IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
By Jules Verne
From The Works Of Jules Verne
Edited By Charles F. Horne, Ph.D.
VOLUME FOUR
IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS :
- SOUTH AMERICA
- AUSTRALIA
- NEW ZEALAND
INTRODUCTION TO VOLUME FOUR
THE three books gathered under the title “In Search of the Castaways”
occupied much of Verne’s attention during the three years following
1865. The characters used in these books were afterwards reintroduced
in “The Mysterious Island,” which was in its turn a sequel to “Twenty
Thousand Leagues Under the Sea.” Thus this entire set of books form a
united series upon which Verne worked intermittently during ten years.
“In Search of the Castaways,” which has also been published as “The
Children of Captain Grant” and as “A Voyage Around the World,” is
perhaps most interesting in connection with the last of these titles. It
is our author’s first distinctly geographical romance. By an ingenious
device he sets before the rescuers a search which compels their
circumnavigation of the globe around a certain parallel of the southern
hemisphere. Thus they cross in turn through South America, Australia and
New Zealand, besides visiting minor islands.
The three great regions form the sub-titles of the three books which
compose the story. In each region the rescuers meet with adventures
characteristic of the land. They encounter Indians in America;
bushrangers in Australia; and Maoris in New Zealand. The passage of
the searching party gives ground,--one is almost tempted to say,
excuse,--for a close and careful description of each country and of its
inhabitants, step by step. Even the lesser incidents of the story
are employed to emphasise the distinctive features of each land. The
explorers are almost frozen on the heights of the Andes, and almost
drowned in the floods of the Patagonian Pampas. An avalanche sweeps some
of them away; a condor carries off a lad. In Australia they are stopped
by jungles and by quagmires; they hunt kangaroos. In New Zealand they
take refuge amid hot sulphur springs and in a house “tabooed”; they
escape by starting a volcano into eruption.
Here then are fancy and extravagance mixed with truth and information.
Verne has done a vast and useful work in stimulating the interest not
only of Frenchmen but of all civilised nations, with regard to the
lesser known regions of our globe. He has broadened knowledge and guided
study. During the years following 1865 he even, for a time, deserted
his favorite field of labor, fiction, and devoted himself to a popular
semi-scientific book, now superseded by later works, entitled “The
Illustrated Geography of France and her Colonies.”
Verne has perhaps had a larger share than any other single individual
in causing the ever-increasing yearly tide of international travel.
And because with mutual knowledge among the nations comes mutual
understanding and appreciation, mutual brotherhood; hence Jules Verne
was one of the first and greatest of those teachers who are now leading
us toward International Peace.
IN SEARCH OF THE CASTAWAYS
or
THE CHILDREN OF CAPTAIN GRANT
SOUTH AMERICA
CHAPTER I THE SHARK
ON the 26th of July, 1864, a magnificent yacht was steaming along the
North Channel at full speed, with a strong breeze blowing from the N.
E. The Union Jack was flying at the mizzen-mast, and a blue standard
bearing the initials E. G., embroidered in gold, and surmounted by a
ducal coronet, floated from the topgallant head of the main-mast. The
name of the yacht was the DUNCAN, and the owner was Lord Glenarvan, one
of the sixteen Scotch peers who sit in the Upper House, and the
most distinguished member of the Royal Thames Yacht Club, so famous
throughout the United Kingdom.
Lord Edward Glenarvan was on board with his young wife, Lady Helena, and
one of his cousins, Major McNabbs.
The DUNCAN was newly built, and had been making a trial trip a few miles
outside the Firth of Clyde. She was returning to Glasgow, and the Isle
of Arran already loomed in the distance, when the sailor on watch caught
sight of an enormous fish sporting in the wake of the ship. Lord Edward,
who was immediately apprised of the fact, came up on the poop a few
minutes after with his cousin, and asked John Mangles, the captain, what
sort of an animal he thought it was.
“Well, since your Lordship asks my opinion,” said Mangles, “I think it
is a shark, and a fine large one too.”
“A shark on these shores!”
“There is nothing at all improbable in that,” returned the captain.
“This fish belongs to a species that is found in all latitudes and in
all seas. It is the ‘balance-fish,’ or hammer-headed shark, if I am not
much mistaken. But if your Lordship has no objections, and it would
give the smallest pleasure to Lady Helena to see a novelty in the way of
fishing, we’ll soon haul up the monster and find out what it really is.”
“What do you say, McNabbs? Shall we try to catch it?” asked Lord
Glenarvan.
“If you like; it’s all one to me,” was his cousin’s cool reply.
“The more of those terrible creatures that are killed the better, at all
events,” said John Mangles, “so let’s seize the chance, and it will not
only give us a little diversion, but be doing a good action.”
“Very well, set to work, then,” said Glenarvan.
Lady Helena soon joined her husband on deck, quite charmed at the
prospect of such exciting sport. The sea was splendid, and every
movement of the shark was distinctly visible. In obedience to the
captain’s orders, the sailors threw a strong rope over the starboard
side of the yacht, with a big hook at the end of it, concealed in a
thick lump of bacon. The bait took at once, though the shark was full
fifty yards distant. He began to make rapidly for the yacht, beating
the waves violently with his fins, and keeping his tail in a perfectly
straight line. As he got nearer, his great projecting eyes could be seen
inflamed with greed, and his gaping jaws with their quadruple row of
teeth. His head was large, and shaped like a double hammer at the end
of a handle. John Mangles was right. This was evidently a
balance-fish--the most voracious of all the SQUALIDAE species.
The passengers and sailors on the yacht were watching all the animal’s
movements with the liveliest interest. He soon came within reach of the
bait, turned over on his back to make a good dart at it, and in a second
bacon and contents had disappeared. He had hooked himself now, as the
tremendous jerk he gave the cable proved, and the sailors began to haul
in the monster by means of tackle attached to the mainyard. He struggled
desperately, but his captors were prepared for his violence, and had a
long rope ready with a slip knot, which caught his tail and rendered him
powerless at once. In a few minutes more he was hoisted up over the side
of the yacht and thrown on the deck. A man came forward immediately,
hatchet in hand, and approaching him cautiously, with one powerful
stroke cut off his tail.
This ended the business, for there was no longer any fear of the shark.
But, though the sailors’ vengeance was satisfied, their curiosity was
not; they knew the brute had no very delicate appetite, and the contents
of his stomach might be worth investigation. This is the common practice
on all ships when a shark is captured, but Lady Glenarvan declined to
be present at such a disgusting exploration, and withdrew to the cabin
again. The fish was still breathing; it measured ten feet in length, and
weighed more than six hundred pounds. This was nothing extraordinary,
for though the hammer-headed shark is not classed among the most
gigantic of the species, it is always reckoned among the most
formidable.
The huge brute was soon ripped up in a very unceremonious fashion. The
hook had fixed right in the stomach, which was found to be absolutely
empty, and the disappointed sailors were just going to throw the remains
overboard, when the boatswain’s attention was attracted by some large
object sticking fast in one of the viscera.
“I say! what’s this?” he exclaimed.
“That!” replied one of the sailors, “why, it’s a piece of rock the beast
swallowed by way of ballast.”
“It’s just a bottle, neither more nor less, that the fellow has got in
his inside, and couldn’t digest,” said another of the crew.
“Hold your tongues, all of you!” said Tom Austin, the mate of the
DUNCAN. “Don’t you see the animal has been such an inveterate tippler
that he has not only drunk the wine, but swallowed the bottle?”
“What!” said Lord Glenarvan. “Do you mean to say it is a bottle that the
shark has got in his stomach.”
“Ay, it is a bottle, most certainly,” replied the boatswain, “but not
just from the cellar.”
“Well, Tom, be careful how you take it out,” said Lord Glenarvan, “for
bottles found in the sea often contain precious documents.”
“Do you think this does?” said Major McNabbs, incredulously.
“It possibly may, at any rate.”
“Oh! I’m not saying it doesn’t. There may perhaps be some secret in it,”
returned the Major.
“That’s just what we’re to see,” said his cousin. “Well, Tom.”
“Here it is,” said the mate, holding up a shapeless lump he had managed
to pull out, though with some difficulty.
“Get the filthy thing washed then, and bring it to the cabin.”
Tom obeyed, and in a few minutes brought in the bottle and laid it on
the table, at which Lord Glenarvan and the Major were sitting ready with
the captain, and, of course Lady Helena, for women, they say, are always
a little curious. Everything is an event at sea. For a moment they all
sat silent, gazing at this frail relic, wondering if it told the tale
of sad disaster, or brought some trifling message from a frolic-loving
sailor, who had flung it into the sea to amuse himself when he had
nothing better to do.
However, the only way to know was to examine the bottle, and Glenarvan
set to work without further delay, so carefully and minutely, that he
might have been taken for a coroner making an inquest.
He commenced by a close inspection of the outside. The neck was long and
slender, and round the thick rim there was still an end of wire hanging,
though eaten away with rust. The sides were very thick, and strong
enough to bear great pressure. It was evidently of Champagne origin, and
the Major said immediately, “That’s one of our Clicquot’s bottles.”
Nobody contradicted him, as he was supposed to know; but Lady Helena
exclaimed, “What does it matter about the bottle, if we don’t know where
it comes from?”
“We shall know that, too, presently, and we may affirm this much
already--it comes from a long way off. Look at those petrifactions all
over it, these different substances almost turned to mineral, we might
say, through the action of the salt water! This waif had been tossing
about in the ocean a long time before the shark swallowed it.”
“I quite agree with you,” said McNabbs. “I dare say this frail concern
has made a long voyage, protected by this strong covering.”
“But I want to know where from?” said Lady Glenarvan.
“Wait a little, dear Helena, wait; we must have patience with bottles;
but if I am not much mistaken, this one will answer all our questions,”
replied her husband, beginning to scrape away the hard substances round
the neck. Soon the cork made its appearance, but much damaged by the
water.
“That’s vexing,” said Lord Edward, “for if papers are inside, they’ll be
in a pretty state!”
“It’s to be feared they will,” said the Major.
“But it is a lucky thing the shark swallowed them, I must say,” added
Glenarvan, “for the bottle would have sunk to the bottom before long
with such a cork as this.”
“That’s true enough,” replied John Mangles, “and yet it would have been
better to have fished them up in the open sea. Then we might have found
out the road they had come by taking the exact latitude and longitude,
and studying the atmospheric and submarine currents; but with such a
postman as a shark, that goes against wind and tide, there’s no clew
whatever to the starting-point.”
“We shall see,” said Glenarvan, gently taking out the cork. A strong
odor of salt water pervaded the whole saloon, and Lady Helena asked
impatiently: “Well, what is there?”
“I was right!” exclaimed Glenarvan. “I see papers inside. But I fear it
will be impossible to remove them,” he added, “for they appear to have
rotted with the damp, and are sticking to the sides of the bottle.”
“Break it,” said the Major.
“I would rather preserve the whole if I could.”
“No doubt you would,” said Lady Helena; “but the contents are more
valuable than the bottle, and we had better sacrifice the one than the
other.”
“If your Lordship would simply break off the neck, I think we might
easily withdraw the papers,” suggested John Mangles.
“Try it, Edward, try it,” said Lady Helena.
Lord Glenarvan was very unwilling, but he found there was no
alternative; the precious bottle must be broken. They had to get a
hammer before this could be done, though, for the stony material had
acquired the hardness of granite. A few sharp strokes, however, soon
shivered it to fragments, many of which had pieces of paper sticking to
them. These were carefully removed by Lord Glenarvan, and separated and
spread out on the table before the eager gaze of his wife and friends.
CHAPTER II THE THREE DOCUMENTS
ALL that could be discovered, however, on these pieces of paper was
a few words here and there, the remainder of the lines being almost
completely obliterated by the action of the water. Lord Glenarvan
examined them attentively for a few minutes, turning them over on all
sides, holding them up to the light, and trying to decipher the least
scrap of writing, while the others looked on with anxious eyes. At last
he said: “There are three distinct documents here, apparently copies of
the same document in three different languages. Here is one in English,
one in French, and one in German.”
“But can you make any sense out of them?” asked Lady Helena.
“That’s hard to say, my dear Helena, the words are quite incomplete.”
“Perhaps the one may supplement the other,” suggested Major McNabbs.
“Very likely they will,” said the captain. “It is impossible that
the very same words should have been effaced in each document, and by
putting the scraps together we might gather some intelligible meaning
out of them.”
“That’s what we will do,” rejoined Lord Glenarvan; “but let us proceed
methodically. Here is the English document first.”
All that remained of it was the following:
62-Brigow
sink stra
aland
skippGr
that monit of long
andssistance
lost-
“There’s not much to be made out of that,” said the Major, looking
disappointed.
“No, but it is good English anyhow,” returned the captain.
“There’s no doubt of it,” said Glenarvan. “The words SINK, ALAND, LOST
are entire; SKIPP is evidently part of the word SKIPPER, and that’s
what they call ship captains often in England. There seems a Mr. Gr.
mentioned, and that most likely is the captain of the shipwrecked
vessel.”
“Well, come, we have made out a good deal already,” said Lady Helena.
“Yes, but unfortunately there are whole lines wanting,” said the Major,
“and we have neither the name of the ship nor the place where she was
shipwrecked.”
“We’ll get that by and by,” said Edward.
“Oh, yes; there is no doubt of it,” replied the Major, who always echoed
his neighbor’s opinion. “But how?”
“By comparing one document with the other.”
“Let us try them,” said his wife.
The second piece of paper was even more destroyed than the first; only a
few scattered words remained here and there.
It ran as follows:
7 Juni Glas
zwei atrosen
graus
bringt ihnen
“This is written in German,” said John Mangles the moment he looked at
it.
“And you understand that language, don’t you?” asked Lord Glenarvan.
“Perfectly.”
“Come, then, tell us the meaning of these words.”
The captain examined the document carefully, and said:
“Well, here’s the date of the occurrence first: 7 Juni means June 7; and
if we put that before the figures 62 we have in the other document, it
gives us the exact date, 7th of June, 1862.”
“Capital!” exclaimed Lady Helena. “Go on, John!”
“On the same line,” resumed the young captain, “there is the syllable
GLAS and if we add that to the GOW we found in the English paper, we get
the whole word GLASGOW at once. The documents evidently refer to some
ship that sailed out of the port of Glasgow.”
“That is my opinion, too,” said the Major.
“The second line is completely effaced,” continued the Captain; “but
here are two important words on the third. There is ZWEI, which means
TWO, and ATROSEN or MATROSEN, the German for SAILORS.”
“Then I suppose it is about a captain and two sailors,” said Lady
Helena.
“It seems so,” replied Lord Glenarvan.
“I must confess, your Lordship, that the next word puzzles me. I can
make nothing of it. Perhaps the third document may throw some light on
it. The last two words are plain enough. BRINGT IHNEN means BRING THEM;
and, if you recollect, in the English paper we had SSISTANCE, so
by putting the parts together, it reads thus, I think: ‘BRING THEM
ASSISTANCE.’”
“Yes, that must be it,” replied Lord Glenarvan. “But where are the poor
fellows? We have not the slightest indication of the place, meantime,
nor of where the catastrophe happened.”
“Perhaps the French copy will be more explicit,” suggested Lady Helena.
“Here it is, then,” said Lord Glenarvan, “and that is in a language we
all know.”
The words it contained were these:
troi atstannia
gonie austral
abor
continpr cruel indi
jete ongit
et 37 degrees 11” LAT
“There are figures!” exclaimed Lady Helena. “Look!”
“Let us go steadily to work,” said Lord Glenarvan, “and begin at the
beginning. I think we can make out from the incomplete words in the
first line that a three-mast vessel is in question, and there is little
doubt about the name; we get that from the fragments of the other
papers; it is the BRITANNIA. As to the next two words, GONIE and
AUSTRAL, it is only AUSTRAL that has any meaning to us.”
“But that is a valuable scrap of information,” said John Mangles. “The
shipwreck occurred in the southern hemisphere.”
“That’s a wide world,” said the Major.
“Well, we’ll go on,” resumed Glenarvan. “Here is the word ABOR; that
is clearly the root of the verb ABORDER. The poor men have landed
somewhere; but where? CONTIN--does that mean continent? CRUEL!”
“CRUEL!” interrupted John Mangles. “I see now what GRAUS is part of in
the second document. It is GRAUSAM, the word in German for CRUEL!”
“Let’s go on,” said Lord Glenarvan, becoming quite excited over his
task, as the incomplete words began to fill up and develop their
meaning. “INDI,--is it India where they have been shipwrecked? And what
can this word ONGIT be part of? Ah! I see--it is LONGITUDE; and here is
the latitude, 37 degrees 11”. That is the precise indication at last,
then!”
“But we haven’t the longitude,” objected McNabbs.
“But we can’t get everything, my dear Major; and it is something at all
events, to have the exact latitude. The French document is decidedly
the most complete of the three; but it is plain enough that each is the
literal translation of the other, for they all contain exactly the same
number of lines. What we have to do now is to put together all the
words we have found, and translate them into one language, and try to
ascertain their most probable and logical sense.”
“Well, what language shall we choose?” asked the Major.
“I think we had better keep to the French, since that was the most
complete document of the three.”
“Your Lordship is right,” said John Mangles, “and besides, we’re all
familiar with the language.”
“Very well, then, I’ll set to work.”
In a few minutes he had written as follows:
7 Juin 1862 trois-mats Britannia Glasgow
sombre gonieaustral
a terre deux matelots
capitaine Gr abor
contin pr cruelindi
jete ce document de longitude
et 37 degrees 11” de latitudePortez-leur secours
perdus.
[7th of June, 1862 three-mast BRITANNIA Glasgow]
foundered gonie southern
on the coasttwo sailorsGr
Captainlanded
contin prcruel indi
thrown this documentin longitude
and 37 degrees 11” latitude Bring them assistance
lost
Just at that moment one of the sailors came to inform the captain that
they were about entering the Firth of Clyde, and to ask what were his
orders.
“What are your Lordship’s intentions?” said John Mangles, addressing
Lord Glenarvan.
“To get to Dunbarton as quickly as possible, John; and Lady Helena will
return to Malcolm Castle, while I go on to London and lay this document
before the Admiralty.”
The sailor received orders accordingly, and went out to deliver them to
the mate.
“Now, friends,” said Lord Glenarvan, “let us go on with our
investigations, for we are on the track of a great catastrophe, and the
lives of several human beings depend on our sagacity. We must give our
whole minds to the solution of this enigma.”
“First of all, there are three very distinct things to be considered
in this document--the things we know, the things we may conjecture, the
things we do not know.”
“What are those we know? We know that on the 7th of June a three-mast
vessel, the BRITANNIA of Glasgow, foundered; that two sailors and the
captain threw this document into the sea in 37 degrees 11” latitude, and
they entreat help.”
“Exactly so,” said the Major.
“What are those now we may conjecture?” continued Glenarvan. “That the
shipwreck occurred in the southern seas; and here I would draw your
attention at once to the incomplete word GONIE. Doesn’t the name of the
country strike you even in the mere mention of it?”
“Patagonia!” exclaimed Lady Helena.
“Undoubtedly.”
“But is Patagonia crossed by the 37th parallel?” asked the Major.
“That is easily ascertained,” said the captain, opening a map of South
America. “Yes, it is; Patagonia just touches the 37th parallel. It cuts
through Araucania, goes along over the Pampas to the north, and loses
itself in the Atlantic.”
“Well, let us proceed then with our conjectures. The two sailors and the
captain LAND--land where? CONTIN--on a continent; on a continent, mark
you, not an island. What becomes of them? There are two letters here
providentially which give a clew to their fate--PR, that must mean
prisoners, and CRUEL INDIAN is evidently the meaning of the next two
words. These unfortunate men are captives in the hands of cruel Indians.
Don’t you see it? Don’t the words seem to come of themselves, and fill
up the blanks? Isn’t the document quite clear now? Isn’t the sense
self-evident?”
Glenarvan spoke in a tone of absolute conviction, and his enthusiastic
confidence appeared contagious, for the others all exclaimed, too, “Yes,
it is evident, quite evident!”
After an instant, Lord Edward said again, “To my own mind the hypothesis
is so plausible, that I have no doubt whatever the event occurred on the
coast of Patagonia, but still I will have inquiries made in Glasgow, as
to the destination of the BRITANNIA, and we shall know if it is possible
she could have been wrecked on those shores.”
“Oh, there’s no need to send so far to find out that,” said John
Mangles. “I have the -Mercantile and Shipping Gazette- here, and we’ll
see the name on the list, and all about it.”
“Do look at once, then,” said Lord Glenarvan.
The file of papers for the year 1862 was soon brought, and John began
to turn over the leaves rapidly, running down each page with his eye in
search of the name required. But his quest was not long, for in a few
minutes he called out: “I’ve got it! ‘May 30, 1862, Peru-Callao, with
cargo for Glasgow, the BRITANNIA, Captain Grant.’”
“Grant!” exclaimed Lord Glenarvan. “That is the adventurous Scotchman
that attempted to found a new Scotland on the shores of the Pacific.”
“Yes,” rejoined John Mangles, “it is the very man. He sailed from
Glasgow in the BRITANNIA in 1861, and has not been heard of since.”
“There isn’t a doubt of it, not a shadow of doubt,” repeated Lord
Glenarvan. “It is just that same Captain Grant. The BRITANNIA left
Callao on the 30th of May, and on the 7th of June, a week afterward, she
is lost on the coast of Patagonia. The few broken disjointed words we
find in these documents tell us the whole story. You see, friends, our
conjectures hit the mark very well; we know all now except one thing,
and that is the longitude.”
“That is not needed now, we know the country. With the latitude alone, I
would engage to go right to the place where the wreck happened.”
“Then have we really all the particulars now?” asked Lady Helena.
“All, dear Helena; I can fill up every one of these blanks the sea has
made in the document as easily as if Captain Grant were dictating to
me.”
And he took up the pen, and dashed off the following lines immediately:
“On the 7th of June, 1862, the three-mast vessel, BRITANNIA, of Glasgow,
has sunk on the coast of Patagonia, in the southern hemisphere. Making
for the shore, two sailors and Captain Grant are about to land on the
continent, where they will be taken prisoners by cruel Indians. They
have thrown this document into the sea, in longitude and latitude 37
degrees 11”. Bring them assistance, or they are lost.”
“Capital! capital! dear Edward,” said Lady Helena. “If those poor
creatures ever see their native land again, it is you they will have to
thank for it.”
“And they will see it again,” returned Lord Glenarvan; “the statement is
too explicit, and clear, and certain for England to hesitate about going
to the aid of her three sons cast away on a desert coast. What she has
done for Franklin and so many others, she will do to-day for these poor
shipwrecked fellows of the BRITANNIA.”
“Most likely the unfortunate men have families who mourn their loss.
Perhaps this ill-fated Captain Grant had a wife and children,” suggested
Lady Helena.
“Very true, my dear, and I’ll not forget to let them know that there is
still hope. But now, friends, we had better go up on deck, as the boat
must be getting near the harbor.”
A carriage and post-horses waited there, in readiness to convey Lady
Helena and Major McNabbs to Malcolm Castle, and Lord Glenarvan bade
adieu to his young wife, and jumped into the express train for Glasgow.
But before starting he confided an important missive to a swifter agent
than himself, and a few minutes afterward it flashed along the electric
wire to London, to appear next day in the -Times and Morning Chronicle-
in the following words: “For information respecting the fate of the
three-mast vessel BRITANNIA, of Glasgow, Captain Grant, apply to Lord
Glenarvan, Malcolm Castle, Luss, Dumbartonshire, Scotland.”
CHAPTER III THE CAPTAIN’S CHILDREN
LORD GLENARVAN’S fortune was enormous, and he spent it entirely in doing
good. His kindheartedness was even greater than his generosity, for the
one knew no bounds, while the other, of necessity, had its limits. As
Lord of Luss and “laird” of Malcolm, he represented his county in the
House of Lords; but, with his Jacobite ideas, he did not care much for
the favor of the House of Hanover, and he was looked upon coldly by the
State party in England, because of the tenacity with which he clung to
the traditions of his forefathers, and his energetic resistance to the
political encroachments of Southerners. And yet he was not a man behind
the times, and there was nothing little or narrow-minded about him; but
while always keeping open his ancestral county to progress, he was a
true Scotchman at heart, and it was for the honor of Scotland that he
competed in the yacht races of the Royal Thames Yacht Club.
Edward Glenarvan was thirty-two years of age. He was tall in person, and
had rather stern features; but there was an exceeding sweetness in his
look, and a stamp of Highland poetry about his whole bearing. He was
known to be brave to excess, and full of daring and chivalry--a
Fer-gus of the nineteenth century; but his goodness excelled every other
quality, and he was more charitable than St. Martin himself, for he
would have given the whole of his cloak to any of the poor Highlanders.
He had scarcely been married three months, and his bride was Miss Helena
Tuffnell, the daughter of William Tuffnell, the great traveler, one
of the many victims of geographical science and of the passion for
discovery. Miss Helena did not belong to a noble family, but she was
Scotch, and that was better than all nobility in the eyes of Lord
Glenarvan; and she was, moreover, a charming, high-souled, religious
young woman.
Lord Glenarvan did not forget that his wife was the daughter of a great
traveler, and he thought it likely that she would inherit her father’s
predilections. He had the DUNCAN built expressly that he might take
his bride to the most beautiful lands in the world, and complete their
honeymoon by sailing up the Mediterranean, and through the clustering
islands of the Archipelago.
However, Lord Glenarvan had gone now to London. The lives of the
shipwrecked men were at stake, and Lady Helena was too much concerned
herself about them to grudge her husband’s temporary absence. A telegram
next day gave hope of his speedy return, but in the evening a letter
apprised her of the difficulties his proposition had met with, and
the morning after brought another, in which he openly expressed his
dissatisfaction with the Admiralty.
Lady Helena began to get anxious as the day wore on. In the evening,
when she was sitting alone in her room, Mr. Halbert, the house steward,
came in and asked if she would see a young girl and boy that wanted to
speak to Lord Glenarvan.
“Some of the country people?” asked Lady Helena.
“No, madame,” replied the steward, “I do not know them at all. They came
by rail to Balloch, and walked the rest of the way to Luss.”
“Tell them to come up, Halbert.”
In a few minutes a girl and boy were shown in. They were evidently
brother and sister, for the resemblance was unmistakable. The girl was
about sixteen years of age; her tired pretty face, and sorrowful eyes,
and resigned but courageous look, as well as her neat though poor
attire, made a favorable impression. The boy she held by the hand
was about twelve, but his face expressed such determination, that he
appeared quite his sister’s protector.
The girl seemed too shy to utter a word at first, but Lady Helena
quickly relieved her embarrassment by saying, with an encouraging smile:
“You wish to speak to me, I think?”
“No,” replied the boy, in a decided tone; “not to you, but to Lord
Glenarvan.”
“Excuse him, ma’am,” said the girl, with a look at her brother.
“Lord Glenarvan is not at the castle just now,” returned Lady Helena;
“but I am his wife, and if I can do anything for you--”
“You are Lady Glenarvan?” interrupted the girl.
“I am.”
“The wife of Lord Glenarvan, of Malcolm Castle, that put an announcement
in the TIMES about the shipwreck of the BRITANNIA?”
“Yes, yes,” said Lady Helena, eagerly; “and you?”
“I am Miss Grant, ma’am, and this is my brother.”
“Miss Grant, Miss Grant!” exclaimed Lady Helena, drawing the young girl
toward her, and taking both her hands and kissing the boy’s rosy cheeks.
“What is it you know, ma’am, about the shipwreck? Tell me, is my father
living? Shall we ever see him again? Oh, tell me,” said the girl,
earnestly.
“My dear child,” replied Lady Helena. “Heaven forbid that I should
answer you lightly such a question; I would not delude you with vain
hopes.”
“Oh, tell me all, tell me all, ma’am. I’m proof against sorrow. I can
bear to hear anything.”
“My poor child, there is but a faint hope; but with the help of almighty
Heaven it is just possible you may one day see your father once more.”
The girl burst into tears, and Robert seized Lady Glenarvan’s hand and
covered it with kisses.
As soon as they grew calmer they asked a complete string of questions,
and Lady Helena recounted the whole story of the document, telling them
that their father had been wrecked on the coast of Patagonia, and that
he and two sailors, the sole survivors, appeared to have reached
the shore, and had written an appeal for help in three languages and
committed it to the care of the waves.
During the recital, Robert Grant was devouring the speaker with his
eyes, and hanging on her lips. His childish imagination evidently
retraced all the scenes of his father’s shipwreck. He saw him on the
deck of the BRITANNIA, and then struggling with the billows, then
clinging to the rocks, and lying at length exhausted on the beach.
More than once he cried out, “Oh, papa! my poor papa!” and pressed close
to his sister.
Miss Grant sat silent and motionless, with clasped hands, and all she
said when the narration ended, was: “Oh, ma’am, the paper, please!”
“I have not it now, my dear child,” replied Lady Helena.
“You haven’t it?”
“No. Lord Glenarvan was obliged to take it to London, for the sake of
your father; but I have told you all it contained, word for word, and
how we managed to make out the complete sense from the fragments of
words left--all except the longitude, unfortunately.”
“We can do without that,” said the boy.
“Yes, Mr. Robert,” rejoined Lady Helena, smiling at the child’s decided
tone. “And so you see, Miss Grant, you know the smallest details now
just as well as I do.”
“Yes, ma’am, but I should like to have seen my father’s writing.”
“Well, to-morrow, perhaps, to-morrow, Lord Glenarvan will be back.
My husband determined to lay the document before the Lords of the
Admiralty, to induce them to send out a ship immediately in search of
Captain Grant.”
“Is it possible, ma’am,” exclaimed the girl, “that you have done that
for us?”
“Yes, my dear Miss Grant, and I am expecting Lord Glenarvan back every
minute now.”
“Oh, ma’am! Heaven bless you and Lord Glenarvan,” said the young girl,
fervently, overcome with grateful emotion.
“My dear girl, we deserve no thanks; anyone in our place would have done
the same. I only trust the hopes we are leading you to entertain may be
realized, but till my husband returns, you will remain at the Castle.”
“Oh, no, ma’am. I could not abuse the sympathy you show to strangers.”
“Strangers, dear child!” interrupted Lady Helena; “you and your brother
are not strangers in this house, and I should like Lord Glenarvan to be
able on his arrival to tell the children of Captain Grant himself, what
is going to be done to rescue their father.”
It was impossible to refuse an invitation given with such heart,
and Miss Grant and her brother consented to stay till Lord Glenarvan
returned.
CHAPTER IV LADY GLENARVAN’S PROPOSAL
LADY HELENA thought it best to say nothing to the children about
the fears Lord Glenarvan had expressed in his letters respecting the
decisions of the Lords of the Admiralty with regard to the document.
Nor did she mention the probable captivity of Captain Grant among the
Indians of South America. Why sadden the poor children, and damp their
newly cherished hopes? It would not in the least alter the actual
state of the case; so not a word was said, and after answering all Miss
Grant’s questions, Lady Helena began to interrogate in her turn, asking
her about her past life and her present circumstances.
It was a touching, simple story she heard in reply, and one which
increased her sympathy for the young girl.
Mary and Robert were the captain’s only children. Harry Grant lost
his wife when Robert was born, and during his long voyages he left his
little ones in charge of his cousin, a good old lady. Captain Grant was
a fearless sailor. He not only thoroughly understood navigation, but
commerce also--a two-fold qualification eminently useful to skippers in
the merchant service. He lived in Dundee, in Perthshire, Scotland. His
father, a minister of St. Katrine’s Church, had given him a thorough
education, as he believed that could never hurt anybody.
Harry’s voyages were prosperous from the first, and a few years after
Robert was born, he found himself possessed of a considerable fortune.
It was then that he projected the grand scheme which made him popular in
Scotland. Like Glenarvan, and a few noble families in the Lowlands, he
had no heart for the union with England. In his eyes the interests of
his country were not identified with those of the Anglo-Saxons, and to
give scope for personal development, he resolved to found an immense
Scotch colony on one of the ocean continents. Possibly he might have
thought that some day they would achieve their independence, as the
United States did--an example doubtless to be followed eventually by
Australia and India. But whatever might be his secret motives, such was
his dream of colonization. But, as is easily understood, the Government
opposed his plans, and put difficulties enough in his way to have killed
an ordinary man. But Harry would not be beaten. He appealed to the
patriotism of his countrymen, placed his fortune at the service of the
cause, built a ship, and manned it with a picked crew, and leaving his
children to the care of his old cousin set off to explore the great
islands of the Pacific. This was in 1861, and for twelve months, or up
to May, 1862, letters were regularly received from him, but no tidings
whatever had come since his departure from Callao, in June, and the name
of the BRITANNIA never appeared in the Shipping List.
Just at this juncture the old cousin died, and Harry Grant’s two
children were left alone in the world.
Mary Grant was then only fourteen, but she resolved to face her
situation bravely, and to devote herself entirely to her little brother,
who was still a mere child. By dint of close economy, combined with tact
and prudence, she managed to support and educate him, working day
and night, denying herself everything, that she might give him all he
needed, watching over him and caring for him like a mother.
The two children were living in this touching manner in Dundee,
struggling patiently and courageously with their poverty. Mary thought
only of her brother, and indulged in dreams of a prosperous future for
him. She had long given up all hope of the BRITANNIA, and was fully
persuaded that her father was dead. What, then, was her emotion when she
accidentally saw the notice in the TIMES!
She never hesitated for an instant as to the course she should adopt,
but determined to go to Dumbartonshire immediately, to learn the best
and worst. Even if she were to be told that her father’s lifeless body
had been found on a distant shore, or in the bottom of some abandoned
ship, it would be a relief from incessant doubt and torturing suspense.
She told her brother about the advertisement, and the two children
started off together that same day for Perth, where they took the train,
and arrived in the evening at Malcolm Castle.
Such was Mary Grant’s sorrowful story, and she recounted it in so simple
and unaffected a manner, that it was evident she never thought her
conduct had been that of a heroine through those long trying years.
But Lady Helena thought it for her, and more than once she put her arms
round both the children, and could not restrain her tears.
As for Robert, he seemed to have heard these particulars for the first
time. All the while his sister was speaking, he gazed at her with
wide-open eyes, only knowing now how much she had done and suffered for
him; and, as she ended, he flung himself on her neck, and exclaimed,
“Oh, mamma! My dear little mamma!”
It was quite dark by this time, and Lady Helena made the children go to
bed, for she knew they must be tired after their journey. They were soon
both sound asleep, dreaming of happy days.
After they had retired. Lady Helena sent for Major McNabbs, and told him
the incidents of the evening.
“That Mary Grant must be a brave girl,” said the Major.
“I only hope my husband will succeed, for the poor children’s sake,”
said his cousin. “It would be terrible for them if he did not.”
“He will be sure to succeed, or the Lords of the Admiralty must have
hearts harder than Portland stone.”
But, notwithstanding McNabbs’s assurance, Lady Helena passed the night
in great anxiety, and could not close her eyes.
Mary Grant and her brother were up very early next morning, and were
walking about in the courtyard when they heard the sound of a carriage
approaching. It was Lord Glenarvan; and, almost immediately, Lady Helena
and the Major came out to meet him.
Lady Helena flew toward her husband the moment he alighted; but he
embraced her silently, and looked gloomy and disappointed--indeed, even
furious.
“Well, Edward?” she said; “tell me.”
“Well, Helena, dear; those people have no heart!”
“They have refused?”
“Yes. They have refused me a ship! They talked of the millions that
had been wasted in search for Franklin, and declared the document was
obscure and unintelligible. And, then, they said it was two years now
since they were cast away, and there was little chance of finding them.
Besides, they would have it that the Indians, who made them prisoners,
would have dragged them into the interior, and it was impossible, they
said, to hunt all through Patagonia for three men--three Scotchmen;
that the search would be vain and perilous, and cost more lives than it
saved. In short, they assigned all the reasons that people invent
who have made up their minds to refuse. The truth is, they remembered
Captain Grant’s projects, and that is the secret of the whole affair. So
the poor fellow is lost for ever.”
“My father! my poor father!” cried Mary Grant, throwing herself on her
knees before Lord Glenarvan, who exclaimed in amazement:
“Your father? What? Is this Miss--”
“Yes, Edward,” said Lady Helena; “this is Miss Mary Grant and
her brother, the two children condemned to orphanage by the cruel
Admiralty!”
“Oh! Miss Grant,” said Lord Glenarvan, raising the young girl, “if I had
known of your presence--”
He said no more, and there was a painful silence in the courtyard,
broken only by sobs. No one spoke, but the very attitude of both
servants and masters spoke their indignation at the conduct of the
English Government.
At last the Major said, addressing Lord Glenarvan: “Then you have no
hope whatever?”
“None,” was the reply.
“Very well, then,” exclaimed little Robert, “I’ll go and speak to
those people myself, and we’ll see if they--” He did not complete his
sentence, for his sister stopped him; but his clenched fists showed his
intentions were the reverse of pacific.
“No, Robert,” said Mary Grant, “we will thank this noble lord and lady
for what they have done for us, and never cease to think of them with
gratitude; and then we’ll both go together.”
“Mary!” said Lady Helena, in a tone of surprise.
“Go where?” asked Lord Glenarvan.
“I am going to throw myself at the Queen’s feet, and we shall see if she
will turn a deaf ear to the prayers of two children, who implore their
father’s life.”
Lord Glenarvan shook his head; not that he doubted the kind heart of her
Majesty, but he knew Mary would never gain access to her. Suppliants but
too rarely reach the steps of a throne; it seems as if royal palaces
had the same inscription on their doors that the English have on their
ships: -Passengers are requested not to speak to the man at the wheel-.
Lady Glenarvan understood what was passing in her husband’s mind, and
she felt the young girl’s attempt would be useless, and only plunge the
poor children in deeper despair. Suddenly, a grand, generous purpose
fired her soul, and she called out: “Mary Grant! wait, my child, and
listen to what I’m going to say.”
Mary had just taken her brother by the hand, and turned to go away; but
she stepped back at Lady Helena’s bidding.
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