Adrift in the Pacific-Two Years Holiday

by Jules Verne

  ‘And if this rascal makes away with you, as he very likely will?’ asked Briant.

  ‘I escaped before, and why should I not escape again, particularly as I now know the road to French Den?

  And if I could get away with Mr. Evans—after telling him all about you—think what a help he would be to you!’

  ‘If Evans had a chance of escape,’ said Donagan, ‘would he not have gone already? Is there not every reason for his trying to save himself?’

  ‘Donagan is right,’ said Gordon. ‘Evans knows Walston’s secret, and Walston would have no hesitation in killing him as soon as he had no need of his help to guide the boat to the continent. If Evans has not slipped away from his companions by now, it is because he is too well guarded.’

  ‘Or that he has already paid with his life for an attempt at escape,’ said Donagan. ‘And so, Kate, unless you wish to be recaptured—‘

  ‘Do you think I would not do all I could to avoid being caught?’

  ‘Of course you would,’ said Briant ‘But we will never let you run the risk. No! We must seek out some less dangerous way of discovering if Walston is still on Charman Island.’

  Kate’s proposal having been rejected, there was no more to do than keep a good look-out. Evidently if Walston was able to leave the island he would do so before the wet season began, so as to reach some country where he and his companions would be welcomed, as all shipwrecked folks are welcomed, no matter whence they may come.

  If Walston was in the island he seemed to have no intention of exploring the interior. Frequently, on the dark nights, Briant Donagan, and Moko had crossed the lake in the yawl, and never had they seen a fire, either on the opposite bank, or beneath the trees down East River.

  Nevertheless, it was very irksome to live in this way— confined to the space between Zealand River, the lake, the forest and the cliff. And Briant was constantly considering how he might find out if Walston had left, or where he had lighted his camp fire.

  Perhaps he might discover this from some elevation during the night! The idea took possession of him. Unfortunately, except the cliff, which at its highest point was only two hundred feet above the sea, the island had no hills of importance. Donagan and some of the others had been to Auckland Hill, but from there they could not even see the other shore of the lake, and no smoke or glare had been seen above the horizon. It would be necessary to go a few hundred feet higher for the range of vision to extend to the rocks of Deception Bay.

  Briant then had a very hazardous idea—a mad idea it may be thought—that he would have nothing to do with at first. But it haunted him with such persistency that he eventually adopted it.

  It will be remembered that the flying of the kite had been postponed. After the arrival of Kate with the news of the survivors of the Severn at large on the eastern shore, the project of sending up into the air something that could be seen from all points of the island had been abandoned.

  But if the kite could not be used as a signal, could it not be used for the purpose of a reconnaissance so necessary to the colony’s safety?

  Yes! And that is what had seized on Briant’s imagination. He remembered having read in an English paper of a lady being lifted from the ground hanging to the tail of a kite, specially made for the purpose. Well! what a lady had done surely a boy could do! That there was a certain danger in the attempt mattered little. The risk would be nothing, compared to the result which might be obtained. If all precautions were taken that prudence required was there not a chance that the operation would succeed? That is why Briant, although he was not in a position to calculate mathematically the ascensional force required by such an apparatus, convinced himself that the apparatus would do if made larger and stronger than it had been. And then in the middle of the night he could be lifted a few hundred feet in the air, and perhaps detect the light of a fire somewhere in the district between the lake and Deception Bay.

  It was the evening of the 4th of November when he asked Gordon, Donagan, Wilcox, Webb, and Baxter to come and talk over something with him.

  He told them he proposed to make use of the kite.

  ‘What use?’ asked Wilcox. ‘By letting it up?’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Briant ‘It was made to be let up.’

  ‘During the day?’ asked Baxter.

  ‘No,’ said Briant, ‘for Walston would see it while during the night—’

  ‘But if you hang a lantern to it’ said Donagan, ‘it will attract his attention just as much.’

  ‘But I am not going to send up the lantern.’

  ‘Then what are you going to do?’ said Gordon.

  ‘I am going to see if the Severn people are still on the island.’

  And then Briant, not without some uneasiness, lest his plan should be received unfavourably, unfolded it in a few words.

  His comrades did not laugh. Gordon asked if he was speaking seriously, and the others seemed to approve of the notion. They saw nothing impossible in a nocturnal ascent of such a character. If everything was done that could be done to ensure safety, they were willing to try it

  ‘But’ said Donagan,’ the kite you have got is not big enough.’

  ‘No,’ said Briant ‘we must make it bigger and stronger.’

  ‘It remains to be seen,’ said Wilcox, ‘If a kite will resist—’

  ‘There is no doubt about that’ said Baxter.

  ‘Besides it has been done,’ said Briant. And he told them about the lady who had made the experiment.

  ‘All depends,’ he concluded, ‘on the size of the kite, and the force of the wind at the time of the ascent.’

  ‘What height are you going up to?’ asked Baxter.

  ‘I think If we get up about seven hundred feet,’ answered Briant, ‘we should see the light of a fire in any part of the island.’

  ‘Well! Let us do it,’ said Service, ‘and the sooner the better! I am tired of not being able to go where I like.’

  ‘And we all want to get out and visit our traps,’ said Wilcox.

  ‘I am tired of not being able to fire a shot,’ said Donagan.

  ‘We’ll start on it to-morrow,’ said Briant.

  A few minutes afterwards he was alone with Gordon.

  ‘Do you seriously think of going aloft in this way?’ asked the latter.

  ‘I mean to try, Gordon!’

  ‘It is a very dangerous performance.’

  ‘Less than you think, perhaps.’

  ‘And which of us is going to risk his life in the attempt?’

  ‘You first, Gordon,’ said Briant, ‘if the lot falls on you.’

  ‘Then you are going to settle it by lot?’

  ‘He who does it must do it of his own free will.’

  ‘Then your choice is already made?’

  ‘I think so.’

  And Briant clasped Gordon’s hand.

  CHAPTER IX—THE TAIL OF A KITE.

  NEXT day was the 25th of November, and early in the morning Briant and Baxter set to work. Before increasing the size of the kite it was thought well to ascertain what weight it would lift, as it was then in this way they would be able to arrive at the area necessary to lift one hundred and twenty or one hundred and thirty pounds.

  There was no need to wait for the night to make the experiment. A north-west breeze was then blowing, and Briant had only to keep the kite from going high enough to be seen across the lake. The experiment succeeded admirably, and it was found that the kite in an ordinary wind would lift a bag weighing twenty pounds.

  The kite was then brought down and laid on the ground.

  In the first place Baxter strengthened the frame very much by means of cords fastened to a central knot in the same way as an umbrella frame is strengthened, by the radial bars. Thus the surface was increased by making the frame larger and fastening new canvas on to it. In this Kate proved to be of great use. Of needles and thread there was a good supply in the stores, and Kate was an excellent needlewoman.

  Had Briant and Baxt
er been stronger In mechanics, they would have taken into consideration the principal ‘elements,’ the weight the plane surface, the centre of gravity, the centre of the wind’s pressure, which is the same as the centre of the figure, and the point to which the cord should be attached, and when these had been worked out they could have arrived at the ascensional power of the kite and the height it would attain. And the calculation would also have told them what should be the breaking strength of the cord—a condition of the utmost importance for the safety of the observer.

  Fortunately the schooner’s log-line, which was nearly two thousand feet long, came in capitally. But a kite does not pull so very much when the angle at which it is flown is properly chosen. To be used as it was going to be, the kite did not require a tail, much to the disappointment of Costar and Dole. There would be no occasion for it as the weight it would have to lift would be quite enough to keep it steady.

  After several trials, Briant and Baxter found it best to attach the weight to a cross-bar fixed a third of the way up the centre. Two cords, one at each end of this, were arranged so that the weight hung some twenty feet below the kite. Twelve hundred feet of string were wound off, and this, allowing for the slope, would let the kite fly seven or eight hundred feet above the ground.

  To provide against accident, It was resolved to let the kite up over the lake; the horizontal distance would then be fairly easy of accomplishment by a practised swimmer.

  When the kite was finished it presented a surface of about eighty square yards in the form of an octagon four feet on the side with a radial length of about fifteen. With its strong ribs, and its impermeable covering, it could easily lift a weight of a hundred and twenty pounds.

  The car in which the observer was to take up his position was one of those wicker baskets that serve so many purposes on board a yacht. It was deep enough to reach up to the armpits of an ordinary-sized boy, large enough to give him full liberty of movement and open enough for him to get out of easily, if he wanted to do so.

  As may be imagined, this was not all done in a day, nor even in two days. It was begun on the morning of the 5th, and it was finished in the afternoon of the 7th. And the trial trip was put off till the evening, when experiments would be made on its ascensional power and its degree of stability in the air.

  Meanwhile nothing had happened to change the state of affairs. Many times one or other of the boys had been on the look-out on the cliff. They had seen nothing suspicious, neither to the north, between the edge of Trap Woods and French Den, nor to the south across the stream, nor to the west on Schooner Bay side, nor on the lake. No report of firearms was heard at Auckland Hill; and no smoke appeared on the horizon.

  Were Briant and his comrades justified in hoping that Walston had left Charman Island? Was it wise for them to resume the life they had hitherto been living? The projected experiment would without doubt yield an answer to these inquiries.

  But, one question more; how was the boy in the car to let them know below when he wished to come down?

  Briant’s reply to Donagan and Gordon was as follows: —

  ‘A luminous signal would never do, for it might be seen by Walston. And Baxter and I have arranged to have a string as long as the cord, one end of which will remain on the ground and the other will be fixed to the car; on the string we are going to have a lump of lead with a hole in the middle so that it will slide up and down; the lead will go up in the car, and whoever goes up has to let it slip along the string when he wants to come down.’

  ‘That will do,’ said Donagan.

  Everything being ready, the preliminary ascent was begun. The moon would not rise till nearly two o’clock in the morning, and a good breeze was blowing from the south-west, so that the conditions were favourable.

  At nine o’clock the darkness was profound, a few thick clouds drifted across a starless sky. Whatever height the kite rose, it could not be seen, even near French Den.

  All the boys were out to see what was going on, and as the attempt was to be made ‘in blank,’ so to speak, it was with more pleasure than misgiving that they took part in the proceedings.

  The schooner’s winch had been fixed firmly in the ground on the terrace. The long line had been carefully wound on so as to run out easily with the signal string. In the car Briant had put a bag of mould weighing 130 pounds, which was greater than the weight of any of the boys.

  Donagan, Baxter, Wilcox and Webb took up their position near the kite, which lay on the ground 100 yards from the winch. When Briant gave the word, they would raise the kite by means of cords tied to the ribs, and as soon as the wind caught it, Briant, Gordon, Service, Cross, and Garnett would manage the winch so as to let out the cord as required.

  ‘Are you ready?’ asked Briant.

  ‘Ready!’ answered Donagan.

  ‘Let go!’

  The kite rose a little, quivered in the wind, and assumed the angle at which it was intended it should fly.

  ‘Let out! Let out!’ exclaimed Wilcox; and immediately the winch spun round under the tension of the line, while the kite and the basket slowly rose into space.

  Although it was a dangerous thing to do, the boys cheered as the ‘Giant of the Air’ left the ground. But soon it disappeared in the darkness, to the great disappointment of Iverson, Jenkins, Dole, and Costar, who did not want to lose sight of it while it flew over Family Lake.

  ‘You need not make yourself miserable, my papooses,’ said Kate. ‘Another time, when there is no danger, your Giant will go up in daylight, and you can messenger up to him if you like.’

  Although it could not be seen, the boys felt that the kite was drawing steadily, showing that the wind was blowing in the higher zones, and that the kite was properly balanced.

  Briant being anxious that the experiment should be as complete as circumstances permitted, let the string run out to the end. He could then find out the degree of tension, which was nothing unusual. The winch had let out 1200 feet and the kite was probably at a height of from seven to eight hundred feet which it had reached in ten minutes.

  The experiment having been completed, the boys seized hold of the handles of the winch, and began to wind in. This second part of the performance took much longer than the first, and it was quite an hour before the winding in was over.

  As in the case of a balloon, the bringing of the kite to the ground without a shock is the most delicate part of the manoeuvre. But the wind was so steady that it was accomplished with great success. The octagon came again into sight and fell gently to the ground, close to the spot from which it had started. And cheers greeted its arrival as they had saluted its departure.

  All that remained to be done was to keep it on the ground; and Baxter and Wilcox volunteered to keep guard over it till daylight.

  Next day, the 8th of November, at the same time, the first serious attempt would be made.

  The boys were only waiting for Briant’s orders to go into French Den; but he said nothing, and seemed to be absorbed in thought.

  What was he thinking of? Was it of the dangers that would have to be run in making such an ascent? Was it of the responsibility he was assuming in permitting a comrade to risk himself in the car?

  ‘Let us go in,’ said Gordon, ‘it is late.’

  ‘One moment’ said Briant ‘Gordon, Donagan! I have a proposal to make.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Donagan.

  ‘We have tried the kite,’ said Briant ‘and the trial has succeeded because the circumstances were favourable, the wind being steady, and being neither too weak nor too strong. How do we know what the weather may be like to-morrow? It seems to me it would be better not to postpone an attempt!’

  Nothing could be more reasonable. But no one replied. In view of running such a risk, hesitation was natural—even on the part of the boldest.

  Briant asked, ‘Who will go up?’

  ‘I will’ said Jack.

  And immediately, ‘I will!’ was shouted by Donagan, Baxter, Wilcox, Cros
s, and Service.

  Then came silence, which Briant was in no hurry to break.

  Jack was the first to speak.

  ‘Let me go, brother; it is for me to run the risk! Let me go!’

  ‘And why you rather than I?’ asked Donagan. ‘Why you any more than any one else?’

  ‘Yes! Why?’ asked Baxter.

  ‘Because I ought to go,’ said Jack.

  ‘You ought to go?’ asked Gordon.

  ‘Yes.’

  Gordon had caught hold of Briant’s hand as if to ask him what Jack meant, and he felt it tremble in his own, and if the night had not been so dark, he would have seen his checks grow pale, and the tears come into his eyes.

  ‘Well, brother?’ said Jack, in a tone surprisingly resolute for a boy of his age.

  ‘Answer, Briant!’ said Donagan. ‘Jack says he has a right to run the risk! But what right has he got that we have not? What does he mean?’

  ‘For what I did,’ said Jack. ‘For what I did—I will tell you—’

  ‘Jack!’ said Briant, hoping to keep his brother from explaining.

  ‘No,’ said Jack, in a voice broken by emotion. ‘Let me confess! It weighs too heavily on me! Gordon, Donagan, that you are here—all of you—far from your friends, on this island—is owing to me—I alone am the cause. The schooner drifted out to sea because I imprudently—no, jokingly—no, foolishly—cast off the ropes by which she was moored to the quay at Auckland. Yes! I intended it for a joke—but when I saw the yacht drifting away I lost my head —I did not call out when there was time—and an hour afterwards, in the middle of the night—we were out in the open sea. Oh! forgive me, forgive me!’

  And the boy burst into tears, while Kate tried all she could to console him.

  ‘Well, Jack,’ said Briant. ‘You have confessed your fault and now you would risk your life to atone for it; or rather atone for some of the evil you have done?’

  ‘But has he not done that already?’ asked Donagan, letting his natural generosity get the better of him. ‘Has he not often run into danger to do us a service? Oh! Briant I understand now why you were always putting your brother forward when there was danger to be found, and why he was always so ready to go. That is why he came after Cross and me in the fog—at the risk of his life! Yes! My dear friend Jack, we’ll forgive you, and your fault wants no more atonement.’