Five Weeks In A Balloon

by Jules Verne

  The weight of the three travellers was replaced with an equivalent quantity of sand, and they got out of the car. Each was absorbed in his own thoughts; and for many hours neither of them spoke. Joe prepared their evening meal, which consisted of biscuit and pemmican, and was hardly tasted by either of the party. A mouthful of scalding water from their little store completed this gloomy repast.

  During the night none of them kept awake; yet none could be precisely said to have slept. On the morrow there remained only half a pint of water, and this the doctor put away, all three having resolved not to touch it until the last extremity.

  It was not long, however, before Joe exclaimed:

  "I'm choking, and the heat is getting worse! I'm not surprised at that, though," he added, consulting the thermometer; "one hundred and forty degrees!"

  "The sand scorches me," said the hunter, "as though it had just come out of a furnace; and not a cloud in this sky of fire. It's enough to drive one mad!"

  "Let us not despair," responded the doctor. "In this latitude these intense heats are invariably followed by storms, and the latter come with the suddenness of lightning. Notwithstanding this disheartening clearness of the sky, great atmospheric changes may take place in less than an hour."

  "But," asked Kennedy, "is there any sign whatever of that?"

  "Well," replied the doctor, "I think that there is some slight symptom of a fall in the barometer."

  "May Heaven hearken to you, Samuel! for here we are pinned to the ground, like a bird with broken wings."

  "With this difference, however, my dear Dick, that our wings are unhurt, and I hope that we shall be able to use them again."

  "Ah! wind! wind!" exclaimed Joe; "enough to carry us to a stream or a well, and we'll be all right. We have provisions enough, and, with water, we could wait a month without suffering; but thirst is a cruel thing!"

  It was not thirst alone, but the unchanging sight of the desert, that fatigued the mind. There was not a variation in the surface of the soil, not a hillock of sand, not a pebble, to relieve the gaze. This unbroken level discouraged the beholder, and gave him that kind of malady called the "desert-sickness." The impassible monotony of the arid blue sky, and the vast yellow expanse of the desert-sand, at length produced a sensation of terror. In this inflamed atmosphere the heat appeared to vibrate as it does above a blazing hearth, while the mind grew desperate in contemplating the limitless calm, and could see no reason why the thing should ever end, since immensity is a species of eternity.

  Thus, at last, our hapless travellers, deprived of water in this torrid heat, began to feel symptoms of mental disorder. Their eyes swelled in their sockets, and their gaze became confused.

  When night came on, the doctor determined to combat this alarming tendency by rapid walking. His idea was to pace the sandy plain for a few hours, not in search of any thing, but simply for exercise.

  "Come along!" he said to his companions; "believe me, it will do you good."

  "Out of the question!" said Kennedy; "I could not walk a step."

  "And I," said Joe, "would rather sleep!"

  "But sleep, or even rest, would be dangerous to you, my friends; you must react against this tendency to stupor. Come with me!"

  But the doctor could do nothing with them, and, therefore, set off alone, amid the starry clearness of the night. The first few steps he took were painful, for they were the steps of an enfeebled man quite out of practice in walking. However, he quickly saw that the exercise would be beneficial to him, and pushed on several miles to the westward. Once in rapid motion, he felt his spirits greatly cheered, when, suddenly, a vertigo came over him; he seemed to be poised on the edge of an abyss; his knees bent under him; the vast solitude struck terror to his heart; he found himself the minute mathematical point, the centre of an infinite circumference, that is to say--a nothing! The balloon had disappeared entirely in the deepening gloom. The doctor, cool, impassible, reckless explorer that he was, felt himself at last seized with a nameless dread. He strove to retrace his steps, but in vain. He called aloud. Not even an echo replied, and his voice died out in the empty vastness of surrounding space, like a pebble cast into a bottomless gulf; then, down he sank, fainting, on the sand, alone, amid the eternal silence of the desert.

  At midnight he came to, in the arms of his faithful follower, Joe. The latter, uneasy at his master's prolonged absence, had set out after him, easily tracing him by the clear imprint of his feet in the sand, and had found him lying in a swoon.

  "What has been the matter, sir?" was the first inquiry.

  "Nothing, Joe, nothing! Only a touch of weakness, that's all. It's over now."

  "Oh! it won't amount to any thing, sir, I'm sure of that; but get up on your feet, if you can. There! lean upon me, and let us get back to the balloon."

  And the doctor, leaning on Joe's arm, returned along the track by which he had come.

  "You were too bold, sir; it won't do to run such risks. You might have been robbed," he added, laughing. "But, sir, come now, let us talk seriously."

  "Speak! I am listening to you."

  "We must positively make up our minds to do something. Our present situation cannot last more than a few days longer, and if we get no wind, we are lost."

  The doctor made no reply.

  "Well, then, one of us must sacrifice himself for the good of all, and it is most natural that it should fall to me to do so."

  "What have you to propose? What is your plan?"

  "A very simple one! It is to take provisions enough, and to walk right on until I come to some place, as I must do, sooner or later. In the mean time, if Heaven sends you a good wind, you need not wait, but can start again. For my part, if I come to a village, I'll work my way through with a few Arabic words that you can write for me on a slip of paper, and I'll bring you help or lose my hide. What do you think of my plan?"

  "It is absolute folly, Joe, but worthy of your noble heart. The thing is impossible. You will not leave us."

  "But, sir, we must do something, and this plan can't do you any harm, for, I say again, you need not wait; and then, after all, I may succeed."

  "No, Joe, no! We will not separate. That would only be adding sorrow to trouble. It was written that matters should be as they are; and it is very probably written that it shall be quite otherwise by-and-by. Let us wait, then, with resignation."

  "So be it, master; but take notice of one thing: I give you a day longer, and I'll not wait after that. To-day is Sunday; we might say Monday, as it is one o'clock in the morning, and if we don't get off by Tuesday, I'll run the risk. I've made up my mind to that!"

  The doctor made no answer, and in a few minutes they got back to the car, where he took his place beside Kennedy, who lay there plunged in silence so complete that it could not be considered sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Seventh.

  Terrific Heat.--Hallucinations.--The Last Drops of Water.--Nights of Despair.--An Attempt at Suicide.--The Simoom.--The Oasis.--The Lion and Lioness.

  The doctor's first care, on the morrow, was to consult the barometer. He found that the mercury had scarcely undergone any perceptible depression.

  "Nothing!" he murmured, "nothing!"

  He got out of the car and scrutinized the weather; there was only the same heat, the same cloudless sky, the same merciless drought.

  "Must we, then, give up to despair?" he exclaimed, in agony.

  Joe did not open his lips. He was buried in his own thoughts, and planning the expedition he had proposed.

  Kennedy got up, feeling very ill, and a prey to nervous agitation. He was suffering horribly with thirst, and his swollen tongue and lips could hardly articulate a syllable.

  There still remained a few drops of water. Each of them knew this, and each was thinking of it, and felt himself drawn toward them; but neither of the three dared to take a step.

  Those three men, friends and companions as they were, fixed their haggard eyes upon each other with an instinct of ferocious lo
nging, which was most plainly revealed in the hardy Scot, whose vigorous constitution yielded the soonest to these unnatural privations.

  Throughout the day he was delirious, pacing up and down, uttering hoarse cries, gnawing his clinched fists, and ready to open his veins and drink his own hot blood.

  "Ah!" he cried, "land of thirst! Well might you be called the land of despair!"

  At length he sank down in utter prostration, and his friends heard no other sound from him than the hissing of his breath between his parched and swollen lips.

  Toward evening, Joe had his turn of delirium. The vast expanse of sand appeared to him an immense pond, full of clear and limpid water; and, more than once, he dashed himself upon the scorching waste to drink long draughts, and rose again with his mouth clogged with hot dust.

  "Curses on it!" he yelled, in his madness, "it's nothing but salt water!"

  Then, while Ferguson and Kennedy lay there motionless, the resistless longing came over him to drain the last few drops of water that had been kept in reserve. The natural instinct proved too strong. He dragged himself toward the car, on his knees; he glared at the bottle containing the precious fluid; he gave one wild, eager glance, seized the treasured store, and bore it to his lips.

  At that instant he heard a heart-rending cry close beside him--"Water! water!"

  It was Kennedy, who had crawled up close to him, and was begging there, upon his knees, and weeping piteously.

  Joe, himself in tears, gave the poor wretch the bottle, and Kennedy drained the last drop with savage haste.

  "Thanks!" he murmured hoarsely, but Joe did not hear him, for both alike had dropped fainting on the sand.

  What took place during that fearful night neither of them knew, but, on Tuesday morning, under those showers of heat which the sun poured down upon them, the unfortunate men felt their limbs gradually drying up, and when Joe attempted to rise he found it impossible.

  He looked around him. In the car, the doctor, completely overwhelmed, sat with his arms folded on his breast, gazing with idiotic fixedness upon some imaginary point in space. Kennedy was frightful to behold. He was rolling his head from right to left like a wild beast in a cage.

  All at once, his eyes rested on the butt of his rifle, which jutted above the rim of the car.

  "Ah!" he screamed, raising himself with a superhuman effort.

  Desperate, mad, he snatched at the weapon, and turned the barrel toward his mouth.

  "Kennedy!" shouted Joe, throwing himself upon his friend.

  "Let go! hands off!" moaned the Scot, in a hoarse, grating voice--and then the two struggled desperately for the rifle.

  "Let go, or I'll kill you!" repeated Kennedy. But Joe clung to him only the more fiercely, and they had been contending thus without the doctor seeing them for many seconds, when, suddenly the rifle went off. At the sound of its discharge, the doctor rose up erect, like a spectre, and glared around him.

  But all at once his glance grew more animated; he extended his hand toward the horizon, and in a voice no longer human shrieked:

  "There! there--off there!"

  There was such fearful force in the cry that Kennedy and Joe released each other, and both looked where the doctor pointed.

  The plain was agitated like the sea shaken by the fury of a tempest; billows of sand went tossing over each other amid blinding clouds of dust; an immense pillar was seen whirling toward them through the air from the southeast, with terrific velocity; the sun was disappearing behind an opaque veil of cloud whose enormous barrier extended clear to the horizon, while the grains of fine sand went gliding together with all the supple ease of liquid particles, and the rising dust-tide gained more and more with every second.

  Ferguson's eyes gleamed with a ray of energetic hope.

  "The simoom!" he exclaimed.

  "The simoom!" repeated Joe, without exactly knowing what it meant.

  "So much the better!" said Kennedy, with the bitterness of despair. "So much the better--we shall die!"

  "So much the better!" echoed the doctor, "for we shall live!" and, so saying, he began rapidly to throw out the sand that encumbered the car.

  At length his companions understood him, and took their places at his side.

  "And now, Joe," said the doctor, "throw out some fifty pounds of your ore, there!"

  Joe no longer hesitated, although he still felt a fleeting pang of regret. The balloon at once began to ascend.

  "It was high time!" said the doctor.

  The simoom, in fact, came rushing on like a thunderbolt, and a moment later the balloon would have been crushed, torn to atoms, annihilated. The awful whirlwind was almost upon it, and it was already pelted with showers of sand driven like hail by the storm.

  "Out with more ballast!" shouted the doctor.

  "There!" responded Joe, tossing over a huge fragment of quartz.

  With this, the Victoria rose swiftly above the range of the whirling column, but, caught in the vast displacement of the atmosphere thereby occasioned, it was borne along with incalculable rapidity away above this foaming sea.

  The three travellers did not speak. They gazed, and hoped, and even felt refreshed by the breath of the tempest.

  About three o'clock, the whirlwind ceased; the sand, falling again upon the desert, formed numberless little hillocks, and the sky resumed its former tranquillity.

  The balloon, which had again lost its momentum, was floating in sight of an oasis, a sort of islet studded with green trees, thrown up upon the surface of this sandy ocean.

  "Water! we'll find water there!" said the doctor.

  And, instantly, opening the upper valve, he let some hydrogen escape, and slowly descended, taking the ground at about two hundred feet from the edge of the oasis.

  In four hours the travellers had swept over a distance of two hundred and forty miles!

  The car was at once ballasted, and Kennedy, closely followed by Joe, leaped out.

  "Take your guns with you!" said the doctor; "take your guns, and be careful!"

  Dick grasped his rifle, and Joe took one of the fowling-pieces. They then rapidly made for the trees, and disappeared under the fresh verdure, which announced the presence of abundant springs. As they hurried on, they had not taken notice of certain large footprints and fresh tracks of some living creature marked here and there in the damp soil.

  Suddenly, a dull roar was heard not twenty paces from them.

  "The roar of a lion!" said Joe.

  "Good for that!" said the excited hunter; "we'll fight him. A man feels strong when only a fight's in question."

  "But be careful, Mr. Kennedy; be careful! The lives of all depend upon the life of one."

  But Kennedy no longer heard him; he was pushing on, his eye blazing; his rifle cocked; fearful to behold in his daring rashness. There, under a palm-tree, stood an enormous black-maned lion, crouching for a spring on his antagonist. Scarcely had he caught a glimpse of the hunter, when he bounded through the air; but he had not touched the ground ere a bullet pierced his heart, and he fell to the earth dead.

  "Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted Joe, with wild exultation.

  Kennedy rushed toward the well, slid down the dampened steps, and flung himself at full length by the side of a fresh spring, in which he plunged his parched lips. Joe followed suit, and for some minutes nothing was heard but the sound they made with their mouths, drinking more like maddened beasts than men.

  "Take care, Mr. Kennedy," said Joe at last; "let us not overdo the thing!" and he panted for breath.

  But Kennedy, without a word, drank on. He even plunged his hands, and then his head, into the delicious tide--he fairly revelled in its coolness.

  "But the doctor?" said Joe; "our friend, Dr. Ferguson?"

  That one word recalled Kennedy to himself, and, hastily filling a flask that he had brought with him, he started on a run up the steps of the well.

  But what was his amazement when he saw an opaque body of enormous dimensions blocking up the passag
e! Joe, who was close upon Kennedy's heels, recoiled with him.

  "We are blocked in--entrapped!"

  "Impossible! What does that mean?--"

  Dick had no time to finish; a terrific roar made him only too quickly aware what foe confronted him.

  "Another lion!" exclaimed Joe.

  "A lioness, rather," said Kennedy. "Ah! ferocious brute!" he added, "I'll settle you in a moment more!" and swiftly reloaded his rifle.

  In another instant he fired, but the animal had disappeared.

  "Onward!" shouted Kennedy.

  "No!" interposed the other, "that shot did not kill her; her body would have rolled down the steps; she's up there, ready to spring upon the first of us who appears, and he would be a lost man!"

  "But what are we to do? We must get out of this, and the doctor is expecting us."

  "Let us decoy the animal. Take my piece, and give me your rifle."

  "What is your plan?"

  "You'll see."

  And Joe, taking off his linen jacket, hung it on the end of the rifle, and thrust it above the top of the steps. The lioness flung herself furiously upon it. Kennedy was on the alert for her, and his bullet broke her shoulder. The lioness, with a frightful howl of agony, rolled down the steps, overturning Joe in her fall. The poor fellow imagined that he could already feel the enormous paws of the savage beast in his flesh, when a second detonation resounded in the narrow passage, and Dr. Ferguson appeared at the opening above with his gun in hand, and still smoking from the discharge.

  Joe leaped to his feet, clambered over the body of the dead lioness, and handed up the flask full of sparkling water to his master.

  To carry it to his lips, and to half empty it at a draught, was the work of an instant, and the three travellers offered up thanks from the depths of their hearts to that Providence who had so miraculously saved them.

  Chapter Twenty-Eighth.

  An Evening of Delight.--Joe's Culinary Performance.--A Dissertation on Raw Meat.--The Narrative of James Bruce.--Camping out.--Joe's Dreams.--The Barometer begins to fall.--The Barometer rises again.--Preparations for Departure.--The Tempest.