by Jules Verne
CHAPTER VII.
TWO DAYS AT SEA.
Perhaps--should circumstances render it necessary--I may be induced totell the Count d'Artigas that I am Simon Hart, the engineer. Who knowsbut what I may receive more consideration than if I remain WarderGaydon? This measure, however, demands reflection. I have always beendominated by the thought that if the owner of the _Ebba_ kidnapped theFrench inventor, it was in the hope of getting possession of Roch'sfulgurator, for which, neither the old nor new continent would pay theimpossible price demanded. In that case the best thing I can do is toremain Warder Gaydon, on the chance that I may be allowed to continuein attendance upon him. In this way, if Thomas Roch should everdivulge his secret, I may learn what it was impossible to do atHealthful House, and can act accordingly.
Meanwhile, where is the _Ebba_ bound?--first question.
Who and what is the Count d'Artigas?--second question.
The first will be answered in a few days' time, no doubt, in view ofthe rapidity with which we are ripping through the water, under theaction of a means of propulsion that I shall end by finding outall about. As regards the second, I am by no means so sure that mycuriosity will ever be gratified.
In my opinion this enigmatical personage has an all important reasonfor hiding his origin, and I am afraid there is no indication by whichI can gauge his nationality. If the Count d'Artigas speaks Englishfluently--and I was able to assure myself of that fact during hisvisit to Pavilion No. 17,--he pronounces it with a harsh, vibratingaccent, which is not to be found among the peoples of northernlatitudes. I do not remember ever to have heard anything like it inthe course of my travels either in the Old or New World--unless itbe the harshness characteristic of the idioms in use among the Malays.And, in truth, with his olive, verging on copper-tinted skin, hisjet-black, crinkly hair, his piercing, deep-set, restless eyes, hissquare shoulders and marked muscular development, it is by no meansunlikely that he belongs to one of the extreme Eastern races.
I believe this name of d'Artigas is an assumed one, and his title ofCount likewise. If his schooner bears a Norwegian name, he at any rateis not of Scandinavian origin. He has nothing of the races of NorthernEurope about him.
But whoever and whatever he may be, this man abducted Thomas Roch--andme with him--with no good intention, I'll be bound.
But what I should like to know is, has he acted as the agent of aforeign power, or on his own account? Does he wish to profit alone byThomas Roch's invention, and is he in the position to dispose of itprofitably? That is another question that I cannot yet answer. MaybeI shall be able to find out from what I hear and see ere I make myescape, if escape be possible.
The _Ebba_ continues on her way in the same mysterious manner. I amfree to walk about the deck, without, however, being able to go beyondthe fore hatchway. Once I attempted to go as far as the bows where Icould, by leaning over, perceive the schooner's stem as it cut throughthe water, but acting, it was plain, on orders received, the watchon deck turned me back, and one of them, addressing me brusquely inharsh, grating English, said:
"Go back! Go back! You are interfering with the working of the ship!"
With the working of the ship! There was no working.
Did they realize that I was trying to discover by what means theschooner was propelled? Very likely, and Captain Spade, who had lookedon, must have known it, too. Even a hospital attendant could not failto be astonished at the fact that a vessel without either screw orsails was going along at such a speed. However this may be, for somereason or other, the bows of the _Ebba_ are barred to me.
Toward ten o'clock a breeze springs up--a northwest wind and veryfavorable--and Captain Spade gives an order to the boatswain. Thelatter immediately pipes all hands on deck, and the mainsail, theforesail, staysail and jibs are hoisted. The work could not have beenexecuted with greater regularity and discipline on board a man-of-war.
The _Ebba_ now has a slight list to port, and her speed is notablyincreased. But the motor continues to push her along, as is evidentfrom the fact that the sails are not always as full as they oughtto be if the schooner were bowling along solely under their action.However, they continue to render yeoman's service, for the breeze hasset in steadily.
The sky is clear, for the clouds in the west disappear as soon as theyattain the horizon, and the sunlight dances on the water.
My preoccupation now is to find out as near as possible where weare bound for. I am a good-enough sailor to be able to estimatethe approximate speed of a ship. In my opinion the _Ebba_ has beentravelling at the rate of from ten to eleven knots an hour. As to thedirection we have been going in, it is always the same, and I havebeen able to verify this by casual glances at the binnacle. If thefore part of the vessel is barred to Warder Gaydon he has been alloweda free run of the remainder of it. Time and again I have glanced atthe compass, and noticed that the needle invariably pointed to theeast, or to be exact, east-southeast.
These are the conditions in which we are navigating this part of theAtlantic Ocean, which is bounded on the west by the coast of theUnited States of America.
I appeal to my memory. What are the islands or groups of islands tobe found in the direction we are going, ere the continent of the OldWorld is reached?
North Carolina, which the schooner quitted forty-eight hours ago, istraversed by the thirty-fifth parallel of latitude, and this parallel,extending eastward, must, if I mistake not, cut the African coast atMorocco. But along the line, about three thousand miles from America,are the Azores. Is it presumable that the _Ebba_ is heading for thisarchipelago, that the port to which she belongs is somewhere in theseislands which constitute one of Portugal's insular domains? I cannotadmit such an hypothesis.
Besides, before the Azores, on the line of the thirty-fifth parallel,is the Bermuda group, which belongs to England. It seems to me to be agood deal less hypothetical that, if the Count d'Artigas was entrustedwith the abduction of Thomas Roch by a European Power at all, it wasby the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland. The possibility,however, remains that he may be acting solely in his own interest.
Three or four times during the day Count d'Artigas has come aft andremained for some time scanning the surrounding horizon attentively.When a sail or the smoke from a steamer heaves in sight he examinesthe passing vessel for a considerable time with a powerful telescope.I may add that he has not once condescended to notice my presence ondeck.
Now and then Captain Spade joins him and both exchange a few words ina language that I can neither understand nor recognize.
It is with Engineer Serko, however, that the owner of the _Ebba_converses more readily than with anybody else, and the latter appearsto be very intimate with him. The engineer is a good deal more free,more loquacious and less surly than his companions, and I wonder whatposition he occupies on the schooner. Is he a personal friend of theCount d'Artigas? Does he scour the seas with him, sharing the enviablelife enjoyed by the rich yachtsman? He is the only man of the lot whoseems to manifest, if not sympathy with, at least some interest in me.
I have not seen Thomas Roch all day. He must be shut in his cabin,still under the influence of the fit that came upon him last night.
I feel certain that this is so, when about three o'clock in theafternoon, just as he is about to go below, the Count beckons me toapproach.
I do not know what he wishes to say to me, this Count d'Artigas, but Ido know what I will say to him.
"Do these fits to which Thomas Roch is subject last long?" he asks mein English.
"Sometimes forty-eight hours," I reply.
"What is to be done?"
"Nothing at all. Let him alone until he falls asleep. After a night'ssleep the fit will be over and Thomas Roch will be his own helplessself again."
"Very well, Warder Gaydon, you will continue to attend him as you didat Healthful House, if it be necessary."
"To attend to him!"
"Yes--on board the schooner--pending our arrival."
"Where?"
"Where we shall be to-morrow afternoon," replies the Count.
To-morrow, I say to myself. Then we are not bound for the coast ofAfrica, nor even the Azores. There only remains the hypothesis that weare making for the Bermudas.
Count d'Artigas is about to go down the hatchway when I interrogatehim in my turn:
"Sir," I exclaim, "I desire to know, I have the right to know, where Iam going, and----"
"Here, Warder Gaydon," he interrupted, "you have no rights. All youhave to do is to answer when you are spoken to." "I protest!"
"Protest, then," replies this haughty and imperious personage,glancing at me menacingly.
Then he disappears down the hatchway, leaving me face to face withEngineer Serko.
"If I were you, Warder Gaydon, I would resign myself to theinevitable," remarks the latter with a smile. "When one is caught in atrap----"
"One can cry out, I suppose?"
"What is the use when no one is near to hear you?"
"I shall be heard some day, sir."
"Some day--that's a long way off. However, shout as much as youplease."
And with this ironical advice, Engineer Serko leaves me to my ownreflections.
Towards four o'clock a big ship is reported about six miles off tothe east, coming in our direction. She is moving rapidly and growsperceptibly larger. Black clouds of smoke pour out of her two funnels.She is a warship, for a narrow pennant floats from her main-mast,and though she is not flying any flag I take her to be an Americancruiser.
I wonder whether the _Ebba_ will render her the customary salute asshe passes.
No; for the schooner suddenly changes her course with the evidentintention of avoiding her.
This proceeding on the part of such a suspicious yacht does notastonish me greatly. But what does cause me extreme surprise isCaptain Spade's way of manoeuvring.
He runs forward to a signalling apparatus in the bows, similar to thatby which orders are transmitted to the engine room of a steamer. Assoon as he presses one of the buttons of this apparatus the _Ebba_veers off a point to the south-west.
Evidently an order of "some kind" has been transmitted to the driverof the machine of "some kind" which causes this inexplicable movementof the schooner by the action of a motor of "some kind" the principleof which I cannot guess at.
The result of this manoeuvre is that the _Ebba_ slants away from thecruiser, whose course does not vary. Why should this warship cause apleasure-yacht to turn out of its way? I have no idea.
But the _Ebba_ behaves in a very different manner when about sixo'clock in the evening a second ship comes in sight on the port bow.This time, instead of seeking to avoid her, Captain Spade signals anorder by means of the apparatus above referred to, and resumes hiscourse to the east--which will bring him close to the said ship.
An hour later, the two vessels are only about four miles from eachother.
The wind has dropped completely. The strange ship, which is athree-masted merchantman, is taking in her top-gallant sails. It isuseless to expect the wind to spring up again during the night, andshe will lay becalmed till morning. The _Ebba_, however, propelled byher mysterious motor, continues to approach her.
It goes without saying, that Captain Spade has also begun to take insail, and the work, under the direction of the boatswain Effrondat, isexecuted with the same precision and promptness that struck me before.
When the twilight deepens into darkness, only a mile and a halfseparates the vessels.
Captain Spade then comes up to me--I am standing on the starboardside--and unceremoniously orders me to go below.
I can but obey. I remark, however, ere I go, that the boatswain hasnot lighted the head-lamps, whereas the lamps of the three-mastershine brightly--green to starboard, and red to port.
I entertain no doubt that the schooner intends to pass her withoutbeing seen; for though she has slackened speed somewhat, her directionhas not been in any way modified.
I enter my cabin under the impression of a vague foreboding. My supperis on the table, but uneasy, I know not why, I hardly touch it, andlie down to wait for sleep that does not come.
I remain in this condition for two hours. The silence is unbroken saveby the water that ripples along the vessel's sides.
My mind is full of the events of the past two days, and other thoughtscrowd thickly upon me. To-morrow afternoon we shall reach ourdestination. To-morrow, I shall resume, on land, my attendance uponThomas Roch, "if it be necessary," said the Count d'Artigas.
If, when I was thrown into that black hole at the bottom of the hold,I was able to perceive when the schooner started off across PamlicoSound, I now feel that she has come to a stop. It must be about teno'clock.
Why has she stopped? When Captain Spade ordered me below, there was noland in sight. In this direction, there is no island until the Bermudagroup is reached--at least there is none on the map--and we shall haveto go another fifty or sixty miles before the Bermudas can besighted by the lookout men. Not only has the _Ebba_ stopped, but herimmobility is almost complete. There is not a breath of wind, andscarcely any swell, and her slight, regular rocking is hardlyperceptible.
Then my thoughts turn to the merchantman, which was only a mile and ahalf off, on our bow, when I came below. If the schooner continued hercourse towards her, she must be almost alongside now. We certainlycannot be lying more than one or two cables' length from her. Thethree-master, which was becalmed at sundown, could not have gone west.She must be close by, and if the night is clear, I shall be able tosee her through the porthole.
It occurs to me, that perhaps a chance of escape presents itself. Whyshould I not attempt it, since no hope of being restored to liberty isheld out to me? It is true I cannot swim, but if I seize a life buoyand jump overboard, I may be able to reach the ship, if I am notobserved by the watch on deck.
I must quit my cabin and go up by the forward hatchway. I listen. Ihear no noise, either in the men's quarters, or on deck. The sailorsmust all be asleep at this hour. Here goes.
I try to open the door, and find it is bolted on the outside, as Imight have expected.
I must give up the attempt, which, after all, had small chance ofsuccess.
The best thing I can do, is to go to sleep, for I am weary of mind,if not of body. I am restless and racked by conflicting thoughts, andapprehensions of I know not what. Oh! if I could but sink into theblessed oblivion of slumber!
I must have managed to fall asleep, for I have just been awakened bya noise--an unusual noise, such as I have not hitherto heard on boardthe schooner.
Day begins to peer through the glass of my port-hole, which is turnedtowards the east. I look at my watch. It is half-past four.
The first thing I wonder is, whether the _Ebba_ has resumed hervoyage.
No, I am certain she has not, either by sail, or by her motor. Thesea is as calm at sunrise as it was at sunset. If the _Ebba_ has beengoing ahead while I slept, she is at any rate, stationary now.
The noise to which I referred, is caused by men hurrying to and fro ondeck--by men heavily laden. I fancy I can also hear a similar noisein the hold beneath my cabin floor, the entrance to which is situatedabaft the foremast. I also feel that something is scraping against theschooner's hull. Have boats come alongside? Are the crew engaged inloading or unloading merchandise?
And yet we cannot possibly have reached our journey's end. The Countd'Artigas said that we should not reach our destination till thisafternoon. Now, I repeat, she was, last night, fully fifty or sixtymiles from the nearest land, the group of the Bermudas. That she couldhave returned westward, and can be in proximity to the American coast,is inadmissible, in view of the distance. Moreover, I have reason tobelieve that the _Ebba_ has remained stationary all night. Before Ifell asleep, I know she had stopped, and I now know that she is notmoving.
However, I shall see when I am allowed to go on deck. My cabin door isstill bolted, I find on trying it; but I do not think they are likelyto keep me here when broad da
ylight is on.
An hour goes by, and it gradually gets lighter. I look out of myporthole. The ocean is covered by a mist, which the first rays of thesun will speedily disperse.
I can, however, see for a half a mile, and if the three-mastedmerchantman is not visible, it is probably because she is lying offthe other, or port, side of the _Ebba_.
Presently I hear a key turned in my door, and the bolts drawn. I pushthe door open and clamber up the iron ladder to the deck, just as themen are battening down the cover of the hold.
I look for the Count d'Artigas, but do not see him. He has not yetleft his cabin.
Aft, Captain Spade and Engineer Serko are superintending the stowingof some bales, which have doubtless been hoisted from the hold. Thisexplains the noisy operations that were going on when I was awakened.Obviously, if the crew are getting out the cargo, we are approachingthe end of our voyage. We are not far from port, and perhaps in a fewhours, the schooner will drop anchor.
But what about the sailing ship that was to port of us? She ought tobe in the same place, seeing that there has been and is no wind.
I look for her, but she is nowhere to be seen. There is not a sail,not a speck on the horizon either east, west, north or south.
After cogitating upon the circumstance I can only arrive at thefollowing conclusion, which, however, can only be accepted underreserve: Although I did not notice it, the _Ebba_ resumed her voyagewhile I slept, leaving the three-master becalmed behind her, and thisis why the merchantman is no longer visible.
I am careful not to question Captain Spade about it, nor even EngineerSerko, as I should certainly receive no answer.
Besides, at this moment Captain Spade goes to the signalling apparatusand presses one of the buttons on the upper disk. Almost immediatelythe _Ebba_ gives a jerk, then with her sails still furled, she startsoff eastward again.
Two hours later the Count d'Artigas comes up through the main hatchwayand takes his customary place aft. Serko and Captain Spade at onceapproach and engage in conversation with him.
All three raise their telescopes and sweep the horizon from southeastto northeast.
No one will be surprised to learn that I gaze intently in the samedirection; but having no telescope I cannot distinguish anything.
The midday meal over we all return on deck--all with the exception ofThomas Roch, who has not quitted his cabin.
Towards one o'clock land is sighted by the lookout man on the foretopcross-tree. Inasmuch as the _Ebba_ is bowling along at great speed Ishall soon be able to make out the coast line.
In effect, two hours later a vague semicircular line that curvesoutward is discernible about eight miles off. As the schoonerapproaches it becomes more distinct. It is a mountain, or at allevents very high ground, and from its summit a cloud of smoke ascends.
What! A volcano in these parts? It must then be----
