The young wife went up to her husband, and said, with tears in her eyes,
though her voice was firm, and her face beamed with animation: “Edward,
when Captain Grant wrote that letter and threw it into the sea,
he committed it to the care of God. God has sent it to us--to us!
Undoubtedly God intends us to undertake the rescue of these poor men.”
“What do you mean, Helena?”
“I mean this, that we ought to think ourselves fortunate if we can begin
our married life with a good action. Well, you know, Edward, that to
please me you planned a pleasure trip; but what could give us such
genuine pleasure, or be so useful, as to save those unfortunate fellows,
cast off by their country?”
“Helena!” exclaimed Lord Glenarvan.
“Yes, Edward, you understand me. The DUNCAN is a good strong ship, she
can venture in the Southern Seas, or go round the world if necessary.
Let us go, Edward; let us start off and search for Captain Grant!”
Lord Glenarvan made no reply to this bold proposition, but smiled, and,
holding out his arms, drew his wife into a close, fond embrace. Mary and
Robert seized her hands, and covered them with kisses; and the servants
who thronged the courtyard, and had been witnesses of this touching
scene, shouted with one voice, “Hurrah for the Lady of Luss. Three
cheers for Lord and Lady Glenarvan!”
CHAPTER V THE DEPARTURE OF THE “DUNCAN”
WE have said already that Lady Helena was a brave, generous woman, and
what she had just done proved it in-disputably. Her husband had good
reason to be proud of such a wife, one who could understand and enter
into all his views. The idea of going to Captain Grant’s rescue had
occurred to him in London when his request was refused, and he would
have anticipated Lady Helena, only he could not bear the thought
of parting from her. But now that she herself proposed to go, all
hesitation was at an end. The servants of the Castle had hailed
the project with loud acclamations--for it was to save their
brothers--Scotchmen, like themselves--and Lord Glenarvan cordially
joined his cheers with theirs, for the Lady of Luss.
The departure once resolved upon, there was not an hour to be lost. A
telegram was dispatched to John Mangles the very same day, conveying
Lord Glenarvan’s orders to take the DUNCAN immediately to Glasgow, and
to make preparations for a voyage to the Southern Seas, and possibly
round the world, for Lady Helena was right in her opinion that the yacht
might safely attempt the circumnavigation of the globe, if necessary.
The DUNCAN was a steam yacht of the finest description. She was 210
tons burden--much larger than any of the first vessels that touched the
shores of the New World, for the largest of the four ships that sailed
with Columbus was only 70 tons. She had two masts and all the sails and
rigging of an ordinary clipper, which would enable her to take advantage
of every favorable wind, though her chief reliance was on her mechanical
power. The engine, which was constructed on a new system, was a
high-pressure one, of 160-horse power, and put in motion a double screw.
This gave the yacht such swiftness that during her trial trip in the
Firth of Clyde, she made seventeen miles an hour, a higher speed than
any vessel had yet attained. No alterations were consequently needed
in the DUNCAN herself; John Mangles had only to attend to her interior
arrangements.
His first care was to enlarge the bunkers to carry as much coal as
possible, for it is difficult to get fresh supplies -en route-. He
had to do the same with the store-rooms, and managed so well that
he succeeded in laying in provisions enough for two years. There was
abundance of money at his command, and enough remained to buy a cannon,
on a pivot carriage, which he mounted on the forecastle. There was no
knowing what might happen, and it is always well to be able to send a
good round bullet flying four miles off.
John Mangles understood his business. Though he was only the captain
of a pleasure yacht, he was one of the best skippers in Glasgow. He
was thirty years of age, and his countenance expressed both courage and
goodness, if the features were somewhat coarse. He had been brought
up at the castle by the Glenarvan family, and had turned out a capital
sailor, having already given proof, in some of his long voyages, of his
skill and energy and -sang-froid-. When Lord Glenarvan offered him the
command of the DUNCAN, he accepted it with right good will, for he loved
the master of Malcolm Castle, like a brother, and had hitherto vainly
sought some opportunity of showing his devotion.
Tom Austin, the mate, was an old sailor, worthy of all confidence. The
crew, consisting of twenty-five men, including the captain and chief
officer, were all from Dumbartonshire, experienced sailors, and all
belonging to the Glenarvan estate; in fact, it was a regular clan, and
they did not forget to carry with them the traditional bagpipes.
Lord Glenarvan had in them a band of trusty fellows, skilled in their
calling, devoted to himself, full of courage, and as practiced in
handling fire-arms as in the maneuvering of a ship; a valiant little
troop, ready to follow him any where, even in the most dangerous
expeditions. When the crew heard whither they were bound, they could not
restrain their enthusiasm, and the rocks of Dumbarton rang again with
their joyous outbursts of cheers.
But while John Mangles made the stowage and provisioning of the yacht
his chief business, he did not forget to fit up the rooms of Lord and
Lady Glenarvan for a long voyage. He had also to get cabins ready for
the children of Captain Grant, as Lady Helena could not refuse Mary’s
request to accompany her.
As for young Robert, he would have smuggled himself in somewhere in the
hold of the DUNCAN rather than be left behind. He would willingly have
gone as cabin-boy, like Nelson. It was impossible to resist a little
fellow like that, and, indeed, no one tried. He would not even go as a
passenger, but must serve in some capacity, as cabin-boy, apprentice or
sailor, he did not care which, so he was put in charge of John Mangles,
to be properly trained for his vocation.
“And I hope he won’t spare me the ‘cat-o-nine-tails’ if I don’t do
properly,” said Robert.
“Rest easy on that score, my boy,” said Lord Glenarvan, gravely; he did
not add, that this mode of punishment was forbidden on board the DUNCAN,
and moreover, was quite unnecessary.
To complete the roll of passengers, we must name Major McNabbs. The
Major was about fifty years of age, with a calm face and regular
features--a man who did whatever he was told, of an excellent, indeed,
a perfect temper; modest, silent, peaceable, and amiable, agreeing with
everybody on every subject, never discussing, never disputing, never
getting angry. He wouldn’t move a step quicker, or slower, whether he
walked upstairs to bed or mounted a breach. Nothing could excite him,
nothing could disturb him, not even a cannon ball, and no doubt he will
die without ever having known even a passing feeling of irritation.
This man was endowed in an eminent degree, not only with ordinary animal
courage, that physical bravery of the battle-field, which is solely
due to muscular energy, but he had what is far nobler--moral courage,
firmness of soul. If he had any fault it was his being so intensely
Scotch from top to toe, a Caledonian of the Caledonians, an obstinate
stickler for all the ancient customs of his country. This was the reason
he would never serve in England, and he gained his rank of Major in the
42nd regiment, the Highland Black Watch, composed entirely of Scotch
noblemen.
As a cousin of Glenarvan, he lived in Malcolm Castle, and as a major he
went as a matter of course with the DUNCAN.
Such, then, was the PERSONNEL of this yacht, so unexpectedly called to
make one of the most wonderful voyages of modern times. From the hour
she reached the steamboat quay at Glasgow, she completely monopolized
the public attention. A considerable crowd visited her every day, and
the DUNCAN was the one topic of interest and conversation, to the great
vexation of the different captains in the port, among others of Captain
Burton, in command of the SCOTIA, a magnificent steamer lying close
beside her, and bound for Calcutta. Considering her size, the SCOTIA
might justly look upon the DUNCAN as a mere fly-boat, and yet this
pleasure yacht of Lord Glenarvan was quite the center of attraction, and
the excitement about her daily increased.
The DUNCAN was to sail out with the tide at three o’clock on the morning
of the 25th of August. But before starting, a touching ceremony was
witnessed by the good people of Glasgow. At eight o’clock the night
before, Lord Glenarvan and his friends, and the entire crew, from
the stokers to the captain, all who were to take part in this
self-sacrificing voyage, left the yacht and repaired to St. Mungo’s, the
ancient cathedral of the city. This venerable edifice, so marvelously
described by Walter Scott, remains intact amid the ruins made by the
Reformation; and it was there, beneath its lofty arches, in the grand
nave, in the presence of an immense crowd, and surrounded by tombs as
thickly set as in a cemetery, that they all assembled to implore the
blessing of Heaven on their expedition, and to put themselves under the
protection of Providence. The Rev. Mr. Morton conducted the service, and
when he had ended and pronounced the benediction, a young girl’s voice
broke the solemn silence that followed. It was Mary Grant who poured
out her heart to God in prayer for her benefactors, while grateful happy
tears streamed down her cheeks, and almost choked her utterance. The
vast assembly dispersed under the influence of deep emotion, and at ten
o’clock the passengers and crew returned on board the vessel.
CHAPTER VI AN UNEXPECTED PASSENGER
THE ladies passed the whole of the first day of the voyage in their
berths, for there was a heavy swell in the sea, and toward evening the
wind blew pretty fresh, and the DUNCAN tossed and pitched considerably.
But the morning after, the wind changed, and the captain ordered the men
to put up the foresail, and brigantine and foretopsail, which greatly
lessened the rolling of the vessel. Lady Helena and Mary Grant were
able to come on deck at daybreak, where they found Lord Glenarvan, Major
McNabbs and the captain.
“And how do you stand the sea, Miss Mary?” said Lord Glenarvan.
“Pretty well, my Lord. I am not very much inconvenienced by it. Besides
I shall get used to it.”
“And our young Robert!”
“Oh, as for Robert,” said the captain, “whenever he is not poking about
down below in the engine-room, he is perched somewhere aloft among the
rigging. A youngster like that laughs at sea-sickness. Why, look at him
this very moment! Do you see him?”
The captain pointed toward the foremast, and sure enough there was
Robert, hanging on the yards of the topgallant mast, a hundred feet
above in the air. Mary involuntarily gave a start, but the captain said:
“Oh, don’t be afraid, Miss Mary; he is all right, take my word for it;
I’ll have a capital sailor to present to Captain Grant before long, for
we’ll find the worthy captain, depend upon it.”
“Heaven grant it, Mr. John,” replied the young girl.
“My dear child,” said Lord Glenarvan, “there is something so
providential in the whole affair, that we have every reason to hope. We
are not going, we are led; we are not searching, we are guided. And
then see all the brave men that have enlisted in the service of the good
cause. We shall not only succeed in our enterprise, but there will be
little difficulty in it. I promised Lady Helena a pleasure trip, and I
am much mistaken if I don’t keep my word.”
“Edward,” said his wife, “you are the best of men.”
“Not at all,” was the reply; “but I have the best of crews and the best
of ships. You don’t admire the DUNCAN, I suppose, Miss Mary?”
“On the contrary, my lord, I do admire her, and I’m a connoisseur in
ships,” returned the young girl.
“Indeed!”
“Yes. I have played all my life on my father’s ships. He should have
made me a sailor, for I dare say, at a push, I could reef a sail or
plait a gasket easily enough.”
“Do you say so, miss?” exclaimed John Mangles.
“If you talk like that you and John will be great friends, for he can’t
think any calling is equal to that of a seaman; he can’t fancy any
other, even for a woman. Isn’t it true, John?”
“Quite so,” said the captain, “and yet, your Lordship, I must confess
that Miss Grant is more in her place on the poop than reefing a topsail.
But for all that, I am quite flattered by her remarks.”
“And especially when she admires the DUNCAN,” replied Glenarvan.
“Well, really,” said Lady Glenarvan, “you are so proud of your yacht
that you make me wish to look all over it; and I should like to go down
and see how our brave men are lodged.”
“Their quarters are first-rate,” replied John, “they are as comfortable
as if they were at home.”
“And they really are at home, my dear Helena,” said Lord Glenarvan.
“This yacht is a portion of our old Caledonia, a fragment of
Dumbartonshire, making a voyage by special favor, so that in a manner
we are still in our own country. The DUNCAN is Malcolm Castle, and the
ocean is Loch Lomond.”
“Very well, dear Edward, do the honors of the Castle then.”
“At your service, madam; but let me tell Olbinett first.”
The steward of the yacht was an excellent -maitre d’hotel-, and might
have been French for his airs of importance, but for all that he
discharged his functions with zeal and intelligence.
“Olbinett,” said his master, as he appeared in answer to his summons,
“we are going to have a turn before breakfast. I hope we shall find it
ready when we come back.”
He said this just as if it had been a walk to Tarbert or Loch Katrine
they were going, and the steward bowed with perfect gravity in reply.
“Are you coming with us, Major?” asked Lady Helena.
“If you command me,” replied McNabbs.
“Oh!” said Lord Glenarvan; “the Major is absorbed in his cigar; you
mustn’t tear him from it. He is an inveterate smoker, Miss Mary, I can
tell you. He is always smoking, even while he sleeps.”
The Major gave an assenting nod, and Lord Glenarvan and his party went
below.
McNabbs remained alone, talking to himself, as was his habit, and was
soon enveloped in still thicker clouds of smoke. He stood motionless,
watching the track of the yacht. After some minutes of this silent
contemplation he turned round, and suddenly found himself face to face
with a new comer. Certainly, if any thing could have surprised him, this
RENCONTRE would, for he had never seen the stranger in his life before.
He was a tall, thin, withered-looking man, about forty years of age, and
resembled a long nail with a big head. His head was large and massive,
his forehead high, his chin very marked. His eyes were concealed by
enormous round spectacles, and in his look was that peculiar
indecision which is common to nyctalopes, or people who have a peculiar
construction of the eye, which makes the sight imperfect in the day
and better at night. It was evident from his physiognomy that he was
a lively, intelligent man; he had not the crabbed expression of
those grave individuals who never laugh on principle, and cover their
emptiness with a mask of seriousness. He looked far from that. His
careless, good-humored air, and easy, unceremonious manners, showed
plainly that he knew how to take men and things on their bright side.
But though he had not yet opened his mouth, he gave one the impression
of being a great talker, and moreover, one of those absent folks who
neither see though they are looking, nor hear though they are listening.
He wore a traveling cap, and strong, low, yellow boots with leather
gaiters. His pantaloons and jacket were of brown velvet, and their
innumerable pockets were stuffed with note-books, memorandum-books,
account-books, pocket-books, and a thousand other things equally
cumbersome and useless, not to mention a telescope in addition, which he
carried in a shoulder-belt.
The stranger’s excitement was a strong contrast to the Major’s
placidity. He walked round McNabbs, looking at him and questioning
him with his eyes without eliciting one remark from the imperturbable
Scotchman, or awakening his curiosity in the least, to know where he
came from, and where he was going, and how he had got on board the
DUNCAN.
Finding all his efforts baffled by the Major’s indifference, the
mysterious passenger seized his telescope, drew it out to its fullest
extent, about four feet, and began gazing at the horizon, standing
motionless with his legs wide apart. His examination lasted some few
minutes, and then he lowered the glass, set it up on deck, and leaned on
it as if it had been a walking-stick. Of course, his weight shut up
the instrument immediately by pushing the different parts one into
the other, and so suddenly, that he fell full length on deck, and lay
sprawling at the foot of the mainmast.
Any one else but the Major would have smiled, at least, at such a
ludicrous sight; but McNabbs never moved a muscle of his face.
This was too much for the stranger, and he called out, with an
unmistakably foreign accent:
“Steward!”
He waited a minute, but nobody appeared, and he called again, still
louder, “Steward!”
Mr. Olbinett chanced to be passing that minute on his way from the
galley, and what was his astonishment at hearing himself addressed like
this by a lanky individual of whom he had no knowledge whatever.
“Where can he have come from? Who is he?” he thought to himself. “He can
not possibly be one of Lord Glenarvan’s friends?”
However, he went up on the poop, and approached the unknown personage,
who accosted him with the inquiry, “Are you the steward of this vessel?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Olbinett; “but I have not the honor of--”
“I am the passenger in cabin Number 6.”
“Number 6!” repeated the steward.
“Certainly; and your name, what is it?”
“Olbinett.”
“Well, Olbinett, my friend, we must think of breakfast, and that pretty
quickly. It is thirty-six hours since I have had anything to eat, or
rather thirty-six hours that I have been asleep--pardonable enough in a
man who came all the way, without stopping, from Paris to Glasgow. What
is the breakfast hour?”
“Nine o’clock,” replied Olbinett, mechanically.
The stranger tried to pull out his watch to see the time; but it was not
till he had rummaged through the ninth pocket that he found it.
“Ah, well,” he said, “it is only eight o’clock at present. Fetch me
a glass of sherry and a biscuit while I am waiting, for I am actually
falling through sheer inanition.”
Olbinett heard him without understanding what he meant for the voluble
stranger kept on talking incessantly, flying from one subject to
another.
“The captain? Isn’t the captain up yet? And the chief officer? What is
he doing? Is he asleep still? It is fine weather, fortunately, and the
wind is favorable, and the ship goes all alone.”
Just at that moment John Mangles appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Here is the captain!” said Olbinett.
“Ah! delighted, Captain Burton, delighted to make your acquaintance,”
exclaimed the unknown.
John Mangles stood stupefied, as much at seeing the stranger on board as
at hearing himself called “Captain Burton.”
But the new comer went on in the most affable manner.
“Allow me to shake hands with you, sir; and if I did not do so yesterday
evening, it was only because I did not wish to be troublesome when you
were starting. But to-day, captain, it gives me great pleasure to begin
my intercourse with you.”
John Mangles opened his eyes as wide as possible, and stood staring at
Olbinett and the stranger alternately.
But without waiting for a reply, the rattling fellow continued:
“Now the introduction is made, my dear captain, we are old friends.
Let’s have a little talk, and tell me how you like the SCOTIA?”
“What do you mean by the SCOTIA?” put in John Mangles at last.
“By the SCOTIA? Why, the ship we’re on, of course--a good ship that has
been commended to me, not only for its physical qualities, but also for
the moral qualities of its commander, the brave Captain Burton. You will
be some relation of the famous African traveler of that name. A daring
man he was, sir. I offer you my congratulations.”
“Sir,” interrupted John. “I am not only no relation of Burton the great
traveler, but I am not even Captain Burton.”
“Ah, is that so? It is Mr. Burdness, the chief officer, that I am
talking to at present.”
“Mr. Burdness!” repeated John Mangles, beginning to suspect how the
matter stood. Only he asked himself whether the man was mad, or
some heedless rattle pate? He was beginning to explain the case in a
categorical manner, when Lord Glenarvan and his party came up on the
poop. The stranger caught sight of them directly, and exclaimed:
“Ah! the passengers, the passengers! I hope you are going to introduce
me to them, Mr. Burdness!”
But he could not wait for any one’s intervention, and going up to them
with perfect ease and grace, said, bowing to Miss Grant, “Madame;” then
to Lady Helena, with another bow, “Miss;” and to Lord Glenarvan, “Sir.”
Here John Mangles interrupted him, and said, “Lord Glenarvan.”
“My Lord,” continued the unknown, “I beg pardon for presenting myself
to you, but at sea it is well to relax the strict rules of etiquette a
little. I hope we shall soon become acquainted with each other, and that
the company of these ladies will make our voyage in the SCOTIA appear as
short as agreeable.”
Lady Helena and Miss Grant were too astonished to be able to utter a
single word. The presence of this intruder on the poop of the DUNCAN was
perfectly inexplicable.
Lord Glenarvan was more collected, and said, “Sir, to whom have I the
honor of speaking?”
“To Jacques Eliacin Francois Marie Paganel, Secretary of the
Geographical Society of Paris, Corresponding Member of the Societies of
Berlin, Bombay, Darmstadt, Leipsic, London, St. Petersburg, Vienna, and
New York; Honorary Member of the Royal Geographical and Ethnographical
Institute of the East Indies; who, after having spent twenty years
of his life in geographical work in the study, wishes to see active
service, and is on his way to India to gain for the science what
information he can by following up the footsteps of great travelers.”
CHAPTER VII JACQUES PAGANEL IS UNDECEIVED
THE Secretary of the Geographical Society was evidently an amiable
personage, for all this was said in a most charming manner. Lord
Glenarvan knew quite well who he was now, for he had often heard Paganel
spoken of, and was aware of his merits. His geographical works, his
papers on modern discoveries, inserted in the reports of the Society,
and his world-wide correspondence, gave him a most distinguished place
among the LITERATI of France.
Lord Glenarvan could not but welcome such a guest, and shook hands
cordially.
“And now that our introductions are over,” he added, “you will allow me,
Monsieur Paganel, to ask you a question?”
“Twenty, my Lord,” replied Paganel; “it will always be a pleasure to
converse with you.”
“Was it last evening that you came on board this vessel?”
“Yes, my Lord, about 8 o’clock. I jumped into a cab at the Caledonian
Railway, and from the cab into the SCOTIA, where I had booked my cabin
before I left Paris. It was a dark night, and I saw no one on board, so
I found cabin No. 6, and went to my berth immediately, for I had heard
that the best way to prevent sea-sickness is to go to bed as soon as you
start, and not to stir for the first few days; and, moreover, I had
been traveling for thirty hours. So I tucked myself in, and slept
conscientiously, I assure you, for thirty-six hours.”
Paganel’s listeners understood the whole mystery, now, of his presence
on the DUNCAN. The French traveler had mistaken his vessel, and gone on
board while the crew were attending the service at St. Mungo’s. All was
explained. But what would the learned geographer say, when he heard the
name and destination of the ship, in which he had taken passage?
“Then it is Calcutta, M. Paganel, that you have chosen as your point of
departure on your travels?”
“Yes, my Lord, to see India has been a cherished purpose with me all my
life. It will be the realization of my fondest dreams, to find myself in
the country of elephants and Thugs.”
“Then it would be by no means a matter of indifference to you, to visit
another country instead.”
“No, my Lord; indeed it would be very disagreeable, for I have letters
from Lord Somerset, the Governor-General, and also a commission to
execute for the Geographical Society.”
“Ah, you have a commission.”
“Yes, I have to attempt a curious and important journey, the plan of
which has been drawn up by my learned friend and colleague, M. Vivien de
Saint Martin. I am to pursue the track of the Schlaginweit Brothers;
and Colonels Waugh and Webb, and Hodgson; and Huc and Gabet, the
missionaries; and Moorecroft and M. Jules Remy, and so many celebrated
travelers. I mean to try and succeed where Krick, the missionary so
unfortunately failed in 1846; in a word, I want to follow the course
of the river Yarou-Dzangbo-Tchou, which waters Thibet for a distance of
1500 kilometres, flowing along the northern base of the Himalayas,
and to find out at last whether this river does not join itself to the
Brahmapoutre in the northeast of As-sam. The gold medal, my Lord, is
promised to the traveler who will succeed in ascertaining a fact which
is one of the greatest DESIDERATA to the geography of India.”
Paganel was magnificent. He spoke with superb animation, soaring away on
the wings of imagination. It would have been as impossible to stop him
as to stop the Rhine at the Falls of Schaffhausen.
“Monsieur Jacques Paganel,” said Lord Glenarvan, after a brief pause,
“that would certainly be a grand achievement, and you would confer a
great boon on science, but I should not like to allow you to be laboring
under a mistake any longer, and I must tell you, therefore, that for the
present at least, you must give up the pleasure of a visit to India.”
“Give it up. And why?”
“Because you are turning your back on the Indian peninsula.”
“What! Captain Burton.”
“I am not Captain Burton,” said John Mangles.
“But the SCOTIA.”
“This vessel is not the SCOTIA.”
It would be impossible to depict the astonishment of Paganel. He stared
first at one and then at another in the utmost bewilderment.
Lord Glenarvan was perfectly grave, and Lady Helena and Mary showed
their sympathy for his vexation by their looks. As for John Mangles,
he could not suppress a smile; but the Major appeared as unconcerned as
usual. At last the poor fellow shrugged his shoulders, pushed down his
spectacles over his nose and said:
“You are joking.”
But just at that very moment his eye fell on the wheel of the ship, and
he saw the two words on it: Duncan.
Glasgow.
“The DUNCAN! the DUNCAN!” he exclaimed, with a cry of despair, and
forthwith rushed down the stairs, and away to his cabin.
As soon as the unfortunate SAVANT had disappeared, every one, except the
Major, broke out into such peals of laughter that the sound reached the
ears of the sailors in the forecastle. To mistake a railway or to take
the train to Edinburgh when you want to go to Dumbarton might happen;
but to mistake a ship and be sailing for Chili when you meant to go to
India--that is a blunder indeed!
“However,” said Lord Glenarvan, “I am not much astonished at it in
Paganel. He is quite famous for such misadventures. One day he published
a celebrated map of America, and put Japan in it! But for all that, he
is distinguished for his learning, and he is one of the best geographers
in France.”
“But what shall we do with the poor gentleman?” said Lady Helena; “we
can’t take him with us to Patagonia.”
“Why not?” replied McNabbs, gravely. “We are not responsible for his
heedless mistakes. Suppose he were in a railway train, would they stop
it for him?”
“No, but he would get out at the first station.”
“Well, that is just what he can do here, too, if he likes; he can
disembark at the first place where we touch.”
While they were talking, Paganel came up again on the poop, looking very
woebegone and crestfallen. He had been making inquiry about his
luggage, to assure himself that it was all on board, and kept repeating
incessantly the unlucky words, “The DUNCAN! the DUNCAN!”
He could find no others in his vocabulary. He paced restlessly up and
down; sometimes stopping to examine the sails, or gaze inquiringly over
the wide ocean, at the far horizon. At length he accosted Lord Glenarvan
once more, and said--
“And this DUNCAN--where is she going?”
“To America, Monsieur Paganel,” was the reply.
“And to what particular part?”
“To Concepcion.”
“To Chili! to Chili!” cried the unfortunate geographer. “And my mission
to India. But what will M. de Quatre-fages, the President of the Central
Commission, say? And M. d’ Avezac? And M. Cortanbert? And M. Vivien de
Saint Martin? How shall I show my face at the SEANCES of the Society?”
“Come, Monsieur Paganel, don’t despair. It can all be managed; you will
only have to put up with a little delay, which is relatively of not
much importance. The Yarou-Dzangbo-Tchou will wait for you still in the
mountains of Thibet. We shall soon put in at Madeira, and you will get a
ship there to take you back to Europe.”
“Thanks, my Lord. I suppose I must resign myself to it; but people will
say it is a most extraordinary adventure, and it is only to me such
things happen. And then, too, there is a cabin taken for me on board the
SCOTIA.”
“Oh, as to the SCOTIA, you’ll have to give that up meantime.”
“But the DUNCAN is a pleasure yacht, is it not?” began Paganel again,
after a fresh examination of the vessel.
“Yes, sir,” said John Mangles, “and belongs to Lord Glenarvan.”
“Who begs you will draw freely on his hospitality,” said Lord Glenarvan.
“A thousand thanks, my Lord! I deeply feel your courtesy, but allow me
to make one observation: India is a fine country, and can offer many a
surprising marvel to travelers. These ladies, I suppose, have never seen
it. Well now, the man at the helm has only to give a turn at the wheel,
and the DUNCAN will sail as easily to Calcutta as to Concepcion; and
since it is only a pleasure trip that you are--”
His proposal was met by such grave, disapproving shakes of the head,
that he stopped short before the sentence was completed; and Lady Helena
said:
“Monsieur Paganel, if we were only on a pleasure trip, I should reply,
‘Let us all go to India together,’ and I am sure Lord Glenarvan would
not object; but the DUNCAN is going to bring back shipwrecked mariners
who were cast away on the shores of Patagonia, and we could not alter
such a destination.”
The Frenchman was soon put in possession of all the circumstances of
the case. He was no unmoved auditor, and when he heard of Lady Helena’s
generous proposition, he could not help saying,
“Madame, permit me to express my admiration of your conduct
throughout--my unreserved admiration. Let your yacht continue her
course. I should reproach myself were I to cause a single day’s delay.”
“Will you join us in our search, then?” asked Lady Helena.
“It is impossible, madame. I must fulfill my mission. I shall disembark
at the first place you touch at, wherever it may be.”
“That will be Madeira,” said John Mangles.
“Madeira be it then. I shall only be 180 leagues from Lisbon, and I
shall wait there for some means of transport.”
“Very well, Monsieur Paganel, it shall be as you wish; and, for my own
part, I am very glad to be able to offer you, meantime, a few days’
hospitality. I only hope you will not find our company too dull.”
“Oh, my Lord,” exclaimed Paganel, “I am but too happy to have made
a mistake which has turned out so agreeably. Still, it is a very
ridiculous plight for a man to be in, to find himself sailing to America
when he set out to go to the East Indies!”
But in spite of this melancholy reflection, the Frenchman submitted
gracefully to the compulsory delay. He made himself amiable and merry,
and even diverting, and enchanted the ladies with his good humor. Before
the end of the day he was friends with everybody. At his request, the
famous document was brought out. He studied it carefully and minutely
for a long time, and finally declared his opinion that no other
interpretation of it was possible. Mary Grant and her brother inspired
him with the most lively interest. He gave them great hope; indeed, the
young girl could not help smiling at his sanguine prediction of success,
and this odd way of foreseeing future events. But for his mission he
would have made one of the search party for Captain Grant, undoubtedly.
As for Lady Helena, when he heard that she was a daughter of William
Tuffnell, there was a perfect explosion of admiring epithets. He had
known her father, and what letters had passed between them when William
Tuffnell was a corresponding member of the Society! It was he himself
that had introduced him and M. Malte Brun. What a -rencontre- this was,
and what a pleasure to travel with the daughter of Tuffnell.
He wound up by asking permission to kiss her, which Lady Helena granted,
though it was, perhaps, a little improper.
CHAPTER VIII THE GEOGRAPHER’S RESOLUTION
MEANTIME the yacht, favored by the currents from the north of Africa,
was making rapid progress toward the equator. On the 30th of August
they sighted the Madeira group of islands, and Glenarvan, true to his
promise, offered to put in there, and land his new guest.
But Paganel said:
“My dear Lord, I won’t stand on ceremony with you. Tell me, did you
intend to stop at Madeira before I came on board?”
“No,” replied Glenarvan.
“Well, then, allow me to profit by my unlucky mistake. Madeira is an
island too well known to be of much interest now to a geographer. Every
thing about this group has been said and written already. Besides, it is
completely going down as far as wine growing is concerned. Just imagine
no vines to speak of being in Madeira! In 1813, 22,000 pipes of wine
were made there, and in 1845 the number fell to 2,669. It is a grievous
spectacle! If it is all the same to you, we might go on to the Canary
Isles instead.”
“Certainly. It will not the least interfere with our route.”
“I know it will not, my dear Lord. In the Canary Islands, you see, there
are three groups to study, besides the Peak of Teneriffe, which I always
wished to visit. This is an opportunity, and I should like to avail
myself of it, and make the ascent of the famous mountain while I am
waiting for a ship to take me back to Europe.”
“As you please, my dear Paganel,” said Lord Glenarvan, though he could
not help smiling; and no wonder, for these islands are scarcely 250
miles from Madeira, a trifling distance for such a quick sailer as the
DUNCAN.
Next day, about 2 P. M., John Mangles and Paganel were walking on
the poop. The Frenchman was assailing his companion with all sorts of
questions about Chili, when all at once the captain interrupted him, and
pointing toward the southern horizon, said:
“Monsieur Paganel?”
“Yes, my dear Captain.”
“Be so good as to look in this direction. Don’t you see anything?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re not looking in the right place. It is not on the horizon, but
above it in the clouds.”
“In the clouds? I might well not see.”
“There, there, by the upper end of the bowsprit.”
“I see nothing.”
“Then you don’t want to see. Anyway, though we are forty miles off,
yet I tell you the Peak of Teneriffe is quite visible yonder above the
horizon.”
But whether Paganel could not or would not see it then, two hours later
he was forced to yield to ocular evidence or own himself blind.
“You do see it at last, then,” said John Mangles.
“Yes, yes, distinctly,” replied Paganel, adding in a disdainful tone,
“and that’s what they call the Peak of Teneriffe!”
“That’s the Peak.”
“It doesn’t look much of a height.”
“It is 11,000 feet, though, above the level of the sea.”
“That is not equal to Mont Blanc.”
“Likely enough, but when you come to ascend it, probably you’ll think it
high enough.”
“Oh, ascend it! ascend it, my dear captain! What would be the good after
Humboldt and Bonplan? That Humboldt was a great genius. He made the
ascent of this mountain, and has given a description of it which leaves
nothing unsaid. He tells us that it comprises five different zones--the
zone of the vines, the zone of the laurels, the zone of the pines, the
zone of the Alpine heaths, and, lastly, the zone of sterility. He set
his foot on the very summit, and found that there was not even room
enough to sit down. The view from the summit was very extensive,
stretching over an area equal to Spain. Then he went right down into the
volcano, and examined the extinct crater. What could I do, I should like
you to tell me, after that great man?”
“Well, certainly, there isn’t much left to glean. That is vexing, too,
for you would find it dull work waiting for a vessel in the Peak of
Teneriffe.”
“But, I say, Mangles, my dear fellow, are there no ports in the Cape
Verde Islands that we might touch at?”
“Oh, yes, nothing would be easier than putting you off at Villa Praya.”
“And then I should have one advantage, which is by no means
inconsiderable--I should find fellow-countrymen at Senegal, and that is
not far away from those islands. I am quite aware that the group is said
to be devoid of much interest, and wild, and unhealthy; but everything
is curious in the eyes of a geographer. Seeing is a science. There are
people who do not know how to use their eyes, and who travel about
with as much intelligence as a shell-fish. But that’s not in my line, I
assure you.”
“Please yourself, Monsieur Paganel. I have no doubt geographical science
will be a gainer by your sojourn in the Cape Verde Islands. We must go
in there anyhow for coal, so your disembarkation will not occasion the
least delay.”
The captain gave immediate orders for the yacht to continue her route,
steering to the west of the Canary group, and leaving Teneriffe on her
larboard. She made rapid progress, and passed the Tropic of Cancer on
the second of September at 5 A. M.
The weather now began to change, and the atmosphere became damp and
heavy. It was the rainy season, “-le tempo das aguas-,” as the Spanish
call it, a trying season to travelers, but useful to the inhabitants of
the African Islands, who lack trees and consequently water. The rough
weather prevented the passengers from going on deck, but did not make
the conversation any less animated in the saloon.
On the 3d of September Paganel began to collect his luggage to go on
shore. The DUNCAN was already steaming among the Islands. She passed
Sal, a complete tomb of sand lying barren and desolate, and went on
among the vast coral reefs and athwart the Isle of St. Jacques, with
its long chain of basaltic mountains, till she entered the port of
Villa Praya and anchored in eight fathoms of water before the town. The
weather was frightful, and the surf excessively violent, though the bay
was sheltered from the sea winds. The rain fell in such torrents that
the town was scarcely visible through it. It rose on a plain in the form
of a terrace, buttressed on volcanic rocks three hundred feet high. The
appearance of the island through the thick veil of rain was mournful in
the extreme.
Lady Helena could not go on shore as she had purposed; indeed, even
coaling was a difficult business, and the passengers had to content
themselves below the poop as best they might. Naturally enough, the main
topic of conversation was the weather. Everybody had something to say
about it except the Major, who surveyed the universal deluge with the
utmost indifference. Paganel walked up and down shaking his head.
“It is clear enough, Paganel,” said Lord Glenarvan, “that the elements
are against you.”
“I’ll be even with them for all that,” replied the Frenchman.
“You could not face rain like that, Monsieur Paganel,” said Lady Helena.
“Oh, quite well, madam, as far as I myself am concerned. It is for my
luggage and instruments that I am afraid. Everything will be ruined.”
“The disembarking is the worst part of the business. Once at Villa Praya
you might manage to find pretty good quarters. They wouldn’t be over
clean, and you might find the monkeys and pigs not always the most
agreeable companions. But travelers are not too particular, and,
moreover, in seven or eight months you would get a ship, I dare say, to
take you back to Europe.”
“Seven or eight months!” exclaimed Paganel.
“At least. The Cape Verde Islands are not much frequented by ships
during the rainy season. But you can employ your time usefully. This
archipelago is still but little known.”
“You can go up the large rivers,” suggested Lady Helena.
“There are none, madam.”
“Well, then, the small ones.”
“There are none, madam.”
“The running brooks, then.”
“There are no brooks, either.”
“You can console yourself with the forests if that’s the case,” put in
the Major.
“You can’t make forests without trees, and there are no trees.”
“A charming country!” said the Major.
“Comfort yourself, my dear Paganel, you’ll have the mountains at any
rate,” said Glenarvan.
“Oh, they are neither lofty nor interesting, my Lord, and, beside, they
have been described already.”
“Already!” said Lord Glenarvan.
“Yes, that is always my luck. At the Canary Islands, I saw myself
anticipated by Humboldt, and here by M. Charles Sainte-Claire Deville, a
geologist.”
“Impossible!”
“It is too true,” replied Paganel, in a doleful voice. “Monsieur Deville
was on board the government corvette, La Decidee, when she touched at
the Cape Verde Islands, and he explored the most interesting of the
group, and went to the top of the volcano in Isle Fogo. What is left for
me to do after him?”
“It is really a great pity,” said Helena. “What will become of you,
Monsieur Paganel?”
Paganel remained silent.
“You would certainly have done much better to have landed at Madeira,
even though there had been no wine,” said Glenarvan.
Still the learned secretary was silent.
“I should wait,” said the Major, just as if he had said, “I should not
wait.”
Paganel spoke again at length, and said:
“My dear Glenarvan, where do you mean to touch next?”
“At Concepcion.”
“Plague it! That is a long way out of the road to India.”
“Not it! From the moment you pass Cape Horn, you are getting nearer to
it.”
“I doubt it much.”
“Beside,” resumed Lord Glenarvan, with perfect gravity, “when people are
going to the Indies it doesn’t matter much whether it is to the East or
West.”
“What! it does not matter much?”
“Without taking into account the fact that the inhabitants of the Pampas
in Patagonia are as much Indians as the natives of the Punjaub.”
“Well done, my Lord. That’s a reason that would never have entered my
head!”
“And then, my dear Paganel, you can gain the gold medal anyway. There is
as much to be done, and sought, and investigated, and discovered in the
Cordilleras as in the mountains of Thibet.”
“But the course of the Yarou-Dzangbo-Tchou--what about that?”
“Go up the Rio Colorado instead. It is a river but little known, and
its course on the map is marked out too much according to the fancy of
geographers.”
“I know it is, my dear Lord; they have made grave mistakes. Oh, I
make no question that the Geographical Society would have sent me
to Patagonia as soon as to India, if I had sent in a request to that
effect. But I never thought of it.”
“Just like you.”
“Come, Monsieur Paganel, will you go with us?” asked Lady Helena, in her
most winning tone.
“Madam, my mission?”
“We shall pass through the Straits of Magellan, I must tell you,” said
Lord Glenarvan.
“My Lord, you are a tempter.”
“Let me add, that we shall visit Port Famine.”
“Port Famine!” exclaimed the Frenchman, besieged on all sides. “That
famous port in French annals!”
“Think, too, Monsieur Paganel, that by taking part in our enterprise,
you will be linking France with Scotland.”
“Undoubtedly.”
“A geographer would be of much use to our expedition, and what can be
nobler than to bring science to the service of humanity?”
“That’s well said, madam.”
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