Продаем оптом и в розницу люстры интернет магазин Перфекто лаит . Подруга показала бутик на Новокузнецкой, там интернет магазин guess сумки. Мне магазин понравился! . Посмотрите красивые лестницы в этом каталоге. Project Gutenberg Etext In Search of the Castaways by Jules Verne
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In Search of the Castaways
by Jules Verne
February, 2000 [Etext #2083]
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This etext was prepared by Judy Boss, Omaha, NE
Note: I have made the following changes to the text:
PAGE LINE ORIGINAL CHANGED TO
5 31 drank drunk
13 22 shores. shores."
13 27 Lady Glenarvan. Lord Glenarvan.
16 29 up ,Halbert." up, Halbert."
25 13 <i>sang froid</i>. <i>sang-froid</i>.
25 26 maneuvring maneuvering
31 12 unmistakingly unmistakably
34 19 Celedonian Caledonian
36 27 France. France."
40 28 occular ocular
51 38 exceptions exception
52 6 prisoniers</i>, prisonniers</i>,
53 34 reconnoitred reconnoitered
54 38 Corientes Corrientes
56 10 Colts Colt's
63 32 have attempted would have attempted
67 30 Mount Blanc. Mont Blanc.
67 36 Nevados Nevadas
62 38 impassible." impassable."
83 20 returns returned
83 38 Cameans, Camoens,
87 12 Argentile Argentine
96 25 sore of sort of
98 26 had drank had drunk
99 18 Vantana, Ventana,
100 21 drank drunk
102 19 minute's minutes'
103 29 comrades' comrade's
104 21 them. them."
104 24 <i>rio a ramada</i> <i>rio</i> a <i>ramada</i>
109 21 time. time."
110 34 wolf wolf;
112 33 never! never!"
113 38 <i>ramado</i>, <i>ramada</i>,
116 13 drank drunk
116 15 nandou <i>nandou</i>
118 30 estancias, <i>estancias</i>,
120 28 <i>tolderai</i>, <i>tolderia</i>,
133 28 fugitive fugitives
134 21 tumultous tumultuous
135 21 hilgueros, <i>hilgueros</i>,
144 1 thegonie, theogonie,
144 30 Glascow Glasgow
144 36 prisoniers prisonniers
144 39 aplied applied
147 15 sub-species. sub-species."
152 4 aproaching approaching
153 17 mation. mation."
156 36 terra firma. <i>terra firma</i>.
159 1 Glenarvan. Glenarvan,
176 40 Mangle's Mangles'
178 16 <i>debris</i> <i>débris</i>
180 8 ports port
187 33 Purday-Moore Purdy-Moore
190 5 longtitude longitude
191 37 warning warring
193 10 <i>denouement</i> <i>dénouement</i>
195 19 rectillinear rectilinear
196 31 Pour "Pour
199 20 shipwrecked. shipwrecked
200 33 Britany. Britanny.
202 24 handsbreath. handsbreadth.
205 16 kow know
205 39 37°" 37°."
206 42 Glasglow Glasgow
214 41 <i>role</i> role
218 10 mounteback's mountebank's
219 18 day's days'
222 13 monothremes; monotremes;
223 21 mleancholy melancholy
232 35 Glenarvan, Glenarvan
234 32 able but ible but
243 10 Pomoton?" Pomotou?"
243 37 Britanic Britannic
249 6 McNabb's McNabbs
250 24 midst. mist.
251 40 but "but
253 29 terrestial terrestrial
256 11 his oasis, this oasis,
261 28 continuel continual
268 33 alluvion, alluvium,
271 26 aerial aérial
272 3 wagan, wagon,
272 7 gastralobium, gastrolobium,
272 34 Wimmero." Wimmera."
273 37 <i>sang <i>sang-
273 41 wo- woe-
274 40 two "two
280 11 disapepared. disappeared.
281 6 <i>denouement</i> <i>dénouement</i>
281 13 Joye, Joyce,
282 29 It it It is
284 9 sorrrow, sorrow,
284 23 eurus emus
287 35 37 degree 37th degree
288 15 <i>sang froid</i> <i>sang-froid</i>
312 29 wretches?" wretches!"
314 24 impassible. impassive.
316 41 fancy. fancy."
326 35 impossisble impossible
327 41 him. him."
335 27 patience. patience."
339 15 1864. 1864."
339 41 Tarankai Taranaki
340 10 Taranak Taranaki
341 15 Taranki Taranaki
347 11 Waikato?" Waikato!"
347 18 buscuit biscuit
348 30 irrefragable irrefragible
348 37 musquito. mosquito.
350 35 Adressing Addressing
352 42 lines of line of
356 41 Tohongo, Tohonga,
357 8 tuers tures
360 24 McNabb's McNabbs'
364 20 orgie orgy
374 5 piron- Piron-
378 36 Ikana-Mani Ika-na-Mani
386 41 soup ,which soup, which
395 10 "moas' "moas"
402 14 exciting excited
418 13 <i>Juin</i> ,1862 <i>Juin</i>, 1862
On page 390 I have omitted the following redundant line 40,
which properly begins page 391, as in the original text:
and his wonderful instinct shone out anew in this difficult
In addition, I have made the following changes to the chapter headings
and running heads:
PAGE ORIGINAL CHANGED TO
24 DUNCAN "DUNCAN"
25 DUNCAN "DUNCAN"
27 DUNCAN "DUNCAN"
35 JAQUES JACQUES
37 JAQUES JACQUES
204 BRITANNIA "BRITANNIA"
398 DUNCAN "DUNCAN"
WORKS
of
JULES VERNE
EDITED BY
CHARLES F. HORNE, Ph.D.
Professor of English, College of the City of New York;
Author of "The Technique of the Novel," etc.
[colophon omitted]
F. TYLER DANIELS COMPANY, INC.
NEW YORK :: :: LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1911
BY VINCENT PARKE AND COMPANY
CONTENTS
VOLUME FOUR
PAGE
INTRODUCTION . . . . . . . . 1
IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
SOUTH AMERICA . . . . . . 3
AUSTRALIA . . . . . . . 165
NEW ZEALAND . . . . . . . 305
[page intentionally blank]
ILLUSTRATIONS
VOLUME FOUR
PAGE
THE RESCUE . . . . . Frontispiece
THE CONDOR'S PREY . . . . . . 96
"TABOO!" . . . . . . . . . 320
[page intentionally blank]
<i>INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME FOUR
THE three books gathered under the title "In
Search of the Castaways" occupied much of
Verne's attention during the three years fol-
lowing 1865. The characters used in these
books were afterwards reintroduced in "The
Mysterious Island," which was in its turn a sequel to
"Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea." Thus this
entire set of books form a united series upon which Verne
worked intermittently during ten years.
"In Search of the Castaways," which has also been pub-
lished as "The Children of Captain Grant" and as "A Voy-
age Around the World," is perhaps most interesting in con-
nection with the last of these titles. It is our author's first
distinctly geographical romance. By an ingenious device he
sets before the rescuers a search which compels their circum-
navigation of the globe around a certain parallel of the
southern hemisphere. Thus they cross in turn through
South America, Australia and New Zealand, besides visiting
minor islands.
The three great regions form the sub-titles of the three
books which compose the story. In each region the rescuers
meet with adventures characteristic of the land. They en-
counter Indians in America; bushrangers in Australia; and
Maoris in New Zealand. The passage of the searching
party gives ground, -- one is almost tempted to say, excuse,
-- for a close and careful description of each country and of
its inhabitants, step by step. Even the lesser incidents of
the story are employed to emphasise the distinctive features
of each land. The explorers are almost frozen on the
heights of the Andes, and almost drowned in the floods of
the Patagonian Pampas. An avalanche sweeps some of
them away; a condor carries off a lad. In Australia they</i>
1
2 <i>INTRODUCTION
are stopped by jungles and by quagmires; they hunt kan-
garoos. In New Zealand they take refuge amid hot sulphur
springs and in a house "tabooed"; they escape by starting
a volcano into eruption.
Here then are fancy and extravagance mixed with truth
and information. Verne has done a vast and useful work
in stimulating the interest not only of Frenchmen but of all
civilised nations, with regard to the lesser known regions of
our globe. He has broadened knowledge and guided study.
During the years following 1865 he even, for a time, de-
serted his favorite field of labor, fiction, and devoted him-
self to a popular semi-scientific book, now superseded by
later works, entitled "The Illustrated Geography of France
and her Colonies."
Verne has perhaps had a larger share than any other sin-
gle individual in causing the ever-increasing yearly tide of
international travel. And because with mutual knowledge
among the nations comes mutual understanding and appre-
ciation, mutual brotherhood; hence Jules Verne was one of
the first and greatest of those teachers who are now leading
us toward International Peace.</i>
<b>In Search of the Castaways</b>
or
The Children of Captain Grant
<b>South America</b>
CHAPTER I
THE SHARK
ON the 26th of July, 1864, a magnificent yacht
was steaming along the North Channel at full
speed, with a strong breeze blowing from the
N. E. The Union Jack was flying at the
mizzen-mast, and a blue standard bearing the
initials E. G., embroidered in gold, and sur-
mounted by a ducal coronet, floated from the topgallant head
of the main-mast. The name of the yacht was the <i>Duncan</i>,
and the owner was Lord Glenarvan, one of the sixteen
Scotch peers who sit in the Upper House, and the most dis-
tinguished member of the Royal Thames Yacht Club, so
famous throughout the United Kingdom.
Lord Edward Glenarvan was on board with his young
wife, Lady Helena, and one of his cousins, Major Mc-
Nabbs.
The <i>Duncan</i> was newly built, and had been making a
trial trip a few miles outside the Firth of Clyde. She was
returning to Glasgow, 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 cousin, and
asked John Mangles, the captain, what sort of an animal he
thought it was.
"Well, since your Lordship asks my opinion," said
Mangles, "I think it is a shark, and a fine large one too."
"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
3
4 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
hammer-headed shark, if I am not much mistaken. But if
your Lordship has no objections, 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," 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 deck, quite
charmed at the prospect of such exciting sport. The sea
was splendid, and every movement of the shark was dis-
tinctly visible. In obedience to the captain's orders, the
sailors threw a strong rope over the starboard side of the
yacht, with a big hook at the end of it, concealed 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 double ham-
mer at the end of a handle. John Mangles was right.
This was evidently a balance-fish -- the most voracious of
all the <i>squalidae</i> species.
The passengers and sailors on the yacht were watching
all the animal's movements with the liveliest interest. He
soon came within reach of the bait, turned over on his back
to make a good dart at it, and in a second bacon and con-
tents had disappeared. He had hooked himself now, as
the tremendous jerk he gave the cable proved, and the sail-
ors began to haul in the monster by means of tackle attached
to the mainyard. He struggled desperately, but his cap-
tors 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 over the side of the yacht and thrown on the
THE SHARK 5
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 satis-
fied, their curiosity was not; they knew the brute had no
very delicate appetite, and the contents of his stomach might
be worth investigation. This is the common practice on all
ships when a shark is captured, but Lady Glenarvan de-
clined to be present at such 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 uncere-
monious fashion. The hook had fixed right in the stom-
ach, which was found to be absolutely empty, and the dis-
appointed sailors 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 exclaimed.
"That!" replied one of the sailors, "why, it's a piece of
rock the beast swallowed by way of ballast."
"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 <i>Duncan</i>. "Don't you see the animal has been
such 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 bottle that the shark has got in his stomach."
"Ay, it is a bottle, most certainly," replied the boatswain,
"but not just from the cellar."
"Well, Tom, be careful how you take it out," said Lord
Glenarvan, "for bottles found in the sea often contain pre-
cious documents."
"Do you think this does?" said Major McNabbs, incred-
ulously.
"It possibly may, at any rate."
6 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"Oh! I'm not saying it doesn't. There may perhaps
be some secret in it," returned the Major.
"That's just what we're to see," said his cousin. "Well,
Tom."
"Here it is," said the mate, holding up a shapeless lump
he had managed to pull out, though with some difficulty.
"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 Helena, for women, they say, are always a little curi-
ous. 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 disaster, or brought some trifling message
from a frolic-loving sailor, 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 examine the bot-
tle, 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 the thick rim there
was still an end of wire hanging, though eaten away with
rust. The sides were very thick, and strong enough to
bear great pressure. It was evidently of Champagne ori-
gin, and the Major said immediately, "That's one of our
Clicquot's bottles."
Nobody contradicted him, as he was supposed 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 over 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 Glenar-
van.
THE SHARK 7
"Wait a little, dear Helena, wait; we must have patience
with bottles; but if I am not much mistaken, this one will
answer all our questions," replied her husband, beginning
to scrape away the hard substances round the neck. Soon
the cork made its appearance, but much damaged by the
water.
"That's vexing," said Lord Edward, "for if papers are
inside, they'll be in a pretty state!"
"It's to be feared they will," said 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 John 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 study-
ing 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 whole
saloon, and Lady Helena asked impatiently: "Well, what
is there?"
"I was right!" exclaimed Glenarvan. "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," suggested
John Mangles.
"Try it, Edward, try it," said Lady Helena.
Lord Glenarvan was very unwilling, but he found there
was no alternative; the precious bottle must be broken.
They had to get a hammer before this could be done, though,
for the stony material had acquired the hardness of gran-
ite. A few sharp strokes, however, soon shivered it to
fragments, many of which had pieces of paper sticking to
8 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
them. These were carefully removed by Lord Glenarvan,
and separated and spread out on the table before the eager
gaze of his wife and friends.
CHAPTER II
THE THREE DOCUMENTS
ALL that could be discovered, however, on these pieces
of paper was a few words here and there, the remainder of
the lines being almost completely obliterated by the action
of the water. Lord Glenarvan examined them attentively
for a few minutes, turning them over on all sides, holding
them 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 here,
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 Helena, the words are
quite incomplete."
"Perhaps the one may supplement the other," suggested
Major McNabbs.
"Very likely they will," said the captain. "It is impos-
sible 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," rejoined Lord Glenarvan;
"but let us proceed methodically. Here is the English doc-
ument first."
All that remained of it was the following:
62 <i>Bri gow
sink stra
aland
skipp Gr
that monit of long
and ssistance
lost</i>
"There's not much to be made out of that," said the
Major, looking disappointed.
THE THREE DOCUMENTS 9
"No, but it is good English anyhow," returned the cap-
tain.
"There's no doubt of it," said Glenarvan. "The words
<i>sink, aland, lost</i> are entire; <i>skipp</i> is evidently part of the
word <i>skipper</i>, and that's what they call ship captains often
in England. There seems a Mr. Gr. mentioned, and that
most likely is the captain of the shipwrecked vessel."
"Well, come, we have made out a good deal already,"
said Lady Helena.
"Yes, but unfortunately there are whole 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," 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
and there.
It ran as follows:
<i>7 Juni Glas
zwei atrosen
graus
bringt ihnen</i>
"This is written in German," said John Mangles the
moment he looked at it.
"And you understand that language, don't you?" asked
Lord Glenarvan.
"Perfectly."
"Come, then, tell us the meaning of these words."
The captain examined the document carefully, and said:
"Well, here's the date of the occurrence first: <i>7 Juni</i>
means June 7; and if we put that before the figures 62 we
have in the other document, it gives us the exact date, <i>7th
of June</i>, 1862."
"Capital!" exclaimed Lady Helena. "Go on, John!"
"On the same line," resumed the young captain, "there
is the syllable <i>Glas</i> and if we add that to the <i>gow</i> we found
in the English paper, we get the whole word <i>Glasgow</i> at
once. The documents evidently refer to some ship that
sailed out of the port of Glasgow."
10 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"That is my opinion, too," said the Major.
"The second line is completely effaced," continued the
Captain; "but here are two important words on the third.
There is <i>zwei</i>, which means <i>two</i>, and <i>atrosen</i> or <i>matrosen</i>,
the German for <i>sailors</i>."
"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 throw some light on it. The last two words
are plain enough. <i>Bringt ihnen</i> means <i>bring them;</i> and, if
you recollect, in the English paper we had <i>ssistance</i>, so by
putting the parts together, it reads thus, I think: '<i>Bring
them assistance</i>.'"
"Yes, that must be it," replied Lord Glenarvan. "But
where are the poor fellows? We have not the slightest
indication of the place, meantime, nor of where the catas-
trophe happened."
"Perhaps the French copy will be more explicit," sug-
gested Lady Helena.
"Here it is, then," said Lord Glenarvan, "and that is in
a language we all know."
The words it contained were these:
<i>troi ats tannia
gonie austral
abor
contin pr cruel indi
jete ongit
et</i> 37° 11" <i>lat</i>
"There are figures!" exclaimed Lady Helena. "Look!"
"Let us go steadily to work," said 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 <i>Britannia</i>. As to the next two words,
<i>gonie</i> and <i>austral</i>, it is only <i>austral</i> that has any meaning
to us."
"But that is a valuable scrap of information," said John
Mangles. "The shipwreck occurred in the southern hemi-
sphere."
THE THREE DOCUMENTS 11
"That's a wide world," said the Major.
"Well, we'll go on," resumed Glenarvan. "Here is the
word <i>abor;</i> that is clearly the root of the verb <i>aborder</i>.
The poor men have landed somewhere; but where? <i>Con-
tin</i> -- does that mean continent? <i>Cruel!</i>"
"<i>Cruel!</i>" interrupted John Mangles. "I see now what
<i>graus</i> is part of in the second document. It is <i>grausam</i>,
the word in German for <i>cruel!</i>"
"Let's go on," said Lord Glenarvan, becoming quite
excited over his task, as the incomplete words began to
fill up and develop their meaning. "<i>Indi</i>, -- is it India
where they have been shipwrecked? And what can this
word <i>ongit</i> be part of? Ah! I see -- it is <i>longitude;</i> and
here is the latitude, 37° 11". 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 exact latitude. The
French document is decidedly the most complete of the
three; but it is plain enough that each is the literal transla-
tion of the other, for they all contain exactly the same num-
ber 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 logi-
cal 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 John Mangles, "and be-
sides, we're all familiar with the language."
"Very well, then, I'll set to work."
In a few minutes he had written as follows:
<i>7 Juin</i> 1862 <i>trois-mats Britannia Glasgow
sombre gonie austral
a terre deux matelots
capitaine Gr abor
contin pr cruel indi
jete ce document de longitude
et</i> 37° 11" <i>de latitude Portez-leur secours
perdus</i>.
12 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
[7th of June, 1862 three-mast <i>Britannia</i> Glasgow]
foundered gonie southern
on the coast two sailors Gr
Captain landed
contin pr cruel indi
thrown this document in longitude
and 37° 11" latitude Bring them assistance
lost
Just at that moment one of the sailors came 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 London and lay this document before the Admiralty."
The sailor received orders accordingly, and went out to
deliver them to the mate.
"Now, friends," said Lord Glenarvan, "let us go on
with our investigations, for we are on the track of a great
catastrophe, and the lives of several human beings depend
on our sagacity. We must give our whole minds to the
solution 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 <i>Britannia</i> of Glasgow, foun-
dered; that two sailors and the captain threw this docu-
ment into the sea in 37° 11" latitude, and they entreat help."
"Exactly so," said the Major.
"What are those now we may conjecture?" continued
Glenarvan. "That the shipwreck occurred in the south-
ern seas; and here I would draw your attention at once to
the incomplete word <i>gonie</i>. Doesn't the name of the coun-
try strike you even in the mere mention of it?"
"Patagonia!" exclaimed Lady Helena.
"Undoubtedly."
"But is Patagonia crossed by the 37th parallel?" asked
the Major.
"That is easily ascertained," said the captain, opening
a map of South America. "Yes, it is; Patagonia just
touches the 37th parallel. It cuts through Araucania, goes
THE THREE DOCUMENTS 13
along over the Pampas to the north, and loses itself in the
Atlantic."
"Well, let us proceed then with our conjectures. The
two sailors and the captain <i>land</i> -- land where? <i>Contin</i> --
on a continent; on a continent, mark you, not an island.
What becomes of them? There are two letters here provi-
dentially which give a clew to their fate -- <i>pr</i>, that must
mean prisoners, and <i>cruel Indian</i> is evidently the meaning
of the next two words. These unfortunate men are cap-
tives 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 contagious, for the others
all exclaimed, too, "Yes, it is evident, quite evident!"
After an instant, Lord Edward said again, "To my own
mind the hypothesis is so plausible, that I have no doubt
whatever the event occurred on the coast of Patagonia, but
still I will have inquiries made in Glasgow, as to the des-
tination of the <i>Britannia</i>, and we shall know if it is possi-
ble she could have been wrecked on those shores."
"Oh, there's no need to send so far to find out that,"
said John Mangles. "I have the <cite>Mercantile and Shipping
Gazette</cite> here, and we'll see the name on the list, and all
about it."
"Do look at once, then," said Lord Glenarvan.
The file of papers for the year 1862 was soon brought,
and John began to turn over the leaves rapidly, running
down each page with his eye in search of the name 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 cargo
for Glasgow, the <i>Britannia</i>, Captain Grant.'"
"Grant!" exclaimed Lord Glenarvan. "That is the ad-
venturous Scotchman that attempted to found a new Scot-
land on the shores of the Pacific."
"Yes," rejoined John Mangles, "it is the very man. He
sailed from Glasgow in the <i>Britannia</i> in 1861, and has not
been heard of since."
"There isn't a doubt of it, not a shadow of doubt," re-
peated Lord Glenarvan. "It is just that same Captain
Grant. The <i>Britannia</i> left Callao on the 30th of May, and
14 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
on the 7th of June, a week afterward, she is lost on the coast
of Patagonia. The few broken disjointed words we find
in these documents tell us the 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 alone, I would engage to go right to the place
where the wreck happened."
"Then have we really all the particulars now?" asked
Lady Helena.
"All, dear Helena; I can fill up every one of these
blanks 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, <i>Britannia</i>, of Glasgow, has sunk on the coast
of Patagonia, in the southern hemisphere. Making for the
shore, two sailors and Captain Grant are about to land on
the continent, where they will be taken prisoners by cruel
Indians. They have thrown this document into the sea, in
longitude and latitude 37° 11". Bring them assistance, or
they are lost."
"Capital! capital! dear Edward," said Lady Helena.
"If those 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 for
England to hesitate about going to the aid of her three sons
cast away on a desert coast. What she has done for Frank-
lin and so many others, she will do to-day for these poor
shipwrecked fellows of the <i>Britannia</i>."
"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 forget to let them
know that there is still hope. But now, friends, we had bet-
ter 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 Cas-
tle, and Lord Glenarvan bade adieu to his young wife, and
jumped into the express train for Glasgow.
THE CAPTAIN'S CHILDREN 15
But before starting he confided an important missive to
a swifter agent than himself, and a few minutes afterward
it flashed along the electric wire to London, to appear next
day in the <i>Times and Morning Chronicle</i> in the following
words: "For information respecting the fate of the three-
mast vessel <i>Britannia</i>, of Glasgow, Captain Grant, apply to
Lord Glenarvan, Malcolm Castle, Luss, Dumbartonshire,
Scotland."
CHAPTER III
THE CAPTAIN'S CHILDREN
LORD GLENARVAN'S fortune was enormous, and he spent
it entirely in doing good. His kindheartedness was even
greater than his generosity, for the one knew no bounds,
while the other, of necessity, had its limits. As Lord of
Luss and "laird" 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 England, be-
cause of the tenacity with which he clung to the traditions
of his forefathers, and his energetic resistance to the polit-
ical encroachments of Southerners. And yet he was not a
man behind the times, and there was nothing little or nar-
row-minded about him; but while always keeping open his
ancestral county to progress, he was a true Scotchman
at heart, and it was for the honor of Scotland 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 was
an exceeding sweetness in his look, and a stamp of High-
land poetry about his whole bearing. He was known to
be brave to excess, and full of daring and chivalry -- a Fer-
gus of the nineteenth century; but his goodness excelled
every other quality, and he was more charitable than St.
Martin himself, for he 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 victims of
geographical science and of the passion for discovery. Miss
16 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 that
she would inherit her father's predilections. He had the
<i>Duncan</i> built expressly that he might take his bride to the
most beautiful lands in the world, and complete their honey-
moon by sailing up the Mediterranean, and through the
clustering islands of the Archipelago.
However, Lord Glenarvan had gone now to London.
The lives of the shipwrecked men were at stake, and Lady
Helena 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?" asked Lady Helena.
"No, madame," replied the steward, "I do not know
them at all. They came by rail to Balloch, and walked
the 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;
her 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 twelve, but his face expressed such deter-
mination, 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?"
"No," replied the boy, in a decided tone; "not to you,
but to Lord Glenarvan."
V. IV Verne
THE CAPTAIN'S CHILDREN 17
"Excuse him, ma'am," said the girl, 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 any-
thing for you --"
"You are Lady Glenarvan?" interrupted the girl.
"I am."
"The wife of Lord Glenarvan, of Malcolm Castle, that
put an announcement in the <i>Times</i> about the shipwreck
of the <i>Britannia?</i>"
"Yes, yes," said Lady Helena, eagerly; "and you?"
"I am Miss Grant, ma'am, and this is my brother."
"Miss Grant, Miss Grant!" exclaimed 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
that 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 seized Lady Glenar-
van'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 Patagonia, and that he and
two sailors, the sole survivors, 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 devouring the
speaker with his eyes, and hanging on her lips. His child-
ish imagination evidently retraced all the scenes of his
father's shipwreck. He saw him on the deck of the <i>Bri-
tannia</i>, and then struggling with the billows, then cling-
ing to the rocks, and lying at length exhausted on the
beach.
18 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
More than once he cried out, "Oh, papa! 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," replied Lady Helena.
"You haven't it?"
"No. Lord Glenarvan was obliged to take it to London,
for the sake of your father; but I have told you all it con-
tained, 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 the 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
out a ship immediately in search of Captain Grant."
"Is it possible, ma'am," exclaimed 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 emo-
tion."
"My dear girl, we deserve no thanks; anyone in our
place would have done the same. I only trust the hopes
we are leading 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!" interrupted Lady Helena;
"you and your brother are not strangers in this house, and
I should like Lord Glenarvan to be able on his arrival to
tell the children 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.
CHAPTER IV
LADY GLENARVAN'S PROPOSAL
LADY HELENA thought it best to say nothing to the chil-
dren about the fears Lord Glenarvan had expressed in his
letters respecting the decisions of the Lords of the Ad-
miralty with regard to the document. Nor did she men-
tion the probable captivity of Captain Grant among the
Indians of South America. Why sadden 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 turn,
asking her about her past life and her present circum-
stances.
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 dur-
ing 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 merchant service. He lived in
Dundee, in Perthshire, Scotland. His father, a minister
of St. Katrine's Church, had given him a thorough educa-
tion, as he believed that could never hurt anybody.
Harry's voyages were prosperous from the first, and a
few years after Robert was born, he found himself pos-
sessed of a considerable fortune.
It was then that he projected the grand scheme which
made him popular in Scotland. Like Glenarvan, and a
few noble families in the Lowlands, he had no heart for
the union with England. In his eyes the interests of his
country were not identified with those of the Anglo-Sax-
ons, and to give scope for personal development, he resolved
to found an immense Scotch colony on one of the ocean
continents. Possibly he might have thought that some day
they would achieve their independence, as the United States
did -- an example doubtless to be followed eventually by
Australia and India. But whatever might be his secret
motives, such was his dream of colonization. But, as is
easily understood, the Government opposed his plans, and
19
20 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 the
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 months, or up to May,
1862, letters were regularly received from him, but no
tidings whatever had come since his departure from Callao,
in June, and the name of the <i>Britannia</i> never appeared 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 herself entirely
to her little brother, who was still a mere child. By dint
of close economy, combined with tact 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 touching manner in
Dundee, struggling patiently and courageously with their
poverty. Mary thought only of her brother, and indulged
in dreams of a prosperous future for him. She had long
given up all hope of the <i>Britannia</i>, and was fully persuaded
that her father was dead. What, then, was her emotion
when she accidentally saw the notice in the <i>Times!</i>
She never hesitated for an instant as to the course she
should adopt, but determined to go to Dumbartonshire im-
mediately, 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 sus-
pense.
She told her brother about the advertisement, and the two
children started off together that same day for Perth, where
they took the train, and arrived in the evening at Malcolm
Castle.
Such was Mary Grant's sorrowful story, and she re-
counted it in so simple and unaffected a manner, that it was
evident she never thought her conduct had been that of a
LADY GLENARVAN'S PROPOSAL 21
heroine through those long trying years. But Lady Helena
thought it for her, and more than once she put her arms
round both the children, and could not restrain her tears.
As for Robert, he seemed to have heard these particulars
for the first time. All the while his sister was speaking, he
gazed at her with wide-open eyes, only knowing now how
much she had done and suffered for him; and, as she ended,
he flung himself on her neck, and exclaimed, "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, dream-
ing of happy days.
After they had retired. Lady Helena sent for Major Mc-
Nabbs, 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 chil-
dren's sake," said his cousin. "It would be terrible for
them if he did not."
"He will be sure to succeed, or the Lords of the Ad-
miralty must have hearts harder than Portland stone."
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 early next
morning, and were walking about in the courtyard when
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 moment he
alighted; but he embraced her silently, and looked gloomy
and disappointed -- indeed, even furious.
"Well, Edward?" she said; "tell me."
"Well, Helena, dear; those people have no heart!"
"They have refused?"
"Yes. They have refused me a ship! They talked of
the millions that had been wasted in search for Franklin,
and declared the document was obscure and unintelligible.
And, then, they said it was two years now since they were
cast away, and there was little chance of finding them. Be-
sides, they would have it that the Indians, who made them
prisoners, would have dragged them into the interior, and it
22 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
was impossible, they said, to hunt all through Patagonia
for three men -- three Scotchmen; 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. The truth is, they re-
membered 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!" cried Mary Grant, throw-
ing herself on her knees before Lord Glenarvan, who ex-
claimed 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 --"
He said no more, and there was a painful silence in the
courtyard, broken only by sobs. No one spoke, but the very
attitude of both servants and masters spoke their indignation
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 little Robert, "I'll go and
speak to those people myself, and we'll see if they --"
He did not complete his sentence, for his sister stopped him;
but his clenched 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, and
never cease to think of them with gratitude; and then we'll
both go together."
"Mary!" said Lady Helena, in a tone of surprise.
"Go where?" asked Lord Glenarvan.
"I am going to throw myself at the Queen's feet, and we
shall see if she will turn a deaf ear to the prayers 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 never
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 their
LADY GLENARVAN'S PROPOSAL 23
ships: <i>Passengers are requested not to speak to the man at
the wheel</i>.
Lady Glenarvan understood what was passing in her hus-
band's mind, and she felt the young girl's attempt would 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 listen to
what I'm going to say."
Mary had just taken her brother by the hand, and turned
to go away; but she stepped back at Lady Helena's bidding.
The young wife went up to her husband, and said, with
tears in her eyes, though her voice was firm, and her face
beamed 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! Un-
doubtedly God intends us to undertake the rescue of these
poor men."
"What do you mean, Helena?"
"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 pleasure, or be so
useful, as to save those unfortunate fellows, cast off by their
country?"
"Helena!" exclaimed Lord Glenarvan.
"Yes, Edward, you understand me. The <i>Duncan</i> is a
good strong ship, she can venture in the Southern Seas, or
go round the world if necessary. Let us go, Edward; let
us start off and search for Captain Grant!"
Lord Glenarvan made no reply to this bold proposition,
but smiled, and, holding out his arms, drew his wife into a
close, fond embrace. Mary and Robert seized her hands,
and covered them with kisses; and the servants who
thronged the courtyard, and had been witnesses of this
touching scene, shouted with one voice, "Hurrah for the
Lady of Luss. Three cheers for Lord and Lady Glen-
arvan!"
CHAPTER V
THE DEPARTURE OF THE "DUNCAN"
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 London when his request was refused,
and he would have anticipated Lady Helena, only he could
not bear the thought of parting from her. But now that
she herself proposed to go, all hesitation was at an end.
The servants of the Castle had hailed the project with loud
acclamations -- for it was to save their brothers -- Scotch-
men, like themselves -- and Lord Glenarvan cordially joined
his cheers 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 <i>Duncan</i> immediately to Glasgow, and to make prepara-
tions for a voyage to the Southern Seas, and possibly round
the world, for Lady Helena was right in her opinion that
the yacht might safely attempt the circumnavigation of the
globe, if necessary.
The <i>Duncan</i> was a steam yacht of the finest description.
She was 210 tons burden -- much larger than any of the first
vessels that touched the shores of the New World, for the
largest of the four ships that sailed with Columbus was only
70 tons. She had two masts and all the sails and rigging
of an ordinary clipper, which would enable her to take ad-
vantage of every favorable wind, though her chief reliance
was on her mechanical power. The engine, which was con-
structed on a new system, was a high-pressure one, of 160-
horse power, and put in motion a double screw. This gave
the yacht such swiftness that during her trial trip in the
Firth of Clyde, she made seventeen miles an hour, a higher
speed than any vessel had yet attained. No alterations were
consequently needed in the <i>Duncan</i> 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 fresh supplies <i>en
route</i>. He had to do the same with the store-rooms, and
managed so well that he succeeded in laying in provisions
24
THE DEPARTURE OF THE "DUNCAN" 25
enough for two years. There was abundance of money at
his command, and enough remained to buy a cannon, on a
pivot carriage, which he mounted on the forecastle. There
was no knowing what might happen, and it is always well to
be able to send a good round bullet flying four miles off.
John Mangles understood his business. Though he was
only the captain of a pleasure yacht, he was one of the best
skippers in Glasgow. He was thirty years of age, and his
countenance expressed both courage and goodness, if the
features were somewhat coarse. He had been brought up
at the castle by the 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 <i>sang-froid</i>. When
Lord Glenarvan offered him the command of the <i>Duncan</i>,
he accepted it with right good will, for he loved the master
of Malcolm Castle, like a brother, and had hitherto vainly
sought 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, in-
cluding the captain and chief officer, were all from Dumbar-
tonshire, experienced sailors, and all belonging to the Glen-
arvan 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 trusty fellows, skilled in
their calling, devoted to himself, full of courage, 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 bound, they could not restrain their
enthusiasm, and the rocks of Dumbarton rang again with
their joyous outbursts of cheers.
But while John Mangles made the stowage and provision-
ing of the yacht his chief business, he did not forget to fit up
the rooms of Lord and Lady Glenarvan for a long voyage.
He had also to get cabins ready for the children of Captain
Grant, as Lady Helena could not refuse Mary's request to
accompany her.
As for young Robert, he would have smuggled himself in
somewhere in the hold of the <i>Duncan</i> rather than be left
behind. He would 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 pas-
26 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
senger, but must serve in some capacity, as cabin-boy, ap-
prentice or sailor, he did not care which, so he was put in
charge of John Mangles, to 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," said Lord Glenarvan,
gravely; he did not add, that this mode of punishment was
forbidden on board the <i>Duncan</i>, 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 excellent, indeed, a perfect temper; modest,
silent, peaceable, and amiable, agreeing with everybody on
every subject, never discussing, never disputing, never get-
ting 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 the
battle-field, which is solely due to muscular energy, but he
had what is far nobler -- moral courage, firmness of soul. If
he had any fault it was his being 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 in England, and
he gained 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 Malcolm Castle,
and as a major he went as a matter of course with the
<i>Duncan</i>.
Such, then, was the <i>personnel</i> of this yacht, so unexpect-
edly called to make one of the most wonderful voyages of
modern times. From the hour she reached the steamboat
quay at Glasgow, she completely monopolized the public at-
tention. A considerable crowd visited her every day, and
the <i>Duncan</i> was the one topic of interest and conversation,
to the great vexation of the different captains in the port,
THE DEPARTURE OF THE "DUNCAN" 27
among others of Captain Burton, in command of the <i>Scotia</i>,
a magnificent steamer lying close beside her, and bound for
Calcutta. Considering her size, the <i>Scotia</i> might justly look
upon the <i>Duncan</i> as a mere fly-boat, and yet this pleasure
yacht of Lord Glenarvan was quite the center of attraction,
and the excitement about her daily increased.
The <i>Duncan</i> was to sail out with the tide at three o'clock
on the morning of the 25th of August. But before starting,
a touching ceremony was witnessed by the good people of
Glasgow. At eight o'clock the night before, Lord Glen-
arvan and his friends, and the entire crew, from the stokers
to the captain, all who were to take part in this self-sacrific-
ing voyage, 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, be-
neath 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 bless-
ing of Heaven on their expedition, and to put themselves
under the protection of Providence. The Rev. Mr. Morton
conducted the service, and when he had ended and pro-
nounced the benediction, a young girl's voice broke the
solemn silence 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 dispersed
under the influence of deep emotion, and at ten o'clock the
passengers and crew returned on board the vessel.
CHAPTER VI
AN UNEXPECTED PASSENGER
THE ladies passed the whole of the first day of the voy-
age in their berths, for there was a heavy swell in the sea,
and toward evening the wind blew pretty fresh, and the
<i>Duncan</i> tossed and pitched considerably.
But the morning after, the wind changed, and the captain
ordered the men to put up the foresail, and brigantine and
foretopsail, which greatly lessened the rolling of the vessel.
Lady Helena and Mary Grant were able to come on deck at
28 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
daybreak, where they found Lord Glenarvan, Major Mc-
Nabbs and the captain.
"And how do you stand the sea, Miss Mary?" said Lord
Glenarvan.
"Pretty well, my Lord. I am not very much inconveni-
enced by it. Besides I shall get used to it."
"And our young Robert!"
"Oh, as for Robert," said the captain, "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 this very
moment! Do you see him?"
The captain pointed toward the foremast, and sure
enough there was Robert, hanging on the yards of the top-
gallant mast, a hundred feet above in the air. Mary in-
voluntarily 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," replied the young girl.
"My dear child," said Lord Glenarvan, "there is some-
thing 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, "you 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 <i>Duncan</i>, I sup-
pose, Miss Mary?"
"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 father'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 easily enough."
"Do you say so, miss?" exclaimed John Mangles.
"If you talk like that you and John will be great friends,
for he can't think any calling is equal to that of a seaman;
AN UNEXPECTED PASSENGER 29
he can't fancy any other, even for a woman. Isn't it true,
John?"
"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 <i>Duncan</i>," replied
Glenarvan.
"Well, really," said Lady Glenarvan, "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 Helena," said
Lord Glenarvan. "This yacht is a portion of our old Cale-
donia, a fragment of Dumbartonshire, making a voyage by
special favor, so that in a manner we are still in our own
country. The <i>Duncan</i> is Malcolm Castle, and the ocean is
Loch Lomond."
"Very well, dear Edward, do the honors of the Castle
then."
"At your service, madam; but let me tell Olbinett first."
The steward of the yacht was an excellent <i>maitre d'hotel</i>,
and might have been French for his airs of importance, but
for all that he discharged his functions with zeal and intelli-
gence.
"Olbinett," said his master, as he appeared in answer to
his summons, "we are going to have a turn before break-
fast. 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 in-
veterate smoker, Miss Mary, I can tell you. He is always
smoking, even while he sleeps."
The Major gave an assenting nod, and Lord Glenarvan
and his party went below.
McNabbs remained alone, talking to himself, as was his
30 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
habit, and was soon enveloped in still thicker clouds 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 with
a new comer. Certainly, if any thing could have surprised
him, this <i>rencontre</i> 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 big 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 con-
struction of the eye, which makes the sight imperfect in the
day and better at night. It was evident from his physiog-
nomy 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 his 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
<i>Duncan</i>.
Finding all his efforts baffled by the Major's indifference,
the mysterious passenger seized his telescope, drew it out
to its fullest extent, about four feet, and began gazing at
AN UNEXPECTED PASSENGER 31
the horizon, standing motionless with his legs wide apart.
His examination lasted some few minutes, and then he low-
ered the glass, set it up on deck, and leaned on it as if it had
been a walking-stick. Of course, his weight shut 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 smiled, at least,
at such a ludicrous sight; but McNabbs never 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, and he called
again, still louder, "Steward!"
Mr. Olbinett chanced to be passing that minute on his
way from the galley, and what was his astonishment at hear-
ing 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 himself. "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,
"Are 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 think of breakfast,
and that pretty quickly. It is thirty-six hours since I have
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 Paris to Glasgow. What is
the breakfast hour?"
"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.
32 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
Fetch me a glass of sherry and a biscuit while I am waiting,
for I am actually falling through sheer inanition."
Olbinett heard him without understanding what he meant
for the voluble stranger kept on talking incessantly, flying
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 goes 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, delighted 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 affable man-
ner.
"Allow me to shake hands with you, sir; and if I did not
do so yesterday evening, it was only because I did not wish
to be troublesome when you were starting. But to-day, cap-
tain, 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.
But without waiting for a reply, the rattling fellow con-
tinued:
"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 <i>Scotia?</i>"
"What do you mean by the <i>Scotia?</i>" put in John
Mangles at last.
"By the <i>Scotia?</i> Why, the ship we're on, of course -- a
good ship that has been commended to me, not only for its
physical qualities, but also for the moral qualities of its com-
mander, the brave Captain Burton. You will be some rela-
tion of the famous African traveler of that name. A dar-
ing man he was, sir. I offer you my congratulations."
"Sir," interrupted John. "I am not only no relation of
Burton the great traveler, but I am not even Captain
Burton."
V. IV Verne
AN UNEXPECTED PASSENGER 33
"Ah, is that so? It is Mr. Burdness, the chief officer,
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 man-
ner, when Lord Glenarvan and his party came up on the
poop. The stranger caught sight of them directly, and ex-
claimed:
"Ah! the passengers, the passengers! I hope you are
going to introduce me to them, Mr. Burdness!"
But he could not wait for any one's intervention, and go-
ing up to them with perfect ease and grace, said, bowing to
Miss Grant, "Madame;" then to Lady Helena, with an-
other bow, "Miss;" and to Lord Glenarvan, "Sir."
Here John Mangles interrupted him, and said, "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 be-
come acquainted with each other, and that the company of
these ladies will make our voyage in the <i>Scotia</i> appear as
short as agreeable."
Lady Helena and Miss Grant were too astonished to be
able to utter a single word. The presence of this intruder
on the poop of the <i>Duncan</i> was perfectly inexplicable.
Lord Glenarvan was more collected, and said, "Sir, to
whom have I the honor of speaking?"
"To Jacques Eliacin Francois Marie Paganel, Secretary
of the Geographical Society of Paris, Corresponding Mem-
ber of the Societies of Berlin, Bombay, Darmstadt, Leipsic,
London, St. Petersburg, Vienna, and New York; Honorary
Member of the Royal Geographical and Ethnographical In-
stitute of the East Indies; who, after having spent twenty
years of his life in geographical work in the study, wishes to
see active service, and is on his way to India to gain for the
science what information he can by following up the foot-
steps of great travelers."
CHAPTER VII
JACQUES PAGANEL IS UNDECEIVED
THE Secretary of the Geographical Society was evidently
an amiable personage, for all this was said in a most charm-
ing manner. Lord Glenarvan knew quite well who he was
now, for he had often heard Paganel spoken of, and was
aware of his merits. His geographical works, his papers on
modern discoveries, inserted in the reports of the Society,
and his world-wide correspondence, gave him a most dis-
tinguished place among the <i>literati</i> of France.
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 ques-
tion?"
"Twenty, my Lord, " replied Paganel; "it will always be
a pleasure to converse with you."
"Was it last evening that you came on board this ves-
sel?"
"Yes, my Lord, about 8 o'clock. I jumped into a cab at
the Caledonian Railway, and from the cab into the <i>Scotia</i>,
where I had booked my cabin before I left Paris. It was
a dark night, and I saw no one on board, so I found cabin
No. 6, and went to my berth immediately, for I had heard
that 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; and,
moreover, I had been traveling for thirty hours. So I
tucked myself in, and slept conscientiously, I assure you, for
thirty-six hours."
Paganel's listeners understood the whole mystery, now,
of his presence on the <i>Duncan</i>. The French traveler had
mistaken his vessel, 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 Calcutta, M. Paganel, that you have chosen
as your point of departure on your travels?"
"Yes, my Lord, to see India has been a cherished purpose
with me all my life. It will be the realization of my fondest
dreams, to find myself in the country of elephants and
Thugs."
34
JACQUES PAGANEL IS UNDECEIVED 35
"Then it would be by no means a matter 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."
"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. I am to pursue
the track of the Schlaginweit Brothers; and Colonels Waugh
and Webb, and Hodgson; and Huc and Gabet, the mis-
sionaries; and Moorecroft and M. Jules Remy, and so many
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-Tchou, which waters Thibet for a distance of
1500 kilometres, flowing along the northern base of the
Himalayas, and to find out at last whether this river does
not join itself to the Brahmapoutre in the northeast of As-
sam. The gold medal, my Lord, is promised to the traveler
who will succeed in ascertaining a fact which is one of the
greatest <i>desiderata</i> to the geography of India."
Paganel was magnificent. He spoke with superb anima-
tion, soaring away on the wings of imagination. It would
have been as impossible to stop him as to stop the Rhine
at the Falls of Schaffhausen.
"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 science, but I should
not like to allow you to be laboring under a mistake any
longer, and I must tell you, therefore, that for the present
at least, you must give up the pleasure of a visit to India."
"Give it up. And why?"
"Because you are turning your back on the Indian penin-
sula."
"What! Captain Burton."
"I am not Captain Burton," said John Mangles.
"But the <i>Scotia</i>."
"This vessel is not the <i>Scotia</i>."
It would be impossible to depict the astonishment of
Paganel. He stared first at one and then at another in the
utmost bewilderment.
36 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
Lord Glenarvan was perfectly grave, and Lady Helena
and Mary showed their sympathy for his vexation by their
looks. As for John Mangles, he could not suppress a
smile; but the Major appeared 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:
<i>Duncan.
Glasgow</i>.
"The <i>Duncan!</i> the <i>Duncan!</i>" he exclaimed, with a cry
of despair, and forthwith rushed down the stairs, and away
to his cabin.
As soon as the unfortunate <i>savant</i> had disappeared, every
one, except the Major, broke out into such peals of laughter
that the sound reached the ears of the sailors in the fore-
castle. To mistake a railway or to take the train to Edin-
burgh when you want to go to Dumbarton might happen;
but to mistake a ship and be sailing for Chili when you
meant to go to India -- that is a blunder indeed!
"However," said Lord Glenarvan, "I am not much as-
tonished at it in Paganel. He is quite famous for such
misadventures. One day he published a celebrated map of
America, and put Japan in it! But for all that, he is dis-
tinguished for his learning, and he is one of the best geog-
raphers in France."
"But what shall we do with the poor gentleman?" said
Lady Helena; "we can't take him with us to Patagonia."
"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 here, too, if he likes;
he can disembark at the first place where we touch."
While they were talking, Paganel came up again on the
poop, looking very woebegone and crestfallen. He had
been making inquiry about his luggage, to assure himself
that it was all on board, and kept repeating incessantly the
unlucky words, "The <i>Duncan!</i> the <i>Duncan!</i>"
He could find no others in his vocabulary. He paced
restlessly up and down; sometimes stopping to examine the
JACQUES PAGANEL IS UNDECEIVED 37
sails, or gaze inquiringly over the wide ocean, at the far
horizon. At length he accosted Lord Glenarvan once more,
and said --
"And this <i>Duncan</i> -- where is she going?"
"To America, Monsieur Paganel," was the reply.
"And to what particular part?"
"To Concepcion."
"To Chili! to Chili!" cried the unfortunate geographer.
"And my mission to India. But what will M. de Quatre-
fages, the President of the Central Commission, say? And
M. d' Avezac? And M. Cortanbert? And M. Vivien de
Saint Martin? How shall I show my face at the <i>seances</i> of
the Society?"
"Come, Monsieur Paganel, don't despair. It can all be
managed; 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 Madeira, and you will get
a ship there to take you back to Europe."
"Thanks, my Lord. I suppose I must resign myself to
it; but people will say it is a most extraordinary adventure,
and it is only to me such things happen. And then, too,
there is a cabin taken for me on board the <i>Scotia</i>."
"Oh, as to the <i>Scotia</i>, you'll have to give that up mean-
time."
"But the <i>Duncan</i> is a pleasure yacht, is it not?" began
Paganel again, 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 cour-
tesy, but allow me to make one observation: India is a fine
country, and can offer many a surprising marvel to travel-
ers. These ladies, I suppose, have never seen it. Well
now, the man at the helm has only to give a turn at the
wheel, and the <i>Duncan</i> will sail as easily to Calcutta as to
Concepcion; 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:
38 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"Monsieur Paganel, if we were only on a pleasure trip, I
should reply, 'Let us all go to India together,' and I am sure
Lord Glenarvan would not object; but the <i>Duncan</i> is going
to bring back shipwrecked mariners who were cast away on
the shores of Patagonia, and we could not alter such a des-
tination."
The Frenchman was soon put in possession of all the cir-
cumstances of the case. He was no unmoved auditor, and
when 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 touch at, wherever it
may be."
"That will be Madeira," said John Mangles.
"Madeira be it then. I shall only be 180 leagues from
Lisbon, and I shall wait there for some means of transport."
"Very well, Monsieur Paganel, it shall be as you wish;
and, for my own part, I am very glad to be able to offer
you, meantime, a few days' hospitality. I only hope you
will not find our company too dull."
"Oh, my Lord," exclaimed Paganel, "I am but too
happy to have made a mistake which has turned out so
agreeably. Still, it is a very ridiculous plight for a man to
be in, to find himself sailing to America when he set out to
go to the East Indies!"
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 en-
chanted the ladies with his good humor. Before the end of
the day he was friends with 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 with the most lively in-
terest. He gave them great hope; indeed, the young girl
could not help smiling at his sanguine prediction of success,
THE GEOGRAPHER'S RESOLUTION 39
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 Helena, when he heard that she was a daugh-
ter of 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 <i>ren-
contre</i> this was, and what a pleasure to travel with the
daughter of Tuffnell.
He wound up by asking permission to kiss her, which
Lady Helena granted, though it was, perhaps, a little im-
proper.
CHAPTER VIII
THE GEOGRAPHER'S RESOLUTION
MEANTIME the yacht, favored by the currents from the
north of Africa, was making rapid progress toward the
equator. On the 30th of August they sighted the Madeira
group of islands, and Glenarvan, true to his promise, offered
to put in there, and land his new guest.
But Paganel said:
"My dear Lord, I won't stand on ceremony with you.
Tell me, did you intend to stop at Madeira before I came
on board?"
"No," replied Glenarvan.
"Well, then, allow me to profit by my unlucky mistake.
Madeira is 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 far as wine growing is concerned. Just
imagine no vines to speak of being in Madeira! In 1813,
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 with our
route."
"I know it will not, my dear Lord. In the Canary
Islands, you see, there are three groups to study, besides
40 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
the Peak of Teneriffe, which I always wished to visit. This
is an opportunity, and I should like to avail myself of it, and
make the ascent of the famous mountain while I am wait-
ing for a ship to take me back to Europe."
"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 Madeira, a trifling dis-
tance for such a quick sailer as the <i>Duncan</i>.
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 to-
ward 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
horizon, 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 Peak of Teneriffe is quite
visible yonder 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," said John Mangles.
"Yes, yes, distinctly," replied Paganel, adding in a dis-
dainful tone, "and that's what they call the Peak of Ten-
eriffe!"
"That's the Peak."
"It doesn't look much of a height."
"It is 11,000 feet, though, above the level of the sea."
"That is not equal to Mont Blanc."
"Likely enough, but when you come to ascend it, prob-
ably you'll think it high enough."
"Oh, ascend it! ascend it, my dear captain! What would
be the good after Humboldt and Bonplan? That Hum-
boldt was a great genius. He made the ascent of this moun-
THE GEOGRAPHER'S RESOLUTION 41
tain, and has given a description of it which leaves nothing
unsaid. He tells us that it comprises five different zones --
the zone of the vines, the zone of the laurels, the zone of
the pines, the zone of the Alpine heaths, and, lastly, the zone
of sterility. He set his foot on the very summit, and found
that there was not even room enough to sit down. The
view from the summit was very extensive, stretching over
an area equal to Spain. Then he went right down into the
volcano, 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 left to glean. That is
vexing, too, for you would find it dull work waiting for a
vessel in the Peak of Teneriffe."
"But, I say, Mangles, my dear fellow, are there no ports
in the Cape Verde Islands that we might touch at?"
"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
Senegal, and that is not far away from those islands. 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. Seeing is a science. There
are people who do not know how to use their eyes, and who
travel about with as much intelligence as a shell-fish. But
that's not in my line, I assure you."
"Please yourself, Monsieur Paganel. I have no doubt
geographical science will be a gainer by your sojourn in
the Cape Verde Islands. We must go in there anyhow for
coal, so your disembarkation will not occasion the least
delay."
The captain gave immediate orders for the yacht to con-
tinue her route, steering to the west of the Canary group,
and leaving Teneriffe on her larboard. She made rapid
progress, and passed 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, "<i>le
tempo das aguas</i>," as the Spanish call it, a trying season to
travelers, but useful to the inhabitants of the African Is-
lands, who lack trees and consequently water. The rough
weather prevented the passengers from going on deck, but
42 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
did not make the conversation any less animated in the
saloon.
On the 3d of September Paganel began to collect his lug-
gage to go on shore. The <i>Duncan</i> was already steaming
among the Islands. She passed Sal, a complete tomb of
sand lying 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 the port of Villa
Praya and anchored in eight fathoms of water before 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 town was scarcely
visible through it. It rose on a plain in the form of a ter-
race, buttressed on volcanic rocks three hundred feet high.
The appearance of the island through the thick veil of rain
was mournful in the extreme.
Lady Helena could not go on shore as she had purposed;
indeed, even coaling was a difficult business, and the pas-
sengers had to content themselves below the poop as best
they might. Naturally enough, the main topic of conversa-
tion was the weather. Everybody had something to say
about it except the Major, who surveyed the universal
deluge with the utmost indifference. Paganel walked up
and down shaking his head.
"It is clear enough, Paganel," said Lord Glenarvan,
"that the elements are against you."
"I'll be even with them for all that," replied the French-
man.
"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 find pretty good
quarters. They wouldn't be over clean, and you might find
the monkeys and pigs not always the most agreeable com-
panions. But travelers are not too particular, and, more-
over, in seven or eight months you would get a ship, I dare
say, to take you back to Europe."
"Seven or eight months!" exclaimed Paganel.
"At least. The Cape Verde Islands are not much fre-
THE GEOGRAPHER'S RESOLUTION 43
quented by ships during the rainy season. But you can
employ your time usefully. This archipelago is still but
little known."
"You can go up the large rivers," suggested Lady He-
lena.
"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.
"Yes, that is always my luck. At the Canary Islands,
I saw myself anticipated by Humboldt, and here by M.
Charles Sainte-Claire Deville, a geologist."
"Impossible!"
"It is too true," replied Paganel, in a doleful voice.
"Monsieur Deville was on board the government corvette,
<i>La Décidée, when she touched at the Cape Verde Islands,
and he explored the most interesting of the group, and went
to the top of the volcano in Isle Fogo. What is left for me
to do after him?"
"It is really a great pity," said Helena. "What will be-
come of you, Monsieur Paganel?"
Paganel remained silent.
"You would certainly have done much better to have
landed at Madeira, 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 Concepcion."
44 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"Plague it! That is a long way out of the road to
India."
"Not it! From the moment you pass Cape Horn, you
are getting nearer to it."
"I doubt it much."
"Beside," resumed Lord Glenarvan, with perfect grav-
ity, "when people are going to the Indies it doesn't matter
much whether it is to the East or West."
"What! it does not matter much?"
"Without taking into account the fact that the inhabi-
tants of the Pampas in Patagonia are as much Indians as
the natives of the Punjaub."
"Well done, my Lord. That's a reason that would never
have entered my head!"
"And then, my dear Paganel, you can gain the gold
medal anyway. There is as much to be done, and sought,
and investigated, and discovered in the Cordilleras as in
the mountains of Thibet."
"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 mis-
takes. Oh, I make no question that the Geographical So-
ciety would have sent me to Patagonia as soon as to India,
if I had sent in a request to that effect. 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!"
"Think, too, Monsieur Paganel, that by taking part in
our enterprise, you will be linking France with Scotland."
"Undoubtedly."
"A geographer would be of much use to our expedition,
THROUGH THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN 45
and what can be nobler than to bring science to the service
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 <i>Duncan</i>. Don't
leave her."
"Shall I say yes, my good friends? Come, now, tell me,
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."
CHAPTER IX
THROUGH THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN
THE joy on board was universal when Paganel's resolu-
tion 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 <i>petit bonhomme</i>. I'll teach him
geography."
Robert bade fair to be an accomplished gentleman some
day, for John Mangles was to make a sailor of him, and the
Major was to teach him <i>sang-froid</i>, and Glenarvan and
Lady Helena were to instil into him courage and goodness
and generosity, while Mary was to inspire him with grati-
tude toward such instructors.
The <i>Duncan</i> soon finished taking in coal, and turned her
back on the dismal region. She fell in before long with
the current from the coast of Brazil, and on the 7th of Sep-
tember entered the Southern hemisphere.
So far, then, the voyage had been made without difficulty.
Everybody was full of hope, for in this search for Captain
Grant, each day seemed to increase the probability of find-
ing him. The captain was among the most confident on
board, but his confidence mainly arose from the longing de-
sire he had to see Miss Mary happy. He was smitten with
quite a peculiar interest for this young girl, and managed
46 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
to conceal his sentiments so well that everyone on board
saw it except himself and Mary Grant.
As for the learned geographer, he was probably the hap-
piest 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 came
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-
vantes, as no one on board understood it, and it would be
helpful 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 Concep-
cion. He studied it furiously, and kept constantly mutter-
ing heterogeneous syllables.
He spent his leisure hours in teaching young Robert, and
instructed him in the history of the country they were 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 steamers on their way to the Pa-
cific Ocean. The exact length of the straits is 372 miles.
Ships of the largest tonnage find, throughout, sufficient
depth of water, even close to the shore, and there is a good
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 lacking in Strait Lemaire and Cape Horn, with its ter-
rible rocks, incessantly visited by hurricane and tempest.
For the first three or four hours -- that is to say, for about
sixty to eighty miles, as far as Cape Gregory -- the coast on
either side was low and sandy. Jacques Paganel would not
lose a single point of view, nor a single detail of the straits.
It would scarcely take thirty-six hours to go through them,
and the moving panorama on both sides, seen in all the clear-
ness and glory of the light of a southern sun, was well worth
the trouble of looking at and admiring. On the Terra del
THROUGH THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN 47
Fuego side, a few wretched-looking creatures were wander-
ing 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 Patagonia without Pata-
gonians was not Patagonia at all.
But Glenarvan replied:
"Patience, my worthy geographer. We shall see the
Patagonians yet."
"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 Patagonia, which means
'great feet' in Spanish, would not have been given to imag-
inary beings."
"Oh, the name is nothing," said Paganel, who was argu-
ing simply for the sake of arguing. "And besides, to speak
the truth, we are not sure if that is their name."
"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 called the natives Patagonians, the Fuegians
called them Tiremenen, the Chilians Caucalhues, the col-
onists of Carmen Tehuelches, the Araucans Huiliches; Bou-
gainville gives them the name of Chauha, and Falkner that
of Tehuelhets. The name they give themselves is Inaken.
Now, tell me then, how would you recognize them? In-
deed, 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 about
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 Lady Helena.
"No one can affirm that they are."
48 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"About the average, then?" said McNabbs.
"I don't know that either."
"That's going a little too far," said Glenarvan. "Trav-
elers 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 scarcely reached to their waist."
"Well, then, that proves."
"Yes, but Drake declares that the English are taller than
the tallest Patagonian?"
"Oh, the English -- that may be," replied the Major, dis-
dainfully, "but we are talking of the Scotch."
"Cavendish assures us that they are tall and robust," con-
tinued Paganel. "Hawkins makes out they are giants. Le-
maire and Shouten declare that they are eleven feet high."
"These are all credible witnesses," said Glenarvan.
"Yes, quite as much as Wood, Narborough, and Falk-
ner, who say they are of medium stature. Again, Byron,
Giraudais, Bougainville, Wallis, and Carteret, declared that
the Patagonians are six feet six inches tall."
"But what is the truth, then, among all these contradic-
tions?" asked Lady Helena.
"Just this, madame; the Patagonians have 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, that would reconcile
all statements," returned Paganel. "But here is one con-
solation, at all events: the Straits of Magellan are very mag-
nificent, even without Patagonians."
Just at this moment the <i>Duncan</i> was rounding the penin-
sula of Brunswick between splendid panoramas.
Seventy miles after doubling Cape Gregory, she left on
her starboard the penitentiary of Punta Arena. The
church steeple and the Chilian flag gleamed for an instant
among the trees, and then the strait wound on between huge
granitic masses which had an imposing effect. Cloud-
capped mountains appeared, their heads white with eternal
snows, and their feet hid in immense forests. Toward the
southwest, Mount Tarn rose 6,500 feet high. Night came
V. IV Verne
THROUGH THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN 49
on after a long lingering twilight, the light insensibly melt-
ing 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
invested with grandeur, the sad remains of a deserted set-
tlement, whose name will be an eternal protest against these
fertile shores and forests full of game. The <i>Duncan</i> was
passing Fort Famine.
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 St. Philip, but the extreme severity
of winter decimated the inhabitants, and those who had
struggled through the cold died subsequently of starvation.
Cavendish the Corsair discovered the last survivor dying of
hunger in the ruins.
After sailing along these deserted shores, the <i>Duncan</i>
went through a series of narrow passes, between forests of
beech and ash and birch, and at length doubled Cape Fro-
ward, still bristling with the ice of the last winter. On the
other side of the strait, in Terra del Fuego, stood Mount
Sarmiento, towering to a height of 6,000 feet, an enormous
accumulation of rocks, separated by bands of cloud, form-
ing a sort of aërial archipelago in the sky.
It is at Cape Froward that the American continent actu-
ally terminates, for Cape Horn is nothing but a rock sunk
in the sea in latitude 52 degrees. At Cape Momax the
straits widened, and she was able to get round Narborough
Isles and advance in a more southerly direction, till at
length the rock of Cape Pilares, the extreme point of Desola-
tion Island, came in sight, thirty-six hours after entering
the straits. Before her stem lay a broad, open, sparkling
ocean, which Jacques Paganel greeted with enthusiastic ges-
tures, feeling kindred emotions with those which stirred the
bosom of Ferdinand de Magellan himself, when the sails
of his ship, the <i>Trinidad</i>, first bent before the breeze from
the great Pacific.
CHAPTER X
THE COURSE DECIDED
A WEEK after they had doubled the Cape Pilares, the
<i>Duncan</i> steamed into the bay of Talcahuano, a magnificent
estuary, 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 sheltered by the mountain range of the Andes. In obedi-
ence to Lord Glenarvan's order, John Mangles had sailed as
near the archipelago of Chiloe as possible, and examined all
the creeks and windings of the coast, hoping to discover
some traces of the shipwreck. A broken spar, or any frag-
ment of the vessel, would have put them in the right track;
but nothing whatever 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 availed himself of the opportunity of making use of
the language he had been studying so conscientiously, but
to his 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 means of a
few English words, aided by expressive gestures, that the
British Consul lived at Concepcion, an hour's ride distant.
Glenarvan found no difficulty in procuring two fleet horses,
and he and Paganel were soon within the walls 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! Often pil-
laged 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 Talca-
huano. 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 every balcony, and languish-
ing songs floated on the breeze. Concepcion, the ancient
city of brave men, had become a village of women and chil-
50
THE COURSE DECIDED 51
dren. Lord Glenarvan felt no great desire to inquire 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 <i>Britannia</i>, had gone ashore either on the Chilian or
Araucanian coast, he gave a decided negative. No report
of such an event had been 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 investigation
of the whole seaboard. But it was all in vain. The most
minute inquiries were fruitless, and Lord Glenarvan re-
turned to the yacht to report his ill success. Mary Grant
and her brother could not restrain their grief. Lady He-
lena 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 any-
thing illogical about the meaning?"
Paganel was silent, absorbed in reflection.
"Have we mistaken the place where the catastrophe oc-
curred?" continued Glenarvan. "Does not the name Pata-
gonia seem apparent even to the least clear-sighted indi-
vidual?"
Paganel was still silent.
"Besides," said Glenarvan, "does not the word <i>Indien</i>
prove we are right?"
"Perfectly so," replied McNabbs.
"And is it not evident, then, that at the moment of writ-
ing the words, the shipwrecked men were expecting to be
made prisoners by the Indians?"
"I take exception to that, my Lord," said Paganel;
"and even if your other conclusions are right, this, at least,
seemed to me irrational."
"What do you mean?" asked Lady Helena, while all
eyes were fixed on the geographer.
52 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"I mean this," replied Paganel, "that Captain Grant is
<i>now a prisoner among the Indians</i>, and I further add that
the document states it unmistakably."
"Explain yourself, sir," said Mary Grant.
"Nothing is plainer, dear Mary. Instead of reading the
document <i>seront prisonniers</i>, read <i>sont prisonniers</i>, 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 been 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 place of the shipwreck."
"There is no proof of that," replied Paganel, "and I see
nothing to preclude the supposition that the poor fellows
were dragged into the interior by the Indians, and sought
to make known the place of their captivity by means of this
bottle."
"Except this fact, my dear Paganel, that there was no
sea, and therefore they could not have flung the bottle
into it."
"Unless they flung it into rivers which ran into the sea,"
returned Paganel.
This reply was so unexpected, and yet so admissible, that
it made them all completely silent for a minute, though their
beaming eyes betrayed the rekindling of hope 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?" said Glenarvan.
"My advice is to follow the 37th parallel from the point
where it touches the American continent to where it dips
into the Atlantic, without deviating from it half a degree,
and possibly in some part of its course we shall fall in with
the shipwrecked party."
"There is a poor chance of that," said the Major.
"Poor as it is," returned Paganel, "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 con-
THE COURSE DECIDED 53
vince yourselves of this by looking at this map of the coun-
try."
He unrolled a map of Chili and the Argentine 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 nar-
row strip of Chili, and over the Cordilleras of the Andes,
and get into the heart of the Pampas. Shall we find any
lack of rivers and streams and currents? No, for here are
the Rio Negro and Rio Colorado, and their tributaries inter-
sected by the 37th parallel, and any of them might have
carried the bottle on its waters. Then, perhaps, in the
midst of a tribe 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 37th
parallel till we find those we seek, if even we go right round
the world?"
His generous enthusiasm so touched his auditors that, in-
voluntarily, they rose to their feet and grasped his hands,
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 hands of a numerous tribe, or his cap-
tors 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
<i>Duncan</i> on the eastern coast and get to Buenos Ayres, where
we can soon organize a detachment of men, with Major
McNabbs at their head, strong enough to tackle all the In-
dians in the Argentine provinces."
"That's capital, my Lord," said John Mangles, "and I
may add, that there is no danger whatever crossing the con-
tinent."
"Monsieur Paganel," asked Lady Helena, "you have no
54 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
fear then that if the poor fellows have fallen into the hands
of the Indians their lives at least have been spared."
"What a question? Why, madam, the Indians are not
anthropophagi! Far from it. One of my own country-
men, M. Guinnard, 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 the pass
of Antuco, leaving the volcano on the south, and gliding
gently down the mountain sides, past the Neuquem and the
Rio 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
fingers' ends, and could trust implicitly to his never-failing
memory.
"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 <i>Duncan</i>, however little
she may be delayed by the westerly winds."
"Then the <i>Duncan</i> is to cruise between Corrientes and
Cape Saint Antonie," said John Mangles.
"Just so."
"And how is the expedition to be organized?" asked
Glenarvan.
THE COURSE DECIDED 55
"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 natural 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 the
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 Glenarvan, "we leave passen-
gers 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?" said Lady Helena,
while a shade of sadness beclouded her eyes.
"My dear Helena, the journey will so soon be accom-
plished 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 all the
good he can. <i>Transire beneficiendo</i> -- that is our motto."
This ended the discussion, if a conversation can be so
called, where all who take part in it are of the same opin-
ion. 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 14th of October.
The sailors were all so eager to join the expedition that
Glenarvan found the only way to prevent jealousy among
them was to draw lots who should go. This was accord-
ingly done, and fortune favored the chief officer, Tom
Austin, Wilson, a strong, jovial young fellow, and Mulrady,
so good a boxer that he might have entered the lists with
Tom Sayers himself.
Glenarvan displayed the greatest activity about the prep-
arations, for he was anxious to be ready by the appointed
day. John Mangles was equally busy in coaling the vessel,
56 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
that she might weigh anchor at the same time. There was
quite a rivalry between Glenarvan and the young captain
about 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 re-
mained behind. The <i>Duncan</i> was just about to get under
way, and already the vibration of the screw began to agi-
tate the limpid waters of Talcahuano, Glenarvan, Paganel,
McNabbs, Robert Grant, Tom Austin, Wilson, and Mul-
rady, stood armed with carbines and Colt's revolvers. Guides
and mules awaited them at the landing stairs of the harbor.
"It is time," said Lord Glenarvan 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 his 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 till 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 explorers left the
vessel. They were soon on the quay, and as the yacht
turned round to pursue her course, she came so near where
they stood, that Lady Helena could exchange farewells
once more.
"God help you!" she called out.
"Heaven will help us, madam," shouted Paganel, in re-
ply, "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, while the
<i>Duncan</i> steamed out at full speed toward the broad ocean.
CHAPTER XI
TRAVELING IN CHILI
THE native troops organized by Lord Glenarvan 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 liveli-
hood by letting out mules to travelers, and leading them
over the difficult passes of the Cordilleras, after which he
gave them in charge of a <i>baqueano</i>, or Argentine guide, to
whom the route through the Pampas was perfectly familiar.
This Englishman had not so far forgotten his mother tongue
among mules and Indians that he could not converse 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 <i>catapez</i>, as he was called in Chilian, had two natives
called <i>peons</i>, and a boy about twelve years of age under him.
The <i>peons</i> took care of the baggage mules, and the boy led
the <i>madrina</i>, a young mare adorned with rattle and bells,
which walked in front, followed by ten mules. The travel-
ers rode seven of these, and the <i>catapez</i> another. The re-
maining two carried provisions and a few bales of goods,
intended to secure the goodwill of the Caciques of the plain.
The <i>peons</i> walked, according to their usual habit.
Every arrangement had been made to insure safety and
speed, for crossing the Andes is something more than an
ordinary journey. It could not be accomplished without
the help of the hardy mules of the far-famed Argentine
breed. Those reared 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 leagues in eight hours.
There are no inns along this road from one ocean to an-
other. The only viands on which travelers can regale them-
selves are dried meat, rice seasoned with pimento, and such
game as may be shot <i>en route</i>. 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 this in a bullock's horn,
called <i>chiffle</i>. They have to be careful, however, not to
indulge too freely in alcoholic drinks, as the climate itself
57
58 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
has a peculiarly exhilarating effect on the nervous system.
As for bedding, it is all contained in the saddle used by the
natives, called <i>recado</i>. This saddle is made of sheepskins,
tanned on one side and woolly on the other, fastened by
gorgeous embroidered straps. Wrapped in these warm
coverings a traveler may sleep soundly, and brave exposure
to the damp nights.
Glenarvan, an experienced traveler, who knew 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
national <i>poncho</i>, an immense plaid with a hole in center, and
their legs 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 head-
stall of the bridle was decorated with metal ornaments, and
the <i>alforjas</i>, double sacks of gay colored linen, containing
the day's provisions. Paganel, <i>distrait</i> as usual, was flung
several times before he succeeded 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 mounting was
successful, and proved that he had the making in him of 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 shore of the bay
of Talcahuano, in order to gain the extremity of the par-
allel, thirty miles south. No one spoke much the first
day, for the smoke of the <i>Duncan</i> was still visible on the
horizon, and the pain of parting too keenly felt. Paganel
talked to himself in Spanish, asking and answering ques-
tions.
The <i>catapez</i>, moreover, was a taciturn man naturally, and
had not been rendered loquacious by his calling. He hardly
spoke to his <i>peons</i>. They understood their duties perfectly.
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 ob-
TRAVELING IN CHILI 59
stinacy. If a strap got loose, or a rein fell, a <i>peon</i> came
forward instantly, and throwing off his poncho, flung it
over his beast's head till the accident was repaired and the
march 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 al-
ready scoured that part of the coast, and to repeat the ex-
ploration would have been useless. It was, therefore,
decided that Arauco should 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 jour-
ney had commenced under such favorable 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, and
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 <i>guassos</i>, the degenerate off-
spring of Indians and Spaniards, dashed across the plain
like 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 was 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 con-
stantly compelled him to get ahead of the <i>madrina</i>, to the
60 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
great despair of his mule. Nothing but a sharp recall from
Glenarvan kept the boy in proper order.
The country now became more diversified, and 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 found
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 geographical
law."
He christened them forthwith, without the least hesita-
tion, 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 -- com-
posed of seventy-eight parts of copper and twenty-two 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 ac-
cent, that wretched accent!"
And for want of better work, Paganel whiled away the
time along the road by practising the difficulties in pro-
nunciation, repeating all the break-jaw words he could,
though still making geographical observations. Any ques-
tion about the country that Glenarvan might ask the <i>catapez</i>
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 the name
of it.
"It is the route from Yumbel to Los Angeles," said
Paganel.
Glenarvan looked at the <i>catapez</i>, who replied:
"Quite right."
And then, turning toward the geographer, he added:
"You have traveled in these parts before, sir?"
"Oh, yes," said Paganel, quite gravely.
ELEVEN THOUSAND FEET ALOFT 61
"On a mule?"
"No, in an easy chair."
The <i>catapez</i> could not make him out, but shrugged his
shoulders and resumed his post at the head of the party.
At five in the evening they stopped in a gorge of no great
depth, some miles above the little town of Loja, and en-
camped for the night at the foot of the Sierras, the first
steppes of the great Cordilleras.
CHAPTER XII
ELEVEN THOUSAND FEET ALOFT
NOTHING of importance had occurred hitherto in the
passage through Chili; but all the obstacles and difficulties
incident to a mountain journey were about to crowd on the
travelers now.
One important question had first to be settled. Which
pass would take them over the Andes, and yet not be out of
their fixed route?
On questioning the <i>catapez</i> 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."
"Precisely."
"Well, my good fellow, both these passes have only one
fault; they take us too far out of our route, either north or
south."
"Have you no other to propose?" asked the Major.
"Certainly," replied Paganel. "There is the pass of
Antuco, on the slope of the volcano, in latitude, 37° 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, <i>catapez?</i>" said Glenarvan.
"Yes, your Lordship, I have been through it, but I did
not mention it, as no one goes that way but the Indian shep-
herds 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."
62 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 be-
gan 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 <i>madrina</i> 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 parallel lines, and the <i>catapez</i> could speak to his <i>peons</i>
across a crevasse not two fathoms wide, though two hun-
dred deep, which made between them an inseparable gulf.
Glenarvan followed his guide step by step. He saw that
his perplexity was increasing as the way became more diffi-
cult, but did not dare to interrogate him, rightly enough,
perhaps, 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 <i>catapez</i> 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 fur-
ther passage. The <i>catapez</i>, after vain attempts at finding
an opening, dismounted, crossed his arms, and waited.
Glenarvan went up to him and asked if he had lost his way.
"No, your Lordship," was the reply.
"But you are not in the pass of Antuco."
"We are."
"You are sure you are not mistaken?"
"I am not mistaken. See! there are the remains of a fire
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."
ELEVEN THOUSAND FEET ALOFT 63
"And that would delay us?"
"Three days at least."
Glenarvan listened silently. He saw the <i>catapez</i> was
right. His mules could not go farther. When he talked
of returning, however, Glenarvan appealed to his com-
panions 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
after all? We have only to cross the top of the mountain
chain, and once over, nothing can be easier of descent than
the slopes we shall find there. When we get below, we
shall find <i>baqueanos</i>, 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 <i>catapez</i>.
"I am the muleteer," was the reply.
"As you please," said Glenarvan.
"We can do without him," said Paganel. "On the other
side 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 with the <i>catapez</i>,
and bade farewell to him and his <i>peons</i> and mules. The
arms and instruments, and a small stock 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
would have attempted. It was toilsome work, but after two hours'
exertion, and a great deal of roundabout climbing, the
little party found themselves once more in the pass of
Antuco.
They were not far now from the highest peak of the Cor-
dilleras, but there was not the slightest trace of any beaten
path. The entire region had been overturned by recent
shocks of earthquake, and all they could do was to keep on
climbing higher and higher. Paganel was rather discon-
certed at finding no way out to the other side of the chain,
and laid his account with having to undergo great fatigue
64 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 and 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 <i>temporales</i>, a sort of hurricane
peculiar to those regions, which yearly fills the abysses of
the Cordilleras with dead bodies.
They went on toiling steadily upward all night, 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 were taxed heavily now. These two brave Scots
multiplied themselves, 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 hurried
furiously along. The Major, on the contrary, only went
as quick 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 blocks of glittering ice, of a bluish tint on
some 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 disturb the currents of
air, and might cause the fall of the masses of snow sus-
pended in the air seven or eight hundred feet above their
heads.
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 snatch a hurried meal to
V. IV Verne
ELEVEN THOUSAND FEET ALOFT 65
recruit their strength. With superhuman courage, the
ascent was then resumed amid increasing dangers and diffi-
culties. They were forced to bestride sharp peaks and leap
over chasms so deep that they did not dare to look down
them. In many places wooden crosses marked the scene of
some great catastrophes.
About two o'clock they came to an immense barren plain,
without a sign of vegetation. The air was dry and the sky
unclouded blue. At this elevation rain is unknown, and
vapors only condense into snow or hail. Here and there
peaks of porphyry or basalt pierced through the white wind-
ing-sheet like the bones of a skeleton; and at intervals frag-
ments of quartz or gneiss, loosened by the action of the air,
fell down with a faint, dull sound, which in a denser atmos-
phere 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 could not go much farther.
At three o'clock Glenarvan stopped and said:
"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 lad; "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?" said Glenarvan.
"Yes," was the unanimous reply: and Mulrady added,
"I'll carry the boy."
The march eastward was forthwith resumed. 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 <i>puna</i>. Drops of blood
stood on the gums and lips, and respiration became hurried
66 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
and 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 but their moral
energy. Falls became frequent, and those who fell could
not rise again, but dragged themselves along on their knees.
But just as exhaustion was about to make short 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 Major stopped and said,
in a calm voice, "A hut!"
CHAPTER XIII
A SUDDEN DESCENT
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 Mulrady 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 pos-
session of it.
They found it was a <i>casucha</i>, constructed by the Indians,
made of <i>adobes</i>, a species of bricks baked in the sun. Its
form was that of a cube, 12 feet on each side, and it stood
on a block of basalt. A stone stair led up to the door, the
only opening; and narrow as this door was, the hurricane,
and snow, and hail found their way in when the <i>temporales</i>
were unchained in the mountains.
Ten people could easily find room in it, and 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 protec-
tion against the intense cold, which, according to the ther-
mometer, was ten 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," said Glenarvan,
A SUDDEN DESCENT 67
"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 cap-
ital 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 rather see a good faggot just now than a
slice 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 <i>casucha</i>," said the Ma-
jor, "the probability is that we shall find something to
burn in it."
"Our friend McNabbs is right," said Glenarvan. "Get
everything in readiness for supper, and I'll go out and
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," replied Glen-
arvan.
On reaching the little mound of porphyry, Glenarvan and
his two companions left the <i>casucha</i>. In spite of the per-
fect calmness of the atmosphere, the cold was stinging.
Paganel consulted his barometer, and found that the de-
pression of the mercury corresponded to an elevation of
11,000 feet, only 910 meters lower than Mont Blanc.
But if these mountains had presented the difficulties of the
giant 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 night was fast drawing her mantle over the
eastern slopes of the Andes. The western side was il-
lumined by the rays of the setting sun, and peaks and gla-
ciers flashed back his golden beams with dazzling radiance.
68 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
On the south the view was magnificent. Across the wild
valley of the Torbido, about two miles distant, rose the
volcano of Antuco. The mountain roared like some enor-
mous monster, and vomited red smoke, mingled with tor-
rents of sooty flame. The surrounding peaks appeared on
fire. Showers of red-hot stones, clouds of reddish vapor
and rockets of lava, all combined, presented the appearance
of glowing sparkling streams. The splendor of the specta-
cle increased every instant as night deepened, and the whole
sky became lighted up with a dazzling reflection of the
blazing crater, 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
reminded them of the business on hand. 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 well as of a plant called <i>llaretta</i>,
the root of which burns tolerably well. This precious com-
bustible was carried back to the <i>casucha</i> and heaped up on
the hearth. It was a difficult matter to kindle it, though,
and still more to keep 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," he added, "water
will boil at less than 100° heat. It will come to the point
of ebullition before 99°."
McNabbs was right, as the thermometer proved, for it
was plunged into the kettle when the water boiled, and the
mercury only rose to 99°. Coffee was soon ready, and
eagerly gulped down by everybody. The dry meat cer-
tainly seemed poor fare, and Paganel couldn't help say-
ing:
"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."
A SUDDEN DESCENT 69
"Enchanted with it, my brave Major; still I must con-
fess 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, not-
withstanding the cold and the darkness, you would do it
without the least hesitation?"
"Of course; and if it will give you the slightest pleas-
ure --"
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 animals, but from a whole troop, and one, more-
over, 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 Glen-
arvan 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 Mulrady.
"Impossible," returned Paganel. "That is regular
howling."
"Let us go out and see," said Glenarvan.
"Yes, and be ready for hunting," replied McNabbs, arm-
ing himself with his carbine.
They all rushed forthwith out of the <i>casucha</i>. 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 <i>silhouette</i> of some towering
rocks here and there. The howls, and clearly the howls of
terrified animals, were redoubled. They proceeded from
that part of the 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 tremble. There were hun-
dreds, perhaps thousands, of these animals, and in spite of
70 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
the rarefied atmosphere, their 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
few 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 voice, the voice of Paganel.
"Got what?" asked Glenarvan.
"My spectacles," was the reply. "One might expect
to lose that 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 Mc-
Nabbs' prize by the light of the fire.
It was a pretty creature, like a small camel 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 <i>café au lait</i>.
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 knew 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," said Paganel.
"Can you cook, then, Monsieur Paganel?" asked Rob-
ert.
"I should think so, my boy. I'm a Frenchman, and in
every Frenchman there is a cook."
Five minutes afterward Paganel began to grill large
slices of venison on the embers made by the use of the
A SUDDEN DESCENT 71
<i>llarettas</i>, 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 general grimace, and
such exclamations as -- "Tough!" "It is horrible." "It
is not eatable."
The poor <i>savant</i> 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 all he cared about was to find out how
it happened that the flesh of the guanaco, which was cer-
tainly good and eatable food, had turned out so badly in
his hands. At last light broke in on him, and he called
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?"
"What do you mean?" asked Tom Austin.
"I mean this: the guanaco is only good for eating when
it is killed in a state of rest. If it has been long hunted,
and gone over much ground before it is captured, it is no
longer eatable. I can affirm the fact by the mere taste,
that 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 pos-
sibly answer. Take my advice, and let us go to sleep with-
out troubling our heads about it. I say, Major, shall we
go to sleep?"
"Yes, we'll go to sleep, Paganel."
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
72 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
all sides of the hut, the deep bass contribution of Paganel
completing the harmony.
But Glenarvan could not sleep. Secret uneasiness kept
him in a continual state of wakefulness. His thoughts re-
verted 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 among 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 search would actually commence, and perhaps
success was close at hand. He thought of Captain Grant
and his two sailors, and their deliverance from cruel bond-
age. 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 hear rumbling
noises in the distance, dull and threatening like the mutter-
ings of thunder before a storm. There surely must be a
storm raging 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. Not a cloud visible either above or below. Here
and there was a passing reflection from the flames of An-
tuco, 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 <i>casucha</i>
more uneasy than ever, questioning within himself as to
the connection between these sounds and the flight of the
guanacos. He looked at his watch and found the time was
about two in the morning. As he had no certainty, how-
ever, of any immediate danger, he did not wake his com-
A SUDDEN DESCENT 73
panions, who were sleeping soundly after their fatigue, and
after a little dozed off himself, and slumbered heavily for
some hours.
All of a sudden a violent crash made him start 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 <i>casucha</i> rocked to and fro, and opened.
He shouted to his companions, but they were already
awake, and tumbling pell-mell over each other. They
were being rapidly dragged down a steep declivity. Day
dawned and revealed a terrible scene. The form of the
mountains changed in an instant. Cones were cut off.
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
twice destroyed, and Santiago four times laid in ruins in
fourteen years. This region of the globe is so underlaid
with 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 <i>tremblores</i>.
The plateau to which the seven men were clinging, hold-
ing on by tufts of lichen, and giddy and terrified in the ex-
treme, was rushing down the declivity with the swiftness of
an express, at the rate of fifty miles an hour. Not a cry
was possible, nor an attempt to get off or stop. They could
not even have heard themselves speak. The internal rum-
blings, 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 along without jolts or jerks, and some-
times 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 roots,
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
74 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
could calculate, nor what it would end in ultimately. None
of the party knew whether the rest were 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
with the whirling snow, they gasped for breath, and became
exhausted 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 very 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
another.
The Major counted them. All were there except one --
that one was Robert Grant.
CHAPTER XIV
PROVIDENTIALLY RESCUED
THE eastern side of the Cordilleras of the Andes con-
sists of a succession of lengthened declivities, which slope
down almost insensibly to the plain. The soil is carpeted
with rich herbage, and adorned with magnificent trees,
among which, in great numbers, were apple-trees, planted
at the time of the conquest, and golden with fruit. There
were literally, perfect forests of these. This district was,
in fact, just a corner of fertile Normandy.
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 devas-
tating work further on, for shocks of earthquake are always
occurring in some part or other of the Andes. This time
the shock had been one of extreme violence. The outline
PROVIDENTIALLY RESCUED 75
of the mountains was wholly altered, and the Pampas
guides would have sought vainly for the accustomed land-
marks.
A magnificent day had dawned. The sun was just rising
from his ocean 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 re-
stored 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. Paganel was
particularly attached to him, and so was the Major, with all
his apparent coldness. As for Glenarvan, he was in ab-
solute despair when he heard of his disappearance, and pic-
tured to himself the child lying in some deep abyss, wildly
crying for succor.
"We must go and look for him, and look till we find
him," he exclaimed, almost unable to keep back his tears.
"We cannot leave him to his fate. Every valley and preci-
pice and abyss must be searched through 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! If we lose the
boy, 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 venture
to meet his gaze.
At last he said,
"Well, you hear what I say, but you make no response.
Do you mean to tell me that you have no hope -- not the
slightest?"
Again there was silence, till McNabbs asked:
"Which of you can recollect when Robert disappeared?"
No one could say.
"Well, then," resumed the Major, "you know this at
76 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
any rate. Who was the child beside during our descent of
the Cordilleras?"
"Beside me," replied Wilson.
"Very well. Up to what moment did you see him be-
side you? Try if you can remember."
"All that I can recollect is that Robert 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 time to you. Are
you sure you are not making a mistake?"
"I don't think I am. No; it was just about two min-
utes, as I tell you."
"Very well, then; and was Robert on your 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 to-
ward the right: "and I should judge," he added, "consid-
ering the time that has elapsed, that the spot where he fell
is about two miles up. Between that height and the ground
is where 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 com-
menced their explorations, keeping constantly to the line
they had made in their descent, examining closely every
fissure, and going into the very depths of the abysses,
choked up though they partly 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 death 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 es-
caped his lips amid his sighs were,
"I shall not go away! I shall not go away!"
PROVIDENTIALLY RESCUED 77
No one of the party but could enter into his feeling, and
respect it.
"Let us wait," said Paganel to the Major and Tom Aus-
tin. "We will take a little rest, and recruit our strength.
We need it anyway, either to prolong our search or con-
tinue our route."
"Yes; and, as Edward wishes it, we will 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 Major had no
difficulty in finding a suitable place of encampment. He
chose a clump of tall carob trees, under which they ar-
ranged 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 <i>rio</i>, which supplied them
with water, though it was still somewhat muddy after the
disturbance of the avalanche. Mulrady soon had a fire
lighted on the grass, 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 prostra-
tion.
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 for help would fall upon his
ear. He ventured far up in spite of his being alone, strain-
ing his ear with painful eagerness to catch the faintest
sound, and calling aloud in an agony of despair.
But he heard nothing save the beatings of his own heart,
though he wandered all night on the mountain. Some-
times 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 useless 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 plateau,
even against his will. His despair was terrible. Who
could dare to speak of quitting this fatal valley? Yet pro-
78 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
visions were done, and Argentine 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 Atlan-
tic Ocean was the appointed meeting place with the <i>Duncan</i>.
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
hear 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," replied 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 almost noon. McNabbs hesitated now
no longer, but, acting 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!"
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 direction 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 edge
of precipices down into the depths of abysses. It seizes
PROVIDENTIALLY RESCUED 79
sheep, and kids, and young calves, browsing on the plains,
and carries them off 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 Glen-
arvan, keeping his eye immovably fixed on the bird. The
enormous creature was fast approaching, sometimes hover-
ing 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 about
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 carti-
laginous 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 Rob-
ert were still alive! That bird."
But it was too late. The condor had dropped out of
sight behind the crags. Only a second passed, a second
that 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 ap-
parently lifeless -- it was Robert Grant. The bird had
seized him by his clothes, and had him hanging already at
least one hundred and 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 car-
80 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
bine, took aim at the condor. His arm was too trembling,
however, to keep the weapon steady.
"Let me do it," said the Major. And with a calm eye,
and sure hands and motionless body, he aimed at the bird,
now three hundred feet above him in the air.
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 head, 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 his
companions.
When they reached the spot the bird was dead, and the
body of Robert was quite concealed beneath his mighty
wings. Glenarvan flung himself on the corpse, and drag-
ging 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 human 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.
CHAPTER XV
THALCAVE
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 brave fel-
lows were so overjoyed at the sight of him, that in spite
of his weak state, none of them would be satisfied without
V. IV Verne
THALCAVE 81
giving him a hug. However, it seemed as if good rough
hugging did not hurt sick people; at any rate 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 suggested looking for him, and he was not far off, for
about fifty paces from the <i>rio</i> 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 the 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 to-
gether 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 col-
ors 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 in-
telligence, notwithstanding the medley of colors by which
it was disfigured. His waiting attitude was full of dignity;
indeed, to see him standing grave and motionless on his
pedestal of rocks, one might have taken him for a statue
of <i>sang-froid</i>.
As soon as the Major perceived him, he pointed him out
to Glenarvan, who ran toward him immediately. The
Patagonian came two steps forward to meet him, and Glen-
arvan caught hold of his hand and pressed it in his own.
It was impossible to mistake the meaning of the action, for
the noble face 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 for a few
minutes, and spoke again in another language. But this
second idiom was no more intelligible than the first. Cer-
tain words, however, caught Glenarvan's ear as sounding
like Spanish, a few sentences of which he could speak.
82 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
<i>Espanol?</i>" he asked.
The Patagonian nodded in reply, a movement of the head
which has an affirmative significance among all nations.
"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 understand 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:
"<i>Vos sois um homen de bem</i>." (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 said; and in slow, deliberate
tones he went on, "<i>Sam duvida um Patagao</i>" (A Patagon-
ian, undoubtedly).
No response still.
"<i>Dizeime!</i>" said Paganel (Answer me).
But no answer came.
"<i>Vos compriendeis?</i>" (Do you understand?) shouted
Paganel, at the very top of his voice, as if he would burst
his throat.
Evidently the Indian did not understand, for he replied
in Spanish,
"<i>No comprendo</i>" (I do not understand).
It was Paganel's turn now to be amazed. He pushed
his spectacles right down over his nose, as if greatly irri-
tated, and said,
"I'll be hanged if I can make out one word of his in-
fernal patois. It is Araucanian, that's certain!"
"Not a bit of it!" said Glenarvan. "It was Spanish
he spoke."
And addressing the Patagonian, he repeated the word,
"<i>Espanol?</i>" (Spanish?).
THALCAVE 83
"<i>Si, si</i>" (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 misadven-
tures? 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. Perhaps it is some
other language you have been studying all this time instead
of --"
But Paganel would not allow him to proceed. He
shrugged his shoulders, 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 speaks badly," re-
plied the learned geographer, getting impatient.
"He speaks badly; that is to say, because you can't un-
derstand him," returned the Major coolly.
"Come, come, McNabbs," put in Glenarvan, "your sup-
position is quite inadmissable. However <i>distrait</i> our friend
Paganel is, it is hardly likely he would study one language
for another."
"Well, Edward -- or rather you, my good Paganel -- ex-
plain it then."
"I explain nothing. I give proof. Here is the book I
use daily, to practice myself in the difficulties of the Span-
ish language. Examine it for yourself, Major," he said,
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 see
whether I am imposing on you," he continued, indignantly.
"And what's the name of this book?" asked the Major,
as he took it from his hand.
"The <i>Lusiades</i>, an admirable epic, which --"
"The <i>Lusiades!</i>" exclaimed Glenarvan.
"Yes, my friend, the <i>Lusiades</i> 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 learning for the last six weeks!"
84 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"Camoens! <i>Luisades!</i> 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.
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 doing? 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 throwing myself
out of the window instead of my cigar!"
To hear Paganel bemoan his misadventures and see his
comical discomfiture, would have upset anyone's gravity.
Besides, he set the example himself, and said:
"Laugh away, my friends, laugh as loud as you like; you
can't laugh at me half as much as I laugh at myself!"
"But, I say," said the Major, after a minute, "this
doesn't alter the fact that we have no interpreter."
"Oh, don't distress yourself about that," replied Paga-
nel, "Portuguese and Spanish are so much alike that I made
a mistake; but this very resemblance will be a great help
toward rectifying it. In a very short time I shall be able
to thank 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 learn that he
was a guide by occupation, and, moreover, a guide 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 hand on
his head, and proceeded to examine him with the greatest
care, gently feeling each of his aching limbs. Then he
THALCAVE 85
went down to the <i>rio</i>, 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 ex-
quisite delicacy, and his treatment so revived the lad's
strength, that it was soon evident 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 mules were both
lacking. Happily, they had Thalcave, however, a prac-
tised guide, and one of the most intelligent of his class.
He undertook to find all that was needed, and offered to
take him to a <i>tolderia</i> of Indians, not further than four
miles off at most, where 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 Thal-
cave. The road lay through a beautiful fertile region,
abounding in rich pasturages; where a hundred thousand
cattle might have fed comfortably. Large ponds, con-
nected by an inextricable labyrinth of <i>rios</i>, amply watered
these plains and produced their greenness. Swans with
black heads were disporting in the water, disputing pos-
session with the numerous intruders which gamboled over
the <i>llanos</i>. The feathered tribes were of most brilliant
plumage, and of marvelous variety and deafening noise.
The isacus, a graceful sort of dove with gray feathers
streaked with white, and the yellow cardinals, were flitting
about in the trees like moving flowers; while overhead pig-
eons, sparrows, chingolos, bulgueros, and mongitas, 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 delight, that he seemed hardly to have started before
86 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
they came in sight of the Indian camp, or <i>tolderia</i>, situated
in the heart of a valley.
About thirty nomadic Indians were living there in rude
cabins made of branches, pasturing immense herds of milch
cows, sheep, oxen, and horses. They went from one prairie
to another, always finding a well-spread table for their
four-footed guests.
These nomads were a hybrid type of Araucans, Pehu-
enches, and Aucas. They were Ando-Peruvians, of an
olive tint, of medium stature and massive form, with a
low forehead, almost circular face, thin lips, high cheek-
bones, effeminate features, and cold expression. As a
whole, they are about the least interesting of the Indians.
However, it was their herds Glenarvan wanted, not them-
selves. 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 <i>charqui</i>, or dried meat, several meas-
ures of rice, and leather bottles for water, the Indians agreed
to take twenty ounces of gold as they could not get
wine or rum, which they would have preferred, though they
were perfectly acquainted with the value of gold.
Glenarvan wished to purchase an eighth horse for the
Patagonian, but he gave him to understand that it would be
useless.
They got back to the camp in less than half 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 pleas-
ant 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 Van der Brock, both eight feet high;
but he caught up Spanish phrases from the Indian and
studied the language without a book this time, gesticulat-
ing at a great rate all the grand sonorous words that fell
on his ear.
THE NEWS OF THE LOST CAPTAIN 87
"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?"
CHAPTER XVI
THE NEWS OF THE LOST CAPTAIN
NEXT day, the 22d of October, at eight o'clock in the
morning, Thalcave gave the signal for departure. Between
the 22d and 42d degrees the Argentine soil slopes east-
ward, and all the travelers had to do was to follow the
slope right down to the sea.
Glenarvan had supposed Thalcave's refusal of a horse
was that he preferred walking, as some guides do, but 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 hunting weapons in common
use on the Argentine plains -- the <i>bolas</i> and the <i>lazo</i>. The
<i>bolas</i> consists of three balls fastened together by a strap of
leather, attached to the front of the <i>recado</i>. The Indians
fling them often at the distance of a hundred 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 <i>lazo</i> is always retained in the hand. It is simply a
rope, thirty feet long, made 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, while the left
keeps fast hold of the rope, the other end of which is fast-
88 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
ened to the saddle. A long carbine, in the shoulder belt com-
pleted the accouterments of the Patagonian.
He took his place at the head of the party, quite uncon-
scious of the admiration he was exciting, and they set 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 Glenar-
van as to his ability to keep his seat.
The Pampas commenced at the very foot of the Cordil-
leras. They may be divided into three parts. The first
extends from the chain of 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 Ayres; from this
point to the sea, the foot of the traveler treads over im-
mense prairies of lucerne and thistles, which constitute the
third division of the Pampas.
On issuing from the gorges of the Cordilleras, Glenar-
van and his band came first to plains of sand, called
<i>medanos</i>, lying in ridges like waves of the sea, and so ex-
tremely 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, noth-
ing could be more disagreeable than the dust which was
thrown off by these innumerable <i>medanos</i>, which was so
impalpable that close one's eyes as they might, it found its
way through 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 miles behind them, the
dark outlines being already almost lost in the evening mists.
They were all somewhat fatigued with the journey, and
glad enough to halt for the night on the banks of the Neu-
quem, called Ramid, or Comoe by certain geographers, 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,
THE NEWS OF THE LOST CAPTAIN 89
however, the sun's rays were extremely scorching, and when
evening came, a bar of clouds streaked the southwest hori-
zon -- a sure sign of a change in the weather. The Pata-
gonian 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 <i>Pampero</i>."
And he went on to explain that this <i>Pampero</i> is very com-
mon in the Argentine plains. It is an extremely dry wind
which blows from the southwest. Thalcave was not mis-
taken, for the <i>Pampero</i> 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 them in a close group.
Glenarvan was afraid they would be delayed by the con-
tinuance of the hurricane, but Paganel was able to reas-
sure him on that score, after consulting his barometer.
"The <i>Pampero</i> generally brings a tempest which lasts
three days, and may be always foretold by the depression
of the mercury," he said. "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 are welcome to
turn over my leaves whenever you like."
The book was right. At one o'clock the wind suddenly
lulled, 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. Glenar-
van 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
frequented 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.
90 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
To a solitary individual, a little troop of eight men, all
mounted and well armed, wore a suspicious aspect, so that
any intercourse either with honest men or even banditti,
was almost impossible.
Glenarvan was regretting this exceedingly, when he unex-
pectedly met with a singular justification of his rendering
of the eventful document.
In pursuing the course the travelers had laid 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 un-
derstood quite well, however, that they were not bound for
any particular town, or village, or settlement. Every morn-
ing they set out in a straight line 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 maintained
absolute silence. But on reaching a particular point, he
checked his horse suddenly, and said to Paganel:
"The Carmen route."
"Yes, my good Patagonian," replied Paganel in his best
Spanish; "the route from Carmen to Mendoza."
"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 was joking, for an Indian is always grave.
"You are not going to Carmen, then?" he added, after
a moment's pause.
"No."
"Nor to Mendoza?"
"No, nor to Mendoza."
Just then Glenarvan came up to ask the reason of the
stoppage, and what he and Thalcave were discussing.
"He wanted to know whether we were going to Carmen
or Mendoza, and was very much surprised at my negative
reply to both questions."
"Well, certainly, it must seem strange to him."
THE NEWS OF THE LOST CAPTAIN 91
"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, and what our mo-
tive is for always going east."
"That would be a difficult matter, for an Indian knows
nothing about degrees, and the finding of the document
would appear to him a mere fantastic story."
"Is it the story he would not understand, or the story-
teller?" said McNabbs, quietly
"Ah, McNabbs, I see you have small faith in my Spanish
yet."
"Well, try it, my good friend."
"So I will."
And turning round to the Patagonian he began his nar-
rative, breaking down frequently for the want of a word,
and the difficulty of making certain details 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 called to aid. Paganel got
down on the ground and traced a geographical map on the
sand, showing where the lines of latitude and longitude
cross and where the two oceans were, along which the Car-
men route led. Thalcave looked on composedly, without
giving any indication of comprehending or not comprehend-
ing.
The lesson had lasted half an hour, when the geographer
left off, wiped his streaming face, and waited for the Pata-
gonian 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 lines drawn on the sand, now becoming fast
effaced 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 the
Major, and determined to carry the day, was about to re-
commence his geographical illustrations, when the Indian
stopped him by a gesture, and said:
92 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"You are in search of a prisoner?"
"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 the guide, "that has sent
you the secret of this prisoner on the waves."
"God himself."
"His will be accomplished then," replied the native al-
most solemnly. "We will march east, and if it needs be, to
the sun."
Paganel, triumphing in his pupil, immediately translated
his replies to his companions, and exclaimed:
"What an intelligent race! All my explanations would
have been lost on nineteen in every twenty of the peasants in
my own country."
Glenarvan requested him to ask the Patagonian 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 find 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
mother tongue.
"And what about the prisoner?" asked Paganel.
"He was a foreigner."
"You have seen him?"
"No; but I have heard the Indian speak of him. He is
brave; he has the heart of a bull."
"The heart of a bull!" said Paganel. "Ah, this
magnificent Patagonian language. You understand him,
my friends, he means a courageous man."
"My father!" exclaimed Robert Grant, and, turning to
Paganel, he asked what the Spanish was for, "Is it my
father."
"<i>Es mio padre</i>," replied the geographer.
THE NEWS OF THE LOST CAPTAIN 93
Immediately taking Thalcave's hands in his own, the boy
said, in a soft tone:
"<i>Es mio padre</i>."
"<i>Suo padre</i>," replied the Patagonian, 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?" All these questions poured upon
him at once.
He had not long to wait for an answer, and learned that
the European was a slave in one of the tribes that roamed
the country between the Colorado and the Rio Negro.
"But where was the last place he was in?"
"With the Cacique Calfoucoura."
"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 false in action," said
Paganel, after he had translated this beautiful figure 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?"
"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 perfectly with the date of the document. But one
question still remained for him to put to Thalcave.
"You spoke of a prisoner," he said; "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 three men had become separated long ago; but still this
much was certain, that the Indians had spoken of a Euro-
pean that was in their power; and the date of the captivity,
and even the descriptive phrase about the captive, evidently
pointed to Harry Grant.
CHAPTER XVII
A SERIOUS NECESSITY
THE Argentine Pampas extend from the thirty-fourth to
the fortieth degree of southern latitude. The word <i>pampa</i>,
of Araucanian origin, signifies <i>grass plain</i>, and justly applies
to the whole region. The mimosas growing on the western
part, and the substantial herbage on the eastern, give those
plains a peculiar appearance. The soil is composed of sand
and red or yellow 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 gigantic race that lived in a past
age.
The horses went on at a good pace through the thick
<i>paja-brava</i>, the grass of the Pampas, <i>par excellence</i>, so high
and thick that the Indians find shelter in it from storms.
At certain distances, but increasingly seldom, there were
wet, marshy spots, almost entirely under water, where the
willows grew, and a plant called the <i>Gygnerium argenteum</i>.
Here the horses drank their fill greedily, as if bent on
quenching their thirst for past, present and future. Thal-
cave 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 <i>rios</i>, but even the ponds dug out by the Indians
were dried up. As the drought seemed to increase with
every 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 they generally
dig wells, and find water a few feet below the surface. But
the travelers could 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 felt it too painful.
They halted at evening after a course of thirty miles and
94
A SERIOUS NECESSITY 95
eagerly looked forward to a good night's rest to compensate
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 generally puts to
flight these little pests.
Even these petty ills of life could not ruffle 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 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
riders had stinted themselves for their sakes, still their ration
was very insufficient. The drought was constantly increas-
ing, 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 others,
rode hastily back to report the approach of a troop of In-
dians. The news was received with very different feelings
by Glenarvan and Thalcave. The Scotchman was glad of
the chance of gleaning some information about his ship-
wrecked countryman, while the Patagonian hardly cared to
encounter the nomadic Indians of the prairie, knowing their
bandit 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 ten 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 races, which had been al-
most 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 lassos, and, by their
96 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
dexterity in the management of their horses, showed them-
selves to be accomplished riders.
They appeared to have stopped for the purpose 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 travelers to attempt to over-
take them with such wornout horses.
"The cowards!" exclaimed Paganel.
"They scampered off too quick for honest folks," said
McNabbs.
"Who are these Indians, Thalcave?" asked Paganel.
"Gauchos."
"The Gauchos!" cried Paganel; and, turning to his com-
panions, he added, "we need not have been so much 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, the Gauchos are
formidable out-and-out bandits."
"The idea!" exclaimed Paganel.
And forthwith commenced a lively discussion of this
ethnological thesis -- so lively that the Major became excited,
and, quite contrary to his usual suavity, said bluntly:
"I believe you are wrong, Paganel."
"Wrong?" replied Paganel.
"Yes. Thalcave took them for robbers, and he knows
what he is talking about."
"Well, Thalcave was mistaken this time," retorted
Paganel, somewhat sharply. "The Gauchos are agricul-
turists 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."
V. IV Verne
[illustration omitted]
[page intentionally blank]
A SERIOUS NECESSITY 97
"Well, well, you have committed an error, that's all,
Monsieur Paganel."
"What, Monsieur McNabbs! you tell me I have com-
mitted an error?"
"An inadvertence, if you like, which you can put among
the <i>errata</i> in the next edition."
Paganel, highly incensed at his geographical 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 need of such <i>errata</i>."
"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."
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 surprised
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 Paganel; "what's the
north wind to do with it?"
"Ah, it is just that," said Glenarvan. "It's the north
wind that has put you in a bad temper. I have heard that,
in South America, 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 intervention 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 <i>tramontane</i> does in the
Campagna of Rome."
"Crimes!" returned the geographer. "Do I look like
a man that would commit crimes?"
"That's not exactly what I said."
98 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"Tell me at once that I want to assassinate you?"
"Well, I am really afraid," replied 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 con-
siderably in advance of the rest, descried in the distance 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.
CHAPTER XVIII
IN SEARCH OF WATER
LAKE SALINAS ends the string of lagoons connected with
the Sierras Ventana and Guamini. Numerous expeditions
were formerly made there from Buenos Ayres, to collect
the salt deposited on its banks, as the waters contain great
quantities of chloride of sodium.
But when Thalcave spoke of the lake as supplying drink-
able water he was thinking of the <i>rios</i> 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
the 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
not quench thirst. Hunger and fatigue were forgotten in
the face of this imperious necessity. A sort of leather tent,
called a <i>roukah</i>, which had been left by the natives, af-
forded the party a temporary resting-place, and the weary
horses stretched themselves along the muddy banks, and
tried to browse on the marine plants and dry reeds they
found there -- nauseous to the taste as they must have been.
As soon as the whole party were ensconced in the <i>roukah</i>,
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 enough for
IN SEARCH OF WATER 99
both. After a little, Thalcave sat silent and folded 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 done 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 toward the river Guamini, which
throws itself into Lake San Lucas about thirty-one miles
off. If there should be water enough in the river, 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
useless journey."
"And what will we do then?" asked Austin.
"Then we shall have to make up our minds 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 volun-
teer to accompany Thalcave."
"Oh, my Lord, take me," said Robert, 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 with the re-
serve corps," replied the Major. "You are too well ac-
quainted with the 37th parallel and the river Guamini and
the whole Pampas for us to let you go. Neither Mulrady,
nor Wilson, nor myself would be able to rejoin Thalcave
at the given rendezvous, but we will put ourselves under
the banner of the brave Jacques Paganel with perfect con-
fidence."
"I resign myself," said the geographer, much flattered
at having supreme command.
"But mind, Paganel, no distractions," added the Major.
100 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"Don't you take us to the wrong place -- to the borders of
the Pacific, for instance."
"Oh, you insufferable Major; it would serve you right,"
replied Paganel, laughing. "But how will you manage to
understand what Thalcave says, Glenarvan?" he con-
tinued.
"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," said Paganel.
"We'll have supper first," rejoined Glenarvan, "and
then sleep, if we can, till it is starting time."
The supper was not very reviving without drink 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 given 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, shout-
ing "<i>Au revoir!</i>" to their companions.
"Don't come back whatever you do," called Paganel
after them.
The <i>Desertio de las Salinas</i>, which they had to traverse,
is a dry plain, covered with stunted trees not above ten feet
high, and small mimosas, which the Indians call <i>curra-
mammel;</i> and <i>jumes</i>, a bushy shrub, rich in soda. Here
and there large spaces were covered with salt, which spar-
kled in the sunlight with astonishing brilliancy. These
might easily have been taken for sheets of ice, had not the
intense heat forbidden the illusion; and 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
pasturage is incomparable. Unfortunately, to reach them
would necessitate a march of one hundred and thirty miles
IN SEARCH OF WATER 101
south; and this was 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 main, as if
instinctively knowing whither they were bound. Thaouka
especially displayed a courage that neither fatigue nor hun-
ger could damp. He bounded like a bird over the dried-up
<i>canadas</i> and the bushes of <i>curra-mammel</i>, 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. Thal-
cave inspirited his companions as much as Thaouka did his
four-footed brethren. He sat motionless in the saddle, but
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 evi-
dently congratulating you, my boy, and paying you compli-
ments."
"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?" said 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. In-
deed, 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 <i>sou-</i>
102 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
<i>venir</i> from all the places he had been to; and, better still,
of loving 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 lochs of
our country. The time sometimes comes back to me, but
very 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
affection.
During this conversation the horses had been 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, "Thal-
cave has set us on the track, and I have great confidence 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 man-
ner, and Captain Mangles, and Monsieur Paganel, and all
the sailors on the <i>Duncan</i>. How courageous and devoted
they are."
"Yes, my boy, I know that," replied Glenarvan.
"And do you know that you are the best of all."
"No, most certainly I don't know that."
"Well, it is time you did, my Lord," said the boy, seizing
his lordship's hand, and covering it with kisses.
Glenarvan shook his head, but said no more, as a ges-
ture from Thalcave made them spur on their horses and
hurry forward.
But it was soon evident that, with the exception of Tha-
ouka, the wearied animals could not go quicker than a
walking pace. At noon they were obliged to let them rest
IN SEARCH OF WATER 103
for an hour. They could not go on at all, and refused to
eat the <i>alfafares</i>, a poor, burnt-up sort of lucerne that grew
there.
Glenarvan began to be uneasy. Tokens of sterility were
not the least on the decrease, and the want of water might
involve serious calamities. Thalcave said nothing, think-
ing 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 swiftly enough,
and reached the <i>rio</i> in a few hours, but Thalcave would not
leave his companions behind, alone in the midst of a desert.
It was hard work, however, to get the animal to consent
to walk quietly. He kicked, and reared, and neighed vio-
lently, 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 arguing, the noble creature yielded,
though he still champed the bit.
Thalcave did not understand Thaouka, it turned out,
though Thaouka understood him. The intelligent animal
felt humidity in the atmosphere and drank it in with frenzy,
moving and making a noise with his tongue, as if taking
deep draughts of some cool refreshing liquid. The Pata-
gonian 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 too, for there
was no need now to urge them on; they tore over the 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 they would or not
but they were so rejoiced at being able to quench their thirst,
that this compulsory bath was no grievance.
104 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"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 hurrying himself,
taking small gulps, but "as long as a lazo," as the Patagon-
ians say. He seemed as if he were never going to leave off,
and really there was some danger of his swallowing up the
whole river.
At last Glenarvan said:
"Well, our friends won't be disappointed 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
discover on the banks of the <i>rio</i> a <i>ramada</i>, a sort of en-
closure, which had served as a fold for flocks, and was shut
in on three sides. A more suitable place could not be found
for their night's lodging, provided they had no fear of sleep-
ing 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 sun-
shine, to dry their dripping garments.
"Well, now we've secured a lodging, we must think of
supper," said Glenarvan. "Our friends must not have
reason 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
IN SEARCH OF WATER 105
game in the surrounding plains. A sort of partridge
peculiar to the Pampas, called <i>tinamous;</i> black wood-hens;
a species of plover, called <i>teru-teru;</i> yellow rays, and water-
fowl with magnificent green plumage, 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
the underwood. Instantly there rose by the hundred roe-
bucks 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 themselves
with humbler game, though in an alimentary point of view
nothing better could be wished. A dozen of red partridges
and rays were speedily brought down, and Glenarvan also
managed very cleverly to kill a <i>tay-tetre</i>, or peccary, a
pachydermatous animal, the flesh of which is excellent
eating.
In less than half an hour the hunters had all the game
they required. Robert had killed a curious animal belong-
ing to the order <i>Edentata</i>, an armadillo, a sort of tatou, cov-
ered with a hard bony shell, in movable pieces, and measur-
ing a foot and 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 <i>nandou</i>, a species of
ostrich, remarkable for its extreme swiftness.
There could be no entrapping such an animal, and the In-
dian did not attempt it. He urged Thaouka to a gallop, and
made a direct attack, knowing that if the first aim missed the
<i>nandou</i> would soon tire out horse and rider by involving
them in an inextricable labyrinth of windings. The mo-
ment, therefore, that Thalcave got to a right distance, he
flung his <i>bolas</i> with such a powerful hand, 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
<i>nandou</i> is highly esteemed, and Thalcave felt bound to con-
tribute his share of the common repast.
106 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
They returned to the <i>ramada</i>, bringing back the string of
partridges, the ostrich, the peccary, and the armadillo. The
ostrich and the peccary were prepared for cooking by divest-
ing them of their tough skins, and cutting them 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 him in
his own shell over the glowing embers.
The substantial dishes were reserved for the 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
<i>usquebaugh</i>, or whisky.
The horses had not been overlooked. A large quantity
of dry fodder was discovered lying heaped up in the
<i>ramada</i>, and this supplied them amply with both food and
bedding.
When all was ready the three companions wrapped them-
selves in the ponchos, and stretched themselves on an eider-
down of <i>alfafares</i>, the usual bed of hunters on the Pampas.
CHAPTER XIX
THE RED WOLVES
NIGHT came, but the orb of night was invisible to the
inhabitants of the earth, for she was just in her first quar-
ter. The dim light of the stars was all that illumined the
plain. The waters of the Guamini ran silently, like a sheet
of oil over a surface of marble. Birds, quadrupeds, and
reptiles were resting motionless after the fatigues of the
day, and the silence of the desert brooded over the far-
spreading Pampas.
Glenarvan, Robert, and Thalcave, had followed the com-
mon example, and lay in profound slumber on their soft
couch of lucerne. The worn-out horses had stretched them-
selves 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 inclosure, over which the dying
embers of the fire shed a fitful light.
However, the Indian's sleep did not last long; for about
THE RED WOLVES 107
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 mate-
rials heaped up in the inclosure, and the expression of anx-
iety on his countenance seemed to deepen. This was not
surprising, as the whole pile of <i>alfafares</i> 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 posture, 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, Thaouka gave a
low neigh, and stretched his nostrils toward the entrance
of the <i>ramada</i>.
This startled the Patagonian, and made him rise to his
feet at once.
"Thaouka scents an enemy," he said to himself, going
toward the opening, to make careful survey of the plains.
Silence still prevailed, but not tranquillity; for Thalcave
caught a glimpse of shadows moving noiselessly over the
tufts of <i>curra-mammel</i>. Here and there luminous spots
appeared, dying out and rekindling constantly, in all direc-
tions, like fantastic lights dancing over the surface of an
immense lagoon. An inexperienced eye might have mis-
taken them for fireflies, which shine at night in many parts
of the Pampas; but Thalcave was not deceived; he knew
the enemies he had 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,
followed next instant by the report of the carbine, which
made the uproar a hundred times worse.
108 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
Glenarvan and Robert woke in alarm, and started to their
feet instantly.
"What is it?" exclaimed Robert.
"Is it the Indians?" asked Glenarvan.
"No," replied Thalcave, "the <i>aguaras</i>."
"<i>Aguaras?</i>" said Robert, looking inquiringly at Glen-
arvan.
"Yes," replied Glenarvan, "the red wolves of the
Pampas."
They seized their weapons at once, and stationed them-
selves 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 Glen-
arvan.
"No, my Lord," said the lad in a firm tone, "and more-
over, beside you I am afraid of nothing."
"So much the better. These <i>aguaras</i> are not very for-
midable either; and if it were not for their number I should
not give them a thought."
"Never mind; we are all well armed; let them come."
"We'll certainly give them a warm reception," rejoined
Glenarvan.
His Lordship only spoke thus to reassure the child, for
a secret terror filled him at the sight of this legion 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 mul-
titude?
As soon as Thalcave said the word <i>aguara</i>, 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 <i>Canis jubatus</i>, is in shape like a large
dog, and has the head of a fox. Its fur is a reddish-cin-
namon 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, prowl-
ing about by night and sleeping during the day. Its at-
tacks are particularly dreaded at the <i>estancias</i>, or sheep sta-
tions, as it often commits considerable ravages, carrying off
the finest of the flock. Singly, the <i>aguara</i> is not much to
be feared; but they generally go in immense packs, and
THE RED WOLVES 109
one had better have to deal with a jaguar 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 dens without a share.
It was certainly a very alarming situation to be in.
The assailants were gradually drawing closer. The
horses displayed signs of the liveliest terror, with the ex-
ception of Thaouka, who stamped his foot, and tried to
break loose 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 de-
fend the opening of the <i>ramada</i>. 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 powder 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 Glenarvan.
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 his place,
while Thalcave went back into the inclosure and gathered
up all the dried grass and <i>alfafares</i>, and, indeed, all the com-
bustibles he could rake together, and made a pile of them
at the entrance. Into this he flung one of the still-glowing
110 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 exaggerate
their numbers or their fury. The barrier of fire just raised
by Thalcave had redoubled their anger, though it had cut
off 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, notwith-
standing 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, relatively speaking,
less dangerous now. As long as the powder lasted and
the barrier of fire burned on, there was no fear of being
overmastered. But what was to be done afterward, when
both 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 gun steady, and stood with firm
foot ready to meet the attacks of the infuriated wolves.
However, after Glenarvan had calmly surveyed 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 tried to talk
to him by the help of the few Spanish words his memory
could muster, though their conversation was often inter-
rupted 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 deal
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 elapsed 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 hold out till day-
break. The <i>aguara</i> only prowls about at night, and goes
back to his lair with the first streak of dawn. It is a cow-
THE RED WOLVES 111
ardly 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
reddened 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 re-
mained 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 im-
minent 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 convul-
sively to his heart, pressed his lips on his forehead, while
tears he could not restrain streamed down his cheeks.
Robert looked up into his face with a smile, 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, Thal-
cave! my brave Patagonian! Bravo!" he added as the
Indian that moment leveled two enormous beasts who en-
deavored to leap across the barrier of flames.
But the fire was fast dying out, and the <i>denouement</i> 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
phosphorescent balls in the darkness. A few minutes
longer, and the whole pack would be in the inclosure.
Thalcave loaded his carbine for the last time, 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, mad
attempt to repulse the infuriated horde? Glenarvan did not
venture to ask.
112 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
At this very moment the wolves began to change 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 day-
break 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 <i>ramada</i>, as by common con-
sent, 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,
savage jaws had found their way through the palings. The
terrified horses broke loose from their halters and ran
about the inclosure, mad with fear.
Glenarvan put his arms round the young lad, and re-
solved to defend him as long as his life held out. Possibly
he might have made a useless attempt at flight when his
eye fell on Thalcave.
The Indian had been stalking about the <i>ramada</i> 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
single 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?"
V. IV Verne
THE RED WOLVES 113
"Yes," replied the Indian, understanding his gesture.
Then he said a few words in Spanish, which meant: "<i>Tha-
ouka; good horse; quick; will draw all the wolves away
after him</i>."
"Oh, Thalcave," exclaimed Glenarvan.
"Quick, quick!" replied the Indian, while Glenarvan
said, in a broken, agitated voice to Robert:
"Robert, my child, do you hear him? He wants to sac-
rifice himself for us. He wants to rush away over the
Pampas, and turn off the wolves from us by attracting them
to himself."
"Friend Thalcave," returned Robert, throwing himself
at the feet of the Patagonian, "friend Thalcave, don't
leave us!"
"No," said Glenarvan, "he shall 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 will
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 com-
mit 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 discussion con-
tinued.
Neither Glenarvan nor Thalcave appeared inclined to
yield. The Indian had dragged his companion towards
the entrance of the <i>ramada</i>, 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 not succeed, it would only
render the situation of those left behind more desperate.
114 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 him-
self 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 could 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 <i>ramada</i>. Al-
ready the plain had recovered its tranquillity, and all that
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 him-
self!"
"And suppose he falls?" said Glenarvan.
"He'll not fall."
But notwithstanding Thalcave's assurances, poor Glenar-
van 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 horses overtaking Thaouka; and also that boy and
horse had outdistanced 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 glim-
mer 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.
THE RED WOLVES 115
"Now!" cried Thalcave, "come."
Glenarvan made no reply, but took Robert's horse and
sprung into the saddle. Next minute both men were gal-
loping 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 spurs
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 pace,
till in a few minutes more they came up to the little detach-
ment conducted by Paganel. A cry broke from Glenar-
van's lips, for Robert was 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 inde-
scribable tenderness in his tone.
Both he and Robert leaped to the ground, and flung
themselves into each other's arms. Then the Indian hugged
the brave boy in his arms.
"He is alive, he is alive," repeated 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 veins of the proud creature. Then
turning to Paganel, he pointed to Robert, and said, "A
brave!" and employing the Indian metaphor, he added,
"his spurs did not tremble!"
But Glenarvan put his arms round the boy and 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 tones 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."
CHAPTER XX
STRANGE SIGNS
AFTER the first joy of the meeting was over, Paganel
and his party, except perhaps the Major, were only con-
scious of one feeling -- they were dying of thirst. Most for-
tunately for them, the Guamini ran not far off, and about
seven 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 violent the attack must have been, and how desperate
the resistance.
As soon as the travelers had drunk their fill, they began
to demolish the breakfast prepared in the <i>ramada</i>, and did
ample justice to the extraordinary viands. The <i>nandou</i>
fillets were pronounced first-rate, and the armadillo was
delicious.
"To eat moderately," said Paganel, "would be posi-
tive ingratitude to Providence. We must eat immoder-
ately."
And so they did, but were none the worse for it.
The water of the Guamini greatly aided digestion appar-
ently.
Glenarvan, however, was not going to imitate Hannibal
at Capua, and at ten o'clock next morning gave the signal
for starting. The leathern bottles were filled with water,
and the day's march commenced. The horses were so well
rested that they were quite fresh again, and kept up a canter
almost constantly. The country was not so parched up
now, and consequently less sterile, but still a desert. No
incident occurred of any importance during the 2d and 3d
of November, and in the evening they reached the boundary
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 Pam-
pas. It was here that Thalcave hoped to meet the Caciques,
in whose hands, he had no doubt, Harry Grant and his men
were prisoners.
From the time of leaving the Guamini, there was marked
116
STRANGE SIGNS 117
change in the temperature, to the great relief of the tra-
velers. It was much cooler, thanks to the violent and cold
winds from Patagonia, which constantly agitate the atmos-
pheric waves. Horses and men were glad enough of this,
after 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 hop-
ping about and larks singing joyously in concert with the
tangaras, the rivals in color of the brilliant humming birds.
On the thorny bushes the nests of the <i>annubis</i> swung to and
fro in the breeze like an Indian hammock; and on the shore
magnificent flamingos stalked in regular order like soldiers
marching, and spread out their flaming red wings. Their
nests were seen in groups of thousands, forming a com-
plete town, about a foot high, and resembling a truncated
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 too Robert. I
want witnesses."
And all three went off towards the flamingos, 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 <i>en masse</i>, while Paganel
watched them 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 ar-
rows when they were flying?"
118 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"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 illus-
trious countryman, Chateaubriand, made the inaccurate
comparison. Oh, Robert, comparison is the most danger-
ous figure in rhetoric that I know. Mind you avoid it all
your life, and 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 ap-
parently unable to make him understand. Thalcave's gaze
was fixed intently on the horizon, and his face wore a puz-
zled 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 Patagonian, the in-
terpreter 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
thick with companies of them, either driving along cattle
stolen from the <i>estancias</i>, 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 meet-
ing in this part of the Pampas?"
"Just the very ones who had the foreign prisoners in
their hands, the natives under the rule of the Caciques Cal-
foucoura, 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
STRANGE SIGNS 119
they scour the plains of the Pampas and the province of
Buenos Ayres. I quite share Thalcave's surprise at not
discovering any traces of them in regions which they usually
infest as <i>salteadores</i>, or bandits."
"And what must we do then?"
"I'll go and ask him," replied Paganel.
After a brief colloquy he returned and said:
"This is his advice, and very sensible 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 circum-
stance. Not to find an Indian where in general there were
only too many, was so unusual that there must be some
grave cause for it; but worse still if Harry Grant were a
prisoner 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, they 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 sighted in the distance.
This was Sierra Tapalquem, at the foot of which the trav-
elers camped that night.
The passage in the morning over this sierra, was accom-
plished without the slightest difficulty; after having crossed
the Cordillera of the Andes, it was easy work to ascend the
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 de-
fend the southern frontiers 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, however, three flying horsemen, well mounted
and well armed came in sight, gazed at them for an instant,
120 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
and then sped away with inconceivable rapidity. Glenar-
van 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, Paga-
nel, the north wind is not blowing to-day. What do you
think of those fellows yonder?"
"I think they look like regular bandits."
"And how far is it from looking to being, my good
geographer?"
"Only just a step, my dear Major."
Paganel's admission was received with a general laugh,
which did not in the least disconcert him. He went on
talking about the Indians 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 char-
acterized the Indian race.
But desolate as the country appeared, Thalcave was on
his guard against surprises, and gave orders to his party
to form themselves in a close platoon. It was a useless
precaution, however; for that same evening, they camped
for the night in an immense <i>tolderia</i>, which they not only
found perfectly empty, but which the Patagonian declared,
after he had examined it all round, must have been unin-
habited for a long time.
Next day, the first <i>estancias</i> of the Sierra Tandil came
in sight. The <i>estancias</i> are large cattle stations for breed-
ing 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 sur-
rounded by a deep moat, the principal building being encir-
cled 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,
A FALSE TRAIL 121
fording the <i>rio</i> of Los Huasos and also the Chapaleofu, a
few 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.
CHAPTER XXI
A FALSE TRAIL
THE Sierra Tandil rises a thousand feet above 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
short grass. The district of Tandil, to which it has given
its name, includes all the south of the Province of Buenos
Ayres, and terminates in a river which conveys north all
the <i>rios</i> 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 cir-
cumstance which betokened extreme negligence or ex-
treme 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 re-
minded Paganel instantly of the old subalterns in his own
country.
Thalcave was spokesman, and addressing the officer, pre-
sented Lord Glenarvan and his companions. While he
was speaking, the Commandant kept staring fixedly at Pag-
anel 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 for-
ward, and seizing both his hands in the most free-and-easy
fashion, said in a joyous voice, in the mother tongue of the
geographer:
"A Frenchman!"
"Yes, a Frenchman," replied Paganel.
"Ah! delightful! Welcome, welcome. I am a French-
122 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
man too," he added, shaking Paganel's hand with such
vigor as to be almost alarming.
"Is he a friend of yours, Paganel?" asked the Major.
"Yes," said Paganel, somewhat proudly. "One has
friends 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 have 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 remem-
ber how to put them together. He spoke more like a negro
belonging 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 it had been built in 1828; and,
strange to say, 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 name was Manuel
Ipharaguerre, so that he was almost a Spaniard. A year
after his arrival in the country 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 wife of the Comman-
dant 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 sol-
diers.
"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, either to
the profession of arms or the probable future of his chil-
A FALSE TRAIL 123
dren. He was happy, and as Goethe says, "Nothing that
makes 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 under-
stand how 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 jour-
ney across the Pampas, and ended by inquiring the reason
of the Indians having deserted the country.
"Ah! there was no one!" replied the Sergeant, shrug-
ging his shoulders -- "really no one, and us, too, our arms
crossed! Nothing to do!"
"But why?"
"War."
"War?"
"Yes, civil war between the Paraguayans and Buenos
Ayriens," replied the Sergeant.
"Well?"
"Well, Indians all in the north, in the 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
decimating the two parts of the republic -- a war which
ultimately required the intervention of Brazil. The In-
dians have everything to gain 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.
124 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
But this circumstance upset all Glenarvan's projects, for
if Harry Grant was a prisoner in the hands of the Caciques,
he must have been dragged north 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 make 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 Sergeant, exclaim-
ing,
"Tell us, tell us."
"It was some years ago," replied Manuel. "Yes; all
I heard was that some Europeans were prisoners, but I
never saw them."
"You are making a mistake," said Glenarvan. "It
can't be some years ago; the date of the shipwreck is ex-
plicitly given. The <i>Britannia</i> 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 hang-
ing on the lips of the Sergeant.
A FALSE TRAIL 125
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 Glenarvan, with as much im-
patience.
"My friends," replied Paganel, taking both Robert's
hands in his own, "we must resign ourselves to a sad dis-
aster. We have been on a wrong track. The prisoner
mentioned is not the captain at all, but one of my own
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 Ser-
geant, the nationality of the prisoner, the murder 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,
asked whether he had never heard of three English cap-
tives.
"Never," replied Manuel. "They would have known
of them at Tandil, I am sure. No, it cannot be."
After this, there was nothing further to do at Fort In-
dependence 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 <i>amour propre</i>, as an Indian, seemed quite
wounded by having allowed himself to go on a wrong
scent. No one, however, would have thought of reproach-
ing him for an error so pardonable.
They went back to the <i>fonda</i>, and had supper; but it was
a gloomy party that surrounded the table. It was not that
126 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 gone, for there was no chance of com-
ing 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 the
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 <i>Duncan</i> as quick as pos-
sible at the appointed rendezvous.
Paganel asked Glenarvan, however, to let him 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," said 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!" 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 must say, and it shall say, my friends, or my
name is not Jacques Paganel any longer."
CHAPTER XXII
THE FLOOD
A DISTANCE of 150 miles separates Fort Independence
from the shores of the Atlantic. Unless unexpected and
certainly improbable delays should occur, in four days
Glenarvan would rejoin the <i>Duncan</i>. But to return on
board without Captain Grant, and after having so com-
pletely 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 him-
self to have the horses saddled, and make all preparations.
Thanks to his activity, next morning at eight o'clock the
little troop was descending the grassy slopes of the Sierra.
Glenarvan, with Robert at his side, galloped along with-
out saying a word. His bold, determined nature made it
impossible to take failure quietly. His heart throbbed as
THE FLOOD 127
if it would burst, and his head was burning. Paganel, ex-
cited 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 shared the dejection of
their master. A timid rabbit happened to run across their
path, and the superstitious men looked 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," re-
turned Wilson sententiously.
Toward noon they had crossed the Sierra, and descended
into the undulating plains which extend to the sea. Lim-
pid <i>rios</i> intersected these plains, and lost themselves among
the tall grasses. The ground had once more become a dead
level, the last mountains of the Pampas were passed, and a
long carpet 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 vi-
cinity of the Atlantic, and the prevailing west wind, made
the climate of this district particularly damp. This was
evident by the fertility and abundance of the pasture and
its dark color. However, the clouds remained unbroken
for the present, and in the evening, after a brisk gallop of
forty miles, the horses stopped on the brink of deep <i>canadas</i>,
immense natural trenches filled with water. No shelter
was near, and ponchos had to serve both for tents and cov-
erlets as each man lay down and fell asleep beneath the
threatening sky.
Next day the presence of water became still more sen-
sibly felt; it seemed to exude from every pore of the
ground. Soon large ponds, some just beginning to form,
and some already deep, lay across the route to the east.
As long as they had only to deal with lagoons, circum-
scribed pieces of water unencumbered with aquatic plants,
128 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
the horses could get through well enough, but when they
encountered moving sloughs called <i>pentanos</i>, 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 see I am right."
The boy had not been mistaken, for presently 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 close packed, but a strange sort.
"Well," said Robert.
"This is peculiar certainly," said Paganel, and he turned
round to question Thalcave on the subject.
"The horns come out of the ground," replied the In-
dian, "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?"
"Yes," said the Patagonian.
And so it was. An immense herd had been suffocated
side by side in this enormous bog, and this was not the first
occurrence of the kind which had taken place in the Argen-
tine plains.
An hour afterward and the field of horns lay 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
V. IV Verne
THE FLOOD 129
around. His great height gave him a commanding view
of the whole horizon; but after a keen rapid survey, he
quickly resumed his seat and went on. About a mile fur-
ther he stopped again, and leaving the straight route, made
a circuit 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 repeated, made Glenarvan
very uneasy, and quite puzzled Paganel. At last, at Glen-
arvan'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 sea-
son, the Argentine plains had always been passable.
"But what is the cause of this increasing humidity?"
said Paganel.
"I do not know, and what if I did?"
"Could it be owing to the <i>rios</i> 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 unsatisfac-
tory reply, and went back to Glenarvan to report the result
of his conversation.
"And what does Thalcave advise us to do?" said Glen-
arvan.
Paganel went back to the guide and asked him.
"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 sheets 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 but
to bear it stolidly. The ponchos were streaming like the
overflowing gutter-spouts on the roof of a house, and the
130 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 worn out with fa-
tigue, they came toward evening to a miserable <i>rancho</i>,
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 com-
panions 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 cabin outside found their
way within and fell down in large drops 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 at-
tempt was a failure.
"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 discomforts
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 masters were suffering quite as much inside the
ruined <i>rancho</i>. 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 <i>rancho</i> 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 too much to disobey him, and set off
immediately.
THE FLOOD 131
The rain had abated, but floods of water still covered
the ground. Paganel, on consulting his map, came to the
conclusion that the <i>rios</i> Grande and Vivarota, into which
the water from the plains generally runs, must have been
united in one large bed several miles in extent.
Extreme haste was imperative, for all their lives de-
pended 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
water 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 be-
trayed symptoms of violent agitation. He kept turning
round toward the south, neighing continually, and snorting
with wide open nostrils. He reared violently, and Thal-
cave 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?" asked Paganel.
"Is he bitten by the leeches? They are very voracious in
the Argentine 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 flocks ap-
peared, rushing and tumbling over each other in the great-
est disorder, as they hurried pell-mell along with incon-
ceivable rapidity. They raised such a whirlwind of water
in their course that it was impossible to distinguish them
132 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
clearly. A hundred whales of the largest size could hardly
have dashed up the ocean waves more violently.
"<i>Anda, anda!</i>" (quick, quick), shouted Thalcave, in a
voice like thunder.
"What is it, then?" asked Paganel.
"The rising," replied Thalcave.
"He means an inundation," exclaimed Paganel, flying
with the others after Thalcave, who had spurred on his
horse toward the north.
It was high time, for about five miles south 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 race-
horse, and the travelers fled before it like a cloud before
a storm-wind. They looked in vain for some harbor of
refuge, and the terrified horses galloped so wildly along
that the riders could hardly keep their saddles.
"<i>Anda, anda!</i>" shouted Thalcave, and again they
spurred on the poor animals till the blood ran from their
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 miles off the gigantic wave reared its crested head.
For a quarter of an hour this supreme struggle with the
most terrible of elements lasted. The fugitives could not
tell how far 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 whole party, gave themselves up for lost,
as the horses were fast getting out of their depth, and six
feet of water would be enough to drown 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.
THE FLOOD 133
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, when 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 now; this
tree, so opportunely discovered, they must reach at all haz-
ards. 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 gave a smoth-
ered 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?" asked his Lord-
ship, 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
fugitives with a fearful noise. Men and animals all dis-
appeared in a whirl of foam; a liquid mass, weighing sev-
eral millions of tons, engulfed them in its seething waters.
When it had rolled on, the men reappeared on the sur-
face, and counted each other rapidly; but all the horses, ex-
cept 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," said 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 mas-
134 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
ter swimmer. The sailors took to the water like porpoises,
while Robert clung to Thaouka's mane, and was carried
along with him. The noble animal swam superbly, in-
stinctively making for the tree in a straight line.
The tree was only twenty fathoms off, and in a few min-
utes 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 trunk, 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 swim-
mers 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 sum-
mon him to his rescue.
"Are you going to forsake him, Thalcave?" asked Pag-
anel.
"I!" replied the Indian, and forthwith he plunged
down into the tumultuous waters, and came up again ten
fathoms off. A few instants afterward his arms were
round Thaouka's neck, and master and steed were drifting
together toward the misty horizon of the north.
CHAPTER XXIII
A SINGULAR ABODE
THE tree on which Glenarvan and his companions had
just found refuge, resembled a walnut-tree, having the
same glossy foliage and rounded form. In reality, how-
ever, it was the <i>ombu</i>, which grows solitarily on the Argen-
tine 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
the most tenacious manner. This was how it stood proof
against the shock of the mighty billow.
This <i>ombu</i> measured in height a hundred feet, and cov-
ered 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
A SINGULAR ABODE 135
almost perpendicularly, and supported the immense parasol
of foliage, the branches of which were so crossed and in-
tertwined and entangled, 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 hori-
zontal position above the roaring waters, into which 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 bough, and attaching them together while the sunlight
glinted here and there among the leaves, one might have
called it a complete forest instead of a solitary tree shelter-
ing 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 <i>ombu</i>, were in hundreds, comprising black-
birds, starlings, isacas, <i>hilgueros</i>, 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 Glen-
arvan. 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 <i>ombu</i> stood alone
amid the rolling waters, and trembled before them. In the
distance, drifting from south to north, carried along by the
impetuous torrent, they saw trees torn up by the roots,
twisted branches, roofs torn off, destroyed <i>ranchos</i>, planks
of sheds stolen by the deluge from <i>estancias</i>, carcasses 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 in-
visible, already caught Wilson's eye. It was Thalcave and
his faithful Thaouka.
136 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"Thalcave, Thalcave!" shouted Robert, stretching out
his hands toward the courageous Patagonian.
"He will save himself, Mr. Robert," 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
investigations aloft, and all shared his opinion with respect
to Thalcave. The only question was whether it was Thal-
cave who would 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 topmost branches were covered, for the depression of
the soil made this part of the plain a deep reservoir. Glen-
arvan's first care, consequently, 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?" said Glenarvan.
"Make our nest, of course!" replied Paganel
"Make our nest!" exclaimed Robert.
"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 <i>alforjas</i> damp, but still intact.
"Oh, McNabbs, that's just like you," exclaimed Glen-
arvan, "you think of everything even under circumstances
which would drive all out of your head."
"Since it was settled we were not going to be drowned,
I had no intention of starving of hunger."
"I should have thought of it, too," said Paganel, "but
I am so <i>distrait</i>."
"And what is in the <i>alforjas?</i>" asked Tom Austin.
"Food enough to last seven men for two days," replied
McNabbs.
A SINGULAR ABODE 137
"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
<i>terra firma</i>," 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 Paganel.
"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?" asked Glenarvan. "Our
tinder is just like wet sponge."
"We can dispense with it," replied Paganel. "We only
want a little dry moss and a ray of sunshine, and the lens
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?"
"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 moss, and had soon gathered suffi-
cient. This he laid on a bed of damp leaves, just where
the large branches began to fork out, forming a natural
hearth, where there was little fear of conflagration.
Robert and Wilson speedily reappeared, each with an
armful of dry wood, which they threw on the moss. By
the help of the lens it was easily kindled, for the sun was
blazing overhead. In order to ensure a proper draught,
Paganel stood over the hearth with his long legs straddled
out in the Arab manner. Then stooping down and raising
himself with 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 how-
ever rationing out the provisions, for the morrow had to be
thought of; the immense basin might not empty so soon as
Glenarvan expected, and, anyway, the supply was very lim-
138 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
ited. The <i>ombu</i> produced no fruit, though fortunately,
it would likely abound in fresh eggs, thanks to the numer-
ous nests stowed away among the leaves, not to speak of
their feathered proprietors. These resources were by no
means to be despised.
The next business was to install themselves as com-
fortably 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 first floor.
The house is large, and as the rent is not dear, we must
not cramp ourselves for room. I can see up yonder nat-
ural cradles, in which 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 nu-
merous enough to repulse a fleet of Indians and other wild
animals."
"We only want fire-arms."
"I have my revolvers," said Glenarvan.
"And I have mine," replied Robert.
"But what's the good of them?" said Tom Austin, "un-
less Monsieur Paganel can find out some way of making
powder."
"We don't need it," replied McNabbs, exhibiting a
powder flask in a perfect state of preservation.
"Where did you get it from, Major," asked Paganel.
"From Thalcave. He thought it might be useful to us,
and gave it to me before he plunged into the water to save
Thaouka."
"Generous, brave Indian!" exclaimed 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.
"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."
"What distance are we from the Atlantic?" asked the
Major.
"About forty miles at the outside," 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
myself up there, and by the help of my telescope, let you
know how things are going on in the world."
A SINGULAR ABODE 139
Forthwith the geographer set off, hoisting himself up
very cleverly from bough to bough, till he disappeared be-
yond 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 re-
sumed their seats round the fire to have a talk.
As usual their theme was Captain Grant. In three days,
should the water subside, they would be on board the <i>Dun-
can</i> 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, that 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."
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 lat-
itude is not a mere figure, and that it applies to the ship-
wreck or captivity of Harry Grant, is no mere guess or
supposition. We read it with our own eyes."
"All very true, your Honor," replied Tom Austin, "and
yet our search has been unsuccessful."
"It is both a provoking and hopeless business," replied
Glenarvan.
"Provoking enough, certainly," said 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."
"What do you mean?" asked Glenarvan. "What more
can we do?"
"A very logical and simple thing, my dear Edward.
When we go on board the <i>Duncan</i>, turn her beak head to
the east, and go right along the thirty-seventh parallel till
we come back to our starting point if necessary."
"Do you suppose that I have not thought of that, Mr.
McNabbs?" replied Glenarvan. "Yes, a hundred times.
But what chance is there of success? To leave the Ameri-
can continent, wouldn't it be to go away from the very
140 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
spot indicated by Harry Grant, from this very Patagonia
so distinctly named in the document."
"And would you recommence your search in the Pam-
pas, when you have the certainty that the shipwreck of the
<i>Britannia</i> neither occurred on the coasts of the Pacific nor
the Atlantic?"
Glenarvan was silent.
"And however small the chance of finding Harry Grant
by following up the given parallel, ought we not to try?"
"I don't say no," replied Glenarvan.
"And are you not of my opinion, good friends," added
the Major, addressing the sailors.
"Entirely," said Tom Austin, while Mulrady and Wil-
son gave an assenting nod.
"Listen to me, friends," said Glenarvan after a few
minutes' reflection; "and remember, Robert, this 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 son as he has been to her. I too quite
think with you that we must follow the thirty-seventh
parallel round the globe if necessary, however slight our
chance of finding him. But that is not the question we
have 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
pronounce the word.
"Well?" resumed Glenarvan, addressing himself es-
pecially to the Major.
"My dear Edward," replied McNabbs, "it would be in-
curring too great a responsibility for me to reply <i>hic et nunc</i>.
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 tell you that," said
Glenarvan.
"Let's ask him, then," replied the Major.
But the learned geographer was nowhere to be seen.
He was hidden among the thick leafage of the <i>ombu</i>, and
they must call out if they wanted him.
"Paganel, Paganel!" shouted Glenarvan.
A SINGULAR ABODE 141
"Here," replied a voice that seemed 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?"
"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-sev-
enth parallel crosses the Atlantic Ocean."
"And then?"
"It encounters Isle Tristan d'Acunha."
"Yes."
"It goes on two degrees below the Cape of Good Hope."
"And afterwards?"
"Runs across the Indian Ocean, and just 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 geogra-
pher 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 his rescue
when his long body appeared tumbling down from branch
to branch.
But was he living or dead, for his hands made no at-
tempt 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.
142 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"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 inarticu-
late with emotion. "Yes, but this was something extra-
ordinary."
"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 where he has never
been."
CHAPTER XXIV
PAGANEL'S DISCLOSURE
PROFOUND astonishment greeted these unexpected words
of the learned geographer. What could he mean? Had
he lost his sense? He spoke with such conviction, how-
ever, that all eyes turned toward Glenarvan, for Paga-
nel's affirmation was a direct answer to his question,
but Glenarvan shook his head, and said nothing, though
evidently he was not inclined to favor his friend's
views.
"Yes," began Paganel again, as soon as he had recov-
ered 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, until
about an instant ago, on the top of the tree, when I was
answering 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 <i>Aus-
tral</i> that occurs in the document is not a complete word, as
PAGANEL'S DISCLOSURE 143
we have supposed up till now, but just the root of the word
<i>Australie</i>."
"Well, that would be strange," said the Major.
"Strange!" repeated Glenarvan, shrugging his shoul-
ders; "it is simply impossible."
"Impossible?" returned Paganel. "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 docu-
ment in your hand, that the shipwreck of the <i>Britannia</i>
happened on the shores of Australia."
"I am sure of it," replied Paganel.
"My conscience," exclaimed Glenarvan, "I must say I
am surprised at such a declaration from the Secretary of a
Geographical Society!"
"And why so?" said Paganel, touched in his weak
point.
"Because, if you allow the word <i>Australie!</i> you must
also allow the word <i>Indiens</i>, and Indians are never seen
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 over me too fast. I
am going to floor you completely, and never was an Eng-
lishman more thoroughly defeated than you will be. It will
be the revenge for Cressy and Agincourt."
"I wish nothing better. Take your revenge, Paganel."
"Listen, then. In the text of the document, there is
neither mention of the Indians nor of Patagonia! The
incomplete word <i>indi</i> does not mean <i>Indiens</i>, but of course,
<i>indigenes</i>, aborigines! Now, do you admit that there are
aborigines in Australia?"
"Bravo, Paganel!" said the Major.
"Well, do you agree to my interpretation, my dear
Lord?" asked the geographer again.
"Yes," replied Glenarvan, "if you will prove to me that
the fragment of a word <i>gonie</i>, does not refer to the country
of the Patagonians."
"Certainly it does not. It has nothing to do with Pata-
gonia," said Paganel. "Read it any way you please ex-
cept that."
"How?"
144 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"<i>Cosmogonie, theogonie, agonie</i>."
"<i>Agonie</i>," 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 <i>Austral</i> means <i>Australie</i>,
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 should never have read it differently."
A burst of hurrahs, and congratulations, and compli-
ments followed Paganel's words. Austin and the sailors,
and the Major 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 Pag-
anel," 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?"
"Easily enough answered. Here is the document," re-
plied Paganel, taking out the precious paper he had been
studying so conscientiously for the last few days.
For a few minutes there was complete silence, while the
worthy <i>savant</i> took time to collect his thoughts before com-
plying with his lordship's request. Then putting his fin-
ger on the words, and emphasizing some of them, he be-
gan as follows:
"'<i>Le 7 juin</i> 1862 <i>le trois-mats Britannia de Glasgow a
sombre apres</i>,' -- put, if you please, '<i>deux jours, trois
jours</i>,' or '<i>une longue agonie</i>,' it doesn't signify, it is quite
a matter of indifference, -- '<i>sur les cotes de l'Australie.
Se dirigeant a terre, deux matelots et le Capitaine Grant
vont essayer d'aborder</i>,' or '<i>ont aborde le continent ou ils
seront</i>,' or, '<i>sont prisonniers de cruels indigenes. Ils ont
jete ce documents</i>,' etc. Is that clear?"
"Clear enough," replied Glenarvan, "if the word con-
tinent can be applied to Australia, which is only an island."
"Make yourself easy about that, my dear Glenarvan;
the best geographers have agreed to call the island the
Australian Continent."
V. IV Verne
PAGANEL'S DISCLOSURE 145
"Then all I have now to say is, my friends," said Glen-
arvan, "away to Australia, and may Heaven help us!"
"To Australia!" echoed his companions, with one voice.
"I tell you what, Paganel," added Glenarvan, "your
being on board the <i>Duncan</i> is a perfect providence."
"All right. Look on me as a messenger of providence,
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 laby-
rinth in which they had thought themselves hopelessly en-
tangled, and, amid their ruined projects, inspired them with
fresh hope. They could now quit the American Conti-
nent without the least hesitation, and already their thoughts
had flown to the Australias. In going on board the <i>Dun-
can</i> again they would not bring despair with them, and
Lady Helena and Mary Grant would not have to mourn
the irrevocable loss of Captain Grant. This thought so
filled them with joy that they forgot all the dangers of
their actual situation, and only regretted that they could
not start 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
materials were very scanty, he proposed to Robert to go
and hunt in the neighboring forest. Robert clapped his
hands at the idea, so they took Thalcave's powder flask,
cleaned the revolvers and loaded them with small shot, and
set off.
"Don't go too far," said the Major, gravely, to the two
hunters.
After their departure, Glenarvan and McNabbs went
down to examine the state of the water by looking at the
notches they had made on the tree, and Wilson and Mul-
rady replenished the fire.
No sign of decrease appeared on the surface of the im-
mense lake, yet the flood seemed to have reached its maxi-
mum height; but the violence with which it rushed from
the south to north proved that the equilibrium of the Ar-
gentine rivers was not restored. Before getting lower the
liquid mass must remain stationary, as in the case with
the ocean before the ebb tide commences.
146 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
While Glenarvan and his cousin were making these ob-
servations, 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 peals 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 culin-
ary art might be expected. Wilson had a good idea to
begin with, which he had skilfully carried out; for when
Glenarvan came back to the brasier, he found that the
brave fellow had actually managed to catch, with only a
pin and a piece of string, several dozen small fish, as deli-
cate as smelts, called <i>mojarras</i>, 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 carefully 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 <i>hilgueros</i>, 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 once 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
<i>mojarras</i>, sparrows, and roast <i>hilgueros</i>, made one of those
gala feasts the memory of which is imperishable.
The conversation was very animated. Many compli-
ments were paid Paganel on his twofold talents as hunter
and cook, which the <i>savant</i> accepted with the modesty
which characterizes true merit. Then he turned the con-
versation on the peculiarities of the <i>ombu</i>, under whose
canopy they had found shelter, and whose depths he de-
clared were immense.
"Robert and I," he added, jestingly, "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
PAGANEL'S DISCLOSURE 147
with the roar of wild beasts. No, not that; there are no
wild beasts here, 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 Major, "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 companions 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 malevolent as they
are useless."
"You would have done that?" asked Paganel.
"Yes, I would."
"Well, you would have done wrong in a zoölogical point
of view," returned Paganel.
"But not in a humanitarian one," rejoined the Major.
"It is shocking!" replied Paganel. "Why, for my
part, on the contrary, I should have taken special care to
preserve megatheriums and pterodactyles, and all the ante-
diluvian 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," retorted Paganel,
"and he has justly merited the malediction of <i>savants</i> to
the end of time!"
The rest of the party could not help laughing at hearing
the two friends disputing over old Noah. Contrary to all
his principles, the Major, who all his life had never dis-
puted with anyone, was always sparring with Paganel.
148 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 animals 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 aërial
forest."
"Why not?" asked the geographer.
"Wild beasts on a tree!" exclaimed 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, sur-
prised by the inundation, might have climbed up into this
<i>ombu</i>, and be hiding now among its thick foliage."
"You haven't met any of them, at any rate, I suppose?"
said the Major.
"No," replied Paganel, "though we hunted all through
the wood. It is vexing, for it would have been a splendid
chase. A jaguar is a bloodthirsty, ferocious creature. He
can twist the neck of a horse with a single stroke of his
paw. When he has once tasted human flesh he scents 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," 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 chief 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 the conversa-
tion. "You are complaining of your lot, Glenarvan."
"I should think so, indeed," replied Glenarvan. "Do
PAGANEL'S DISCLOSURE 149
you find these uncomfortable hard branches very luxu-
rious?"
"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."
"But they want wings," suggested the Major.
"They'll make them some day."
"And till then," put in Glenarvan, "with your leave, I
prefer the gravel of a park, or the floor of a house, or the
deck of a ship, to this aërial dwelling."
"We must take things as they come, Glenarvan," re-
turned 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 perfectly happy," inter-
rupted Paganel, eager to insure one partisan at least.
"Yes, that I am!" exclaimed Robert, 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 <i>savant</i>, "I'm not; but if
you like, I'll tell you a little Arabian story that comes into
my mind, very <i>apropos</i> 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 thing 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.' Where-
upon the Prince embraced the old man, and set out at once
to search for his talisman. He visited all the capital cities
150 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
in the world. He tried on the shirts of kings, and em-
perors, 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 long
way, without finding what he sought. At last he began to
despair of success, 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, 'Surely 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.' 'My shirt! I haven't
one!'"
CHAPTER XXV
BETWEEN FIRE AND WATER
BEFORE turning into "their nest," as Paganel had called
it, he, and Robert, and Glenarvan climbed up into the ob-
servatory to have one more inspection of the liquid plain.
It was about nine o'clock; the sun had just sunk behind
the glowing mists 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 overspread. Evidently mo-
tive power lay in the cloud itself, for there was not a
breath of wind. Absolute calm reigned in the atmosphere;
not a leaf stirred on the tree, not a ripple 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 you, Robert?"
asked Glenarvan.
"No, my Lord!" exclaimed Robert.
BETWEEN FIRE AND WATER 151
"Well, my boy, so 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," said Glenarvan, "so
much as the torrents of rain that will accompany it. We
shall be soaked to the skin. Whatever you may say, Pag-
anel, a nest won't do for a man, and you will learn 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 their
philosophy and their ponchos as tightly as possible, and
above all, to lay in a stock of patience, for we shall need it
before very long."
Glenarvan gave a last glance at the angry sky. The
clouds now covered it entirely; only a dim streak of light
shone faintly in the west. A dark shadow lay on the
water, and it could 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, they found them-
selves, to their great surprise, in a sort of dim twilight, pro-
duced by myriads of luminous specks which appeared buz-
zing confusedly over the surface of the water.
"It is phosphorescence, I suppose," said Glenarvan.
"No, but phosphorescent insects, positive glow-worms,
living diamonds, which the ladies of Buenos Ayres con-
vert into 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
<i>coleoptera</i> sheds its radiance from two spots in the front
of its breast-plate, and the light is sufficient to read by.
152 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
Holding his watch close to the insect, Paganel saw dis-
tinctly that the time was 10 P. M.
On rejoining the Major and his three sailors, Glenarvan
warned them of the approaching storm, and advised them to
secure themselves in their beds of branches as firmly as
possible, for there was no doubt that after the first clap
of thunder the wind would become unchained, and the
<i>ombu</i> would be violently shaken. Though they could not
defend themselves from 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 poncho and lay down to sleep.
But the approach of the great phenomena of nature ex-
cites vague uneasiness in the heart of every sentient being,
even in the most strong-minded. The whole party in the
<i>ombu</i> 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
like a distant rolling. Glenarvan ventured to creep out
of the sheltering foliage, and made his way to the ex-
tremity 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
water with unerring exactness. The clouds had rent in
many parts, but noiselessly, like some soft cotton material.
After attentively observing both the 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 earnest, 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," 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 occurred to my
memory, that make me hope it will, for we are in the re-
gion of great electrical tempests. For instance, I have
read somewhere, that in 1793, in this very province of
Buenos Ayres, lightning struck thirty-seven times during
BETWEEN FIRE AND WATER 153
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,"
added Paganel, "if it is any use to be uneasy, and that
is, that the culminating point of this plain, is just this
very <i>ombu</i> 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 tell us never to take ref-
uge under trees during a storm."
"Most seasonable advice, certainly, in our circum-
stances," said the Major.
"I must confess, Paganel," replied Glenarvan, "that you
might have chosen a better time for this reassuring infor-
mation."
"Bah!" replied Paganel, "all times are good for get-
ting 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 <i>savant</i> to the highest degree,
for though Arago, in his curious statistics, 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 seemed supported
by a phosphoric band of intense brilliancy. This kept in-
creasing by degrees till it overspread the entire horizon,
kindling the clouds which were faithfully mirrored in the
waters as if they were masses of combustible material,
beneath, and presented the appearance of an immense
globe of fire, the center of which was the <i>ombu</i>.
Glenarvan and his companions gazed silently 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,
154 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 the wind
had not risen in the least. But this state of things was of
short 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 <i>finale</i> 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 struggle 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 for a few seconds, burst like a bomb-
shell, and with so much noise that the explosion was dis-
tinctly audible above the general <i>fracas</i>. 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
<i>ombu;</i> the dead wood and nests of dried grass, and the
whole sap, which was of a spongy texture, supplied food
for its devouring activity.
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
untouched by the fire. They were all silent, troubled, and
terrified, 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 along on the rapid current. The
flames sometimes rose to a prodigious height, and seemed
almost lost in the atmosphere, and sometimes, beaten down
by the hurricane, closely enveloped the <i>ombu</i> like a robe of
Nessus. Terror seized the entire group. They were al-
most suffocated with smoke, and scorched with the un-
BETWEEN FIRE AND WATER 155
bearable heat, for the conflagration had already reached
the lower branches on their side of the <i>ombu</i>. To extin-
guish it or check its progress was impossible; and they
saw themselves irrevocably condemned 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 Glenarvan.
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
Paganel, as the ferocious species peculiar to America, called
<i>Caimans</i> in the Spanish territories. About ten of them
were there, lashing the water with their powerful tails, and
attacking the <i>ombu</i> 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, since
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 deliverance to implore from Heaven.
The violence of the storm had abated, but it had devel-
oped in the atmosphere a considerable quantity of vapors,
to which electricity was about to communicate immense
force. An enormous water-spout was gradually forming
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 forward, turning over and over on itself
156 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
with dizzy rapidity, and sweeping up into its center a col-
umn 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 <i>ombu</i>, and caught it up in its whirl. The
tree shook to its roots. Glenarvan could fancy the cai-
mans' teeth were tearing it up from the soil; for as he and
his companions held on, each clinging firmly to the other,
they felt the towering <i>ombu</i> 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 work elsewhere. It
seemed to empty the lake in its passage, by continually
drawing up the water into itself.
The <i>ombu</i> now began to drift rapidly along, impelled by
wind and current. All the caimans had taken their de-
parture, except one that was crawling over the upturned
roots, and coming toward the poor refugees with wide 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 <i>saurians</i>, stationed themselves on the branches
windward of the conflagration, while the <i>ombu</i> sailed along
like a blazing fire-ship through the dark night, the flames
spreading themselves round like sails before the breath
of the hurricane.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE RETURN ON BOARD
FOR two hours the <i>ombu</i> navigated the immense lake
without reaching <i>terra firma</i>. The flames which were de-
vouring it had gradually died out. The chief danger of
their frightful passage was thus removed, and the Major
went the length of saying, that he should not be surprised
if they were saved after all.
The direction of the current remained unchanged, al-
ways running from southwest to northeast. Profound
THE RETURN ON BOARD 157
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 <i>ombu</i> was borne onward so rapidly by the impetu-
ous 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 for
days. About three o'clock in the morning, however, the
Major noticed that the roots were beginning to graze the
ground occasionally, and by sounding the depth of the
water with a long branch, Tom Austin found that they
were getting on rising ground. Twenty minutes after-
ward, the <i>ombu</i> stopped short with a violent jolt.
"Land! land!" shouted Paganel, in a ringing tone.
The extremity of the calcined bough had struck 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-known
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 with one voice.
"Amigos!" replied the Patagonian, who had been wait-
ing for the travelers here in the same place where the cur-
rent had landed himself.
As he spoke he lifted up Robert in his arms, and hugged
him to his breast, never imagining that Paganel was hang-
ing on to him. A general and hearty hand-shaking fol-
lowed, and everyone rejoiced at seeing their faithful guide
again. Then the Patagonian led the way into the <i>hangar</i>
of a deserted <i>estancia</i>, where there was a good, blazing fire
to warm them, and a substantial 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
through 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 deliver-
158 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
ance 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 confi-
dent, and that was enough for him.
As can easily be imagined, after their compulsory rest
on the <i>ombu</i>, the travelers were up betimes and ready to
start. At eight o'clock they set off. No means of trans-
port being procurable 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 even 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 to 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 quite 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 distant, the proximity
of the ocean was sensibly felt. The <i>virazon</i>, a peculiar
wind, which blows regularly half of the day and night,
bent down the heads of the tall grasses. Thinly planted
woods rose to view, and small tree-like mimosas, bushes of
acacia, and tufts of <i>curra-mantel</i>. Here and there, shin-
ing like pieces of broken glass, were salinous lagoons, which
increased the difficulty of the journey as the travelers had
to wind round them to get past. They pushed on as
quickly as possible, hoping 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 hun-
dred 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 with surprising agility.
But it was getting quite dark already, and their eager gaze
could discover no traces of the <i>Duncan</i> on the gloomy
expanse of water that met their sight.
THE RETURN ON BOARD 159
"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.
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, supposing the <i>Dun-
can</i> 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-banks 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 aground there are invariably
dashed to pieces.
Though, then, the <i>Duncan</i> would keep far away from
such a coast, John Mangles is a prudent captain to get
near. Tom Austin, however, was of the opinion that
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
dissipating 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 en-
campment beneath the shelter of the sand-hills; the last pro-
visions 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 its equilibrium
after the recent storm. The waves, at all times tumultu-
ous, now broke over the sand-banks with a noise like thun-
der. Glenarvan could not rest, knowing the <i>Duncan</i> was
so near him. As to supposing she had not arrived at the
appointed rendezvous, that was out of the question. Glen-
arvan had left the Bay of Talcahuano on the 14th of Octo-
ber, and arrived on the shores of the Atlantic on the 12th
of November. He had taken thirty days to cross Chili,
160 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
the Cordilleras, the Pampas, and the Argentine plains, giv-
ing the <i>Duncan</i> ample time to double Cape Horn, and ar-
rive 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 battlefield as the Atlantic, but the yacht was a good
ship, and the captain 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 Mal-
colm Castle felt the 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 <i>Duncan!</i> Oh! why
can't I see in the dark?"
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 sound 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, rubbing them vigorously.
"Yes, I need your eyes to make out the <i>Duncan</i> 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, and 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."
V. IV Verne
THE RETURN ON BOARD 161
"Look for a red light or a green one -- her larboard or
starboard light."
"I see neither a red nor a green light, all is pitch dark,"
replied Paganel, his eyes involuntarily beginning to close.
For half an hour he followed his impatient friend, me-
chanically letting his head frequently drop on his chest,
and raising it again with a start. At last he neither an-
swered 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, hur-
rah!" as Lord Glenarvan's loud cry, "The <i>Duncan</i>, the
<i>Duncan!</i>" 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 telescope, closely ob-
served the movements of the yacht. It was evident that
John Mangles had not perceived his passengers, for he
continued 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 signal of recognition was returned. A second and a
third time the Indian 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
cannon of the <i>Duncan</i>."
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, and the steam got up, so as to get
as near the coast as possible.
Presently, through the glass, they saw a boat lowered.
"Lady Helena will not be able to come," said Tom
Austin. "It is too rough."
"Nor John Mangles," added McNabbs; "he cannot
leave the ship."
162 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"My sister, my sister!" cried Robert, stretching out
his arms toward the yacht, which was now rolling vio-
lently.
"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 Tha-
ouka, with his arms crossed, looking quietly at the troubled
waves.
Glenarvan took his hand, and pointing to the yacht, said:
"Come!"
The Indian gently shook his head.
"Come, friend," repeated Glenarvan.
"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 at-
tachment of these sons of the desert for their native land.
He did not urge Thalcave longer, therefore, but simply
pressed his hand. Nor could he find it in his heart to in-
sist, when the Indian, smiling as usual, would not accept
the price 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 European
friends. What was there to give, however? Arms,
horses, everything had been destroyed in the unfortunate
inundation, 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, when a happy
thought struck him. He had an exquisite portrait of Lady
Helena in his pocket, a <i>chef-d'oeuvre</i> 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, and the rest,
THE RETURN ON BOARD 163
exchanged touching farewells with the faithful Patago-
nian. Thalcave embraced them each, and pressed them to
his broad chest. Paganel made him accept a map of South
America and the two oceans, which he had often seen the
Indian looking at with interest. It was the most precious
thing the geographer possessed. As for Robert, he had
only caresses to bestow, and these he lavished on his friend,
not forgetting to give a share to Thaouka.
The boat from the <i>Duncan</i> 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 waiting for you on
board," replied the coxswain; "but lose no time your
honor, we have not a minute, for the tide is beginning to
ebb already."
The last kindly adieux were spoken, and Thalcave ac-
companied 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
out.
"<i>Quien sabe?</i>" (Who knows?) replied Thalcave, lift-
ing 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 <i>silhouette</i> stood out
against the sky, through the white, dashing spray of the
waves. Then by degrees his tall form began to diminish
in size, till at last his friends of a day lost sight of him al-
together.
An hour afterward Robert was the first to leap on board
the <i>Duncan</i>. He flung his arms round Mary's neck, amid
the loud, joyous hurrahs of the crew on the yacht.
Thus the journey across South America was accom-
plished, the given line of march being scrupulously adhered
to throughout.
164 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
Neither mountains nor rivers had made the travelers
change their course; and though they had not had to en-
counter any 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
<b>In Search of the Castaways</b>
or
The Children of Captain Grant
<b>Australia</b>
[page intentionally blank]
<b>In Search of the Castaways
Australia</b>
CHAPTER I
A NEW DESTINATION
FOR the first few moments the joy of reunion
completely filled the hearts. Lord Glenarvan
had taken care that the ill-success of their ex-
pedition should not throw a gloom 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!"
Only such an assurance as this would have restored hope
to those on board the <i>Duncan</i>. 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 number of its passengers. Alternate hope
and fear agitated the bosom of poor Mary. Sometimes
she fancied she could see her father, Harry Grant, 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 sup-
port her, but the captain, John Mangles, who stood close
beside them spoke no encouraging word, for his practiced
eye saw plainly that the captain was not there.
"He is there! He is coming! Oh, father!" exclaimed
the young girl. But as the boat came nearer, her illusion
was dispelled; all hope forsook her, and she would
have sunk 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. His Lordship also spoke in the most
eulogistic terms of Robert, of whom Mary might well
167
168 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
be proud. His courage and devotion, and the dangers he
had run, were all shown up in strong relief by his pat-
ron, 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
conduct has been worthy of your name." And he leaned
over the boy and pressed his lips on his cheek, still wet with
Mary's tears.
The Major and Paganel, it need hardly be said, came in
for their due share of welcome, and Lady Helena only re-
gretted she could not shake hands with the brave and gener-
ous Thalcave. McNabbs soon slipped away to his cabin,
and began to shave himself as coolly and composedly as pos-
sible; while Paganel flew here and there, like a bee sipping
the sweets of compliments and smiles. He wanted to em-
brace 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 at-
tention by announcing that breakfast was ready.
"Breakfast!" exclaimed Paganel.
"Yes, Monsieur Paganel."
"A real breakfast, on a real table, with a cloth and nap-
kins?"
"Certainly, Monsieur Paganel."
"And we shall neither have <i>charqui</i>, nor 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 been
our usual bill of fare, and when we dined we stretched
ourselves full length on the ground, unless we sat astride
on the trees. Consequently, the meal you have just an-
nounced seemed to me like a dream, or fiction, or chimera."
"Well, Monsieur Paganel, come along and let us prove
its reality," said Lady Helena, who could not help laugh-
ing.
"Take my arm," replied the gallant geographer.
"Has his Lordship any orders to give me about the
<i>Duncan?</i>" asked John Mangles.
"After breakfast, John," replied Glenarvan, "we'll dis-
cuss the program of our new expedition <i>en famille</i>."
A NEW DESTINATION 169
M. Olbinett's breakfast seemed quite a <i>fête</i> to the hungry
guests. It was pronounced excellent, and even superior
to the festivities of the Pampas. Paganel was helped
twice to each dish, 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 protested on his honor
that he would never be caught tripping again once more
during the whole voyage. After this prelude, he gave an
amusing recital of his disastrous mistake in learning
Spanish, and his profound study of Camoens. "After
all," he added, "it's an ill wind that blows nobody good,
and I don't regret the mistake."
"Why not, my worthy friend?" asked 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 Mc-
Nabbs. "My compliments, Paganel -- my sincere compli-
ments."
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 Helena
told him, moreover, how affairs stood, and inspired him
with affectionate sympathy for the young lovers; but noth-
ing 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 was 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, unless you have the
gift of ubiquity you can't be in two places at once. While
170 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
you were scouring the pampas you could not be doubling
Cape Horn."
"That doesn't prevent my regretting it," replied Paga-
nel.
Here the subject dropped, and John continued his ac-
count of his voyage. On arriving at Cape Pilares he had
found the 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 expedition 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 through-
out the whole hurricane. They had not shown the least
fear, unless for their friends, who might possibly be ex-
posed to the fury of the tempest."
After John Mangles had finished his narrative, Glenar-
van 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."
"How could I be?" replied Mary naively, looking at
Lady Helena, and at the young captain too, likely enough.
"Oh, my sister is very fond of you, Mr. John, and so
am I," exclaimed Robert.
"And so am I of you, my dear boy," returned the cap-
tain, a little abashed by Robert's innocent avowal, which
had kindled a faint blush on Mary's cheek. Then he
managed to turn the conversation to safer topics by say-
ing: "And now that your Lordship has heard all about
the doings of the <i>Duncan</i>, perhaps you will give us some
details of your own journey, and tell us more about the ex-
ploits of our young hero."
Nothing could be more agreeable than such a recital to
Lady Helena and Mary Grant; and accordingly Lord Glen-
arvan hastened to satisfy their curiosity -- going over in-
A NEW DESTINATION 171
cident by incident, the entire march from one ocean to an-
other, the pass of the Andes, the earthquake, the disap-
pearance of Robert, his capture by the condor, Thalcave's
providential shot, the episode of the red wolves, the devo-
tion 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 think of the present.
The past is gone, but the future is ours. 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 mat-
ter 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 certainty, that the shipwreck never oc-
curred on the shores of the Atlantic nor Pacific. The
natural inference is that, as far as regards Patagonia, our
interpretation of the document was erroneous. Most for-
tunately, our friend Paganel, in a happy moment of inspira-
tion, discovered the mistake. He has proved clearly that
we have been on the wrong track, and so explained the
document that all doubt whatever is removed from our
minds. However, as the document is in French, I will
ask Paganel to go over it for your benefit."
The learned geographer, thus called upon, executed his
task in the most convincing manner, descanting on the
syllables <i>gonie</i> and <i>indi</i>, and extracting <i>Australia</i> out of
<i>austral</i>. He pointed out that Captain Grant, on leaving
the coast of Peru to return to Europe, might have been
carried away with his disabled ship by the southern cur-
rents of the Pacific right to the shores of Australia, and
his hypotheses were so ingenious and his deductions so
172 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
subtle that even the matter-of-fact John Mangles, a diffi-
cult judge, and most unlikely to be led away by any flights
of imagination, was completely satisfied.
At the conclusion of Paganel's dissertation, Glenarvan
announced that the <i>Duncan</i> 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 con-
sider them wise and weighty, 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 sub-
mitted 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 these same
documents, and their interpretation then appeared quite
plain. No other coast but the western coast of Patagonia
could possibly, we thought, have been the scene of the ship-
wreck. We had not even the shadow of a doubt on the
subject."
"That's true," replied Glenarvan.
"A little later," continued the Major, "when a provi-
dential fit of absence of mind came over Paganel, and
brought him on board the yacht, the documents were sub-
mitted to him and he approved our plan of search most
unreservedly."
"I do not deny it," said Paganel.
"And yet we were mistaken," resumed 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?" asked Glenarvan.
"A confession, nothing more. A confession that Aus-
tralia now as evidently appears to be the theater of the
shipwreck of the <i>Britannia</i> as America did before."
A NEW DESTINATION 173
"We confess it willingly," replied Paganel.
"Very well, then, since that is the case, my advice is
not to let your imagination rely on successive and contra-
dictory evidence. Who knows whether after Australia
some other country may not appear with equal certainty to
be the place, 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
examination of the documents. Here they are, and here
are the charts. Let us take up each point in succession
through which the 37th parallel passes, and see if we come
across any other country which would agree with the pre-
cise indications of the document."
"Nothing can be more easily and quickly done," replied
Paganel; "for countries are not very numerous in this lati-
tude, happily."
"Well, look," said the Major, displaying an English
planisphere on the plan of Mercator's Chart, and present-
ing 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 geogra-
pher, "after having crossed South America, the 37th de-
gree 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 leav-
ing 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 as 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,
French, English or German, could apply to this group in
the Indian Ocean.
"Now we come to Australia," continued Paganel.
174 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"The 37th parallel touches this continent at Cape Ber-
nouilli, and leaves it at Twofold Bay. You will agree
with me that, without straining the text, the English word
<i>stra</i> and the French one <i>Austral</i> may relate to Australia.
The thing is too plain to need proof."
The conclusion of Paganel met with unanimous ap-
proval; every probability was in his favor.
"And where is the next point?" asked McNabbs.
"That is easily answered. After leaving Twofold Bay,
we cross an arm of the sea which extends to New Zealand.
Here I must call your attention to the fact that the French
word <i>contin</i> means a continent, irrefragably. Captain
Grant could not, then, have found refuge in New Zealand,
which is only an island. However that may be though,
examine 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 John Mangles, after a
minute investigation of the documents and the planisphere.
"No," chimed in all the rest, and even the Major him-
self, "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 which there is not a single trace in either of the
three documents."
"Not the slightest," said Glenarvan.
"I leave you, then, my friends, to decide 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 Glenarvan, "the next question
is, have you provisions and coal enough?"
"Yes, your honor, I took in an ample store at Talca-
huano, and, besides, we can easily replenish our stock of
coal at Cape Town."
"Well, then, give orders."
"Let me make one more observation," interrupted
McNabbs.
A NEW DESTINATION 173
"Go on then."
"Whatever likelihood of success Australia 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 not take us the least out of the way. Then
we should be able to ascertain if the <i>Britannia</i> 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 re-
trace our steps, supposing that Australia should disappoint
our sanguine hopes."
"It seems to me a good precaution," replied Glenarvan.
"And I'm not the one to dissuade you from it," re-
turned Paganel; "quite the contrary."
"Steer straight for Tristan d'Acunha."
"Immediately, your Honor," replied the captain, going
on deck, while Robert and Mary Grant overwhelmed Lord
Glenarvan with their grateful thanks.
Shortly after, the <i>Duncan</i> had left the American coast,
and was running eastward, her sharp keel rapidly cutting
her way through the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.
CHAPTER II
TRISTAN D'ACUNHA AND THE ISLE OF AMSTERDAM
IF the yacht had followed the line of the equator, the
196 degrees which separate Australia from America, or,
more correctly, Cape Bernouilli from Cape Corrientes,
would have been equal to 11,760 geographical miles; but
along the 37th parallel these same degrees, owing to the
form of the earth, only represent 9,480 miles. From the
American coast to Tristan d'Acunha is reckoned 2,100
miles -- a distance which John Mangles hoped to clear 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 <i>Duncan</i> a fair field on a calm sea 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
176 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
absent a whole month. Instead of the Pacific, the Atlantic
stretched itself out before them, and there was scarcely
a shade of difference in the waves of the two oceans.
The elements, after having handled them so roughly,
seemed now disposed to favor them to the utmost. The
sea was tranquil, and the wind kept in the right quarter,
so that the yacht could spread all her canvas, and lend its
aid, if needed to the indefatigable steam stored up in the
boiler.
Under such conditions, the voyage was safely and
rapidly accomplished. Their confidence increased as they
found themselves nearer the Australian coast. They be-
gan to talk of Captain Grant 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 <i>number six</i>, which Paganel had taken possession
of instead of the one he had booked on the <i>Scotia</i>. It had
been till now occupied by M. Olbinett, who vacated it for
the expected guest. Mary took great delight in arranging
it with her own hands, and adorning it for the reception
of the loved inmate.
The learned geographer kept himself closely shut up.
He was working away from morning till night at a work
entitled "Sublime Impressions of a Geographer in the Ar-
gentine Pampas," and they could hear him repeating ele-
gant 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 Australian, 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 re-
mained silent, it was best to take no notice of it.
V. IV Verne
THE ISLE OF AMSTERDAM 177
"What will Captain Grant think?" Lord Glenarvan
asked 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, and the
<i>Duncan</i> might almost have dispensed with her screw al-
together, for she flew over the water like a bird, spreading
all her sails to catch the breeze, as if she were running a
race with the Royal Thames Club yachts.
Next day, the ocean appeared covered with immense sea-
weeds, looking like a great pond choked up with the <i>débris</i>
of trees and plants torn off the neighboring continents.
Commander Murray had specially pointed them out to the
attention of navigators. The <i>Duncan</i> appeared to glide
over a long prairie, which Paganel justly compared to the
Pampas, and her speed slackened a little.
Twenty-four hours after, at break of day, the man on
the look-out was heard calling out, "Land ahead!"
"In what direction?" asked Tom Austin, who was on
watch.
"Leeward!" was the reply.
This exciting cry brought everyone speedily 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 re-
sembled 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 thou-
sand 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 the rocky mass, at the
summit of a triangle inclining toward the northeast.
Tristan d'Acunha is situated in 37° 8' of southern lati-
178 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
tude, and 10° 44' of longitude west of the meridian at
Greenwich. Inaccessible Island is eighteen miles to the
southwest and Nightingale Island is ten miles to the south-
east, and this completes the little solitary group of islets in
the Atlantic Ocean. Toward noon, the two principal land-
marks, by which the group is recognized were sighted, and
at 3 P. M. the <i>Duncan</i> 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 ani-
mals.
John Mangle's first care was to find good anchorage, and
then all the passengers, both ladies and gentlemen, got into
the long boat and were rowed ashore. They stepped out
on a beach covered with fine black sand, the impalpable
<i>débris</i> of the calcined rocks of the island.
Tristan d'Acunha is the capital of the group, and con-
sists 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 geometrical
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 Harry Grant and the <i>Britannia</i>, and found the
names entirely unknown. The Tristan d'Acunha Isles are
out of the route of ships, and consequently little fre-
quented. Since the wreck of the <i>Blendon Hall</i> in 1821, on
the rocks of Inaccessible Island, two vessels have stranded
on the chief island -- the <i>Primanguet</i> in 1845, and the three-
mast American, <i>Philadelphia</i>, 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 informa-
tion, and only asked by the way of duty. He even sent
the boats to make the circuit of the island, the entire ex-
tent 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 con-
sists of English and Americans, married to negroes and
THE ISLE OF AMSTERDAM 179
Cape Hottentots, who might bear away the palm for ugli-
ness. The children of these heterogeneous households are
very disagreeable compounds of Saxon stiffness and Afri-
can blackness.
It was nearly nightfall before the party returned to
the yacht, chattering and admiring the natural riches dis-
played 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 en-
virons of the village, herds of cattle and sheep were feed-
ing.
The boats returned to the <i>Duncan</i> about the same time
as Lord Glenarvan. They had made the circuit of the en-
tire island in a few hours, but without coming across the
least trace of the <i>Britannia</i>. The only result of this voy-
age of circumnavigation was to strike out the name of
Isle Tristan from the program of search.
CHAPTER III
CAPE TOWN AND M. VIOT
As John Mangles intended to put in at the Cape of Good
Hope for coals, he was obliged to deviate a little from the
37th parallel, and go two degrees north. In less than six
days he cleared the thirteen hundred miles which separate
the point of Africa from Tristan d'Acunha, 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 there is a dis-
tance 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
journey across the Pampas -- air and water seemed in
league to help them forward.
"Ah! the sea! the sea!" exclaimed Paganel, "it is the
field <i>par excellence</i> for the exercise of human energies, 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,
180 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
even in this nineteenth century. See how it is in the in-
terior 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 ven-
ture; the most daring shrinks back, the most courageous suc-
cumbs. They cannot penetrate them; the means of trans-
port are insufficient, and the heat and disease, and savage
disposition of the natives, are impassable obstacles. Twenty
miles of desert separate men more than five hundred miles
of ocean."
Paganel spoke with such warmth that even the Major
had nothing to say against this panegyric of the ocean.
Indeed, if the finding of Harry Grant had involved fol-
lowing 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 an-
other, and on the 6th of December, at the first streak of
day, they saw a fresh mountain apparently emerging from
the bosom of the waves.
This was Amsterdam Island, situated in 37 degrees 47
minutes latitude and 77 degrees 24 minutes longitude, the
high cone of which in clear weather is visible fifty miles
off. At eight o'clock, its form, indistinct though 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'Acunha, Amsterdam Island is equally rich
in seals and Robinsons."
"There are Robinsons everywhere, then?" said Lady
Helena.
"Indeed, Madam," replied Paganel, "I know few is-
lands 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."
CAPE TOWN AND M. VIOT 181
"Well, then, I want to know if you would 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."
"I don't pretend it is that, but still, 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 mon-
key? 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
happy on a desert island?"
"I do not. Man is made for society and not for soli-
tude, and solitude can only engender despair. It is a ques-
tion of time. 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 lit-
tle island is all his world. The whole human race is shut
up in himself, and when death comes, which utter loneli-
ness will make terrible, he will be like the last man on the
182 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
last day 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 ad-
vantages and disadvantages of Isolation, till the very mo-
ment the <i>Duncan</i> dropped anchor about a mile off Amster-
dam Island.
This lonely group in the Indian Ocean consists of two
distinct islands, thirty-three miles apart, and situated ex-
actly on the meridian of the Indian peninsula. To the
north is Amsterdam Island, and to the south St. Paul; but
they have been often confounded by geographers and navi-
gators.
At the time of the <i>Duncan's</i> visit to the island, the popu-
lation consisted of three people, a Frenchman and two mu-
lattoes, all three employed by the merchant proprietor.
Paganel was delighted to shake hands with a countryman
in the person of good old Monsieur Viot. He was far
advanced in years, but did the honors of the place with
much politeness. It was a happy day for him when these
kindly 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 pen-
guins. 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 century, Amsterdam
Island became the country of deserted sailors, providen-
tially 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 from 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 <i>Britannia</i> and Cap-
tain 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.
CAPE TOWN AND M. VIOT 183
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 their voyage
next day.
They rambled about the island till evening, as its ap-
pearance was very inviting. Its <i>fauna</i> and <i>flora</i>, however,
were poor in the extreme. The only specimens of quadru-
peds, birds, fish and cetacea were a few wild boars, stormy
petrels, albatrosses, perch and seals. Here and there
thermal springs and chalybeate waters escaped from the
black lava, and thin dark vapors rose above the volcanic
soil. Some of these springs were very hot. John Man-
gles 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 bless-
ing on their expedition.
CHAPTER IV
A WAGER AND HOW DECIDED
ON the 7th of December, at three A. M., the <i>Duncan</i> lay
puffing out her smoke in the little harbor ready to start,
and a few minutes afterward the anchor was lifted, and the
screw set in motion. By eight o'clock, when the passen-
gers came on deck, the Amsterdam Island had almost dis-
appeared from view behind the mists of the horizon. This
was the last halting-place on the route, and nothing now
was between them and the Australian coast but three thou-
sand miles' distance. Should the west wind continue but a
dozen days longer, and the sea remain favorable, the yacht
would have reached the end of her voyage.
Mary Grant and her brother could not gaze without
emotion at the waves through which the <i>Duncan</i> was speed-
ing her course, when they thought that these very same
184 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
waves must have dashed against the prow of the <i>Britannia</i>
but a few days before her shipwreck. Here, perhaps, Cap-
tain Grant, with a disabled ship and diminished crew, had
struggled against the tremendous hurricanes of the Indian
Ocean, and felt himself driven toward the coast with irre-
sistible force. The Captain pointed out to Mary the differ-
ent currents on the ship's chart, and explained to her their
constant direction. Among others there was one running
straight to the Australian continent, and its action is equally
felt in the Atlantic and Pacific. It was doubtless against
this that the <i>Britannia</i>, dismasted and rudderless, had been
unable to contend, and consequently 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 the <i>Mercantile and
Shipping Gazette</i>. "How then was it possible that on the
7th of June, only eight days after leaving the shores of
Peru, that the <i>Britannia</i> could have found herself in the
Indian Ocean? But to this, Paganel, who was consulted
on the subject, found a very plausible solution.
It was one evening, about six days after their 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 remained
silent, simply shrugging his shoulders, as if ashamed 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?" said John Man-
gles.
"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 this document, sup-
A WAGER AND HOW DECIDED 185
pose that one figure has been destroyed by the sea-water,
and read '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," said Glenarvan.
"Thanks to our friend, all that remains to be done now
is to get to Australia, and look out for traces of the wreck
on the western coast."
"Or the eastern?" said John Mangles.
"Indeed, John, you may be right, for there is nothing
in the document to indicate which shore was the scene of
the 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 the east of Australia, he would almost immediately
have found refuge and assistance. The whole of that
coast is English, we might say, peopled with colonists.
The crew of the <i>Britannia</i> could not have gone ten miles
without meeting a fellow-countryman."
"I am quite of your opinion, Captain John," said Paga-
nel. "On the eastern coast Harry Grant would not only
have found an English colony easily, but he would cer-
tainly 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 Ade-
laide. If the <i>Britannia</i> 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 there, 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 Aus-
tralian continent after his shipwreck?"
186 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"No, Monsieur Paganel."
"Well, granting that, what became of him? The sup-
positions we might make are not numerous. They are
confined to three. Either Harry Grant and his compan-
ions 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 colonies,
or long ago he would have been back with his children in
the good 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 Cap-
tain 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 and
uncivilized, but they are mild and gentle in disposition, and
not sanguinary like their New Zealand neighbors. Though
they may be prisoners, their lives have never been threat-
ened, you may be sure. All travelers are unanimous in
declaring that the Australian natives abhor shedding blood,
and many a time they have found in them faithful allies
in repelling the attacks of evil-disposed convicts far more
cruelly inclined."
"You hear what Monsieur Paganel tells us, Mary," said
Lady Helena turning to the young girl. "If your father
is in the hands of the natives, which seems probable from
the document, we shall find him."
"And what if he is lost in that immense country?"
asked Mary.
"Well, we'll find him still," exclaimed Paganel, in a
confident tone. "Won't we, friends?"
"Most certainly," replied Glenarvan; and anxious to
give a less gloomy turn to the conversation, he added --
A WAGER AND HOW DECIDED 187
"But I won't admit the supposition of his being lost, not for
an instant."
"Neither will I," said Paganel.
"Is Australia a big place?" inquired Robert.
"Australia, my boy, is about as large as four-fifths of
Europe. It has somewhere about 775,000 <i>hectares</i>."
"So much as that?" said the Major.
"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 <i>savant</i>, "that there are but
few accounts of travelers being lost in this immense coun-
try. Indeed, I believe Leichardt is the only one of whose
fate we are ignorant, and some time before my departure
I learned from the Geographical Society that Mcintyre had
strong hopes of having discovered traces of him."
"The whole of Australia, then, is not yet explored?"
asked Lady Helena.
"No, madam, but very little of it. This continent is
not much better known than the interior of Africa, and
yet it is from no lack of enterprising travelers. From 1606
to 1862, more than fifty have been engaged in exploring
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," replied the geogra-
pher, impatient of contradiction.
"Yes, McNabbs, quite that number."
"Farther still, Paganel."
"If you doubt me, I can give you the names."
"Oh, oh," said the Major, coolly. "That's just like
you <i>savants</i>. You stick at nothing."
"Major, will you bet your Purdy-Moore rifle against
my telescope?"
"Why not, Paganel, if it would give you any pleasure."
"Done, Major!" exclaimed Paganel. "You may say
good-by to your rifle, for it will never shoot another
chamois or fox unless I lend it to you, which I shall al-
ways be happy to do, by the by."
"And whenever you require the use of your telescope,
Paganel, I shall be equally obliging," replied the Major,
gravely.
188 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"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 com-
menced.
"Mnemosyne! Goddess of Memory, chaste mother of
the Muses!" he exclaimed, "inspire thy faithful servant
and fervent worshiper! Two hundred and fifty-eight years
ago, my friends, Australia was unknown. Strong suspi-
cions were entertained of the existence of a great southern
continent. In the library of your British Museum, Glen-
arvan, there are two charts, the date of which is 1550,
which mention a country south of Asia, called by the Por-
tuguese Great 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."
"<i>One</i>," said Robert.
"In that same year, Louis Vas de Torres, 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 called it
Eendracht, after his vessel. From this time navigators
increased. In 1618, Zeachen discovered the northern parts
of the coast, and called them Arnheim and Diemen. In
1618, Jan Edels went along the western coast, and chris-
tened 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 name 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, tri-
umphantly.
"It is yours, Paganel," replied the Major, "and I am
very sorry for it; but your memory might gain an armory
by such feats."
"It is certainly impossible to be better acquainted with
A WAGER AND HOW DECIDED 189
Australia; not the least name, not even the most trifling
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."
"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 air 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 possi-
ble speed, and quitted the coast, never to return."
"What!" exclaimed Paganel. "Do they actually give
that version 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?"
"I must own it is the case," replied 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 Eng-
lish call us 'frog-eaters.' Now, in general, people are not
afraid of what they eat."
"It is said, though, for all that," replied McNabbs. So
the Major kept his famous rifle after all.
CHAPTER V
THE STORM ON THE INDIAN OCEAN
Two days after this conversation, John Mangles an-
nounced that the <i>Duncan</i> was in longitude 113 degrees 37
minutes, and the passengers found on consulting the chart
that consequently Cape Bernouilli could not be more than
five degrees off. They must be sailing then in that part
of the Indian Ocean which washed the Australian conti-
nent, and in four days might hope to see Cape Bernouilli
appear on the horizon.
Hitherto the yacht had been favored by a strong westerly
breeze, but now there were evident signs that a calm was
impending, and on the 13th of December the wind fell en-
tirely; as the sailors say, there was not enough to fill a cap.
There was no saying how long this state of the atmos-
phere might last. But for the powerful propeller the yacht
would have been obliged to lie motionless as a log. The
young captain was very much annoyed, however, at the
prospect of emptying his coal-bunkers, for he had covered
his ship with canvas, intending to take advantage of the
slightest breeze.
"After all, though," said Glenarvan, 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."
"Well, John, what if it does? It will only make our
voyage a little longer."
"Yes, if it does not bring a storm with 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. "I may say so to your
Lordship, but I should not like to alarm Lady Glenarvan
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 been falling in a
190
ON THE INDIAN OCEAN 191
most ominous manner, and is now at 27°. This is a warn-
ing I dare not neglect, for there is nothing I dread 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 be-
tween the polar and equatorial winds, which results in cy-
clones, tornadoes, and all those multiplied varieties of
tempest against which a ship is no match."
"Well, John," said Glenarvan, "the <i>Duncan</i> 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 night, for
though as yet the sky was still unclouded, he had such faith
in his weather-glass, that he took every precaution that pru-
dence could suggest. About 11 P. M. the sky began to
darken in the south, and the crew were called up, and all
the sails hauled in, except the foresail, brigantine, top-sail,
and jib-boom. At midnight the wind freshened, and be-
fore long the cracking of the masts, and the rattling of the
cordage, and groaning of the timbers, awakened the pas-
sengers, 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 men, and doing
his best to make ready for the storm, standing, like an offi-
cer commanding a breach, with his face to the wind, and
his gaze fixed 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 hurried
toward them, and begged them to go below again immedi-
ately. 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 great 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 can-
not remain on deck, madam, no more can Miss Mary."
192 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
The ladies could not disobey an order that seemed almost
an entreaty, and they returned to their cabin. At the same
moment the wind redoubled 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
the funnel, but from the safety-valves of the boiler; the
alarm whistle 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
<i>Duncan</i> 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 cloud of
steam filled the room. The pistons were motionless in
their cylinders, and they were apparently powerless, and
the engine-driver, fearing for his boilers, was letting off
the steam.
"What's wrong?" asked the captain.
"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 remedied, 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 Glen-
arvan 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."
V. IV Verne
ON THE INDIAN OCEAN 193
"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 for John Man-
gles 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 <i>dénouement</i> 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 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 second in extri-
cating his ship from the peril in which she was placed by
the condition of her screw propeller. He resolved to rely
on the mainsail for keeping in the right route as far as
possible, and to brace the yards obliquely, so as not to pre-
sent 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. 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 vessel might get engulfed between
the waves, and not be able 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 the tempest.
The remainder of the night was spent in this manner,
and it was hoped that morning would bring a calm. But
this was a delusive hope. At 8 A. M. the wind had in-
creased to a hurricane.
John said nothing, but he trembled for his ship, and
those on board. The <i>Duncan</i> made a frightful plunge for-
194 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
ward, and for an instant the men thought she would never
rise again. Already they had seized their hatchets to cut
away the shrouds from the mainmast, but the next minute
the sails were torn away by the tempest, and had flown off
like gigantic albatrosses.
The yacht had risen once more, but she found herself at
the mercy of the waves entirely now, with nothing to steady
or direct her, and was so fearfully pitched and tossed about
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 work to begin
again, and it was 3 P. M. before his attempt succeeded.
A mere shred of canvas though it was, it was enough to
drive the <i>Duncan</i> forward with inconceivable rapidity to
the northeast, of course in the same direction as the hurri-
cane. Swiftness was their only chance of safety. Some-
times she would get in advance of the waves which carried
her along, and cutting through them with her sharp prow,
bury herself 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 then 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 dreadful alterna-
tions of hope and despair, the 12th of December passed
away, and the ensuing night, John Mangles never left his
post, not even to take food. Though his impassive face
betrayed no symptoms of fear, he was tortured with anx-
iety, and his steady gaze was fixed on the north, as if try-
ing to pierce through the thick mists that enshrouded it.
There was, indeed, great cause for fear. The <i>Duncan</i>
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 had a pri-
ON THE INDIAN OCEAN 195
vate talk with him about their situation, telling him frankly
the true state of affairs, stating the case with all the cool-
ness 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 inop-
portune manner about the direction of atmospheric cur-
rents, making interesting comparisons, between tornadoes,
cyclones, and rectilinear tempests. The Major calmly
awaited the end with the fatalism of a Mussulman.
About eleven o'clock, the hurricane appeared to decrease
slightly. The damp mist began to clear away, and a sud-
den 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 fact of their height showed John there must be
solid ground before 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 just 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 <i>Duncan</i> 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 thick mist.
But John fancied he could see beyond the breakers a quiet
basin, where the <i>Duncan</i> would be in comparative safety.
But how could she reach it?
196 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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."
"Yes, my Lord," replied John Mangles, raising Glen-
arvan's hand to his moistened eyes.
The yacht was only a few cables' lengths from the sand-
banks. The tide was high, and no doubt there was abun-
dance of water to float the ship over the dangerous bar;
but these terrific breakers alternately lifting her up and
then 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; this 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 tempo-
rary. 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 forthwith hauled
up, for danger seemed to have given the men double
strength. A few hatchet blows soon knocked in the heads,
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 <i>Duncan</i> flew over its tranquil bosom into
a quiet basin beyond 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 in-
creased violence.
CHAPTER VI
A HOSPITABLE COLONIST
THE captain's first care was to anchor his vessel se-
curely. 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 driven away or stranded at low water. After so
many hours of danger, the <i>Duncan</i> found 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. Glen-
arvan kept to himself the secret of his anxiety, and neither
Lady Helena, nor Mary, nor Robert suspected the grave
perils they had just escaped.
One important fact had to be ascertained. 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 12 minutes, and latitude 32
degrees 67 minutes, at Cape Catastrophe, three hundred
miles from Cape Bernouilli. The nearest port was Ade-
laide, the Capital of Southern Australia.
Could the <i>Duncan</i> be repaired there? This was the
question. The extent of the injuries must first be ascer-
tained, and in order to do this he ordered some of the men
to dive 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 possi-
bility of rotation. This was a serious damage, so serious
as to require more skilful workmen than could be found in
Adelaide.
After mature reflection, Lord Glenarvan and John Man-
gles 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 <i>Duncan</i> could
speedily be put right. This effected, they would proceed
to cruise along the eastern coast to complete their search
for the <i>Britannia</i>.
197
198 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
This decision was unanimously approved, and it was
agreed that they should start with the first fair wind.
They had not to wait long for the same night the hurricane
had ceased entirely, and there was only a manageable
breeze from the S. W. Preparations for sailing were in-
stantly commenced, and at four o'clock in the morning the
crew lifted the anchors, and got under way with fresh can-
vas outspread, and a wind blowing right for the Australian
shores.
Two hours afterward Cape Catastrophe was out of
sight. In the evening they doubled Cape Borda, and came
alongside Kangaroo Island. This is the largest of the
Australian 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 unexplored.
The boats had hard, rough work of it now, but the men
never complained. Glenarvan and his inseparable com-
panion, Paganel, and young Robert generally accompanied
them. But all this painstaking exploration came to noth-
ing. Not a trace of the shipwreck could be seen anywhere.
The Australian shores revealed no more than the Pata-
gonian. However, it was not time yet to lose hope alto-
gether, for they had not reached the exact point indicated
by the document.
On the 20th of December, they arrived off Cape Ber-
nouilli, which terminates Lacepede Bay, and yet not a
vestige of the <i>Britannia</i> had been discovered. Still this
was not surprising, as it was two years since the occur-
rence of the catastrophe, and the sea might, and indeed
must, have scattered and destroyed whatever fragments
of the brig had remained. Besides, the natives who scent
a wreck as the vultures do a dead body, would have pounced
upon it and carried off the smaller <i>débris</i>. 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 con-
tinent.
A HOSPITABLE COLONIST 199
But if so, what becomes of Paganel's ingenious hypothe-
sis about the document? viz., that it had been thrown into
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 intersected 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 rivers
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 it, and con-
fessed to the Major, who raised a discussion on the subject,
that his hypothesis would be altogether illogical in Aus-
tralia. It was evident that the degrees given related to
the place where the <i>Britannia</i> was actually shipwrecked
and not the place of captivity, and that the 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 the least de-
gree, though there was no reason now for prosecuting the
search for him along the 37th parallel, more than any other.
It followed, consequently, that if no traces of the <i>Britannia</i>
were discovered at Cape Bernouilli, the only thing to be
done was to return to Europe. Lord Glenarvan would
have been unsuccessful, but he would have done his duty
courageously and conscientiously.
But the young Grants did not feel disheartened. They
had long since said to themselves that the question of their
father's deliverance was about to be finally settled. Irrev-
ocably, indeed, they might consider it, for as Paganel had
judiciously demonstrated, if the wreck had occurred on the
eastern side, the survivors would have found their way
back to their own country long since.
"Hope on! Hope on, Mary!" said Lady Helena to
the young girl, as they neared the shore; "God's hand will
still lead us."
200 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"Yes, Miss Mary," said Captain John. "Man's ex-
tremity 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 the 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
would be a belt of coral reefs round the southern point of
the Australian coast. Even now they were quite suffi-
ciently formidable to destroy the keel of a ship, and the
<i>Britannia</i> 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 would
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 cliff by a pretty steep path. Robert climbed
like a young cat, and was the 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 re-
sembled some glens in the lowlands of Scotland, and
Paganel fancied it like some barren parts of Britanny.
But along the coast the country appeared to be inhabited,
and significant signs of industry revealed the presence of
civilized 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," said Paganel, after exam-
ining the object in question through his telescope.
"Let us go to it, then," said Glenarvan.
A HOSPITABLE COLONIST 201
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 recent clearings.
Several bullocks and about half a dozen horses were feed-
ing in meadows, surrounded by acacias supplied from the
vast plantations of Kangaroo Island. Gradually fields
covered with cereals came in sight, whole acres covered
with bristling ears of corn, hay-ricks in the shape of large
bee-hives, blooming orchards, a fine garden worthy of Hor-
ace, in which the useful and agreeable were blended; then
came sheds; commons wisely 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 col-
onist -- a man who, weary of the miseries of his country,
had come, with his family, to seek fortune and happiness
beyond the seas.
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 Paddy
O'Moore!"
"You are Irish," said Glenarvan, "if I am not mis-
taken," warmly grasping the outstretched hand of the colo-
nist.
"I was," replied Paddy O'Moore, "but now I am Aus-
tralian. Come in, gentlemen, whoever you may be, this
house is yours."
It was impossible not to accept an invitation 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
202 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
tin mugs, a large long table where twenty guests could
sit comfortably, composed the furniture, which looked in
perfect keeping with the solid house and robust in-
mates.
The noonday meal was spread; the soup tureen was
smoking between roast beef and a leg of mutton, sur-
rounded by large plates of olives, grapes, and oranges.
The necessary was there and there was no lack of the
superfluous. The host and hostess were so pleasant, and
the big table, with its abundant fare, looked so inviting,
that it would have been ungracious not to have seated them-
selves. The farm servants, on equal footing with their
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 Glenarvan in a tone of sur-
prise.
"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 <i>Benedicite</i>.
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 deeper trench between Scotland and England
than the twenty leagues of Irish 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, and forget the true cause
is their own idleness and vice and want of commonsense.
Whoever is sober and industrious, honest and 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
A HOSPITABLE COLONIST 203
proper cultivation, can not only get a living out of his lot,
but lay by £80 a year.
Paddy O'Moore knew this. He profited by his own
former experience, and laid by every penny he could till
he had saved enough to purchase new lots. His family
prospered, and his farm also. The Irish peasant became
a landed proprietor, 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 freest
country in the world.
His guests congratulated him heartily as he ended his
narration; and Paddy O'Moore no doubt expected confi-
dence for confidence, but he waited in vain. However, he
was one of those discreet people who can say, "I tell you
who I am, but I don't ask who you are." Glenarvan's
great object was to get information about the <i>Britannia</i>,
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 favorable; 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
that 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 made
to follow up the precise indications given of the where-
abouts 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 impression on the
minds of his auditors. Robert and Mary could not keep
back their tears, and Paganel had not a word of hope or
comfort to give them. John Mangles was grieved to the
heart, though he, too, was beginning to yield to the feeling
204 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
of hopelessness which had crept over the rest, when sud-
denly the whole party were electrified by hearing a voice
exclaim: "My Lord, praise and thank God! if Captain
Grant is alive, he is on this Australian continent."
CHAPTER VII
THE QUARTERMASTER OF THE "BRITANNIA"
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 servants, at the far end of
the table.
"You, Ayrton!" replied his master, 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
<i>Britannia</i>."
The effect of such a declaration may be imagined. Mary
Grant fell back, half-fainting, in Lady Helena's arms, over-
come by joyful emotion, and Robert, and Mangles, and
Paganel started up and toward the man that Paddy
O'Moore had addressed as <i>Ayrton</i>. He was a coarse-look-
ing fellow, about forty-five years of age, with very bright
eyes, though half-hidden beneath thick, overhanging 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 wasted time in
making fat. He was broad-shouldered and of middle
height, 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 sailors of the <i>Britan-
nia?</i>" was Glenarvan's first question.
"Yes, my Lord; Captain Grant's quartermaster."
"And saved with him after the shipwreck?"
THE QUARTERMASTER 205
"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 sailors mentioned in
the document?"
"No; I was not aware of the existence of the document.
The captain must have thrown it into the sea 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, '<i>if the captain is living</i>.'"
"And you added, '<i>he is on the Australian continent</i>.'"
"And, indeed, he cannot be anywhere else."
"Then you don't know where he is?"
"No, my Lord. I say again, I supposed he was buried
beneath the waves, or dashed to pieces against the rocks. It
was from you I learned that he was still alive."
"What then do you know?"
"Simply this -- if Captain Grant is alive, he is in Aus-
tralia."
"Where did the shipwreck occur?" asked Major Mc-
Nabbs.
This should have been the first question, but in the ex-
citement caused by the unexpected incident, Glenarvan cared
more to know where the captain was, than where the <i>Bri-
tannia</i> had been lost. After the Major's inquiry, however,
Glenarvan's examination proceeded more logically, and be-
fore long all the details of the event stood out clearly be-
fore the minds of the company.
To the question put by the Major, Ayrton replied:
"When I was swept off the forecastle, when I was haul-
ing in the jib-boom, the <i>Britannia</i> was running right on the
Australian coast. She was not more than two cables'
length from it and consequently she must have struck just
there."
"In latitude 37°?" asked John Mangles.
"Yes, in latitude 37°."
"On the west coast?"
"No, on the east coast," was the prompt reply.
"And at what date?"
206 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"It was on the night of the 27th of June, 1862."
"Exactly, just exactly," exclaimed Glenarvan.
"You see, then, my Lord," continued Ayrton, "I might
justly say, <i>If Captain Grant</i> 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 <i>naivete</i>, "you must own you have
fallen into the hands of uncommonly shrewd people."
But, doubtless, nobody heard his flattering words, for
Glenarvan and Lady Helena, and Mary Grant, and Robert,
were too much engrossed with Ayrton to listen to anyone
else. They pressed round him and grasped his hands. 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 not the captain? Ayr-
ton was quite sanguine as to his existence; 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 as-
sailed him on all sides were remarkably intelligent and ex-
act. All the while he spake, Mary held one of his hands in
hers. This sailor was a companion of her father's, one of
the crew of the <i>Britannia</i>. 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 quartermaster; but the
Major, and perhaps John Mangles, now began to ask them-
selves if this Ayrton's word was to be absolutely believed.
There was something suspicious about this unexpected meet-
ing. 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 falsehood has
sometimes gained ground by being exceedingly particular
in minutiæ. McNabbs, therefore, prudently refrained
from committing himself by expressing any opinion.
John Mangles, however, was soon convinced when he
heard Ayrton speak to the young girl about her father.
He knew Mary and Robert quite well. He had seen them
in Glasgow when the ship sailed. He remembered them
THE QUARTERMASTER 207
at the farewell breakfast given on board the <i>Britannia</i> to the
captain's friends, at which Sheriff Mcintyre was present.
Robert, then a boy of ten years old, had been 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 trifling incidents,
without attaching the importance to them that John Man-
gles 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, though a
score of questions far more important crowded into his
mind. Lady Helena made him look at Mary's beaming
face, and the words he was about to utter remained un-
spoken.
Ayrton gave an account of the <i>Britannia's</i> voyage across
the Pacific. Mary knew most of it before, as news 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 suc-
ceeded 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 Canal 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 in-
ternational interests.
After reconnoitering Papua, the <i>Britannia</i> went to pro-
vision 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
could not be stopped. The crew were too exhausted to
work the pumps, and for eight days the <i>Britannia</i> 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
208 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 presently dashed
violently against it. Ayrton was swept off by a wave, and
thrown among the breakers, where he lost consciousness.
When he recovered, he found himself in the hands of na-
tives, who dragged him away into the interior of the
country. Since that time he had never heard the <i>Britan-
nia's</i> name mentioned, and reasonably enough came to the
conclusion that she had gone down with all hands off the
dangerous reefs of Twofold Bay.
This ended Ayrton's recital, and more than once sor-
rowful exclamations were evoked by the story. The Major
could not, in common justice, doubt its authenticity. The
sailor was then asked to narrate 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 there -- not that
he was ill-treated, but the natives themselves lived misera-
bly. 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
depths of immense forests. For a whole month he sub-
sisted 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 rivers, and
across mountains, till he had traversed the whole of the un-
inhabited part of the continent, where only a few bold trav-
elers have ventured; and at last, in an exhausted and all
but dying condition, 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," said the Irish set-
tler, when the narrative ended, "I have nothing but good to
say of him. He is an honest, intelligent fellow and a good
V. IV Verne
THE QUARTERMASTER 209
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 not 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, ad-
dressing the sailor said, "You were quartermaster, you
say, on the <i>Britannia?</i>"
"Yes," replied Ayrton, without the 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 docu-
ment, and, though hardly absent a minute, Paddy O'Moore
managed to say, "My Lord, you may trust Ayrton; 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 with him. I knew all this story of his shipwreck
and his captivity. He is a true man, worthy of your en-
tire confidence."
Glenarvan was on the point of replying that 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 shipowners and Captain Grant. Mary recog-
nized her father's writing at once. It was to certify that
"Tom Ayrton, able-bodied seaman, was engaged as quar-
termaster on board the three-mast vessel, the <i>Britannia</i>,
Glasgow."
There could not possibly be the least doubt now of Ayr-
ton's identity, for it would have been difficult to account
for his possession of the document if he were not the man
named in it.
"Now then," said Glenarvan, "I wish to ask everyone's
opinion as to what is best to be done. Your advice, Ayr-
ton, will be particularly valuable, and I shall be much obliged
if you would let us have it."
After a few minutes' thought, Ayrton replied -- "I thank
210 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
you, my Lord, for the confidence you show towards me,
and 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 --"
"Most certainly you can," interrupted Glenarvan.
"I think with you," resumed Ayrton, "that the captain
and his two sailors have escaped alive from the wreck, but
since they have not found their way to the English settle-
ment, 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 Paga-
nel. "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
37th parallel?"
"I should suppose so, sir; for hostile tribes would hardly
remain anywhere near the districts under the British rule."
"That will complicate our search," said Glenarvan, some-
what disconcerted. "How can we possibly find traces of
the 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.
Paganel even was silent. His ingenuity for once was at
fault. John Mangles paced the cabin with great strides, as
if he fancied himself 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 <i>Duncan</i>, 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 <i>Duncan</i> 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 work-
manship than we have on board. One of the branches of
the screw is twisted, and we cannot get it repaired nearer
than Melbourne."
THE QUARTERMASTER 211
"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 <i>Duncan?</i>" repeated Ayrton, as if particularly
anxious on that score.
"The <i>Duncan</i> can rejoin us, or we can rejoin her, as the
case may be. Should we discover Captain Grant in the
course of our journey, we can all return together to Mel-
bourne. If we have to go on to the coast, on the contrary,
then the <i>Duncan</i> can come to us there. Who has any ob-
jection to make? Have you, Major?"
"No, not if there is a practicable route across Australia."
"So practicable, that I propose Lady Helena and Miss
Grant should accompany us."
"Are you speaking seriously?" asked 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 wild-
est 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 different matter. But the 37th parallel cuts only
through the province of Victoria, quite an English country,
with roads and railways, and well populated almost every-
where. 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 latitude, 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
212 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
her territories. This very year the Government threat-
ened to withdraw its subsidy from the Peninsular Com-
pany if their vessels 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 say I am not an Eng-
lishman," 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?" asked Glenarvan.
"What we all think, dear Edward," replied Lady Helena,
turning toward her companions; "let us be off at once."
CHAPTER VIII
PREPARATION FOR THE JOURNEY
GLENARVAN never lost much time between adopting an
idea and carrying it out. As soon as he consented to Paga-
nel's proposition, he gave immediate orders to make ar-
rangements 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 discover the captain exactly on the 37th
parallel, which they intended strictly to follow, but they
might come upon his track, and at all events, they were go-
ing to the actual spot where the wreck had occurred. That
was the principal point.
Besides, if Ayrton consented to join them and act as their
PREPARATION FOR THE JOURNEY 213
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 ask-
ing Ayrton to accompany them, for he felt particularly de-
sirous of securing the assistance of Harry Grant's old com-
panion.
Paddy O'Moore consented, though he would regret the
loss of his excellent servant.
"Well, then, Ayrton, will you come with 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 Captain 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 <i>Duncan</i> again?"
"At Melbourne, unless we traverse the whole continent
from coast to coast."
"But the captain?"
"The captain will await my instructions in the port of
Melbourne."
"You may depend on me then, my Lord."
"I will, Ayrton."
The quartermaster was warmly thanked by the passen-
gers of the <i>Duncan</i>, and the children loaded him with
caresses. Everyone rejoiced in his decision except the
Irishman, who lost in him an intelligent and faithful helper.
But Paddy understood the importance Glenarvan attached
to the presence of the man, and submitted. The whole
party then returned to the ship, after arranging a rendez-
vous with Ayrton, and ordering him to procure the neces-
sary means of conveyance across the country.
When John Mangles supported the proposition of Paga-
nel, he took for granted that he should accompany the ex-
pedition. He began to speak to Glenarvan at once about it,
and adduced all sorts of arguments to advance his cause --
his devotion to Lady Helena and his Lordship, how useful
could he be in organizing the party, and how useless on
214 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
board the <i>Duncan;</i> everything, in fact, but the main reason,
and that he had no need to bring forward.
"I'll only ask you one question, John," said Glenarvan.
"Have you entire confidence in your chief officer?"
"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
execution 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."
"Oh! your Lordship," murmured John, turning pale.
He could say no more, but grasped Lord Glenarvan's hand.
Next day, John Mangles and the ship's carpenter, accom-
panied by sailors carrying provisions, went back to Paddy
O'Moore's house to consult the Irishman about the best
method 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, that 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
connected by means of a rude mechanical contrivance, which
did not allow of the vehicle turning quickly. There was a
pole in front thirty-five 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 such a
long, narrow, shaky concern, and to guide such a team by
a goad; but Ayrton had served his apprenticeship to it on
the Irishman's farm, and Paddy could answer for his com-
petency. The role of conductor was therefore assigned
to him.
PREPARATION FOR THE JOURNEY 215
There were no springs to the wagon, and, consequently,
it was not likely to be very comfortable; but, such as it was,
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 cara-
van 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 rea-
son to regret leaving their cosy cabins on board the <i>Duncan</i>.
For the rest of the party, the preparations were soon
made, for they needed much less. Strong horses were pro-
vided for Lord Glenarvan, Paganel, Robert Grant,
McNabbs, and John Mangles; also for the two sailors,
Wilson and Mulrady, who were to accompany their captain.
Ayrton's place was, of course, to be in front of the wagon,
and M. Olbinett, who did not much care for equitation,
was to make room for himself 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
Lord Glenarvan. Ayrton thought proper to go too, and
about four o'clock the party came over the side of the <i>Dun-
can</i>.
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.
Paddy was quite amazed at the splendor of the saloon, and
was loud in admiration of the fitting up of the cabins, and
216 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
the carpets and hangings, as well as of the polished maple-
wood of the upper deck. Ayrton's approbation was much
less hearty, for he considered it mere costly superfluity.
But when he examined the yacht with a sailor's eye, the
quartermaster of the <i>Britannia</i> was as enthusiastic about it
as Paddy. He went down into the hold, inspected the
screw department and the engine-room, examining the en-
gine thoroughly, and inquired about its power and consump-
tion. He explored the coal-bunkers, the store-room, the
powder-store, and armory, in which last he seemed to be
particularly attracted by a cannon mounted on the fore-
castle. Glenarvan saw he had to do with a man who un-
derstood 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," 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 chase her!"
"Not one," replied Mangles. "The <i>Duncan</i> is a regular
racing yacht, and would never let herself be beaten."
"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 compli-
ment 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," was all Ayrton's reply.
Just then M. Olbinett came to announce dinner, and his
Lordship repaired with his guests to the saloon.
"That Ayrton is an intelligent man," said Paganel to
the Major.
PREPARATION FOR THE JOURNEY 217
"Too intelligent!" muttered McNabbs, 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 knew 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, ought to have removed the Major's suspicion.
"But," said Glenarvan, "our journey is not dangerous,
is it?"
"Not at all," replied Ayrton, quickly.
"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 that 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 separated. Ayr-
ton and Paddy O'Moore and family returned home. Horses
and wagons were to be ready the next day, and eight o'clock
in the morning was fixed for starting.
Lady Helena and Mary Grant soon made their prepara-
tions. They had less to do than Jacques Paganel, for he
spent half the night in arranging, and wiping, and rubbing
up the lenses of his telescope. Of course, next morning
he slept on till the Major's stentorian voice roused him.
The luggage was already conveyed to the farm, thanks
to John Mangles, and a boat was waiting to take the pas-
sengers. They were soon seated, and the young captain
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 scrupu-
lously, whatever they might be.
The old sailor told John he might rely on him, and, in
the name of the men, begged to offer his Lordship their
best wishes for the success of this new expedition.
A storm of hurrahs burst forth from the yacht as the
boat rowed off. In ten minutes the shore was reached, and
218 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
a quarter of an hour afterward the Irishman's farm. All
was ready. Lady Helena was enchanted with her installa-
tion. The huge chariot, with its primitive wheels and mas-
sive planks, pleased her particularly. The six bullocks,
yoked in pairs, had a patriarchal air about them which took
her fancy. Ayrton, goad in hand, stood waiting the orders
of this new master.
"My word," said Paganel, "this 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 wherever you
please. What can one wish better? The Samaratians un-
derstood 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 <i>salons</i>."
"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," interrupted Paga-
nel, gaily.
These mutual compliments were interrupted by the ar-
rival 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 Helena 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 party, well armed with car-
bines and revolvers, mounted their horses. Ayrton gave a
peculiar cry, and his team set off. The wagon shook and
the planks creaked, and the axles grated in the naves of the
wheels; and before long the hospitable farm of the Irish-
man was out of sight.
CHAPTER IX
A COUNTRY OF PARADOXES
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 im-
mense 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 prov-
ince of Adelaide, with the whole of Victoria, and with the
top of the reversed triangle which forms New South 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 marked 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 hus-
banded. 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 cara-
van, the moving fortress. The horsemen might act as
scouts, but must never be far away from it.
As no special marching order had been agreed upon,
everybody was at liberty to follow his inclinations within
certain limits. The hunters could scour the plain, amiable
folks could talk to the fair occupants of the wagon, and
philosophers could philosophize. Paganel, who was all
three combined, had to be and was everywhere at once.
The march across Adelaide presented nothing 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
219
220 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
great dainty by the ovine tribe, embraced many miles. Here
and there they noticed a species of sheep peculiar to New
Holland -- sheep with pig's heads, feeding between the posts
of the telegraph line recently made between Adelaide and
the coast.
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
sharply-defined horizon against the sky. 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 marvelous things were expected by the
whole party.
In this fashion, after a march of sixty miles 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
served 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 ami-
able geographer needed no pressing, and told them first
that this part of it was 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 years 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 about his
precise dates.
"No, at ten minutes past seven," replied the geographer,
gravely, "that Batman and Falckner first began a settle-
ment at Port Phillip, the bay on which the large city of
Melbourne now stands. For fifteen years the colony was
part of New South Wales, and recognized Sydney as the
A COUNTRY OF PARADOXES 221
capital; but in 1851, she was declared independent, and took
the name of Victoria."
"And has greatly increased in prosperity 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 Port Phillip had 224
inhabitants. To-day the province of Victoria numbers
550,000. Seven millions of vines produce annually 121,-
000 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 this moment."
"No, without counting that, since it is three parts de-
voured."
"Bravo, Monsieur Paganel," exclaimed 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 information when you
please. You may therefore believe me when I tell you 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 turn
round and abuse it. Well, I say and say again, and will al-
ways maintain that this is the most curious country on the
earth. Its formation, and nature, and products, and cli-
mate, and even its future disappearance have amazed, and
are now amazing, and will amaze, all the <i>savants</i> in the
world. Think, my friends, of a continent, the margin of
222 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
which, instead of the center, rose out of the waves originally
like a gigantic ring, which encloses, perhaps, 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, in-
stead 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 the rain; where the forests
are low and the grasses gigantic; where the animals are
strange; where quadrupeds have beaks, like the echidna,
or ornithorhynchus, and naturalists have been obliged
to create a special order for them, called monotremes;
where the kangaroos leap 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 imagina-
tion by the variety of their notes and their aptness; where
one bird serves for 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
Australia, a sort of parody, or rather a defiance of uni-
versal laws in the face of the rest of the world.'"
Paganel's tirade was poured forth in the most impetu-
ous 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 im-
minent danger of his neighbors. But at last his voice was
drowned in a thunder of applause, and he managed to stop.
Certainly after such an enumeration of Australian pe-
culiarities, he might have been left in peace but the Major
said in the coolest tone possible: "And is that all, Pag-
anel?"
"No, indeed not," rejoined the Frenchman, with re-
newed vehemence.
"What!" exclaimed Lady Helena; "there are more
wonders still in Australia?"
A COUNTRY OF PARADOXES 223
"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 cli-
mate," 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 dis-
eases are unknown, from typhus to measles, and chronic
affections."
"Still, that is no small advantage," 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 <i>savant</i>, in a tone of conviction.
"Here metals do not get rust on them by exposure to the
air, nor men. Here the pure, dry atmosphere whitens
everything rapidly, both linen and souls. The virtue of
the climate must have been well known in England when
they determined to send their criminals here to be re-
formed."
"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 regenerated in a few
years. Philanthropists know this. In Australia all na-
tures 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."
CHAPTER X
AN ACCIDENT
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 al-
lowed the cavalcade to make speedy progress. In the
evening they camped on the banks of the White Lake, the
waters of which are brackish and undrinkable.
Jacques Paganel was obliged to own that the name of
this lake was a complete misnomer, for the waters 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 <i>amour propre</i> of a geographer, but his reasoning made
no impression.
M. Olbinett prepared the evening meal with his accus-
tomed punctuality, and after this was dispatched, the trav-
elers disposed themselves for the night in the wagon and
in the tent, and were soon sleeping soundly, notwithstand-
ing the melancholy howling of the "dingoes," the jackals
of Australia.
A magnificent plain, thickly covered with chrysanthe-
mums, stretched out beyond the lake, and Glenarvan and
his friends 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 flax, 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 fortu-
nate enough, however, to hit one very rare animal with a
ball in the leg. This was the jabiru, a species which is
fast disappearing, the gigantic crane of the English colo-
nies. 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 long legs. Nature seems to have exhausted in its favor
all the primitive colors on her palette.
V. IV Verne
224
AN ACCIDENT 225
Great admiration was bestowed on this bird, and the
Major's spoil would have borne the honors of the day, had
not Robert come across an animal a few miles further on,
and bravely killed it. It was a shapeless creature, half
porcupine, half ant-eater, a sort of unfinished animal be-
longing to the first stage of creation. A long glutinous
extensible tongue hung out of his jaws in search of the
ants, which formed its principal food.
"It is an echidna," said Paganel. "Have you ever
seen such a creature?"
"It is horrible," replied Glenarvan.
"Horrible enough, but curious, and, what's more, pe-
culiar 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
stow it away in the luggage; but M. Olbinett resented the
idea so indignantly, that the <i>savant</i> was obliged to aban-
don his project.
About four o'clock in the afternoon, John Mangles de-
scried an enormous column of smoke about three miles
off, gradually overspreading the whole horizon. What
could be the cause of this phenomenon? Paganel was in-
clined 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 drove
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 tones 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 ad-
vanced 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 was on his
way from the eastern provinces to Portland Bay.
The drove numbered 12,075 head in all, or l,000 bul-
locks, 11,000 sheep, and 75 horses. All these had been
226 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
bought in the Blue Mountains in a poor, lean condition,
and were going to be fatted up on the rich pasture lands
of Southern Australia, and sold again at a great profit.
Sam Machell expected to get £2 on each bullock, and 10s.
on every sheep, which would bring him in £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 en-
dured. Truly the gain was hardly earned.
Sam Machell told his history in a few words, while the
drove continued their march among the groves of mimosas.
Lady Helena and Mary and the rest of the party seated
themselves under the shade of a wide-spreading gum-tree,
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 intermin-
able journey would last three months longer. His assis-
tants in the laborious task comprised twenty dogs and
thirty men, five of whom were blacks, and very serviceable
in tracking up any strayed 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 order, while the dogs, the
light cavalry of the regiment, preserved discipline in the
wings.
The travelers were struck with the admirable arrange-
ment of the drove. The different stock were kept apart,
for wild sheep and bullocks would not have got on to-
gether at all. The bullocks would never have grazed
where the sheep had passed along, and consequently they
had to go first, divided into two battalions. Five regi-
ments of sheep followed, in charge of twenty men, and last
of all came the horses.
Sam Machell drew the attention of his auditors 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
best route by instinct, and fully alive to their claim to re-
spect. Indeed, they were obliged to be studied and hu-
mored in everything, for the whole drove obeyed them
AN ACCIDENT 227
implicitly. If they took it into their heads to stop, it was a
matter of necessity to yield to their 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 written, 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 slaked their thirst at the numerous creeks that wa-
tered the plains, sleeping at night and making good prog-
ress in the day, always obedient and tractable to the dogs.
But when they had to go through great 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 dis-
bandment, and the blacks were often long days in quest
of him, before their search was successful. During the
heavy rains the lazy beasts refused to stir, and when violent
storms chanced to occur, the creatures became almost
mad with terror, and were seized with a wild, disorderly
panic.
However, by dint of energy and ambition, the stock-
keeper triumphed over these difficulties, incessantly re-
newed though they were. He kept steadily on; mile after
mile of plains 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 could 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 been crossed at once.
There was nothing to hinder but the obstinacy of the herd.
The bullocks would taste the water and turn back. The
sheep fled in all directions, afraid to brave the liquid ele-
ment. 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
228 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
brought to the river again, they simply quenched their
thirst, and declined a more intimate acquaintance with the
water. The next expedient employed was to carry all the
lambs over, hoping the mothers would be drawn after them,
moved by their cries. But the lambs might bleat as piti-
fully as they liked, the mothers never stirred. Sometimes
this state of affairs would last a whole month, and the stock-
keeper would be driven to his wits' end by his bleating, bel-
lowing, neighing army. Then all of a sudden, one fine
day, without rhyme or reason, a detachment would take it
into their heads to make a start across, and the only diffi-
culty now was to keep the 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 pastur-
age. Taking leave of Lord Glenarvan, he sprang on a
capital horse of the native breed, that one of his men held
waiting for him, and after shaking hands cordially with
everybody all round, took his departure. A few minutes
later, nothing was visible of the stock-keeper and his troop
but a cloud of dust.
The wagon resumed its course in the opposite direction,
and did not stop again till they halted for the night at the
foot of Mount Talbot.
Paganel made the judicious observation that it was the
25th of December, the Christmas Day so dear to English
hearts. But the steward had not forgotten it, and an ap-
petizing meal was soon ready under the tent, for which he
deserved and received warm compliments from the guests.
Indeed, M. Olbinett had quite excelled himself on this occa-
sion. He produced from his stores such an array of Euro-
pean dishes as is seldom seen in the Australian desert.
Reindeer hams, slices of salt beef, smoked salmon, oat
cakes, and barley meal scones; tea <i>ad libitum</i>, and whisky
in abundance, and several bottles of port, composed this
astonishing meal. The little party might have thought
themselves in the grand dining-hall of Malcolm Castle, in
the heart of the Highlands of Scotland.
AN ACCIDENT 229
The next day, at 11 A. M., the wagon reached 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 <i>myrtacea</i>, among others, the <i>metroside-
ros speciosa</i>, 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
the noisy paroquets, flew about in the green branches. Be-
low, on the bosom of the water, were a couple of shy and
unapproachable black swans. This <i>rara avis</i> of the Aus-
tralian rivers soon disappeared among the windings of the
Wimerra, which water the charming landscape in the most
capricious manner.
The wagon stopped on a grassy bank, the long fringes
of which dipped in the rapid current. There was neither
raft nor bridge, but cross over they must. Ayrton looked
about for a practicable ford. About a quarter of a mile
up the water seemed shallower, and it was here they deter-
mined to try to pass over. The soundings in different
parts showed a depth of three feet only, so that the wagon
might safely enough venture.
"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 danger-
ous. We shall manage it."
"Shall Lady Glenarvan and Miss Grant get out of the
wagon?"
"Not at all. My bullocks are surefooted, and you may
rely on me for keeping them straight."
"Very well, Ayrton; I can trust you."
The horsemen surrounded the ponderous vehicle, and
all stepped boldly into the current. Generally, when wag-
ons 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 depend on the sagacity of the animals and
the prudence of Ayrton, who directed the team. The Ma-
jor and the two sailors were some feet in advance. Glen-
arvan and John Mangles went at the sides of the wagon,
ready to lend any assistance the fair travelers might re-
quire, and Paganel and Robert brought up the rear.
230 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
All went well till they reached the middle of the Wimerra,
but then the hollow deepened, and the water rose to the mid-
dle of the wheels. The bullocks were in danger of losing
their footing, and dragging with them the oscillating ve-
hicle. 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 wagon toward
the opposite shore, and the bank began to slope upward, so
that the horses and bullocks were able to regain their foot-
ing, 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 re-
paired. They looked at each other hardly knowing what
to do, till Ayrton proposed he should go to Black Point
Station, twenty miles further north, and bring back a
blacksmith with him.
"Yes, go, my good fellow," said Glenarvan. "How
long will 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."
CHAPTER XI
CRIME OR CALAMITY
IT was not without apprehension that the Major saw
Ayrton quit the Wimerra camp to go and look for a black-
smith 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 dis-
turbed the repose of those tranquil glades, and after a short
night the sun reappeared on the horizon.
CRIME OR CALAMITY 231
As to Glenarvan, his only fear was lest Ayrton 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 nor his trouble.
He appeared next morning at daybreak, accompanied by a
man who gave himself out as the blacksmith from Black-
Point Station. He was a powerful fellow, and tall, but
his features were of a low, brutal type, which did not pre-
possess anyone in his favor. But that was nothing, pro-
vided he knew his business. He scarcely spoke, and cer-
tainly 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 they could plainly see from the way he set about
repairing the forepart of the wagon. He worked skil-
fully and with uncommon energy. The Major observed
that the flesh of his wrists 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 could not
conceal. McNabbs questioned the blacksmith about those
sores which looked so painful. The man continued his
work without answering. Two hours more and the dam-
age the carriage had sustained was made good. As to
Glenarvan's horse, it was soon disposed of. The black-
smith 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. Mc-
Nabbs pointed it out to Ayrton.
"It is the Black-Point brand," said 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.
Half an hour later, the travelers were on the road. Be-
yond the grove of mimosas was a stretch of sparsely tim-
bered country, which quite deserved its name of "open
232 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
plain." Some fragments of quartz and ferruginous rock
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 irregu-
lar creeks murmured in their beds, half hidden among
giant reeds. By-and-by they skirted vast salt lakes, rap-
idly evaporating. The journey was accomplished without
trouble, and, indeed, without fatigue.
Lady Helena invited the horsemen of the party 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 their day's ride.
Lady Helena, seconded by Miss Mary, did the honors
of their ambulatory house with perfect grace. John Man-
gles 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 suffer in the least.
Next day, the 29th of December, the march was delayed
somewhat by a succession of little hills, resembling a min-
iature 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 Carisbrook, rather an
important municipality. Ayrton was for passing outside
the town without going through it, in order, he said, 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 with him. His
visit to the town was very short, but it sufficed 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
CRIME OR CALAMITY 233
out in squares, crossed with parallel streets in the English
fashion. Nothing could be more simple, nothing less at-
tractive. As the town grows, they lengthen the streets
as we lengthen the trousers of a growing child, and thus
the original symmetry is undisturbed.
Carisbrook was full of activity, a remarkable 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 along 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. All
the little world was so absorbed in its own interests, that
the strangers passed unobserved amid the laborious inhab-
itants.
After an hour devoted to visiting Carisbrook, 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 Australians 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 fre-
quented 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 rich region of Mount
Alexander. It was here that the swarm of diggers
alighted in 1852; the natives had to fly to the interior.
We are in civilized districts without seeing any sign of it;
but our road will, before the day is over, cross the railway
which connects the Murray with the sea. Well, I must
confess, a railway in Australia does seem to me an aston-
ishing thing!"
"And pray, why, Paganel?" said Glenarvan.
234 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
"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 Frenchman like myself, and
confuses all one's notions of Australia!"
"Because you look at the past, and not 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. 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 Bridge and then he
became aware of the cause of such an excitement.
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 rail-
ways. The river crossed by the railway was full of broken
carriages and the engine. Whether the weight of the train
had been too much for the bridge, or whether the train had
gone 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 carriage, miraculously preserved
by the breaking of the coupling chain, remained on the
rails, six feet from the abyss. Below nothing was discern-
ible but a melancholy heap of twisted and blackened axles,
shattered wagons, bent rails, charred sleepers; the boiler,
burst by the shock, had scattered its plates to enormous
distances. From this shapeless mass of ruins flames and
black smoke still rose. After the fearful fall came fire,
more fearful 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 un-
der those ruins.
Glenarvan, Paganel, the Major, Mangles, mixing with
the crowd, heard the current talk. Everyone tried to ac-
CRIME OR CALAMITY 235
count for the accident, while doing his utmost to save what
could be saved.
"The bridge must have broken," said one.
"Not a bit of it. The bridge is whole enough; they
must have forgotten to close it to let the train pass. That
is all."
It was, in fact, a swing bridge, which opened for the
convenience of the boats. Had the guard, by an unpardon-
able oversight, omitted to close it for the passage of the
train, so that the train, coming on at full speed, was pre-
cipitated 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 oppo-
site 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 first to extinguishing the fire which raged in the
ruined heap with unconquerable violence. A few unrecog-
nizable bodies lay on the slope 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 rail-
way authorities sent a locomotive to bring them back to
Castlemaine.
Lord Glenarvan, having introduced himself to the sur-
veyor-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
236 IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
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 un-
derstand you."
"It is better than a misfortune, it is a crime!" he replied,
in the same quiet tone.
Glenarvan looked inquiringly at Mr. Mitchell for a so-
lution. "Yes, my Lord," replied the surveyor-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 inten-
tionally opened, and not left open by the negligence of the
guard; and connecting with this fact the guard's disap-
pearance, 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;
they know nothing of its mechanism."
"Exactly so," said the police-inspector.
"Well," added Mr. Mitchell, "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 doubt as to the com-
plicity of the guard."
The police-officer shook his head gently, but continu-
ously.
"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 were two men carrying a corpse. It was the body
CRIME OR CALAMITY 237
of the guard, quite cold, stabbed to the heart. The mur-
derers had no doubt hoped, by dragging their victim to a
distance, that the police would be put on a wrong scent 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 matter.
"Those who dealt that blow," said he, "were already
well used to this little instrument"; and so saying he pro-
duced 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 colo