The Collected Works of Jules Verne: 36 Novels and Short Stories (Unexpurgated Edition) (Halcyon Classics)

by Jules Verne

  "Yes--you are certainly right, my child," replied Mrs. Weldon, in great anxiety.

  "And you, Mr. Benedict," asked Dick Sand, "what do you think of this project?"

  "I?" replied Cousin Benedict.

  "Yes; what is your advice?"

  "I have no advice," replied Cousin Benedict. "I find everything proposed, good, and I shall do everything that you wish. Do you wish to remain here one day or two? that suits me, and I shall employ my time in studying this shore from a purely entomological point of view."

  "Do, then, according to your wish," said Mrs. Weldon to Dick Sand. "We shall remain here, and you shall depart with old Tom."

  "That is agreed upon," said Cousin Benedict, in the most tranquil manner in the world. "As for me, I am going to pay a visit to the insects of the country."

  "Do not go far away, Mr. Benedict," said the novice. "We urge you strongly not to do it."

  "Do not be uneasy, my boy."

  "And above all, do not bring back too many musquitoes," added old Tom.

  A few moments after, the entomologist, his precious tin box strapped to his shoulders, left the grotto.

  Almost at the same time Negoro abandoned it also. It appeared quite natural to that man to, be always occupied with himself. But, while Cousin Benedict clambered up the slopes of the cliff to go to explore the border of the forest, he, turning round toward the river, went away with slow steps and disappeared, a second time ascending the steep bank.

  Jack slept all the time. Mrs. Weldon, leaving him on Nan's knees, then descended toward the strand. Dick Sand and his companions followed her. The question was, to see if the state of the sea then would permit them to go as far as the "Pilgrim's" hull, where there were still many objects which might be useful to the little troop.

  The rocks on which the schooner had been wrecked were now dry. In the midst of the _débris_ of all kinds stood the ship's carcass, which the high sea had partly covered again. That astonished Dick Sand, for he knew that the tides are only very moderate on the American sea-shore of the Pacific. But, after all, this phenomenon might be explained by the fury of the wind which beat the coast.

  On seeing their ship again, Mrs. Weldon and her companions experienced a painful impression. It was there that they had lived for long days, there that they had suffered. The aspect of that poor ship, half broken, having neither mast nor sails, lying on her side like a being deprived of life, sadly grieved their hearts. But they must visit this hull, before the sea should come to finish demolishing it.

  Dick Sand and the blacks could easily make their way into the interior, after having hoisted themselves on deck by means of the ropes which hung over the "Pilgrim's" side. While Tom, Hercules, Bat, and Austin employed themselves in taking from the storeroom all that might be useful, as much eatables as liquids, the novice made his way into the arsenal. Thanks to God, the water had not invaded this part of the ship, whose rear had remained out of the water after the stranding.

  There Dick Sand found four guns in good condition, excellent Remingtons from Purdy & Co.'s factory, as well as a hundred cartridges, carefully shut up in their cartridge-boxes. There was material to arm his little band, and put it in a state of defense, if, contrary to all expectation, the Indians attacked him on the way.

  The novice did not neglect to take a pocket-lantern; but the ship's charts, laid in a forward quarter and damaged by the water, were beyond use.

  There were also in the "Pilgrim's" arsenal some of those solid cutlasses which serve to cut up whales. Dick Sand chose six, destined to complete the arming of his companions, and he did not forget to bring an inoffensive child's gun, which belonged to little Jack.

  As to the other objects still held by the ship, they had either been dispersed, or they could no longer be used. Besides, it was useless to overburden themselves for the few days the journey would last. In food, in arms, in munitions, they were more than provided for. Meanwhile, Dick Sand, by Mrs. Weldon's advice, did not neglect to take all the money which he found on board--about five hundred dollars.

  That was a small sum, indeed! Mrs. Weldon had carried a larger amount herself and she did not find it again.

  Who, then, except Negoro, had been able to visit the ship before them and to lay hands on Captain Hull's and Mrs. Weldon's reserve? No one but he, surely, could be suspected. However, Dick Sand hesitated a moment. All that he knew and all that he saw of him was that everything was to be feared from that concentrated nature, from whom the misfortunes of others could snatch a smile. Yes, Negoro was an evil being, but must they conclude from that that he was a criminal? It was painful to Dick Sand's character to go as far as that. And, meanwhile, could suspicion rest on any other? No, those honest negroes had not left the grotto for an instant, while Negoro had wandered over the beach. He alone must be guilty. Dick Sand then resolved to question Negoro, and, if necessary, have him searched when he returned. He wished to know decidedly what to believe.

  The sun was then going down to the horizon. At that date he had not yet crossed the equator to carry heat and light into the northern hemisphere, but he was approaching it. He fell, then, almost perpendicularly to that circular line where the sea and the sky meet. Twilight was short, darkness fell promptly--which confirmed the novice in the thought that he had landed on a point of the coast situated between the tropic of Capricorn and the equator.

  Mrs. Weldon, Dick Sand, and the blacks then returned to the grotto, where they must take some hours' rest.

  "The night will still be stormy," observed Tom, pointing to the horizon laden with heavy clouds.

  "Yes," replied Dick Sand, "there is a strong breeze blowing up. But what matter, at present? Our poor ship is lost, and the tempest can no longer reach us?"

  "God's will be done!" said Mrs. Weldon.

  It was agreed that during that night, which would be very dark, each of the blacks would watch turn about at the entrance to the grotto. They could, besides, count upon Dingo to keep a careful watch.

  They then perceived that Cousin Benedict had not returned.

  Hercules called him with all the strength of his powerful lungs, and almost immediately they saw the entomologist coming down the slopes of the cliff, at the risk of breaking his neck.

  Cousin Benedict was literally furious. He had not found a single new insect in the forest--no, not one--which was fit to figure in his collection. Scorpions, scolopendras, and other myriapodes, as many as he could wish, and even more, were discovered. And we know that Cousin Benedict did not interest himself in myriapodes.

  "It was not worth the trouble," added he, "to travel five or six thousand miles, to have braved the tempest, to be wrecked on the coast, and not meet one of those American hexapodes, which do honor to an entomological museum! No; the game was not worth the candle!"

  As a conclusion, Cousin Benedict asked to go away. He did not wish to remain another hour on that detested shore.

  Mrs. Weldon calmed her large child. They made him hope that he would be more fortunate the next day, and all went to lie down in the grotto, to sleep there till sunrise, when Tom observed that Negoro had not yet returned, though night had arrived.

  "Where can he be?" asked Mrs. Weldon.

  "What matter!" said Bat.

  "On the contrary, it does matter," replied Mrs. Weldon. "I should prefer having that man still near us."

  "Doubtless, Mrs. Weldon," replied Dick Sand; "but if he has forsaken our company voluntarily, I do not see how we could oblige him to rejoin us. Who knows but he has his reasons for avoiding us forever?"

  And taking Mrs. Weldon aside, Dick Sand confided to her his suspicions. He was not astonished to find that she had them also. Only they differed on one point.

  "If Negoro reappears," said Mrs. Weldon, "he will have put the product of his theft in a safe place. Take my advice. What we had better do, not being able to convict him, will be to hide our suspicions from him, and let him believe that we are his dupes."

  Mrs. Weldon was right. Dick Sand took her
advice.

  However, Negoro was called several times.

  He did not reply. Either he was still too far away to hear, or he did not wish to return.

  The blacks did not regret being rid of his presence; but, as Mrs. Weldon had just said, perhaps he was still more to be feared afar than near. And, moreover, how explain that Negoro would venture alone into that unknown country? Had he then lost his way, and on this dark night was he vainly seeking the way to the grotto?

  Mrs. Weldon and Dick Sand did not know what to think. However it was, they could not, in order to wait for Negoro, deprive themselves of a repose so necessary to all.

  At that moment the dog, which was running on the strand, barked aloud.

  "What is the matter with Dingo?" asked Mrs. Weldon.

  "We must, indeed, find out," replied the novice. "Perhaps it is Negoro coming back."

  At once Hercules, Bat, Austin, and Dick Sand took their way to the mouth of the river.

  But, arrived at the bank, they neither saw nor heard anything. Dingo now was silent.

  Dick Sand and the blacks returned to the grotto.

  The going to sleep was organized as well as possible. Each of the blacks prepared himself to watch in turn outside. But Mrs. Weldon, uneasy, could not sleep. It seemed to her that this land so ardently desired did not give her what she had been led to hope for, security for hers, and rest for herself.

  * * * * *

  CHAPTER XV.

  HARRIS.

  The next day, April 7th, Austin, who was on guard at sunrise, saw Dingo run barking to the little river. Almost immediately Mrs. Weldon, Dick Sand and the blacks came out of the grotto.

  Decidedly there was something there.

  "Dingo has scented a living creature, man or beast," said the novice.

  "At all events it was not Negoro," observed Tom, "for Dingo would bark with fury."

  "If it is not Negoro, where can he be?" asked Mrs. Weldon, giving Dick Sand a look which was only understood by him; "and if it is not he, who, then, is it?"

  "We are going to see, Mrs. Weldon," replied the novice. Then, addressing Bat, Austin, and Hercules, "Arm yourselves, my friends, and come!"

  Each of the blacks took a gun and a cutlass, as Dick Sand had done. A cartridge was slipped into the breech of the Remingtons, and, thus armed, all four went to the bank of the river.

  Mrs. Weldon, Tom, and Acteon remained at the entrance of the grotto, where little Jack and Nan still rested by themselves.

  The sun was then rising. His rays, intercepted by the high mountains in the east, did not reach the cliff directly; but as far as the western horizon, the sea sparkled under the first fires of day.

  Dick Sand and his companions followed the strand of the shore, the curve of which joined the mouth of the river.

  There Dingo, motionless, and as if on guard, was continually barking.

  It was evident that he saw or scented some native.

  And, in fact, it was no longer against Negoro, against its enemy on board the ship, that the dog had a grudge this time.

  At that moment a man turned the last plane of the cliff. He advanced prudently to the strand, and, by his familiar gestures, he sought to calm Dingo. They saw that he did not care to face the anger of the vigorous animal.

  "It is not Negoro!" said Hercules.

  "We cannot lose by the change," replied Bat.

  "No," said the novice. "It is probably some native, who will spare us the _ennui_ of a separation. We are at last going to know exactly where we are."

  And all four, putting their guns back on their shoulders, went rapidly toward the unknown.

  The latter, on seeing them approach, at first gave signs of the greatest surprise. Very certainly, he did not expect to meet strangers on that part of the coast. Evidently, also, he had not yet perceived the remains of the "Pilgrim," otherwise the presence of the shipwrecked would very naturally be explained to him. Besides, during the night the surf had finished demolishing the ship's hull; there was nothing left but the wrecks that floated in the offing.

  At the first moment the unknown, seeing four armed men marching toward him, made a movement as if he would retrace his steps. He carried a gun in a shoulder-belt, which passed rapidly into his hand, and from his hand to his shoulder. They felt that he was not reassured.

  Dick Sand made a gesture of salutation, which doubtless the unknown understood, for, after some hesitation, he continued to advance.

  Dick Sand could then examine him with attention.

  He was a vigorous man, forty years old at the most, his eyes bright, his hair and beard gray, his skin sunburnt like that of a nomad who has always lived in the open air, in the forest, or on the plain. A kind of blouse of tanned skin served him for a close coat, a large hat covered his head, leather boots came up above his knees, and spurs with large rowels sounded from their high heels.

  What Dick Sand noticed at first--and which was so, in fact--was that he had before him, not one of those Indians, habitual rovers over the pampas, but one of those adventurers of foreign blood, often not very commendable, who are frequently met with in those distant countries.

  It also seemed, by his rather familiar attitude, by the reddish color of a few hairs of his beard, that this unknown must be of Anglo-Saxon origin. At all events, he was neither an Indian nor a Spaniard.

  And that appeared certain, when in answer to Dick Sand, who said to him in English, "Welcome!" he replied in the same language and without any accent.

  "Welcome yourself, my young friend," said the unknown, advancing toward the novice, whose hand he pressed.

  As to the blacks, he contented himself with making a gesture to them without speaking to them.

  "You are English?" he asked the novice.

  "Americans," replied Dick Sand.

  "From the South?"

  "From the North."

  This reply seemed to please the unknown, who shook the novice's hand more vigorously and this time in very a American manner.

  "And may I know, my young friend," he asked, "how you find yourself on this coast?"

  But, at that moment, without waiting till the novice had replied to his question, the unknown took off his hat and bowed.

  Mrs. Weldon had advanced as far as the steep bank, and she then found herself facing him.

  It was she who replied to this question.

  "Sir," said she, "we are shipwrecked ones whose ship was broken to pieces yesterday on these reefs."

  An expression of pity spread over the unknown's face, whose eyes sought the vessel which had been stranded.

  "There is nothing left of our ship," added the novice. "The surf has finished the work of demolishing it during the night."

  "And our first question," continued Mrs. Weldon, "will be to ask you where we are."

  "But you are on the sea-coast of South America," replied the unknown, who appeared surprised at the question. "Can you have any doubt about that?"

  "Yes, sir, for the tempest had been able to make us deviate from our route," replied Dick Sand. "But I shall ask where we are more exactly. On the coast of Peru, I think."

  "No, my young friend, no! A little more to the south! You are wrecked on the Bolivian coast."

  "Ah!" exclaimed Dick Sand.

  "And you are even on that southern part of Bolivia which borders on Chili."

  "Then what is that cape?" asked Dick Sand, pointing to the promontory on the north.

  "I cannot tell you the name," replied the unknown, "for if I know the country in the interior pretty well from having often traversed it, it is my first visit to this shore."

  Dick Sand reflected on what he had just learned. That only half astonished him, for his calculation might have, and indeed must have, deceived him, concerning the currents; but the error was not considerable. In fact, he believed himself somewhere between the twenty-seventh and the thirtieth parallel, from the bearings he had taken from the Isle of Paques, and it was on the twenty-fifth parallel that he was wrecked. There was
no impossibility in the "Pilgrim's" having deviated by relatively small digression, in such a long passage.

  Besides, there was no reason to doubt the unknown's assertions, and, as that coast was that of lower Bolivia there was nothing astonishing in its being so deserted.

  "Sir," then said Dick Sand, "after your reply I must conclude that we are at a rather great distance from Lima."

  "Oh! Lima is far away--over there--in the north!"

  Mrs. Weldon, made suspicious first of all by Negoro's disappearance, observed the newly-arrived with extreme attention; but she could discover nothing, either in his attitude or in his manner of expressing himself which could lead her to suspect his good faith.

  "Sir," said she, "without doubt my question is not rash. You do not seem to be of Peruvian origin?"

  "I am American as you are, madam," said the unknown, who waited for an instant for the American lady to tell him her name.

  "Mrs. Weldon," replied the latter.

  "I? My name is Harris and I was born in South Carolina. But here it is twenty years since I left my country for the pampas of Bolivia, and it gives me pleasure to see compatriots."

  "You live in this part of the province, Mr. Harris?" again asked Mrs. Weldon.

  "No, Mrs. Weldon," replied Harris, "I live in the South, on the Chilian frontier; but at this present moment I am going to Atacama, in the northeast."

  "Are we then on the borders of the desert of that name?" asked Dick Sand.

  "Precisely, my young friend, and this desert extends far beyond the mountains which shut off the horizon."

  "The desert of Atacama?" repeated Dick Sand.

  "Yes," replied Harris. "This desert is like a country by itself, in this vast South America, from which it differs in many respects. It is, at the same time, the most curious and the least known portion of this continent."