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

by Jules Verne

  "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 BRITANNIA could not have gone ten miles without meeting a fellow-countryman."

  "I am quite of your opinion, Captain John," said Paganel. "On the eastern coast Harry Grant would not only have found an English colony easily, but he would certainly 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 Adelaide. If the BRITANNIA 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 Australian continent after his shipwreck?"

  "No, Monsieur Paganel."

  "Well, granting that, what became of him? The suppositions we might make are not numerous. They are confined to three. Either Harry Grant and his companions 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 Captain 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 threatened, 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--

  "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 HECTARES."

  "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 SAVANT, "that there are but few accounts of travelers being lost in this immense country. 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 geographer, 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 SAVANTS. 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 always 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.

  "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 commenced.

  "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 suspicions were entertained of the existence of a great southern continent. In the library of your British Museum, Glenarvan, there are two charts, the date of which is 1550, which mention a country south of Asia, called by the Portuguese 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."

  "ONE," 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 christened 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, triumphantly.

  "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 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 possible 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 English 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 announced that the DUNCAN 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 continent, 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 entirely; as the sailors say, there was not enough to fill a cap.

  There was no saying how long this state of the atmosphere 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 most ominous manner, and is now at 27 degrees. This is a warning 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 between the polar and equatorial winds, which results in cyclones, tornadoes, and all those multiplied varieties of tempest against which a ship is no match."

  "Well, John," said Glenarvan, "the DUNCAN 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 prudence 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 before long the cracking of the masts, and the rattling of the cordage, and groaning of the timbers, awakened the passengers, 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 officer 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 immediately. 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 cannot remain on deck, madam, no more can Miss Mary."

  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 DUNCAN 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 Glenarvan 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

  "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 Mangles 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 DENOUEMENT 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 extricating 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 present 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 increased to a hurricane.

  John said nothing, but he trembled for his ship, and those on board. The DUNCAN made a frightful plunge forward, 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 DUNCAN forward with inconceivable rapidity to the northeast, of course in the same direction as the hurricane. Swiftness was their only chance of safety. Sometimes 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.