=
e a
special order for them,
called monotremes; where the kangaroos lea=
p on
unequal legs,
and sheep have pigs' heads; where foxes fly
about from tree to tree;
where the swans are black; where rats make
nests; where the bower-bird
opens her reception-rooms to receive visits
from her feathered friends;
where the birds astonish the imagination by
the variety of their notes
and their aptness; where one bird serves f=
or a
clock, and another
makes a sound like a postilion cracking of=
a
whip, and a third
imitates a knife-grinder, and a fourth the
motion of a pendulum;
where one laughs when the sun rises, and
another cries when the sun sets!
Oh, strange, illogical country, land of
paradoxes and anomalies,
if ever there was one on earth--the learned
botanist Grimard was
right when he said, 'There is that Austral=
ia,
a sort of parody,
or rather a defiance of universal laws in =
the
face of the rest
of the world.'"
Paganel's tirade was poured forth in the m=
ost
impetuous manner,
and seemed as if it were never coming to an
end.
The eloquent secretary of the Geographical
Society was no longer
master of himself. He went on and on, gesticulating
furiously,
and brandishing his fork to the imminent
danger of his neighbors.
But at last his voice was drowned in a thu=
nder
of applause,
and he managed to stop.
Certainly after such an enumeration of
Australian peculiarities, he might
have been left in peace but the Major said=
in
the coolest tone possible:
"And is that all, Paganel?"
"No, indeed not," rejoined the
Frenchman, with renewed vehemence.
"What!" exclaimed Lady Helena;
"there are more wonders
still in Australia?"
"Yes, Madam, its climate. It is even stranger than its
productions."
"Is it possible?" they all said.=
"I am not speaking of the hygienic
qualities of the climate,"
continued Paganel, "rich as it is in
oxygen and poor in azote.
There are no damp winds, because the trade
winds blow regularly on
the coasts, and most diseases are unknown,
from typhus to measles,
and chronic affections."
"Still, that is no small advantage,&q=
uot;
said Glenarvan.
"No doubt; but I am not referring to
that, but to one quality
it has which is incomparable."
"And what is that?"
"You will never believe me."
"Yes, we will," exclaimed his
auditors, their curiosity aroused
by this preamble.
"Well, it is--"
"It is what?"
"It is a moral regeneration."
"A moral regeneration?"
"Yes," replied the SAVANT, in a =
tone
of conviction. "Here met=
als do
not get rust on them by exposure to the ai=
r,
nor men. Here the pure,
dry atmosphere whitens everything rapidly,
both linen and souls.
The virtue of the climate must have been w=
ell
known in England when they
determined to send their criminals here to=
be
reformed."
"What! do you mean to say the climate=
has
really any such influence?"
said Lady Helena.
"Yes, Madam, both on animals and
men."
"You are not joking, Monsieur
Paganel?"
"I am not, Madam. The horses and the cattle here are=
of
incomparable docility. You see it?"
"It is impossible!"
"But it is a fact. And the convicts transported into =
this
reviving, salubrious air, become regenerat=
ed
in a few years.
Philanthropists know this. In Australia all natures grow
better."
"But what is to become of you then,
Monsieur Paganel,
in this privileged country--you who are so
good already?"
said Lady Helena. "What will you turn out?"=
;
"Excellent, Madam, just excellent, and
that's all."
THE next day, the 24th of December, they
started at daybreak.
The heat was already considerable, but not
unbearable, and the road
was smooth and good, and allowed the caval=
cade
to make speedy progress.
In the evening they camped on the banks of=
the
of which are brackish and undrinkable.
Jacques Paganel was obliged to own that the
name of this
lake was a complete misnomer, for the wate=
rs
were no more
white than the Black Sea is black, or the =
Red
Sea red,
or the Yellow River yellow, or the Blue
Mountains blue.
However, he argued and disputed the point =
with
all the amour
propre of a geographer, but his reasoning =
made
no impression.
M. Olbinett prepared the evening meal with=
his
accustomed punctuality,
and after this was dispatched, the travele=
rs
disposed themselves
for the night in the wagon and in the tent,
and were soon sleeping
soundly, notwithstanding the melancholy
howling of the "dingoes,"
the jackals of Australia.
A magnificent plain, thickly covered with
chrysanthemums, stretched out
beyond the lake, and Glenarvan and his fri=
ends
would gladly have explored
its beauties when they awoke next morning,=
but
they had to start. As far
as the eye could reach, nothing was visible
but one stretch of prairie,
enameled with flower, in all the freshness=
and
abundance of spring.
The blue flowers of the slender-leaved fla=
x,
combined with the bright
hues of the scarlet acanthus, a flower
peculiar to the country.
A few cassowaries were bounding over the
plain, but it was
impossible to get near them. The Major was fortunate enough,
however, to hit one very rare animal with a
ball in the leg.
This was the jabiru, a species which is fa=
st
disappearing,
the gigantic crane of the English
colonies. This winged
creature was five feet high, and his wide,
conical,
extremely pointed beak, measured eighteen
inches in length.
The violet and purple tints of his head
contrasted vividly
with the glossy green of his neck, and the
dazzling whiteness
of his throat, and the bright red of his l=
ong
legs.
Nature seems to have exhausted in its favor
all the primitive
colors on her palette.
Great admiration was bestowed on this bird,
and the Major's spoil
would have borne the honors of the day, ha=
d not
Robert come
across an animal a few miles further on, a=
nd
bravely killed it.
It was a shapeless creature, half porcupin=
e,
half ant-eater, a sort
of unfinished animal belonging to the first
stage of creation.
A long glutinous extensible tongue hung ou=
t of
his jaws in search
of the ants, which formed its principal fo=
od.
"It is an echidna," said
Paganel. "Have you ever =
seen
such a creature?"
"It is horrible," replied Glenar=
van.
"Horrible enough, but curious, and,
what's more, peculiar
to Australia. One might search for it in vain in=
any
other part
of the world."
Naturally enough, the geographer wished to
preserve this interesting
specimen of monotremata, and wanted to sto=
w it
away in the luggage;
but M. Olbinett resented the idea so
indignantly, that the SAVANT
was obliged to abandon his project.
About four o'clock in the afternoon, John
Mangles descried an enormous
column of smoke about three miles off,
gradually overspreading
the whole horizon. What could be the cause of this
phenomenon?
Paganel was inclined to think it was some
description of meteor,
and his lively imagination was already in
search of an explanation,
when Ayrton cut short all his conjectures
summarily, by announcing
that the cloud of dust was caused by a dro=
ve
of cattle on the road.
The quartermaster proved right, for as the
cloud came nearer,
quite a chorus of bleatings and neighings,=
and
bel-lowings
escaped from it, mingled with the loud ton=
es
of a human voice,
in the shape of cries, and whistles, and
vo-ciferations.
Presently a man came out of the cloud. This was the leader-in-chief
of the four-footed army. Glenarvan advanced toward him,
and friendly relations were speedily
established between them.
The leader, or to give him his proper
designation, the stock-keeper,
was part owner of the drove. His name was Sam Machell, and he w=
as
on his way from the eastern provinces to
Portland Bay.
The drove numbered 12,075 head in all, or
l,000 bullocks, 11,000 sheep,
and 75 horses. All these had been bought in the B=
lue
Mountains in a poor,
lean condition, and were going to be fatte=
d up
on the rich pasture
lands of Southern Australia, and sold agai=
n at
a great profit.
Sam Machell expected to get pounds 2 on ea=
ch
bullock, and 10s.
on every sheep, which would bring him in
pounds 3,750. This was doing
good business; but what patience and energy
were required to conduct
such a restive, stubborn lot to their
destination, and what fatigues
must have to be endured. Truly the gain was hardly earned.<= o:p>
Sam Machell told his history in a few word=
s, while
the drove
continued their march among the groves of
mimosas.
Lady Helena and Mary and the rest of the p=
arty
seated themselves
under the shade of a wide-spreading gum-tr=
ee,
and listened
to his recital.
It was seven months since Sam Machell had
started. He had gone
at the rate of ten miles a day, and his
interminable journey would
last three months longer. His assistants in the laborious ta=
sk
comprised twenty dogs and thirty men, five=
of
whom were blacks,
and very serviceable in tracking up any st=
rayed
beasts.
Six wagons made the rear-guard. All the men
were armed
with stockwhips, the handles of which are
eighteen inches long,
and the lash nine feet, and they move about
among the ranks,
bringing refractory animals back into orde=
r,
while the dogs,
the light cavalry of the regiment, preserv=
ed
discipline
in the wings.
The travelers were struck with the admirab=
le
arrangement
of the drove. The different stock were kept apar=
t, for
wild
sheep and bullocks would not have got on
together at all.
The bullocks would never have grazed where=
the
sheep had passed along,
and consequently they had to go first, div=
ided
into two battalions.
Five regiments of sheep followed, in charg=
e of
twenty men,
and last of all came the horses.
Sam Machell drew the attention of his audi=
tors
to the fact that
the real guides of the drove were neither =
the
men nor the dogs,
but the oxen themselves, beasts of superior
intelligence,
recognized as leaders by their
congenitors. They advanced in=
front with perfect gravity, choosing the b=
est route
by instinct,
and fully alive to their claim to
respect. Indeed, they were
obliged to be studied and humored in
everything, for the whole drove
obeyed them implicitly. If they took it into their heads to
stop,
it was a matter of necessity to yield to t=
heir
good pleasure,
for not a single animal would move a step =
till
these leaders gave
the signal to set off.
Sundry details, added by the stock-keeper,
completed the history
of this expedition, worthy of being writte=
n,
if not commended
by Xenophon himself. As long as the troop marched over =
the
plains
it was well enough, there was little
difficulty or fatigue.
The animals fed as they went along, and sl=
aked
their thirst at
the numerous creeks that watered the plain=
s,
sleeping at night
and making good progress in the day, always
obedient and tractable
to the dogs. But when they had to go through gr=
eat
forests
and groves of eucalyptus and mimosas, the
difficulties increased.
Platoons, battalions and regiments got all
mixed together
or scattered, and it was a work of time to
collect them again.
Should a "leader" unfortunately =
go
astray, he had to be found,
cost what it might, on pain of a general
disbandment,
and the blacks were often long days in que=
st
of him, before their
search was successful. During the heavy rains the lazy be=
asts
refused to stir, and when violent storms
chanced to occur,
the creatures became almost mad with terro=
r,
and were seized
with a wild, disorderly panic.
However, by dint of energy and ambition, t=
he
stock-keeper triumphed
over these difficulties, incessantly renew=
ed
though they were.
He kept steadily on; mile after mile of pl=
ains
and woods,
and mountains, lay behind. But in addition to all his other
qualities,
there was one higher than all that he
specially needed when they
came to rivers. This was patience--patience that c=
ould
stand
any trial, and not only could hold out for
hours and days,
but for weeks. The stock-keeper would be himself =
forced
to wait
on the banks of a stream that might have b=
een
crossed at once.
There was nothing to hinder but the obstin=
acy
of the herd.
The bullocks would taste the water and turn
back. The sheep
fled in all directions, afraid to brave the
liquid element.
The stock-keeper hoped when night came he
might manage them better,
but they still refused to go forward. The rams were dragged in by force,=
but the sheep would not follow. They tried what thirst would do,
by keeping them without drink for several
days, but when they
were brought to the river again, they simp=
ly
quenched their thirst,
and declined a more intimate acquaintance =
with
the water.
The next expedient employed was to carry a=
ll
the lambs over,
hoping the mothers would be drawn after th=
em,
moved by their cries.
But the lambs might bleat as pitifully as =
they
liked,
the mothers never stirred. Sometimes this state of affairs
would last a whole month, and the stock-ke=
eper
would be driven
to his wits' end by his bleating, bellowin=
g,
neighing army.
Then all of a sudden, one fine day, without
rhyme or reason,
a detachment would take it into their head=
s to
make a start across,
and the only difficulty now was to keep th=
e
whole herd from rushing
helter-skelter after them. The wildest confusion set in among=
the ranks, and numbers of the animals were
drowned in the passage.
Such was the narrative of Sam Machell. During its recital,
a considerable part of the troop had filed
past in good order.
It was time for him to return to his place=
at
their head,
that he might be able to choose the best
pasturage.
Taking leave of Lord Glenarvan, he sprang =
on a
capital horse
of the native breed, that one of his men h=
eld
waiting for him,
and after shaking hands cordially with
everybody all round,
took his departure. A few minutes later, nothing was v=
isible
of the stock-keeper and his troop but a cl=
oud
of dust.
The wagon resumed its course in the opposi=
te
direction,
and did not stop again till they halted for
the night at the foot
of Mount Talbot.
Paganel made the judicious observation tha=
t it
was the 25th
of December, the Christmas Day so dear to
English hearts.
But the steward had not forgotten it, and =
an
appetizing meal was
soon ready under the tent, for which he
deserved and received warm
compliments from the guests. Indeed, M. Olbinett had quite exce=
lled
himself on this occasion. He produced from his stores such an
array
of European dishes as is seldom seen in the
Australian desert.
Reindeer hams, slices of salt beef, smoked
salmon, oat cakes,
and barley meal scones; tea ad libitum, and
whisky in abundance,
and several bottles of port, composed this
astonishing meal.
The little party might have thought themse=
lves
in the grand dining-hall
of Malcolm Castle, in the heart of the
Highlands of Scotland.
The next day, at 11 A. M., the wagon reach=
ed
the banks of the Wimerra
on the 143d meridian.
The river, half a mile in width, wound its
limpid course between
tall rows of gum-trees and acacias. Magnificent specimens
of the MYRTACEA, among others, the
metroside-ros speciosa,
fifteen feet high, with long drooping
branches, adorned with
red flowers. Thousands of birds, the lories, and
greenfinches,
and gold-winged pigeons, not to speak of t=
he
noisy paroquets,
flew about in the green branches. Below, on the bosom of
the water, were a couple of shy and
unapproachable black swans.
This rara avis of the Australian rivers so=
on
disappeared
among the windings of the Wimerra, which w=
ater
the charming
landscape in the most capricious manner.
The wagon stopped on a grassy bank, the lo=
ng
fringes of which dipped
in the rapid current. There was neither raft nor bridge,=
but
cross
over they must. Ayrton looked about for a practica=
ble
ford.
About a quarter of a mile up the water see=
med
shallower,
and it was here they determined to try to =
pass
over.
The soundings in different parts showed a
depth of three feet only,
so that the wagon might safely enough vent=
ure.
"I suppose there is no other way of
fording the river?"
said Glenarvan to the quartermaster.
"No, my Lord; but the passage does not
seem dangerous.
We shall manage it."
"Shall Lady Glenarvan and Miss Grant =
get
out of the wagon?"
"Not at all. My bullocks are surefooted, and yo=
u may
rely on me
for keeping them straight."
"Very well, Ayrton; I can trust
you."
The horsemen surrounded the ponderous vehi=
cle,
and all stepped boldly
into the current. Generally, when wagons have to ford
rivers,
they have empty casks slung all round them=
, to
keep them floating
on the water; but they had no such swimming
belt with them
on this occasion, and they could only depe=
nd
on the sagacity
of the animals and the prudence of Ayrton,=
who
directed the team.
The Major and the two sailors were some fe=
et
in advance.
Glenarvan and John Mangles went at the sid=
es
of the wagon,
ready to lend any assistance the fair
travelers might require,
and Paganel and Robert brought up the rear=
.
All went well till they reached the middle=
of
the Wimerra,
but then the hollow deepened, and the water
rose to the middle
of the wheels. The bullocks were in danger of los=
ing
their footing, and dragging with them the
oscillating vehicle.
Ayrton devoted himself to his task
courageously.
He jumped into the water, and hanging on by
the bullocks'
horns, dragged them back into the right
course.
Suddenly the wagon made a jolt that it was
impossible to prevent;
a crack was heard, and the vehicle began to
lean over in a most
precarious manner. The water now rose to the ladies' =
feet;
the whole
concern began to float, though John Mangles
and Lord Glenarvan hung
on to the side. It was an anxious moment.
Fortunately a vigorous effort drove the wa=
gon
toward the opposite shore,
and the bank began to slope upward, so that
the horses and bullocks
were able to regain their footing, and soon
the whole party found
themselves on the other side, glad enough,
though wet enough too.
The fore part of the wagon, however, was
broken by the jolt,
and Glenarvan's horse had lost a shoe.
This was an accident that needed to be
promptly repaired.
They looked at each other hardly knowing w=
hat
to do, till Ayrton
proposed he should go to Black Point Stati=
on,
twenty miles
further north, and bring back a blacksmith
with him.
"Yes, go, my good fellow," said
Glenarvan. "How long wil=
l it
take you to get there and back?"
"About fifteen hours," replied
Ayrton, "but not longer."
"Start at once, then, and we will camp
here, on the banks of the Wimerra,
till you return."
IT was not without apprehension that the M=
ajor
saw Ayrton
quit the Wimerra camp to go and look for a
blacksmith
at the Black Point Station. But he did not breathe a word
of his private misgivings, and contented
himself with watching
the neighborhood of the river; nothing
disturbed the repose
of those tranquil glades, and after a short
night the sun
reappeared on the horizon.
As to Glenarvan, his only fear was lest Ay=
rton
should return alone.
If they fail to find a workman, the wagon
could not resume the journey.
This might end in a delay of many days, and
Glenarvan, impatient to
succeed, could brook no delay, in his
eagerness to attain his object.
Ayrton luckily had lost neither his time n=
or
his trouble.
He appeared next morning at daybreak,
accompanied by a man who gave
himself out as the blacksmith from BlackPo=
int
Station. He was
a powerful fellow, and tall, but his featu=
res
were of a low,
brutal type, which did not prepossess anyo=
ne
in his favor.
But that was nothing, provided he knew his
business.
He scarcely spoke, and certainly he did not
waste his breath
in useless words.
"Is he a good workman?" said John
Mangles to the quartermaster.
"I know no more about him than you do,
captain," said Ayrton.
"But we shall see."
The blacksmith set to work. Evidently that was his trade, as t=
hey
could plainly see from the way he set about
repairing the forepart
of the wagon. He worked skilfully and with uncom=
mon
energy.
The Major observed that the flesh of his w=
rists
was deeply furrowed,
showing a ring of extravasated blood. It was the mark of a recent injury=
,
which the sleeve of an old woolen shirt co=
uld
not conceal.
McNabbs questioned the blacksmith about th=
ose
sores which looked
so painful. The man continued his work without
answering.
Two hours more and the damage the carriage=
had
sustained was
made good. As to Glenarvan's horse, it was so=
on
disposed of.
The blacksmith had had the forethought to
bring the shoes with him.
These shoes had a peculiarity which did not
escape the Major;
it was a trefoil clumsily cut on the back
part. McNabbs pointed
it out to Ayrton.
"It is the Black-Point brand," s=
aid
the quartermaster.
"That enables them to track any horses
that may stray from
the station, and prevents their being mixed
with other herds."
The horse was soon shod. The blacksmith claimed his wage,
and went off without uttering four words.<= o:p>
Half an hour later, the travelers were on =
the
road.
Beyond the grove of mimosas was a stretch =
of
sparsely
timbered country, which quite deserved its
name of "open plain."
Some fragments of quartz and ferruginous r=
ock
lay among the scrub
and the tall grass, where numerous flocks =
were
feeding.
Some miles farther the wheels of the wagon
plowed deep into
the alluvial soil, where irregular creeks
murmured in their beds,
half hidden among giant reeds. By-and-by they skirted vast
salt lakes, rapidly evaporating. The journey was accomplished
without trouble, and, indeed, without fati=
gue.
Lady Helena invited the horsemen of the pa=
rty
to pay her a visit in turns,
as her reception-room was but small, and in
pleasant converse with this
amiable woman they forgot the fatigue of t=
heir
day's ride.
Lady Helena, seconded by Miss Mary, did the
honors of their
ambulatory house with perfect grace. John Mangles was not
forgotten in these daily invitations, and =
his
somewhat serious
conversation was not unpleasing.
The party crossed, in a diagonal direction,
the mail-coach
road from Crowland to Horsham, which was a
very dusty one,
and little used by pedestrians.
The spurs of some low hills were skirted at
the boundary of Talbot County,
and in the evening the travelers reached a
point about three miles
from Maryborough. The fine rain was falling, which, =
in any
other country,
would have soaked the ground; but here the=
air
absorbed the moisture
so wonderfully that the camp did not suffe=
r in
the least.
Next day, the 29th of December, the march =
was
delayed somewhat by a
succession of little hills, resembling a
miniature Switzerland. It was=
a constant repetition of up and down hill,=
and
many a jolt besides,
all of which were scarcely pleasant. The travelers walked part
of the way, and thought it no hardship.
At eleven o'clock they arrived at Carisbro=
ok,
rather an
important municipality. Ayrton was for passing outside the=
town
without going through it, in order, he sai=
d,
to save time.
Glenarvan concurred with him, but Paganel,
always eager
for novelties, was for visiting
Carisbrook. They gave him his=
way,
and the wagon went on slowly.
Paganel, as was his custom, took Robert wi=
th
him. His visit
to the town was very short, but it suffice=
d to
give him an exact
idea of Australian towns. There was a bank, a court-house,
a market, a church, and a hundred or so of
brick houses,
all exactly alike. The whole town was laid out in squ=
ares,
crossed with parallel streets in the Engli=
sh
fashion.
Nothing could be more simple, nothing less
attractive.
As the town grows, they lengthen the stree=
ts
as we lengthen
the trousers of a growing child, and thus =
the
original
symmetry is undisturbed.
Carisbrook was full of activity, a remarka=
ble
feature in these towns
of yesterday. It seems in Australia as if towns =
shot
up like trees,
owing to the heat of the sun. Men of business were hurrying alon=
g
the streets; gold buyers were hastening to
meet the in-coming escort;
the precious metal, guarded by the local
police, was coming from
the mines at Bendigo and Mount Alexander.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> All the little world was
so absorbed in its own interests, that the
strangers passed unobserved
amid the laborious inhabitants.
After an hour devoted to visiting Carisbro=
ok,
the two visitors
rejoined their companions, and crossed a
highly cultivated district.
Long stretches of prairie, known as the
"Low Level Plains,"
next met their gaze, dotted with countless
sheep, and shepherds' huts.
And then came a sandy tract, without any
transition, but with
the abruptness of change so characteristic=
of
Australian scenery.
Mount Simpson and Mount Terrengower marked=
the
southern point
where the boundary of the Loddon district =
cuts
the 144th meridian.
As yet they had not met with any of the
aboriginal tribes living
in the savage state. Glenarvan wondered if the Australi=
ans
were wanting in Australia, as the Indians =
had
been wanting in
the Pampas of the Argentine district; but
Paganel told him that,
in that latitude, the natives frequented
chiefly the Murray Plains,
about one hundred miles to the eastward.
"We are now approaching the gold
district," said he,
"in a day or two we shall cross the r=
ich
region of
Mount Alexander. It was here that the swarm of digg=
ers
alighted in 1852; the natives had to fly to
the interior.
We are in civilized districts without seei=
ng
any sign of it;
but our road will, before the day is over,
cross the railway
which connects the Murray with the sea.
a railway in Australia does seem to me an
astonishing thing!"
"And pray, why, Paganel?" said
Glenarvan.
"Why? because it jars on one's
ideas. Oh! I know you English are so used
to colonizing distant possessions. You, who have electric telegraphs =
and
universal exhibitions in New Zealand, you
think it is all quite natural.
But it dumb-founders the mind of a Frenchm=
an
like myself, and confuses
all one's notions of Australia!"
"Because you look at the past, and no=
t at
the present,"
said John Mangles.
A loud whistle interrupted the
discussion. The party were
within a mile of the railway. Quite a number of persons
were hastening toward the railway bridge.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The people from
the neighboring stations left their houses,
and the shepherds
their flocks, and crowded the approaches to
the railway.
Every now and then there was a shout,
"The railway! the railway!"
Something serious must have occurred to
produce such an agitation.
Perhaps some terrible accident.
Glenarvan, followed by the rest, urged on =
his
horse.
In a few minutes he arrived at Camden Brid=
ge
and then he became
aware of the cause of such an excitement.<= o:p>
A fearful accident had occurred; not a
collision, but a train
had gone off the line, and then there had =
been
a fall.
The affair recalled the worst disasters of
American railways.
The river crossed by the railway was full =
of
broken carriages
and the engine. Whether the weight of the train ha=
d been
too much
for the bridge, or whether the train had g=
one
off the rails,
the fact remained that five carriages out =
of
six fell into the bed
of the Loddon, dragged down by the
locomotive. The sixth carriag=
e,
miraculously preserved by the breaking of =
the
coupling chain,
remained on the rails, six feet from the
abyss. Below nothing was
discernible but a melancholy heap of twist=
ed
and blackened axles,
shattered wagons, bent rails, charred
sleepers; the boiler,
burst by the shock, had scattered its plat=
es
to enormous distances.
From this shapeless mass of ruins flames a=
nd
black smoke still rose.
After the fearful fall came fire, more fea=
rful
still!
Great tracks of blood, scattered limbs,
charred trunks of bodies,
showed here and there; none could guess how
many victims lay dead
and mangled under those ruins.
Glenarvan, Paganel, the Major, Mangles, mi=
xing
with the crowd,
heard the current talk. Everyone tried to account for the
accident,
while doing his utmost to save what could =
be
saved.
"The bridge must have broken," s=
aid
one.
"Not a bit of it. The bridge is whole enough; they m=
ust
have forgotten to close it to let the train
pass.
That is all."
It was, in fact, a swing bridge, which ope=
ned
for the convenience
of the boats. Had the guard, by an unpardonable
oversight,
omitted to close it for the passage of the
train, so that the train,
coming on at full speed, was precipitated =
into
the Loddon?
This hypothesis seemed very admissible; for
although one-half
of the bridge lay beneath the ruins of the
train, the other half,
drawn up to the opposite shore, hung, still
unharmed, by its chains.
No one could doubt that an oversight on the
part of the guard
had caused the catastrophe.
The accident had occurred in the night, to=
the
express train
which left Melbourne at 11:45 in the
evening. About a quarter past=
three in the morning, twenty-five minutes
after leaving Castlemaine,
it arrived at Camden Bridge, where the
terrible disaster befell.
The passengers and guards of the last and =
only
remaining
carriage at once tried to obtain help. But the telegraph,
whose posts were lying on the ground, could
not be worked.
It was three hours before the authorities =
from
Castlemaine reached
the scene of the accident, and it was six
o'clock in the morning when
the salvage party was organized, under the
direction of Mr. Mitchell,
the surveyor-general of the colony, and a
detachment of police,
commanded by an inspector. The squatters and their
"hands" lent
their aid, and directed their efforts firs=
t to
extinguishing the fire
which raged in the ruined heap with
unconquerable violence.
A few unrecognizable bodies lay on the slo=
pe
of the embankment,
but from that blazing mass no living thing
could be saved.
The fire had done its work too speedily. Of the passengers ten
only survived--those in the last
carriage. The railway authori=
ties
sent a locomotive to bring them back to
Castlemaine.
Lord Glenarvan, having introduced himself =
to
the surveyor-general,
entered into conversation with him and the
inspector of police.
The latter was a tall, thin man,
im-perturbably cool, and, whatever he
may have felt, allowed no trace of it to
appear on his features.
He contemplated this calamity as a
mathematician does a problem;
he was seeking to solve it, and to find the
unknown; and when
Glenarvan observed, "This is a great
misfortune," he quietly replied,
"Better than that, my Lord."
"Better than that?" cried
Glenarvan. "I do not
understand you."
"It is better than a misfortune, it i=
s a
crime!" he replied,
in the same quiet tone.
Glenarvan looked inquiringly at Mr. Mitche=
ll
for a solution.
"Yes, my Lord," replied the surv=
eyor-general,
"our inquiries
have resulted in the conclusion that the
catastrophe is the result
of a crime. The last luggage-van has been
robbed. The surviving
passengers were attacked by a gang of five=
or
six villains.
The bridge was intentionally opened, and n=
ot
left open
by the negligence of the guard; and connec=
ting
with this fact
the guard's disappearance, we may conclude
that the wretched
fellow was an accomplice of these
ruffians."
The police-officer shook his head at this
inference.
"You do not agree with me?" said=
Mr.
Mitchell.
"No, not as to the complicity of the
guard."
"Well, but granting that complicity, =
we
may attribute the crime
to the natives who haunt the Murray. Without him the blacks
could never have opened a swing-bridge; th=
ey
know nothing
of its mechanism."
"Exactly so," said the
police-inspector.
"Well," added Mr. Mitchell, &quo=
t;we
have the evidence of a boatman
whose boat passed Camden Bridge at 10:40 P.
M., that the bridge
was properly shut after he passed."
"True."
"Well, after that I cannot see any do=
ubt
as to the complicity
of the guard."
The police-officer shook his head gently, =
but
continuously.
"Then you don't attribute the crime to
the natives?"
"Not at all."
"To whom then?"
Just at this moment a noise was heard from=
about
half a mile up
the river. A crowd had gathered, and quickly
increased. They soon
reached the station, and in their midst we=
re
two men carrying a corpse.
It was the body of the guard, quite cold,
stabbed to the heart.
The murderers had no doubt hoped, by dragg=
ing
their victim to a distance,
that the police would be put on a wrong sc=
ent
in their first inquiries.
This discovery, at any rate, justified the
doubts of the police-inspector.
The poor blacks had had no hand in the mat=
ter.
"Those who dealt that blow," said
he, "were already well used to this
little instrument"; and so saying he
produced a pair of "darbies,"
a kind of handcuff made of a double ring of
iron secured by a lock.
"I shall soon have the pleasure of
presenting them with these bracelets
as a New Year's gift."
"Then you suspect--"
"Some folks who came out free in Her
Majesty's ships."
"What! convicts?" cried Paganel,=
who
recognized the formula employed
in the Australian colonies.
"I thought," said Glenarvan,
"convicts had no right in the
province of Victoria."
"Bah!" said the inspector, "=
;if
they have no right, they take it!
They escape sometimes, and, if I am not
greatly mistaken,
this lot have come straight from Perth, an=
d,
take my word for it,
they will soon be there again."
Mr. Mitchell nodded acquiescence in the wo=
rds
of the police-inspector.
At this moment the wagon arrived at the le=
vel
crossing of the railway.
Glenarvan wished to spare the ladies the
horrible spectacle at
Camden Bridge. He took courteous leave of the sur=
veyor-general,
and made a sign to the rest to follow
him. "There is no
reason,"
said he, "for delaying our journey.&q=
uot;
When they reached the wagon, Glenarvan mer=
ely
mentioned to Lady Helena
that there had been a railway accident,
without a hint of the crime
that had played so great a part in it; nei=
ther
did he make mention
of the presence of a band of convicts in t=
he
neighborhood,
reserving that piece of information solely=
for
Ayrton's ear.
The little procession now crossed the rail=
way
some two hundred
yards below the bridge, and then resumed t=
heir
eastward course.
ABOUT two miles from the railway, the plain
terminated in a range
of low hills, and it was not long before t=
he
wagon entered a succession
of narrow gorges and capricious windings, =
out
of which it emerged into
a most charming region, where grand trees,=
not
closely planted, but in
scattered groups, were growing with absolu=
tely
tropical luxuriance.
As the party drove on they stumbled upon a
little native boy
lying fast asleep beneath the shade of a
magnificent banksia.
He was dressed in European garb, and seemed
about eight years of age.
There was no mistaking the characteristic
features of his race;
the crisped hair, the nearly black skin, t=
he
flattened nose,
the thick lips, the unusual length of the
arms, immediately classed him
among the aborigines of the interior. But a degree of intelligence
appeared in his face that showed some
educational influences must
have been at work on his savage, untamed
nature.
Lady Helena, whose interest was greatly
excited by this spectacle,
got out of the wagon, followed by Mary, and
presently the whole
company surrounded the peaceful little
sleeper. "Poor child!&qu=
ot;
said Mary Grant. "Is he lost, I wonder, in this
desert?"
"I suppose," said Lady Helena,
"he has come a long way to visit
this part. No doubt some he loves are here.&q=
uot;
"But he can't be left here," add=
ed
Robert. "We must--"=
His compassionate sentence remained
unfinished, for, just at that
moment the child turned over in his sleep,
and, to the extreme
surprise of everybody, there was a large l=
abel
on his shoulders,
on which the following was written:
=
TOLINE.
=
To be conducted to Echuca.
Care=
of
Jeffries Smith, Railway Porter.
=
Prepaid.
"That's the English all over!"
exclaimed Paganel. "They=
send
off
a child just as they would luggage, and bo=
ok
him like a parcel.
I heard it was done, certainly; but I could
not believe it before."
"Poor child!" said Lady Helena.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "Could he have been in the tr=
ain
that got off the line at Camden Bridge?
and he is left alone in the world!"
"I don't think so, madam," repli=
ed
John Mangles. "That card
rather
goes to prove he was traveling alone."=
;
"He is waking up!" said Mary.
And so he was. His eyes slowly opened and then cl=
osed
again,
pained by the glare of light. But Lady Helena took his hand,
and he jumped up at once and looked about =
him
in bewilderment
at the sight of so many strangers. He seemed half frightened
at first, but the presence of Lady Helena
reassured him.
"Do you understand English, my little
man?" asked the young lady.
"I understand it and speak it,"
replied the child in fluent
enough English, but with a marked accent.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> His pronunciation
was like a Frenchman's.
"What is your name?" asked Lady
Helena.
"Toline," replied the little nat=
ive.
"Toline!" exclaimed Paganel. "Ah! I think that means 'bark
of a tree' in Australian."
Toline nodded, and looked again at the
travelers.
"Where do you come from?" inquir=
ed
Lady Helena.
"From Melbourne, by the railway from
Sandhurst."
"Were you in the accident at Camden
Bridge?" said Glenarvan.
"Yes, sir," was Toline's reply;
"but the God of the Bible protected me."
"Are you traveling alone?"
"Yes, alone; the Reverend Paxton put =
me
in charge of Jeffries Smith;
but unfortunately the poor man was
killed."
"And you did not know any one else on=
the
train?"
"No one, madam; but God watches over
children and never forsakes them."
Toline said this in soft, quiet tones, whi=
ch
went to the heart.
When he mentioned the name of God his voice
was grave and his eyes
beamed with all the fervor that animated h=
is
young soul.
This religious enthusiasm at so tender an =
age
was easily explained.
The child was one of the aborigines baptiz=
ed
by the English missionaries,
and trained by them in all the rigid
principles of the Methodist Church.
His calm replies, proper behavior, and even
his somber garb made him
look like a little reverend already.
But where was he going all alone in these
solitudes and why had he left
Camden Bridge? Lady Helena asked him about this.<= o:p>
"I was returning to my tribe in the
Lachlan," he replied.
"I wished to see my family again.&quo=
t;
"Are they Australians?" inquired
John Mangles.
"Yes, Australians of the Lachlan,&quo=
t;
replied Toline.
"Have you a father and mother?" =
said
Robert Grant.
"Yes, my brother," replied Tolin=
e,
holding out his hand
to little Grant. Robert was so touched by the word
brother
that he kissed the black child, and they w=
ere
friends forthwith.
The whole party were so interested in these
replies of the little
Australian savage that they all sat round =
him
in a listening group.
But the sun had meantime sunk behind the t=
all
trees,
and as a few miles would not greatly retar=
d their
progress,
and the spot they were in would be suitable
for a halt,
Glenarvan gave orders to prepare their camp
for the night at once.
Ayrton unfastened the bullocks and turned =
them
out to feed at will.
The tent was pitched, and Olbinett got the
supper ready.
Toline consented, after some difficulty, to
share it,
though he was hungry enough. He took his seat beside Robert,
who chose out all the titbits for his new
friend.
Toline accepted them with a shy grace that=
was
very charming.
The conversation with him, however, was st=
ill
kept up,
for everyone felt an interest in the child,
and wanted
to talk to him and hear his history. It was simple enough.
He was one of the poor native children
confided to the care
of charitable societies by the neighboring=
tribes.
The Australian aborigines are gentle and
inoffensive,
never exhibiting the fierce hatred toward
their conquerors
which characterizes the New Zealanders, and
possibly a few
of the races of Northern Australia. They often go to the
large towns, such as Adelaide, Sydney and
Melbourne, and walk
about in very primitive costume. They go to barter their few
articles of industry, hunting and fishing
implements, weapons,
etc., and some of the chiefs, from pecunia=
ry
motives, no doubt,
willingly leave their children to profit by
the advantages
of a gratuitous education in English.
This was how Toline's parents had acted. They were true
Australian savages living in the Lachlan, a
vast region lying
beyond the Murray. The child had been in Melbourne fi=
ve
years,
and during that time had never once seen a=
ny
of his own people.
And yet the imperishable feeling of kindred
was still so strong
in his heart that he had dared to brave th=
is
journey over the wilds
to visit his tribe once more, scattered th=
ough
perchance it might be,
and his family, even should he find it
decimated.
"And after you have kissed your paren=
ts,
are you coming back
to Melbourne?" asked Lady Glenarvan.<= o:p>
"Yes, Madam," replied Toline,
looking at the lady with
a loving expression.
"And what are you going to be some
day?" she continued.
"I am going to snatch my brothers from
misery and ignorance.
I am going to teach them, to bring them to
know and love God. I am
going to be a missionary."
Words like those, spoken with such animati=
on
from a child of only
eight years, might have provoked a smile in
light, scoffing auditors,
but they were understood and appreciated by
the grave Scotch, who admired
the courage of this young disciple, already
armed for the battle.
Even Paganel was stirred to the depths of =
his
heart, and felt his warmer
sympathy awakened for the poor child.
To speak the truth, up to that moment he d=
id
not care much for a
savage in European attire. He had not come to Australia to se=
e
Australians in coats and trousers. He preferred them simply tattooed,=
and this conventional dress jarred on his
preconceived notions.
But the child's genuine religious fervor w=
on
him over completely.
Indeed, the wind-up of the conversation
converted the worthy
geographer into his best friend.
It was in reply to a question Lady Helena =
had
asked, that Toline
said he was studying at the Normal School =
in
Melbourne,
and that the principal was the Reverend Mr.
Paxton.
"And what do they teach you?" she
went on to say.
"They teach me the Bible, and
mathematics, and geography."
Paganel pricked up his ears at this, and s=
aid,
"Indeed, geography!"
"Yes, sir," said Toline; "a=
nd I
had the first prize for geography
before the Christmas holidays."
"You had the first prize for geograph=
y,
my boy?"
"Yes, sir. Here it is," returned Toline,
pulling a book out
of his pocket.
It was a bible, 32mo size, and well
bound. On the first page
was written the words: "Normal School, Melbourne.
for Geography. Toline of the Lachlan."
Paganel was beside himself. An Australian well versed in geogr=
aphy.
This was marvelous, and he could not help
kissing Toline on
both cheeks, just as if he had been the
Reverend Mr. Paxton
himself, on the day of the distribution of
prizes.
Paganel need not have been so amazed at th=
is
circumstance,
however, for it is frequent enough in
Australian schools.
The little savages are very quick in learn=
ing
geography.
They learn it eagerly, and on the other ha=
nd,
are perfectly
averse to the science of arithmetic.
Toline could not understand this outburst =
of
affection on the part
of the Frenchman, and looked so puzzled th=
at
Lady Helena thought
she had better inform him that Paganel was=
a
celebrated geographer
and a distinguished professor on occasion.=
"A professor of geography!" cried
Toline. "Oh, sir, do que=
stion
me!"
"Question you? Well, I'd like nothing better. Indeed, I was going
to do it without your leave. I should very much like to see how=
they
teach geography in the Normal School of
Melbourne."
"And suppose Toline trips you up,
Paganel!" said McNabbs.
"What a likely idea!" exclaimed =
the
geographer. "Trip up the
Secretary
of the Geographical Society of France.&quo=
t;
Their examination then commenced, after
Paganel had settled his
spectacles firmly on his nose, drawn himse=
lf
up to his full height,
and put on a solemn voice becoming to a
professor.
"Pupil Toline, stand up."
As Toline was already standing, he could n=
ot
get any higher,
but he waited modestly for the geographer's
questions.
"Pupil Toline, what are the five
divisions of the globe?"
"Oceanica, Asia, Africa, America, and
Europe."
"Perfectly so. Now we'll take Oceanica first; whe=
re are
we
at this moment? What are the principal divisions?&=
quot;
"Australia, belonging to the English;=
New
Zealand, belonging to
the English; Tasmania, belonging to the
English. The islands
of Chatham, Auckland, Macquarie, Kermadec,
Makin, Maraki, are also
belonging to the English."
"Very good, and New Caledonia, the
Sandwich Islands,
the Mendana, the Pomotou?"
"They are islands under the Protector=
ate
of Great Britain."
"What!" cried Paganel, "und=
er
the Protectorate of Great Britain.
I rather
think on the contrary, that France--"=
"France," said the child, with an
astonished look.
"Well, well," said Paganel; &quo=
t;is
that what they teach you
in the Melbourne Normal School?"
"Yes, sir. Isn't it right?"
"Oh, yes, yes, perfectly right. All Oceanica belongs to
the English. That's an understood thing. Go on."
Paganel's face betrayed both surprise and
annoyance, to the great
delight of the Major.
"Let us go on to Asia," said the
geographer.
"Asia," replied Toline, "is=
an
immense country.
Capital--Calcutta. Chief Towns--Bombay, Madras, Calic=
ut,
Aden,
Malacca, Singapore, Pegu, Colombo. The Lacca-dive Islands,
the Maldives, the Chagos, etc., belonging =
to
the English."
"Very good, pupil Toline. And now for Africa."
"Africa comprises two chief colonies-=
-the
Cape on the south,
capital Capetown; and on the west the Engl=
ish
settlements,
chief city, Sierra Leone."
"Capital!" said Paganel, beginni=
ng
to enter into this
perfectly taught but Anglo-colored fanciful
geography.
"As to Algeria, Morocco, Egypt--they =
are
all struck out of
the Britannic cities."
"Let us pass on, pray, to America.&qu=
ot;
"It is divided," said Toline,
promptly, "into North
and South America. The former belongs to the English<= o:p>
in Canada, New Brunswick, New Scotland, and
the United States,
under the government of President
Johnson."
"President Johnson," cried Pagan=
el,
"the successor of
the great and good Lincoln, assassinated b=
y a
mad fanatic
of the slave party. Capital; nothing could be better.<= o:p>
And as to South America, with its Guiana, =
its
archipelago of
South Shetland, its Georgia, Jamaica,
Trinidad, etc., that belongs
to the English, too! Well, I'll not be the one to dispu=
te
that point!
But, Toline, I should like to know your
opinion of Europe,
or rather your professor's."
"Europe?" said Toline not at all
understanding Paganel's excitement.
"Yes, Europe! Who does Europe belong to?"
"Why, to the English," replied
Toline, as if the fact was quite settled.
"I much doubt it," returned
Paganel. "But how's that,
Toline, for I
want to know that?"
"England, Ireland, Scotland, Malta,
Jersey and Guern-sey,
the Ionian Islands, the Hebrides, the
Shetlands, and the Orkneys."
"Yes, yes, my lad; but there are other
states you forgot to mention."
"What are they?" replied the chi=
ld,
not the least disconcerted.
"Spain, Russia, Austria, Prussia,
France," answered Paganel.
"They are provinces, not states,"
said Toline.
"Well, that beats all!" exclaimed
Paganel, tearing off his spectacles.
"Yes," continued the child. "Spain--capital, Gibraltar.&q=
uot;
"Admirable! perfect! sublime! And France, for I am French,
and I should like to know to whom I
belong."
"France," said Toline, quietly,
"is an English province;
chief city, Calais."
"Calais!" cried Paganel. "So you think Calais still be=
longs
to the English?"
"Certainly."
"And that it is the capital of
France?"
"Yes, sir; and it is there that the
Governor, Lord Napo-leon, lives."
This was too much for Paganel's risible
faculties.
He burst out laughing. Toline did not know what to make o=
f him.
He had done his best to answer every quest=
ion
put to him.
But the singularity of the answers were not
his blame; indeed, he never
imagined anything singular about them.
all quietly, and waited for the professor =
to
recover himself.
These peals of laughter were quite
incomprehensible to him.
"You see," said Major McNabbs,
laughing, "I was right.
The pupil could enlighten you after all.&q=
uot;
"Most assuredly, friend Major,"
replied the geographer. "=
;So
that's the
way they teach geography in Melbourne! They do it well, these professors<= o:p>
in the Normal School! Europe, Asia, Africa, America, Oce=
anica,
the whole
world belongs to the English. My conscience! with such an ingeni=
ous
education it is no wonder the natives
submit. Ah, well, Toline, my =
boy,
does the moon belong to England, too?"=
;
"She will, some day," replied the
young savage, gravely.
This was the climax. Paganel could not stand any more.<= o:p>
He was obliged to go away and take his lau=
gh
out, for he was
actually exploding with mirth, and he went
fully a quarter of a
mile from the encampment before his
equilibrium was restored.
Meanwhile, Glenarvan looked up a geography
they had brought among
their books. It was "Richardson's
Compendium," a work in great repute
in England, and more in agreement with mod=
ern
science than the manual
in use in the Normal School in Melbourne.<= o:p>
"Here, my child," he said to Tol=
ine,
"take this book and keep it.
You have a few wrong ideas about geography,
which it would be well
for you to rectify. I will give you this as a keepsake=
from
me."
Toline took the book silently; but, after
examining it attentively,
he shook his head with an air of increduli=
ty,
and could not even make
up his mind to put it in his pocket.
By this time night had closed in; it was 1=
0 P.
M. and time to think
of rest, if they were to start betimes next
day. Robert offered
his friend Toline half his bed, and the li=
ttle
fellow accepted it.
Lady Helena and Mary Grant withdrew to the
wagon, and the others lay
down in the tent, Paganel's merry peals st=
ill
mingling with the low,
sweet song of the wild magpie.
But in the morning at six o'clock, when the
sunshine wakened the sleepers,
they looked in vain for the little
Australian. Toline had disapp=
eared.
Was he in haste to get to the Lachlan
district? or was he hurt by
Paganel's laughter? No one could say.
But when Lady Helena opened her eyes she
discovered a fresh branch
of mimosa leaves lying across her, and Pag=
anel
found a book in his
vest pocket, which turned out to be
"Richardson's Geography."
ON the 2d of January, at sunrise, the
travelers forded the Colban and
the Caupespe rivers. The half of their journey was now
accomplished.
In fifteen days more, should their journey
continue to be prosperous,
the little party would reach
They were all in good health. All that Paganel said
of the hygienic qualities of the climate w=
as
realized.
There was little or no humidity, and the h=
eat
was quite bearable.
Neither horses nor bullocks could complain=
of
it any more than
human beings. The order of the march had been ch=
anged
in one respect
since the affair of Camden Bridge. That criminal catastrophe on
the railway made Ayrton take sundry
precautions, which had hitherto
been unnecessary. The hunters never lost sight of the
wagon,
and whenever they camped, one was always
placed on watch.
Morning and evening the firearms were prim=
ed
afresh.
It was certain that a gang of ruffians was
prowling about
the country, and though there was no cause=
for
actual fear,
it was well to be ready for whatever might
happen.
It need hardly be said these precautions w=
ere
adopted without
the knowledge of Lady Helena and Mary Gran=
t,
as Lord Glenarvan
did not wish to alarm them.
They were by no means unnecessary, however,
for any imprudence
or carelessness might have cost the travel=
ers
dear.
Others beside Glenarvan were on their guard. In lonely settlements<= o:p>
and on stations, the inhabitants and the s=
quatters
prepared carefully
against any attack or surprise. Houses are closed at nightfall;
the dogs let loose inside the fences, bark=
ed
at the slightest sound.
Not a single shepherd on horseback gathered
his numerous flocks
together at close of day, without having a
carbine slung
from his saddle.
The outrage at Camden Bridge was the reason
for all this,
and many a colonist fastened himself in wi=
th
bolts and bars
now at dusk, who used to sleep with open d=
oors
and windows.
The Government itself displayed zeal and
prudence, especially in
the Post-office department. On this very day, just as Glenarva=
n
and his party were on their way from Kilmo=
re
to Heathcote, the mail
dashed by at full speed; but though the ho=
rses
were at a gallop,
Glenarvan caught sight of the glittering
weapons of the mounted
police that rode by its side, as they swept
past in a cloud of dust.
The travelers might have fancied themselves
back in those lawless times
when the discovery of the first gold-fields
deluged the Australian
continent with the scum of Europe.
A mile beyond the road to Kilmore, the wag=
on,
for the first time
since leaving Cape Bernouilli, struck into=
one
of those forests
of gigantic trees which extend over a
super-fices of several degrees.
A cry of admiration escaped the travelers =
at
the sight of the eucalyptus
trees, two hundred feet high, with tough b=
ark
five inches thick.
The trunks, measuring twenty feet round, a=
nd
furrowed with foamy streaks
of an odorous resin, rose one hundred and
fifty feet above the soil.
Not a branch, not a twig, not a stray shoo=
t,
not even a knot,
spoilt the regularity of their outline.
out smoother from the hands of a turner. They stood like pillars
all molded exactly alike, and could be cou=
nted
by hundreds.
At an enormous height they spread out in
chaplets of branches,
rounded and adorned at their extremity with
alternate leaves.
At the axle of these leaves solitary flowe=
rs
drooped down,
the calyx of which resembles an inverted u=
rn.
Under this leafy dome, which never lost its
greenness, the air
circulated freely, and dried up the dampne=
ss
of the ground.
Horses, cattle, and wagon could easily pass
between the trees,
for they were standing in wide rows, and
parceled out like a wood
that was being felled. This was neither like the densely-=
packed
woods choked up with brambles, nor the vir=
gin
forest barricaded
with the trunks of fallen trees, and overg=
rown
with inextricable
tangles of creepers, where only iron and f=
ire
could open up a track.
A grassy carpet at the foot of the trees, =
and
a canopy of verdure above,
long perspectives of bold colors, little
shade, little freshness
at all, a peculiar light, as if the rays c=
ame
through a thin veil,
dappled lights and shades sharply reflecte=
d on
the ground, made up
a whole, and constituted a peculiar specta=
cle
rich in novel effects.
The forests of the Oceanic continent do no=
t in
the least
resemble the forests of the New World; and=
the
Eucalyptus,
the "Tara" of the aborigines,
belonging to the family of MYRTACEA,
the different varieties of which can hardl=
y be
enumerated,
is the tree par excellence of the Australi=
an
flora.
The reason of the shade not being deep, nor
the darkness profound,
under these domes of verdure, was that the=
se
trees presented a curious
anomaly in the disposition of the leaves.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Instead of presenting
their broad surface to the sunlight, only =
the
side is turned.
Only the profile of the leaves is seen in =
this
singular foliage.
Consequently the sun's rays slant down the=
m to
the earth,
as if through the open slants of a Venetian
blind.
Glenarvan expressed his surprise at this
circumstance, and wondered
what could be the cause of it. Paganel, who was never at a loss
for an answer, immediately replied:
"What astonishes me is not the capric=
e of
nature. She knows what she
is about, but botanists don't always know =
what
they are saying.
Nature made no mistake in giving this pecu=
liar
foliage to the tree,
but men have erred in calling them
EUCALYPTUS."
"What does the word mean?" asked
Mary Grant.
"It comes from a Greek word, meaning I
cover well. They took care
to commit the mistake in Greek, that it mi=
ght
not be so self-evident,
for anyone can see that the ecualyptus cov=
ers
badly."
"I agree with you there," said
Glenarvan; "but now tell us, Paganel,
how it is that the leaves grow in this
fashion?"
"From a purely physical cause,
friends," said Paganel, "and one
that you will easily understand. In this country where the air
is dry and rain seldom falls, and the grou=
nd
is parched, the trees
have no need of wind or sun. Moisture lacking, sap is lacking a=
lso.
Hence these narrow leaves, which seek to
defend themselves
against the light, and prevent too great
evaporation. This is why
they present the profile and not the face =
to
the sun's rays.
There is nothing more intelligent than a
leaf."
"And nothing more selfish," added
the Major. "These only t=
hought
of themselves, and not at all of
travelers."
Everyone inclined to the opinion of McNabbs
except Paganel,
who congratulated himself on walking under
shadeless trees,
though all the time he was wiping the
perspiration from his forehead.
However, this disposition of foliage was
certainly to be regretted,
for the journey through the forest was oft=
en
long and painful,
as the traveler had no protection whatever
against the sun's fierce rays.
The whole of this day the wagon continued =
to
roll along through
interminable rows of eucalyptus, without
meeting either quadruped
or native. A few cockatoos lived in the tops =
of the
trees,
but at such a height they could scarcely be
distinguished,
and their noisy chatter was changed into an
imperceptible murmur.
Occasionally a swarm of par-roquets flew a=
long
a distant path,
and lighted it up for an instant with gay
colors; but otherwise,
solemn silence reigned in this vast green
temple, and the tramp
of the horses, a few words exchanged with =
each
other by the riders,
the grinding noise of the wheels, and from
time to time a cry
from Ayrton to stir up his lazy team, were=
the
only sounds
which disturbed this immense solitude.
When night came they camped at the foot of
some eucalyptus,
which bore marks of a comparatively recent
fire. They looked like
tall factory chimneys, for the flame had
completely hollowed them
out their whole length. With the thick bark still covering=
them,
they looked none the worse. However, this bad habit of squatte=
rs
or natives will end in the destruction of
these magnificent trees,
and they will disappear like the cedars of
Lebanon, those world
monuments burnt by unlucky camp fires.
Olbinett, acting on Paganel's advice, ligh=
ted
his fire to
prepare supper in one of these tubular
trunks. He found it
drew capitally, and the smoke was lost in =
the
dark foliage above.
The requisite precautions were taken for t=
he
night,
and Ayrton, Mulrady, Wilson and John Mangl=
es
undertook in turn
to keep watch until sunrise.
On the 3d of January, all day long, they c=
ame
to nothing but the same
symmetrical avenues of trees; it seemed as=
if
they never were going
to end.&n=
bsp;
However, toward evening the ranks of trees began to thin,
and on a little plain a few miles off an
assemblage of regular houses.
"Seymour!" cried Paganel; "=
that
is the last town we come
to in the province of Victoria."
"Is it an important one?" asked =
Lady
Helena.
"It is a mere village, madam, but on =
the
way to become a municipality."
"Shall we find a respectable hotel
there?" asked Glenarvan.
"I hope so," replied Paganel.
"Very well; let us get on to the town,
for our fair travelers,
with all their courage, will not be sorry,=
I
fancy, to have
a good night's rest."
"My dear Edward, Mary and I will acce=
pt
it gladly, but only on
the condition that it will cause no delay,=
or
take us the least
out of the road."
"It will do neither," replied Lo=
rd
Glenarvan. "Besides, our
bullocks
are fatigued, and we will start to-morrow =
at daybreak."
It was now nine o'clock; the moon was just
beginning to rise,
but her rays were only slanting yet, and l=
ost
in the mist.
It was gradually getting dark when the lit=
tle
party entered the wide
streets of Seymour, under Paganel's guidan=
ce,
who seemed always
to know what he had never seen; but his
instinct led him right,
and he walked straight to Campbell's North
British Hotel.
The Major without even leaving the hotel, =
was
soon aware
that fear absorbed the inhabitants of the
little town.
Ten minutes' conversation with Dickson, the
loquacious landlord,
made him completely acquainted with the ac=
tual
state of affairs;
but he never breathed a word to any one.
When supper was over, though, and Lady
Glenarvan, and Mary,
and Robert had retired, the Major detained=
his
companions a little,
and said, "They have found out the
perpetrators of the crime
on the Sandhurst railroad."
"And are they arrested?" asked
Ayrton, eagerly.
"No," replied McNabbs, without
apparently noticing the EMPRESSMENT
of the quartermaster--an EMPRESSMENT which,
moreover, was reasonable
enough under the circumstances.
"So much the worse," replied Ayr=
ton.
"Well," said Glenarvan, "who
are the authors of the crime?"
"Read," replied the Major, offer=
ing
Glenarvan a copy of
the Australian and New Zealand Gazette,
"and you
will see that the inspector of the police =
was
not mistaken."
Glenarvan read aloud the following message=
:
SYDNEY, Jan. 2, 1866.
It will be remembered that on the night of=
the
29th or 30th
of last December there was an accident at
Camden Bridge,
five miles beyond the station at Castlemai=
ne,
on the railway
from Melbourne to Sandhurst. The night express, 11.45, dashing<= o:p>
along at full speed, was precipitated into=
the
Loddon River.
Camden Bridge had been left open. The numerous robberies committed
after the accident, the body of the guard
picked up about half a mile
from Camden Bridge, proved that this
catastrophe was the result
of a crime.
Indeed, the coroner's inquest decided that=
the
crime must
be attributed to the band of convicts which
escaped six
months ago from the Penitentiary at Perth,
Western Australia,
just as they were about to be transferred =
to
Norfolk Island.
The gang numbers twenty-nine men; they are
under the command
of a certain Ben Joyce, a criminal of the =
most
dangerous class,
who arrived in Australia a few months ago,=
by
what ship is not known,
and who has hitherto succeeded in evading =
the
hands of justice.
The inhabitants of towns, colonists and
squatters at stations,
are hereby cautioned to be on their guard,=
and
to communicate
to the Surveyor-General any information th=
at
may aid his search.
J. P. MITCHELL, S. G.
When Glenarvan had finished reading this
article, McNabbs turned
to the geographer and said, "You see,
Paganel, there can be
convicts in Australia."
"Escaped convicts, that is evident,&q=
uot;
replied Paganel, "but not regularly
transported criminals. Those fellows have no business
here."
"Well, they are here, at any rate,&qu=
ot;
said Glenarvan; "but I
don't suppose the fact need materially alt=
er
our arrangements.
What do you think, John?"
John Mangles did not reply immediately; he
hesitated between
the sorrow it would cause the two children=
to
give up the search,
and the fear of compromising the expeditio=
n.
"If Lady Glenarvan, and Miss Grant we=
re
not with us," he said,
"I should not give myself much concern
about these wretches."
Glenarvan understood him and added, "=
Of
course I need
not say that it is not a question of givin=
g up
our task;
but would it perhaps be prudent, for the s=
ake
of our companions,
to rejoin the DUNCAN at Melbourne, and pro=
ceed
with our
search for traces of Harry Grant on the
eastern side.
What do you think of it, McNabbs?"
"Before I give my opinion," repl=
ied
the Major, "I should like
to hear Ayrton's."
At this direct appeal, the quartermaster
looked at Glenarvan,
and said, "I think we are two hundred
miles from Melbourne,
and that the danger, if it exists, is as g=
reat
on the route to
the south as on the route to the east. Both are little frequented,
and both will serve us. Besides, I do not think that thirt=
y
scoundrels can frighten eight well-armed,
determined men.
My advice, then, is to go forward."
"And good advice too, Ayrton,"
replied Paganel. "By goi=
ng on
we
may come across the traces of Captain
Grant. In returning south,
on the contrary, we turn our backs to
them. I think with you,
then, and I don't care a snap for these
escaped fellows.
A brave man wouldn't care a bit for
them!"
Upon this they agreed with the one voice to
follow
their original programme.
"Just one thing, my Lord," said
Ayrton, when they were about to separate.
"Say on, Ayrton."
"Wouldn't it be advisable to send ord=
ers
to the DUNCAN to be
at the coast?"
"What good would that be," repli=
ed
John Mangles. "When we r=
each
Twofold Bay it will be time enough for
that. If any unexpected event=
should oblige us to go to Melbourne, we mi=
ght
be sorry not to find
the DUNCAN there. Besides, her injuries can not be
repaired yet.
For these reasons, then, I think it would =
be
better to wait."
"All right," said Ayrton, and
forbore to press the matter further.
ON January 6, at 7 A. M., after a tranquil
night passed in longitude
146 degrees 15", the travelers contin=
ued
their journey across
the vast district. They directed their course steadily
toward
the rising sun, and made a straight line
across the plain.
Twice over they came upon the traces of
squatters going toward
the north, and their different footprints
became confused,
and Glenarvan's horse no longer left on the
dust the Blackpoint mark,
recognizable by its double shamrock.
The plain was furrowed in some places by
fantastic winding creeks
surrounded by box, and whose waters were
rather temporary than permanent.
They originated in the slopes of the Buffa=
lo
Ranges, a chain of
mountains of moderate height, the undulati=
ng
line of which was visible
on the horizon. It was resolved to camp there the =
same
night.
Ayrton goaded on his team, and after a jou=
rney
of thirty-five miles,
the bullocks arrived, somewhat fatigued. The tent was pitched beneath
the great trees, and as night had drawn on
supper was served as quickly
as possible, for all the party cared more =
for
sleeping than eating,
after such a day's march.
Paganel who had the first watch did not lie
down, but shouldered
his rifle and walked up and down before the
camp, to keep himself
from going to sleep. In spite of the absence of the moo=
n, the
night
was almost luminous with the light of the
southern constellations.
The SAVANT amused himself with reading the
great book of the firmament,
a book which is always open, and full of
interest to those who can
read it.&=
nbsp;
The profound silence of sleeping nature was only interrupted
by the clanking of the hobbles on the hors=
es'
feet.
Paganel was engrossed in his astronomical
meditations, and thinking
more about the celestial than the terrestr=
ial
world, when a distant
sound aroused him from his reverie. He listened attentively,
and to his great amaze, fancied he heard t=
he
sounds of a piano.
He could not be mistaken, for he distinctly
heard chords struck.
"A piano in the wilds!" said Pag=
anel
to himself.
"I can never believe it is that."=
;
It certainly was very surprising, but Paga=
nel
found it easier
to believe it was some Australian bird
imitating the sounds
of a Pleyel or Erard, as others do the sou=
nds
of a clock or mill.
But at this very moment, the notes of a cl=
ear
ringing voice
rose on the air. The PIANIST was accompanied by sin=
ging.
Still Paganel was unwilling to be
convinced. However, next minu=
te
he was forced to admit the fact, for there
fell on his ear
the sublime strains of Mozart's "Il m=
io
tesoro tanto"
from Don Juan.
"Well, now," said the geographer=
to
himself, "let the Australian
birds be as queer as they may, and even
granting the paroquets
are the most musical in the world, they ca=
n't
sing Mozart!"
He listened to the sublime inspiration of =
the
great master to the end.
The effect of this soft melody on the still
clear night
was indescribable. Paganel remained as if spellbound =
for a
time;
the voice ceased and all was silence. When Wilson came to relieve
the watch, he found the geographer plunged
into a deep reverie.
Paganel made no remark, however, to the
sailor, but reserved
his information for Glenarvan in the morni=
ng,
and went into
the tent to bed.
Next day, they were all aroused from sleep=
by
the sudden
loud barking of dogs, Glenarvan got up
forthwith.
Two magnificent pointers, admirable specim=
ens
of English
hunting dogs, were bounding in front of the
little wood,
into which they had retreated at the appro=
ach
of the travelers,
redoubling their clamor.
"There is some station in this desert,
then," said Glenarvan,
"and hunters too, for these are regul=
ar
setters."
Paganel was just about to recount his
nocturnal experiences,
when two young men appeared, mounted on ho=
rses
of the most
perfect breed, true "hunters."
The two gentlemen dressed in elegant hunti=
ng
costume, stopped at
the sight of the little group camping in g=
ipsy
fashion.
They looked as if they wondered what could
bring an armed
party there, but when they saw the ladies =
get
out of the wagon,
they dismounted instantly, and went toward
them hat in hand.
Lord Glenarvan came to meet them, and, as a
stranger,
announced his name and rank.
The gentlemen bowed, and the elder of them
said, "My Lord,
will not these ladies and yourself and fri=
ends
honor us by resting
a little beneath our roof?"
"Mr.--," began Glenarvan.
"Michael and Sandy Patterson are our
names, proprietors of
Hottam Station. Our house is scarcely a quarter of=
a
mile distant."
"Gentlemen," replied Glenarvan,
"I should not like to abuse
such kindly-offered hospitality."
"My Lord," returned Michael
Patterson, "by accepting it you
will confer a favor on poor exiles, who wi=
ll
be only too happy
to do the honors of the wilds."
Glenarvan bowed in token of acquiescence.<= o:p>
"Sir," said Paganel, addressing
Michael Patterson, "if it is not
an impudent question, may I ask whether it=
was
you that sung an air
from the divine Mozart last night?"
"It was, sir," replied the stran=
ger,
"and my cousin Sandy accompanied me."
"Well, sir," replied Paganel,
holding out his hand to the young man,
"receive the sincere compliments of a
Frenchman, who is a passionate
admirer of this music."
Michael grasped his hand cordially, and th=
en
pointing out the road
to take, set off, accompanied by the ladies
and Lord Glenarvan
and his friends, for the station. The horses and the camp were left<= o:p>
to the care of Ayrton and the sailors.
Hottam Station was truly a magnificent
establishment, kept as
scrupulously in order as an English park.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Immense meadows,
enclosed in gray fences, stretched away ou=
t of
sight.
In these, thousands of bullocks and millio=
ns
of sheep were grazing,
tended by numerous shepherds, and still mo=
re
numerous dogs.
The crack of the stock-whip mingled
continually with
the barking of the "collies" and=
the
bellowing and bleating
of the cattle and sheep.
Toward the east there was a boundary of my=
alls
and gum-trees, beyond
which rose Mount Hottam, its imposing peak
towering 7,500 feet high.
Long avenues of green trees were visible on
all sides. Here and there
was a thick clump of "grass trees,&qu=
ot;
tall bushes ten feet high,
like the dwarf palm, quite lost in their c=
rown
of long narrow leaves.
The air was balmy and odorous with the per=
fume
of scented laurels,
whose white blossoms, now in full bloom,
distilled on the breeze
the finest aromatic perfume.
To these charming groups of native trees w=
ere
added transplantations
from European climates. The peach, pear, and apple trees
were there, the fig, the orange, and even =
the
oak, to the rapturous
delight of the travelers, who greeted them
with loud hurrahs!
But astonished as the travelers were to fi=
nd
themselves walking beneath
the shadow of the trees of their own native
land, they were still
more so at the sight of the birds that flew
about in the branches--
the "satin bird," with its silky
plumage, and the "king-honeysuckers,"
with their plumage of gold and black velve=
t.
For the first time, too, they saw here the
"Lyre" bird, the tail
of which resembles in form the graceful
instrument of Orpheus. It fle=
w
about among the tree ferns, and when its t=
ail
struck the branches,
they were almost surprised not to hear the
harmonious strains
that inspired Amphion to rebuild the walls=
of
Thebes. Paganel had
a great desire to play on it.
However, Lord Glenarvan was not satisfied =
with
admiring the fairy-like
wonders of this oasis, improvised in the
Australian desert.
He was listening to the history of the you=
ng
gentlemen.
In England, in the midst of civilized
countries, the new comer
acquaints his host whence he comes and whi=
ther
he is going;
but here, by a refinement of delicacy, Mic=
hael
and Sandy Patterson
thought it a duty to make themselves known=
to
the strangers
who were about to receive their hospitalit=
y.
Michael and Sandy Patterson were the sons =
of
London bankers.
When they were twenty years of age, the he=
ad
of their family said,
"Here are some thousands, young men.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Go to a distant colony;
and start some useful settlement there.
If you succeed, so much the better. If you fail, it won't matter much.=
We shall not regret the money which makes =
you
men."
The two young men obeyed. They chose the colony of Victoria<= o:p>
in Australia, as the field for sowing the
paternal
bank-notes, and had no reason to repent the
selection.
At the end of three years the establishment
was flourishing.
In Victoria, New South Wales, and Southern
Australia, there are
more than three thousand stations, some
belonging to squatters
who rear cattle, and others to settlers who
farm the ground.
Till the arrival of the two Pattersons, the
largest establishment
of this sort was that of Mr. Jamieson, whi=
ch
covered an area
of seventy-five miles, with a frontage of
about eight miles
along the Peron, one of the affluents of t=
he
Darling.
Now Hottam Station bore the palm for busin=
ess
and extent.
The young men were both squatters and
settlers. They managed
their immense property with rare ability a=
nd
uncommon energy.
The station was far removed from the chief
towns in the
midst of the unfrequented districts of the
Murray.
It occupied a long wide space of five leag=
ues
in extent,
lying between the Buffalo Ranges and Mount
Hottam. At the two
angles north of this vast quadrilateral, M=
ount
Aberdeen rose
on the left, and the peaks of High Barven =
on
the right.
Winding, beautiful streams were not wantin=
g,
thanks to the creeks
and affluents of the Oven's River, which
throws itself
at the north into the bed of the Murray. Consequently they
were equally successful in cattle breeding=
and
farming.
Ten thousand acres of ground, admirably
cultivated,
produced harvests of native productions and
exotics, and several
millions of animals fattened in the fertile
pastures.
The products of Hottam Station fetched the
very highest price
in the markets of Castlemaine and Melbourn=
e.
Michael and Sandy Patterson had just concl=
uded
these details
of their busy life, when their dwelling ca=
me
in sight,
at the extremity of the avenue of the oaks=
.
It was a charming house, built of wood and
brick,
hidden in groves of emerophilis. Nothing at all, however,
belonging to a station was visible--neither
sheds, nor stables,
nor cart-houses. All these out-buildings, a
perfect village,
comprising more than twenty huts and house=
s,
were about
a quarter of a mile off in the heart of a
little valley.
Electric communication was established bet=
ween
this village
and the master's house, which, far removed
from all noise,
seemed buried in a forest of exotic trees.=
At Sandy Patterson's bidding, a sumptuous
breakfast was served
in less than a quarter of an hour. The wines and viands were
of the finest quality; but what pleased the
guests most of all
in the midst of these refinements of opule=
nce,
was the joy of
the young squatters in offering them this
splendid hospitality.
It was not long before they were told the
history of the expedition,
and had their liveliest interest awakened =
for
its success.
They spoke hopefully to the young Grants, =
and
Michael said:
"Harry Grant has evidently fallen into
the hands of natives,
since he has not turned up at any of the s=
ettlements
on the coast.
He knows his position exactly, as the docu=
ment
proves, and the reason
he did not reach some English colony is th=
at
he must have been
taken prisoner by the savages the moment he
landed!"
"That is precisely what befell his
quartermaster, Ayrton,"
said John Mangles.
"But you, gentlemen, then, have never
heard the catastrophe
of the BRITANNIA, mentioned?" inquired
Lady Helena.
"Never, Madam," replied Michael.=
"And what treatment, in your opinion,=
has
Captain Grant met
with among the natives?"
"The Australians are not cruel,
Madam," replied the young squatter,
"and Miss Grant may be easy on that
score. There have been many
instances of the gentleness of their natur=
e,
and some Europeans
have lived a long time among them without
having the least cause
to complain of their brutality."
"King, among others, the sole survivo=
r of
the Burke expedition,"
put in Paganel.
"And not only that bold explorer,&quo=
t;
returned Sandy, "but also an
English soldier named Buckley, who deserte=
d at
Port Philip in 1803,
and who was welcomed by the natives, and l=
ived
thirty-three
years among them."
"And more recently," added
Michael," one of the last numbers
of the AUSTRALASIA informs us that a certa=
in
Morrilli has just
been restored to his countrymen after sixt=
een
years of slavery.
His story is exactly similar to the captai=
n's,
for it was at the very time
of his shipwreck in the PRUVIENNE, in 1846,
that he was made prisoner
by the natives, and dragged away into the
interior of the continent.
I therefore think you have reason to hope
still."
The young squatter's words caused great jo=
y to
his auditors.
They completely corroborated the opinions =
of
Paganel and Ayrton.
The conversation turned on the convicts af=
ter
the ladies had
left the table. The squatters had heard of the
catastrophe at
Camden Bridge, but felt no uneasiness about
the escaped gang.
It was not a station, with more than a hun=
dred
men on it, that they
would dare to attack. Besides, they would never go into =
the
deserts
of the Murray, where they could find no bo=
oty,
nor near the colonies
of New South Wales, where the roads were t=
oo
well watched.
Ayrton had said this too.
Glenarvan could not refuse the request of =
his
amiable hosts,
to spend the whole day at the station. It was twelve hours'
delay, but also twelve hours' rest, and bo=
th
horses and bullocks would
be the better for the comfortable quarters
they would find there.
This was accordingly agreed upon, and the
young squatters sketched
out a programme of the day's amusements, w=
hich
was adopted eagerly.
At noon, seven vigorous hunters were before
the door. An elegant brake
was intended for the ladies, in which the
coachman could exhibit his skill
in driving four-in-hand. The cavalcade set=
off
preceded by huntsmen,
and armed with first-rate rifles, followed=
by
a pack of pointers
barking joyously as they bounded through t=
he
bushes. For four hours
the hunting party wandered through the pat=
hs
and avenues of the park,
which was as large as a small German
state. The Reuiss-Schleitz,
or Saxe-Coburg Gotha, would have gone insi=
de
it comfortably.
Few people were to be met in it certainly,=
but
sheep in abundance.
As for game, there was a complete preserve
awaiting the hunters.
The noisy reports of guns were soon heard =
on
all sides. Little Robert
did wonders in company with Major
McNabbs. The daring boy, in s=
pite
of his sister's injunctions, was always in
front, and the first to fire.
But John Mangles promised to watch over hi=
m,
and Mary felt less uneasy.
During this BATTUE they killed certain ani=
mals
peculiar to
the country, the very names of which were
unknown to Paganel;
among others the "wombat" and the
"bandicoot." The wo=
mbat
is
an herbivorous animal, which burrows in the
ground like a badger.
It is as large as a sheep, and the flesh is
excellent.
The bandicoot is a species of marsupial an=
imal
which could outwit
the European fox, and give him lessons in
pillaging poultry yards.
It was a repulsive-looking animal, a foot =
and
a half long, but, as Paganel
chanced to kill it, of course he thought it
charming.
"An adorable creature," he called
it.
But the most interesting event of the day,=
by
far, was the kangaroo hunt.
About four o'clock, the dogs roused a troo=
p of
these curious marsupials.
The little ones retreated precipitately in=
to
the maternal pouch,
and all the troop decamped in file. Nothing could be more astonishing<= o:p>
than the enormous bounds of the kangaroo.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The hind legs of the animal
are twice as long as the front ones, and
unbend like a spring.
At the head of the flying troop was a male
five feet high,
a magnificent specimen of the macropus
giganteus, an "old man,"
as the bushmen say.
For four or five miles the chase was
vigorously pursued.
The kangaroos showed no signs of weariness,
and the dogs,
who had reason enough to fear their strong
paws and
sharp nails, did not care to approach
them. But at last,
worn out with the race, the troop stopped,=
and
the "old man"
leaned against the trunk of a tree, ready =
to
defend himself.
One of the pointers, carried away by
excitement, went up to him.
Next minute the unfortunate beast leaped i=
nto
the air,
and fell down again completely ripped up.<= o:p>
The whole pack, indeed, would have had lit=
tle
chance with these
powerful marsupia. They had to dispatch the fellow wi=
th
rifles.
Nothing but balls could bring down the
gigantic animal.
Just at this moment, Robert was well nigh =
the
victim of his
own imprudence. To make sure of his aim, he had
approached too
near the kangaroo, and the animal leaped u=
pon
him immediately.
Robert gave a loud cry and fell. Mary Grant saw it all from
the brake, and in an agony of terror,
speechless and almost unable
even to see, stretched out her arms toward=
her
little brother.
No one dared to fire, for fear of wounding=
the
child.
But John Mangles opened his hunting knife,=
and
at the risk of being
ripped up himself, sprang at the animal, a=
nd
plunged it into his heart.
The beast dropped forward, and Robert rose
unhurt. Next minute he was
in his sister's arms.
"Thank you, Mr. John, thank you!"
she said, holding out her hand
to the young captain.
"I had pledged myself for his
safety," was all John said,
taking her trembling fingers into his own.=
This occurrence ended the sport. The band of marsupia
had disappeared after the death of their
leader.
The hunting party returned home, bringing =
their
game with them.
It was then six o'clock. A magnificent din=
ner
was ready.
Among other things, there was one dish that
was a great success.
It was kangaroo-tail soup, prepared in the
native manner.
Next morning very early, they took leave of
the young squatters,
with hearty thanks and a positive promise =
from
them of a visit
to Malcolm Castle when they should return =
to
Europe.
Then the wagon began to move away, round t=
he
foot of Mount Hottam,
and soon the hospitable dwelling disappear=
ed
from the sight
of the travelers like some brief vision wh=
ich
had come and gone.
For five miles further, the horses were st=
ill
treading the station lands.
It was not till nine o'clock that they had
passed the last fence,
and entered the almost unknown districts of
the province of Victoria.
AN immense barrier lay across the route to=
the
southeast.
It was the
curtain of which extended 1,500 miles, and
pierced the clouds
at the height of 4,000 feet.
The cloudy sky only allowed the heat to re=
ach
the ground through
a close veil of mist. The temperature was just bearable,=
but the road was toilsome from its uneven
character.
The extumescences on the plain became more=
and
more marked.
Several mounds planted with green young gum
trees appeared
here and there. Further on these protuberances ris=
ing
sharply,
formed the first steps of the great Alps.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> From this time their
course was a continual ascent, as was soon
evident in the strain
it made on the bullocks to drag along the
cumbrous wagon.
Their yoke creaked, they breathed heavily,=
and
the muscles
of their houghs were stretched as if they
would burst.
The planks of the vehicle groaned at the
unexpected jolts,
which Ayrton with all his skill could not
prevent.
The ladies bore their share of discomfort
bravely.
John Mangles and his two sailors acted as
scouts, and went about
a hundred steps in advance. They found out practical paths,
or passes, indeed they might be called, for
these projections
of the ground were like so many rocks, bet=
ween
which the wagon
had to steer carefully. It required absolute navigation to=
find
a safe way over the billowy region.
It was a difficult and often perilous
task. Many a time Wilson's
hatchet was obliged to open a passage thro=
ugh
thick tangles of shrubs.
The damp argillaceous soil gave way under
their feet. The route
was indefinitely prolonged owing to the
insurmountable obstacles,
huge blocks of granite, deep ravines,
suspected lagoons, which obliged
them to make a thousand detours. When night came they found they ha=
d
only gone over half a degree. They camped at the foot of the Alp=
s,
on the banks of the creek of Cobongra, on =
the
edge of a little plain,
covered with little shrubs four feet high,
with bright red leaves
which gladdened the eye.
"We shall have hard work to get
over," said Glenarvan,
looking at the chain of mountains, the
outlines of which were
fast fading away in the deepening
darkness. "The very name=
Alps gives plenty of room for reflection.&=
quot;
"It is not quite so big as it sounds,=
my
dear Glenarvan.
Don't suppose you have a whole Switzerland=
to
traverse.
In Australia there are the Grampians, the
Pyrenees, the Alps,
the Blue Mountains, as in Europe and Ameri=
ca,
but in miniature.
This simply implies either that the
imagination of geographers
is not infinite, or that their vocabulary =
of
proper names
is very poor."
"Then these Australian Alps," sa=
id
Lord Glenarvan, "are--"
"Mere pocket mountains," put in
Paganel; "we shall get over them
without knowing it."
"Speak for yourself," said the
Major. "It would certain=
ly
take
a very absent man who could cross over a c=
hain
of mountains
and not know it."
"Absent! But I am not an absent man now.
Since ever I set foot on the Australian
continent, have I been once
at fault?=
Can you reproach me with a single blunder?"
"Not one. Monsieur Paganel," said Mary
Grant. "You are now the =
most
perfect of men."
"Too perfect," added Lady Helena,
laughing; "your blunders
suited you admirably."
"Didn't they, Madam? If I have no faults now, I shall s=
oon
get
like everybody else. I hope then I shall make some outr=
ageous
mistake before long, which will give you a
good laugh.
You see, unless I make mistakes, it seems =
to
me I fail
in my vocation."
Next day, the 9th of January, notwithstand=
ing
the assurances
of the confident geographer, it was not
without great difficulty
that the little troop made its way through=
the
Alpine pass.
They were obliged to go at a venture, and
enter the depths of
narrow gorges without any certainty of an
outlet. Ayrton would
doubtless have found himself very much
embarrassed if a little inn,
a miserable public house, had not suddenly
presented itself.
"My goodness!" cried Paganel,
"the landlord of this inn won't make
his fortune in a place like this. What is the use of it here?"<= o:p>
"To give us the information we want a=
bout
the route,"
replied Glenarvan. "Let us go in."
Glenarvan, followed by Ayrton, entered the=
inn
forthwith.
The landlord of the "Bush Inn," =
as
it was called, was a coarse man
with an ill-tempered face, who must have
considered himself his
principal customer for the gin, brandy and
whisky he had to sell.
He seldom saw any one but the squatters and
rovers.
He answered all the questions put to him i=
n a
surly tone.
But his replies sufficed to make the route
clear to Ayrton,
and that was all that was wanted. Glenarvan rewarded him with a
handful of silver for his trouble, and was
about to leave the tavern,
when a placard against the wall arrested h=
is
attention.
It was a police notice, and announcing the
escape of the convicts
from Perth, and offering a reward for the
capture of Ben Joyce
of pounds 100 sterling.
"He's a fellow that's worth hanging, =
and
no mistake,"
said Glenarvan to the quartermaster.
"And worth capturing still more. But what a sum to offer!
He is not worth it!"
"I don't feel very sure of the innkee=
per
though, in spite
of the notice," said Glenarvan.
"No more do I," replied Ayrton.<= o:p>
They went back to the wagon, toward the po=
int
where the route
to Lucknow stopped. A narrow path wound away from this=
which led across the chain in a slanting
direction.
They had commenced the ascent.
It was hard work. More than once both the ladies and
gentlemen
had to get down and walk. They were obliged to help to push =
round
the wheels of the heavy vehicle, and to
support it frequently
in dangerous declivities, to unhar-ness the
bullocks when the team
could not go well round sharp turnings, pr=
op
up the wagon when it
threatened to roll back, and more than once
Ayrton had to reinforce
his bullocks by harnessing the horses,
although they were tired
out already with dragging themselves along=
.
Whether it was this prolonged fatigue, or =
from
some other
cause altogether, was not known, but one of
the horses
sank suddenly, without the slightest sympt=
om
of illness.
It was Mulrady's horse that fell, and on
attempting to pull it up,
the animal was found to be dead. Ayrton examined it immediately,
but was quite at a loss to account for the
disaster.
"The beast must have broken some blood
vessels," said Glenarvan.
"Evidently," replied Ayrton.
"Take my horse, Mulrady," added
Glenarvan. "I will join =
Lady
Helena
in the wagon."
Mulrady obeyed, and the little party conti=
nued
their fatiguing ascent,
leaving the carcass of the dead animal to =
the
ravens.
The Australian Alps are of no great thickn=
ess,
and the base
is not more than eight miles wide. Consequently if the pass
chosen by Ayrton came out on the eastern s=
ide,
they might hope
to get over the high barrier within
forty-eight hours more.
The difficulty of the route would then be
surmounted, and they
would only have to get to the sea.
During the 18th the travelers reached the
top-most point of the pass,
about 2,000 feet high. They found themselves on an open p=
lateau,
with nothing to intercept the view. Toward the north the quiet waters<= o:p>
of Lake Omco, all alive with aquatic birds,
and beyond this lay
the vast plains of the Murray. To the south were the wide spreadi=
ng
plains of Gippsland, with its abundant
gold-fields and tall forests.
There nature was still mistress of the
products and water,
and great trees where the woodman's ax was=
as
yet unknown,
and the squatters, then five in number, co=
uld
not struggle against her.
It seemed as if this chain of the Alps sep=
arated
two different
countries, one of which had retained its
primitive wildness.
The sun went down, and a few solitary rays
piercing the rosy clouds,
lighted up the Murray district, leaving
Gippsland in deep shadow,
as if night had suddenly fallen on the who=
le
region. The contrast
was presented very vividly to the spectato=
rs
placed between
these two countries so divided, and some
emotion filled the minds
of the travelers, as they contemplated the
almost unknown district
they were about to traverse right to the
frontiers of Victoria.
They camped on the plateau that night, and
next day
the descent commenced. It was tolerably rapid.
A hailstorm of extreme violence assailed t=
he
travelers,
and obliged them to seek a shelter among t=
he
rocks.
It was not hail-stones, but regular lumps =
of
ice,
as large as one's hand, which fell from the
stormy clouds.
A waterspout could not have come down with
more violence,
and sundry big bruises warned Paganel and
Robert to retreat.
The wagon was riddled in several places, a=
nd
few coverings
would have held out against those sharp
icicles, some of
which had fastened themselves into the tru=
nks
of the trees.
It was impossible to go on till this
tremendous shower was over,
unless the travelers wished to be stoned.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> It lasted about an hour,
and then the march commenced anew over
slanting rocks still
slippery after the hail.
Toward evening the wagon, very much shaken=
and
disjointed
in several parts, but still standing firm =
on
its wooden disks,
came down the last slopes of the Alps, amo=
ng
great isolated pines.
The passage ended in the plains of
Gippsland. The chain
of the Alps was safely passed, and the usu=
al
arrangements
were made for the nightly encampment.
On the 21st, at daybreak, the journey was
resumed with an ardor which
never relaxed. Everyone was eager to reach the
goal--that is to say
the Pacific Ocean--at that part where the
wreck of the BRITANNIA
had occurred. Nothing could be done in the lonely
wilds of Gippsland,
and Ayrton urged Lord Glenarvan to send or=
ders
at once for the DUNCAN
to repair to the coast, in order to have at
hand all means of research.
He thought it would certainly be advisable=
to
take advantage of
the Lucknow route to Melbourne. If they waited it would be difficu=
lt
to find any way of direct communication wi=
th
the capital.
This advice seemed good, and Paganel
recommended that they should act
upon it.&=
nbsp;
He also thought that the presence of the yacht would be
very useful, and he added, that if the Luc=
know
road was once passed,
it would be impossible to communicate with
Melbourne.
Glenarvan was undecided what to do, and
perhaps he would have
yielded to Ayrton's arguments, if the Major
had not combated this
decision vigorously. He maintained that the presence of
Ayrton
was necessary to the expedition, that he w=
ould
know the country
about the coast, and that if any chance sh=
ould
put them on the track
of Harry Grant, the quartermaster would be
better able to follow
it up than any one else, and, finally, tha=
t he
alone could point
out the exact spot where the shipwreck
occurred.
McNabbs voted therefore for the continuati=
on
of the voyage,
without making the least change in their
programme.
John Mangles was of the same opinion. The young captain
said even that orders would reach the DUNC=
AN
more easily
from Twofold Bay, than if a message was se=
nt
two hundred miles
over a wild country.
His counsel prevailed. It was decided that they should wa=
it
till
they came to Twofold Bay. The Major watched Ayrton narrowly,=
and noticed his disappointed look. But he said nothing,
keeping his observations, as usual, to
himself.
The plains which lay at the foot of the
Australian Alps were level,
but slightly inclined toward the east. Great clumps of mimosas
and eucalyptus, and various odorous gum-tr=
ees,
broke the uniform
monotony here and there. The gastrolobium grandiflorum
covered the ground, with its bushes covered
with gay flowers.
Several unimportant creeks, mere streams f=
ull
of little rushes,
and half covered up with orchids, often
interrupted the route.
They had to ford these. Flocks of bustards and emus fled
at the approach of the travelers. Below the shrubs,
kangaroos were leaping and springing like
dancing jacks.
But the hunters of the party were not thin=
king
much of the sport,
and the horses little needed any additional
fatigue.
Moreover, a sultry heat oppressed the
plain. The atmosphere
was completely saturated with electricity,=
and
its influence
was felt by men and beasts. They just dragged themselves along=
,
and cared for nothing else. The silence was only interrupted
by the cries of Ayrton urging on his burde=
ned
team.
From noon to two o'clock they went through=
a
curious forest of ferns,
which would have excited the admiration of
less weary travelers.
These plants in full flower measured thirty
feet in height.
Horses and riders passed easily beneath th=
eir
drooping leaves,
and sometimes the spurs would clash against
the woody stems.
Beneath these immovable parasols there was=
a
refreshing coolness
which every one appreciated. Jacques Paganel, always demonstrat=
ive,
gave such deep sighs of satisfaction that =
the
paroquets and cockatoos
flew out in alarm, making a deafening chor=
us
of noisy chatter.
The geographer was going on with his sighs=
and
jubilations with the
utmost coolness, when his companions sudde=
nly
saw him reel forward,
and he and his horse fell down in a lump.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Was it giddiness,
or worse still, suffocation, caused by the
high temperature?
They ran to him, exclaiming: "Paganel! Paganel! what is the matter?"=
"Just this. I have no horse, now!" he rep=
lied,
disengaging his feet
from the stirrups.
"What! your horse?"
"Dead like Mulrady's, as if a thunder=
bolt
had struck him."
Glenarvan, John Mangles, and Wilson examin=
ed
the animal; and found
Paganel was right. His horse had been suddenly struck=
dead.
"That is strange," said John.
"Very strange, truly," muttered =
the
Major.
Glenarvan was greatly disturbed by this fr=
esh
accident.
He could not get a fresh horse in the dese=
rt,
and if an epidemic
was going to seize their steeds, they woul=
d be
seriously
embarrassed how to proceed.
Before the close of the day, it seemed as =
if
the word epidemic was
really going to be justified. A third horse, Wilson's, fell dead=
,
and what was, perhaps equally disastrous, =
one
of the bullocks also.
The means of traction and transport were n=
ow
reduced to three bullocks
and four horses.
The situation became grave. The unmounted horsemen
might walk, of course, as many squatters h=
ad
done already;
but if they abandoned the wagon, what would
the ladies do?
Could they go over the one hundred and twe=
nty
miles which lay
between them and Twofold Bay? John Mangles and Lord Glenarvan
examined the surviving horses with great
uneasiness, but there
was not the slightest symptom of illness or
feebleness in them.
The animals were in perfect health, and
bravely bearing
the fatigues of the voyage. This somewhat reassured Glenarvan,=
and made him hope the malady would strike =
no
more victims.
Ayrton agreed with him, but was unable to =
find
the least solution
of the mystery.
They went on again, the wagon serving, from
time to time,
as a house of rest for the pedestrians.
after a march of only ten miles, the signa=
l to
halt was given,
and the tent pitched. The night passed without inconveni=
ence
beneath a vast mass of bushy ferns, under =
which
enormous bats,
properly called flying foxes, were flapping
about.
The next day's journey was good; there wer=
e no
new calamities.
The health of the expedition remained
satisfactory; horses and cattle
did their task cheerily. Lady Helena's drawing-room was very
lively,
thanks to the number of visitors. M. Olbinett busied himself in pass=
ing
round refreshments which were very accepta=
ble
in such hot weather.
Half a barrel of Scotch ale was sent in
bodily. Barclay and Co.
was declared to be the greatest man in Gre=
at
Britain, even above
Wellington, who could never have manufactu=
red
such good beer.
This was a Scotch estimate. Jacques Paganel drank largely,
and discoursed still more de omni re scibi=
li.
A day so well commenced seemed as if it co=
uld
not but end well;
they had gone fifteen good miles, and mana=
ged
to get
over a pretty hilly district where the soil
was reddish.
There was every reason to hope they might =
camp
that same night
on the banks of the Snowy River, an import=
ant
river which throws
itself into the Pacific, south of Victoria=
.
Already the wheels of the wagon were making
deep ruts on
the wide plains, covered with blackish
alluvium, as it passed on
between tufts of luxuriant grass and fresh
fields of gastrolobium.
As evening came on, a white mist on the
horizon marked the course
of the Snowy River. Several additional miles were got =
over,
and a forest of tall trees came in sight a=
t a
bend of the road,
behind a gentle eminence. Ayrton turned his team a little to=
ward
the great trunks, lost in shadow, and he h=
ad
got to the skirts
of the wood, about half-a-mile from the ri=
ver,
when the wagon
suddenly sank up to the middle of the whee=
ls.
"Stop!" he called out to the
horsemen following him.
"What is wrong?" inquired Glenar=
van.
"We have stuck in the mud," repl=
ied
Ayrton.
He tried to stimulate the bullocks to a fr=
esh
effort by voice
and goad, but the animals were buried half=
-way
up their legs,
and could not stir.
"Let us camp here," suggested Jo=
hn
Mangles.
"It would certainly be the best
place," said Ayrton. &qu=
ot;We
shall
see by daylight to-morrow how to get ourse=
lves
out."
Glenarvan acted on their advice, and came =
to a
halt.
Night came on rapidly after a brief twilig=
ht,
but the heat did
not withdraw with the light. Stifling vapors filled the air,
and occasionally bright flashes of lightni=
ng,
the reflections
of a distant storm, lighted up the sky wit=
h a
fiery glare.
Arrangements were made for the night
immediately.
They did the best they could with the sunk
wagon, and the tent
was pitched beneath the shelter of the gre=
at
trees; and if the rain
did not come, they had not much to complain
about.
Ayrton succeeded, though with some difficu=
lty,
in extricating
the three bullocks. These courageous beasts were engul=
fed up
to
their flanks. The quartermaster turned them out =
with
the four horses,
and allowed no one but himself to see after
their pasturage.
He always executed his task wisely, and th=
is
evening Glenarvan noticed
he redoubled his care, for which he took
occasion to thank him,
the preservation of the team being of supr=
eme
importance.
Meantime, the travelers were dispatching a
hasty supper.
Fatigue and heat destroy appetite, and sle=
ep
was needed more than food.
Lady Helena and Miss Grant speedily bade t=
he
company good-night,
and retired. Their companions soon stretched
themselves under
the tent or outside under the trees, which=
is
no great hardship
in this salubrious climate.
Gradually they all fell into a heavy sleep. The darkness deepened<= o:p>
owing to a thick current of clouds which
overspread the sky.
There was not a breath of wind. The silence of night was only
interrupted by the cries of the
"morepork" in the minor key,
like the mournful cuckoos of Europe.
Towards eleven o'clock, after a wretched,
heavy, unre-freshing sleep,
the Major woke. His half-closed eyes were struck w=
ith a
faint
light running among the great trees. It looked like a white sheet,
and glittered like a lake, and McNabbs tho=
ught
at first it was
the commencement of a fire.
He started up, and went toward the wood; b=
ut
what was
his surprise to perceive a purely natural
phenomenon!
Before him lay an immense bed of mushrooms,
which emitted
a phosphorescent light. The luminous spores of the cryptog=
rams
shone in the darkness with intensity.
The Major, who had no selfishness about hi=
m,
was going
to waken Paganel, that he might see this
phenomenon with
his own eyes, when something occurred which
arrested him.
This phosphorescent light illumined the
distance half a mile,
and McNabbs fancied he saw a shadow pass
across the edge of it.
Were his eyes deceiving him? Was it some hallucination?
McNabbs lay down on the ground, and, after=
a
close scrutiny,
he could distinctly see several men stoopi=
ng
down and lifting
themselves up alternately, as if they were
looking on the ground
for recent marks.
The Major resolved to find out what these
fellows were about,
and without the least hesitation or so muc=
h as
arousing his companions,
crept along, lying flat on the ground, lik=
e a
savage on the prairies,
completely hidden among the long grass.
IT was a frightful night. At two A. M. the rain began
to fall in torrents from the stormy clouds,
and continued
till daybreak. The tent became an insufficient sh=
elter.
Glenarvan and his companions took refuge in
the wagon;
they did not sleep, but talked of one thing
and another.
The Major alone, whose brief absence had n=
ot
been noticed,
contented himself with being a silent
listener. There was
reason to fear that if the storm lasted lo=
nger
the Snowy River
would overflow its banks, which would be a
very unlucky thing
for the wagon, stuck fast as it was alread=
y in
the soft ground.
Mulrady, Ayrton and Mangles went several t=
imes
to ascertain
the height of the water, and came back
dripping from head to foot.
At last day appeared; the rain ceased, but
sunlight could not break
through the thick clouds. Large patches of yellowish water--=
muddy, dirty ponds indeed they were--cover=
ed
the ground.
A hot steam rose from the soaking earth, a=
nd
saturated the atmosphere
with unhealthy humidity.
Glenarvan's first concern was the wagon; t=
his
was the main thing
in his eyes. They examined the ponderous vehicl=
e, and
found it
sunk in the mud in a deep hollow in the st=
iff
clay. The forepart
had disappeared completely, and the hind p=
art
up to the axle.
It would be a hard job to get the heavy
conveyance out, and would
need the united strength of men, bullocks,=
and
horses.
"At any rate, we must make haste,&quo=
t;
said John Mangles. "If t=
he
clay dries,
it will make our task still more
difficult."
"Let us be quick, then," replied
Ayrton.
Glenarvan, his two sailors, John Mangles, =
and
Ayrton went off
at once into the wood, where the animals h=
ad
passed the night.
It was a gloomy-looking forest of tall
gum-trees; nothing but dead trees,
with wide spaces between, which had been
barked for ages, or rather
skinned like the cork-oak at harvest
time. A miserable network
of bare branches was seen above two hundred
feet high in the air.
Not a bird built its nest in these aerial
skeletons; not a leaf
trembled on the dry branches, which rattled
together like bones.
To what cataclysm is this phenomenon to be
attributed, so frequent
in Australia, entire forests struck dead by
some epidemic; no one knows;
neither the oldest natives, nor their
ancestors who have lain long
buried in the groves of the dead, have ever
seen them green.
Glenarvan as he went along kept his eye fi=
xed
on the gray sky,
on which the smallest branch of the gum-tr=
ees
was sharply defined.
Ayrton was astonished not to discover the
horses and bullocks
where he had left them the preceding
night. They could not have
wandered far with the hobbles on their leg=
s.
They looked over the wood, but saw no sign=
s of
them, and Ayrton returned
to the banks of the river, where magnifice=
nt
mimosas were growing.
He gave a cry well known to his team, but
there was no reply.
The quartermaster seemed uneasy, and his
companions looked at him
with disappointed faces. An hour had passed in vain endeavo=
rs,
and Glenarvan was about to go back to the
wagon, when a neigh struck
on his ear, and immediately after a bellow=
.
"They are there!" cried John
Mangles, slipping between the tall branches
of gastrolobium, which grew high enough to
hide a whole flock.
Glenarvan, Mulrady, and Ayrton darted after
him, and speedily shared
his stupefaction at the spectacle which met
their gaze.
Two bullocks and three horses lay stretche=
d on
the ground,
struck down like the rest. Their bodies were already cold,
and a flock of half-starved looking ravens
croaking
among the mimosas were watching the unexpe=
cted
prey.
Glenarvan and his party gazed at each other
and Wilson could
not keep back the oath that rose to his li=
ps.
"What do you mean, Wilson?" said
Glenarvan, with difficulty
controlling himself. "Ayrton, bring away the bullo=
ck and
the horse
we have left; they will have to serve us
now."
"If the wagon were not sunk in the
mud," said John Mangles,
"these two animals, by making short
journeys, would be able
to take us to the coast; so we must get the
vehicle out,
cost what it may."
"We will try, John," replied
Glenarvan. "Let us go ba=
ck
now,
or they will be uneasy at our long
absence."
Ayrton removed the hobbles from the bullock
and Mulrady from the horse,
and they began to return to the encampment,
following the winding margin
of the river. In half an hour they rejoined Paga=
nel,
and McNabbs,
and the ladies, and told them of this fresh
disaster.
"Upon my honor, Ayrton," the Maj=
or
could not help saying,
"it is a pity that you hadn't had the
shoeing of all our beasts
when we forded the Wimerra."
"Why, sir?" asked Ayrton.
"Because out of all our horses only t=
he
one your blacksmith
had in his hands has escaped the common
fate."
"That's true," said John
Mangles. "It's strange it
happens so."
"A mere chance, and nothing more,&quo=
t;
replied the quartermaster,
looking firmly at the Major.
Major McNabbs bit his lips as if to keep b=
ack
something
he was about to say. Glenarvan and the rest waited
for him to speak out his thoughts, but the
Major was silent,
and went up to the wagon, which Ayrton was=
examining.
"What was he going to say. Mangles?" asked Glenarvan.
"I don't know," replied the young
captain; "but the Major is not at
all a man to speak without reason."
"No, John," said Lady Helena.
about Ayrton."
"Suspicions!" exclaimed Paganel,
shrugging his shoulders.
"And what can they be?" asked
Glenarvan. "Does he supp=
ose
him capable
of having killed our horses and bullocks?<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> And for what purpose?
Is not Ayrton's interest identical with our
own?"
"You are right, dear Edward," sa=
id
Lady Helena! "and what is more,
the quartermaster has given us incontestab=
le
proofs of his devotion
ever since the commencement of the
journey."
"Certainly he has," replied Mang=
les;
"but still, what could
the Major mean? I wish he would speak his mind pla=
inly
out."
"Does he suppose him acting in concert
with the convicts?"
asked Paganel, imprudently.
"What convicts?" said Miss Grant=
.
"Monsieur Paganel is making a
mistake," replied John Mangles, instantly.
"He knows very well there are no conv=
icts
in the province of Victoria."
"Ah, that is true," returned
Paganel, trying to get out of his
unlucky speech. "Whatever had I got in my
head? Convicts! who ever
heard of convicts being in Australia? Besides, they would scarcely
have disembarked before they would turn in=
to
good, honest men.
The climate, you know, Miss Mary, the
regenerative climate--"
Here the poor SAVANT stuck fast, unable to=
get
further,
like the wagon in the mud. Lady Helena looked at him in surpr=
ise,
which quite deprived him of his remaining
sang-froid; but seeing
his embarrassment, she took Mary away to t=
he
side of the tent,
where M. Olbinett was laying out an elabor=
ate
breakfast.
"I deserve to be transported
myself," said Paganel, woefully.
"I think so," said Glenarvan.
And after this grave reply, which complete=
ly
overwhelmed
the worthy geographer, Glenarvan and John
Mangles went
toward the wagon.
They found Ayrton and the two sailors doing
their best to get it
out of the deep ruts, and the bullock and
horse, yoked together,
were straining every muscle. Wilson and Mulrady were pushing the
wheels,
and the quartermaster urging on the team w=
ith
voice and goad;
but the heavy vehicle did not stir, the cl=
ay,
already dry, held it
as firmly as if sealed by some hydraulic c=
ement.
John Mangles had the clay watered to loosen
it, but it was of no use.
After renewed vigorous efforts, men and
animals stopped.
Unless the vehicle was taken to pieces, it
would be impossible
to extricate it from the mud; but they had=
no
tools for the purpose,
and could not attempt such a task.
However, Ayrton, who was for conquering th=
is
obstacle at all costs,
was about to commence afresh, when Glenarv=
an
stopped him by saying:
"Enough, Ayrton, enough. We must husband the strength of our
remaining
horse and bullock. If we are obliged to continue our
journey on foot,
the one animal can carry the ladies and the
other the provisions.
They may thus still be of great service to
us."
"Very well, my Lord," replied the
quartermaster, un-yoking
the exhausted beasts.
"Now, friends," added Glenarvan,
"let us return to the encampment
and deliberately examine our situation, and
determine on our
course of action."
After a tolerably good breakfast to make up
for their bad night,
the discussion was opened, and every one of
the party was asked
to give his opinion. The first point was to ascertain t=
heir
exact position, and this was referred to
Paganel, who informed them,
with his customary rigorous accuracy, that=
the
expedition had been
stopped on the 37th parallel, in longitude=
147
degrees 53 minutes,
on the banks of the Snowy River.
"What is the exact longitude of Twofo=
ld
Bay?" asked Glenarvan.
"One hundred and fifty degrees,"
replied Paganel; "two degrees seven
minutes distant from this, and that is equ=
al
to seventy-five miles."
"And Melbourne is?"
"Two hundred miles off at least."=
;
"Very good. Our position being then settled, w=
hat is
best to do?"
The response was unanimous to get to the c=
oast
without delay.
Lady Helena and Mary Grant undertook to go
five miles a day.
The courageous ladies did not shrink, if
necessary, from walking
the whole distance between the Snowy River=
and
Twofold Bay.
"You are a brave traveling companion,
dear Helena,"
said Lord Glenarvan. "But are we sure of finding a=
t the
bay
all we want when we get there?"
"Without the least doubt," repli=
ed
Paganel. "Eden is a
municipality
which already numbers many years in existe=
nce;
its port must have
frequent communication with Melbourne. I suppose even at Delegete,
on the Victoria frontier, thirty-five miles
from here, we might
revictual our expedition, and find fresh m=
eans
of transport."
"And the DUNCAN?" asked Ayrton.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "Don't you think it advisable=
to send for her to come to the bay?"<= o:p>
"What do you think, John?" said
Glenarvan.
"I don't think your lordship should b=
e in
any hurry about it,"
replied the young captain, after brief
reflection.
"There will be time enough to give or=
ders
to Tom Austin,
and summon him to the coast."
"That's quite certain," added
Paganel.
"You see," said John, "in f=
our
or five days we shall reach Eden."
"Four or five days!" repeated
Ayrton, shaking his head;
"say fifteen or twenty, Captain, if y=
ou
don't want to repent
your mistake when it is too late."
"Fifteen or twenty days to go
seventy-five miles?" cried Glenarvan.
"At the least, my Lord. You are going to traverse the most
difficult
portion of Victoria, a desert, where
everything is wanting,
the squatters say; plains covered with scr=
ub,
where is no beaten
track and no stations. You will have to walk hatchet or t=
orch
in hand, and, believe me, that's not quick
work."
Ayrton had spoken in a firm tone, and Paga=
nel,
at whom all the others
looked inquiringly, nodded his head in tok=
en
of his agreement in opinion
with the quartermaster.
But John Mangles said, "Well, admitti=
ng
these difficulties, in fifteen
days at most your Lordship can send orders=
to
the DUNCAN."
"I have to add," said Ayrton,
"that the principal difficulties are
not the obstacles in the road, but the Sno=
wy
River has to be crossed,
and most probably we must wait till the wa=
ter
goes down."
"Wait!" cried John. "Is there no ford?"
"I think not," replied Ayrton. "This morning I was looking
for some practical crossing, but could not
find any.
It is unusual to meet with such a tumultuo=
us
river at this time
of the year, and it is a fatality against
which I am powerless."
"Is this Snowy River wide?" asked
Lady Helena.
"Wide and deep, Madam," replied
Ayrton; "a mile wide,
with an impetuous current. A good swimmer could not go
over without danger."
"Let us build a boat then," said
Robert, who never stuck at anything.
"We have only to cut down a tree and
hollow it out, and get
in and be off."
"He's going ahead, this boy of Captain
Grant's!" said Paganel.
"And he's right," returned John
Mangles. "We shall be fo=
rced
to come to that, and I think it is useless=
to
waste our time
in idle discussion."
"What do you think of it, Ayrton?&quo=
t;
asked Glenarvan seriously.
"I think, my Lord, that a month hence,
unless some help arrives,
we shall find ourselves still on the banks=
of
the Snowy."
"Well, then, have you any better plan=
to
propose?"
said John Mangles, somewhat impatiently.
"Yes, that the DUNCAN should leave
Melbourne, and go to the east coast."
"Oh, always the same story! And how could her presence at the =
bay
facilitate our means of getting there?&quo=
t;
Ayrton waited an instant before answering,=
and
then said,
rather evasively: "I have no wish to obtrude my
opinions.
What I do is for our common good, and I am
ready to start
the moment his honor gives the signal.&quo=
t; And he crossed his arms
and was silent.
"That is no reply, Ayrton," said
Glenarvan. "Tell us your=
plan,
and we will discuss it. What is it you propose?"
Ayrton replied in a calm tone of
assurance: "I propose th=
at we
should not venture beyond the Snowy in our
present condition.
It is here we must wait till help comes, a=
nd
this help can only
come from the DUNCAN. Let us camp here, where we have
provisions,
and let one of us take your orders to Tom
Austin to go on
to Twofold Bay."
This unexpected proposition was greeted wi=
th
astonishment,
and by John Mangles with openly-expressed
opposition.
"Meantime," continued Ayrton,
"either the river will get lower,
and allow us to ford it, or we shall have =
time
to make a canoe.
This is the plan I submit for your Lordshi=
p's
approval."
"Well, Ayrton," replied Glenarva=
n,
"your plan is worthy of
serious consideration. The worst thing about it is the de=
lay it
would cause; but it would save us great
fatigue, and perhaps danger.
What do you think of it, friends?"
"Speak your mind, McNabbs," said
Lady Helena. "Since the
beginning
of the discussion you have been only a
listener, and very sparing
of your words."
"Since you ask my advice," said =
the
Major, "I will give it you frankly.
I think Ayrton has spoken wisely and well,=
and
I side with him."
Such a reply was hardly looked for, as
hitherto the Major had been
strongly opposed to Ayrton's project. Ayrton himself was surprised,
and gave a hasty glance at the Major. However, Paganel, Lady Helena,
and the sailors were all of the same way of
thinking; and since McNabbs
had come over to his opinion, Glenarvan
decided that the quartermaster's
plan should be adopted in principle.
"And now, John," he added,
"don't you think yourself it would
be prudent to encamp here, on the banks of=
the
river Snowy,
till we can get some means of
conveyance."
"Yes," replied John Mangles,
"if our messenger can get across
the Snowy when we cannot."
All eyes were turned on the quartermaster,=
who
said,
with the air of a man who knew what he was
about:
"The messenger will not cross the
river."
"Indeed!" said John Mangles.
"He will simply go back to the Lucknow
Road which leads
straight to Melbourne."
"Go two hundred and fifty miles on
foot!" cried the young Captain.
"On horseback," replied Ayrton.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "There is one horse sound
enough at present. It will only be an affair of four =
days.
Allow the DUNCAN two days more to get to t=
he
bay and twenty
hours to get back to the camp, and in a we=
ek
the messenger can
be back with the entire crew of the
vessel."
The Major nodded approvingly as Ayrton spo=
ke,
to the profound astonishment
of John Mangles; but as every one was in f=
avor
of the plan all there
was to do was to carry it out as quickly as
possible.
"Now, then, friends," said
Glenarvan, "we must settle
who is to be our messenger. It will be a fatiguing,
perilous mission. I would not conceal the fact from =
you.
Who is disposed, then, to sacrifice himself
for his companions
and carry our instructions to Melbourne?&q=
uot;
Wilson and Mulrady, and also Paganel, John
Mangles and Robert instantly
offered their services. John particularly insisted that he
should
be intrusted with the business; but Ayrton,
who had been silent till
that moment, now said: "With your Honor's permission=
I
will go myself.
I am accustomed to all the country round.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Many a time I have been
across worse parts. I can go through where another wou=
ld
stick.
I ask then, for the good of all, that I ma=
y be
sent to Melbourne. A word
from you will accredit me with your chief
officer, and in six days I
guarantee the DUNCAN shall be in Twofold
Bay."
"That's well spoken," replied
Glenarvan. "You are a cl=
ever,
daring fellow, and you will succeed."=
It was quite evident the quartermaster was=
the
fittest man
for the mission. All the rest withdrew from the
competition.
John Mangles made this one last objection,
that the presence
of Ayrton was necessary to discover traces=
of
the BRITANNIA
or Harry Grant. But the Major justly observed that=
the
expedition
would remain on the banks of the Snowy till
the return of Ayrton,
that they had no idea of resuming their se=
arch
without him,
and that consequently his absence would no=
t in
the least
prejudice the Captain's interests.
"Well, go, Ayrton," said
Glenarvan. "Be as quick =
as you
can,
and come back by Eden to our camp."
A gleam of satisfaction shot across the
quartermaster's face.
He turned away his head, but not before Jo=
hn
Mangles caught the look
and instinctively felt his old distrust of
Ayrton revive.
The quartermaster made immediate preparati=
ons
for departure,
assisted by the two sailors, one of whom s=
aw
to the horse
and the other to the provisions. Glenarvan, meantime,
wrote his letter for Tom Austin. He ordered his chief officer
to repair without delay to Twofold Bay.
the quartermaster to him as a man worthy of
all confidence.
On arriving at the coast, Tom was to dispa=
tch
a detachment
of sailors from the yacht under his orders=
.
Glenarvan was just at this part of his let=
ter,
when McNabbs,
who was following him with his eyes, asked=
him
in a singular tone,
how he wrote Ayrton's name.
"Why, as it is pronounced, of
course," replied Glenarvan.
"It is a mistake," replied the M=
ajor
quietly. "He pronounces =
it
AYRTON,
but he writes it Ben Joyce!"
THE revelation of Tom Ayrton's name was li=
ke a
clap of thunder.
Ayrton had started up quickly and grasped =
his
revolver.
A report was heard, and Glenarvan fell wou=
nded
by a ball.
Gunshots resounded at the same time outsid=
e.
John Mangles and the sailors, after their
first surprise,
would have seized Ben Joyce; but the bold
convict had already
disappeared and rejoined his gang scattered
among the gum-trees.
The tent was no shelter against the
balls. It was necessary to be=
at
a retreat. Glenarvan was slightly wounded, but
could stand up.
"To the wagon--to the wagon!" cr=
ied
John Mangles, dragging Lady Helena
and Mary Grant along, who were soon in saf=
ety
behind the thick curtains.
John and the Major, and Paganel and the
sailors seized
their carbines in readiness to repulse the
convicts.
Glenarvan and Robert went in beside the
ladies, while Olbinett
rushed to the common defense.
These events occurred with the rapidity of
lightning.
John Mangles watched the skirts of the wood
attentively.
The reports had ceased suddenly on the arr=
ival
of Ben Joyce;
profound silence had succeeded the noisy
fusillade.
A few wreaths of white smoke were still
curling over the tops
of the gum trees. The tall tufts of gastrolobium were
motionless.
All signs of attack had disappeared.
The Major and John Mangles examined the wo=
od
closely as far as
the great trees; the place was abandoned.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Numerous footmarks were
there and several half-burned caps were ly=
ing
smoking on the ground.
The Major, like a prudent man, extinguished
these carefully,
for a spark would be enough to kindle a
tremendous conflagration
in this forest of dry trees.
"The convicts have disappeared!"
said John Mangles.
"Yes," replied the Major; "=
and
the disappearance of them
makes me uneasy. I prefer seeing them face to face.=
Better to meet a tiger on the plain than a
serpent in the grass.
Let us beat the bushes all round the
wagon."
The Major and John hunted all round the
country, but there was not a
convict to be seen from the edge of the wo=
od
right down to the river.
Ben Joyce and his gang seemed to have flown
away like a flock of
marauding birds. It was too sudden a disappearance =
to let
the travelers
feel perfectly safe; consequently they
resolved to keep a sharp lookout.
The wagon, a regular fortress buried in mu=
d, was
made the center
of the camp, and two men mounted guard rou=
nd
it, who were relieved
hour by hour.
The first care of Lady Helena and Mary was=
to
dress Glenarvan's wound.
Lady Helena rushed toward him in terror, a=
s he
fell
down struck by Ben Joyce's ball. Controlling her agony,
the courageous woman helped her husband in=
to
the wagon.
Then his shoulder was bared, and the Major
found, on examination,
that the ball had only gone into the flesh,
and there was no
internal lesion. Neither bone nor muscle appeared t=
o be
injured.
The wound bled profusely, but Glenarvan co=
uld
use his fingers
and forearm; and consequently there was no
occasion for any
uneasiness about the issue. As soon as his shoulder was dresse=
d,
he would not allow any more fuss to be made
about himself,
but at once entered on the business in han=
d.
All the party, except Mulrady and Wilson, =
who
were on guard,
were brought into the wagon, and the Major=
was
asked to explain
how this DENOUEMENT had come about.
Before commencing his recital, he told Lady
Helena about the escape
of the convicts at Perth, and their appear=
ance
in Victoria;
as also their complicity in the railway
catastrophe.
He handed her the Australian and New Zeala=
nd
Gazette
they had bought in Seymour, and added that=
a
reward had been
offered by the police for the apprehension=
of
Ben Joyce,
a redoubtable bandit, who had become a not=
ed
character during
the last eighteen months, for doing deeds =
of
villainy and crime.
But how had McNabbs found out that Ayrton =
and
Ben Joyce were one
and the same individual? This was the mystery to be unravel=
ed,
and the Major soon explained it.
Ever since their first meeting, McNabbs had
felt an instinctive
distrust of the quartermaster. Two or three insignificant facts,<= o:p>
a hasty glance exchanged between him and t=
he
blacksmith at
the Wimerra River, his unwillingness to cr=
oss
towns and villages,
his persistence about getting the DUNCAN
summoned to the coast,
the strange death of the animals entrusted=
to
his care, and, lastly,
a want of frankness in all his behavior--a=
ll
these details combined
had awakened the Major's suspicions.
However, he could not have brought any dir=
ect
accusation against
him till the events of the preceding eveni=
ng
had occurred.
He then told of his experience.
McNabbs, slipping between the tall shrubs,=
got
within reach of
the suspicious shadows he had noticed about
half a mile away from
the encampment. The phosphorescent furze emitted a=
faint
light,
by which he could discern three men examin=
ing
marks on the ground,
and one of the three was the blacksmith of
Black Point.
"'It is them!' said one of the men. 'Yes,' replied another,
'there is the trefoil on the mark of the
horseshoe. It has
been like that since the Wimerra.' 'All the horses are dead.'
'The poison is not far off.' 'There is enough to kill a regimen=
t
of cavalry.' 'A useful plant this gastrolobium.=
'
"I heard them say this to each other,=
and
then they
were quite silent; but I did not know enou=
gh
yet,
so I followed them. Soon the conversation began again.=
'He is a clever fellow, this Ben Joyce,' s=
aid
the blacksmith.
'A capital quartermaster, with his inventi=
on
of shipwreck.'
'If his project succeeds, it will be a str=
oke
of fortune.'
'He is a very devil, is this Ayrton.' 'Call him Ben Joyce,
for he has well earned his name.' And then the scoundrels
left the forest.
"I had all the information I wanted n=
ow,
and came back to the camp
quite convinced, begging Paganel's pardon,
that Australia does
not reform criminals."
This was all the Major's story, and his
companions sat silently
thinking over it.
"Then Ayrton has dragged us here,&quo=
t;
said Glenarvan, pale with anger,
"on purpose to rob and assassinate
us."
"For nothing else," replied the
Major; "and ever since we left
the Wimerra, his gang has been on our track
and spying on us,
waiting for a favorable opportunity."=
"Yes."
"Then the wretch was never one of the
sailors on the BRITANNIA;
he had stolen the name of Ayrton and the
shipping papers."
They were all looking at McNabbs for an
answer, for he must have put
the question to himself already.
"There is no great certainty about the
matter," he replied,
in his usual calm voice; "but in my
opinion the man's name
is really Ayrton. Ben Joyce is his nom de guerre.
It is an incontestible fact that he knew H=
arry
Grant, and also that
he was quartermaster on the BRITANNIA. These facts were proved
by the minute details given us by Ayrton, =
and
are corroborated
by the conversation between the convicts,
which I repeated to you.
We need not lose ourselves in vain
conjectures, but consider it
as certain that Ben Joyce is Ayrton, and t=
hat
Ayrton is Ben Joyce;
that is to say, one of the crew of the
BRITANNIA has turned
leader of the convict gang."
The explanations of McNabbs were accepted
without discussion.
"Now, then," said Glenarvan,
"will you tell us how and why
Harry Grant's quartermaster comes to be in
Australia?"
"How, I don't know," replied
McNabbs; "and the police declare they are
as ignorant on the subject as myself. Why, it is impossible to say;
that is a mystery which the future may
explain."
"The police are not even aware of
Ayrton's identity with Ben Joyce,"
said John Mangles.
"You are right, John," replied t=
he
Major, "and this circumstance
would throw light on their search."
"Then, I suppose," said Lady Hel=
ena,
"the wicked wretch had got
work on Paddy O'Moore's farm with a crimin=
al
intent?"
"There is not the least doubt of it.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> He was planning some evil
design against the Irishman, when a better
chance presented itself.
Chance led us into his presence. He heard Paganel's story
and all about the shipwreck, and the audac=
ious
fellow determined
to act his part immediately. The expedition was decided on.
At the Wimerra he found means of communica=
ting
with one of his gang,
the blacksmith of Black Point, and left tr=
aces
of our journey
which might be easily recognized. The gang followed us.
A poisonous plant enabled them gradually to
kill our bullocks and horses.
At the right moment he sunk us in the mars=
hes
of the Snowy,
and gave us into the hands of his gang.&qu=
ot;
Such was the history of Ben Joyce. The Major had shown
him up in his character--a bold and formid=
able
criminal.
His manifestly evil designs called for the
utmost vigilance
on the part of Glenarvan. Happily the unmasked bandit was le=
ss
to be feared than the traitor.
But one serious consequence must come out =
of
this revelation;
no one had thought of it yet except Mary
Grant. John Mangles
was the first to notice her pale, despairi=
ng
face; he understood
what was passing in her mind at a glance.<= o:p>
"Miss Mary! Miss Mary!" he cried; "y=
ou are
crying!"
"Crying, my child!" said Lady
Helena.
"My father, madam, my father!"
replied the poor girl.
She could say no more, but the truth flash=
ed
on every mind.
They all knew the cause of her grief, and =
why
tears fell from
her eyes and her father's name came to her
lips.
The discovery of Ayrton's treachery had
destroyed all hope; the convict
had invented a shipwreck to entrap
Glenarvan. In the conversatio=
n
overheard by McNabbs, the convicts had pla=
inly
said that the BRITANNIA
had never been wrecked on the rocks in Two=
fold
Bay. Harry Grant had
never set foot on the Australian continent=
!
A second time they had been sent on the wr=
ong
track by an erroneous
interpretation of the document. Gloomy silence fell on the whole
party at the sight of the children's sorro=
w,
and no one could find
a cheering word to say. Robert was crying in his sister's =
arms.
Paganel muttered in a tone of vexation:
It may boast of having half-crazed a dozen
peoples' wits!" The wort=
hy
geographer was in such a rage with himself,
that he struck his forehead
as if he would smash it in.
Glenarvan went out to Mulrady and Wilson, =
who
were keeping watch.
Profound silence reigned over the plain
between the wood and the river.
Ben Joyce and his band must be at consider=
able
distance,
for the atmosphere was in such a state of
complete torpor
that the slightest sound would have been
heard. It was evident,
from the flocks of birds on the lower bran=
ches
of the trees,
and the kangaroos feeding quietly on the y=
oung
shoots, and a couple
of emus whose confiding heads passed betwe=
en
the great clumps of bushes,
that those peaceful solitudes were untroub=
led
by the presence
of human beings.
"You have neither seen nor heard anyt=
hing
for the last hour?"
said Glenarvan to the two sailors.
"Nothing whatever, your honor,"
replied Wilson. "The con=
victs
must
be miles away from here."
"They were not in numbers enough to
attack us, I suppose,"
added Mulrady. "Ben Joyce will have gone to
recruit his party,
with some bandits like himself, among the
bush-rangers who may
be lurking about the foot of the Alps.&quo=
t;
"That is probably the case,
Mulrady," replied Glenarvan.
"The rascals
are cowards; they know we are armed, and w=
ell
armed too.
Perhaps they are waiting for nightfall to
commence the attack.
We must redouble our watchfulness. Oh, if we could only get out of
this bog, and down the coast; but this swo=
llen
river bars our passage.
I would pay its weight in gold for a raft
which would carry us
over to the other side."
"Why does not your honor give orders =
for
a raft to be constructed?
We have plenty of wood."
"No, Wilson," replied Glenarvan;
"this Snowy is not a river,
it is an impassable torrent."
John Mangles, the Major, and Paganel just =
then
came out of the wagon
on purpose to examine the state of the
river. They found it still
so swollen by the heavy rain that the water
was a foot above the level.
It formed an impetuous current, like the
American rapids.
To venture over that foaming current and t=
hat
rushing flood,
broken into a thousand eddies and hollows =
and
gulfs, was impossible.
John Mangles declared the passage
impracticable. "But we
must not stay here," he added,
"without attempting anything.
What we were going to do before Ayrton's
treachery is still
more necessary now."
"What do you mean, John?" asked
Glenarvan.
"I mean that our need is urgent, and =
that
since we cannot go
to Twofold Bay, we must go to Melbourne. We have still one horse.
Give it to me, my Lord, and I will go to
Melbourne."
"But that will be a dangerous venture,
John," said Glenarvan.
"Not to
speak of the perils of a journey of two
hundred miles over an unknown
country, the road and the by-ways will be
guarded by the accomplices
of Ben Joyce."
"I know it, my Lord, but I know also =
that
things can't stay long
as they are; Ayrton only asked a week's
absence to fetch the crew
of the DUNCAN, and I will be back to the S=
nowy
River in six days.
Well, my Lord, what are your commands?&quo=
t;
"Before Glenarvan decides," said
Paganel, "I must make an observation.
That some one must go to Melbourne is evid=
ent,
but that John Mangles
should be the one to expose himself to the
risk, cannot be.
He is the captain of the DUNCAN, and must =
be
careful of his life.
I will go instead."
"That is all very well, Paganel,"
said the Major; "but why should you
be the one to go?"
"Are we not here?" said Mulrady =
and
Wilson.
"And do you think," replied McNa=
bbs,
"that a journey of two hundred
miles on horseback frightens me."
"Friends," said Glenarvan, "=
;one
of us must go, so let it be decided
by drawing lots. Write all our names, Paganel."=
;
"Not yours, my Lord," said John
Mangles.
"And why not?"
"What! separate you from Lady Helena,=
and
before your wound
is healed, too!"
"Glenarvan," said Paganel, "=
;you
cannot leave the expedition."
"No," added the Major. "Your place is here, Edward, =
you
ought
not to go."
"Danger is involved in it," said
Glenarvan, "and I will take my share
along with the rest. Write the names, Paganel, and put =
mine
among them,
and I hope the lot may fall on me."
His will was obeyed. The names were written, and the lo=
ts
drawn.
Fate fixed on Mulrady. The brave sailor shouted hurrah! a=
nd
said:
"My Lord, I am ready to start."<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Glenarvan pressed his hand, and th=
en
went back to the wagon, leaving John Mangl=
es
and the Major on watch.
Lady Helena was informed of the determinat=
ion
to send a message
to Melbourne, and that they had drawn lots=
who
should go,
and Mulrady had been chosen. Lady Helena said a few kind
words to the brave sailor, which went stra=
ight
to his heart.
Fate could hardly have chosen a better man,
for he was not only
brave and intelligent, but robust and supe=
rior
to all fatigue.
Mulrady's departure was fixed for eight
o'clock, immediately after
the short twilight. Wilson undertook to get the horse =
ready.
He had a project in his head of changing t=
he
horse's left shoe,
for one off the horses that had died in the
night. This would
prevent the convicts from tracking Mulrady=
, or
following him,
as they were not mounted.
While Wilson was arranging this, Glenarvan=
got
his letter ready
for Tom Austin, but his wounded arm troubl=
ed
him, and he asked
Paganel to write it for him. The SAVANT was so absorbed in one<= o:p>
fixed idea that he seemed hardly to know w=
hat
he was about.
In all this succession of vexations, it mu=
st
be said
the document was always uppermost in Pagan=
el's
mind.
He was always worrying himself about each
word, trying to discover
some new meaning, and losing the wrong
interpretation of it,
and going over and over himself in
perplexities.
He did not hear Glenarvan when he first sp=
oke,
but on the request
being made a second time, he said: "Ah, very well. I'm ready."
While he spoke he was mechanically getting
paper from his note-book.
He tore a blank page off, and sat down pen=
cil
in hand to write.
Glenarvan began to dictate as follows: "Order to
Tom Austin, Chief Officer, to get to sea
without delay,
and bring the DUNCAN to--"
Paganel was just finishing the last word, =
when
his eye chanced to fall
on the Australian and New Zealand Gazette
lying on the ground.
The paper was so folded that only the last=
two
syllables of the title
were visible. Paganel's pencil stopped, and he s=
eemed
to become oblivious
of Glenarvan and the letter entirely, till=
his
friends called out:
"Come, Paganel!"
"Ah!" said the geographer, with a
loud exclamation.
"What is the matter?" asked the
Major.
"Nothing, nothing," replied
Paganel. Then he muttered to
himself,
"Aland! aland! aland!"
He had got up and seized the newspaper.
to keep back the words that involuntarily =
rose
to his lips.
Lady Helena, Mary, Robert, and Glenarvan g=
azed
at him in astonishment,
at a loss to understand this unaccountable
agitation.
Paganel looked as if a sudden fit of insan=
ity
had come over him.
But his excitement did not last. He became by degrees calmer.
The gleam of joy that shone in his eyes di=
ed
away.
He sat down again, and said quietly:
"When you please, my Lord, I am
ready." Glenarvan resume=
d
his dictation at once, and the letter was =
soon
completed.
It read as follows: "Order to Tom Austin to go to=
sea
without delay;
and take the DUNCAN to Melbourne by the 37=
th
degree of latitude
to the eastern coast of Australia."
"Of Australia?" said Paganel.
Then he finished the letter, and gave it to
Glenarvan to sign,
who went through the necessary formality as
well as he could,
and closed and sealed the letter. Paganel, whose hand still
trembled with emotion, directed it thus: "Tom Austin, Chief Officer
on board the Yacht DUNCAN, Melbourne."=
;
Then he got up and went out of the wagon,
gesticulating and repeating
the incomprehensible words:
"Aland aland! aland!"
THE rest of the day passed on without any
further incident.
All the preparations for Mulrady's journey
were completed,
and the brave sailor rejoiced in being abl=
e to
give his Lordship
this proof of devotion.
Paganel had recovered his usual sang-froid=
and
manners. His look,
indeed, betrayed his preoccupation, but he
seemed resolved to keep
it secret. No doubt he had strong reasons for=
this
course of action,
for the Major heard him repeating, like a =
man
struggling with himself:
"No, no, they would not believe it; a=
nd,
besides, what good would it be?
It is too late!"
Having taken this resolution, he busied
himself with giving
Mulrady the necessary directions for getti=
ng
to Melbourne,
and showed him his way on the map. All the TRACKS, that is to say,
paths through the prairie, came out on the
road to Lucknow. This road,
after running right down to the coast took=
a
sudden bend in the direction
of Melbourne. This was the route that must be fo=
llowed
steadily,
for it would not do to attempt a short cut
across an almost
unknown country. Nothing, consequently, could be mo=
re
simple.
Mulrady could not lose his way.
As to dangers, there were none after he had
gone a few miles beyond
the encampment, out of the reach of Ben Jo=
yce
and his gang.
Once past their hiding place, Mulrady was
certain of soon
being able to outdistance the convicts, and
execute his
important mission successfully.
At six o'clock they all dined together.
falling in torrents. The tent was not protection enough=
,
and the whole party had to take refuge in =
the
wagon.
This was a sure refuge. The clay kept it firmly imbedded
in the soil, like a fortress resting on su=
re
foundations.
The arsenal was composed of seven carbines=
and
seven revolvers,
and could stand a pretty long siege, for t=
hey
had plenty
of ammunition and provisions. But before six days were over,
the DUNCAN would anchor in Twofold Bay, and
twenty-four hours
after her crew would reach the other shore=
of
the Snowy River;
and should the passage still remain
impracticable, the convicts at
any rate would be forced to retire before =
the
increased strength.
But all depended on Mulrady's success in h=
is
perilous enterprise.
At eight o'clock it got very dark; now was=
the
time to start.
The horse prepared for Mulrady was brought
out. His feet,
by way of extra precaution, were wrapped r=
ound
with cloths,
so that they could not make the least nois=
e on
the ground.
The animal seemed tired, and yet the safet=
y of
all depended
on his strength and surefootedness. The Major advised Mulrady
to let him go gently as soon as he got past
the convicts.
Better delay half-a-day than not arrive
safely.
John Mangles gave his sailor a revolver, w=
hich
he had loaded
with the utmost care. This is a formidable weapon in the=
hand
of a man who does not tremble, for six sho=
ts
fired in a few
seconds would easily clear a road infested
with criminals.
Mulrady seated himself in the saddle ready=
to
start.
"Here is the letter you are to give to
Tom Austin,"
said Glenarvan. "Don't let him lose an hour.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> He is to sail
for Twofold Bay at once; and if he does not
find us there,
if we have not managed to cross the Snowy,=
let
him come on to us
without delay. Now go, my brave sailor, and God b=
e with
you."
He shook hands with him, and bade him good=
-by;
and so did Lady Helena
and Mary Grant. A more timorous man than the sailor
would have
shrunk back a little from setting out on s=
uch
a dark, raining night
on an errand so full of danger, across vast
unknown wilds.
But his farewells were calmly spoken, and =
he
speedily disappeared
down a path which skirted the wood.
At the same moment the gusts of wind redou=
bled
their violence.
The high branches of the eucalyptus clatte=
red
together noisily,
and bough after bough fell on the wet
ground. More than one great t=
ree,
with no living sap, but still standing
hitherto, fell with a crash
during this storm. The wind howled amid the cracking =
wood,
and mingled its moans with the ominous roa=
ring
of the rain.
The heavy clouds, driving along toward the
east, hung on the ground
like rays of vapor, and deep, cheerless gl=
oom
intensified the horrors
of the night.
The travelers went back into the wagon
immediately Mulrady had gone.
Lady Helena, Mary Grant, Glenarvan and Pag=
anel
occupied
the first compartment, which had been
hermetically closed.
The second was occupied by Olbinett, Wilson
and Robert. The Major
and John Mangles were on duty outside. This precaution was necessary,
for an attack on the part of the convicts
would be easy enough,
and therefore probable enough.
The two faithful guardians kept close watc=
h,
bearing
philosophically the rain and wind that bea=
t on
their faces.
They tried to pierce through the darkness =
so
favorable to ambushes,
for nothing could be heard but the noise of
the tempest,
the sough of the wind, the rattling branch=
es,
falling trees,
and roaring of the unchained waters.
At times the wind would cease for a few
moments, as if to take breath.
Nothing was audible but the moan of the Sn=
owy
River, as it flowed
between the motionless reeds and the dark
curtain of gum trees.
The silence seemed deeper in these momenta=
ry
lulls, and the Major
and John Mangles listened attentively.
During one of these calms a sharp whistle
reached them.
John Mangles went hurriedly up to the
Major. "You heard that?&=
quot;
he asked.
"Yes," said McNabbs. "Is it man or beast?"
"A man," replied John Mangles.
And then both listened. The mysterious whistle was repeate=
d,
and answered by a kind of report, but almo=
st
indistinguishable,
for the storm was raging with renewed
violence.
McNabbs and John Mangles could not hear
themselves speak.
They went for comfort under the shelter of=
the
wagon.
At this moment the leather curtains were
raised and Glenarvan
rejoined his two companions. He too had heard this
ill-boding whistle, and the report which
echoed under the tilt.
"Which way was it?" asked he.
"There," said John, pointing to =
the
dark track in the direction
taken by Mulrady.
"How far?"
"The wind brought it; I should think,
three or four miles, at least."
"Come," said Glenarvan, putting =
his
gun on his shoulder.
"No," said the Major. "It is a decoy to get us away=
from
the wagon."
"But if Mulrady has even now fallen
beneath the blows of these rascals?"
exclaimed Glenarvan, seizing McNabbs by the
hand.
"We shall know by to-morrow," sa=
id
the Major, coolly, determined to
prevent Glenarvan from taking a step which=
was
equally rash and futile.
"You cannot leave the camp, my
Lord," said John. "=
I will
go alone."
"You will do nothing of the kind!&quo=
t;
cried McNabbs, energetically.
"Do you want to have us killed one by=
one
to diminish our force,
and put us at the mercy of these
wretches? If Mulrady has fall=
en
a victim to them, it is a misfortune that =
must
not be repeated.
Mulrady was sent, chosen by chance. If the lot had fallen to me,
I should have gone as he did; but I should
neither have asked
nor expected assistance."
In restraining Glenarvan and John Mangles,=
the
Major was right
in every aspect of the case. To attempt to follow the sailor,
to run in the darkness of night among the
convicts in their
leafy ambush was madness, and more than
that--it was useless.
Glenarvan's party was not so numerous that=
it
could afford
to sacrifice another member of it.
Still Glenarvan seemed as if he could not
yield; his hand was always
on his carbine. He wandered about the wagon, and b=
ent a
listening
ear to the faintest sound. The thought that one of his men wa=
s
perhaps mortally wounded, abandoned to his
fate, calling in vain
on those for whose sake he had gone forth,=
was
a torture to him.
McNabbs was not sure that he should be abl=
e to
restrain him,
or if Glenarvan, carried away by his feeli=
ngs,
would not run into
the arms of Ben Joyce.
"Edward," said he, "be
calm. Listen to me as a frien=
d.
Think of Lady Helena, of Mary Grant, of all
who are left.
And, besides, where would you go? Where would you
find Mulrady? He must have been attacked two mil=
es off.
In what direction? Which track would you follow?"=
;
At that very moment, as if to answer the
Major, a cry of
distress was heard.
"Listen!" said Glenarvan.
This cry came from the same quarter as the
report, but less
than a quarter of a mile off.
Glenarvan, repulsing McNabbs, was already =
on
the track, when at
three hundred paces from the wagon they he=
ard
the exclamation:
"Help! help!"
The voice was plaintive and despairing.
toward the spot. A few seconds after they perceived=
among
the scrub a
human form dragging itself along the ground
and uttering mournful groans.
It was Mulrady, wounded, apparently dying;=
and
when his companions
raised him they felt their hands bathed in
blood.
The rain came down with redoubled violence,
and the wind raged among
the branches of the dead trees. In the pelting storm, Glenarvan,
the Major and John Mangles transported the
body of Mulrady.
On their arrival everyone got up. Paganel, Robert, Wilson and
Olbinett left the wagon, and Lady Helena g=
ave
up her compartment
to poor Mulrady. The Major removed the poor fellow's
flannel shirt,
which was dripping with blood and rain.
it was a stab in the right side.
McNabbs dressed it with great skill. He could not
tell whether the weapon had touched any vi=
tal
part.
An intermittent jet of scarlet blood flowed
from it; the patient's
paleness and weakness showed that he was
seriously injured.
The Major washed the wound first with fresh
water and then closed
the orifice; after this he put on a thick =
pad
of lint, and then
folds of scraped linen held firmly in place
with a bandage.
He succeeded in stopping the hemorrhage. Mulrady was laid on
his side, with his head and chest well rai=
sed,
and Lady Helena
succeeded in making him swallow a few drop=
s of
water.
After about a quarter of an hour, the woun=
ded
man,
who till then had lain motionless, made a
slight movement.
His eyes unclosed, his lips muttered
incoherent words,
and the Major, bending toward him, heard h=
im
repeating:
"My Lord--the letter--Ben Joyce."=
;
The Major repeated these words, and looked=
at
his companions.
What did Mulrady mean? Ben Joyce had been the attacking p=
arty,
of course; but why? Surely for the express purpose of
intercepting him,
and preventing his arrival at the DUNCAN.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> This letter--
Glenarvan searched Mulrady's pockets. The letter addressed
to Tom Austin was gone!
The night wore away amid anxiety and distr=
ess;
every moment, they feared,
would be poor Mulrady's last. He suffered from acute fever.
The Sisters of Charity, Lady Helena and Ma=
ry
Grant, never left him.
Never was patient so well tended, nor by s=
uch
sympathetic hands.
Day came, and the rain had ceased. Great clouds filled the sky still;=
the ground was strewn with broken branches;
the marly soil,
soaked by the torrents of rain, had yielded
still more;
the approaches to the wagon became difficu=
lt,
but it could
not sink any deeper.
John Mangles, Paganel, and Glenarvan went,=
as
soon as it was
light enough, to reconnoiter in the
neighborhood of the encampment.
They revisited the track, which was still
stained with blood.
They saw no vestige of Ben Joyce, nor of h=
is
band.
They penetrated as far as the scene of the
attack. Here two
corpses lay on the ground, struck down by
Mulrady's bullets.
One was the blacksmith of Blackpoint. His face, already changed
by death, was a dreadful spectacle. Glenarvan searched
no further. Prudence forbade him to wander fro=
m the
camp.
He returned to the wagon, deeply absorbed =
by
the critical
position of affairs.
"We must not think of sending another
messenger to Melbourne," said he.
"But we must," said John Mangles;
"and I must try to pass
where my sailor could not succeed."
"No, John! it is out of the
question. You have not even a=
horse
for the journey, which is full two hundred
miles!"
This was true, for Mulrady's horse, the on=
ly
one that remained,
had not returned. Had he fallen during the attack on=
his
rider,
or was he straying in the bush, or had the
convicts carried him off?
"Come what will," replied Glenar=
van,
"we will not separate again.
Let us wait a week, or a fortnight, till t=
he
Snowy falls to its
normal level. We can then reach Twofold Bay by s=
hort
stages,
and from there we can send on to the DUNCA=
N,
by a safer channel,
the order to meet us."
"That seems the only plan," said
Paganel.
"Therefore, my friends," rejoined
Glenarvan, "no more parting.
It is too great a risk for one man to vent=
ure
alone into a
robber-haunted waste. And now, may God save our poor sai=
lor,
and protect the rest of us!"
Glenarvan was right in both points; first =
in
prohibiting all
isolated attempts, and second, in deciding=
to
wait till the passage
of the Snowy River was practicable. He was scarcely thirty miles
from Delegete, the first frontier village =
of
New South Wales,
where he would easily find the means of
transport to Twofold Bay,
and from there he could telegraph to Melbo=
urne
his orders
about the DUNCAN.
These measures were wise, but how late!
Mulrady to Lucknow what misfortunes would =
have
been averted,
not to speak of the assassination of the
sailor!
When he reached the camp he found his
companions in better spirits.
They seemed more hopeful than before. "He is better! he is better!&=
quot;
cried Robert, running out to meet Lord
Glenarvan.
"Mulrady?--"
"Yes, Edward," answered Lady
Helena. "A reaction has =
set
in.
The Major is more confident. Our sailor will live."
"Where is McNabbs?" asked Glenar=
van.
"With him. Mulrady wanted to speak to him, an=
d they
must
not be disturbed."
He then learned that about an hour since, =
the
wounded man
had awakened from his lethargy, and the fe=
ver
had abated.
But the first thing he did on recovering h=
is
memory and speech was
to ask for Lord Glenarvan, or, failing him,
the Major. McNabbs seeing
him so weak, would have forbidden any
conversation; but Mulrady
insisted with such energy that the Major h=
ad
to give in.
The interview had already lasted some minu=
tes
when Glenarvan returned.
There was nothing for it but to await the
return of McNabbs.
Presently the leather curtains of the wagon
moved,
and the Major appeared. He rejoined his friends at the foo=
t
of a gum-tree, where the tent was placed.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> His face,
usually so stolid, showed that something
disturbed him.
When his eyes fell on Lady Helena and the
young girl, his glance
was full of sorrow.
Glenarvan questioned him, and extracted the
following information:
When he left the camp Mulrady followed one=
of
the paths indicated
by Paganel. He made as good speed as the darkn=
ess of
the night
would allow. He reckoned that he had gone about=
two
miles
when several men--five, he thought--sprang=
to
his horse's head.
The animal reared; Mulrady seized his revo=
lver
and fired.
He thought he saw two of his assailants fa=
ll.
By the flash he recognized Ben Joyce. But that was all.
He had not time to fire all the barrels. He felt a violent
blow on his side and was thrown to the gro=
und.
Still he did not lose consciousness. The murderers thought he was dead.=
He felt them search his pockets, and then
heard one of them say:
"I have the letter."
"Give it to me," returned Ben Jo=
yce,
"and now the DUNCAN is ours."
At this point of the story, Glenarvan could
not help uttering a cry.
McNabbs continued: "'Now you fellows,' added Ben
Joyce,
'catch the horse. In two days I shall be on board the
DUNCAN,
and in six I shall reach Twofold Bay. This is to be the rendezvous.
My Lord and his party will be still stuck =
in
the marshes of the
Snowy River. Cross the river at the bridge of K=
emple
Pier, proceed to
the coast, and wait for me. I will easily manage to get you on
board.
Once at sea in a craft like the DUNCAN, we
shall be masters of
the Indian Ocean.' 'Hurrah for Ben Joyce!' cried the
convicts.
Mulrady's horse was brought, and Ben Joyce
disappeared,
galloping on the Lucknow Road, while the b=
and
took the road
southeast of the Snowy River. Mulrady, though severely wounded,<= o:p>
had the strength to drag himself to within
three hundred paces from
the camp, whence we found him almost
dead. There," said McNab=
bs,
"is the history of Mulrady; and now y=
ou
can understand why
the brave fellow was so determined to
speak."
This revelation terrified Glenarvan and the
rest of the party.
"Pirates! pirates!" cried
Glenarvan. "My crew mass=
acred!
my DUNCAN
in the hands of these bandits!"
"Yes, for Ben Joyce will surprise the
ship," said the Major, "and then--"
"Well, we must get to the coast
first," said Paganel.
"But how are we to cross the Snowy
River?" said Wilson.
"As they will," replied
Glenarvan. "They are to =
cross
at
Kemple Pier Bridge, and so will we."<= o:p>
"But about Mulrady?" asked Lady
Helena.
"We will carry him; we will have
relays. Can I leave my crew
to the mercy of Ben Joyce and his gang?&qu=
ot;
To cross the Snowy River at Kemple Pier was
practicable, but dangerous.
The convicts might entrench themselves at =
that
point, and defend it.
They were at least thirty against seven! But there are moments when
people do not deliberate, or when they hav=
e no
choice but to go on.
"My Lord," said John Mangles,
"before we throw away our chance,
before venturing to this bridge, we ought =
to
reconnoiter,
and I will undertake it."
"I will go with you, John," said
Paganel.
This proposal was agreed to, and John Mang=
les
and Paganel prepared
to start immediately. They were to follow the course of =
the
Snowy River,
follow its banks till they reached the pla=
ce
indicated by Ben Joyce,
and especially they were to keep out of si=
ght
of the convicts,
who were probably scouring the bush.
So the two brave comrades started, well
provisioned and well armed,
and were soon out of sight as they threaded
their way among
the tall reeds by the river. The rest anxiously awaited
their return all day. Evening came, and still the scouts=
did not return. They began to be seriously alarmed=
.
At last, toward eleven o'clock, Wilson
announced their arrival.
Paganel and John Mangles were worn out with
the fatigues
of a ten-mile walk.
"Well, what about the bridge? Did you find it?" asked Glena=
rvan,
with impetuous eagerness.
"Yes, a bridge of supple-jacks,"
said John Mangles. "The
convicts
passed over, but--"
"But what?" said Glenarvan, who
foreboded some new misfortune.
"They burned it after they passed!&qu=
ot;
said Paganel.
IT was not a time for despair, but
action. The bridge at Kemple =
Pier
was destroyed, but the
and they must reach
instead of wasting time in empty words, the
next day (the 16th
of January) John Mangles and Glenarvan went
down to examine the river,
and arrange for the passage over.
The swollen and tumultuous waters had not =
gone
down the least.
They rushed on with indescribable fury.
life to battle with them. Glenarvan stood gazing with folded=
arms and downcast face.
"Would you like me to try and swim
across?" said John Mangles.
"No, John, no!" said Lord Glenar=
van,
holding back the bold,
daring young fellow, "let us wait.&qu=
ot;
And they both returned to the camp. The day passed in the most
intense anxiety. Ten times Lord Glenarvan went to l=
ook at
the river,
trying to invent some bold way of getting
over; but in vain.
Had a torrent of lava rushed between the
shores, it could not have
been more impassable.
During these long wasted hours, Lady Helen=
a,
under the
Major's advice, was nursing Mulrady with t=
he
utmost skill.
The sailor felt a throb of returning life.=
McNabbs ventured to affirm that no vital p=
art
was injured.
Loss of blood accounted for the patient's
extreme exhaustion.
The wound once closed and the hemorrhage
stopped, time and
rest would be all that was needed to compl=
ete
his cure.
Lady Helena had insisted on giving up the
first compartment
of the wagon to him, which greatly tried h=
is
modesty.
The poor fellow's greatest trouble was the
delay his condition
might cause Glenarvan, and he made him pro=
mise
that they should
leave him in the camp under Wilson's care,
should the passage
of the river become practicable.
But, unfortunately, no passage was
practicable, either that
day or the next (January 17); Glenarvan wa=
s in
despair.
Lady Helena and the Major vainly tried to =
calm
him,
and preached patience.
Patience, indeed, when perhaps at this very
moment Ben Joyce was
boarding the yacht; when the DUNCAN, loosi=
ng
from her moorings,
was getting up steam to reach the fatal co=
ast,
and each hour
was bringing her nearer.
John Mangles felt in his own breast all th=
at
Glenarvan was suffering.
He determined to conquer the difficulty at=
any
price,
and constructed a canoe in the Australian
manner, with large
sheets of bark of the gum-trees. These she=
ets
were kept
together by bars of wood, and formed a very
fragile boat.
The captain and the sailor made a trial tr=
ip
in it during the day.
All that skill, and strength, and tact, and
courage could do they did;
but they were scarcely in the current befo=
re
they were upside down,
and nearly paid with their lives for the
dangerous experiment.
The boat disappeared, dragged down by the
eddy. John Mangles
and Wilson had not gone ten fathoms, and t=
he
river was a mile broad,
and swollen by the heavy rains and melted
snows.
Thus passed the 19th and 20th of January.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The Major and Glenarvan
went five miles up the river in search of a
favorable passage,
but everywhere they found the same roaring,
rushing, impetuous torrent.
The whole southern slope of the Australian
Alps poured its liquid
masses into this single bed.
All hope of saving the DUNCAN was now at an
end. Five days had elapsed
since the departure of Ben Joyce. The yacht must be at this moment
at the coast, and in the hands of the
convicts.
However, it was impossible that this state=
of
things could last.
The temporary influx would soon be exhaust=
ed,
and the violence also.
Indeed, on the morning of the 21st, Paganel
announced that
the water was already lower. "What does it matter now?&quo=
t;
said Glenarvan. "It is too late!"
"That is no reason for our staying lo=
nger
here," said the Major.
"Certainly not," replied John
Mangles. "Perhaps tomorr=
ow the
river
may be practicable."
"And will that save my unhappy men?&q=
uot;
cried Glenarvan.
"Will your Lordship listen to me?&quo=
t;
returned John Mangles. "=
I know
Tom Austin. He would execute your orders, and =
set
out as soon as
departure was possible. But who knows whether the DUNCAN w=
as
ready
and her injury repaired on the arrival of =
Ben
Joyce. And suppose the
yacht could not go to sea; suppose there w=
as a
delay of a day,
or two days."
"You are right, John," replied
Glenarvan. "We must get =
to
Twofold Bay;
we are only thirty-five miles from
Delegete."
"Yes," added Paganel, "and
that's a town where we shall find
rapid means of conveyance. Who knows whether we shan't arrive=
in time to prevent a catastrophe."
"Let us start," cried Glenarvan.=
John Mangles and Wilson instantly set to w=
ork
to construct a canoe
of larger dimensions. Experience had proved that the bar=
k was
powerless
against the violence of the torrent, and J=
ohn
accordingly felled some
of the gum-trees, and made a rude but solid
raft with the trunks.
It was a long task, and the day had gone
before the work was ended.
It was completed next morning.
By this time the waters had visibly
diminished; the torrent had
once more become a river, though a very ra=
pid
one, it is true.
However, by pursuing a zigzag course, and
overcoming it
to a certain extent, John hoped to reach t=
he
opposite shore.
At half-past twelve, they embarked provisi=
ons
enough for a couple
of days.&=
nbsp;
The remainder was left with the wagon and the tent.
Mulrady was doing well enough to be carried
over;
his convalescence was rapid.
At one o'clock, they all seated themselves=
on
the raft, still moored
to the shore. John Mangles had installed himself=
at
the starboard,
and entrusted to Wilson a sort of oar to
steady the raft against
the current, and lessen the leeway. He took his own stand at the back,=
to steer by means of a large scull; but,
notwithstanding their efforts,
Wilson and John Mangles soon found themsel=
ves
in an inverse position,
which made the action of the oars impossib=
le.
There was no help for it; they could do
nothing to arrest the gyratory
movement of the raft; it turned round with=
dizzying
rapidity, and drifted
out of its course. John Mangles stood with pale face =
and
set teeth,
gazing at the whirling current.
However, the raft had reached the middle of
the river, about half
a mile from the starting point. Here the current was extremely str=
ong,
and this broke the whirling eddy, and gave=
the
raft some stability.
John and Wilson seized their oars again, a=
nd
managed to push it
in an oblique direction. This brought them nearer to the le=
ft
shore.
They were not more than fifty fathoms from=
it,
when Wilson's oar snapped
short off, and the raft, no longer support=
ed,
was dragged away.
John tried to resist at the risk of breaki=
ng
his own oar, too, and Wilson,
with bleeding hands, seconded his efforts =
with
all his might.
At last they succeeded, and the raft, afte=
r a
passage of more than
half an hour, struck against the steep ban=
k of
the opposite shore.
The shock was so violent that the logs bec=
ame
disunited,
the cords broke, and the water bubbled up
between.
The travelers had barely time to catch hol=
d of
the steep bank.
They dragged out Mulrady and the two dripp=
ing
ladies.
Everyone was safe; but the provisions and
firearms, except the carbine
of the Major, went drifting down with the
DEBRIS of the raft.
The river was crossed. The little company found themselve=
s
almost without provisions, thirty-five mil=
es
from Delegete,
in the midst of the unknown deserts of the
Victoria frontier.
Neither settlers nor squatters were to be =
met
with; it was
entirely uninhabited, unless by ferocious
bushrangers and bandits.
They resolved to set off without delay.
he would be a great drag on them, and he
begged to be allowed to remain,
and even to remain alone, till assistance
could be sent from Delegete.
Glenarvan refused. It would be three days before he c=
ould
reach Delegete, and five the shore--that i=
s to
say, the 26th
of January. Now, as the DUNCAN had left Melbou=
rne on
the 16th,
what difference would a few days' delay ma=
ke?
"No, my friend," he said, "I
will not leave anyone behind.
We will make a litter and carry you in
turn."
The litter was made of boughs of eucalyptus
covered with branches;
and, whether he would or not, Mulrady was
obliged to take his
place on it. Glenarvan would be the first to ca=
rry
his sailor.
He took hold of one end and Wilson of the
other, and all set off.
What a sad spectacle, and how lamentably w=
as
this expedition
to end which had commenced so well. They were no longer in search
of Harry Grant. This continent, where he was not, =
and
never
had been, threatened to prove fatal to tho=
se
who sought him.
And when these intrepid countrymen of his
should reach the shore,
they would find the DUNCAN waiting to take
them home again.
The first day passed silently and painfully. Every ten minutes<= o:p>
the litter changed bearers. All the sailor's comrades took
their share in this task without murmuring,
though the fatigue
was augmented by the great heat.
In the evening, after a journey of only fi=
ve
miles, they camped
under the gum-trees. The small store of
provisions saved from
the raft composed the evening meal. But all they had to depend
upon now was the Major's carbine.
It was a dark, rainy night, and morning se=
emed
as if it would never dawn.
They set off again, but the Major could not
find a chance of firing
a shot. This fatal region was only a desert,
unfrequented even
by animals. Fortunately, Robert discovered a
bustard's nest with a
dozen of large eggs in it, which Olbinett
cooked on hot cinders.
These, with a few roots of purslain which =
were
growing at the bottom
of a ravine, were all the breakfast of the
22d.
The route now became extremely difficult.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The sandy plains were
bristling with SPINIFEX, a prickly plant,
which is called in Melbourne
the porcupine. It tears the clothing to rags, and=
makes
the legs bleed.
The courageous ladies never complained, but
footed it bravely,
setting an example, and encouraging one and
another by word or look.
They stopped in the evening at Mount Bulla
Bulla, on the edge
of the Jungalla Creek. The supper would have been very sc=
ant,
if McNabbs had not killed a large rat, the=
mus
conditor,
which is highly spoken of as an article of
diet.
Olbinett roasted it, and it would have been
pronounced even
superior to its reputation had it equaled =
the
sheep in size.
They were obliged to be content with it,
however, and it was
devoured to the bones.
On the 23d the weary but still energetic
travelers started off again.
After having gone round the foot of the
mountain, they crossed
the long prairies where the grass seemed m=
ade
of whalebone.
It was a tangle of darts, a medley of sharp
little sticks,
and a path had to be cut through either wi=
th
the hatchet or fire.
That morning there was not even a question=
of
breakfast. Nothing could
be more barren than this region strewn with
pieces of quartz.
Not only hunger, but thirst began to assail
the travelers.
A burning atmosphere heightened their
discomfort.
Glenarvan and his friends could only go ha=
lf a
mile an hour.
Should this lack of food and water continue
till evening,
they would all sink on the road, never to =
rise
again.
But when everything fails a man, and he fi=
nds
himself without
resources, at the very moment when he feel=
s he
must give up,
then Providence steps in. Water presented itself in the
CEPHALOTES,
a species of cup-shaped flower, filled with
refreshing liquid,
which hung from the branches of
coralliform-shaped bushes.
They all quenched their thirst with these,=
and
felt new life returning.
The only food they could find was the same=
as
the natives were forced
to subsist upon, when they could find neit=
her
game, nor serpents,
nor insects. Paganel discovered in the dry bed =
of a
creek,
a plant whose excellent properties had been
frequently described
by one of his colleagues in the Geographic=
al
Society.
It was the NARDOU, a cryptogamous plant of=
the
family Marsilacea,
and the same which kept Burke and King ali=
ve
in the deserts of
the interior. Under its leaves, which resembled =
those
of the trefoil,
there were dried sporules as large as a
lentil, and these sporules,
when crushed between two stones, made a so=
rt
of flour. This was
converted into coarse bread, which stilled=
the
pangs of hunger at least.
There was a great abundance of this plant
growing in the district,
and Olbinett gathered a large supply, so t=
hat
they were sure of food
for several days.
The next day, the 24th, Mulrady was able to
walk part of the way.
His wound was entirely cicatrized. The town of Delegete was not more =
than
ten miles off, and that evening they campe=
d in
longitude 140 degrees,
on the very frontier of New South Wales.
For some hours, a fine but penetrating rain
had been falling.
There would have been no shelter from this=
, if
by chance John Mangles
had not discovered a sawyer's hut, deserted
and dilapidated to a degree.
But with this miserable cabin they were ob=
liged
to be content.
Wilson wanted to kindle a fire to prepare =
the
NARDOU bread,
and he went out to pick up the dead wood
scattered all over
the ground. But he found it would not light, t=
he
great quantity
of albuminous matter which it contained
prevented all combustion.
This is the incombustible wood put down by
Paganel in his list
of Australian products.
They had to dispense with fire, and
consequently with food too,
and sleep in their wet clothes, while the
laughing jackasses,
concealed in the high branches, seemed to
ridicule the poor unfortunates.
However, Glenarvan was nearly at the end of
his sufferings.
It was time. The two young ladies were making h=
eroic
efforts,
but their strength was hourly decreasing.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> They dragged themselves along,
almost unable to walk.
Next morning they started at daybreak. At 11 A. M. Delegete
came in sight in the county of Wellesley, =
and
fifty miles
from Twofold Bay.
Means of conveyance were quickly procured
here.
Hope returned to Glenarvan as they approac=
hed
the coast.
Perhaps there might have been some slight
delay, and after all they
might get there before the arrival of the
DUNCAN. In twenty-four
hours they would reach the bay.
At noon, after a comfortable meal, all the
travelers installed in a
mail-coach, drawn by five strong horses, l=
eft
Delegete at a gallop.
The postilions, stimulated by a promise of=
a
princely DOUCEUR,
drove rapidly along over a well-kept
road. They did not lose
a minute in changing horses, which took pl=
ace
every ten miles.
It seemed as if they were infected with
Glenarvan's zeal.
All that day, and night, too, they travele=
d on
at the rate of six
miles an hour.
In the morning at sunrise, a dull murmur f=
ell
on their ears,
and announced their approach to the Indian
Ocean. They required
to go round the bay to gain the coast at t=
he
37th parallel,
the exact point where Tom Austin was to wa=
it
their arrival.
When the sea appeared, all eyes anxiously
gazed at the offing.
Was the DUNCAN, by a miracle of Providence,
there running
close to the shore, as a month ago, when t=
hey
crossed
Cape Corrientes, they had found her on the
Argentine coast?
They saw nothing. Sky and earth mingled in the same
horizon.
Not a sail enlivened the vast stretch of
ocean.
One hope still remained. Perhaps Tom Austin had thought it<= o:p>
his duty to cast anchor in Twofold Bay, for
the sea was heavy,
and a ship would not dare to venture near =
the
shore. "To Eden!"
cried Glenarvan. Immediately the mail-coach resumed=
the
route
round the bay, toward the little town of E=
den,
five miles distant.
The postilions stopped not far from the
lighthouse, which marks
the entrance of the port. Several vessels were moored in the
roadstead,
but none of them bore the flag of Malcolm.=
Glenarvan, John Mangles, and Paganel got o=
ut
of the coach,
and rushed to the custom-house, to inquire
about the arrival
of vessels within the last few days.
No ship had touched the bay for a week.
"Perhaps the yacht has not started,&q=
uot;
Glenarvan said,
a sudden revulsion of feeling lifting him =
from
despair.
"Perhaps we have arrived first."=
John Mangles shook his head. He knew Tom Austin. His first mate
would not delay the execution of an order =
for
ten days.
"I must know at all events how they
stand," said Glenarvan.
"Better certainty than doubt."
A quarter of an hour afterward a telegram =
was
sent to the syndicate
of shipbrokers in Melbourne. The whole party then repaired
to the Victoria Hotel.
At 2 P.M. the following telegraphic reply =
was
received:
"LORD GLENARVAN, Eden.
"Twofold Bay.
"The DUNCAN left on the 16th current.=
Destination unknown.
J. ANDREWS, S. B."
The telegram dropped from Glenarvan's hand=
s.
There was no doubt now. The good, honest Scotch yacht was =
now a
pirate
ship in the hands of Ben Joyce!
So ended this journey across Australia, wh=
ich
had commenced
under circumstances so favorable. All trace of Captain Grant
and his shipwrecked men seemed to be
irrevocably lost.
This ill success had cost the loss of a sh=
ip's
crew.
Lord Glenarvan had been vanquished in the
strife; and the
courageous searchers, whom the unfriendly
elements of the Pampas
had been unable to check, had been conquer=
ed
on the Australian
shore by the perversity of man.
END OF BOOK TWO
In Search of the Castaways or The Children=
of
Captain Grant
New Zealand
IF ever the searchers after Captain Grant =
were
tempted to despair,
surely it was at this moment when all their
hopes were destroyed
at a blow. Toward what quarter of the world s=
hould
they direct
their endeavors? How were they to explore new count=
ries?
The
return to their own land was out of the
question.
Thus the enterprise of these generous Scots
had failed!
Failed! a despairing word that finds no ec=
ho
in a brave soul;
and yet under the repeated blows of adverse
fate, Glenarvan himself
was compelled to acknowledge his inability=
to
prosecute
his devoted efforts.
Mary Grant at this crisis nerved herself to
the resolution never
to utter the name of her father. She suppressed her own anguish,
when she thought of the unfortunate crew w=
ho
had perished.
The daughter was merged in the friend, and=
she
now took upon her to
console Lady Glenarvan, who till now had b=
een
her faithful comforter.
She was the first to speak of returning to
Scotland. John Mangles was
filled with admiration at seeing her so
courageous and so resigned.
He wanted to say a word further in the
Captain's interest,
but Mary stopped him with a glance, and
afterward said to him:
"No, Mr. John, we must think of those=
who
ventured their lives.
Lord Glenarvan must return to Europe!"=
;
"You are right, Miss Mary," answ=
ered
John Mangles;
"he must. Beside, the English authorities mu=
st be
informed of the fate of the DUNCAN. But do not despair.
Rather than abandon our search I will resu=
me
it alone!
I will either find Captain Grant or perish=
in
the attempt!"
It was a serious undertaking to which John
Mangles bound himself;
Mary accepted, and gave her hand to the yo=
ung
captain, as if to
ratify the treaty. On John Mangles' side it was a lif=
e's
devotion;
on Mary's undying gratitude.
During that day, their departure was final=
ly
arranged;
they resolved to reach Melbourne without
delay.
Next day John went to inquire about the sh=
ips
ready to sail.
He expected to find frequent communication
between Eden and Victoria.
He was disappointed; ships were scarce.
anchored in Twofold Bay, constituted the
mercantile fleet of the place;
none of them were bound for Melbourne, nor
Sydney, nor Point de Galle,
at any of which ports Glenarvan would have
found ships loading
for England. In fact, the Peninsular and Orient=
al
Company has
a regular line of packets between these po=
ints
and England.
Under these circumstances, what was to be
done? Waiting for a ship
might be a tedious affair, for Twofold Bay=
is
not much frequented.
Numbers of ships pass by without
touching. After due reflectio=
n
and discussion, Glenarvan had nearly decid=
ed
to follow the coast
road to Sydney, when Paganel made an
unexpected proposition.
The geographer had visited Twofold Bay on =
his
own account,
and was aware that there were no means of
transport for Sydney
or Melbourne. But of the three vessels anchored =
in the
roadstead
one was loading for Auckland, the capital =
of
the northern island
of New Zealand. Paganel's proposal was to take the=
ship
in question,
and get to Auckland, whence it would be ea=
sy
to return to Europe
by the boats of the Peninsular and Oriental
Company.
This proposition was taken into serious
consideration.
Paganel on this occasion dispensed with the
volley of arguments
he generally indulged in. He confined himself to the bare
proposition,
adding that the voyage to New Zealand was =
only
five or six days--
the distance, in fact, being only about a
thousand miles.
By a singular coincidence Auckland is situ=
ated
on the self-same parallel--
the thirty-seventh--which the explorers had
perseveringly followed
since they left the coast of Araucania.
this as an argument in favor of his scheme=
; in
fact, it was a natural
opportunity of visiting the shores of New
Zealand.
But Paganel did not lay stress on this
argument. After two mistakes,=
he probably hesitated to attempt a third
interpretation of
the document. Besides, what could he make of it?=
It said positively
that a "continent" had served as=
a
refuge for Captain Grant,
not an island. Now, New Zealand was nothing but an
island.
This seemed decisive. Whether, for this reason, or for s=
ome
other,
Paganel did not connect any idea of further
search with this
proposition of reaching Auckland. He merely observed that regular
communication existed between that point a=
nd
Great Britain,
and that it was easy to take advantage of =
it.
John Mangles supported Paganel's
proposal. He advised its adop=
tion,
as it was hopeless to await the problemati=
cal
arrival of a
vessel in Twofold Bay. But before coming to any decision,=
he thought it best to visit the ship menti=
oned
by the geographer.
Glenarvan, the Major, Paganel, Robert, and
Mangles himself,
took a boat, and a few strokes brought them
alongside the ship
anchored two cables' length from the quay.=
It was a brig of 150 tons, named the
MACQUARIE. It was
engaged in the coasting trade between the
various ports
of Australia and New Zealand. The captain, or rather
the "master," received his visit=
ors
gruffly enough.
They perceived that they had to do with a =
man
of no education,
and whose manners were in no degree superi=
or
to those of the five
sailors of his crew. With a coarse, red face, thick han=
ds,
and a broken nose, blind of an eye, and his
lips stained
with the pipe, Will Halley was a sadly bru=
tal
looking person.
But they had no choice, and for so short a
voyage it was not
necessary to be very particular.
"What do you want?" asked Will
Halley, when the strangers stepped
on the poop of his ship.
"The captain," answered John
Mangles.
"I am the captain," said
Halley. "What else do you
want?"
"The MACQUARIE is loading for Aucklan=
d, I
believe?"
"Yes. What else?"
"What does she carry?"
"Everything salable and purchasable.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> What else?"
"When does she sail?"
"To-morrow at the mid-day tide. What else?"
"Does she take passengers?"
"That depends on who the passengers a=
re,
and whether they are satisfied
with the ship's mess."
"They would bring their own
provisions."
"What else?"
"What else?"
"Yes. How many are there?"
"Nine; two of them are ladies."<= o:p>
"I have no cabins."
"We will manage with such space as ma=
y be
left at their disposal."
"What else?"
"Do you agree?" said John Mangle=
s,
who was not in the least put
out by the captain's peculiarities.
"We'll see," said the master of =
the
MACQUARIE.
Will Halley took two or three turns on the
poop, making it resound
with iron-heeled boots, and then he turned
abruptly to John Mangles.
"What would you pay?" said he.
"What do you ask?" replied John.=
"Fifty pounds."
Glenarvan looked consent.
"Very good! Fifty pounds," replied John
Mangles.
"But passage only," added Halley=
.
"Yes, passage only."
"Food extra."
"Extra."
"Agreed. And now," said Will, putting =
out
his hand, "what about
the deposit money?"
"Here is half of the passage-money,
twenty-five pounds,"
said Mangles, counting out the sum to the
master.
"All aboard to-morrow," said he,
"before noon. Whether or=
no,
I weigh anchor."
"We will be punctual."
This said, Glenarvan, the Major, Robert,
Paganel, and John Mangles
left the ship, Halley not so much as touch=
ing
the oilskin that adorned
his red locks.
"What a brute," exclaimed John.<= o:p>
"He will do," answered Paganel.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "He is a regular sea-wolf.&qu=
ot;
"A downright bear!" added the Ma=
jor.
"I fancy," said John Mangles,
"that the said bear has dealt in human
flesh in his time."
"What matter?" answered Glenarva=
n,
"as long as he commands the MACQUARIE,
and the MACQUARIE goes to New Zealand. From Twofold Bay to Auckland we
shall not see much of him; after Auckland =
we
shall see him no more."
Lady Helena and Mary Grant were delighted =
to
hear that their departure
was arranged for to-morrow. Glenarvan warn=
ed
them that the MACQUARIE
was inferior in comfort to the DUNCAN. But after what they
had gone through, they were indifferent to
trifling annoyances.
Wilson was told off to arrange the
accommodation on board
the MACQUARIE. Under his busy brush and broom thi=
ngs
soon
changed their aspect.
Will Halley shrugged his shoulders, and let
the sailor have his way.
Glenarvan and his party gave him no
concern. He neither knew,
nor cared to know, their names. His new freight represented fifty
pounds,
and he rated it far below the two hundred =
tons
of cured hides which were
stowed away in his hold. Skins first, men after. He was a merchant.
As to his sailor qualification, he was sai=
d to
be skillful enough
in navigating these seas, whose reefs make
them very dangerous.
As the day drew to a close, Glenarvan had a
desire to go again to the
point on the coast cut by the 37th
parallel. Two motives prompte=
d him.
He wanted to examine once more the presumed
scene of the wreck.
Ayrton had certainly been quartermaster on=
the
BRITANNIA, and the
BRITANNIA might have been lost on this par=
t of
the Australian coast;
on the east coast if not on the west. It would not do to leave without
thorough investigation, a locality which t=
hey
were never to revisit.
And then, failing the BRITANNIA, the DUNCAN
certainly had fallen
into the hands of the convicts. Perhaps there had been a fight?
There might yet be found on the coast trac=
es
of a struggle,
a last resistance. If the crew had perished among the
waves,
the waves probably had thrown some bodies =
on
the shore.
Glenarvan, accompanied by his faithful Joh=
n,
went to carry out the
final search. The landlord of the Victoria Hotel=
lent
them two horses,
and they set out on the northern road that
skirts Twofold Bay.
It was a melancholy journey. Glenarvan and Captain John trotted=
along without speaking, but they understood
each other.
The same thoughts, the same anguish harrow=
ed
both their hearts.
They looked at the sea-worn rocks; they ne=
eded
no words of question
or answer. John's well-tried zeal and intelli=
gence
were a guarantee
that every point was scrupulously examined,
the least likely places,
as well as the sloping beaches and sandy
plains where even the slight
tides of the Pacific might have thrown some
fragments of wreck.
But no indication was seen that could sugg=
est
further search
in that quarter--all trace of the wreck
escaped them still.
As to the DUNCAN, no trace either. All that part of Australia,
bordering the ocean, was desert.
Still John Mangles discovered on the skirt=
s of
the shore evident
traces of camping, remains of fires recent=
ly
kindled under solitary
Myall-trees. Had a tribe of wandering blac=
ks
passed that way lately?
No, for Glenarvan saw a token which furnis=
hed
incontestable proof
that the convicts had frequented that part=
of
the coast.
This token was a grey and yellow garment w=
orn
and patched,
an ill-omened rag thrown down at the foot =
of a
tree. It bore
the convict's original number at the Perth
Penitentiary. The felon
was not there, but his filthy garments
betrayed his passage.
This livery of crime, after having clothed
some miscreant,
was now decaying on this desert shore.
"You see, John," said Glenarvan,
"the convicts got as far as here!
and our poor comrades of the DUNCAN--"=
;
"Yes," said John, in a low voice,
"they never landed, they perished!"
"Those wretches!" cried
Glenarvan. "If ever they=
fall
into my hands
I will avenge my crew--"
Grief had hardened Glenarvan's features. For some minutes
he gazed at the expanse before him, as if
taking a last look at
some ship disappearing in the distance.
he recovered himself in a moment, and with=
out
a word or look,
set off at a gallop toward Eden.
The wanderers passed their last evening sa=
dly
enough. Their thoughts
recalled all the misfortunes they had
encountered in this country.
They remembered how full of well-warranted
hope they had been at
Cape Bernouilli, and how cruelly disappoin=
ted
at Twofold Bay!
Paganel was full of feverish agitation.
who had watched him since the affair at Sn=
owy
River, felt that
the geographer was hesitating whether to s=
peak
or not to speak.
A thousand times he had pressed him with
questions, and failed
in obtaining an answer.
But that evening, John, in lighting him to=
his
room, asked him
why he was so nervous.
"Friend John," said Paganel, eva=
sively,
"I am not more nervous
to-night than I always am."
"Mr. Paganel," answered John,
"you have a secret that chokes you."
"Well!" cried the geographer,
gesticulating, "what can I do?
It is stronger than I!"
"What is stronger?"
"My joy on the one hand, my despair on
the other."
"You rejoice and despair at the same
time!"
"Yes; at the idea of visiting New
Zealand."
"Why! have you any trace?" asked
John, eagerly. "Have you
recovered
the lost tracks?"
"No, friend John. No one returns from New Zealand; b=
ut
still--
you know human nature. All we want to nourish hope is bre=
ath.
My device is 'Spiro spero,' and it is the =
best
motto in the world!"
NEXT day, the 27th of January, the passeng=
ers
of the
installed on board the brig. Will Halley had not offered his ca=
bin
to his lady passengers. This omission was the less to be
deplored,
for the den was worthy of the bear.
At half past twelve the anchor was weighed,
having been
loosed from its holding-ground with some
difficulty.
A moderate breeze was blowing from the
southwest.
The sails were gradually unfurled; the five
hands made slow work.
Wilson offered to assist the crew; but Hal=
ley
begged him to be
quiet and not to interfere with what did n=
ot
concern him.
He was accustomed to manage his own affair=
s,
and required
neither assistance nor advice.
This was aimed at John Mangles, who had sm=
iled
at the clumsiness
of some maneuver. John took the hint, but mentally
resolved that
he would nevertheless hold himself in
readiness in case the incapacity
of the crew should endanger the safety of =
the
vessel.
However, in time, the sails were adjusted =
by
the five sailors,
aided by the stimulus of the captain's oat=
hs.
The MACQUARIE stood out to sea on the larb=
oard
tack, under all
her lower sails, topsails, topgallants,
cross-jack, and jib.
By and by, the other sails were hoisted. But in spite
of this additional canvas the brig made ve=
ry
little way.
Her rounded bow, the width of her hold, and
her heavy stern,
made her a bad sailor, the perfect type of=
a
wooden shoe.
They had to make the best of it. Happily, five days, or,
at most, six, would take them to Auckland,=
no
matter how bad
a sailor the MACQUARIE was.
At seven o'clock in the evening the Austra=
lian
coast and the lighthouse
of the port of Eden had faded out of
sight. The ship labored
on the lumpy sea, and rolled heavily in the
trough of the waves.
The passengers below suffered a good deal =
from
this motion.
But it was impossible to stay on deck, as =
it
rained violently.
Thus they were condemned to close
imprisonment.
Each one of them was lost in his own reflections. Words were few.<= o:p>
Now and then Lady Helena and Miss Grant
exchanged a few syllables.
Glenarvan was restless; he went in and out,
while the Major
was impassive. John Mangles, followed by Robert, =
went
on the poop
from time to time, to look at the
weather. Paganel sat in his c=
orner,
muttering vague and incoherent words.
What was the worthy geographer thinking
of? Of New Zealand, the count=
ry
to which destiny was leading him. He went mentally over all his hist=
ory;
he called to mind the scenes of the past in
that ill-omened country.
But in all that history was there a fact, =
was
there a solitary
incident that could justify the discoverer=
s of
these islands
in considering them as "a
continent." Could a mode=
rn
geographer or a sailor concede to them suc=
h a
designation.
Paganel was always revolving the meaning of
the document.
He was possessed with the idea; it became =
his
ruling thought.
After Patagonia, after Australia, his
imagination, allured by
a name, flew to New Zealand. But in that direction, one point,<= o:p>
and only one, stood in his way.
"Contin--contin," he repeated,
"that must mean continent!"
And then he resumed his mental retrospect =
of the
navigators who made
known to us these two great islands of the
Southern Sea.
It was on the 13th of December, 1642, that=
the
Dutch navigator Tasman,
after discovering Van Diemen's Land, sight=
ed
the unknown shores
of New Zealand. He coasted along for several days,=
and
on the 17th
of December his ships penetrated into a la=
rge
bay, which, terminating in
a narrow strait, separated the two islands=
.
The northern island was called by the nati=
ves
Ikana-Mani, a word
which signifies the fish of Mani. The southern island was called
Tavai-Pouna-Mou, "the whale that yiel=
ds
the green-stones."
Abel Tasman sent his boats on shore, and t=
hey
returned
accompanied by two canoes and a noisy comp=
any
of natives.
These savages were middle height, of brown=
or
yellow complexion,
angular bones, harsh voices, and black hai=
r,
which was dressed
in the Japanese manner, and surmounted by a
tall white feather.
This first interview between Europeans and
aborigines seemed
to promise amicable and lasting
intercourse. But the next day=
,
when one of Tasman's boats was looking for=
an
anchorage nearer
to the land, seven canoes, manned by a gre=
at
number of natives,
attacked them fiercely. The boat capsized and filled. The quartermaster
in command was instantly struck with a
badly-sharpened spear,
and fell into the sea. Of his six companions four were ki=
lled;
the other two and the quartermaster were a=
ble
to swim to the ships,
and were picked up and recovered.
After this sad occurrence Tasman set sail,
confining his revenge to giving
the natives a few musket-shots, which prob=
ably
did not reach them.
He left this bay--which still bears the na=
me
of Massacre Bay--
followed the western coast, and on the 5th=
of
January, anchored near
the northern-most point. Here the violence of the surf, as =
well
as
the unfriendly attitude of the natives,
prevented his obtaining water,
and he finally quitted these shores, giving
them the name Staten-land
or the Land of the States, in honor of the
States-General.
The Dutch navigator concluded that these
islands were
adjacent to the islands of the same name on
the east of Terra
del Fuego, at the southern point of the
American continent.
He thought he had found "the Great
Southern Continent."
"But," said Paganel to himself,
"what a seventeenth century
sailor might call a 'continent' would never
stand for one with
a nineteenth century man. No such mistake can be supposed!
No! there is something here that baffles
me."
ON the 31st of January, four days after
starting, the
had not done two-thirds of the distance
between
and
the working of the ship; he let things take
their chance.
He seldom showed himself, for which no one=
was
sorry.
No one would have complained if he had pas=
sed
all his time
in his cabin, but for the fact that the br=
utal
captain
was every day under the influence of gin or
brandy.
His sailors willingly followed his example,
and no ship ever
sailed more entirely depending on Providen=
ce
than the MACQUARIE
did from Twofold Bay.
This unpardonable carelessness obliged John
Mangles to keep
a watchful eye ever open. Mulrady and Wilson more than once<= o:p>
brought round the helm when some careless
steering threatened
to throw the ship on her beam-ends. Often =
Will
Halley would
interfere and abuse the two sailors with a
volley of oaths.
The latter, in their impatience, would have
liked nothing better
than to bind this drunken captain, and low=
er
him into the hold,
for the rest of the voyage. But John Mangles succeeded,
after some persuasion, in calming their
well-grounded indignation.
Still, the position of things filled him w=
ith
anxiety;
but, for fear of alarming Glenarvan, he sp=
oke
only to Paganel
or the Major. McNabbs recommended the same cours=
e as
Mulrady and Wilson.
"If you think it would be for the gen=
eral
good, John," said McNabbs,
"you should not hesitate to take the
command of the vessel.
When we get to Auckland the drunken imbeci=
le
can resume his command,
and then he is at liberty to wreck himself=
, if
that is his fancy."
"All that is very true, Mr. McNabbs, =
and
if it is absolutely necessary I
will do it. As long as we are on open sea, a c=
areful
lookout is enough;
my sailors and I are watching on the poop;=
but
when we get near the coast,
I confess I shall be uneasy if Halley does=
not
come to his senses."
"Could not you direct the course?&quo=
t;
asked Paganel.
"That would be difficult," repli=
ed
John. "Would you believe=
it
that there is not a chart on board?"<= o:p>
"Is that so?"
"It is indeed. The MACQUARIE only does a coasting=
trade
between
Eden and Auckland, and Halley is so at hom=
e in
these waters
that he takes no observations."
"I suppose he thinks the ship knows t=
he
way, and steers herself."
"Ha! ha!" laughed John Mangles;
"I do not believe in ships that
steer themselves; and if Halley is drunk w=
hen
we get among soundings,
he will get us all into trouble."
"Let us hope," said Paganel,
"that the neighborhood of land will bring
him to his senses."
"Well, then," said McNabbs, &quo=
t;if
needs were, you could not sail
the MACQUARIE into Auckland?"
"Without a chart of the coast, certai=
nly
not.
The coast is very dangerous. It is a series of shallow fiords
as irregular and capricious as the fiords =
of
Norway. There are
many reefs, and it requires great experien=
ce
to avoid them.
The strongest ship would be lost if her ke=
el
struck one of those
rocks that are submerged but a few feet be=
low
the water."
"In that case those on board would ha=
ve
to take refuge on the coast."
"If there was time."
"A terrible extremity," said
Paganel, "for they are not hospitable shores,
and the dangers of the land are not less
appalling than the dangers
of the sea."
"You refer to the Maories, Monsieur
Paganel?" asked John Mangles.
"Yes, my friend. They have a bad name in these wate=
rs.
It is not a matter of timid or brutish
Australians, but of an
intelligent and sanguinary race, cannibals
greedy of human flesh,
man-eaters to whom we should look in vain =
for
pity."
"Well, then," exclaimed the Majo=
r,
"if Captain Grant had been
wrecked on the coast of New Zealand, you w=
ould
dissuade us
from looking for him."
"Oh, you might search on the
coasts," replied the geographer,
"because you might find traces of the
BRITANNIA, but not in the interior,
for it would be perfectly useless. Every European who ventures
into these fatal districts falls into the
hands of the Maories,
and a prisoner in the hands of the Maories=
is
a lost man. I have urged
my friends to cross the Pampas, to toil ov=
er
the plains of Australia,
but I will never lure them into the mazes =
of
the New Zealand forest.
May heaven be our guide, and keep us from =
ever
being thrown within
the power of those fierce natives!"
STILL this wearisome voyage dragged on.
six days from starting, the
acquaintance with the shores of
nevertheless, and blew steadily from the
southwest; but the currents
were against the ship's course, and she
scarcely made any way.
The heavy, lumpy sea strained her cordage,=
her
timbers creaked,
and she labored painfully in the trough of=
the
sea. Her standing
rigging was so out of order that it allowed
play to the masts,
which were violently shaken at every roll =
of
the sea.
Fortunately, Will Halley was not a man in a
hurry, and did not use
a press of canvas, or his masts would
inevitably have come down.
John Mangles therefore hoped that the wret=
ched
hull would reach port
without accident; but it grieved him that =
his
companions should
have to suffer so much discomfort from the
defective arrangements
of the brig.
But neither Lady Helena nor Mary Grant utt=
ered
a word of complaint,
though the continuous rain obliged them to
stay below, where the want
of air and the violence of the motion were
painfully felt.
They often braved the weather, and went on=
the
poop till
driven down again by the force of a sudden
squall.
Then they returned to the narrow space, fi=
tter
for stowing
cargo than accommodating passengers,
especially ladies.
Their friends did their best to amuse
them. Paganel tried to beguil=
e
the time with his stories, but it was a
hopeless case. Their minds
were so distracted at this change of route=
as
to be quite unhinged.
Much as they had been interested in his
dissertation on the Pampas,
or Australia, his lectures on New Zealand =
fell
on cold and
indifferent ears. Besides, they were going to this n=
ew and
ill-reputed
country without enthusiasm, without
conviction, not even of their own
free will, but solely at the bidding of
destiny.
Of all the passengers on board the MACQUAR=
IE,
the most to be
pitied was Lord Glenarvan. He was rarely to be seen below.
He could not stay in one place. His nervous organization, highly
excited,
could not submit to confinement between fo=
ur
narrow bulkheads.
All day long, even all night, regardless of
the torrents of rain
and the dashing waves, he stayed on the po=
op,
sometimes leaning
on the rail, sometimes walking to and fro =
in
feverish agitation.
His eyes wandered ceaselessly over the bla=
nk
horizon.
He scanned it eagerly during every short
interval of clear weather.
It seemed as if he sought to question the
voiceless waters; he longed
to tear away the veil of fog and vapor that
obscured his view.
He could not be resigned, and his features
expressed the bitterness
of his grief. He was a man of energy, till now h=
appy
and powerful,
and deprived in a moment of power and happiness. John Mangles bore<= o:p>
him company, and endured with him the
inclemency of the weather.
On this day Glenarvan looked more anxiousl=
y than
ever at each point
where a break in the mist enabled him to do
so. John came up to him
and said, "Your Lordship is looking o=
ut
for land?"
Glenarvan shook his head in dissent.
"And yet," said the young captai=
n,
"you must be longing to quit
this vessel. We ought to have seen the lights of
Auckland
thirty-six hours ago."
Glenarvan made no reply. He still looked, and for a moment =
his
glass
was pointed toward the horizon to windward=
.
"The land is not on that side, my
Lord," said John Mangles.
"Look more to starboard."
"Why, John?" replied Glenarvan.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "I am not looking for the
land."
"What then, my Lord?"
"My yacht! the DUNCAN," said
Glenarvan, hotly. "It mu=
st be
here
on these coasts, skimming these very waves,
playing the vile
part of a pirate! It is here, John; I am certain of =
it,
on the track of vessels between Australia =
and
New Zealand;
and I have a presentiment that we shall fa=
ll
in with her."
"God keep us from such a meeting!&quo=
t;
"Why, John?"
"Your Lordship forgets our position.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> What could we do in this ship
if the DUNCAN gave chase. We could not even fly!"
"Fly, John?"
"Yes, my Lord; we should try in
vain! We should be taken,
delivered up to the mercy of those wretche=
s,
and Ben Joyce has shown us
that he does not stop at a crime! Our lives would be worth little.
We would fight to the death, of course, but
after that!
Think of Lady Glenarvan; think of Mary
Grant!"
"Poor girls!" murmured
Glenarvan. "John, my hea=
rt is
broken;
and sometimes despair nearly masters me. I feel as if fresh
misfortunes awaited us, and that Heaven it=
self
is against us.
It terrifies me!"
"You, my Lord?"
"Not for myself, John, but for those I
love--whom you love, also."
"Keep up your heart, my Lord," s=
aid
the young captain.
"We must not look out for troubles. The MACQUARIE
sails badly, but she makes some way
nevertheless. Will Halley
is a brute, but I am keeping my eyes open,=
and
if the coast
looks dangerous, I will put the ship's hea=
d to
sea again.
So that, on that score, there is little or=
no
danger.
But as to getting alongside the DUNCAN!
And if your Lordship is bent on looking out
for her, let it
be in order to give her a wide berth."=
;
John Mangles was right. An encounter with the DUNCAN
would have been fatal to the MACQUARIE.
reason to fear such an engagement in these
narrow seas,
in which pirates could ply their trade wit=
hout
risk.
However, for that day at least, the yacht =
did
not appear,
and the sixth night from their departure f=
rom
Twofold Bay came,
without the fears of John Mangles being
realized.
But that night was to be a night of
terrors. Darkness came on alm=
ost
suddenly at seven o'clock in the evening; =
the
sky
was very threatening. The sailor instinct rose above the=
stupefaction of the drunkard and roused Wi=
ll
Halley. He left
his cabin, rubbed his eyes, and shook his
great red head.
Then he drew a great deep breath of air, as
other people swallow
a draught of water to revive themselves. He examined the masts.
The wind freshened, and veering a point mo=
re
to the westward,
blew right for the New Zealand coast.
[illustration omitted] [page intentionally
blank]
Will Halley, with many an oath, called his
men, tightened his
topmast cordage, and made all snug for the
night.
John Mangles approved in silence. He had ceased to hold any
conversation with the coarse seaman; but
neither Glenarvan nor
he left the poop. Two hours after a stiff breeze cam=
e on.
Will Halley took in the lower reef of his
topsails.
The maneuver would have been a difficult j=
ob
for five men if
the MACQUARIE had not carried a double yar=
d,
on the American plan.
In fact, they had only to lower the upper =
yard
to bring the sail
to its smallest size.
Two hours passed; the sea was rising. The MACQUARIE was struck so
violently that it seemed as if her keel had touched the rocks. There was<= o:p>
no real danger, but the heavy vessel did n=
ot
rise easily to the waves.
By and by the returning waves would break =
over
the deck in great masses.
The boat was washed out of the davits by t=
he
force of the water.
John Mangles never released his watch. Any other ship would
have made no account of a sea like this; b=
ut
with this heavy
craft there was a danger of sinking by the
bow, for the deck
was filled at every lurch, and the sheet of
water not being able
to escape quickly by the scuppers, might
submerge the ship.
It would have been the wisest plan to prep=
are
for emergency by
knocking out the bulwarks with an ax to
facilitate their escape,
but Halley refused to take this precaution=
.
But a greater danger was at hand, and one =
that
it was too late
to prevent. About half-past eleven, John Mangl=
es and
Wilson, who stayed
on deck throughout the gale, were suddenly
struck by an unusual noise.
Their nautical instincts awoke. John seized the sailor's hand.
"The reef!" said he.
"Yes," said Wilson; "the wa=
ves
breaking on the bank."
"Not more than two cables' length
off?"
"At farthest? The land is there!"
John leaned over the side, gazed into the =
dark
water, and called out,
"Wilson, the lead!"
The master, posted forward, seemed to have=
no
idea of his position.
Wilson seized the lead-line, sprang to the
fore-chains, and threw
the lead; the rope ran out between his
fingers, at the third knot
the lead stopped.
"Three fathoms," cried Wilson.
"Captain," said John, running to
Will Halley, "we are on the breakers."
Whether or not he saw Halley shrug his
shoulders is of very
little importance. But he hurried to the helm, put it=
hard
down,
while Wilson, leaving the line, hauled at =
the
main-topsail brace
to bring the ship to the wind. The man who was steering received<= o:p>
a smart blow, and could not comprehend the
sudden attack.
"Let her go! Let her go!" said the young
captain, working her to get
away from the reefs.
For half a minute the starboard side of the
vessel was turned
toward them, and, in spite of the darkness,
John could discern
a line of foam which moaned and gleamed fo=
ur
fathoms away.
At this moment, Will Halley, comprehending=
the
danger, lost his head.
His sailors, hardly sobered, could not
understand his orders.
His incoherent words, his contradictory or=
ders
showed that this
stupid sot had quite lost his self-control=
. He
was taken
by surprise at the proximity of the land,
which was eight
miles off, when he thought it was thirty or
forty miles off.
The currents had thrown him out of his
habitual track,
and this miserable slave of routine was le=
ft
quite helpless.
Still the prompt maneuver of John Mangles
succeeded in keeping
the MACQUARIE off the breakers. But John did not know the position=
.
For anything he could tell he was girdled =
in
by reefs.
The wind blew them strongly toward the eas=
t,
and at every lurch
they might strike.
In fact, the sound of the reef soon redoub=
led
on the starboard side
of the bow. They must luff again. John put the helm down again and
brought her up. The breakers increased under the b=
ow of
the vessel,
and it was necessary to put her about to
regain the open sea.
Whether she would be able to go about under
shortened sail, and badly
trimmed as she was, remained to be seen, b=
ut
there was nothing else
to be done.
"Helm hard down!" cried Mangles =
to
Wilson.
The MACQUARIE began to near the new line of
reefs:
in another moment the waves were seen dash=
ing
on submerged rocks.
It was a moment of inexpressible anxiety.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The spray
was luminous, just as if lit up by sudden
phosphorescence.
The roaring of the sea was like the voice =
of
those ancient
Tritons whom poetic mythology endowed with
life.
Wilson and Mulrady hung to the wheel with =
all
their weight.
Some cordage gave way, which endangered the
foremast.
It seemed doubtful whether she would go ab=
out
without further damage.
Suddenly the wind fell and the vessel fell
back, and turning
her became hopeless. A high wave caught her below, carr=
ied
her
up on the reefs, where she struck with gre=
at
violence.
The foremast came down with all the
fore-rigging. The brig
rose twice, and then lay motionless, heeled
over on her port
side at an angle of 30 degrees.
The glass of the skylight had been smashed=
to
powder.
The passengers rushed out. But the waves were sweeping the de=
ck
from one side to the other, and they dared=
not
stay there.
John Mangles, knowing the ship to be safely
lodged in the sand,
begged them to return to their own quarter=
s.
"Tell me the truth, John," said
Glenarvan, calmly.
"The truth, my Lord, is that we are a=
t a
standstill.
Whether the sea will devour us is another
question; but we
have time to consider."
"It is midnight?"
"Yes, my Lord, and we must wait for t=
he
day."
"Can we not lower the boat?"
"In such a sea, and in the dark, it is
impossible.
And, besides, where could we land?"
"Well, then, John, let us wait for the
daylight."
Will Halley, however, ran up and down the =
deck
like a maniac.
His crew had recovered their senses, and n=
ow
broached a cask of brandy,
and began to drink. John foresaw that if they became d=
runk,
terrible scenes would ensue.
The captain could not be relied on to rest=
rain
them;
the wretched man tore his hair and wrung h=
is
hands.
His whole thought was his uninsured
cargo. "I am ruined!
I am lost!" he would cry, as he ran f=
rom
side to side.
John Mangles did not waste time on him.
and they all held themselves in readiness =
to
resist the sailors who were
filling themselves with brandy, seasoned w=
ith
fearful blasphemies.
"The first of these wretches that com=
es
near the ladies,
I will shoot like a dog," said the Ma=
jor,
quietly.
The sailors doubtless saw that the passeng=
ers
were determined
to hold their own, for after some attempts=
at
pillage,
they disappeared to their own quarters.
more of these drunken rascals, and waited
impatiently for the dawn.
The ship was now quite motionless. The sea became gradually calmer.
The wind fell. The hull would be safe for some ho=
urs
yet.
At daybreak John examined the landing-plac=
e;
the yawl, which was
now their only boat, would carry the crew =
and
the passengers.
It would have to make three trips at least=
, as
it could
only hold four.
As he was leaning on the skylight, thinking
over the situation
of affairs, John Mangles could hear the
roaring of the surf.
He tried to pierce the darkness. He wondered how far it
was to the land they longed for no less th=
an
dreaded.
A reef sometimes extends for miles along t=
he
coast.
Could their fragile boat hold out on a long
trip?
While John was thus ruminating and longing=
for
a little light from
the murky sky, the ladies, relying on him,
slept in their little berths.
The stationary attitude of the brig insured
them some hours of repose.
Glenarvan, John, and their companions, no
longer disturbed by the noise
of the crew who were now wrapped in a drun=
ken
sleep, also refreshed
themselves by a short nap, and a profound
silence reigned on board
the ship, herself slumbering peacefully on=
her
bed of sand.
Toward four o'clock the first peep of dawn
appeared in the east.
The clouds were dimly defined by the pale
light of the dawn.
John returned to the deck. The horizon was veiled with a curt=
ain
of fog.&n=
bsp;
Some faint outlines were shadowed in the mist, but at
a considerable height. A slight swell still agitated the =
sea,
but the more distant waves were
undistinguishable in a motionless
bank of clouds.
John waited. The light gradually increased, and=
the
horizon acquired
a rosy hue. The curtain slowly rose over the v=
ast
watery stage.
Black reefs rose out of the waters. Then a line became defined
on the belt of foam, and there gleamed a
luminous beacon-light
point behind a low hill which concealed the
scarcely risen sun.
There was the land, less than nine miles o=
ff.
"Land ho!" cried John Mangles.
His companions, aroused by his voice, rush=
ed
to the poop,
and gazed in silence at the coast whose
outline lay on the horizon.
Whether they were received as friends or
enemies, that coast must
be their refuge.
"Where is Halley?" asked Glenarv=
an.
"I do not know, my Lord," replie=
d John
Mangles.
"Where are the sailors?"
"Invisible, like himself."
"Probably dead drunk, like himself,&q=
uot;
added McNabbs.
"Let them be called," said
Glenarvan, "we cannot leave them
on the ship."
Mulrady and Wilson went down to the
forecastle, and two
minutes after they returned. The place was empty!
They then searched between decks, and then=
the
hold.
But found no trace of Will Halley nor his
sailors.
"What! no one?" exclaimed Glenar=
van.
"Could they have fallen into the
sea?" asked Paganel.
"Everything is possible," replied
John Mangles, who was getting uneasy.
Then turning toward the stern: "To the boat!" said he.<= o:p>
Wilson and Mulrady followed to launch the
yawl. The yawl was gone.
WILL HALLEY and his crew, taking advantage=
of
the darkness of night
and the sleep of the passengers, had fled =
with
the only boat.
There could be no doubt about it. The captain, whose duty would have=
kept him on board to the last, had been the
first to quit the ship.
"The cowards are off!" said John
Mangles. "Well, my Lord,=
so much the better. They have spared us some trying
scenes."
"No doubt," said Glenarvan;
"besides we have a captain of our own,
and courageous, if unskillful sailors, your
companions, John. Say the
word, and we are ready to obey."
The Major, Paganel, Robert, Wilson, Mulrad=
y,
Olbinett himself,
applauded Glenarvan's speech, and ranged
themselves on the deck,
ready to execute their captain's orders.
"What is to be done?" asked
Glenarvan.
It was evident that raising the MACQUARIE =
was
out of the question,
and no less evident that she must be
abandoned. Waiting on board
for succor that might never come, would ha=
ve
been imprudence and folly.
Before the arrival of a chance vessel on t=
he
scene, the MACQUARIE
would have broken up. The next storm, or even a high tid=
e
raised by the winds from seaward, would ro=
ll
it on the sands,
break it up into splinters, and scatter th=
em
on the shore.
John was anxious to reach the land before =
this
inevitable consummation.
He proposed to construct a raft strong eno=
ugh
to carry the passengers,
and a sufficient quantity of provisions, to
the coast of New Zealand.
There was no time for discussion, the work=
was
to be set about
at once, and they had made considerable
progress when night came
and interrupted them.
Toward eight o'clock in the evening, after
supper, while Lady Helena
and Mary Grant slept in their berths, Paga=
nel
and his friends
conversed on serious matters as they walke=
d up
and down the deck.
Robert had chosen to stay with them. The brave boy listened
with all his ears, ready to be of use, and
willing to enlist
in any perilous adventure.
Paganel asked John Mangles whether the raft
could not follow the coast
as far as Auckland, instead of landing its
freight on the coast.
John replied that the voyage was impossible
with such
an unmanageable craft.
"And what we cannot do on a raft could
have been done in the ship's boat?"
"Yes, if necessary," answered Jo=
hn;
"but we should have had to sail
by day and anchor at night."
"Then those wretches who abandoned
us--"
"Oh, as for them," said John,
"they were drunk, and in the darkness
I have no doubt they paid for their coward=
ice
with their lives."
"So much the worse for them and for
us," replied Paganel;
"for the boat would have been very us=
eful
to us."
"What would you have, Paganel? The raft will bring us to
the shore," said Glenarvan.
"The very thing I would fain avoid,&q=
uot;
exclaimed the geographer.
"What! do you think another twenty mi=
les
after crossing the Pampas
and Australia, can have any terrors for us,
hardened as we
are to fatigue?"
"My friend," replied Paganel,
"I do not call in question our courage
nor the bravery of our friends. Twenty miles would be nothing
in any other country than New Zealand. You cannot suspect me
of faint-heartedness. I was the first to
persuade you to cross
America and Australia. But here the case is different.
anything is better than to venture into th=
is
treacherous country."
"Anything is better, in my
judgment," said John Mangles,
"than braving certain destruction on a
stranded vessel."
"What is there so formidable in New
Zealand?" asked Glenarvan.
"The savages," said Paganel.
"The savages!" repeated
Glenarvan. "Can we not a=
void
them
by keeping to the shore? But in any case what have we to fe=
ar?
Surely, two resolute and well-armed Europe=
ans
need not give
a thought to an attack by a handful of
miserable beings."
Paganel shook his head. "In this case there are no
miserable
beings to contend with. The New Zealanders are a powerful =
race,
who are rebelling against English rule, who
fight the invaders,
and often beat them, and who always eat
them!"
"Cannibals!" exclaimed Robert,
"cannibals?" Then t=
hey
heard him whisper,
"My sister! Lady Helena."
"Don't frighten yourself, my boy,&quo=
t;
said Glenarvan;
"our friend Paganel exaggerates."=
;
"Far from it," rejoined
Paganel. "Robert has sho=
wn
himself a man,
and I treat him as such, in not concealing=
the
truth from him."
Paganel was right. Cannibalism has become a fixed fac=
t in
New Zealand,
as it is in the Fijis and in Torres
Strait. Superstition is no do=
ubt
partly to blame, but cannibalism is certai=
nly
owing to the fact that there
are moments when game is scarce and hunger
great. The savages began by
eating human flesh to appease the demands =
of
an appetite rarely satiated;
subsequently the priests regulated and
satisfied the monstrous custom.
What was a meal, was raised to the dignity=
of
a ceremony, that is all.
Besides, in the eyes of the Maories, nothi=
ng
is more natural
than to eat one another. The missionaries often questioned<= o:p>
them about cannibalism. They asked them why they devoured<= o:p>
their brothers; to which the chiefs made
answer that fish
eat fish, dogs eat men, men eat dogs, and =
dogs
eat one another.
Even the Maori mythology has a legend of a=
god
who ate another god;
and with such a precedent, who could resist
eating his neighbor?
Another strange notion is, that in eating a
dead enemy they consume
his spiritual being, and so inherit his so=
ul,
his strength and
his bravery, which they hold are specially
lodged in the brain.
This accounts for the fact that the brain
figures in their feasts
as the choicest delicacy, and is offered to
the most honored guest.
But while he acknowledged all this, Paganel
maintained, not without
a show of reason, that sensuality, and
especially hunger,
was the first cause of cannibalism among t=
he
New Zealanders,
and not only among the Polynesian races, b=
ut
also among
the savages of Europe.
"For," said he, "cannibalism
was long prevalent among
the ancestors of the most civilized people,
and especially
(if the Major will not think me personal)
among the Scotch."
"Really," said McNabbs.
"Yes, Major," replied Paganel. "If you read certain passages=
of Saint Jerome, on the Atticoli of Scotla=
nd,
you will see
what he thought of your forefathers. And without going
so far back as historic times, under the r=
eign
of Elizabeth,
when Shakespeare was dreaming out his
Shy-lock, a Scotch bandit,
Sawney Bean, was executed for the crime of
cannibalism.
Was it religion that prompted him to canni=
balism?
No! it was hunger."
"Hunger?" said John Mangles.
"Hunger!" repeated Paganel;
"but, above all, the necessity
of the carnivorous appetite of replacing t=
he
bodily waste,
by the azote contained in animal tissues.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The lungs are
satisfied with a provision of vegetable and
farinaceous food.
But to be strong and active the body must =
be
supplied
with those plastic elements that renew the
muscles.
Until the Maories become members of the
Vegetarian Association
they will eat meat, and human flesh as mea=
t."
"Why not animal flesh?" asked
Glenarvan.
"Because they have no animals,"
replied Paganel; "and that ought
to be taken into account, not to extenuate,
but to explain,
their cannibal habits. Quadrupeds, and even birds, are ra=
re
on these inhospitable shores, so that the
Maories have always
eaten human flesh. There are even 'man-eating seasons=
,'
as there are in civilized countries hunting
seasons.
Then begin the great wars, and whole tribes
are served up
on the tables of the conquerors."
"Well, then," said Glenarvan,
"according to your mode of reasoning,
Paganel, cannibalism will not cease in New
Zealand until her pastures
teem with sheep and oxen."
"Evidently, my dear Lord; and even th=
en
it will take years to wean them
from Maori flesh, which they prefer to all
others; for the children
will still have a relish for what their
fathers so highly appreciated.
According to them it tastes like pork, with
even more flavor.
As to white men's flesh, they do not like =
it
so well, because the
whites eat salt with their food, which giv=
es a
peculiar flavor,
not to the taste of connoisseurs."
"They are dainty," said the
Major. "But, black or wh=
ite,
do they eat it raw, or cook it?"
"Why, what is that to you, Mr.
McNabbs?" cried Robert.
"What is that to me!" exclaimed =
the
Major, earnestly. "If I =
am
to make a meal for a cannibal, I should pr=
efer
being cooked."
"Why?"
"Because then I should be sure of not
being eaten alive!"
"Very good. Major," said Paganel; "b=
ut
suppose they cooked you alive?"
"The fact is," answered the Majo=
r,
"I would not give half-a-crown
for the choice!"
"Well, McNabbs, if it will comfort
you--you may as well be told--
the New Zealanders do not eat flesh without
cooking or smoking it.
They are very clever and experienced in
cookery.
For my part, I very much dislike the idea =
of
being eaten!
The idea of ending one's life in the maw o=
f a
savage! bah!"
"The conclusion of all," said Jo=
hn
Mangles, "is that we must not fall
into their hands. Let us hope that one day Christian=
ity
will abolish
all these monstrous customs."
"Yes, we must hope so," replied
Paganel; "but, believe me, a savage
who has tasted human flesh, is not easily
persuaded to forego it.
I will relate two facts which prove it.&qu=
ot;
"By all means let us have the facts,
Paganel," said Glenarvan.
"The first is narrated in the chronic=
les
of the Jesuit Society
in Brazil. A Portuguese missionary was one day
visiting
an old Brazilian woman who was very ill. She had only a few
days to live. The Jesuit inculcated the truths of
religion,
which the dying woman accepted, without
objection.
Then having attended to her spiritual want=
s,
he bethought himself
of her bodily needs, and offered her some
European delicacies.
'Alas,' said she, 'my digestion is too wea=
k to
bear any kind of food.
There is only one thing I could fancy, and
nobody here could
get it for me.' 'What is it?' asked the Jesuit.
said she, 'it is the hand of a little
boy! I feel as if I
should enjoy munching the little bones!'&q=
uot;
"Horrid! but I wonder is it so very n=
ice?"
said Robert.
"My second tale will answer you, my
boy," said Paganel: &quo=
t;One
day
a missionary was reproving a cannibal for =
the
horrible custom,
so abhorrent to God's laws, of eating human
flesh! 'And beside,'
said he, 'it must be so nasty!' 'Oh, father,' said the savage,
looking greedily at the missionary, 'say t=
hat
God forbids it!
That is a reason for what you tell us. But don't say it is nasty!
If you had only tasted it!'"
PAGANEL'S facts were indisputable. The cruelty of the New Zealanders<= o:p>
was beyond a doubt, therefore it was dange=
rous
to land.
But had the danger been a hundredfold grea=
ter,
it had to be faced.
John Mangles felt the necessity of leaving
without delay
a vessel doomed to certain and speedy
destruction.
There were two dangers, one certain and the
other probable,
but no one could hesitate between them.
As to their chance of being picked up by a
passing vessel,
they could not reasonably hope for it. The MACQUARIE was
not in the track of ships bound to New
Zealand. They keep
further north for Auckland, further south =
for
New Plymouth,
and the ship had struck just between these=
two
points,
on the desert region of the shores of
Ika-na-Mani, a dangerous,
difficult coast, and infested by desperate
characters.
"When shall we get away?" asked
Glenarvan.
"To-morrow morning at ten o'clock,&qu=
ot;
replied John Mangles. "T=
he
tide
will then turn and carry us to land."=
Next day, February 5, at eight o'clock, the
raft was finished.
John had given all his attention to the
building of this structure.
The foreyard, which did very well for moor=
ing
the anchors,
was quite inadequate to the transport of
passengers and provisions.
What was needed was a strong, manageable r=
aft,
that would
resist the force of the waves during a pas=
sage
of nine miles.
Nothing but the masts could supply suitable
materials.
Wilson and Mulrady set to work; the rigging
was cut clear,
and the mainmast, chopped away at the base,
fell over
the starboard rail, which crashed under its
weight.
The MACQUARIE was thus razed like a pontoo=
n.
When the lower mast, the topmasts, and the
royals were sawn and split,
the principal pieces of the raft were
ready. They were then joined =
to the
fragments of the foremast and the whole was
fastened securely together.
John took the precaution to place in the
interstices half a dozen empty
barrels, which would raise the structure a=
bove
the level of the water.
On this strong foundation, Wilson laid a k=
ind
of floor in open work,
made of the gratings off the hatches. The spray could then dash on
the raft without staying there, and the
passengers would be kept dry.
In addition to this, the hose-pipes firmly
lashed together formed a kind
of circular barrier which protected the de=
ck
from the waves.
That morning, John seeing that the wind wa=
s in
their favor,
rigged up the royal-yard in the middle of =
the
raft as a mast.
It was stayed with shrouds, and carried a
makeshift sail.
A large broad-bladed oar was fixed behind =
to
act as a rudder
in case the wind was sufficient to require
it. The greatest
pains had been expended on strengthening t=
he
raft to resist
the force of the waves, but the question
remained whether,
in the event of a change of wind, they cou=
ld
steer, or indeed,
whether they could hope ever to reach the
land.
At nine o'clock they began to load. First came the provisions,
in quantity sufficient to last till they
should reach Auckland,
for they could not count on the production=
s of
this barren region.
Olbinett's stores furnished some preserved
meat which remained of
the purchase made for their voyage in the
MACQUARIE. This was but a
scanty resource. They had to fall back on the coarse
viands of the ship;
sea biscuits of inferior quality, and two
casks of salt fish.
The steward was quite crestfallen.
These provisions were put in hermetically
sealed cases, staunch and safe
from sea water, and then lowered on to the
raft and strongly lashed to the
foot of the mast. The arms and ammunition were piled=
in a
dry corner.
Fortunately the travelers were well armed =
with
carbines and revolvers.
A holding anchor was also put on board in =
case
John should be unable
to make the land in one tide, and would ha=
ve
to seek moorings.
At ten o'clock the tide turned. The breeze blew gently from
the northwest, and a slight swell rocked t=
he
frail craft.
"Are we ready?" asked John.
"All ready, captain," answered
Wilson.
"All aboard!" cried John.
Lady Helena and Mary Grant descended by a =
rope
ladder,
and took their station at the foot of the =
mast
on the cases
of provisions, their companions near
them. Wilson took the helm.
John stood by the tackle, and Mulrady cut =
the
line which held
the raft to the ship's side.
The sail was spread, and the frail structu=
re
commenced its progress
toward the land, aided by wind and tide. The coast was about
nine miles off, a distance that a boat with
good oars would have
accomplished in three hours. But with a raft allowance must be =
made.
If the wind held, they might reach the lan=
d in
one tide.
But if the breeze died away, the ebb would
carry them away
from the shore, and they would be compelle=
d to
anchor and wait
for the next tide, a serious consideration,
and one that filled
John Mangles with anxiety.
Still he hoped to succeed. The wind freshened. The tide had
turned at ten o'clock, and by three they m=
ust either
make the land
or anchor to save themselves from being
carried out to sea.
They made a good start. Little by little the black line of=
the
reefs
and the yellow banks of sand disappeared u=
nder
the swelling tide.
Extreme watchfulness and perfect skill were
necessary to avoid
these submerged rocks, and steer a bark th=
at
did not readily answer
to the helm, and that constantly broke off=
.
At noon they were still five miles from
shore. A tolerably clear
sky allowed them to make out the principal
features of the land.
In the northeast rose a mountain about 2,3=
00
feet high,
whose sharply defined outline was exactly =
like
the grinning
face of a monkey turned toward the sky.
which the map gave as exactly on the 38th
parallel.
At half-past twelve, Paganel remarked that=
all
the rocks had disappeared
under the rising tide.
"All but one," answered Lady Hel=
ena.
"Which, Madam?" asked Paganel.
"There," replied she, pointing t=
o a
black speck a mile off.
"Yes, indeed," said Paganel. "Let us try to ascertain its
position,
so as not to get too near it, for the sea =
will
soon conceal it."
"It is exactly in a line with the
northern slope of the mountain,"
said John Mangles. "Wilson, mind you give it a w=
ide
berth."
"Yes, captain," answered the sai=
lor,
throwing his whole weight
on the great oar that steered the raft.
In half an hour they had made half a
mile. But, strange to say,
the black point still rose above the waves=
.
John looked attentively, and in order to m=
ake
it out,
borrowed Paganel's telescope.
"That is no reef," said he, afte=
r a
moment; "it is something floating,
which rises and falls with the swell."=
;
"Is it part of the mast of the
MACQUARIE?" asked Lady Helena.
"No," said Glenarvan, "none=
of
her timbers could have come so far."
"Stay!" said John Mangles; "=
;I
know it! It is the boat."=
;
"The ship's boat?" exclaimed
Glenarvan.
"Yes, my lord. The ship's boat, keel up."
"The unfortunate creatures," cri=
ed
Lady Helena, "they have perished!"
"Yes, Madam," replied John Mangl=
es,
"they must have perished,
for in the midst of these breakers in a he=
avy
swell on that pitchy night,
they ran to certain death."
For a few minutes the passengers were sile=
nt.
They gazed at the frail craft as they drew
near it.
It must evidently have capsized about four
miles from the shore,
and not one of the crew could have escaped=
.
"But this boat may be of use to us,&q=
uot;
said Glenarvan.
"That is true," answered John
Mangles. "Keep her up,
Wilson."
The direction was slightly changed, but the
breeze fell gradually,
and it was two hours before they reached t=
he
boat.
Mulrady, stationed forward, fended off the
blow, and the yawl
was drawn alongside.
"Empty?" asked John Mangles.
"Yes, captain," answered the sai=
lor,
"the boat is empty.
and all its seams are open. It is of no use to us."
"No use at all?" said McNabbs.
"None at all," said John Mangles=
.
"It is good for nothing but to
burn."
"I regret it," said Paganel,
"for the yawl might have taken
us to Auckland."
"We must bear our fate, Monsieur
Paganel," replied John Mangles.
"But, for my part, in such a stormy s=
ea I
prefer our raft to that
crazy boat. A very slight shock would be enoug=
h to
break her up.
Therefore, my lord, we have nothing to det=
ain
us further."
"As you think best, John."
"On then, Wilson," said John,
"and bear straight for the land."
There was still an hour before the turn of=
the
tide.
In that time they might make two miles.
almost entirely, and the raft became nearly
motionless, and soon
began to drift to seaward under the influe=
nce
of the ebb-tide.
John did not hesitate a moment.
"Let go the anchor," said he.
Mulrady, who stood to execute this order, =
let
go the anchor in five
fathoms water. The raft backed about two fathoms =
on the
line,
which was then at full stretch. The sail was taken in,
and everything made snug for a tedious per=
iod
of inaction.
The returning tide would not occur till ni=
ne
o'clock in the evening;
and as John Mangles did not care to go on =
in
the dark, the anchorage
was for the night, or at least till five
o'clock in the morning,
land being in sight at a distance of less =
than
three miles.
A considerable swell raised the waves, and
seemed to set in continuously
toward the coast, and perceiving this,
Glenarvan asked John why he did
not take advantage of this swell to get ne=
arer
to the land.
"Your Lordship is deceived by an opti=
cal
illusion,"
said the young captain. "Although the swell seems to =
carry
the waves landward, it does not really mov=
e at
all.
It is mere undulating molecular motion,
nothing more.
Throw a piece of wood overboard and you wi=
ll
see that it
will remain quite stationary except as the
tide affects it.
There is nothing for it but patience."=
;
"And dinner," said the Major.
Olbinett unpacked some dried meat and a do=
zen
biscuits.
The steward blushed as he proffered the me=
ager
bill of fare.
But it was received with a good grace, eve=
n by
the ladies,
who, however, had not much appetite, owing=
to
the violent motion.
This motion, produced by the jerking of the
raft on the cable,
while she lay head on to the sea, was very
severe and fatiguing.
The blows of the short, tumbling seas were=
as
severe as if she
had been striking on a submerged rock. Sometimes it was hard
to believe that she was not aground. The cable strained violently,
and every half hour John had to take in a
fathom to ease it.
Without this precaution it would certainly
have given way,
and the raft must have drifted to destruct=
ion.
John's anxiety may easily be understood. His cable might break,
or his anchor lose its hold, and in either
case the danger was imminent.
Night drew on; the sun's disc, enlarged by
refraction,
was dipping blood-red below the horizon. The distant waves
glittered in the west, and sparkled like
sheets of liquid silver.
Nothing was to be seen in that direction b=
ut
sky and water,
except one sharply-defined object, the hul=
l of
the MACQUARIE
motionless on her rocky bed.
The short twilight postponed the darkness =
only
by a few minutes,
and soon the coast outline, which bounded =
the
view on the east and north,
was lost in darkness.
The shipwrecked party were in an agonizing
situation on their narrow raft,
and overtaken by the shades of night.
Some of the party fell into a troubled sle=
ep,
a prey to evil dreams;
others could not close an eye. When the day dawned, the whole par=
ty
were worn out with fatigue.
With the rising tide the wind blew again
toward the land.
It was six o'clock in the morning, and the=
re
was no time to lose.
John arranged everything for resuming their
voyage, and then
he ordered the anchor to be weighed. But the anchor flukes had
been so imbedded in the sand by the repeat=
ed
jerks of the cable,
that without a windlass it was impossible =
to
detach it,
even with the tackle which Wilson had
improvised.
Half an hour was lost in vain efforts. John, impatient of delay,
cut the rope, thus sacrificing his anchor,=
and
also the possibility
of anchoring again if this tide failed to
carry them to land.
But he decided that further delay was not =
to
be thought of,
and an ax-blow committed the raft to the m=
ercy
of the wind,
assisted by a current of two knots an hour=
.
The sail was spread. They drifted slowly toward the lan=
d,
which rose in gray, hazy masses, on a
background of sky illumined
by the rising sun. The reef was dexterously avoided a=
nd
doubled,
but with the fitful breeze the raft could =
not
get near the shore.
What toil and pain to reach a coast so ful=
l of
danger when attained.
At nine o'clock, the land was less than a =
mile
off.
It was a steeply-shelving shore, fringed w=
ith
breakers;
a practicable landing-place had to be
discovered.
Gradually the breeze grew fainter, and then
ceased entirely.
The sail flapped idly against the mast,
and John had it furled. The tide alone carried the raft to=
the
shore,
but steering had become impossible, and its
passage was impeded
by immense bands of FUCUS.
At ten o'clock John found himself almost a=
t a
stand-still, not
three cables' lengths from the shore. Having lost their anchor,
they were at the mercy of the ebb-tide.
John clenched his hands; he was racked with
anxiety, and cast
frenzied glances toward this inaccessible
shore.
In the midst of his perplexities, a shock =
was
felt.
The raft stood still. It had landed on a sand-bank,
twenty-five
fathoms from the coast.
Glenarvan, Robert, Wilson, and Mulrady, ju=
mped
into the water.
The raft was firmly moored to the nearest
rocks. The ladies
were carried to land without wetting a fol=
d of
their dresses,
and soon the whole party, with their arms =
and
provisions,
were finally landed on these much dreaded =
New
Zealand shores.
GLENARVAN would have liked to start withou=
t an
hour's delay,
and follow the coast to
clouds had been gathering, and toward elev=
en
o'clock, after
the landing was effected, the vapors conde=
nsed
into violent rain,
so that instead of starting they had to lo=
ok
for shelter.
Wilson was fortunate enough to discover wh=
at
just suited their wants:
a grotto hollowed out by the sea in the
basaltic rocks.
Here the travelers took shelter with their
arms and provisions.
In the cave they found a ready-garnered st=
ore
of dried sea-weed,
which formed a convenient couch; for fire,
they lighted some
wood near the mouth of the cavern, and dri=
ed
themselves as well
as they could.
John hoped that the duration of this delug=
e of
rain would be in an
inverse ratio to its violence, but he was
doomed to disappointment.
Hours passed without any abatement of its
fury. Toward noon
the wind freshened, and increased the forc=
e of
the storm.
The most patient of men would have rebelle=
d at
such an untoward incident;
but what could be done; without any vehicl=
e,
they could not brave
such a tempest; and, after all, unless the
natives appeared on
the scene, a delay of twelve hours was not=
so
much consequence,
as the journey to Auckland was only a matt=
er
of a few days.
During this involuntary halt, the conversa=
tion
turned on the incidents
of the New Zealand war. But to understand and appreciate t=
he
critical
position into which these MACQUARIE passen=
gers
were thrown,
something ought to be known of the history=
of
the struggle which had
deluged the island of Ika-na-Mani with blo=
od.
Since the arrival of Abel Tasman in Cook's
Strait, on the 16th
of December, 1642, though the New Zealande=
rs
had often been
visited by European vessels, they had
maintained their liberty
in their several islands. No European power had thought
of taking possession of this archipelago,
which commands
the whole Pacific Ocean. The missionaries stationed at vari=
ous
points were the sole channels of Christian=
civilization.
Some of them, especially the Anglicans,
prepared the minds
of the New Zealand chiefs for submitting to
the English yoke.
It was cleverly managed, and these chiefs =
were
influenced to sign
a letter addressed to Queen Victoria to ask
her protection.
But the most clearsighted of them saw the
folly of this step;
and one of them, after having affixed his
tattoo-mark to
the letter by way of signature, uttered th=
ese
prophetic words:
"We have lost our country! henceforth=
it
is not ours;
soon the stranger will come and take it, a=
nd
we shall
be his slaves."
And so it was; on January 29, 1840, the
English corvette HERALD
arrived to claim possession.
From the year 1840, till the day the DUNCAN
left the Clyde,
nothing had happened here that Paganel did=
not
know and he was
ready to impart his information to his
companions.
"Madam," said he, in answer to L=
ady
Helena's questions,
"I must repeat what I had occasion to
remark before, that the
New Zealanders are a courageous people, who
yielded for a moment,
but afterward fought foot to foot against =
the
English invaders.
The Maori tribes are organized like the old
clans
of Scotland. They are so many great families ow=
ning a
chief,
who is very jealous of his prerogative.
are proud and brave, one tribe tall, with
straight hair,
like the Maltese, or the Jews of Bagdad; t=
he
other smaller,
thickset like mulattoes, but robust, haugh=
ty,
and warlike.
They had a famous chief, named Hihi, a real
Vercingetorix,
so that you need not be astonished that th=
e war
with the English
has become chronic in the Northern Island,=
for
in it is the famous
tribe of the Waikatos, who defend their la=
nds
under the leadership
of William Thompson."
"But," said John Mangles, "=
are
not the English in possession
of the principal points in New Zealand?&qu=
ot;
"Certainly, dear John," replied
Paganel. "After Captain =
Hobson
took
formal possession, and became governor, ni=
ne
colonies were founded at
various times between 1840 and 1862, in the
most favorable situations.
These formed the nucleus of nine provinces,
four in the North Island
and five in the southern island, with a to=
tal
population of 184,346
inhabitants on the 30th of June, 1864.&quo=
t;
"But what about this interminable
war?" asked John Mangles.
"Well," said Paganel, "six =
long
months have gone by since we
left Europe, and I cannot say what may have
happened during that time,
with the exception of a few facts which I
gathered from the newspapers
of Maryborough and Seymour during our
Australian journey.
At that time the fighting was very lively =
in
the Northern Island."
"And when did the war commence?"
asked Mary Grant.
"Recommence, you mean, my dear young
lady," replied Paganel;
"for there was an insurrection so far
back as 1845. The present
war began toward the close of 1863; but lo=
ng
before that date
the Maories were occupied in making
preparations to shake off
the English yoke. The national party among the nativ=
es
carried
on an active propaganda for the election o=
f a
Maori ruler.
The object was to make old Potatau king, a=
nd
to fix as the capital
of the new kingdom his village, which lay
between the Waikato
and Waipa Rivers. Potatau was an old man, remarkable
rather
for cunning than bravery; but he had a Pri=
me
Minister who was
both intelligent and energetic, a descenda=
nt
of the Ngatihahuas,
who occupied the isthmus before the arriva=
l of
the strangers.
This minister, William Thompson, became the
soul of the War
of Independence, and organized the Maori
troops, with great skill.
Under this guidance a Taranaki chief gathe=
red
the scattered tribes
around the same flag; a Waikato chief form=
ed a
'Land League,'
intended to prevent the natives from selli=
ng
their land
to the English Government, and warlike fea=
sts
were held
just as in civilized countries on the verg=
e of
revolution.
The English newspapers began to notice the=
se
alarming symptoms,
and the government became seriously distur=
bed
at these
'Land League' proceedings. In short, the train was laid,
and the mine was ready to explode. Nothing was wanted but the spark,<= o:p>
or rather the shock of rival interests to
produce the spark.
"This shock took place in 1860, in the
Taranaki province on the southwest
coast of Ika-na-Mani. A native had six hun=
dred
acres of land in the
neighborhood of New Plymouth. He sold them to the English Govern=
ment;
but when the surveyor came to measure the
purchased land, the chief
Kingi protested, and by the month of March=
he
had made the six hundred
acres in question into a fortified camp,
surrounded with high palisades.
Some days after Colonel Gold carried this
fortress at the head of
his troops, and that day heard the first s=
hot
fired of the native war."
"Have the rebels been successful up to
this time?"
"Yes, Madam, and the English themselv=
es
have often been
compelled to admire the courage and braver=
y of
the
New Zealanders. Their mode of warfare is of the gu=
erilla
type;
they form skirmishing parties, come down in
small detachments,
and pillage the colonists' homes. General Cameron had no
easy time in the campaigns, during which e=
very
bush had to
be searched. In 1863, after a long and sanguina=
ry
struggle,
the Maories were entrenched in strong and
fortified position
on the Upper Waikato, at the end of a chai=
n of
steep hills,
and covered by three miles of forts. The native prophets
called on all the Maori population to defe=
nd
the soil,
and promised the extermination of the pake=
kas,
or white men.
General Cameron had three thousand volunte=
ers
at his disposal,
and they gave no quarter to the Maories af=
ter
the barbarous
murder of Captain Sprent. Several bloody engagements
took place; in some instances the fighting
lasted twelve
hours before the Maories yielded to the
English cannonade.
The heart of the army was the fierce Waika=
to
tribe under
William Thompson. This native general commanded at t=
he
outset
2,500 warriors, afterward increased to 8,0=
00.
The men of Shongi
and Heki, two powerful chiefs, came to his
assistance.
The women took their part in the most tryi=
ng
labors
of this patriotic war. But right has not always might.
After severe struggles General Cameron suc=
ceeded
in subduing
the Waikato district, but empty and
depopulated, for the Maories
escaped in all directions. Some wonderful exploits were relat=
ed.
Four hundred Maories who were shut up in t=
he
fortress of Orakau,
besieged by 1,000 English, under Brigadier=
-General
Carey,
without water or provisions, refused to
surrender, but one day
at noon cut their way through the then
decimated 40th Regiment,
and escaped to the marshes."
"But," asked John Mangles, "=
;did
the submission of the Waikato
district put an end to this sanguinary
war?"
"No, my friend," replied
Paganel. "The English re=
solved
to march on
Taranaki province and besiege Mataitawa,
William Thompson's fortress.
But they did not carry it without great lo=
ss.
Just as I was leaving Paris, I heard that =
the
Governor and
the General had accepted the submission of=
the
Tauranga tribes,
and left them in possession of three-fourt=
hs
of their lands.
It was also rumored that the principal chi=
ef
of the rebellion,
William Thompson, was inclined to surrende=
r,
but the Australian
papers have not confirmed this, but rather=
the
contrary,
and I should not be surprised to find that=
at
this moment
the war is going on with renewed vigor.&qu=
ot;
"Then, according to you, Paganel,&quo=
t;
said Glenarvan, "this struggle
is still going on in the provinces of Auck=
land
and Taranaki?"
"I think so."
"This very province where the MACQUAR=
IE'S
wreck has deposited us."
"Exactly. We have landed a few miles above K=
awhia
harbor,
where the Maori flag is probably still
floating."
"Then our most prudent course would b=
e to
keep toward
the north," remarked Glenarvan.
"By far the most prudent," said
Paganel. "The New Zealan=
ders
are incensed
against Europeans, and especially against =
the
English. Therefore let
us avoid falling into their hands."
"We might have the good fortune to fa=
ll
in with a detachment
of European troops," said Lady Helena=
.
"We may, Madam," replied the
geographer; "but I do not expect it.
Detached parties do not like to go far into
the country,
where the smallest tussock, the thinnest b=
rushwood,
may conceal
an accomplished marksman. I don't fancy we shall pick up an =
escort
of the 40th Regiment. But there are mission-stations on =
this
west coast, and we shall be able to make t=
hem
our halting-places
till we get to Auckland."
ON the 7th of February, at six o'clock in =
the
morning, the signal for
departure was given by Glenarvan. During the night the rain had ceas=
ed.
The sky was veiled with light gray clouds,
which moderated the heat
of the sun, and allowed the travelers to
venture on a journey by day.
Paganel had measured on the map a distance=
of
eighty miles
between Point Kawhia and Auckland; it was =
an
eight days'
journey if they made ten miles a day. But instead of following
the windings of the coast, he thought it
better to make for a point
thirty miles off, at the confluence of the
Waikato and the Waipa,
at the village of Ngarnavahia. The "overland track" pas=
ses
that point,
and is rather a path than a road, practica=
ble
for the vehicles
which go almost across the island, from
Napier, in Hawke's Bay,
to Auckland. From this village it would be easy=
to
reach Drury,
and there they could rest in an excellent
hotel, highly recommended
by Dr. Hochstetter.
The travelers, each carrying a share of the
provisions,
commenced to follow the shore of Aotea
Bay. From prudential
motives they did not allow themselves to
straggle, and by instinct
they kept a look-out over the undulating
plains to the eastward,
ready with their loaded carbines. Paganel, map in hand,
took a professional pleasure in verifying =
the
minutest details.
The country looked like an immense prairie
which faded into distance,
and promised an easy walk. But the travelers were undeceived<= o:p>
when they came to the edge of this verdant
plain. The grass gave
way to a low scrub of small bushes bearing
little white flowers,
mixed with those innumerable tall ferns wi=
th
which the lands
of New Zealand abound. They had to cut a path across the =
plain,
through these woody stems, and this was a
matter of some difficulty,
but at eight o'clock in the evening the fi=
rst
slopes of the
Hakarihoata Ranges were turned, and the pa=
rty
camped immediately.
After a fourteen miles' march, they might =
well
think of resting.
Neither wagon or tent being available, they
sought repose beneath some
magnificent Norfolk Island pines. They had plenty of rugs which make=
good beds. Glenarvan took every possible prec=
aution
for the night.
His companions and he, well armed, were to
watch in turns, two and two,
till daybreak. No fires were lighted. Barriers of fire are a potent
preservation from wild beasts, but New Zea=
land
has neither tiger,
nor lion, nor bear, nor any wild animal, b=
ut
the Maori adequately
fills their place, and a fire would only h=
ave
served to attract
this two-footed jaguar.
The night passed pleasantly with the excep=
tion
of the attack
of the sand-flies, called by the natives,
"ngamu," and the visit
of the audacious family of rats, who exerc=
ised
their teeth
on the provisions.
Next day, on the 8th of February, Paganel =
rose
more sanguine,
and almost reconciled to the country. The Maories,
whom he particularly dreaded, had not yet
appeared, and these
ferocious cannibals had not molested him e=
ven
in his dreams.
"I begin to think that our little jou=
rney
will end favorably.
This evening we shall reach the confluence=
of
the Waipa and Waikato,
and after that there is not much chance of
meeting natives
on the way to Auckland."
"How far is it now," said Glenar=
van,
"to the confluence
of the Waipa and Waikato?"
"Fifteen miles; just about what we did
yesterday."
"But we shall be terribly delayed if =
this
interminable scrub
continues to obstruct our path."
"No," said Paganel, "we sha=
ll
follow the banks of the Waipa,
and then we shall have no obstacle, but on=
the
contrary,
a very easy road."
"Well, then," said Glenarvan, se=
eing
the ladies ready, "let us
make a start."
During the early part of the day, the thick
brushwood seriously
impeded their progress. Neither wagon nor horses could have
passed
where travelers passed, so that their
Australian vehicle was but
slightly regretted. Until practicable wagon roads are =
cut
through these
forests of scrub, New Zealand will only be
accessible to foot passengers.
The ferns, whose name is legion, concur wi=
th
the Maories in keeping
strangers off the lands.
The little party overcame many obstacles in
crossing the plains
in which the Hakarihoata Ranges rise. But before noon they
reached the banks of the Waipa, and follow=
ed
the northward
course of the river.
The Major and Robert, without leaving their
companions,
shot some snipe and partridge under the low
shrubs of the plain.
Olbinett, to save time, plucked the birds =
as
he went along.
Paganel was less absorbed by the culinary
importance of the game
than by the desire of obtaining some bird =
peculiar
to New Zealand.
His curiosity as a naturalist overcame his
hunger as a traveler.
He called to mind the peculiarities of the
"tui" of the natives,
sometimes called the mocking-bird from its
incessant chuckle,
and sometimes "the parson," in
allusion to the white cravat it
wears over its black, cassock-like plumage=
.
"The tui," said Paganel to the
Major, "grows so fat during
the Winter that it makes him ill, and prev=
ents
him from flying.
Then he tears his breast with his beak, to
relieve himself
of his fat, and so becomes lighter. Does not that seem
to you singular, McNabbs?"
"So singular that I don't believe a w=
ord
of it," replied the Major.
Paganel, to his great regret, could not fi=
nd a
single specimen, or he
might have shown the incredulous Major the
bloody scars on the breast.
But he was more fortunate with a strange
animal which, hunted by men,
cats and dogs, has fled toward the unoccup=
ied
country, and is fast
disappearing from the fauna of New
Zealand. Robert, searching li=
ke
a ferret, came upon a nest made of interwo=
ven
roots, and in it a pair of
birds destitute of wings and tail, with fo=
ur
toes, a long snipe-like beak,
and a covering of white feathers over the
whole body, singular creatures,
which seemed to connect the oviparous trib=
es
with the mam-mifers.
It was the New Zealand "kiwi," t=
he
Apteryx australis of naturalists,
which lives with equal satisfaction on lar=
vae,
insects, worms or seeds.
This bird is peculiar to the country. It has been introduced into
very few of the zoological collections of
Europe. Its graceless
shape and comical motions have always
attracted the notice
of travelers, and during the great explora=
tion
of the Astrolabe
and the Zelee, Dumont d'Urville was
principally charged by the Academy
of Sciences to bring back a specimen of th=
ese
singular birds.
But in spite of rewards offered to the
natives, he could not obtain
a single specimen.
Paganel, who was elated at such a piece of
luck, tied the two
birds together, and carried them along with
the intention of
presenting them to the Jardin des Plantes,=
in
Paris. "Presented by
M. Jacques Paganel." He mentally saw the flattering
inscription
on the handsomest cage in the gardens. Sanguine geographer!
The party pursued their way without fatigue
along the banks
of the Waipa. The country was quite deserted; no=
t a
trace
of natives, nor any track that could betray
the existence of man.
The stream was fringed with tall bushes, or
glided along
sloping banks, so that nothing obstructed =
the
view of the low
range of hills which closed the eastern en=
d of
the valley.
With their grotesque shapes, and their
outlines lost
in a deceptive haze, they brought to mind
giant animals,
worthy of antediluvian times. They might have been a herd
of enormous whales, suddenly turned to
stone. These disrupted
masses proclaimed their essentially volcan=
ic
character.
New Zealand is, in fact, a formation of re=
cent
plutonic origin.
Its emergence from the sea is constantly
increasing.
Some points are known to have risen six fe=
et
in twenty years.
Fire still runs across its center, shakes =
it,
convulses it,
and finds an outlet in many places by the
mouths of geysers
and the craters of volcanoes.
At four in the afternoon, nine miles had b=
een
easily accomplished.
According to the map which Paganel constan=
tly
referred to,
the confluence of the Waipa and Waikato ou=
ght
to be reached about
five miles further on, and there the night
halt could be made.
Two or three days would then suffice for t=
he
fifty miles which lay
between them and the capital; and if Glena=
rvan
happened to fall
in with the mail coach that plies between
Hawkes' Bay and Auckland
twice a month, eight hours would be
sufficient.
"Therefore," said Glenarvan,
"we shall be obliged to camp during
the night once more."
"Yes," said Paganel, "but I
hope for the last time."
"I am very glad to think so, for it is
very trying for Lady Helena
and Mary Grant."
"And they never utter a murmur,"
added John Mangles. "But=
I
think
I heard you mention a village at the
confluence of these rivers."
"Yes," said the geographer,
"here it is, marked on Johnston's map.
It is Ngarnavahia, two miles below the
junction."
"Well, could we not stay there for the
night? Lady Helena
and Miss Grant would not grudge two miles =
more
to find a hotel
even of a humble character."
"A hotel!" cried Paganel, "a
hotel in a Maori village! you would not find
an inn, not a tavern! This village will be a mere cluste=
r of
huts,
and so far from seeking rest there, my adv=
ice
is that you give it
a wide berth."
"Your old fears, Paganel!" retor=
ted
Glenarvan.
"My dear Lord, where Maories are
concerned, distrust is safer
than confidence. I do not know on what terms they a=
re
with
the English, whether the insurrection is
suppressed or successful,
or whether indeed the war may not be going=
on
with full vigor.
Modesty apart, people like us would be a
prize, and I must say,
I would rather forego a taste of Maori
hospitality. I think it
certainly more prudent to avoid this villa=
ge
of Ngarnavahia, to skirt
it at a distance, so as to avoid all
encounters with the natives.
When we reach Drury it will be another thi=
ng,
and there our brave
ladies will be able to recruit their stren=
gth
at their leisure."
This advice prevailed. Lady Helena preferred to pass anot=
her
night
in the open air, and not to expose her com=
panions
to danger.
Neither Mary Grant or she wished to halt, =
and
they continued
their march along the river.
Two hours later, the first shades of eveni=
ng
began to fall.
The sun, before disappearing below the wes=
tern
horizon,
darted some bright rays through an opening=
in
the clouds.
The distant eastern summits were empurpled
with the parting
glories of the day. It was like a flying salute addres=
sed
to the way-worn travelers.
Glenarvan and his friends hastened their
steps, they knew how short the
twilight is in this high latitude, and how
quickly the night follows it.
They were very anxious to reach the conflu=
ence
of the two rivers before
the darkness overtook them. But a thick fog rose from the grou=
nd,
and made it very difficult to see the way.=
Fortunately hearing stood them in the stea=
d of
sight; shortly a
nearer sound of water indicated that the
confluence was at hand.
At eight o'clock the little troop arrived =
at
the point where the Waipa
loses itself in the Waikato, with a moaning
sound of meeting waves.
"There is the Waikato!" cried
Paganel, "and the road to Auckland
is along its right bank."
"We shall see that to-morrow," s=
aid
the Major, "Let us camp here.
It seems to me that that dark shadow is th=
at
of a little clump
of trees grown expressly to shelter us.
get some sleep."
"Supper by all means," said Paga=
nel,
"but no fire;
nothing but biscuit and dried meat. We have reached this
spot incognito, let us try and get away in=
the
same manner.
By good luck, the fog is in our favor.&quo=
t;
The clump of trees was reached and all
concurred in the wish
of the geographer. The cold supper was eaten without a
sound,
and presently a profound sleep overcame the
travelers,
who were tolerably fatigued with their fif=
teen
miles' march.
THE next morning at daybreak a thick fog w=
as
clinging to the surface
of the river. A portion of the vapors that satur=
ated
the air
were condensed by the cold, and lay as a d=
ense
cloud on the water.
But the rays of the sun soon broke through=
the
watery mass and
melted it away.
A tongue of land, sharply pointed and
bristling with bushes,
projected into the uniting streams. The swifter waters of the Waipa
rushed against the current of the Waikato =
for
a quarter of a mile
before they mingled with it; but the calm =
and
majestic river soon
quieted the noisy stream and carried it off
quietly in its course
to the Pacific Ocean.
When the vapor disappeared, a boat was seen
ascending the current
of the Waikato. It was a canoe seventy feet long, =
five
broad,
and three deep; the prow raised like that =
of a
Venetian gondola,
and the whole hollowed out of a trunk of a
kahikatea.
A bed of dry fern was laid at the bottom.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> It was swiftly
rowed by eight oars, and steered with a pa=
ddle
by a man seated
in the stern.
This man was a tall Maori, about forty-five
years of age,
broad-chested, muscular, with powerfully
developed hands and feet.
His prominent and deeply-furrowed brow, his
fierce look,
and sinister expression, gave him a formid=
able
aspect.
Tattooing, or "moko," as the New
Zealanders call it, is a mark
of great distinction. None is worthy of these honorary l=
ines,
who has not distinguished himself in repea=
ted
fights.
The slaves and the lower class can not obt=
ain
this decoration.
Chiefs of high position may be known by the
finish and precision
and truth of the design, which sometimes
covers their whole
bodies with the figures of animals. Some are found to undergo
the painful operation of "moko" = five times. The more illustrious,<= o:p>
the more illustrated, is the rule of New
Zealand.
Dumont D'Urville has given some curious
details as to this custom.
He justly observes that "moko" is
the counterpart of the armorial
bearings of which many families in Europe =
are
so vain.
But he remarks that there is this
difference: the armorial bear=
ings
of Europe are frequently a proof only of t=
he
merits of the first who
bore them, and are no certificate of the
merits of his descendants;
while the individual coat-of-arms of the M=
aori
is an irrefragible proof
that it was earned by the display of
extraordinary personal courage.
The practice of tattooing, independently of
the consideration
it procures, has also a useful aspect. It gives the cu-taneous
system an increased thickness, enabling it=
to
resist the inclemency
of the season and the incessant attacks of=
the
mosquito.
As to the chief who was steering the canoe,
there could be no mistake.
The sharpened albatross bone used by the M=
aori
tattooer, had five times
scored his countenance. He was in his fifth edition, and
betrayed it
in his haughty bearing.
His figure, draped in a large mat woven of
"phormium" trimmed
with dogskins, was clothed with a pair of
cotton drawers,
blood-stained from recent combats. From the pendant lobe of his
ears hung earrings of green jade, and round
his neck a quivering
necklace of "pounamous," a kind =
of
jade stone sacred among
the New Zealanders. At his side lay an English rifle, =
and a
"patou-patou," a kind of two-hea=
ded
ax of an emerald color, and eighteen
inches long. Beside him sat nine armed warriors=
of
inferior rank,
ferocious-looking fellows, some of them
suffering from recent wounds.
They sat quite motionless, wrapped in their
flax mantles.
Three savage-looking dogs lay at their
feet. The eight rowers
in the prow seemed to be servants or slave=
s of
the chief.
They rowed vigorously, and propelled the b=
oat
against the not
very rapid current of the Waikato, with
extraordinary velocity.
In the center of this long canoe, with the=
ir
feet tied together,
sat ten European prisoners closely packed
together.
It was Glenarvan and Lady Helena, Mary Gra=
nt,
Robert, Paganel,
the Major, John Mangles, the steward, and =
the
two sailors.
The night before, the little band had
unwittingly, owing to
the mist, encamped in the midst of a numer=
ous
party of natives.
Toward the middle of the night they were
surprised in their sleep,
were made prisoners, and carried on board =
the
canoe. They had not been
ill-treated, so far, but all attempts at
resistance had been vain.
Their arms and ammunition were in the hand=
s of
the savages,
and they would soon have been targets for
their own balls.
They were soon aware, from a few English w=
ords
used by the natives,
that they were a retreating party of the t=
ribe
who had been beaten
and decimated by the English troops, and w=
ere
on their way back
to the Upper Waikato. The Maori chief, whose principal
warriors had
been picked off by the soldiers of the 42nd
Regiment, was returning
to make a final appeal to the tribes of the
Waikato district,
so that he might go to the aid of the
indomitable William Thompson,
who was still holding his own against the
conquerors.
The chief's name was "Kai-Koumou,&quo=
t; a
name of evil boding in the
native language, meaning "He who eats=
the
limbs of his enemy."
He was bold and brave, but his cruelty was
equally remarkable.
No pity was to be expected at his hands. His name was well known
to the English soldiers, and a price had b=
een
set on his head
by the governor of New Zealand.
This terrible blow befell Glenarvan at the
very moment when
he was about to reach the long-desired hav=
en
of Auckland,
and so regain his own country; but no one =
who
looked at his cool,
calm features, could have guessed the angu=
ish
he endured.
Glenarvan always rose to his misfortunes.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> He felt that his part
was to be the strength and the example of =
his
wife and companions;
that he was the head and chief; ready to d=
ie
for the rest
if circumstances required it. He was of a deeply religious
turn of mind, and never lost his trust in
Providence nor
his belief in the sacred character of his
enterprise.
In the midst of this crowning peril he did=
not
give way to any
feeling of regret at having been induced to
venture into this
country of savages.
His companions were worthy of him; they
entered into his lofty views;
and judging by their haughty demeanor, it
would scarcely have
been supposed that they were hurrying to t=
he
final catastrophe.
With one accord, and by Glenarvan's advice,
they resolved
to affect utter indifference before the
natives.
It was the only way to impress these feroc=
ious
natures.
Savages in general, and particularly the
Maories,
have a notion of dignity from which they n=
ever
derogate.
They respect, above all things, coolness a=
nd
courage.
Glenarvan was aware that by this mode of
procedure, he and his
companions would spare themselves needless
humiliation.
From the moment of embarking, the natives,=
who
were
very taciturn, like all savages, had scarc=
ely
exchanged a word,
but from the few sentences they did utter,
Glenarvan felt
certain that the English language was fami=
liar
to them.
He therefore made up his mind to question =
the
chief on the fate
that awaited them. Addressing himself to Kai-Koumou, =
he
said
in a perfectly unconcerned voice:
"Where are we going, chief?"
Kai-Koumou looked coolly at him and made n=
o answer.
"What are you going to do with us?&qu=
ot;
pursued Glenarvan.
A sudden gleam flashed into the eyes of
Kai-Koumou, and he said
in a deep voice:
"Exchange you, if your own people car=
e to
have you; eat you
if they don't."
Glenarvan asked no further questions; but =
hope
revived in his heart.
He concluded that some Maori chiefs had fa=
llen
into the hands of
the English, and that the natives would tr=
y to
get them exchanged.
So they had a chance of salvation, and the
case was not
quite so desperate.
The canoe was speeding rapidly up the rive=
r.
Paganel, whose excitable temperament always
rebounded from
one extreme to the other, had quite regain=
ed
his spirits.
He consoled himself that the natives were
saving them the trouble
of the journey to the English outposts, and
that was so much gain.
So he took it quite quietly and followed on
the map the course
of the Waikato across the plains and valle=
ys
of the province.
Lady Helena and Mary Grant, concealing the=
ir
alarm, conversed in
a low voice with Glenarvan, and the keenest
physiognomists
would have failed to see any anxiety in th=
eir
faces.
The Waikato is the national river in New
Zealand. It is to the Maories=
what the Rhine is to the Germans, and the
Danube to the Slavs. In its
course of 200 miles it waters the finest l=
ands
of the North Island,
from the province of Wellington to the
province of Auckland. It gave=
its name to all those indomitable tribes of
the river district,
which rose en masse against the invaders.<= o:p>
The waters of this river are still almost
strangers to any craft
but the native canoe. The most audacious tourist will sc=
arcely
venture to invade these sacred shores; in
fact, the Upper Waikato
is sealed against profane Europeans.
Paganel was aware of the feelings of
veneration with which the natives
regard this great arterial stream. He knew that the English and
German naturalists had never penetrated
further than its junction
with the Waipa. He wondered how far the good pleas=
ure of
Kai-Koumou
would carry his captives? He could not have guessed, but for
hearing
the word "Taupo" repeatedly utte=
red
between the chief and his warriors.
He consulted his map and saw that
"Taupo" was the name of a lake
celebrated in geographical annals, and lyi=
ng
in the most mountainous
part of the island, at the southern extrem=
ity
of Auckland province.
The Waikato passes through this lake and t=
hen
flows on for 120 miles.
AN unfathomable gulf twenty-five miles lon=
g,
and twenty miles
broad was produced, but long before histor=
ic
times, by the falling
in of caverns among the trachytic lavas of=
the
center of the island.
And these waters falling from the surround=
ing
heights have taken
possession of this vast basin. The gulf has become a lake, but it=
is also an abyss, and no lead-line has yet
sounded its depths.
Such is the wondrous lake of Taupo, lying
1,250 feet above
the level of the sea, and in view of an
amphitheater of mountains
2,400 feet high. On the west are rocky peaks of gre=
at
size;
on the north lofty summits clothed with low
trees; on the east
a broad beach with a road track, and cover=
ed
with pumice stones,
which shimmer through the leafy screen of =
the
bushes;
on the southern side rise volcanic cones
behind a forest flat.
Such is the majestic frame that incloses t=
his
vast sheet of water
whose roaring tempests rival the cyclones =
of
Ocean.
The whole region boils like an immense
cauldron hung over
subterranean fires. The ground vibrates from the agita=
tion
of the central furnace. Hot springs filter out everywhere.=
The crust of the earth cracks in great rif=
ts
like a cake,
too quickly baked.
About a quarter of a mile off, on a craggy
spur of the mountain
stood a "pah," or Maori
fortress. The prisoners, whos=
e feet
and hands were liberated, were landed one =
by
one, and conducted
into it by the warriors. The path which led up to the
intrenchment,
lay across fields of "phormium" =
and
a grove of beautiful trees,
the "kai-kateas" with persistent
leaves and red berries;
"dracaenas australis," the
"ti-trees" of the natives,
whose crown is a graceful counterpart of t=
he
cabbage-palm,
and "huious," which are used to =
give
a black dye to cloth.
Large doves with metallic sheen on their
plumage, and a world
of starlings with reddish carmeles, flew a=
way
at the approach
of the natives.
After a rather circuitous walk, Glenarvan =
and
his party arrived
at the "pah."
The fortress was defended by an outer
inclosure of strong palisades,
fifteen feet high; a second line of stakes;
then a fence composed
of osiers, with loop-holes, inclosed
Verne the inner space, that is the plateau=
of
the "pah,"
on which were erected the Maori buildings,=
and
about forty
huts arranged symmetrically.
When the captives approached they were
horror-struck at the sight
of the heads which adorned the posts of the
inner circle.
Lady Helena and Mary Grant turned away the=
ir
eyes more with disgust
than with terror. These heads were those of hostile =
chiefs
who had
fallen in battle, and whose bodies had ser=
ved
to feed the conquerors.
The geographer recognized that it was so, =
from
their eye sockets
being hollow and deprived of eye-balls.
Glenarvan and his companions had taken in =
all
this scene at a glance.
They stood near an empty house, waiting the
pleasure of the chief,
and exposed to the abuse of a crowd of old
crones. This troop of harpies=
surrounded them, shaking their fists, howl=
ing
and vociferating.
Some English words that escaped their coar=
se
mouths left no doubt
that they were clamoring for immediate
vengeance.
In the midst of all these cries and threat=
s,
Lady Helena,
tranquil to all outward seeming, affected =
an
indifference she
was far from feeling. This courageous woman made heroic
efforts
to restrain herself, lest she should distu=
rb
Glenarvan's coolness.
Poor Mary Grant felt her heart sink within
her, and John Mangles
stood by ready to die in her behalf. His companions bore
the deluge of invectives each according to=
his
disposition;
the Major with utter indifference, Paganel
with exasperation
that increased every moment.
Glenarvan, to spare Lady Helena the attack=
s of
these witches,
walked straight up to Kai-Koumou, and poin=
ting
to the hideous group:
"Send them away," said he.
The Maori chief stared fixedly at his pris=
oner
without speaking;
and then, with a nod, he silenced the noisy
horde. Glenarvan bowed,
as a sign of thanks, and went slowly back =
to
his place.
At this moment a hundred Maories were
assembled in the "pah,"
old men, full grown men, youths; the former
were calm, but gloomy,
awaiting the orders of Kai-Koumou; the oth=
ers
gave themselves up
to the most violent sorrow, bewailing their
parents and friends
who had fallen in the late engagements.
Kai-Koumou was the only one of all the chi=
efs
that obeyed the call
of William Thompson, who had returned to t=
he
lake district,
and he was the first to announce to his tr=
ibe
the defeat of the national
insurrection, beaten on the plains of the
lower Waikato. Of the two
hundred warriors who, under his orders,
hastened to the defence
of the soil, one hundred and fifty were
missing on his return.
Allowing for a number being made prisoners=
by
the invaders,
how many must be lying on the field of bat=
tle,
never to return
to the country of their ancestors!
This was the secret of the outburst of gri=
ef
with which the tribe
saluted the arrival of Kai-Koumou. Up to t=
hat
moment nothing had
been known of the last defeat, and the fat=
al
news fell on them
like a thunder clap.
Among the savages, sorrow is always manife=
sted
by physical signs;
the parents and friends of deceased warrio=
rs,
the women especially,
lacerated their faces and shoulders with
sharpened shells.
The blood spurted out and blended with the=
ir
tears.
Deep wounds denoted great despair. The unhappy Maories,
bleeding and excited, were hideous to look
upon.
There was another serious element in their
grief.
Not only had they lost the relative or fri=
end
they mourned,
but his bones would be missing in the fami=
ly
mausoleum.
In the Maori religion the possession of th=
ese
relics is
regarded as indispensable to the destinies=
of
the future life;
not the perishable flesh, but the bones, w=
hich
are collected
with the greatest care, cleaned, scraped,
polished, even varnished,
and then deposited in the "oudoupa,&q=
uot;
that is the "house of glory."
These tombs are adorned with wooden statue=
s,
representing with
perfect exactness the tattoo of the deceas=
ed. But now their tombs
would be left empty, the religious rites w=
ould
be unsolemnized,
and the bones that escaped the teeth of the
wild dog would
whiten without burial on the field of batt=
le.
Then the sorrowful chorus redoubled. The menaces of the women
were intensified by the imprecations of the
men against
the Europeans. Abusive epithets were lavished, the
accompanying
gestures became more violent. The howl was about to end
in brutal action.
Kai-Koumou, fearing that he might be
overpowered by the fanatics
of his tribe, conducted his prisoners to a
sacred place,
on an abruptly raised plateau at the other=
end
of the "pah."
This hut rested against a mound elevated a
hundred feet above it,
which formed the steep outer buttress of t=
he
entrenchment.
In this "Ware-Atoua," sacred hou=
se,
the priests or arikis taught
the Maories about a Triune God, father, so=
n,
and bird, or spirit.
The large, well constructed hut, contained=
the
sacred and choice
food which Maoui-Ranga-Rangui eats by the
mouths of his priests.
In this place, and safe for the moment from
the frenzied natives,
the captives lay down on the flax mats.
quite exhausted, her moral energies prostr=
ate,
and she fell
helpless into her husband's arms.
Glenarvan pressed her to his bosom and sai=
d:
"Courage, my dear Helena; Heaven will=
not
forsake us!"
Robert was scarcely in when he jumped on
Wilson's shoulders,
and squeezed his head through a crevice le=
ft
between the roof
and the walls, from which chaplets of amul=
ets
were hung.
From that elevation he could see the whole
extent of the "pah,"
and as far as Kai-Koumou's house.
"They are all crowding round the
chief," said he softly.
"They are throwing their arms about. =
. .
. They are howling. . . .
. Kai-Koumou is trying to speak."
Then he was silent for a few minutes.
"Kai-Koumou is speaking. . . . The
savages are quieter.
. . . . They are listening. . . . ."<= o:p>
"Evidently," said the Major,
"this chief has a personal interest
in protecting us. He wants to exchange his prisoners=
for
some chiefs
of his tribe! But will his warriors consent?&quo=
t;
"Yes! . . . They are listening. . . .=
.
They have dispersed, some are
gone into their huts. . . . The others have
left the intrenchment."
"Are you sure?" said the Major.<= o:p>
"Yes, Mr. McNabbs," replied Robe=
rt,
"Kai-Koumou is
left alone with the warriors of his canoe.=
. .
. . Oh! one
of them is coming up here. . . . ."
"Come down, Robert," said Glenar=
van.
At this moment, Lady Helena who had risen,
seized her husband's arm.
"Edward," she said in a resolute=
tone,
"neither Mary Grant nor I must
fall into the hands of these savages
alive!"
And so saying, she handed Glenarvan a load=
ed
revolver.
"Fire-arm!" exclaimed Glenarvan,
with flashing eyes.
"Yes! the Maories do not search their
prisoners. But, Edward, this =
is
for us, not for them."
Glenarvan slipped the revolver under his c=
oat;
at the same moment
the mat at the entrance was raised, and a
native entered.
He motioned to the prisoners to follow
him. Glenarvan and the rest
walked across the "pah" and stop=
ped
before Kai-Koumou. He was
surrounded by the principal warriors of his
tribe, and among them
the Maori whose canoe joined that of the
Kai-Koumou at the confluence
of Pohain-henna, on the Waikato. He was a man about forty
years of age, powerfully built and of fier=
ce
and cruel aspect.
His name was Kara-Tete, meaning "the
irascible" in the native tongue.
Kai-Koumou treated him with a certain tone=
of
respect, and by
the fineness of his tattoo, it was easy to
perceive that Kara-Tete
held a lofty position in the tribe, but a =
keen
observer would have
guessed the feeling of rivalry that existed
between these two chiefs.
The Major observed that the influence of
Kara-Tete gave umbrage
to Kai-Koumou. They both ruled the Waikato
tribes, and were equal
in authority. During this interview Kai-Koumou s=
miled,
but his eyes
betrayed a deep-seated enmity.
Kai-Koumou interrogated Glenarvan.
"You are English?" said he.
"Yes," replied Glenarvan,
unhesitatingly, as his nationality
would facilitate the exchange.
"And your companions?" said
Kai-Koumou.
"My companions are English like
myself. We are shipwrecked
travelers,
but it may be important to state that we h=
ave
taken no part in the war."
"That matters little!" was the
brutal answer of Kara-Tete.
"Every Englishman is an enemy. Your people invaded our island!
They robbed our fields! they burned our
villages!"
"They were wrong!" said Glenarva=
n,
quietly. "I say so,
because I think it, not because I am in yo=
ur
power."
"Listen," said Kai-Koumou, "=
;the
Tohonga, the chief priest of Noui-Atoua
has fallen into the hands of your brethren=
; he
is a prisoner among
the Pakekas. Our deity has commanded us to rans=
om
him. For my own part,
I would rather have torn out your heart, I
would have stuck your head,
and those of your companions, on the posts=
of
that palisade.
But Noui-Atoua has spoken."
As he uttered these words, Kai-Koumou, who
till now had
been quite unmoved, trembled with rage, and
his features
expressed intense ferocity.
Then after a few minutes' interval he
proceeded more calmly.
"Do you think the English will exchan=
ge
you for our Tohonga?"
Glenarvan hesitated, all the while watching
the Maori chief.
"I do not know," said he, after a
moment of silence.
"Speak," returned Kai-Koumou,
"is your life worth that of our Tohonga?"
"No," replied Glenarvan. "I am neither a chief nor a p=
riest
among my own people."
Paganel, petrified at this reply, looked at
Glenarvan in amazement.
Kai-Koumou appeared equally astonished.
"You doubt it then?" said he.
"I do not know," replied Glenarv=
an.
"Your people will not accept you as an
exchange for Tohonga?"
"Me alone? no," repeated
Glenarvan. "All of us pe=
rhaps
they might."
"Our Maori custom," replied
Kai-Koumou, "is head for head."
"Offer first these ladies in exchange=
for
your priest," said Glenarvan,
pointing to Lady Helena and Mary Grant.
Lady Helena was about to interrupt him.
"Those two ladies," continued
Glenarvan, bowing respectfully
toward Lady Helena and Mary Grant, "a=
re
personages of rank
in their own country."
The warrior gazed coldly at his prisoner.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> An evil smile
relaxed his lips for a moment; then he
controlled himself,
and in a voice of ill-concealed anger:
"Do you hope to deceive Kai-Koumou wi=
th
lying words,
accursed Pakeka? Can not the eyes of Kai-Koumou read
hearts?"
And pointing to Lady Helena: "That is your wife?" he =
said.
"No! mine!" exclaimed Kara-Tete.=
And then pushing his prisoners aside, he l=
aid
his hand on the shoulder
of Lady Helena, who turned pale at his tou=
ch.
"Edward!" cried the unfortunate
woman in terror.
Glenarvan, without a word, raised his arm,=
a
shot! and Kara-Tete fell
at his feet.
The sound brought a crowd of natives to the
spot. A hundred arms
were ready, and Glenarvan's revolver was
snatched from him.
Kai-Koumou glanced at Glenarvan with a cur=
ious
expression:
then with one hand protecting Glenarvan, w=
ith
the other he waved
off the crowd who were rushing on the part=
y.
At last his voice was heard above the tumu=
lt.
"Taboo! Taboo!" he shouted.
At that word the crowd stood still before
Glenarvan and his companions,
who for the time were preserved by a
supernatural influence.
A few minutes after they were re-conducted=
to
Ware-Atoua, which was
their prison. But Robert Grant and Paganel were =
not
with them.
KAI-KOUMOU, as frequently happens among the
Maories,
joined the title of ariki to that of tribal
chief.
He was invested with the dignity of priest,
and, as such,
he had the power to throw over persons or
things the superstitious
protection of the "taboo."
The "taboo," which is common to =
all
the Polynesian races,
has the primary effect of isolating the
"tabooed" person and preventing
the use of "tabooed" things. According to the Maori doctrine,
anyone who laid sacrilegious hands on what=
had
been declared
"taboo," would be punished with
death by the insulted deity,
and even if the god delayed the vindicatio=
n of
his power,
the priests took care to accelerate his
vengeance.
By the chiefs, the "taboo" is ma=
de a
political engine,
except in some cases, for domestic
reasons. For instance,
a native is tabooed for several days when =
his
hair is cut;
when he is tattooed; when he is building a
canoe,
or a house; when he is seriously ill, and =
when
he is dead.
If excessive consumption threatens to
exterminate the fish
of a river, or ruin the early crop of sweet
potatoes,
these things are put under the protection =
of
the taboo.
If a chief wishes to clear his house of
hangers-on, he taboos it;
if an English trader displeases him he is =
tabooed.
His interdict has the effect of the old ro=
yal
"veto."
If an object is tabooed, no one can touch =
it
with impunity.
When a native is under the interdict, cert=
ain
aliments
are denied him for a prescribed period.
as regards the severe diet, his slaves feed
him with the viands
he is forbidden to touch with his hands; i=
f he
is poor
and has no slaves, he has to take up the f=
ood
with his mouth,
like an animal.
In short, the most trifling acts of the
Maories are directed and modified
by this singular custom, the deity is brou=
ght
into constant contact
with their daily life. The taboo has the same weight as a=
law;
or rather, the code of the Maories,
indisputable and undisputed,
is comprised in the frequent applications =
of
the taboo.
As to the prisoners confined in the
Ware-Atoua, it was an
arbitrary taboo which had saved them from =
the
fury of the tribe.
Some of the natives, friends and partisans=
of
Kai-Koumou,
desisted at once on hearing their chief's
voice, and protected
the captives from the rest.
Glenarvan cherished no illusive hopes as to
his own fate;
nothing but his death could atone for the
murder of a chief,
and among these people death was only the
concluding act of a
martyrdom of torture. Glenarvan, therefore, was fully pr=
epared
to pay the penalty of the righteous
indignation that nerved
his arm, but he hoped that the wrath of
Kai-Koumou would not
extend beyond himself.
What a night he and his companions
passed! Who could picture
their agonies or measure their
sufferings? Robert and Pagane=
l had
not been restored to them, but their fate =
was
no doubtful matter.
They were too surely the first victims of =
the
frenzied natives.
Even McNabbs, who was always sanguine, had
abandoned hope.
John Mangles was nearly frantic at the sig=
ht of
Mary Grant's
despair at being separated from her
brother. Glenarvan pondered
over the terrible request of Lady Helena, =
who
preferred
dying by his hand to submitting to torture=
and
slavery.
How was he to summon the terrible courage!=
"And Mary? who has a right to strike =
her
dead?" thought John,
whose heart was broken.
Escape was clearly impossible. Ten warriors, armed to the teeth,<= o:p>
kept watch at the door of Ware-Atoua.
The morning of February 13th arrived. No communication had
taken place between the natives and the
"tabooed" prisoners.
A limited supply of provisions was in the
house, which the unhappy
inmates scarcely touched. Misery deadened the pangs of hunge=
r.
The day passed without change, and without
hope; the funeral
ceremonies of the dead chief would doubtle=
ss
be the signal
for their execution.
Although Glenarvan did not conceal from
himself the probability
that Kai-Koumou had given up all idea of
exchange, the Major
still cherished a spark of hope.
"Who knows," said he, as he remi=
nded
Glenarvan of the effect produced
on the chief by the death of
Kara-Tete--"who knows but that Kai-Koumou,
in his heart, is very much obliged to
you?"
But even McNabbs' remarks failed to awaken
hope in Glenarvan's mind.
The next day passed without any appearance=
of
preparation for
their punishment; and this was the reason =
of
the delay.
The Maories believe that for three days af=
ter
death the soul
inhabits the body, and therefore, for three
times twenty-four hours,
the corpse remains unburied. This custom was rigorously observe=
d.
Till February 15th the "pah" was
deserted.
John Mangles, hoisted on Wilson's shoulder=
s,
frequently reconnoitered
the outer defences. Not a single native was visible; o=
nly
the watchful
sentinels relieving guard at the door of t=
he
Ware-Atoua.
But on the third day the huts opened; all =
the
savages, men, women,
and children, in all several hundred Maori=
es,
assembled in the "pah,"
silent and calm.
Kai-Koumou came out of his house, and
surrounded by the
principal chiefs of his tribe, he took his
stand on a mound
some feet above the level, in the center of
the enclosure.
The crowd of natives formed in a half circ=
le
some distance off,
in dead silence.
At a sign from Kai-Koumou, a warrior bent =
his
steps toward Ware-Atoua.
"Remember," said Lady Helena to =
her
husband. Glenarvan pressed
her to his heart, and Mary Grant went clos=
er
to John Mangles,
and said hurriedly:
"Lord and Lady Glenarvan cannot but t=
hink
if a wife may claim death
at her husband's hands, to escape a shamef=
ul
life, a betrothed
wife may claim death at the hands of her
betrothed husband,
to escape the same fate. John! at this last moment I ask yo=
u,
have we not long been betrothed to each ot=
her
in our secret hearts?
May I rely on you, as Lady Helena relies on
Lord Glenarvan?"
"Mary!" cried the young captain =
in
his despair. "Ah! dear
Mary--"
The mat was lifted, and the captives led to
Kai-Koumou;
the two women were resigned to their fate;=
the
men dissembled
their sufferings with superhuman effort.
They arrived in the presence of the Maori
chief.
"You killed Kara-Tete," said he =
to
Glenarvan.
"I did," answered Glenarvan.
"You die to-morrow at sunrise."<= o:p>
"Alone?" asked Glenarvan, with a
beating heart.
"Oh! if our Tohonga's life was not mo=
re
precious than yours!"
exclaimed Kai-Koumou, with a ferocious
expression of regret.
At this moment there was a commotion among=
the
natives.
Glenarvan looked quickly around; the crowd
made way, and a warrior
appeared heated by running, and sinking wi=
th
fatigue.
Kai-Koumou, as soon as he saw him, said in
English, evidently for
the benefit of the captives:
"You come from the camp of the
Pakekas?"
"Yes," answered the Maori.
"You have seen the prisoner, our
Tohonga?"
"I have seen him."
"Alive?"
"Dead! English have shot him."
It was all over with Glenarvan and his
companions.
"All!" cried Kai-Koumou; "y=
ou
all die to-morrow at daybreak."
Punishment fell on all indiscriminately. Lady Helena and Mary Grant
were grateful to Heaven for the boon.
The captives were not taken back to
Ware-Atoua. They were
destined to attend the obsequies of the ch=
ief
and the bloody
rites that accompanied them. A guard of natives conducted
them to the foot of an immense kauri, and =
then
stood on guard
without taking their eyes off the prisoner=
s.
The three prescribed days had elapsed since
the death of
Kara-Tete, and the soul of the dead warrior
had finally departed;
so the ceremonies commenced.
The body was laid on a small mound in the
central enclosure.
It was clothed in a rich dress, and wrappe=
d in
a magnificent flax mat.
His head, adorned with feathers, was encir=
cled
with a crown of
green leaves. His face, arms, and chest had been
rubbed with oil,
and did not show any sign of decay.
The parents and friends arrived at the foo=
t of
the mound, and at
a certain moment, as if the leader of an
orchestra were leading
a funeral chant, there arose a great wail =
of
tears, sighs, and sobs.
They lamented the deceased with a plaintive
rhythm and doleful cadence.
The kinsmen beat their heads; the kinswomen
tore their faces
with their nails and lavished more blood t=
han
tears.
But these demonstrations were not sufficie=
nt
to propitiate the soul
of the deceased, whose wrath might strike =
the
survivors of his tribe;
and his warriors, as they could not recall=
him
to life, were anxious
that he should have nothing to wish for in=
the
other world.
The wife of Kara-Tete was not to be parted
from him; indeed, she would
have refused to survive him. It was a custom, as well as a duty=
,
and Maori history has no lack of such
sacrifices.
This woman came on the scene; she was still
young. Her disheveled
hair flowed over her shoulders. Her sobs and cries filled the air.=
Incoherent words, regrets, sobs, broken
phrases in which she extolled
the virtues of the dead, alternated with h=
er
moans, and in a crowning
paroxysm of sorrow, she threw herself at t=
he
foot of the mound and beat
her head on the earth.
The Kai-Koumou drew near; suddenly the
wretched victim rose;
but a violent blow from a "MERE,"=
; a
kind of club brandished
by the chief, struck her to the ground; she
fell senseless.
Horrible yells followed; a hundred arms
threatened the
terror-stricken captives. But no one moved, for the funeral<= o:p>
ceremonies were not yet over.
The wife of Kara-Tete had joined her
husband. The two
bodies lay stretched side by side. But in the future life,
even the presence of his faithful companion
was not enough.
Who would attend on them in the realm of
Noui-Atoua, if their
slaves did not follow them into the other
world.
Six unfortunate fellows were brought to th=
e mound. They were
attendants whom the pitiless usages of war=
had
reduced to slavery.
During the chief's lifetime they had borne=
the
severest privations,
and been subjected to all kinds of ill-usa=
ge;
they had been
scantily fed, and incessantly occupied lik=
e beasts
of burden,
and now, according to Maori ideas, they we=
re
to resume to all
eternity this life of bondage.
These poor creatures appeared quite resign=
ed
to their destiny.
They were not taken by surprise. Their unbound hands showed
that they met their fate without resistanc=
e.
Their death was speedy and not aggravated =
by
tedious suffering;
torture was reserved for the authors of the
murder, who, only twenty
paces off, averted their eyes from the
horrible scene which was
to grow yet more horrible.
Six blows of the MERE, delivered by the ha=
nds
of six powerful warriors,
felled the victims in the midst of a sea of
blood.
This was the signal for a fearful scene of
cannibalism. The bodies
of slaves are not protected by taboo like
those of their masters.
They belong to the tribe; they were a sort=
of
small change thrown among
the mourners, and the moment the sacrifice=
was
over, the whole crowd,
chiefs, warriors, old men, women, children,
without distinction of age,
or sex, fell upon the senseless remains wi=
th brutal
appetite.
Faster than a rapid pen could describe it,=
the
bodies, still reeking,
were dismembered, divided, cut up, not into
morsels, but into crumbs.
Of the two hundred Maories present everyone
obtained a share.
They fought, they struggled, they quarreled
over the smallest fragment.
The drops of hot blood splashed over these
festive monsters,
and the whole of this detestable crew grov=
eled
under a rain of blood.
It was like the delirious fury of tigers
fighting over their prey,
or like a circus where the wild beasts dev=
our
the deer.
This scene ended, a score of fires were li=
t at
various points
of the "pah"; the smell of charr=
ed
flesh polluted the air;
and but for the fearful tumult of the
festival, but for the cries
that emanated from these flesh-sated throa=
ts,
the captives might
have heard the bones crunching under the t=
eeth
of the cannibals.
Glenarvan and his companions, breathless w=
ith
horror, tried to
conceal this fearful scene from the eyes of
the two poor ladies.
They understood then what fate awaited them
next day at dawn,
and also with what cruel torture this death
would be preceded.
They were dumb with horror.
The funeral dances commenced. Strong liquors distilled from
the "piper excelsum" animated the
intoxication of the natives.
They had nothing human left. It seemed possible that the
"taboo"
might be forgotten, and they might rush up=
on
the prisoners,
who were already terrified at their deliri=
ous
gestures.
But Kai-Koumou had kept his own senses ami=
dst
the general delirium.
He allowed an hour for this orgy of blood =
to
attain its maximum
and then cease, and the final scene of the
obsequies was performed
with the accustomed ceremonial.
The corpses of Kara-Tete and his wife were
raised, the limbs were bent,
and laid against the stomach according to =
the
Maori usage;
then came the funeral, not the final
interment, but a burial until
the moment when the earth had destroyed the
flesh and nothing
remained but the skeleton.
The place of "oudoupa," or the t=
omb,
had been chosen
outside the fortress, about two miles off =
at
the top
of a low hill called Maunganamu, situated =
on
the right bank
of the lake, and to this spot the body was=
to
be taken.
Two palanquins of a very primitive kind,
hand-barrows, in fact,
were brought to the foot of the mound, and=
the
corpses doubled
up so that they were sitting rather than
lying, and their
garments kept in place by a band of hanes,
were placed on them.
Four warriors took up the litters on their
shoulders,
and the whole tribe, repeating their funer=
al
chant, followed in
procession to the place of sepulture.
The captives, still strictly guarded, saw =
the
funeral cortege leave
the inner inclosure of the "pah";
then the chants and cries grew fainter.
For about half an hour the funeral process=
ion
remained out of sight,
in the hollow valley, and then came in sig=
ht
again winding up the
mountain side; the distance gave a fantast=
ic
effect to the undulating
movement of this long serpentine column.
The tribe stopped at an elevation of about=
800
feet, on the summit
of Maunganamu, where the burial place of
Kara-Tete had been prepared.
An ordinary Maori would have had nothing b=
ut a
hole and a heap of earth.
But a powerful and formidable chief destin=
ed
to speedy deification,
was honored with a tomb worthy of his
exploits.
The "oudoupa" had been fenced ro=
und,
and posts, surmounted with faces
painted in red ochre, stood near the grave
where the bodies were to lie.
The relatives had not forgotten that the
"Waidoua," the spirit
of the dead, lives on mortal food, as the =
body
did in this life.
Therefore, food was deposited in the inclo=
sure
as well as the arms
and clothing of the deceased. Nothing was omitted for comfort.
The husband and wife were laid side by sid=
e,
then covered with earth
and grass, after another series of laments=
.
Then the procession wound slowly down the
mountain, and henceforth
none dare ascend the slope of Maunganamu on
pain of death,
for it was "tabooed," like
Tongariro, where lie the ashes
of a chief killed by an earthquake in 1846=
.
JUST as the sun was sinking beyond
Tuhahua and Pukepapu, the captives were
conducted back to their prison.
They were not to leave it again till the t=
ops
of the
were lit with the first fires of day.
They had one night in which to prepare for
death.
Overcome as they were with horror and fati=
gue,
they took their
last meal together.
"We shall need all our strength,"
Glenarvan had said, "to look death
in the face. We must show these savages how Eur=
opeans
can die."
The meal ended. Lady Helena repeated the evening p=
rayer
aloud,
her companions, bare-headed, repeated it a=
fter
her.
Who does not turn his thoughts toward God =
in
the hour of death?
This done, the prisoners embraced each
other. Mary Grant and Helena,=
in a corner of the hut, lay down on a
mat. Sleep, which keeps
all sorrow in abeyance, soon weighed down
their eyelids;
they slept in each other's arms, overcome =
by
exhaustion
and prolonged watching.
Then Glenarvan, taking his friends aside, said: "My dear friends,<= o:p>
our lives and the lives of these poor women
are in God's hands.
If it is decreed that we die to-morrow, le=
t us
die bravely,
like Christian men, ready to appear without
terror before the
Supreme Judge. God, who reads our hearts, knows t=
hat we
had a noble end
in view.&=
nbsp;
If death awaits us instead of success, it is by His will.
Stern as the decree may seem, I will not
repine. But death here,
means not death only, it means torture,
insult, perhaps, and here
are two ladies--"
Glenarvan's voice, firm till now,
faltered. He was silent a mom=
ent,
and having overcome his emotion, he said,
addressing the young captain:
"John, you have promised Mary what I
promised Lady Helena.
What is your plan?"
"I believe," said John, "th=
at
in the sight of God I have a right
to fulfill that promise."
"Yes, John; but we are unarmed."=
"No!" replied John, showing him a
dagger. "I snatched it f=
rom
Kara-Tete
when he fell at your feet. My Lord, whichever of us survives =
the
other
will fulfill the wish of Lady Helena and M=
ary
Grant."
After these words were said, a profound
silence ensued.
At last the Major said: "My friends, keep that to the=
last
moment.
I am not an advocate of irremediable
measures."
"I did not speak for ourselves,"
said Glenarvan. "Be it a=
s it
may,
we can face death! Had we been alone, I should ere no=
w have
cried,
'My friends, let us make an effort. Let us attack these wretches!'
But with these poor girls--"
At this moment John raised the mat, and
counted twenty-five natives
keeping guard on the Ware-Atoua. A great f=
ire
had been lighted,
and its lurid glow threw into strong relief
the irregular outlines
of the "pah." Some of the savages were sitting r=
ound
the brazier;
the others standing motionless, their black
outlines relieved
against the clear background of flame. But they all kept watchful
guard on the hut confided to their care.
It has been said that between a vigilant
jailer and a prisoner
who wishes to escape, the chances are in f=
avor
of the prisoner;
the fact is, the interest of the one is ke=
ener
than that of the other.
The jailer may forget that he is on guard;=
the
prisoner never forgets
that he is guarded. The captive thinks oftener of esca=
ping
than
the jailer of preventing his flight, and h=
ence
we hear of frequent
and wonderful escapes.
But in the present instance hatred and rev=
enge
were the jailers--
not an indifferent warder; the prisoners w=
ere
not bound,
but it was because bonds were useless when
five-and-twenty men
were watching the only egress from the
Ware-Atoua.
This house, with its back to the rock which
closed the fortress,
was only accessible by a long, narrow
promontory which joined
it in front to the plateau on which the
"pah" was erected.
On its two other sides rose pointed rocks,
which jutted out over
an abyss a hundred feet deep. On that side descent was impossibl=
e,
and had it been possible, the bottom was s=
hut
in by the enormous rock.
The only outlet was the regular door of the
Ware-Atoua, and the Maories
guarded the promontory which united it to =
the
"pah" like a drawbridge.
All escape was thus hopeless, and Glenarvan
having tried the walls
for the twentieth time, was compelled to
acknowledge that it was so.
The hours of this night, wretched as they
were, slipped away.
Thick darkness had settled on the
mountain. Neither moon
nor stars pierced the gloom. Some gusts of wind whistled
by the sides of the "pah," and t=
he
posts of the house creaked:
the fire outside revived with the puffs of
wind, and the flames
sent fitful gleams into the interior of
Ware-Atoua. The group
of prisoners was lit up for a moment; they
were absorbed in their
last thoughts, and a deathlike silence rei=
gned
in the hut.
It might have been about four o'clock in t=
he
morning when the Major's
attention was called to a slight noise whi=
ch
seemed to come from the
foundation of the posts in the wall of the=
hut
which abutted on the rock.
McNabbs was at first indifferent, but find=
ing
the noise continue,
he listened; then his curiosity was arouse=
d,
and he put his ear
to the ground; it sounded as if someone wa=
s scraping
or hollowing
out the ground outside.
As soon as he was sure of it, he crept ove=
r to
Glenarvan and John Mangles,
and startling them from their melancholy
thoughts, led them to the end
of the hut.
"Listen," said he, motioning the=
m to
stoop.
The scratching became more and more audibl=
e;
they could hear
the little stones grate on a hard body and
roll away.
"Some animal in his burrow," said
John Mangles.
Glenarvan struck his forehead.
"Who knows?" said he, "it m=
ight
be a man."
"Animal or man," answered the Ma=
jor,
"I will soon find out!"
Wilson and Olbinett joined their companion=
s,
and all united to dig
through the wall--John with his dagger, the
others with stones
taken from the ground, or with their nails,
while Mulrady,
stretched along the ground, watched the na=
tive
guard through
a crevice of the matting.
These savages sitting motionless around the
fire, suspected nothing
of what was going on twenty feet off.
The soil was light and friable, and below =
lay
a bed of silicious tufa;
therefore, even without tools, the aperture
deepened quickly.
It soon became evident that a man, or men,
clinging to the sides
of the "pah," were cutting a pas=
sage
into its exterior wall.
What could be the object? Did they know of the existence
of the prisoners, or was it some private
enterprise that led
to the undertaking?
The prisoners redoubled their efforts. Their fingers bled, but still
they worked on; after half an hour they had
gone three feet deep;
they perceived by the increased sharpness =
of
the sounds that only a thin
layer of earth prevented immediate
communication.
Some minutes more passed, and the Major
withdrew his hand
from the stroke of a sharp blade. He suppressed a cry.
John Mangles, inserting the blade of his
poniard, avoided the knife
which now protruded above the soil, but se=
ized
the hand that wielded it.
It was the hand of a woman or child, a
European! On
neither side had a word been uttered.
It was evidently the cue of both sides to =
be
silent.
"Is it Robert?" whispered Glenar=
van.
But softly as the name was breathed, Mary
Grant, already awakened
by the sounds in the hut, slipped over tow=
ard
Glenarvan, and seizing
the hand, all stained with earth, she cove=
red
it with kisses.
"My darling Robert," said she, n=
ever
doubting, "it is you! it is you!"
"Yes, little sister," said he,
"it is I am here to save you all;
but be very silent."
"Brave lad!" repeated Glenarvan.=
"Watch the savages outside," said
Robert.
Mulrady, whose attention was distracted fo=
r a
moment by the appearance
of the boy, resumed his post.
"It is all right," said he. "There are only four awake;
the rest are asleep."
A minute after, the hole was enlarged, and
Robert passed from the arms
of his sister to those of Lady Helena. Round his body was rolled a long
coil of flax rope.
"My child, my child," murmured L=
ady
Helena, "the savages did
not kill you!"
"No, madam," said he; "I do=
not
know how it happened, but in the scuffle
I got away; I jumped the barrier; for two =
days
I hid in the bushes,
to try and see you; while the tribe were b=
usy
with the chief's funeral,
I came and reconnoitered this side of the
path, and I saw that I could
get to you. I stole this knife and rope out of=
the
desert hut.
The tufts of bush and the branches made me=
a
ladder, and I found
a kind of grotto already hollowed out in t=
he
rock under this hut;
I had only to bore some feet in soft earth,
and here I am."
Twenty noiseless kisses were his reward.
"Let us be off!" said he, in a
decided tone.
"Is Paganel below?" asked Glenar=
van.
"Monsieur Paganel?" replied the =
boy,
amazed.
"Yes; is he waiting for us?"
"No, my Lord; but is he not here?&quo=
t;
inquired Robert.
"No, Robert!" answered Mary Gran=
t.
"Why! have you not seen him?" as=
ked
Glenarvan. "Did you lose=
each other in the confusion? Did you not get away together?&quo=
t;
"No, my Lord!" said Robert, taken
aback by the disappearance
of his friend Paganel.
"Well, lose no more time," said =
the
Major. "Wherever Paganel=
is,
he cannot be in worse plight than
ourselves. Let us go."
Truly, the moments were precious. They had to fly.
The escape was not very difficult, except =
the
twenty feet
of perpendicular fall outside the grotto.<= o:p>
After that the slope was practicable to the
foot of the mountain.
From this point the prisoners could soon g=
ain
the lower valleys;
while the Maories, if they perceived the
flight of the prisoners,
would have to make a long round to catch t=
hem,
being unaware
of the gallery between the Ware-Atoua and =
the
outer rock.
The escape was commenced, and every precau=
tion
was taken.
The captives passed one by one through the
narrow passage
into the grotto. John Mangles, before leaving the h=
ut,
disposed of all the evidences of their wor=
k,
and in his turn slipped
through the opening and let down over it t=
he
mats of the house,
so that the entrance to the gallery was qu=
ite
concealed.
The next thing was to descend the vertical
wall to the slope below,
and this would have been impracticable, but
that Robert had brought
the flax rope, which was now unrolled and
fixed to a projecting point
of rock, the end hanging over.
John Mangles, before his friends trusted
themselves to this
flax rope, tried it; he did not think it v=
ery
strong;
and it was of importance not to risk
themselves imprudently,
as a fall would be fatal.
"This rope," said he, "will
only bear the weight of two persons;
therefore let us go in rotation. Lord and Lady Glenarvan first;
when they arrive at the bottom, three pull=
s at
the rope will be
a signal to us to follow."
"I will go first," said Robert.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "I discovered a deep hollow
at the foot of the slope where those who c=
ome
down can conceal
themselves and wait for the rest."
"Go, my boy," said Glenarvan,
pressing Robert's hand.
Robert disappeared through the opening out=
of
the grotto.
A minute after, the three pulls at the cord
informed them
the boy had alighted safely.
Glenarvan and Lady Helena immediately vent=
ured
out of the grotto.
The darkness was still very great, though =
some
grayish streaks
were already visible on the eastern summit=
s.
The biting cold of the morning revived the
poor young lady.
She felt stronger and commenced her perilo=
us
descent.
Glenarvan first, then Lady Helena, let
themselves down along the rope,
till they came to the spot where the
perpendicular wall met the top
of the slope. Then Glenarvan going first and
supporting his wife,
began to descend backward.
He felt for the tufts and grass and shrubs
able to afford a foothold;
tried them and then placed Lady Helena's f=
oot
on them.
Some birds, suddenly awakened, flew away,
uttering feeble cries,
and the fugitives trembled when a stone
loosened from its bed
rolled to the foot of the mountain.
They had reached half-way down the slope, =
when
a voice was heard
from the opening of the grotto.
"Stop!" whispered John Mangles.<= o:p>
Glenarvan, holding with one hand to a tuft=
of
tetragonia,
with the other holding his wife, waited wi=
th
breathless anxiety.
Wilson had had an alarm. Having heard some unusual noise ou=
tside
the Ware-Atoua, he went back into the hut =
and
watched the Maories
from behind the mat. At a sign from him, John stopped
Glenarvan.
One of the warriors on guard, startled by =
an
unusual sound,
rose and drew nearer to the Ware-Atoua. He
stood still about two
paces from the hut and listened with his h=
ead
bent forward.
He remained in that attitude for a minute =
that
seemed an hour,
his ear intent, his eye peering into the
darkness.
Then shaking his head like one who sees he=
is
mistaken,
he went back to his companions, took an ar=
mful
of dead wood,
and threw it into the smouldering fire, wh=
ich
immediately revived.
His face was lighted up by the flame, and =
was
free from any look
of doubt, and after having glanced to where
the first light
of dawn whitened the eastern sky, stretched
himself near the fire
to warm his stiffened limbs.
"All's well!" whispered Wilson.<= o:p>
John signaled to Glenarvan to resume his
descent.
Glenarvan let himself gently down the slop=
e;
soon Lady Helena
and he landed on the narrow track where Ro=
bert
waited for them.
The rope was shaken three times, and in his
turn John Mangles,
preceding Mary Grant, followed in the
dangerous route.
He arrived safely; he rejoined Lord and La=
dy
Glenarvan in the hollow
mentioned by Robert.
Five minutes after, all the fugitives had
safely escaped
from the Ware-Atoua, left their retreat, a=
nd
keeping away
from the inhabited shores of the lakes, th=
ey
plunged by narrow
paths into the recesses of the mountains.<= o:p>
They walked quickly, trying to avoid the
points where they
might be seen from the pah. They were quite silent, and glided=
among the bushes like shadows. Whither? Where chance led them,
but at any rate they were free.
Toward five o'clock, the day began to dawn,
bluish clouds marbled
the upper stratum of clouds. The misty summits began to pierce<= o:p>
the morning mists. The orb of day was soon to appear,=
and
instead
of giving the signal for their execution,
would, on the contrary,
announce their flight.
It was of vital importance that before the
decisive moment arrived
they should put themselves beyond the reac=
h of
the savages,
so as to put them off their track. But their progress was slow,
for the paths were steep. Lady Glenarvan climbed the slopes,=
supported, not to say carried, by Glenarva=
n,
and Mary Grant
leaned on the arm of John Mangles; Robert,
radiant with joy,
triumphant at his success, led the march, =
and
the two sailors
brought up the rear.
Another half an hour and the glorious sun
would rise out of
the mists of the horizon. For half an hour the fugitives wal=
ked
on as chance led them. Paganel was not there to take the =
lead.
He was now the object of their anxiety, an=
d whose
absence was a black
shadow between them and their happiness. But they bore steadily eastward,
as much as possible, and faced the gorgeous
morning light.
Soon they had reached a height of 500 feet
above Lake Taupo,
and the cold of the morning, increased by =
the
altitude, was very keen.
Dim outlines of hills and mountains rose
behind one another;
but Glenarvan only thought how best to get
lost among them.
Time enough by and by to see about escaping
from the labyrinth.
At last the sun appeared and sent his first
rays on their path.
Suddenly a terrific yell from a hundred
throats rent the air.
It came from the pah, whose direction
Glenarvan did not know.
Besides, a thick veil of fog, which, sprea=
d at
his feet,
prevented any distinct view of the valleys=
below.
But the fugitives could not doubt that the=
ir
escape had been discovered;
and now the question was, would they be ab=
le
to elude pursuit?
Had they been seen? Would not their track betray them?=
At this moment the fog in the valley lifte=
d,
and enveloped them
for a moment in a damp mist, and at three
hundred feet below they
perceived the swarming mass of frantic
natives.
While they looked they were seen. Renewed howls broke forth,
mingled with the barking of dogs, and the
whole tribe, after vainly
trying to scale the rock of Ware-Atoua, ru=
shed
out of the pah,
and hastened by the shortest paths in purs=
uit
of the prisoners
who were flying from their vengeance.
THE summit of the mountain was still a hun=
dred
feet above them.
The fugitives were anxious to reach it that
they might continue
their flight on the eastern slope out of t=
he
view of their pursuers.
They hoped then to find some practicable r=
idge
that would allow
of a passage to the neighboring peaks that
were thrown together
in an orographic maze, to which poor Pagan=
el's
genius would doubtless
have found the clew.
They hastened up the slope, spurred on by =
the
loud cries that drew
nearer and nearer. The avenging crowd had already rea=
ched
the foot
of the mountain.
"Courage! my friends," cried
Glenarvan, urging his companions
by voice and look.
In less than five minutes they were at the=
top
of the mountain,
and then they turned to judge of their
position, and decide
on a route that would baffle their pursuer=
s.
From their elevated position they could see
over Lake Taupo,
which stretched toward the west in its set=
ting
of picturesque mountains.
On the north the peaks of Pirongia; on the
south the burning crater
of Tongariro. But eastward nothing but the rocky
barrier of peaks
and ridges that formed the Wahiti ranges, =
the
great chain whose unbroken
links stretch from the East Cape to Cook's
Straits. They had no
alternative but to descend the opposite sl=
ope
and enter the narrow gorges,
uncertain whether any outlet existed.
Glenarvan could not prolong the halt for a
moment.
Wearied as they might be, they must fly or=
be
discovered.
"Let us go down!" cried he,
"before our passage is cut off."
But just as the ladies had risen with a
despairing effort,
McNabbs stopped them and said:
"Glenarvan, it is useless. Look!"
And then they all perceived the inexplicab=
le
change that had taken
place in the movements of the Maories.
Their pursuit had suddenly stopped. The ascent of the mountain
had ceased by an imperious command. The natives had paused in
their career, and surged like the sea waves
against an opposing rock.
All the crowd, thirsting for blood, stood =
at
the foot of the mountain
yelling and gesticulating, brandishing guns
and hatchets, but not
advancing a foot. Their dogs, rooted to the spot like
themselves,
barked with rage.
What stayed them? What occult power controlled these
savages?
The fugitives looked without understanding,
fearing lest the charm
that enchained Kai-Koumou's tribe should be
broken.
Suddenly John Mangles uttered an exclamati=
on
which attracted
the attention of his companions. He pointed to a little inclosure
on the summit of the cone.
"The tomb of Kara-Tete!" said
Robert.
"Are you sure, Robert?" said
Glenarvan.
"Yes, my Lord, it is the tomb; I
recognize it."
Robert was right. Fifty feet above, at the extreme p=
eak of
the mountain,
freshly painted posts formed a small palis=
aded
inclosure,
and Glenarvan too was convinced that it was
the chief's burial place.
The chances of their flight had led them to
the crest of Maunganamu.
Glenarvan, followed by the rest, climbed to
the foot of the tomb.
A large opening, covered with mats, led in=
to
it.
Glenarvan was about to invade the sanctity=
of
the "oudoupa,"
when he reeled backward.
"A savage!" said he.
"In the tomb?" inquired the Majo=
r.
"Yes, McNabbs."
"No matter; go in."
Glenarvan, the Major, Robert and John Mang=
les
entered.
There sat a Maori, wrapped in a large flax
mat; the darkness
of the "oudoupa" preventing them
from distinguishing his features.
He was very quiet, and was eating his
breakfast quite coolly.
Glenarvan was about to speak to him when t=
he
native forestalled
him by saying gayly and in good English:
"Sit down, my Lord; breakfast is
ready."
It was Paganel. At the sound of his voice they all
rushed
into the "oudoupa," and he was
cordially embraced all round.
Paganel was found again. He was their salvation. They wanted
to question him; to know how and why he was
here on the summit
of Maunganamu; but Glenarvan stopped this
misplaced curiosity.
"The savages?" said he.
"The savages," said Paganel,
shrugging his shoulders.
"I have a contempt for those people!<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Come and look at them."
They all followed Paganel out of the
"oudoupa." The Maor=
ies
were still in the same position round the =
base
of the mountain,
uttering fearful cries.
"Shout! yell! till your lungs are gon=
e,
stupid wretches!"
said Paganel. "I dare you to come here!&quo=
t;
"But why?" said Glenarvan.
"Because the chief is buried here, and
the tomb protects us,
because the mountain is tabooed."
"Tabooed?"
"Yes, my friends! and that is why I t=
ook
refuge here, as the malefactors
used to flee to the sanctuaries in the mid=
dle
ages."
"God be praised!" said Lady Hele=
na,
lifting her hands to heaven.
The fugitives were not yet out of danger, =
but
they had a moment's respite,
which was very welcome in their exhausted
state.
Glenarvan was too much overcome to speak, =
and
the Major nodded
his head with an air of perfect content.
"And now, my friends," said Paga=
nel,
"if these brutes think
to exercise their patience on us, they are
mistaken.
In two days we shall be out of their
reach."
"By flight!" said Glenarvan. "But how?"
"That I do not know," answered
Paganel, "but we shall manage it."
And now everybody wanted to know about the=
ir friend's
adventures.
They were puzzled by the reserve of a man
generally so talkative;
on this occasion they had to drag the words
out of his mouth;
usually he was a ready story-teller, now he
gave only evasive
answers to the questions of the rest.
"Paganel is another man!" thought
McNabbs.
His face was really altered. He wrapped himself closely
in his great flax mat and seemed to deprec=
ate
observation.
Everyone noticed his embarrassment, when he
was the subject
of conversation, though nobody appeared to=
remark
it;
when other topics were under discussion,
Paganel resumed
his usual gayety.
Of his adventures all that could be extrac=
ted
from him at this time
was as follows:
After the murder of Kara-Tete, Paganel took
advantage, like Robert,
of the commotion among the natives, and got
out of the inclosure.
But less fortunate than young Grant, he wa=
lked
straight into
a Maori camp, where he met a tall,
intelligent-looking chief,
evidently of higher rank than all the warr=
iors
of his tribe.
The chief spoke excellent English, and he
saluted the new-comer by
rubbing the end of his nose against the en=
d of
the geographer's nose.
Paganel wondered whether he was to consider
himself a prisoner or not.
But perceiving that he could not stir with=
out
the polite escort
of the chief, he soon made up his mind on =
that
point.
This chief, Hihi, or Sunbeam, was not a bad
fellow.
Paganel's spectacles and telescope seemed =
to
give him a great
idea of Paganel's importance, and he
manifested great attachment
to him, not only by kindness, but by a str=
ong
flax rope,
especially at night.
This lasted for three days; to the inquiry
whether he was well treated,
he said "Yes and no!" without
further answer; he was a prisoner,
and except that he expected immediate
execution, his state seemed to him
no better than that in which he had left h=
is
unfortunate friends.
One night, however, he managed to break his
rope and escape.
He had seen from afar the burial of the ch=
ief,
and knew that he was
buried on the top of Maunganamu, and he was
well acquainted
with the fact that the mountain would be
therefore tabooed.
He resolved to take refuge there, being
unwilling to leave
the region where his companions were in
durance. He succeeded
in his dangerous attempt, and had arrived =
the
previous night
at the tomb of Kara-Tete, and there propos=
ed
to recruit his
strength while he waited in the hope that =
his
friends might,
by Divine mercy, find the means of escape.=
Such was Paganel's story. Did he designedly conceal
some incident of his captivity? More than once his
embarrassment led them to that
conclusion. But however
that might be, he was heartily congratulat=
ed
on all sides.
And then the present emergency came on for
serious discussion.
The natives dare not climb Maunganamu, but
they, of course,
calculated that hunger and thirst would
restore them their prey.
It was only a question of time, and patien=
ce
is one of the virtues
of all savages. Glenarvan was fully alive to the
difficulty,
but made up his mind to watch for an
opportunity, or make one.
First of all he made a thorough survey of
Maunganamu,
their present fortress; not for the purpos=
e of
defence, but of escape.
The Major, John, Robert, Paganel, and hims=
elf,
made an exact map
of the mountain. They noted the direction, outlet a=
nd
inclination
of the paths. The ridge, a mile in length, which
united
Maunganamu to the Wahiti chain had a downw=
ard
inclination.
Its slope, narrow and jagged though it was,
appeared the only
practicable route, if they made good their
escape at all.
If they could do this without observation,
under cover of night,
they might possibly reach the deep valleys=
of
the Range and put
the Maories off the scent.
But there were dangers in this route; the =
last
part of it
was within pistol shot of natives posted on
the lower slopes.
Already when they ventured on the exposed =
part
of the crest,
they were saluted with a hail of shot which
did not reach them.
Some gun wads, carried by the wind, fell
beside them; they were
made of printed paper, which Paganel picke=
d up
out of curiosity,
and with some trouble deciphered.
"That is a good idea! My friends, do you know what those
creatures
use for wads?"
"No, Paganel!" said Glenarvan.
"Pages of the Bible! If that is the use they make of th=
e
Holy Book, I pity the missionaries! It will be rather difficult
to establish a Maori library."
"And what text of scripture did they =
aim
at us?"
"A message from God Himself!"
exclaimed John Mangles,
who was in the act of reading the scorched
fragment of paper.
"It bids us hope in Him," added =
the
young captain, firm in
the faith of his Scotch convictions.
"Read it, John!" said Glenarvan.=
And John read what the powder had left
visible: "I will deliver=
him,
for he hath trusted in me."
"My friends," said Glenarvan,
"we must carry these words of hope
to our dear, brave ladies. The sound will bring comfort
to their hearts."
Glenarvan and his companions hastened up t=
he
steep path to the cone,
and went toward the tomb. As they climbed they were astonish=
ed
to perceive every few moments a kind of
vibration in the soil.
It was not a movement like earthquake, but
that peculiar tremor
that affects the metal of a boiler under h=
igh
pressure.
It was clear the mountain was the outer
covering of a body of vapor,
the product of subterranean fires.
This phenomenon of course excited no surpr=
ise
in those that had
just traveled among the hot springs of the
Waikato. They knew
that the central region of the Ika-na-Mani=
is
essentially volcanic.
It is a sieve, whose interstices furnish a
passage for the earth's
vapors in the shape of boiling geysers and
solfataras.
Paganel, who had already noticed this, cal=
led
the attention
of his friends to the volcanic nature of t=
he
mountain.
The peak of Maunganamu was only one of the
many cones which bristle
on this part of the island. It was a volcano of the future.
A slight mechanical change would produce a
crater of eruption
in these slopes, which consisted merely of
whitish silicious tufa.
"That may be," said Glenarvan,
"but we are in no more danger
here than standing by the boiler of the DU=
NCAN;
this solid
crust is like sheet iron."
"I agree with you," added the Ma=
jor,
"but however good a boiler may be,
it bursts at last after too long
service."
"McNabbs," said Paganel, "I
have no fancy for staying on the cone.
When Providence points out a way, I will g=
o at
once."
"I wish," remarked John, "t=
hat
Maunganamu could carry us himself,
with all the motive power that he has
inside. It is too bad that mi=
llions
of horse-power should lie under our feet
unavailable for our needs.
Our DUNCAN would carry us to the end of the
world with the thousandth
part of it."
The recollections of the DUNCAN evoked by =
John
Mangles
turned Glenarvan's thoughts into their sad=
dest
channel;
for desperate as his own case was he often
forgot it, in vain
regret at the fate of his crew.
His mind still dwelt on it when he reached=
the
summit of Maunganamu
and met his companions in misfortune.
Lady Helena, when she saw Glenarvan, came
forward to meet him.
"Dear Edward," said she, "y=
ou
have made up your mind?
Are we to hope or fear?"
"Hope, my dear Helena," replied
Glenarvan. "The natives =
will
never set foot on the mountain, and we sha=
ll
have time to devise
a plan of escape."
"More than that, madam, God himself h=
as
encouraged us to hope."
And so saying, John Mangles handed to Lady
Helena the fragment of paper on
which was legible the sacred words; and th=
ese
young women, whose trusting
hearts were always open to observe
Providential interpositions,
read in these words an indisputable sign of
salvation.
"And now let us go to the
'oudoupa!'" cried Paganel, in his
gayest mood. "It is our castle, our dining=
-room,
our study!
None can meddle with us there! Ladies! allow me to do the honors<= o:p>
of this charming abode."
They followed Paganel, and when the savages
saw them profaning
anew the tabooed burial place, they renewed
their fire
and their fearful yells, the one as loud as
the other.
But fortunately the balls fell short of our
friends,
though the cries reached them.
Lady Helena, Mary Grant, and their compani=
ons
were quite relieved to find
that the Maories were more dominated by
superstition than by anger,
and they entered the monument.
It was a palisade made of red-painted
posts. Symbolic figures,
tattooed on the wood, set forth the rank a=
nd
achievements
of the deceased. Strings of amulets, made of shells=
or
cut stones, hung from one part to
another. In the interior,
the ground was carpeted with green leaves,=
and
in the middle,
a slight mound betokened the place of the
newly made grave.
There lay the chief's weapons, his guns lo=
aded
and capped,
his spear, his splendid ax of green jade, =
with
a supply of powder
and ball for the happy hunting grounds.
"Quite an arsenal!" said Paganel,
"of which we shall make a better use.
What ideas they have! Fancy carrying arms in the other w=
orld!"
"Well!" said the Major, "but
these are English firearms."
"No doubt," replied Glenarvan,
"and it is a very unwise practice
to give firearms to savages! They turn them against the invader=
s,
naturally enough. But at any rate, they will be very=
valuable
to us."
"Yes," said Paganel, "but w=
hat
is more useful still is the food
and water provided for Kara-Tete."
Things had been handsomely done for the
deceased chief;
the amount of provisions denoted their est=
eem
for the departed.
There was food enough to sustain ten perso=
ns
for fifteen days,
or the dead man forever.
The vegetable aliments consisted of edible
ferns, sweet potatoes,
the "convolvulus batatas," which=
was
indigenous, and the potato
which had been imported long before by the
Europeans. Large jars
contained pure water, and a dozen baskets
artistically plaited
contained tablets of an unknown green gum.=
The fugitives were therefore provided for =
some
days against
hunger and thirst, and they needed no
persuasion to begin
their attack on the deceased chief's
stores. Glenarvan brought
out the necessary quantity and put them in=
to
Olbinett's hands.
The steward, who never could forget his
routine ideas, even in
the most exceptional circumstances, thought
the meal a slender one.
He did not know how to prepare the roots, =
and,
besides, had no fire.
But Paganel soon solved the difficulty by
recommending him
to bury his fern roots and sweet potatoes =
in
the soil.
The temperature of the surface stratum was
very high,
and a thermometer plunged into the soil wo=
uld
have marked
from 160 to 170 degrees; in fact, Olbinett
narrowly missed
being scalded, for just as he had scooped a
hole for the roots,
a jet of vapor sprang up and with a whistl=
ing
sound rose six
feet above the ground.
The steward fell back in terror.
"Shut off steam!" cried the Majo=
r,
running to close the hole
with the loose drift, while Paganel ponder=
ing
on the singular
phenomenon muttered to himself:
"Let me see! ha! ha! Why not?"
"Are you hurt?" inquired McNabbs=
of
Olbinett.
"No, Major," said the steward,
"but I did not expect--"
"That Providence would send you
fire," interrupted Paganel
in a jovial tone. "First the larder of Kara-Tet=
e and
then fire
out of the ground! Upon my word, this mountain is a
paradise!
I propose that we found a colony, and
cultivate the soil and settle
here for life! We shall be the Robinsons of
Maunganamu. We should
want for nothing."
"If it is solid ground," said Jo=
hn
Mangles.
"Well! it is not a thing of
yesterday," said Paganel.
"It has stood
against the internal fire for many a day, =
and
will do so till we leave it,
at any rate."
"Breakfast is ready," announced
Olbinett with as much dignity
as if he was in Malcolm Castle.
Without delay, the fugitives sat down near=
the
palisade, and began
one of the many meals with which Providence
had supplied them
in critical circumstances. Nobody was inclined to be fastidio=
us,
but opinions were divided as regarded the
edible fern.
Some thought the flavor sweet and agreeabl=
e,
others pronounced
it leathery, insipid, and resembling the t=
aste
of gum.
The sweet potatoes, cooked in the burning
soil, were excellent.
The geographer remarked that Kara-Tete was=
not
badly off after all.
And now that their hunger was appeased, it=
was
time to decide
on their plan of escape.
"So soon!" exclaimed Paganel in a
piteous tone. "Would you=
quit
the home of delight so soon?"
"But, Monsieur Paganel," interpo=
sed
Lady Helena, "if this be Capua,
you dare not intend to imitate Hannibal!&q=
uot;
"Madam, I dare not contradict you, an=
d if
discussion is the order
of the day, let it proceed."
"First," said Glenarvan, "I
think we ought to start before we are driven
to it by hunger. We are revived now, and ought to t=
ake
advantage of it.
To-night we will try to reach the eastern
valleys by crossing the cordon
of natives under cover of the darkness.&qu=
ot;
"Excellent," answered Paganel,
"if the Maories allow us to pass."
"And if not?" asked John Mangles=
.
"Then we will use our great
resources," said Paganel.
"But have we great resources?"
inquired the Major.
"More than we can use!" replied
Paganel, without any further explanation.
And then they waited for the night.
The natives had not stirred. Their numbers seemed even greater,=
perhaps owing to the influx of the straggl=
ers
of the tribe.
Fires lighted at intervals formed a girdle=
of
flame round the base
of the mountain, so that when darkness fel=
l,
Maunganamu appeared to rise
out of a great brasier, and to hide its he=
ad
in the thick darkness.
Five hundred feet below they could hear the
hum and the cries
of the enemy's camp.
At nine o'clock the darkness being very
intense,
Glenarvan and John Mangles went out to
reconnoiter before
embarking the whole party on this critical
journey.
They made the descent noiselessly, and aft=
er
about ten minutes,
arrived on the narrow ridge that crossed t=
he
native lines,
fifty feet above the camp.
All went well so far. The Maories, stretched beside the =
fires,
did not appear to observe the two fugitives. But in an instant<= o:p>
a double fusillade burst forth from both s=
ides
of the ridge.
"Back," exclaimed Glenarvan;
"those wretches have the eyes of cats
and the guns of riflemen!"
And they turned, and once more climbed the
steep slope of the mountain,
and then hastened to their friends who had
been alarmed at the firing.
Glenarvan's hat was pierced by two balls, =
and
they concluded that it
was out of the question to venture again on
the ridge between two
lines of marksmen.
"Wait till to-morrow," said Paga=
nel,
"and as we cannot elude
their vigilance, let me try my hand on
them."
The night was cold; but happily Kara-Tete =
had
been furnished
with his best night gear, and the party
wrapped themselves each
in a warm flax mantle, and protected by na=
tive
superstition,
slept quietly inside the inclosure, on the
warm ground,
still violating with the violence of the
internal ebullition.
NEXT day, February 17th, the sun's first r=
ays
awoke the sleepers of
the Maunganamu. The Maories had long since been as=
tir,
coming and going
at the foot of the mountain, without leavi=
ng
their line of observation.
Furious clamor broke out when they saw the
Europeans leave the sacred
place they had profaned.
Each of the party glanced first at the
neighboring mountains,
and at the deep valleys still drowned in m=
ist,
and over
Lake Taupo, which the morning breeze ruffl=
ed
slightly.
And then all clustered round Paganel eager=
to
hear his project.
Paganel soon satisfied their curiosity.
"my plan has one great recommendation=
; if
it does not accomplish all
that I anticipate, we shall be no worse off
than we are at present.
But it must, it will succeed."
"And what is it?" asked McNabbs.=
"It is this," replied Paganel,
"the superstition of the natives has
made this mountain a refuge for us, and we
must take advantage of their
superstition to escape. If I can persuade Kai-Koumou that =
we
have
expiated our profanation, that the wrath of
the Deity has fallen on us:
in a word, that we have died a terrible de=
ath,
do you think he will leave
the plateau of Maunganamu to return to his
village?"
"Not a doubt of it," said Glenar=
van.
"And what is the horrible death you r=
efer
to?" asked Lady Helena.
"The death of the sacrilegious, my
friends,"
replied Paganel. "The avenging flames are unde=
r our
feet.
Let us open a way for them!"
"What! make a volcano!" cried Jo=
hn
Mangles.
"Yes, an impromptu volcano, whose fur=
y we
can regulate. There are plent=
y
of vapors ready to hand, and subterranean
fires ready to issue forth.
We can have an eruption ready to order.&qu=
ot;
"An excellent idea, Paganel; well
conceived," said the Major.
"You understand," replied the
geographer, "we are to pretend to fall
victims to the flames of the Maori Pluto, =
and
to disappear spiritually
into the tomb of Kara-Tete. And stay there
three, four, even five days
if necessary--that is to say, till the sav=
ages
are convinced that we
have perished, and abandon their watch.&qu=
ot;
"But," said Miss Grant,
"suppose they wish to be sure of our punishment,
and climb up here to see?"
"No, my dear Mary," returned
Paganel. "They will not =
do
that.
The mountain is tabooed, and if it devoured
its sacrilegious intruders,
it would only be more inviolably
tabooed."
"It is really a very clever plan,&quo=
t;
said Glenarvan. "There i=
s
only one chance against it; that is, if the
savages prolong their
watch at the foot of Maunganamu, we may run
short of provisions.
But if we play our game well there is not =
much
fear of that."
"And when shall we try this last
chance?" asked Lady Helena.
"To-night," rejoined Paganel,
"when the darkness is the deepest."
"Agreed," said McNabbs;
"Paganel, you are a genius! and I, who seldom
get up an enthusiasm, I answer for the suc=
cess
of your plan.
Oh! those villains! They shall have a little miracle t=
hat
will put
off their conversion for another century.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> I hope the missionaries
will forgive us."
The project of Paganel was therefore adopt=
ed,
and certainly
with the superstitious ideas of the Maories
there seemed
good ground for hope. But brilliant as the idea might be=
,
the difficulty was in the modus operandi.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The volcano
might devour the bold schemers, who offere=
d it
a crater.
Could they control and direct the eruption
when they had succeeded
in letting loose its vapor and flames, and
lava streams?
The entire cone might be engulfed. It was meddling with phenomena
of which nature herself has the absolute
monopoly.
Paganel had thought of all this; but he
intended to act
prudently and without pushing things to
extremes.
An appearance would be enough to dupe the
Maories, and there
was no need for the terrible realities of =
an
eruption.
How long that day seemed. Each one of the party inwardly
counted the hours. All was made ready for flight. The oudoupa
provisions were divided and formed very
portable packets.
Some mats and firearms completed their lig=
ht
equipment,
all of which they took from the tomb of the
chief.
It is needless to say that their preparati=
ons
were made within
the inclosure, and that they were unseen by
the savages.
At six o'clock the steward served up a
refreshing meal. Where or whe=
n
they would eat in the valleys of the Range=
s no
one could foretell.
So that they had to take in supplies for t=
he
future. The principal
dish was composed of half a dozen rats, ca=
ught
by Wilson and stewed.
Lady Helena and Mary Grant obstinately ref=
used
to taste this game,
which is highly esteemed by the natives; b=
ut
the men enjoyed it
like the real Maories. The meat was excellent and savory,=
and
the six
devourers were devoured down to the bones.=
The evening twilight came on. The sun went down in a stormy-look=
ing
bank of clouds. A few flashes of lightning glanced
across the horizon
and distant thunder pealed through the
darkened sky.
Paganel welcomed the storm, which was a
valuable aid
to his plans, and completed his program. The savages are
superstitiously affected by the great
phenomena of nature.
The New Zealanders think that thunder is t=
he
angry voice
of Noui-Atoua, and lightning the fierce gl=
eam
of his eyes.
Thus their deity was coming personally to
chastise the violators
of the taboo.
At eight o'clock, the summit of the Maunga=
namu
was lost in
portentous darkness. The sky would supply a black backg=
round
for
the blaze which Paganel was about to throw=
on
it. The Maories could
no longer see their prisoners; and this was
the moment for action.
Speed was necessary. Glenarvan, Paganel, McNabbs, Rober=
t, the
steward,
and the two sailors, all lent a hand.
The spot for the crater was chosen thirty
paces from Kara-Tete's tomb.
It was important to keep the oudoupa intac=
t,
for if it disappeared,
the taboo of the mountain would be
nullified. At the spot
mentioned Paganel had noticed an enormous
block of stone,
round which the vapors played with a certa=
in
degree of intensity.
This block covered a small natural crater
hollowed in the cone,
and by its own weight prevented the egress=
of
the subterranean fire.
If they could move it from its socket, the
vapors and the lava
would issue by the disencumbered opening.<= o:p>
The workers used as levers some posts taken
from the interior of the
oudoupa, and they plied their tools vigoro=
usly
against the rocky mass.
Under their united efforts the stone soon
moved. They made a little
trench so that it might roll down the incl=
ined
plane. As they
gradually raised it, the vibrations under =
foot
became more distinct.
Dull roarings of flame and the whistling s=
ound
of a furnace ran along
under the thin crust. The intrepid la-borers, veritable
Cyclops
handling Earth's fires, worked in silence;
soon some fissures and
jets of steam warned them that their place=
was
growing dangerous.
But a crowning effort moved the mass which
rolled down and disappeared.
Immediately the thin crust gave way. A column of fire rushed to the sky=
with loud detonations, while streams of
boiling water and lava flowed
toward the native camp and the lower valle=
ys.
All the cone trembled as if it was about to
plunge into a fathomless gulf.
Glenarvan and his companions had barely ti=
me
to get out
of the way; they fled to the enclosure of =
the
oudoupa,
not without having been sprinkled with wat=
er
at 220 degrees.
This water at first spread a smell like so=
up,
which soon changed
into a strong odor of sulphur.
Then the mud, the lava, the volcanic stone=
s,
all spouted
forth in a torrent. Streams of fire furrowed the sides=
of Maunganamu. The neighboring mountains were lit=
up by
the glare;
the dark valleys were also filled with
dazzling light.
All the savages had risen, howling under t=
he
pain inflicted
by the burning lava, which was bubbling and
foaming in the midst
of their camp.
Those whom the liquid fire had not touched
fled to the surrounding hills;
then turned, and gazed in terror at this
fearful phenomenon,
this volcano in which the anger of their d=
eity
would
swallow up the profane intruders on the sa=
cred
mountain.
Now and then, when the roar of the eruption
became less violent,
their cry was heard:
"Taboo! taboo! taboo!"
An enormous quantity of vapors, heated sto=
nes
and lava was escaping
by this crater of Maunganamu. It was not a mere geyser like thos=
e that
girdle round Mount Hecla, in Iceland, it w=
as
itself a Hecla. All this
volcanic commotion was confined till then =
in
the envelope of the cone,
because the safety valve of Tangariro was
enough for its expansion;
but when this new issue was afforded, it
rushed forth fiercely,
and by the laws of equilibrium, the other
eruptions in the island must
on that night have lost their usual intens=
ity.
An hour after this volcano burst upon the
world, broad streams of lava
were running down its sides. Legions of rats came out of their =
holes,
and fled from the scene.
All night long, and fanned by the tempest =
in
the upper sky,
the crater never ceased to pour forth its
torrents with a violence
that alarmed Glenarvan. The eruption was breaking away the=
edges
of the opening. The prisoners. hidden behind the inclosure of sta=
kes,
watched the fearful progress of the
phenomenon.
Morning came. The fury of the volcano had not
slackened.
Thick yellowish fumes were mixed with the
flames; the lava
torrents wound their serpentine course in
every direction.
Glenarvan watched with a beating heart,
looking from all the interstices
of the palisaded enclosure, and observed t=
he
movements in the native camp.
The Maories had fled to the neighboring
ledges, out of the reach
of the volcano. Some corpses which lay at the foot=
of
the cone,
were charred by the fire. Further off toward the "pah,&=
quot;
the lava
had reached a group of twenty huts, which =
were
still smoking.
The Maories, forming here and there groups,
contemplated the canopied
summit of Maunganamu with religious awe.
Kai-Koumou approached in the midst of his =
warriors,
and Glenarvan
recognized him. The chief advanced to the foot of =
the
hill,
on the side untouched by the lava, but he =
did
not ascend
the first ledge.
Standing there, with his arms stretched out
like an ex-erciser,
he made some grimaces, whose meaning was
obvious to the prisoners.
As Paganel had foreseen, Kai-Koumou launch=
ed
on the avenging mountain
a more rigorous taboo.
Soon after the natives left their positions
and followed the winding
paths that led toward the pah.
"They are going!" exclaimed Glen=
arvan. "They have left
their posts! God be praised! Our stratagem has succeeded!
My dear Lady Helena, my brave friends, we =
are
all dead and buried!
But this evening when night comes, we shall
rise and leave our tomb,
and fly these barbarous tribes!"
It would be difficult to conceive of the j=
oy
that pervaded the oudoupa.
Hope had regained the mastery in all
hearts. The intrepid traveler=
s
forgot the past, forgot the future, to enj=
oy
the present delight!
And yet the task before them was not an ea=
sy
one--to gain
some European outpost in the midst of this
unknown country.
But Kai-Koumou once off their track, they
thought themselves safe
from all the savages in New Zealand.
A whole day had to elapse before they could
make a start,
and they employed it in arranging a plan of
flight.
Paganel had treasured up his map of New
Zealand, and on it
could trace out the best roads.
After discussion, the fugitives resolved to
make for the Bay of Plenty,
towards the east. The region was unknown, but appare=
ntly
desert.
The travelers, who from their past experie=
nce,
had learned
to make light of physical difficulties, fe=
ared
nothing but
meeting Maories. At any cost they wanted to avoid t=
hem
and gain
the east coast, where the missionaries had
several stations.
That part of the country had hitherto esca=
ped
the horrors of war,
and the natives were not in the habit of
scouring the country.
As to the distance that separated Lake Tau=
po
from the Bay
of Plenty, they calculated it about a hund=
red
miles.
Ten days' march at ten miles a day, could =
be
done,
not without fatigue, but none of the party
gave that a thought.
If they could only reach the mission stati=
ons
they could rest there
while waiting for a favorable opportunity =
to
get to Auckland,
for that was the point they desired to rea=
ch.
This question settled, they resumed their
watch of the
native proceedings, and continued so doing
till evening fell.
Not a solitary native remained at the foot=
of
the mountain,
and when darkness set in over the Taupo
valleys, not a fire
indicated the presence of the Maories at t=
he
base.
The road was free.
At nine o'clock, the night being unusually
dark,
Glenarvan gave the order to start. His companions and he,
armed and equipped at the expense of
Kara-Tete, began
cautiously to descend the slopes of
Maunganamu, John Mangles
and Wilson leading the way, eyes and ears =
on
the alert.
They stopped at the slightest sound, they
started at every
passing cloud. They slid rather than walked down =
the
spur,
that their figures might be lost in the da=
rk
mass of the mountain.
At two hundred feet below the summit, John
Mangles and his
sailors reached the dangerous ridge that h=
ad
been so obstinately
defended by the natives. If by ill luck the Maories,
more cunning than the fugitives, had only
pretended to retreat;
if they were not really duped by the volca=
nic
phenomenon,
this was the spot where their presence wou=
ld
be betrayed.
Glenarvan could not but shudder, in spite =
of
his confidence,
and in spite of the jokes of Paganel. The fate of the whole party
would hang in the balance for the ten minu=
tes
required to pass
along that ridge. He felt the beating of Lady Helena=
's
heart,
as she clung to his arm.
He had no thought of turning back. Neither had John.
The young captain, followed closely by the
whole party,
and protected by the intense darkness, cre=
pt
along the ridge,
stopping when some loose stone rolled to t=
he
bottom.
If the savages were still in the ambush be=
low,
these unusual
sounds might provoke from both sides a
dangerous fusillade.
But speed was impossible in their serpent-=
like
progress down this
sloping crest. When John Mangles had reached the =
lowest
point,
he was scarcely twenty-five feet from the
plateau, where the natives
were encamped the night before, and then t=
he
ridge rose again pretty
steeply toward a wood for about a quarter =
of a
mile.
All this lower part was crossed without
molestation, and they
commenced the ascent in silence. The clump of bush was invisible,
though they knew it was there, and but for=
the
possibility of an ambush,
Glenarvan counted on being safe when the p=
arty
arrived at that point.
But he observed that after this point, they
were no longer protected
by the taboo. The ascending ridge belonged not to
Maunganamu,
but to the mountain system of the eastern =
side
of Lake Taupo, so that
they had not only pistol shots, but
hand-to-hand fighting to fear.
For ten minutes, the little band ascended =
by
insensible degrees
toward the higher table-land. John could n=
ot
discern the dark wood,
but he knew it ought to be within two hund=
red
feet. Suddenly he stopped;
almost retreated. He fancied he heard something in t=
he
darkness;
his stoppage interrupted the march of those
behind.
He remained motionless long enough to alarm
his companions.
They waited with unspeakable anxiety,
wondering if they were doomed
to retrace their steps, and return to the
summit of Maunganamu.
But John, finding that the noise was not
repeated, resumed the ascent
of the narrow path of the ridge. Soon they perceived the shadowy
outline of the wood showing faintly through
the darkness.
A few steps more and they were hid from si=
ght
in the thick foliage
of the trees.
THE night favored their escape, and pruden=
ce
urged them
to lose no time in getting away from the f=
atal
neighborhood
of
instinct shone out anew in this difficult
mountain journey.
His nyctalopia was a great advantage, his
cat-like sight enabling
him to distinguish the smallest object in =
the
deepest gloom.
For three hours they walked on without hal=
ting
along the far-reaching
slope of the eastern side. Paganel kept a little to the south=
east,
in order to make use of a narrow passage
between the Kaimanawa
and the Wahiti Ranges, through which the r=
oad
from Hawkes' Bay to
Auckland passes. Once through that gorge, his plan =
was to
keep off
the road, and, under the shelter of the hi=
gh
ranges, march to the coast
across the inhabited regions of the provin=
ce.
At nine o'clock in the morning, they had m=
ade
twelve miles
in twelve hours. The courageous women could not be
pressed
further, and, besides, the locality was
suitable for camping.
The fugitives had reached the pass that
separates the two chains.
Paganel, map in hand, made a loop toward t=
he
northeast,
and at ten o'clock the little party reache=
d a
sort of redan,
formed by a projecting rock.
The provisions were brought out, and justi=
ce
was done to their meal.
Mary Grant and the Major, who had not thou=
ght
highly of the edible fern
till then, now ate of it heartily.
The halt lasted till two o'clock in the
afternoon, then they
resumed their journey; and in the evening =
they
stopped eight
miles from the mountains, and required no
persuasion to sleep
in the open air.
Next day was one of serious difficulties.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Their route lay across
this wondrous region of volcanic lakes,
geysers, and solfataras,
which extended to the east of the Wahiti
Ranges. It is a country
more pleasant for the eye to ramble over, =
than
for the limbs.
Every quarter of a mile they had to turn a=
side
or go around for
some obstacle, and thus incurred great
fatigue; but what a strange
sight met their eyes! What infinite variety nature lavis=
hes
on her great panoramas!
On this vast extent of twenty miles square,
the subterranean
forces had a field for the display of all
their varied effects.
Salt springs, of singular transparency,
peopled by myriads
of insects, sprang up from thickets of
tea-tree scrub.
They diffused a powerful odor of burnt pow=
der,
and scattered
on the ground a white sediment like dazzli=
ng
snow.
The limpid waters were nearly at boiling
point, while some
neighboring springs spread out like sheets=
of
glass.
Gigantic tree-ferns grew beside them, in
conditions analogous
to those of the Silurian vegetation.
On every side jets of water rose like park=
fountains,
out of
a sea of vapor; some of them continuous,
others intermittent,
as if a capricious Pluto controlled their
movements.
They rose like an amphitheater on natural
terraces; their waters
gradually flowed together under folds of w=
hite
smoke, and corroding
the edges of the semi-transparent steps of
this gigantic staircase.
They fed whole lakes with their boiling
torrents.
Farther still, beyond the hot springs and
tumultuous geysers,
came the solfataras. The ground looked as if covered wi=
th
large pustules. These were slumbering craters full=
of
cracks
and fissures from which rose various
gases. The air was
saturated with the acrid and unpleasant od=
or
of sulphurous acid.
The ground was encrusted with sulphur and
crystalline concretions.
All this incalculable wealth had been
accumulating for centuries,
and if the sulphur beds of Sicily should e=
ver
be exhausted,
it is here, in this little known district =
of
New Zealand,
that supplies must be sought.
The fatigue in traveling in such a country=
as
this will be
best understood. Camping was very difficult, and the
sportsmen
of the party shot nothing worthy of Olbine=
tt's
skill; so that they
had generally to content themselves with f=
ern
and sweet potato--
a poor diet which was scarcely sufficient =
to
recruit the exhausted
strength of the little party, who were all
anxious to escape
from this barren region.
But four days at least must elapse before =
they
could hope to leave it.
On February 23, at a distance of fifty mil=
es
from Maunganamu, Glenarvan
called a halt, and camped at the foot of a
nameless mountain,
marked on Paganel's map. The wooded plains stretched away f=
rom
sight,
and great forests appeared on the horizon.=
That day McNabbs and Robert killed three
kiwis, which filled the chief
place on their table, not for long, howeve=
r,
for in a few moments they
were all consumed from the beaks to the cl=
aws.
At dessert, between the potatoes and sweet
potatoes,
Paganel moved a resolution which was carri=
ed
with enthusiasm.
He proposed to give the name of Glenarvan =
to
this unnamed mountain,
which rose 3,000 feet high, and then was l=
ost
in the clouds,
and he printed carefully on his map the na=
me
of the Scottish nobleman.
It would be idle to narrate all the monoto=
nous
and uninteresting
details of the rest of the journey. Only two or three occurrences
of any importance took place on the way fr=
om
the lakes to
the Pacific Ocean. The march was all day long across
forests
and plains. John took observations of the sun =
and
stars.
Neither heat nor rain increased the discom=
fort
of the journey,
but the travelers were so reduced by the
trials they had undergone,
that they made very slow progress; and they
longed to arrive
at the mission station.
They still chatted, but the conversation h=
ad
ceased to be general.
The little party broke up into groups,
attracted to each other,
not by narrow sympathies, but by a more
personal communion of ideas.
Glenarvan generally walked alone; his mind
seemed to recur
to his unfortunate crew, as he drew nearer=
to
the sea.
He apparently lost sight of the dangers wh=
ich
lay before them
on their way to Auckland, in the thought of
his massacred men;
the horrible picture haunted him.
Harry Grant was never spoken of; they were=
no
longer in a position
to make any effort on his behalf. If his name was uttered at all,
it was between his daughter and John Mangl=
es.
John had never reminded Mary of what she h=
ad
said to him
on that last night at Ware-Atoua. He was t=
oo
wise to take
advantage of a word spoken in a moment of
despair.
When he mentioned Captain Grant, John alwa=
ys
spoke of further search.
He assured Mary that Lord Glenarvan would
re-embark in the enterprise.
He persistently returned to the fact that =
the
authenticity
of the document was indisputable, and that
therefore Harry Grant
was somewhere to be found, and that they w=
ould
find him, if they
had to try all over the world. Mary drank in his words, and she
and John, united by the same thought,
cherished the same hope.
Often Lady Helena joined in the conversati=
on;
but she did
not participate in their illusions, though=
she
refrained from
chilling their enthusiasm.
McNabbs, Robert, Wilson, and Mulrady kept =
up
their hunting parties,
without going far from the rest, and each =
one
furnished his QUOTA of game.
Paganel, arrayed in his flax mat, kept him=
self
aloof, in a silent
and pensive mood.
And yet, it is only justice to say, in spi=
te
of the general rule that,
in the midst of trials, dangers, fatigues,=
and
privations, the most
amiable dispositions become ruffled and
embittered, all our travelers
were united, devoted, ready to die for one
another.
On the 25th of February, their progress was
stopped by a river which
answered to the Wakari on Paganel's map, a=
nd
was easily forded. For two
days plains of low scrub succeeded each ot=
her
without interruption.
Half the distance from Lake Taupo to the c=
oast
had been traversed
without accident, though not without fatig=
ue.
Then the scene changed to immense and
interminable forests, which reminded
them of Australia, but here the kauri took=
the
place of the eucalyptus.
Although their enthusiasm had been incessa=
ntly
called forth during
their four months' journey, Glenarvan and =
his
companions were compelled
to admire and wonder at those gigantic pin=
es,
worthy rivals of the Cedars
of Lebanon, and the "Mammoth trees&qu=
ot;
of California. The kauris mea=
sured
a hundred feet high, before the ramificati=
on
of the branches.
They grew in isolated clumps, and the fore=
st
was not composed of trees,
but of innumerable groups of trees, which
spread their green canopies
in the air two hundred feet from the groun=
d.
Some of these pines, still young, about a
hundred years old,
resembled the red pine of Europe. They had a dark crown
surmounted by a dark conical shoot. Their older brethren,
five or six hundred years of age, formed g=
reat
green pavilions
supported on the inextricable network of t=
heir
branches.
These patriarchs of the New Zealand forest
measured fifty yards
in circumference, and the united arms of a=
ll
the travelers
could not embrace the giant trunk.
For three days the little party made their=
way
under these vast arches,
over a clayey soil which the foot of man h=
ad
never trod.
They knew this by the quantity of resinous=
gum
that lay in heaps
at the foot of the trees, and which would =
have
lasted for native
exportation many years.
The sportsmen found whole coveys of the ki=
wi,
which are scarce
in districts frequented by the Maories; the
native dogs drive
them away to the shelter of these inaccess=
ible
forests.
They were an abundant source of nourishing
food to our travelers.
Paganel also had the good fortune to espy,=
in
a thicket, a pair
of gigantic birds; his instinct as a
naturalist was awakened.
He called his companions, and in spite of
their fatigue,
the Major, Robert, and he set off on the t=
rack
of these animals.
His curiosity was excusable, for he had
recognized, or thought
he had recognized, these birds as
"moas" belonging to the species
of "dinornis," which many
naturalists class with the extinct birds.
This, if Paganel was right, would confirm =
the
opinion of Dr. Hochstetter
and other travelers on the present existen=
ce
of the wingless giants
of New Zealand.
These moas which Paganel was chasing, the
contemporaries of the
Megatherium and the Pterodactyles, must ha=
ve
been eighteen feet high.
They were huge ostriches, timid too, for t=
hey
fled with extreme rapidity.
But no shot could stay their course. After a few minutes of chase,
these fleet-footed moas disappeared among =
the
tall trees,
and the sportsmen lost their powder and th=
eir
pains.
That evening, March 1, Glenarvan and his c=
ompanions,
emerging at last
from the immense kauri-forest, camped at t=
he
foot of Mount Ikirangi,
whose summit rose five thousand five hundr=
ed
feet into the air.
At this point they had traveled a hundred
miles from Maunganamu,
and the shore was still thirty miles
away. John Mangles had calcul=
ated
on accomplishing the whole journey in ten
days, but he did not foresee
the physical difficulties of the country.<= o:p>
On the whole, owing to the circuits, the
obstacles,
and the imperfect observations, the journey
had been extended
by fully one-fifth, and now that they had
reached Mount Ikirangi,
they were quite worn out.
Two long days of walking were still to be
accomplished,
during which time all their activity and
vigilance would be required,
for their way was through a district often
frequented by the natives.
The little party conquered their weariness,
and set out next
morning at daybreak.
Between Mount Ikirangi which was left to t=
he
right, and Mount Hardy
whose summit rose on the left to a height =
of
3,700 feet, the journey
was very trying; for about ten miles the b=
ush
was a tangle
of "supple-jack," a kind of flex=
ible
rope, appropriately called
"stifling-creeper," that caught =
the
feet at every step.
For two days, they had to cut their way wi=
th
an ax through
this thousand-headed hydra. Hunting became impossible,
and the sportsmen failed in their accustom=
ed
tribute.
The provisions were almost exhausted, and
there was no means
of renewing them; their thirst was increas=
ing
by fatigue,
and there was no water wherewith to quench=
it.
The sufferings of Glenarvan and his party
became terrible,
and for the first time their moral energy
threatened to give way.
They no longer walked, they dragged themse=
lves
along, soulless bodies,
animated only by the instinct of
self-preservation which survives
every other feeling, and in this melancholy
plight they reached
Point Lottin on the shores of the Pacific.=
Here they saw several deserted huts, the r=
uins
of a village
lately destroyed by the war, abandoned fie=
lds,
and everywhere
signs of pillage and incendiary fires.
They were toiling painfully along the shor=
e,
when they saw,
at a distance of about a mile, a band of
natives, who rushed toward
them brandishing their weapons. Glenarvan, hemmed in by the sea,
could not fly, and summoning all his remai=
ning
strength he was
about to meet the attack, when John Mangles
cried:
"A boat! a boat!"
And there, twenty paces off, a canoe with =
six
oars lay on the beach.
To launch it, jump in and fly from the
dangerous shore,
was only a minute's work. John Mangles, McNabbs, Wilson and
Mulrady took the oars; Glenarvan the helm;=
the
two women,
Robert and Olbinett stretched themselves
beside him.
In ten minutes the canoe was a quarter of a
mile from the shore.
The sea was calm. The fugitives were silent. But John,
who did not want to get too far from land,=
was
about to give
the order to go up the coast, when he sudd=
enly
stopped rowing.
He saw three canoes coming out from behind
Point Lottin and evidently
about to give chase.
"Out to sea! Out to sea!" he exclaimed.
if we must!"
The canoe went fast under her four rowers. For half an hour she<= o:p>
kept her distance; but the poor exhausted
fellows grew weaker,
and the three pursuing boats began to gain
sensibly on them.
At this moment, scarcely two miles lay bet=
ween
them.
It was impossible to avoid the attack of t=
he
natives, who were
already preparing to fire their long guns.=
What was Glenarvan about?--standing up in =
the
stern he was looking
toward the horizon for some chimerical
help. What did he hope for?
What did he wish? Had he a presentiment?
In a moment his eyes gleamed, his hand poi=
nted
out into the distance.
"A ship! a ship!" he cried. "My friends, row! row hard!&q=
uot;
Not one of the rowers turned his head--not=
an
oar-stroke must be lost.
Paganel alone rose, and turned his telesco=
pe
to the point indicated.
"Yes," said he, "a ship! a
steamer! they are under full steam! they
are coming to us! Found now, brave comrades!"
The fugitives summoned new energy, and for
another half hour,
keeping their distance, they rowed with ha=
sty
strokes.
The steamer came nearer and nearer. They made out her two masts,
bare of sails, and the great volumes of bl=
ack
smoke.
Glenarvan, handing the tiller to Robert,
seized Paganel's glass,
and watched the movements of the steamer.<= o:p>
John Mangles and his companions were lost =
in
wonder when they
saw Glenarvan's features contract and grow
pale, and the glass
drop from his hands. One word explained it.
"The DUNCAN!" exclaimed
Glenarvan. "The DUNCAN, =
and
the convicts!"
"The DUNCAN!" cried John, lettin=
g go
his oar and rising.
"Yes, death on all sides!" murmu=
red
Glenarvan, crushed by despair.
It was indeed the yacht, they could not
mistake her--the yacht
and her bandit crew!
The major could scarcely restrain himself =
from
cursing their destiny.
The canoe was meantime standing still. Where should they go?
Whither fly? What choice was there between the
convicts
and the savages?
A shot was fired from the nearest of the
native boats, and the ball
struck Wilson's oar.
A few strokes then carried the canoe neare=
r to
the DUNCAN.
The yacht was coming down at full speed, a=
nd
was not more than half
a mile off.
John Mangles, between two enemies, did not
know what to advise,
whither to fly! The two poor ladies on their knees=
,
prayed in their agony.
The savages kept up a running fire, and sh=
ots
were raining
round the canoe, when suddenly a loud repo=
rt
was heard,
and a ball from the yacht's cannon passed =
over
their heads,
and now the boat remained motionless betwe=
en
the DUNCAN and
the native canoes.
John Mangles, frenzied with despair, seized
his ax. He was about
to scuttle the boat and sink it with his
unfortunate companions,
when a cry from Robert arrested his arm.
"Tom Austin! Tom Austin!" the lad shouted.=
"He is on board!
I see him! He knows us! He is waving his hat."
The ax hung useless in John's hand.
A second ball whistled over his head, and =
cut
in two the nearest
of the three native boats, while a loud hu=
rrah
burst forth
on board the DUNCAN.
The savages took flight, fled and regained=
the
shore.
"Come on, Tom, come on!" cried J=
ohn
Mangles in a joyous voice.
And a few minutes after, the ten fugitives,
how, they knew not,
were all safe on board the DUNCAN.
IT would be vain to attempt to depict the
feelings of Glenarvan
and his friends when the songs of old
The moment they set foot on the deck of th=
e
his bagpipes, and commenced the national
pibroch of the Malcolm clan,
while loud hurrahs rent the air.
Glenarvan and his whole party, even the Ma=
jor
himself, were crying
and embracing each other. They were delirious with joy.
The geographer was absolutely mad. He frisked about, telescope in han=
d,
pointing it at the last canoe approaching =
the
shore.
But at the sight of Glenarvan and his
companions, with their
clothing in rags, and thin, haggard faces,
bearing marks of
horrible sufferings, the crew ceased their
noisy demonstrations.
These were specters who had returned--not =
the
bright,
adventurous travelers who had left the yac=
ht
three months before,
so full of hope! Chance, and chance only, had broug=
ht
them
back to the deck of the yacht they never
thought to see again.
And in what a state of exhaustion and feeb=
leness.
But before thinking of fatigue, or attendi=
ng
to the imperious
demands of hunger and thirst, Glenarvan
questioned Tom Austin
about his being on this coast.
Why had the DUNCAN come to the eastern coa=
st
of New Zealand? How was it
not in the hands of Ben Joyce? By what providential fatality had =
God
brought them in the track of the fugitives=
?
Why? how? and for what purpose? Tom was stormed with questions
on all sides. The old sailor did not know which =
to
listen
to first, and at last resolved to hear nob=
ody
but Glenarvan,
and to answer nobody but him.
"But the convicts?" inquired
Glenarvan. "What did you=
do
with them?"
"The convicts?" replied Tom, with
the air of a man who does
not in the least understand what he is bei=
ng
asked.
"Yes, the wretches who attacked the
yacht."
"What yacht? Your Honor's?"
"Why, of course, Tom. The DUNCAN, and Ben Joyce, who cam=
e on
board."
"I don't know this Ben Joyce, and have
never seen him."
"Never seen him!" exclaimed Paga=
nel,
stupefied at the old
sailor's replies. "Then pray tell me, Tom, how =
it is
that the DUNCAN
is cruising at this moment on the coast of=
New
Zealand?"
But if Glenarvan and his friends were tota=
lly
at a loss to understand
the bewilderment of the old sailor, what w=
as
their amazement when
he replied in a calm voice:
"The DUNCAN is cruising here by your
Honor's orders."
"By my orders?" cried Glenarvan.=
"Yes, my Lord. I only acted in obedience to the
instructions
sent in your letter of January
fourteenth."
"My letter! my letter!" exclaimed
Glenarvan.
The ten travelers pressed closer round Tom
Austin, devouring him
with their eyes. The letter dated from Snowy River =
had
reached
the DUNCAN, then.
"Let us come to explanations, pray, f=
or
it seems to me I am dreaming.
You received a letter, Tom?"
"Yes, a letter from your Honor."=
"At Melbourne?"
"At Melbourne, just as our repairs we=
re
completed."
"And this letter?"
"It was not written by you, but bore =
your
signature, my Lord."
"Just so; my letter was brought by a
convict called Ben Joyce."
"No, by a sailor called Ayrton, a
quartermaster on the BRITANNIA."
"Yes, Ayrton or Ben Joyce, one and the
same individual.
Well, and what were the contents of this
letter?"
"It contained orders to leave Melbour=
ne
without delay, and go
and cruise on the eastern coast of--"=
"Australia!" said Glenarvan with
such vehemence that the old sailor
was somewhat disconcerted.
"Of Australia?" repeated Tom,
opening his eyes. "No, b=
ut New
Zealand."
"Australia, Tom! Australia!" they all cried wi=
th one
voice.
Austin's head began to feel in a whirl.
with such assurance that he thought after =
all
he must have
made a mistake in reading the letter. Could a faithful,
exact old servant like himself have been
guilty of such a thing!
He turned red and looked quite disturbed.<= o:p>
"Never mind, Tom," said Lady
Helena. "God so willed
it."
"But, no, madam, pardon me," rep=
lied
old Tom. "No, it is
impossible,
I was not mistaken. Ayrton read the letter as I did, a=
nd it
was he,
on the contrary, who wished to bring me to=
the
Australian coast."
"Ayrton!" cried Glenarvan.
"Yes, Ayrton himself. He insisted it was a mistake:
that you meant to order me to Twofold
Bay."
"Have you the letter still, Tom?"
asked the Major, extremely interested
in this mystery.
"Yes, Mr. McNabbs," replied
Austin. "I'll go and fet=
ch
it."
He ran at once to his cabin in the
forecastle. During his moment=
ary
absence they gazed at each other in silenc=
e,
all but the Major,
who crossed his arms and said:
"Well, now, Paganel, you must own this
would be going a little too far."
"What?" growled Paganel, looking
like a gigantic note of interrogation,
with his spectacles on his forehead and his
stooping back.
Austin returned directly with the letter
written by Paganel
and signed by Glenarvan.
"Will your Honor read it?" he sa=
id,
handing it to him.
Glenarvan took the letter and read as foll=
ows:
"Order to Tom Austin to put out to sea
without delay,
and to take the Duncan, by latitude 37 deg=
rees
to the eastern
coast of New Zealand!"
"New Zealand!" cried Paganel,
leaping up.
And he seized the letter from Glenarvan,
rubbed his eyes,
pushed down his spectacles on his nose, and
read it for himself.
"New Zealand!" he repeated in an
indescribable tone, letting the order
slip between his fingers.
That same moment he felt a hand laid on his
shoulder,
and turning round found himself face to fa=
ce
with the Major,
who said in a grave tone:
"Well, my good Paganel, after all, it=
is
a lucky thing you did
not send the DUNCAN to Cochin China!"=
This pleasantry finished the poor
geographer. The crew burst
out into loud Homeric laughter. Paganel ran about like
a madman, seized his head with both hands =
and
tore his hair.
He neither knew what he was doing nor what=
he
wanted to do.
He rushed down the poop stairs mechanically
and paced the deck,
nodding to himself and going straight befo=
re
without aim or object
till he reached the forecastle. There his feet got entangled
in a coil of rope. He stumbled and fell, accidentally
catching
hold of a rope with both hands in his fall=
.
Suddenly a tremendous explosion was
heard. The forecastle gun
had gone off, riddling the quiet calm of t=
he
waves with a volley
of small shot. The unfortunate Paganel had caught=
hold
of the cord
of the loaded gun. The geographer was thrown down the
forecastle
ladder and disappeared below.
A cry of terror succeeded the surprise
produced by the explosion.
Everybody thought something terrible must =
have
happened. The sailors
rushed between decks and lifted up Paganel,
almost bent double.
The geographer uttered no sound.
They carried his long body onto the poop.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> His companions were
in despair. The Major, who was always the surg=
eon on
great occasions,
began to strip the unfortunate that he mig=
ht
dress his wounds;
but he had scarcely put his hands on the d=
ying
man when he started
up as if touched by an electrical machine.=
"Never! never!" he exclaimed, and
pulling his ragged coat tightly
round him, he began buttoning it up in a
strangely excited manner.
"But, Paganel," began the Major.=
"No, I tell you!"
"I must examine--"
"You shall not examine."
"You may perhaps have broken--"
continued McNabbs.
"Yes," continued Paganel, gettin=
g up
on his long legs, "but what I
have broken the carpenter can mend."<= o:p>
"What is it, then?"
"There."
Bursts of laughter from the crew greeted t=
his
speech.
Paganel's friends were quite reassured abo=
ut
him now.
They were satisfied that he had come off s=
afe
and sound from
his adventure with the forecastle gun.
"At any rate," thought the Major,
"the geographer is wonderfully bashful."
But now Paganel was recovered a little, he=
had
to reply to a question
he could not escape.
"Now, Paganel," said Glenarvan,
"tell us frankly all about it.
I own that your blunder was providential.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> It is sure and certain that
but for you the DUNCAN would have fallen i=
nto
the hands of the convicts;
but for you we should have been recaptured=
by
the Maories. But for my
sake tell me by what supernatural aberrati=
on
of mind you were induced
to write New Zealand instead of
Australia?"
"Well, upon my oath," said Pagan=
el,
"it is--"
But the same instant his eyes fell on Mary=
and
Robert Grant,
and he stopped short and then went on:
"What would you have me say, my dear
Glenarvan? I am mad,
I am an idiot, an incorrigible fellow, and=
I
shall live and die
the most terrible absent man. I can't change my skin."
"Unless you get flayed alive."
"Get flayed alive!" cried the
geographer, with a furious look.
"Is that a personal allusion?"
"An allusion to what?" asked
McNabbs, quietly. This was al=
l that
passed.
The mystery of the DUNCAN'S presence on the
coast was explained,
and all that the travelers thought about n=
ow
was to get back to their
comfortable cabins, and to have breakfast.=
However, Glenarvan and John Mangles stayed
behind with Tom Austin
after the others had retired. They wished to put some further
questions to him.
"Now, then, old Austin," said
Glenarvan, "tell me, didn't it
strike you as strange to be ordered to go =
and
cruise on the coast
of New Zealand?"
"Yes, your Honor," replied Tom.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "I was very much surprised, b=
ut it
is not my custom to discuss any orders I
receive, and I obeyed. Could =
I
do otherwise? If some catastrophe had occurred t=
hrough
not carrying
out your injunctions to the letter, should=
not
I have been to blame?
Would you have acted differently,
captain?"
"No, Tom," replied John Mangles.=
"But what did you think?" asked
Glenarvan.
"I thought, your Honor, that in the
interest of Harry Grant,
it was necessary to go where I was told to
go. I thought that in
consequence of fresh arrangements, you wer=
e to
sail over to New Zealand,
and that I was to wait for you on the east
coast of the island.
Moreover, on leaving Melbourne, I kept our
destination a secret,
and the crew only knew it when we were rig=
ht
out at sea,
and the Australian continent was finally o=
ut
of sight.
But one circumstance occurred which greatly
perplexed me."
"What was it, Tom?" asked Glenar=
van.
"Just this, that when the quartermast=
er
of the BRITANNIA
heard our destination--"
"Ayrton!" cried Glenarvan. "Then he is on board?"
"Yes, your Honor."
"Ayrton here?" repeated Glenarva=
n,
looking at John Mangles.
"God has so willed!" said the yo=
ung
captain.
In an instant, like lightning, Ayrton's
conduct, his long-planned
treachery, Glenarvan's wound, Mulrady's as=
sassination,
the sufferings
of the expedition in the marshes of the Sn=
owy
River, the whole past
life of the miscreant, flashed before the =
eyes
of the two men.
And now, by the strangest concourse of eve=
nts,
the convict was
in their power.
"Where is he?" asked Glenarvan
eagerly.
"In a cabin in the forecastle, and un=
der
guard."
"Why was he imprisoned?"
"Because when Ayrton heard the vessel=
was
going to New Zealand, he was
in a fury; because he tried to force me to
alter the course of the ship;
because he threatened me; and, last of all,
because he incited my men
to mutiny. I saw clearly he was a dangerous
individual, and I must
take precautions against him."
"And since then?"
"Since then he has remained in his ca=
bin
without attempting
to go out."
"That's well, Tom."
Just at this moment Glenarvan and John Man=
gles
were summoned to the saloon
where breakfast, which they so sorely need=
ed,
was awaiting them.
They seated themselves at the table and sp=
oke
no more of Ayrton.
But after the meal was over, and the guests
were refreshed
and invigorated, and they all went upon de=
ck,
Glenarvan acquainted
them with the fact of the quartermaster's
presence on board,
and at the same time announced his intenti=
on
of having him
brought before them.
"May I beg to be excused from being
present at his examination?"
said Lady Helena. "I confess, dear Edward, it w=
ould
be extremely
painful for me to see the wretched man.&qu=
ot;
"He must be confronted with us,
Helena," replied Lord Glenarvan; "I beg
you will stay. Ben Joyce must see all his victims=
face
to face."
Lady Helena yielded to his wish. Mary Grant sat beside her,
near Glenarvan. All the others formed a group round
them, the whole party
that had been compromised so seriously by =
the
treachery of the convict.
The crew of the yacht, without understandi=
ng
the gravity of the situation,
kept profound silence.
"Bring Ayrton here," said Glenar=
van.
AYRTON came. He crossed the deck with a confide=
nt
tread,
and mounted the steps to the poop. His eyes were gloomy,
his teeth set, his fists clenched
convulsively.
His appearance betrayed neither effrontery=
nor
timidity.
When he found himself in the presence of L=
ord
Glenarvan he folded
his arms and awaited the questions calmly =
and
silently.
"Ayrton," said Glenarvan, "=
here
we are then, you and us,
on this very DUNCAN that you wished to del=
iver
into the hands
of the convicts of Ben Joyce."
The lips of the quartermaster trembled
slightly and a quick flush
suffused his impassive features. Not the flush of remorse,
but of shame at failure. On this yacht which he thought
he was to command as master, he was a
prisoner, and his fate
was about to be decided in a few seconds.<= o:p>
However, he made no reply. Glenarvan waited patiently.
But Ayrton persisted in keeping absolute
silence.
"Speak, Ayrton, what have you to
say?" resumed Glenarvan.
Ayrton hesitated, the wrinkles in his fore=
head
deepened,
and at length he said in calm voice:
"I have nothing to say, my Lord. I have been fool enough to allow
myself to be caught. Act as you please."
Then he turned his eyes away toward the co=
ast
which lay on the west,
and affected profound indifference to what=
was
passing around him.
One would have thought him a stranger to t=
he
whole affair.
But Glenarvan was determined to be
patient. Powerful motives
urged him to find out certain details
concerning the mysterious
life of Ayrton, especially those which rel=
ated
to Harry Grant
and the BRITANNIA. He therefore resumed his interroga=
tions,
speaking with extreme gentleness and firmly
restraining his violent
irritation against him.
"I think, Ayrton," he went on,
"that you will not refuse to reply
to certain questions that I wish to put to
you; and, first of all,
ought I to call you Ayrton or Ben Joyce? Are you, or are you not,
the quartermaster of the BRITANNIA?"<= o:p>
Ayrton remained impassive, gazing at the
coast, deaf to every question.
Glenarvan's eyes kindled, as he said again=
:
"Will you tell me how you left the
BRITANNIA, and why you
are in Australia?"
The same silence, the same impassibility.<= o:p>
"Listen to me, Ayrton," continued
Glenarvan; "it is to your
interest to speak. Frankness is the only resource lef=
t to
you,
and it may stand you in good stead. For the last time, I ask you,
will you reply to my questions?"
Ayrton turned his head toward Glenarvan, a=
nd
looked into his eyes.
"My Lord," he said, "it is =
not
for me to answer. Justice may
witness
against me, but I am not going to witness
against myself."
"Proof will be easy," said
Glenarvan.
"Easy, my Lord," repeated Ayrton=
, in
a mocking tone.
"Your honor makes rather a bold asser=
tion
there, it seems to me.
For my own part, I venture to affirm that =
the
best judge in
the Temple would be puzzled what to make of
me. Who will say why
I came to Australia, when Captain Grant is=
not
here to tell?
Who will prove that I am the Ben Joyce
placarded by the police,
when the police have never had me in their
hands, and my companions
are at liberty? Who can damage me except yourself,=
by
bringing
forward a single crime against me, or even=
a
blameable action?
Who will affirm that I intended to take
possession of this
ship and deliver it into the hands of the
convicts?
No one, I tell you, no one. You have your suspicions, but you<= o:p>
need certainties to condemn a man, and
certainties you have none.
Until there is a proof to the contrary, I =
am
Ayrton,
quartermaster of the BRITANNIA."
Ayrton had become animated while he was
speaking, but soon relapsed
into his former indifference.
He, no doubt, expected that his reply would
close the examination,
but Glenarvan commenced again, and said:
"Ayrton, I am not a Crown prosecutor
charged with your indictment.
That is no business of mine. It is important that our
respective situations should be clearly
defined.
I am not asking you anything that could
compromise you.
That is for justice to do. But you know what I am searching f=
or,
and a single word may put me on the track I
have lost.
Will you speak?"
Ayrton shook his head like a man determine=
d to
be silent.
"Will you tell me where Captain Grant=
is?"
asked Glenarvan.
"No, my Lord," replied Ayrton.
"Will you tell me where the BRITANNIA=
was
wrecked?"
"No, neither the one nor the other.&q=
uot;
"Ayrton," said Glenarvan, in alm=
ost
beseeching tones, "if you know
where Harry Grant is, will you, at least, =
tell
his poor children,
who are waiting for you to speak the
word?"
Ayrton hesitated. His features contracted, and he mu=
ttered
in a low voice, "I cannot, my Lord.&q=
uot;
Then he added with vehemence, as if
reproaching himself for
a momentary weakness:
"No, I will not speak. Have me hanged, if you choose.&quo=
t;
"Hanged!" exclaimed Glenarvan,
overcome by a sudden feeling of anger.
But immediately mastering himself, he adde=
d in
a grave voice:
"Ayrton, there is neither judge nor
executioner here.
At the first port we touch at, you will be
given up into the hands
of the English authorities."
"That is what I demand," was the
quartermaster's reply.
Then he turned away and quietly walked bac=
k to
his cabin,
which served as his prison. Two sailors kept guard at
the door, with orders to watch his slighte=
st
movement.
The witnesses of this examination retired =
from
the scene
indignant and despairing.
As Glenarvan could make no way against
Ayrton's obstinacy,
what was to be done now? Plainly no course remained but to<= o:p>
carry out the plan formed at Eden, of
returning to Europe
and giving up for the time this unsuccessf=
ul
enterprise,
for the traces of the BRITANNIA seemed
irrevocably lost,
and the document did not appear to allow a=
ny
fresh interpretation.
On the 37th parallel there was not even
another country,
and the DUNCAN had only to turn and go bac=
k.
After Glenarvan had consulted his friends,=
he
talked over
the question of returning, more particular=
ly
with the captain.
John examined the coal bunkers, and found
there was only
enough to last fifteen days longer at the
outside.
It was necessary, therefore, to put in at =
the
nearest port
for a fresh supply.
John proposed that he should steer for the=
Bay
of Talcahuano,
where the DUNCAN had once before been
revictualed before she
commenced her voyage of circumnavigation.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> It was a direct
route across, and lay exactly along the 37=
th
parallel.
From thence the yacht, being amply
provisioned, might go south,
double Cape Horn, and get back to Scotland=
by
the Atlantic route.
This plan was adopted, and orders were giv=
en
to the engineer to get up
the steam. Half an hour afterward the beak-he=
ad of
the yacht was turned
toward Talcahuano, over a sea worthy of be=
ing
called the Pacific,
and at six P. M. the last mountains of New
Zealand had disappeared
in warm, hazy mist on the horizon.
The return voyage was fairly commenced.
courageous searching party to come back to=
the
port without bringing
home Harry Grant with them! The crew, so joyous at departure a=
nd
so hopeful, were coming back to Europe
defeated and discouraged.
There was not one among the brave fellows
whose heart did
not swell at the thought of seeing his own
country once more;
and yet there was not one among them either
who would not have
been willing to brave the perils of the sea
for a long time still
if they could but find Captain Grant.
Consequently, the hurrahs which greeted the
return of Lord Glenarvan
to the yacht soon gave place to
dejection. Instead of the clo=
se
intercourse which had formerly existed amo=
ng
the passengers,
and the lively conversations which had che=
ered
the voyage,
each one kept apart from the others in the
solitude of his own cabin,
and it was seldom that anyone appeared on =
the
deck of the DUNCAN.
Paganel, who generally shared in an exagge=
rated
form
the feelings of those about him, whether
painful or joyous--
a man who could have invented hope if
necessary--even Paganel
was gloomy and taciturn. He was seldom visible; his natural=
loquacity and French vivacity gave place to
silence and dejection.
He seemed even more downhearted than his
companions.
If Glenarvan spoke at all of renewing the
search, he shook his
head like a man who has given up all hope,=
and
whose convictions
concerning the fate of the shipwrecked men
appeared settled.
It was quite evident he believed them
irrevocably lost.
And yet there was a man on board who could
have spoken the decisive word,
and refused to break his silence. This was Ayrton. There was no doubt
the fellow knew, if not the present
whereabouts of the captain, at least
the place of shipwreck. But it was evident that were Grant
found,
he would be a witness against him. Hence his persistent silence,
which gave rise to great indignation on bo=
ard,
especially among the crew,
who would have liked to deal summarily with
him.
Glenarvan repeatedly renewed his attempts =
with
the quartermaster,
but promises and threats were alike useles=
s.
Ayrton's obstinacy was so great, and so
inexplicable,
that the Major began to believe he had not=
hing
to reveal.
His opinion was shared, moreover, by the
geographer, as it
corroborated his own notion about Harry Gr=
ant.
But if Ayrton knew nothing, why did he not
confess his ignorance?
It could not be turned against him. His silence increased the difficul=
ty
of forming any new plan. Was the presence of the quartermast=
er
on the Australian continent a proof of Har=
ry
Grant's being there?
It was settled that they must get this
information out of Ayrton.
Lady Helena, seeing her husband's ill-succ=
ess,
asked his permission
to try her powers against the obstinacy of=
the
quartermaster.
When a man had failed, a woman perhaps, wi=
th
her gentler influence,
might succeed. Is there not a constant repetition=
going
on of
the story of the fable where the storm, bl=
ow
as it will, cannot tear
the cloak from the shoulders of the travel=
er,
while the first warm
rays of sunshine make him throw it off
immediately?
Glenarvan, knowing his young wife's good
sense, allowed her to act
as she pleased.
The same day (the 5th of March), Ayrton was
conducted to
Lady Helena's saloon. Mary Grant was to be present at the
interview,
for the influence of the young girl might =
be
considerable,
and Lady Helena would not lose any chance =
of
success.
For a whole hour the two ladies were close=
ted
with
the quartermaster, but nothing transpired
about their interview.
What had been said, what arguments they us=
ed
to win the secret
from the convict, or what questions were
asked, remained unknown;
but when they left Ayrton, they did not se=
em
to have succeeded,
as the expression on their faces denoted
discouragement.
In consequence of this, when the quarterma=
ster
was being taken
back to his cabin, the sailors met him with
violent menaces.
He took no notice except by shrugging his
shoulders, which so increased
their rage, that John Mangles and Glenarvan
had to interfere,
and could only repress it with difficulty.=
But Lady Helena would not own herself
vanquished.
She resolved to struggle to the last with =
this
pitiless man,
and went next day herself to his cabin to
avoid exposing him
again to the vindictiveness of the crew.
The good and gentle Scotchwoman stayed alo=
ne
with the convict leader
for two long hours. Glenarvan in a state of extreme ne=
rvous
anxiety,
remained outside the cabin, alternately
resolved to exhaust completely
this last chance of success, alternately
resolved to rush in and snatch
his wife from so painful a situation.
But this time when Lady Helena reappeared,=
her
look was full of hope.
Had she succeeded in extracting the secret,
and awakening in that adamant
heart a last faint touch of pity?
McNabbs, who first saw her, could not rest=
rain
a gesture of incredulity.
However the report soon spread among the
sailors that the quartermaster
had yielded to the persuasions of Lady
Helena. The effect
was electrical. The entire crew assembled on deck =
far
quicker
than Tom Austin's whistle could have broug=
ht
them together.
Glenarvan had hastened up to his wife and
eagerly asked:
"Has he spoken?"
"No," replied Lady Helena, "=
;but
he has yielded to my entreaties,
and wishes to see you."
"Ah, dear Helena, you have
succeeded!"
"I hope so, Edward."
"Have you made him any promise that I
must ratify?"
"Only one; that you will do all in yo=
ur
power to mitigate his punishment."
"Very well, dear Helena. Let Ayrton come immediately."=
Lady Helena retired to her cabin with Mary
Grant, and the quartermaster
was brought into the saloon where Lord
Glenarvan was expecting him.
As soon as the quartermaster was brought i=
nto
the presence
of Lord Glenarvan, his keepers withdrew.
"You wanted to speak to me, Ayrton?&q=
uot;
said Glenarvan.
"Yes, my Lord," replied the
quartermaster.
"Did you wish for a private
interview?"
"Yes, but I think if Major McNabbs and
Mr. Paganel were present
it would be better."
"For whom?"
"For myself."
Ayrton spoke quite calmly and firmly. Glenarvan looked at him
for an instant, and then sent to summon
McNabbs and Paganel,
who came at once.
"We are all ready to listen to you,&q=
uot;
said Glenarvan, when his
two friends had taken their place at the
saloon table.
Ayrton collected himself, for an instant, =
and
then said:
"My Lord, it is usual for witnesses t=
o be
present at every
contract or transaction between two
parties. That is why I
desire the presence of Messrs. Paganel and McNabbs, for it is,
properly speaking, a bargain which I propo=
se
to make."
Glenarvan, accustomed to Ayrton's ways,
exhibited no surprise,
though any bargaining between this man and
himself seemed strange.
"What is the bargain?" he said.<= o:p>
"This," replied Ayrton. "You wish to obtain from me
certain facts which may be useful to you.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> I wish to obtain
from you certain advantages which would be
valuable to me.
It is giving for giving, my Lord. Do you agree to this or not?"=
"What are the facts?" asked Paga=
nel
eagerly.
"No," said Glenarvan. "What are the advantages?&quo=
t;
Ayrton bowed in token that he understood
Glenarvan's distinction.
"These," he said, "are the
advantages I ask. It is still=
your
intention,
I suppose, to deliver me up to the English
authorities?"
"Yes, Ayrton, it is only justice.&quo=
t;
"I don't say it is not," replied=
the
quartermaster quietly.
"Then of course you would never conse=
nt
to set me at liberty."
Glenarvan hesitated before replying to a
question so plainly put.
On the answer he gave, perhaps the fate of
Harry Grant might depend!
However, a feeling of duty toward human
justice compelled him to say:
"No, Ayrton, I cannot set you at
liberty."
"I do not ask it," said the
quartermaster proudly.
"Then, what is it you want?"
"A middle place, my Lord, between the
gibbet that awaits me
and the liberty which you cannot grant
me."
"And that is--"
"To allow me to be left on one of the
uninhabited islands
of the Pacific, with such things as are
absolute necessaries.
I will manage as best I can, and will repe=
nt
if I have time."
Glenarvan, quite unprepared for such a
proposal, looked at his two
friends in silence. But after a brief reflection, he
replied:
"Ayrton, if I agree to your request, =
you
will tell me all I
have an interest in knowing."
"Yes, my Lord, that is to say, all I =
know
about Captain Grant
and the BRITANNIA."
"The whole truth?"
"The whole."
"But what guarantee have I?"
"Oh, I see what you are uneasy
about. You need a guarantee
for me, for the truth of a criminal. That's natural.
But what can you have under the
circumstances. There is no he=
lp
for it, you must either take my offer or l=
eave
it."
"I will trust to you, Ayrton," s=
aid
Glenarvan, simply.
"And you do right, my Lord. Besides, if I deceive you,
vengeance is in your own power."
"How?"
"You can come and take me again from
where you left me,
as I shall have no means of getting away f=
rom
the island."
Ayrton had an answer for everything. He anticipated the difficulties
and furnished unanswerable arguments again=
st
himself. It was
evident he intended to affect perfect good
faith in the business.
It was impossible to show more complete
confidence.
And yet he was prepared to go still furthe=
r in
disinterestedness.
"My Lord and gentlemen," he adde=
d,
"I wish to convince you of the fact
that I am playing cards on the table. I have no wish to deceive you,
and I am going to give you a fresh proof o=
f my
sincerity in this matter.
I deal frankly with you, because I reckon =
on
your honor."
"Speak, Ayrton," said Glenarvan.=
"My Lord, I have not your promise yet=
to
accede to my proposal,
and yet I do not scruple to tell you that I
know very little
about Harry Grant."
"Very little," exclaimed Glenarv=
an.
"Yes, my Lord, the details I am in a
position to give you relate
to myself. They are entirely personal, and wi=
ll not
do much
to help you to recover the lost traces of
Captain Grant."
Keen disappointment was depicted on the fa=
ces
of Glenarvan and the Major.
They thought the quartermaster in the
possession of an important secret,
and he declared that his communications wo=
uld
be very nearly barren.
Paganel's countenance remained unmoved.
Somehow or other, this avowal of Ayrton, a=
nd
surrender of himself,
so to speak, unconditionally, singularly
touched his auditors,
especially when the quartermaster added:
"So I tell you beforehand, the bargain
will be more to my
profit than yours."
"It does not signify," replied
Glenarvan. "I accept
your proposal, Ayrton. I give you my word to land you on =
one
of the islands of the Pacific Ocean."=
"All right, my Lord," replied the
quartermaster.
Was this strange man glad of this
decision? One might have doub=
ted
it,
for his impassive countenance betokened no
emotion whatever.
It seemed as if he were acting for someone
else rather than himself.
"I am ready to answer," he said.=
"We have no questions to put to
you," said Glenarvan.
"Tell us
all you know, Ayrton, and begin by declari=
ng
who you are."
"Gentlemen," replied Ayrton, &qu=
ot;I
am really Tom Ayrton, the quartermaster
of the BRITANNIA. I left Glasgow on Harry Grant's sh=
ip on
the 12th
of March, 1861. For fourteen months I cruised with=
him
in the Pacific
in search of an advantageous spot for foun=
ding
a Scotch colony.
Harry Grant was the man to carry out grand
projects, but serious
disputes often arose between us. His temper and mine could not agre=
e.
I cannot bend, and with Harry Grant, when =
once
his resolution is taken,
any resistance is impossible, my Lord. He has an iron will both for
himself and others.
"But in spite of that, I dared to reb=
el,
and I tried to get
the crew to join me, and to take possessio=
n of
the vessel.
Whether I was to blame or not is of no
consequence.
Be that as it may, Harry Grant had no
scruples, and on the 8th
of April, 1862, he left me behind on the w=
est
coast of Australia."
"Of Australia!" said the Major,
interrupting Ayrton in his narrative.
"Then of course you had quitted the
BRITANNIA before she touched
at Callao, which was her last date?"<= o:p>
"Yes," replied the quartermaster,
"for the BRITANNIA did not touch
there while I was on board. And how I came to speak of Callao<= o:p>
at Paddy O'Moore's farm was that I learned=
the
circumstances
from your recital."
"Go on, Ayrton," said Glenarvan.=
"I found myself abandoned on a nearly
desert coast,
but only forty miles from the penal settle=
ment
at Perth,
the capital of Western Australia. As I was wandering there
along the shore, I met a band of convicts =
who
had just escaped,
and I joined myself to them. You will dispense, my Lord,
with any account of my life for two years =
and
a half.
This much, however, I must tell you, that I
became the leader
of the gang, under the name of Ben Joyce.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> In September,
1864, I introduced myself at the Irish far=
m,
where I engaged
myself as a servant in my real name,
Ayrton. I waited
there till I should get some chance of sei=
zing
a ship.
This was my one idea. Two months afterward the DUNCAN ar=
rived.
During your visit to the farm you related
Captain Grant's history,
and I learned then facts of which I was not
previously aware--
that the BRITANNIA had touched at Callao, =
and
that her latest
news was dated June, 1862, two months afte=
r my
disembarkation,
and also about the document and the loss of
the ship somewhere
along the 37th parallel; and, lastly, the
strong reasons you
had for supposing Harry Grant was on the
Australian continent.
Without the least hesitation I determined =
to
appropriate the DUNCAN,
a matchless vessel, able to outdistance the
swiftest ships
in the British Navy. But serious injuries had to be rep=
aired.
I therefore let it go to Melbourne, and jo=
ined
myself to you
in my true character as quartermaster,
offering to guide
you to the scene of the shipwreck,
fictitiously placed
by me on the east coast of Australia. It was in this way,
followed or sometimes preceded by my gang =
of
convicts,
I directed your expedition toward the prov=
ince
of Victoria. My men
committed a bootless crime at Camden Bridg=
e;
since the DUNCAN,
if brought to the coast, could not escape =
me,
and with the yacht
once mine, I was master of the ocean. I led you in this way
unsuspectingly as far as the Snowy River.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The horses and
bullocks dropped dead one by one, poisoned=
by
the gastrolobium.
I dragged the wagon into the marshes, wher=
e it
got half buried.
At my instance--but you know the rest, my
Lord, and you may
be sure that but for the blunder of Mr.
Paganel, I should
now command the DUNCAN. Such is my history, gentlemen.
My disclosures, unfortunately, cannot put =
you
on the track
of Harry Grant, and you perceive that you =
have
made but a poor
bargain by coming to my terms."
The quartermaster said no more, but crossed
his arms in his usual
fashion and waited. Glenarvan and his friends kept sil=
ence.
They felt that this strange criminal had
spoken the whole truth.
He had only missed his coveted prize, the
DUNCAN, through a cause
independent of his will. His accomplices had gone to Twofol=
d Bay,
as was proved by the convict blouse found =
by
Glenarvan. Faithful to
the orders of their chief, they had kept w=
atch
on the yacht,
and at length, weary of waiting, had retur=
ned
to the old haunt
of robbers and incendiaries in the country
parts of New South Wales.
The Major put the first question, his obje=
ct
being to verify
the dates of the BRITANNIA.
"You are sure then," he said,
"that it was on the 8th of April
you were left on the west coast of
Australia?"
"On that very day," replied Ayrt=
on.
"And do you know what projects Harry
Grant had in view at the time?"
"In an indefinite way I do."
"Say all you can, Ayrton," said
Glenarvan, "the least indication
may set us in the right course."
"I only know this much, my Lord,"
replied the quartermaster,
"that Captain Grant intended to visit=
New
Zealand. Now, as this
part of the programme was not carried out
while I was on board,
it is not impossible that on leaving Callao
the BRITANNIA went
to reconnoiter New Zealand. This would agree with the date ass=
igned
by the document to the shipwreck--the 27th=
of
June, 1862."
"Clearly," said Paganel.
"But," objected Glenarvan,
"there is nothing in the fragmentary
words in the document that could apply to =
New
Zealand."
"That I cannot answer," said the
quartermaster.
"Well, Ayrton," said Glenarvan,
"you have kept your word,
and I will keep mine. We have to decide now on what isla=
nd
of the Pacific Ocean you are to be left?&q=
uot;
"It matters little, my Lord,"
replied Ayrton.
"Return to your cabin," said
Glenarvan, "and wait our decision."
The quartermaster withdrew, guarded by the=
two
sailors.
"That villain might have been a
man," said the Major.
"Yes," returned Glenarvan; "=
;he
is a strong, clear-headed fellow.
Why was it that he must needs turn his pow=
ers
to such evil account?"
"But Harry Grant?"
"I must fear he is irrevocably lost.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Poor children!
Who can tell them where their father is?&q=
uot;
"I can!" replied Paganel. "Yes; I can!" One could not help
remarking that the geographer, so loquacio=
us
and impatient usually,
had scarcely spoken during Ayrton's
examination. He listened
without opening his mouth. But this speech of his now was wor=
th
many others, and it made Glenarvan spring =
to
his feet, crying out:
"You, Paganel! you know where Captain
Grant is?"
"Yes, as far as can be known."
"How do you know?"
"From that infernal document."
"Ah!" said the Major, in a tone =
of
the most profound incredulity.
"Hear me first, and shrug your should=
ers
afterward,"
said Paganel. "I did not speak sooner, beca=
use
you would not
have believed me. Besides, it was useless; and I only
speak
to-day because Ayrton's opinion just suppo=
rts
my own."
"Then it is New Zealand?" asked
Glenarvan.
"Listen and judge," replied Paga=
nel. "It is not without reason,
or, rather, I had a reason for making the
blunder which has saved
our lives. When I was in the very act of writ=
ing
the letter
to Glenarvan's dictation, the word ZEALAND=
was
swimming in
my brain.=
This is why. You remem=
ber we
were in the wagon.
McNabbs had just apprised Lady Helena about
the convicts;
he had given her the number of the Austral=
ian
and
New Zealand Gazette which contained the
account of
the catastrophe at Camden Bridge. Now, just as I was writing,
the newspaper was lying on the ground, fol=
ded
in such a manner
that only two syllables of the title were
visible; these two
syllables were ALAND. What a sudden light flashed on my =
mind.
ALAND was one of the words in the English
document, one that
hitherto we had translated a terre, and wh=
ich
must have been
the termination of the proper noun,
ZEALAND."
"Indeed!" said Glenarvan.
"Yes," continued Paganel, with
profound conviction; "this meaning
had escaped me, and do you know why? Because my wits were exercised
naturally on the French document, as it was
most complete,
and in that this important word was
wanting."
"Oh, oh!" said the Major; "=
your
imagination goes too far, Paganel;
and you forget your former deductions.&quo=
t;
"Go on, Major; I am ready to answer
you."
"Well, then, what do you make of your
word AUSTRA?"
"What it was at first. It merely means southern
countries."
"Well, and this syllable, INDI, which=
was
first the root of the INDIANS,
and second the root of the word
indigenes?"
"Well, the third and last time,"
replied Paganel, "it will be
the first syllable of the word
INDIGENCE."
"And CONTIN?" cried McNabbs. "Does that still mean
CONTINENT?"
"No; since New Zealand is only an
island."
"What then?" asked Glenarvan.
"My dear lord," replied Paganel,
"I am going to translate the document
according to my third interpretation, and =
you
shall judge.
I only make two observations beforehand. First, forget as much
as possible preceding interpretations, and
divest your mind
of all preconceived notions. Second, certain parts may appear
to you strained, and it is possible that I
translate them badly;
but they are of no importance; among other=
s,
the word AGONIE,
which chokes me; but I cannot find any oth=
er
explanation.
Besides, my interpretation was founded on =
the
French document;
and don't forget it was written by an
Englishman, who could
not be familiar with the idioms of the Fre=
nch
language.
Now then, having said this much, I will
begin."
And slowly articulating each syllable, he
repeated
the following sentences:
"LE 27th JUIN, 1862, le trois-mats
Britannia, de Glasgow,
a sombre apres une longue AGONIE dans les =
mers
AUSTRALES sur les
cotes de la Nouvelle ZELANDE--in English
Zealand. Deux matelots
et le Capitaine Grant ont pu y ABORDER.
PRoie a une CRUELle INDIgence, ils ont jet=
e ce
document par--de
longitude ET 37 degrees 11' de LATItude. Venex a leur secours,
ou ils sont PERDUS!" (On the 27th of June, 1865, the
three-mast
vessel BRITANNIA, of Glasgow, has foundered
after a long AGOnie
in the Southern Seas, on the coast of New
Zealand. Two sailors
and Captain Grant have succeeded in
landing. Continually a prey
to cruel indigence, they have thrown this
document into the sea in--
longitude and 37 degrees 11' latitude. Come to their help,
or they are lost.)
Paganel stopped. His interpretation was admissible.=
But precisely because it appeared as likel=
y as
the preceding,
it might be as false. Glenarvan and the Major did not th=
en try
and discuss it. However, since no traces of the BR=
ITANNIA
had yet
been met with, either on the Patagonian or
Australian coasts,
at the points where these countries are
crossed by the 37th parallel,
the chances were in favor of New Zealand.<= o:p>
"Now, Paganel," said Glenarvan,
"will you tell me why you have kept
this interpretation secret for nearly two
months?"
"Because I did not wish to buoy you up
again with vain hopes.
Besides, we were going to Auckland, to the
very spot indicated
by the latitude of the document."
"But since then, when we were dragged=
out
of the route,
why did you not speak?"
"Because, however just the
interpretation, it could do nothing
for the deliverance of the captain."<= o:p>
"Why not, Paganel?"
"Because, admitting that the captain =
was
wrecked on the New Zealand coast,
now that two years have passed and he has =
not
reappeared, he must
have perished by shipwreck or by the New
Zealanders."
"Then you are of the opinion," s=
aid
Glenarvan, "that--"
"That vestiges of the wreck might be
found; but that the survivors
of the BRITANNIA have, beyond doubt,
perished."
"Keep all this silent, friends,"
said Glenarvan, "and let
me choose a fitting moment to communicate
these sad tidings
to Captain Grant's children."
THE crew soon heard that no light had been
thrown on the situation
of Captain Grant by the revelations of Ayr=
ton,
and it caused profound
disappointment among them, for they had
counted on the quartermaster,
and the quartermaster knew nothing which c=
ould
put the
the right track.
The yacht therefore continued her course.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> They had yet to select
the island for Ayrton's banishment.
Paganel and John Mangles consulted the cha=
rts
on board,
and exactly on the 37th parallel found a
little isle marked
by the name of Maria Theresa, a sunken roc=
k in
the middle
of the Pacific Ocean, 3,500 miles from the
American coast,
and 1,500 miles from New Zealand. The nearest land on the north
was the Archipelago of Pomotou, under the
protectorate of France;
on the south there was nothing but the ete=
rnal
ice-belt of the
Polar Sea. No ship would come to reconnoiter =
this
solitary isle.
No echoes from the world would ever reach
it. The storm
birds only would rest awhile on it during
their long flight,
and in many charts the rock was not even
marked.
If ever complete isolation was to be found=
on
earth, it was on this
little out-of-the-way island. Ayrton was informed of its situati=
on,
and expressed his willingness to live there
apart from his fellows.
The head of the vessel was in consequence
turned toward it immediately.
Two days later, at two o'clock, the man on
watch signaled land
on the horizon. This was Maria Theresa, a low, elo=
ngated
island,
scarcely raised above the waves, and looki=
ng
like an enormous whale.
It was still thirty miles distant from the
yacht, whose stem
was rapidly cutting her way over the water=
at
the rate of sixteen
knots an hour.
Gradually the form of the island grew more
distinct on the horizon.
The orb of day sinking in the west, threw =
up
its peculiar outlines
in sharp relief. A few peaks of no great elevation =
stood
out here
and there, tipped with sunlight. At five o'clock John Mangles could=
discern a light smoke rising from it.
"Is it a volcano?" he asked of
Paganel, who was gazing at this
new land through his telescope.
"I don't know what to think,"
replied the geographer;
"Maria Theresa is a spot little known;
nevertheless, it would not
be surprising if its origin were due to so=
me
submarine upheaval,
and consequently it may be volcanic."=
"But in that case," said Glenarv=
an,
"is there not reason to fear
that if an eruption produced it, an erupti=
on
may carry it away?"
"That is not possible," replied
Paganel. "We know of its=
existence for several centuries, which is =
our
security.
When the Isle Julia emerged from the
Mediterranean, it did
not remain long above the waves, and
disappeared a few months
after its birth."
"Very good," said Glenarvan. "Do you think, John, we can
get there to-night?"
"No, your honor, I must not risk the
DUNCAN in the dark,
for I am unacquainted with the coast. I will keep under steam,
but go very slowly, and to-morrow, at
daybreak, we can send
off a boat."
At eight o'clock in the evening, Maria
Theresa, though five miles
to leeward, appeared only an elongated sha=
dow,
scarcely visible.
The DUNCAN was always getting nearer.
At nine o'clock, a bright glare became
visible, and flames shot
up through the darkness. The light was steady and continued=
.
"That confirms the supposition of a
volcano," said Paganel,
observing it attentively.
"Yet," replied John Mangles,
"at this distance we ought to hear
the noise which always accompanies an
eruption, and the east wind
brings no sound whatever to our ear."=
"That's true," said Paganel. "It is a volcano that blazes,=
but does not speak. The gleam seems intermittent too,
sometimes,
like that of a lighthouse."
"You are right," said John Mangl=
es,
"and yet we are not on
a lighted coast."
"Ah!" he exclaimed, "another
fire? On the shore this time!=
Look!&nbs=
p;
It moves! It has chang=
ed its
place!"
John was not mistaken. A fresh fire had appeared, which s=
eemed
to die out now and then, and suddenly flar=
e up
again.
"Is the island inhabited then?" =
said
Glenarvan.
"By savages, evidently," replied
Paganel.
"But in that case, we cannot leave the
quartermaster there."
"No," replied the Major, "he
would be too bad a gift even
to bestow on savages."
"We must find some other uninhabited
island," said Glenarvan,
who could not help smiling at the delicacy=
of
McNabbs. "I promised
Ayrton his life, and I mean to keep my
promise."
"At all events, don't let us trust
them," added Paganel.
"The New Zealanders have the barbarous
custom of deceiving ships by
moving lights, like the wreckers on the
Cornish coast in former times.
Now the natives of Maria Theresa may have
heard of this proceeding."
"Keep her off a point," called o=
ut
John to the man at the helm.
"To-morrow at sunrise we shall know w=
hat
we're about."
At eleven o'clock, the passengers and John
Mangles retired
to their cabins. In the forepart of the yacht the m=
an on
watch
was pacing the deck, while aft, there was =
no
one but the man
at the wheel.
At this moment Mary Grant and Robert came =
on
the poop.
The two children of the captain, leaning o=
ver
the rail,
gazed sadly at the phosphorescent waves and
the luminous wake of
the DUNCAN. Mary was thinking of her brother's
future, and Robert
of his sister's. Their father was uppermos=
t in
the minds of both.
Was this idolized parent still in
existence? Must they give him=
up?
But no, for what would life be without
him? What would become
of them without him? What would have become of them alr=
eady,
but for Lord Glenarvan and Lady Helena?
The young boy, old above his years through
trouble, divined the thoughts
that troubled his sister, and taking her h=
and
in his own, said, "Mary, we
must never despair. Remember the lessons our father ga=
ve us.
Keep your courage up and no matter what
befalls you, let us
show this obstinate courage which can rise
above everything.
Up to this time, sister, you have been wor=
king
for me, it is my turn now,
and I will work for you."
"Dear Robert!" replied the young
girl.
"I must tell you something," res=
umed
Robert. "You mustn't
be vexed, Mary!"
"Why should I be vexed, my child?&quo=
t;
"And you will let me do it?"
"What do you mean?" said Mary,
getting uneasy.
"Sister, I am going to be a sailor!&q=
uot;
"You are going to leave me!" cri=
ed
the young girl,
pressing her brother's hand.
"Yes, sister; I want to be a sailor, =
like
my father and
Captain John. Mary, dear Mary, Captain John has =
not
lost all hope,
he says.&=
nbsp;
You have confidence in his devotion to us, and so have I. He
is going to make a grand sailor out of me =
some
day, he has promised
me he will; and then we are going to look =
for
our father together.
Tell me you are willing, sister mine. What our father would
have done for us it is our duty, mine, at
least, to do for him.
My life has one purpose to which it should=
be
entirely consecrated--
that is to search, and never cease searchi=
ng
for my father, who would
never have given us up. Ah, Mary, how good our father was!=
"
"And so noble, so generous!" add=
ed
Mary. "Do you know, Robe=
rt, he
was
already a glory to our country, and that he
would have been numbered
among our great men if fate had not arrest=
ed
his course."
"Yes, I know it," said Robert.
Mary put her arm around the boy, and hugged
him fondly as he felt
her tears fall on his forehead.
"Mary, Mary!" he cried, "it
doesn't matter what our friends say,
I still hope, and will always hope. A man like my father doesn't
die till he has finished his work."
Mary Grant could not reply. Sobs choked her voice.
A thousand feelings struggled in her breas=
t at
the news that
fresh attempts were about to be made to
recover Harry Grant,
and that the devotion of the captain was so
unbounded.
"And does Mr. John still hope?" =
she
asked.
"Yes," replied Robert. "He is a brother that will ne=
ver
forsake us, never! I will be a sailor, you'll say yes=
,
won't you, sister? And let me join him in looking for=
my
father.
I am sure you are willing."
"Yes, I am willing," said Mary.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> "But the separation!" she
murmured.
"You will not be alone, Mary, I know
that. My friend John
told me so. Lady Helena will not let you leave=
her.
You are a woman; you can and should accept=
her
kindness.
To refuse would be ungrateful, but a man, =
my
father has said
a hundred times, must make his own way.&qu=
ot;
"But what will become of our own dear
home in Dundee,
so full of memories?"
"We will keep it, little sister! All that is settled, and settled
so well, by our friend John, and also by L=
ord
Glenarvan. He is
to keep you at Malcolm Castle as if you we=
re
his daughter.
My Lord told my friend John so, and he told
me. You will be
at home there, and have someone to speak to
about our father,
while you are waiting till John and I bring
him back to you some day.
Ah! what a grand day that will be!"
exclaimed Robert, his face
glowing with enthusiasm.
"My boy, my brother," replied Ma=
ry,
"how happy my father
would be if he could hear you. How much you are like him,
dear Robert, like our dear, dear father. When you grow up
you'll be just himself."
"I hope I may," said Robert,
blushing with filial and sacred pride.
"But how shall we requite Lord and La=
dy
Glenarvan?" said Mary Grant.
"Oh, that will not be difficult,"
replied Robert, with boyish confidence.
"We will love and revere them, and we
will tell them so; and we will
give them plenty of kisses, and some day, =
when
we can get the chance,
we will die for them."
"We'll live for them, on the
contrary," replied the young girl,
covering her brother's forehead with
kisses. "They will like =
that
better,
and so shall I."
The two children then relapsed into silenc=
e,
gazing out into
the dark night, and giving way to long
reveries, interrupted
occasionally by a question or remark from =
one
to the other.
A long swell undulated the surface of the =
calm
sea, and the screw
turned up a luminous furrow in the darknes=
s.
A strange and altogether supernatural inci=
dent
now occurred.
The brother and sister, by some of those
magnetic communications
which link souls mysteriously together, we=
re
the subjects at
the same time and the same instant of the =
same
hallucination.
Out of the midst of these waves, with their
alternations
of light and shadow, a deep plaintive voice
sent up a cry,
the tones of which thrilled through every
fiber of their being.
"Come! come!" were the words whi=
ch
fell on their ears.
They both started up and leaned over the
railing, and peered
into the gloom with questioning eyes.
"Mary, you heard that? You heard that?" cried Robert=
.
But they saw nothing but the long shadow t=
hat
stretched before them.
"Robert," said Mary, pale with
emotion, "I thought--yes, I thought
as you did, that--We must both be ill with
fever, Robert."
A second time the cry reached them, and th=
is
time the illusion
was so great, that they both exclaimed
simultaneously,
"My father! My father!"
It was too much for Mary. Overcome with emotion, she fell fa=
inting
into Robert's arms.
"Help!" shouted Robert. "My sister! my father! Help! Help!"
The man at the wheel darted forward to lif=
t up
the girl.
The sailors on watch ran to assist, and Jo=
hn
Mangles, Lady Helena,
and Glenarvan were hastily roused from sle=
ep.
"My sister is dying, and my father is
there!" exclaimed Robert,
pointing to the waves.
They were wholly at a loss to understand h=
im.
"Yes!" he repeated, "my fat=
her
is there! I heard my father's
voice;
Mary heard it too!"
Just at this moment, Mary Grant recovering
consciousness, but wandering
and excited, called out, "My father! =
my
father is there!"
And the poor girl started up, and leaning =
over
the side of the yacht,
wanted to throw herself into the sea.
"My Lord--Lady Helena!" she
exclaimed, clasping her hands,
"I tell you my father is there! I can declare that I heard
his voice come out of the waves like a wai=
l,
as if it were
a last adieu."
The young girl went off again into convuls=
ions
and spasms,
which became so violent that she had to be
carried to
her cabin, where Lady Helena lavished every
care on her.
Robert kept on repeating, "My father!=
my
father is there!
I am sure of it, my Lord!"
The spectators of this painful scene saw t=
hat
the captain's
children were laboring under an
hallucination. But how were
they to be undeceived?
Glenarvan made an attempt, however. He took Robert's hand, and said,
"You say you heard your father's voic=
e,
my dear boy?"
"Yes, my Lord; there, in the middle of
the waves.
He cried out, 'Come! come!'"
"And did you recognize his voice?&quo=
t;
"Yes, I recognized it immediately.
My sister heard it, and recognized it as
well. How could we
both be deceived? My Lord, do let us go to my father=
's
help.
A boat! a boat!"
Glenarvan saw it was impossible to undecei=
ve
the poor boy,
but he tried once more by saying to the ma=
n at
the wheel:
"Hawkins, you were at the wheel, were=
you
not, when Miss Mary
was so strangely attacked?"
"Yes, your Honor," replied Hawki=
ns.
"And you heard nothing, and saw
nothing?"
"Nothing."
"Now Robert, see?"
"If it had been Hawkins's father,&quo=
t;
returned the boy,
with indomitable energy, "Hawkins wou=
ld
not say he had heard nothing.
It was my father, my lord! my father."=
;
Sobs choked his voice; he became pale and
silent, and presently
fell down insensible, like his sister.
Glenarvan had him carried to his bed, wher=
e he
lay in a deep swoon.
"Poor orphans," said John
Mangles. "It is a terrib=
le
trial they
have to bear!"
"Yes," said Glenarvan;
"excessive grief has produced the same
hallucination in both of them, and at the =
same
time."
"In both of them!" muttered Paga=
nel;
"that's strange, and pure
science would say inadmissible."
He leaned over the side of the vessel, and
listened attentively,
making a sign to the rest to keep still.
But profound silence reigned around. Paganel shouted his loudest.
No response came.
"It is strange," repeated the
geographer, going back to his cabin.
"Close sympathy in thought and grief =
does
not suffice to
explain this phenomenon."
Next day, March 4, at 5 A. M., at dawn, the
passengers, including Mary
and Robert, who would not stay behind, were
all assembled on the poop,
each one eager to examine the land they had
only caught a glimpse
of the night before.
The yacht was coasting along the island at=
the
distance of about a mile,
and its smallest details could be seen by =
the
eye.
Suddenly Robert gave a loud cry, and excla=
imed
he could see two men
running about and gesticulating, and a thi=
rd
was waving a flag.
"The Union Jack," said John Mang=
les,
who had caught up a spy-glass.
"True enough," said Paganel, tur=
ning
sharply round toward Robert.
"My Lord," said Robert, trembling
with emotion, "if you
don't want me to swim to the shore, let a =
boat
be lowered.
Oh, my Lord, I implore you to let me be the
first to land."
No one dared to speak. What! on this little isle,
crossed by the 37th parallel, there were t=
hree
men,
shipwrecked Englishmen! Instantaneously everyone thought
of the voice heard by Robert and Mary the
preceding night.
The children were right, perhaps, in the
affirmation.
The sound of a voice might have reached th=
em,
but this voice--
was it their father's? No, alas, most
assuredly no.
And as they thought of the dreadful
disappointment that awaited them,
they trembled lest this new trial should c=
rush
them completely.
But who could stop them from going on
shore? Lord Glenarvan
had not the heart to do it.
"Lower a boat," he called out.
Another minute and the boat was ready. The two children of
Captain Grant, Glenarvan, John Mangles, and
Paganel, rushed into it,
and six sailors, who rowed so vigorously t=
hat
they were presently
almost close to the shore.
At ten fathoms' distance a piercing cry br=
oke
from Mary's lips.
"My father!" she exclaimed.
A man was standing on the beach, between t=
wo
others.
His tall, powerful form, and his physiogno=
my,
with its mingled
expression of boldness and gentleness, bor=
e a
resemblance
both to Mary and Robert. This was indeed the man the childr=
en
had so often described. Their hearts had not deceived them=
.
This was their father, Captain Grant!
The captain had heard Mary's cry, for he h=
eld
out his arms,
and fell flat on the sand, as if struck by=
a
thunderbolt.
JOY does not kill, for both father and
children recovered before they
had reached the yacht. The scene which followed, who can
describe?
Language fails. The whole crew wept aloud at the s=
ight
of these three
clasped together in a close, silent embrac=
e.
The moment Harry Grant came on deck, he kn=
elt
down reverently. The pious
Scotchman's first act on touching the yach=
t,
which to him was the soil
of his native land, was to return thanks to
the God of his deliverance.
Then, turning to Lady Helena and Lord
Glenarvan, and his companions,
he thanked them in broken words, for his h=
eart
was too full to speak.
During the short passage from the isle to =
the
yacht, his children had
given him a brief sketch of the DUNCAN'S
history.
What an immense debt he owed to this noble
lady and her friends!
From Lord Glenarvan, down to the lowest sa=
ilor
on board,
how all had struggled and suffered for
him! Harry Grant
expressed his gratitude with such simplici=
ty
and nobleness,
his manly face suffused with pure and sweet
emotion, that the whole
crew felt amply recompensed for the trials
they had undergone.
Even the impassable Major himself felt a t=
ear
steal down his cheek
in spite of all his self-command; while the
good, simple Paganel
cried like a child who does not care who s=
ees
his tears.
Harry Grant could not take his eyes off his
daughter.
He thought her beautiful, charming; and he=
not
only said so to himself,
but repeated it aloud, and appealed to Lady
Helena for confirmation
of his opinion, as if to convince himself =
that
he was not blinded
by his paternal affection. His boy, too, came in for admirati=
on.
"How he has grown! he is a man!"=
was
his delighted exclamation.
And he covered the two children so dear to=
him
with the kisses
he had been heaping up for them during his=
two
years of absence.
Robert then presented all his friends
successively,
and found means always to vary the formula=
of
introduction,
though he had to say the same thing about
each. The fact was,
each and all had been perfect in the
children's eyes.
John Mangles blushed like a child when his
turn came, and his voice
trembled as he spoke to Mary's father.
Lady Helena gave Captain Grant a narrative=
of
the voyage,
and made him proud of his son and
daughter. She told him of
the young hero's exploits, and how the lad=
had
already paid back
part of the paternal debt to Lord Glenarvan. John Mangles sang<= o:p>
Mary's praises in such terms, that Harry
Grant, acting on a hint
from Lady Helena, put his daughter's hand =
into
that of the brave
young captain, and turning to Lord and Lady
Glenarvan, said:
"My Lord, and you, Madam, also give y=
our
blessing to our children."
When everything had been said and re-said =
over
and over again,
Glenarvan informed Harry Grant about
Ayrton. Grant confirmed
the quartermaster's confession as far as h=
is
disembarkation
on the coast of Australia was concerned.
"He is an intelligent, intrepid
man," he added, "whose passions
have led him astray. May reflection and repentance brin=
g him
to a better mind!"
But before Ayrton was transferred, Harry G=
rant
wished to do the honors
of his rock to his friends. He invited them to visit his wooden
house,
and dine with him in Robinson Crusoe fashi=
on.
Glenarvan and his friends accepted the
invitation most willingly.
Robert and Mary were eagerly longing to see
the solitary house
where their father had so often wept at the
thought of them.
A boat was manned, and the Captain and his=
two
children,
Lord and Lady Glenarvan, the Major, John
Mangles, and Paganel,
landed on the shores of the island.
A few hours sufficed to explore the whole
domain of Harry Grant. It was=
in fact the summit of a submarine mountain=
, a
plateau composed of basaltic
rocks and volcanic DEBRIS. During the geological epochs of the
earth,
this mountain had gradually emerged from t=
he
depths of the Pacific,
through the action of the subterranean fir=
es,
but for ages back
the volcano had been a peaceful mountain, =
and
the filled-up crater,
an island rising out of the liquid plain.<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> Then soil formed.
The vegetable kingdom took possession of t=
his
new land.
Several whalers landed domestic animals th=
ere
in passing; goats and pigs,
which multiplied and ran wild, and the thr=
ee
kingdoms of nature
were now displayed on this island, sunk in=
mid
ocean.
When the survivors of the shipwrecked
BRITANNIA took refuge there,
the hand of man began to organize the effo=
rts
of nature. In two years
and a half, Harry Grant and his two sailors
had metamorphosed the island.
Several acres of well-cultivated land were
stocked with vegetables
of excellent quality.
The house was shaded by luxuriant gum-tree=
s.
The magnificent
ocean stretched before the windows, sparkl=
ing
in the sunlight.
Harry Grant had the table placed beneath t=
he
grand trees,
and all the guests seated themselves. A hind quarter of a goat,
nardou bread, several bowls of milk, two or
three roots of
wild endive, and pure fresh water, composed
the simple repast,
worthy of the shepherds of Arcadia.
Paganel was enchanted. His old fancies about Robinson Cru=
soe
revived in full force. "He is not at all to be pitie=
d,
that scoundrel, Ayrton!" he exclaimed,
enthusiastically.
"This little isle is just a
paradise!"
"Yes," replied Harry Grant, &quo=
t;a
paradise to these poor,
shipwrecked fellows that Heaven had pity o=
n,
but I am sorry
that Maria Theresa was not an extensive and
fertile island,
with a river instead of a stream, and a po=
rt
instead of a tiny
bay exposed to the open sea."
"And why, captain?" asked Glenar=
van.
"Because I should have made it the
foundation of the colony
with which I mean to dower Scotland."=
"Ah, Captain Grant, you have not give=
n up
the project, then, which made
you so popular in our old country?"
"No, my Lord, and God has only saved =
me
through your efforts that I
might accomplish my task. My poor brothers in old Caledonia,=
all who are needy must have a refuge provi=
ded
for them in another
land against their misery, and my dear cou=
ntry
must have a colony
of her own, for herself alone, somewhere in
these seas, where she
may find that independence and comfort she=
so
lacks in Europe."
"Ah, that is very true, Captain
Grant," said Lady Helena.
"This is
a grand project of yours, and worthy of a
noble heart.
But this little isle--"
"No, madam, it is a rock only fit at =
most
to support a few settlers;
while what we need is a vast country, whose
virgin soil abounds
in untouched stores of wealth," repli=
ed
the captain.
"Well, captain," exclaimed
Glenarvan, "the future is ours,
and this country we will seek for
together."
And the two brave Scotchmen joined hands i=
n a
hearty grip
and so sealed the compact.
A general wish was expressed to hear, while
they were on
the island, the account of the shipwreck of
the BRITANNIA,
and of the two years spent by the survivor=
s in
this very place.
Harry Grant was delighted to gratify their
curiosity,
and commenced his narration forthwith.
"My story," he said, "is th=
at
of all the Robinson Cru-soes
cast upon an island, with only God and
themselves to rely on,
and feeling it a duty to struggle for life
with the elements.
"It was during the night of the 26th =
or
27th of June, 1862,
that the BRITANNIA, disabled by a six days'
storm, struck against
the rocks of Maria Theresa. The sea was mountains high,
and lifeboats were useless. My unfortunate crew all perished,<= o:p>
except Bob Learce and Joe Bell, who with
myself managed to reach
shore after twenty unsuccessful attempts.<= o:p>
"The land which received us was only =
an
uninhabited island,
two miles broad and five long, with about
thirty trees
in the interior, a few meadows, and a broo=
k of
fresh water,
which fortunately never dried up. Alone with my sailors, in this
corner of the globe, I did not despair.
and accustomed myself to struggle resolute=
ly
for existence.
Bob and Joe, my brave companions in
misfortune, my friends,
seconded me energetically.
"We began like the fictitious Robinson
Crusoe of Defoe,
our model, by collecting the planks of the
ship, the tools,
a little powder, and firearms, and a bag of
precious seeds.
The first few days were painful enough, but
hunting and fishing
soon afforded us a sure supply of food, for
wild goats were
in abundance in the interior of the island,
and marine animals
abounded on the coast. By degrees we fell into regular wa=
ys
and habits of life.
"I had saved my instruments from the
wreck, and knew exactly the
position of the island. I found we were out of the route of
vessels,
and could not be rescued unless by some
providential chance.
I accepted our trying lot composedly, alwa=
ys
thinking, however,
of my dear ones, remembering them every da=
y in
my prayers,
though never hoping to see them again.
"However, we toiled on resolutely, and
before long several acres of land
were sown with the seed off the BRITANNIA;
potatoes, endive, sorrel,
and other vegetables besides, gave wholeso=
me
variety to our daily fare.
We caught some young kids, which soon grew
quite tame. We had milk
and butter. The nardou, which grew abundantly =
in
dried up creeks,
supplied us with tolerably substantial bre=
ad,
and we had no longer
any fears for our material life.
"We had built a log hut with the DEBR=
IS
of the BRITANNIA,
and this was covered over with sail cloth,
carefully tarred over,
and beneath this secure shelter the rainy
season passed comfortably.
Many a plan was discussed here, and many a
dream indulged in,
the brightest of which is this day realize=
d.
"I had at first the idea of trying to
brave the perils of the ocean
in a canoe made out of the spars of the sh=
ip,
but 1,500 miles lay
between us and the nearest coast, that is =
to
say the islands of the
Archipelago of Pomotou. No boat could have stood so long a
voyage.
I therefore relinquished my scheme, and lo=
oked
for no deliverance
except from a divine hand.
"Ah, my poor children! how often we h=
ave
stood on the top of the rocks
and watched the few vessels passing in the
distance far out at sea.
During the whole period of our exile only =
two
or three vessels appeared
on the horizon, and those only to disappear
again immediately.
Two years and a half were spent in this
manner. We gave up hoping,
but yet did not despair. At last, early yesterday morning, =
when I
was standing on the highest peak of the
island, I noticed a light smoke
rising in the west. It increased, and soon a ship appe=
ared
in sight.
It seemed to be coming toward us. But would it not rather steer clea=
r
of an island where there was no harbor.
"Ah, what a day of agony that was!
My comrades kindled a fire on one of the
peaks. Night came on,
but no signal came from the yacht. Deliverance was there, however.
Were we to see it vanish from our eyes?
"I hesitated no longer. The darkness was growing deeper.
The ship might double the island during the
night.
I jumped into the sea, and attempted to ma=
ke
my way toward it.
Hope trebled my strength, I cleft the waves
with superhuman vigor,
and had got so near the yacht that I was
scarcely thirty fathoms off,
when it tacked about.
"This provoked me to the despairing c=
ry,
which only my two
children heard. It was no illusion.
"Then I came back to the shore, exhau=
sted
and overcome with
emotion and fatigue. My two sailors received me half de=
ad.
It was a horrible night this last we spent=
on
the island,
and we believed ourselves abandoned foreve=
r,
when day dawned,
and there was the yacht sailing nearly
alongside, under easy steam.
Your boat was lowered--we were saved--and,=
oh,
wonder of
Divine goodness, my children, my beloved
children, were there
holding out their arms to me!"
Robert and Mary almost smothered their fat=
her
with kisses and caresses
as he ended his narrative.
It was now for the first time that the cap=
tain
heard that he owed
his deliverance to the somewhat hieroglyph=
ical
document which he had placed in a bottle a=
nd
confined
to the mercy of the ocean.
But what were Jacques Paganel's thoughts
during Captain Grant's recital?
The worthy geographer was turning over in =
his
brain for the thousandth
time the words of the document. He pondered his three successive
interpretations, all of which had proved
false. How had this island,
called Maria Theresa, been indicated in the
papers originally?
At last Paganel could contain himself no
longer, and seizing
Harry Grant's hand, he exclaimed:
"Captain! will you tell me at last wh=
at
really was in
your indecipherable document?"
A general curiosity was excited by this
question of the geographer,
for the enigma which had been for nine mon=
ths
a mystery was about
to be explained.
"Well, captain," repeated Pagane=
l,
"do you remember the precise
words of the document?"
"Exactly," replied Harry Grant;
"and not a day has passed without
my recalling to memory words with which our
last hopes were linked."
"And what are they, captain?" as=
ked
Glenarvan. "Speak, for o=
ur
amour
propre is wounded to the quick!"
"I am ready to satisfy you," rep=
lied
Harry Grant; "but, you know,
to multiply the chances of safety, I had
inclosed three
documents in the bottle, in three different
languages.
Which is it you wish to hear?"
"They are not identical, then?"
cried Paganel.
"Yes, they are, almost to a word.&quo=
t;
"Well, then, let us have the French
document," replied Glenarvan.
"That is the one that is most respect=
ed
by the waves, and the one
on which our interpretations have been mos=
tly
founded."
"My Lord, I will give it you word for
word," replied Harry Grant.
"LE 27 JUIN, 1862, le trois-mats
Britannia, de Glasgow, s'est perdu
a quinze cents lieues de la Patagonie, dans
l'hemisphere austral.
Partes a terre, deux matelots et le Capita=
ine
Grant ont
atteint l'ile Tabor--"
"Oh!" exclaimed Paganel.
"LA," continued Harry Grant,
"continuellement en proie
a une cruelle indigence, ils ont jete ce
document par 153
degrees de longitude et 37 degrees 11' de
latitude.
Venes a leur secours, ou ils sont
perdus."
At the name of Tabor, Paganel had started =
up
hastily, and now being
unable to restrain himself longer, he call=
ed
out:
"How can it be Isle Tabor? Why, this is Maria Theresa!"<= o:p>
"Undoubtedly, Monsieur Paganel,"
replied Harry Grant. "It=
is
Maria Theresa on the English and German
charts, but is named
Tabor on the French ones!"
At this moment a vigorous thump on Paganel=
's shoulder
almost bent
him double. Truth obliges us to say it was the=
Major
that dealt the blow,
though strangely contrary to his usual str=
ict
politeness.
"Geographer!" said McNabbs, in a
tone of the most supreme contempt.
But Paganel had not even felt the Major's hand. What was that compared<= o:p>
to the geographical blow which had stunned
him?
He had been gradually getting nearer the
truth, however,
as he learned from Captain Grant. He had almost
entirely deciphered the indecipherable
document.
The names Patagonia, Australia, New Zealan=
d,
had appeared to him
in turn with absolute certainty. CONTIN, at first CONTINENT,
had gradually reached its true meaning,
continuelle.
Indi had successively signified indiens,
indigenes,
and at last the right word was found--INDI=
GENCE. But one
mutilated word, ABOR, had baffled the
geographer's sagacity.
Paganel had persisted in making it the roo=
t of
the verb ABORDER,
and it turned out to be a proper name, the
French name of the
Isle Tabor, the isle which had been a refu=
ge for
the shipwrecked
sailors of the BRITANNIA. It was difficult to avoid falling =
into
the error, however, for on the English
planispheres on the DUNCAN,
the little isle was marked Maria Theresa.<= o:p>
"No matter?" cried Paganel, tear=
ing
his hair; "I ought not to have
forgotten its double appellation. It is an unpardonable mistake,
one unworthy of a secretary of the
Geographical Society. I am
disgraced!"
"Come, come, Monsieur Paganel," =
said
Lady Helena; "moderate your grief."
"No, madam, no; I am a mere ass!"=
;
"And not even a learned one!" ad=
ded
the Major, by way of consolation.
When the meal was over, Harry Grant put
everything in order
in his house. He took nothing away, wishing the =
guilty
to inherit
the riches of the innocent. Then they returned to the vessel,<= o:p>
and, as Glenarvan had determined to start =
the
same day, he gave
immediate orders for the disembarkation of=
the
quartermaster.
Ayrton was brought up on the poop, and fou=
nd
himself face to face
with Harry Grant.
"It is I, Ayrton!" said Grant
"Yes, it is you, captain," repli=
ed
Ayrton, without the least sign
of surprise at Harry Grant's recovery. "Well, I am not sorry to see<= o:p>
you again in good health."
"It seems, Ayrton, that I made a mist=
ake
in landing you on
an inhabited coast."
"It seems so, captain."
"You are going to take my place on th=
is
uninhabited island.
May Heaven give you repentance!"
"Amen," said Ayrton, calmly.
Glenarvan then addressed the quartermaster=
.
"It is still your wish, then, Ayrton,=
to
be left behind?"
"Yes, my Lord!"
"And Isle Tabor meets your wishes?&qu=
ot;
"Perfectly."
"Now then, listen to my last words,
Ayrton. You will be cut off h=
ere
from all the world, and no communication w=
ith
your fellows is possible.
Miracles are rare, and you will not be abl=
e to
quit this isle.
You will be alone, with no eye upon you but
that of God,
who reads the deepest secrets of the heart;
but you will be neither
lost nor forsaken, as Captain Grant was. Unworthy as you are of
anyone's remembrance, you will not be drop=
ped
out of recollection.
I know where you are, Ayrton; I know where=
to
find you--
I shall never forget."
"God keep your Honor," was all
Ayrton's reply.
These were the final words exchanged betwe=
en
Glenarvan and
the quartermaster. The boat was ready and Ayrton got =
into
it.
John Mangles had previously conveyed to the
island
several cases of preserved food, besides
clothing,
and tools and firearms, and a supply of po=
wder
and shot.
The quartermaster could commence a new lif=
e of
honest labor.
Nothing was lacking, not even books; among=
others,
the Bible,
so dear to English hearts.
The parting hour had come. The crew and all the passengers we=
re
assembled on deck. More than one felt his heart swell=
with
emotion.
Mary Grant and Lady Helena could not restr=
ain
their feelings.
"Must it be done?" said the young
wife to her husband.
"Must the poor man be left there?&quo=
t;
"He must, Helena," replied Lord
Glenarvan. "It is in exp=
iation
of his crimes."
At that moment the boat, in charge of John
Mangles, turned away.
Ayrton, who remained standing, and still
unmoved, took off his cap
and bowed gravely.
Glenarvan uncovered, and all the crew foll=
owed
his example,
as if in presence of a man who was about to
die, and the boat
went off in profound silence.
On reaching land, Ayrton jumped on the san=
dy
shore, and the boat
returned to the yacht. It was then four o'clock in the
afternoon,
and from the poop the passengers could see=
the
quartermaster
gazing at the ship, standing with folded a=
rms
on a rock,
motionless as a statue.
"Shall we set sail, my Lord?" as=
ked
John Mangles.
"Yes, John," replied Glenarvan,
hastily, more moved than he cared to show.
"Go on!" shouted John to the
engineer.
The steam hissed and puffed out, the screw
began to stir the waves,
and by eight o'clock the last peaks of Isle
Tabor disappeared
in the shadows of the night.
ON the 19th of March, eleven days after
leaving the island,
the
anchor in the
after a voyage of five months, during whic=
h,
and keeping strictly
along the 37th parallel, they had gone rou=
nd
the world.
The passengers in this memorable expeditio=
n,
unprecedented in
the annals of the Travelers' Club, had vis=
ited
Chili, the Pampas,
the Argentine Republic, the Atlantic, the
island of Tristan d'Acunha,
the Indian Ocean, Amsterdam Island, Austra=
lia,
New Zealand, Isle Tabor,
and the Pacific. Their search had not been fruitles=
s, for
they
were bringing back the survivors of the sh=
ipwrecked
BRITANNIA.
Not one of the brave Scots who set out at =
the
summons of their chief,
but could answer to their names; all were
returning to their old Scotia.
As soon as the DUNCAN had re-provisioned, =
she
sailed along
the coast of Patagonia, doubled Cape Horn,=
and
made a swift run up
the Atlantic Ocean. No voyage could be more devoid of
incident.
The yacht was simply carrying home a cargo=
of
happiness.
There was no secret now on board, not even
John Mangles's
attachment to Mary Grant.
Yes, there was one mystery still, which
greatly excited
McNabbs's curiosity. Why was it that Paganel remained a=
lways
hermetically fastened up in his clothes, w=
ith
a big comforter
round his throat and up to his very ears?<=
span
style=3D'mso-spacerun:yes'> The Major was burning
with desire to know the reason of this
singular fashion.
But in spite of interrogations, allusions,=
and
suspicions
on the part of McNabbs, Paganel would not
unbutton.
Not even when the DUNCAN crossed the line,=
and
the heat
was so great that the seams of the deck we=
re
melting.
"He is so DISTRAIT that he thinks he =
is
at St. Petersburg,"
said the Major, when he saw the geographer
wrapped in an immense
great-coat, as if the mercury had been fro=
zen
in the thermometer.
At last on the 9th of May, fifty-three days
from the time
of leaving Talcahuano, John Mangles sighted
the lights
of Cape Clear. The yacht entered St. George's Cha=
nnel,
crossed the Irish Sea, and on the 10th of =
May
reached the Firth
of Clyde.=
At 11 o'clock she dropped anchor off Dunbarton,
and at 2 P.M. the passengers arrived at
Malcolm Castle amidst
the enthusiastic cheering of the Highlande=
rs.
As fate would have it then, Harry Grant and
his two companions
were saved. John Mangles wedded Mary Grant in =
the
old cathedral
of St. Mungo, and Mr. Paxton, the same
clergyman who had
prayed nine months before for the delivera=
nce
of the father,
now blessed the marriage of his daughter a=
nd
his deliverer.
Robert was to become a sailor like Harry G=
rant
and John Mangles,
and take part with them in the captain's g=
rand
projects,
under the auspices of Lord Glenarvan.
But fate also decreed that Paganel was not=
to
die a bachelor?
Probably so.
The fact was, the learned geographer after=
his
heroic exploits,
could not escape celebrity. His blunders made quite a FURORE a=
mong
the fashionables of Scotland, and he was
overwhelmed with courtesies.
It was then that an amiable lady, about th=
irty
years of age,
in fact, a cousin of McNabbs, a little
eccentric herself, but good
and still charming, fell in love with the
geographer's oddities,
and offered him her hand. Forty thousand pounds went with it=
,
but that was not mentioned.
Paganel was far from being insensible to t=
he
sentiments of Miss Arabella,
but yet he did not dare to speak. It was the Major who was the mediu=
m
of communication between these two souls,
evidently made for each other.
He even told Paganel that his marriage was=
the
last freak he would be
able to allow himself. Paganel was in a great state of
embarrassment,
but strangely enough could not make up his
mind to speak the fatal word.
"Does not Miss Arabella please you
then?" asked McNabbs.
"Oh, Major, she is charming,"
exclaimed Paganel, "a thousand times
too charming, and if I must tell you all, =
she
would please me better
if she were less so. I wish she had a defect!"
"Be easy on that score," replied=
the
Major, "she has, and more than one.
The most perfect woman in the world has al=
ways
her quota.
So, Paganel, it is settled then, I
suppose?"
"I dare not."
"Come, now, my learned friend, what m=
akes
you hesitate?"
"I am unworthy of Miss Arabella,"
was the invariable reply
of the geographer. And to this he would stick.
At last, one day being fairly driven in a
corner by the intractable Major,
he ended by confiding to him, under the se=
al
of secrecy, a certain
peculiarity which would facilitate his
apprehension should the police
ever be on his track.
"Bah!" said the Major.
"It is really as I tell you,"
replied Paganel.
"What does it matter, my worthy
friend?"
"Do you think so, Major?"
"On the contrary, it only makes you m=
ore
uncommon.
It adds to your personal merits. It is the very thing to make
you the nonpareil husband that Arabella dr=
eams
about."
And the Major with imperturbable gravity l=
eft
Paganel in a state
of the utmost disquietude.
A short conversation ensued between McNabbs
and Miss Arabella.
A fortnight afterwards, the marriage was
celebrated in grand style
in the chapel of Malcolm Castle. Paganel looked magnificent,
but closely buttoned up, and Miss Arabella=
was
arrayed in splendor.
And this secret of the geographer would ha=
ve
been forever buried
in oblivion, if the Major had not mentione=
d it
to Glenarvan,
and he could not hide it from Lady Helena,=
who
gave a hint
to Mrs. Mangles. To make a long story short, it got=
in
the end
to M. Olbinett's ears, and soon became noi=
sed
abroad.
Jacques Paganel, during his three days'
captivity among
the Maories, had been tattooed from the fe=
et
to the shoulders,
and he bore on his chest a heraldic kiwi w=
ith
outspread wings,
which was biting at his heart.
This was the only adventure of his grand
voyage that Paganel could never
get over, and he always bore a grudge to N=
ew
Zealand on account of it.
It was for this reason too, that,
notwithstanding solicitation
and regrets, he never would return to
France. He dreaded lest
he should expose the whole Geographical
Society in his person
to the jests of caricaturists and low
newspapers, by their secretary
coming back tattooed.
The return of the captain to Scotland was a
national event,
and Harry Grant was soon the most popular =
man
in old Caledonia. His son
Robert became a sailor like himself and
Captain Mangles, and under
the patronage of Lord Glenarvan they resum=
ed
the project of founding
a Scotch colony in the Southern Seas.