The Adventures of Saturnin Farandoul

by Albert Robida

  “With all these ladies,” Sir Phileas Fogg corrected, severely.

  “With all these ladies, when you came to our aid. Unfortunately, the gauchos are numerous; there are a good 400 or 500 over there, and when the water goes down, which won’t take long, we’ll be trapped again!”

  “Then let’s not wait!” cried Farandoul. “Give me a free hand, and I’ll take responsibility for transporting you and the 358 ladies to the other side of the Rio Negro.”

  “Sir, I’m relying upon your honor as a gentleman,” said Phileas. “Do as you wish!”

  Farandoul gathered his mariners and gave them their orders.

  It was quickly settled. While the two poor scalped men kept watch on the movements of the gauchos with Farandoul, the seamen set to work. The ladies being gathered in one place so as not to impede the maneuvers, the horses and cattle were hobbled. Everything that could be made into rope was used to attach the covered wagons firmly end-to-end, and a few felled trees served to consolidate the assembly, which soon formed a wheeled raft capable of carrying the entire colony.

  The whole day was taken up by this task. A tall pine was drafted in as a mast, and the ladies worked to make a large sail out of the wagons’ awnings. By nightfall, everything was ready. Farandoul decided to leave the departure until morning; everyone gathered around the bivouac fires. The mariners having been introduced to the ladies, everyone had a very pleasant evening. Passepartout never shut up. He undertook to bring Farandoul up to date with every detail of their odyssey.

  “That little brunette you see over there,” he whispered to Farandoul, “is Ernestine, a Parisian from the Buttes-Chaumont. The boss thinks he’s saved her, but that was a trick. I don’t like to travel alone, you understand; as she wanted to come with us, I told her to find a way to be saved by the boss—and she succeeded. The boss saved her in Paris, in an omnibus, and we brought her with us. That was the start, you see. We soon saved two Marseillaise girls, then a Spaniard on the ferry. That one wanted to be the last—she didn’t want to let us save any more! But she resigned herself to it in the end. Madame Aouda made her see reason!”

  “What! Madame Aouda is here?”

  “Of course! She served as our interpreter in India. That’s where things began to get hot. We saved a dozen bayaderes with two elephants that the rajah wanted to force into marriage.”

  “The elephants?”

  “No, the bayaderes. What a pursuit there was then! In Hong Kong, we abducted three Chinese women and two dozen week-old children that we put out to nurse. At that point we weren’t yet behind schedule, but at sea we fell into the hands of pirates commanded by someone called Bora-Bora, to whom I hope to deliver a dozen revolver-shots someday…”

  “No need—I’ve killed him,” said Farandoul, coldly.

  “Is that a fact? My warmest congratulations! I’ll resume my story. So, we were prisoners of the pirates. That swine Bora-Bora, not content with having robbed us, condemned us to death. Needless to say, the thing was done with great ceremony, on the territory and probably with the consent of a certain Ra-Tafia, Rajah of Timor.”

  “My father-in-law,” said Farandoul.

  “I don’t congratulate you. Still, it was with flattering ceremony that we were executed.”

  “Damnable joker!” observed Mandibul. “Are you telling us that you were shot?”

  “Better than that, Monsieur,” said Passepartout, getting to his feet effortfully.

  “Decapitated, then?”

  “Better than that! Ask Sir Phileas. Look—he’s lowering his head. That means a great deal!”

  “But in the end,” cried Mandibul, “what…?”

  “We were impaled, Monsieur!”

  A murmur of horror ran through the audience.

  “But then…?” Mandibul went on.

  “Alas! Fortunately, the good Dutchmen were watching, and, with delicate precaution, removed us from the stakes. Bora-Bora fled; as for us, we set sail for Japan. In Japan, new adventures! We saved four women, we fought duels against four officers, with their seconds and with their seconds’ seconds.”

  “How did you get through so many duels?” asked Mandibul.

  “Defeated, but safe and sound! They disemboweled themselves in front of us. After the duels we headed for San Francisco, 45 days late. The boss was furious, but I just delighted in resting my weary bones. I figured that our troubles would be at an end when we arrived in a civilized country. Yes, I’m joking. Our celebrity had preceded us there. We got involved in all sorts of complicated affairs and had to work hard to save ourselves. I emptied two revolvers in San Francisco alone. We finally took the railroad—a special train that ate through a lot of banknotes. We were going through Salt Lake City… Can you guess what happened to us in the Mormon city?”

  “You married two dozen ladies,” replied Farandoul.

  “On the contrary—17 ladies that we’d saved in San Francisco jumped ship and left us. It was to be escorted as far as Mormon territory that they’d thrown themselves into our arms. Sir Phileas and I launched ourselves in their pursuit. People tried to stop us but we galloped off and caught up with them after half an hour. Alas, it was too late.”

  “Horror!”

  “Yes, they’d just married a Senator. Most of all, I regret a certain Sidonie Brulovif…a piquant brunette. She was from Bordeaux.”

  “Sapristi!” cried Farandoul. “No doubt about it! They were my 17 ingrate wives!”

  “What—you were the Senator!”

  “No, I only came after the Senator.”

  “There’s a coincidence!” cried Passepartout. “I’ll go on. So, we lost 17 ladies in Salt Lake City, but we avenged ourselves by taking away 35 Mormons disgusted with their religion, including four of Brigham Young’s own wives…look, the four over there who are drinking tea. The rescue wasn’t completed without difficulty; it was necessary to use the revolvers. We got our train under way again; the Mormons immediately stoked up another and followed us. We were cornered in the Rocky Mountains. Bang! Bang! More revolvers. All of a sudden, Redskins fell on our backs—filthy Apaches, who started off by skewering the Mormons. When the job was done I went to the chief to pay him my compliments; that’s when the swine gave me to understand that he’d really like to have my hair. I dug my heels in; they trussed us up, and the entire caravan was led off by the Apaches. As soon as we arrived in their village we tried to escape, they recaptured us, knocked us down, and…”

  “And?”

  “And they scalped us! My poor hair! I had so much of it, only ever having distributed a few locks here and there. Now it ornaments the hut of a certain Red…”

  “Bison,” Farandoul supplied.

  “Yes, Red Bison. You know everything, then?”

  “My dear Passepartout, I regret not having known you sooner, for I would have brought you back your hair. Continue.”

  “So, they despoiled us and left us there. We took advantage of it by clinging on to life. You know how obstinate Sir Phileas is; I’ve tried to emulate him. An Indian woman hid us in a hole in a rock, and cared for us until we healed. I’ll always conserve her memory in my heart. She was an angel, my dear Monsieur, good, gentle and charming. She had a very poetic name—she was called Rising Moon.”

  “Sacrebleu! But that’s my wife!” cried Farandoul.

  Passepartout sat up straight in amazement. “Impossible!” he stammered.

  “But there she is! Don’t you recognize her?” And he went to fetch Rising Moon from the midst of a group in which she was hidden.

  Passepartout and Phileas Fogg raised their arms to the heavens.

  “Delighted to see you again, milady,” cried Phileas. “Delighted!”

  “Madame!” said Passepartout, bowing.

  “Rising Moon is glad to see the two Palefaces again in good health,” the young Indian woman replied. “The Great Spirit is good; he has watched over them.”

  Farandoul, who was very thoughtful, wondered why Rising Moon had not recognized the trav
elers before. He resolved to question her later, and gestured to Passepartout, to signal that he should continue his story.

  “We were beginning to get bored in our hole in the rock and were seeking a means of rescuing the ladies who were still in the power of the Apaches when a volley of rifle-fire woke us up one morning with a start. The Apaches were being attacked by federal troops. We took advantage of the opportunity, got the ladies back, and made our escape on foot, leaving the Yankees and the Apaches to sort it out. Sir Phileas bought covered wagons at the first American post and we resumed our journey. We had two days of tranquility.

  “On the third day, trappers told us that the entire Sioux tribe, tempted by the hope of capturing so many white women, was waiting for us a dozen leagues away at the pass into Arkansas. The eastward route being closed to us, we took the decision to head southwards. We reached the Rio del Norte and went downriver to the Mexican frontier.

  “What a journey! We were scarcely making two leagues a day, in the midst of terrible difficulties. It was necessary for us to erase the tracks of our 30 covered wagons with the utmost care, lest we put any Indians on our track. At Paso del Norte, we were given a fine welcome by the Mexicans.

  “Do you think that was the end of our troubles? Not at all. We had the imprudence to attend a soirée at the home of General Ramon de las Aguas Calientes; we were treated with the consideration due to misfortune, but after dinner Don Ramon proposed that Sir Phileas should gamble a few women at Monte. Sir Phileas refused, even though we had enough to be able to risk a few. Don Ramon got annoyed; to settle the matter I offered to play him for Ernestine. We began a hand of Monte. The General cheated. Sir Phileas pointed it out to him politely, but Don Ramon was furious, and drew his machete. We drew our revolvers! The garrison arrived, comprising six generals, 14 colonels and 40 soldiers and officers. As they refused to lower their arms, we tried to negotiate. Don Ramon de las Aguas Calientes had us arrested. A court-martial was organized under his presidency, and we were condemned to death. At dawn on the following day we heard cheering outside. The garrison arrived and forced the doors of our prison. We were carried off in triumph without knowing why, and it was only later that we learned that a revolution—the 246th since 1821—had broken out in Mexico.

  “General de las Aguas Calientes had been dismissed. Immediately setting our anxieties aside, we set off with our covered wagons for Chihuahua. A fortnight’s march—and it was already two years since we had left London! At Chihuahua we fell into the middle of a counter-revolution fomented by our enemy Don Ramon. We were re-arrested. Don Ramon offered us a choice between a firing squad and commissions as colonels in his army. Naturally, we opted for the commissions, on condition that we could bring the ladies. Don Ramon accepted, and we were colonels! There were enough of them in Don Ramon’s army, mind! All the soldiers had been promoted by one grade, the privates becoming corporals, the corporals sergeants, and so on—except that the dismissed former generals had become privates!

  “We formed a regiment armed with lances with the 265 ladies that we had then—it was called the Picadoras de la Libertad—and we marched on Mexico City with Don Ramon. Two days later, a counter-counter-revolution broke out in the army and Don Ramon was overturned by General Zapatepas. Don Ramon became Sir Phileas’ orderly. General Zapatepas lasted a week, at the end of which the army rebelled again and replaced him with Don Benedicto Tulipanos. After a three-month match we arrived outside the walls of Mexico City; the president’s army having decided to switch sides, we made our triumphant entry into the capital without a shot being fired. A great day! The army paraded in good order before the eyes of General Ricardo Acapulco, Tulipanos’ successor. We paraded too; at the sight of the Picadoras de le Libertad, the Mexicans could not contain their enthusiasm, showering us with flowers and carrying us off in triumph.

  “The people and the army held a meeting regarding a new pronunciamento. Colonel Phileas Fogg was named president of the Mexican Republic! We slept in the presidential palace. In the middle of the night I was woken up. A few malcontents wanted to install me at their head, to overturn President Phileas and proclaim Don Juan Passepartout dictator of the Aztec Empire, successor to Montezuma. You know me well enough to know that I didn’t hesitate for a minute…”

  “Good for you!” said Mandibul.

  “I didn’t hesitate! I had Phileas arrested and locked up the Picadoras de la Libertad. Mexico spent two happy days under my reign; on the third morning I heard the General fighting beneath the palace windows. I stayed in bed for a quarter of an hour before getting up, and gave the insurrection time to grow; but for that fatal moment of idleness I like to think that I would still be presiding over the destiny of Mexico. I looked so authoritative in my uniform—but I didn’t have time to put it on. My successor came into my bedroom; it was Don Ramon de las Aguas Calientes, our first enemy!

  “Naturally, I expected to return to the damp straw. Not at all! Don Ramon was still apprehensive of our popularity. He simply sent us to Vera Cruz with our ladies—I forgot to tell you that his first act had been to disband the Picadoras de la Libertad. Sir Phileas forgave me for the pronunciamento and I remained in his service.

  “At Vera Cruz we were put on a sailing ship, which deposited us after a 70-day journey along the coast in the state of Pernambuco in Brazil. We headed for Rio with 32 more ladies picked up here and there along our route. We spent eight months crossing Brazil, saving another 23 ladies, but, as the Brazilian authorities were making things difficult, we went into the virgin forest. We crossed Paraguay. Finally, we approached Buenos Aires, where we thought our troubles would be at an end, but near the isle of Las Caravellas,52 bachelor adventurers—colonists—among whom was a certain Don Emilio, got our ladies in their sights.

  “These gentlemen, weary of solitude, came to us ceremoniously to ask for the hands of some of our protégées in marriage; some were desirous of marrying two or three, claiming that, in view of the scant security of the pampas, it was necessary to take several wives in order to be sure of conserving one—but Sir Phileas refused!

  “That annoyed them; we were pursued, tracked and chased all the way to Patagonia! We kept as far ahead as possible, but they have lassos and know how to use them. From time to time, some gaucho would succeed in getting close to us, throw his lasso into the herd and make off with his prey. Oof! You know everything now.”

  VI.

  Because they all felt the need to rest and recover their strength in order to confront the elements and humans on the following day the meeting in which Passepartout had finished the recital of his misfortunes was concluded, and the entire camp was soon profoundly asleep.

  Only Farandoul reflected on the singularity of the encounter. He was only moderately well-disposed towards Sir Phileas Fogg and Passepartout, and resolved to leave them once he had seen them safely to the other side of the Rio Negro.

  The rising Sun found everyone awake and ready to depart. The embarkation on the vast raft formed by Phileas’ covered wagons began immediately. The ladies were placed in the middle; the sailors stationed themselves fore and aft. As for the horses and the cattle, they had to swim, attached to the sides of the raft. The embarkation was completed as quickly as possible, and in response to a blast on Farandoul’s whistle the big sail was hoisted. It was quite a coup de théâtre!

  The wind filling the sail suddenly carried the raft several meters forward. The cattle and horses were dragged into the water, their bellows and whinnies of fear mingling with a few feminine squeals. The gauchos behind the hill also set up an angry clamor—their prey was escaping! They were seen for a few minutes galloping desperately across the plain, but maneuvering the raft required all the sailors’ attention, and they soon ceased to pay them the slightest attention.

  The immense raft made good progress. The wind pushed it towards the opposite bank, which could scarcely be distinguished, but it was necessary to maintain its course to prevent it from drifting. At midday, Farandoul had the satisfaction
of depositing everyone safe and sound on firm ground. Immediately, without responding to the warm thanks of the ladies, the sailors returned the covered wagons to a fit state to continue and hitched up the teams. After a light meal, the caravan moved off southwards.

  The first Patagonians showed themselves that same evening. Crouching on their swift horses, they galloped alongside the caravan, inspecting it carefully, and then rode off into the desert. A party of six horsemen went on ahead to make a routine reconnaissance; having attained a certain distance from the caravan they suddenly sat up straight on their horses and released loud cries at the sight of the women. They shouted for some time, eventually launching themselves into a joyful pantomime, then rode off again without replying to the friendly waves of the mariners.

  “I knew it!” cried Passepartout. “It always begins in the same way!”

  “How many cartridges, Passepartout?” Phileas asked, coolly.

  “Eighteen?”

  “Just a minute!” said Farandoul. “Let’s try to travel peacefully. The only road that remains for us to follow, my dear Monsieur Phileas, is the one to Valdivia, on the far side of the Cordilleras, in Chile—which is to say that we have 200 leagues to travel across the Patagonian and Araucarian pampas! I hoped to be able to get on with my own business after having set you on your road, but I see that I shan’t be able to abandon you until we’re on the other side of the Cordilleras. Let’s go, then, carefully and swiftly!”

  They only made three leagues the following day, in spite of all the efforts the mariners made to take the caravan forward. More and more Patagonians showed themselves on the pampas. They made camp as best they could, and everyone, weighed down by fatigue, went to sleep after a brief supper. Horatius Bixby grumbled about the bad luck that put obstacles in the way of all his projects. There was a lively exchange of words between him and Phileas Fogg, to the extent that Farandoul had to intervene in order to prevent discord slipping into his camp.