countenance from between the curtains of the awning.
“There he is! there’s our gallant friend--our preserver!” exclaimed
Kennedy, cordially.--“How goes it, Joe?”
“Oh! why, naturally enough, Mr. Kennedy, very naturally! I never felt
better in my life! Nothing sets a man up like a little pleasure-trip
with a bath in Lake Tchad to start on--eh, doctor?”
“Brave fellow!” said Ferguson, pressing Joe’s hand, “what terrible
anxiety you caused us!”
“Humph! and you, sir? Do you think that I felt easy in my mind about
you, gentlemen? You gave me a fine fright, let me tell you!”
“We shall never agree in the world, Joe, if you take things in that
style.”
“I see that his tumble hasn’t changed him a bit,” added Kennedy.
“Your devotion and self-forgetfulness were sublime, my brave lad, and
they saved us, for the Victoria was falling into the lake, and, once
there, nobody could have extricated her.”
“But, if my devotion, as you are pleased to call my summerset, saved
you, did it not save me too, for here we are, all three of us, in
first-rate health? Consequently we have nothing to squabble about in the
whole affair.”
“Oh! we can never come to a settlement with that youth,” said the
sportsman.
“The best way to settle it,” replied Joe, “is to say nothing more about
the matter. What’s done is done. Good or bad, we can’t take it back.”
“You obstinate fellow!” said the doctor, laughing; “you can’t refuse,
though, to tell us your adventures, at all events.”
“Not if you think it worth while. But, in the first place, I’m going to
cook this fat goose to a turn, for I see that Mr. Kennedy has not wasted
his time.”
“All right, Joe!”
“Well, let us see then how this African game will sit on a European
stomach!”
The goose was soon roasted by the flame of the blow-pipe, and not long
afterward was comfortably stowed away. Joe took his own good share,
like a man who had eaten nothing for several days. After the tea and the
punch, he acquainted his friends with his recent adventures. He
spoke with some emotion, even while looking at things with his usual
philosophy. The doctor could not refrain from frequently pressing his
hand when he saw his worthy servant more considerate of his master’s
safety than of his own, and, in relation to the sinking of the island
of the Biddiomahs, he explained to him the frequency of this phenomenon
upon Lake Tchad.
At length Joe, continuing his recital, arrived at the point where,
sinking in the swamp, he had uttered a last cry of despair.
“I thought I was gone,” said he, “and as you came right into my mind, I
made a hard fight for it. How, I couldn’t tell you--but I’d made up my
mind that I wouldn’t go under without knowing why. Just then, I saw--two
or three feet from me--what do you think? the end of a rope that had
been fresh cut; so I took leave to make another jerk, and, by hook or
by crook, I got to the rope. When I pulled, it didn’t give; so I pulled
again and hauled away and there I was on dry ground! At the end of
the rope, I found an anchor! Ah, master, I’ve a right to call that the
anchor of safety, anyhow, if you have no objection. I knew it again! It
was the anchor of the Victoria! You had grounded there! So I followed
the direction of the rope and that gave me your direction, and, after
trying hard a few times more, I got out of the swamp. I had got my
strength back with my spunk, and I walked on part of the night away
from the lake, until I got to the edge of a very big wood. There I saw a
fenced-in place, where some horses were grazing, without thinking of any
harm. Now, there are times when everybody knows how to ride a horse, are
there not, doctor? So I didn’t spend much time thinking about it, but
jumped right on the back of one of those innocent animals and away we
went galloping north as fast as our legs could carry us. I needn’t tell
you about the towns that I didn’t see nor the villages that I took
good care to go around. No! I crossed the ploughed fields; I leaped
the hedges; I scrambled over the fences; I dug my heels into my nag; I
thrashed him; I fairly lifted the poor fellow off his feet! At last I
got to the end of the tilled land. Good! There was the desert. ‘That
suits me!’ said I, ‘for I can see better ahead of me and farther too.’ I
was hoping all the time to see the balloon tacking about and waiting for
me. But not a bit of it; and so, in about three hours, I go plump, like
a fool, into a camp of Arabs! Whew! what a hunt that was! You see, Mr.
Kennedy, a hunter don’t know what a real hunt is until he’s been hunted
himself! Still I advise him not to try it if he can keep out of it! My
horse was so tired, he was ready to drop off his legs; they were close
on me; I threw myself to the ground; then I jumped up again behind an
Arab! I didn’t mean the fellow any harm, and I hope he has no grudge
against me for choking him, but I saw you--and you know the rest.
The Victoria came on at my heels, and you caught me up flying, as
a circus-rider does a ring. Wasn’t I right in counting on you? Now,
doctor, you see how simple all that was! Nothing more natural in the
world! I’m ready to begin over again, if it would be of any service
to you. And besides, master, as I said a while ago, it’s not worth
mentioning.”
“My noble, gallant Joe!” said the doctor, with great feeling. “Heart of
gold! we were not astray in trusting to your intelligence and skill.”
“Poh! doctor, one has only just to follow things along as they happen,
and he can always work his way out of a scrape! The safest plan, you
see, is to take matters as they come.”
While Joe was telling his experience, the balloon had rapidly passed
over a long reach of country, and Kennedy soon pointed out on the
horizon a collection of structures that looked like a town. The doctor
glanced at his map and recognized the place as the large village of
Tagelei, in the Damerghou country.
“Here,” said he, “we come upon Dr. Barth’s route. It was at this place
that he parted from his companions, Richardson and Overweg; the first
was to follow the Zinder route, and the second that of Maradi; and you
may remember that, of these three travellers, Barth was the only one who
ever returned to Europe.”
“Then,” said Kennedy, following out on the map the direction of the
Victoria, “we are going due north.”
“Due north, Dick.”
“And don’t that give you a little uneasiness?”
“Why should it?”
“Because that line leads to Tripoli, and over the Great Desert.”
“Oh, we shall not go so far as that, my friend--at least, I hope not.”
“But where do you expect to halt?”
“Come, Dick, don’t you feel some curiosity to see Timbuctoo?”
“Timbuctoo?”
“Certainly,” said Joe; “nobody nowadays can think of making the trip to
Africa without going to see Timbuctoo.”
“You will be only the fifth or sixth European who has ever set eyes on
that mysterious city.”
“Ho, then, for Timbuctoo!”
“Well, then, let us try to get as far as between the seventeenth and
eighteenth degrees of north latitude, and there we will seek a favorable
wind to carry us westward.”
“Good!” said the hunter. “But have we still far to go to the northward?”
“One hundred and fifty miles at least.”
“In that case,” said Kennedy, “I’ll turn in and sleep a bit.”
“Sleep, sir; sleep!” urged Joe. “And you, doctor, do the same yourself:
you must have need of rest, for I made you keep watch a little out of
time.”
The sportsman stretched himself under the awning; but Ferguson, who was
not easily conquered by fatigue, remained at his post.
In about three hours the Victoria was crossing with extreme rapidity
an expanse of stony country, with ranges of lofty, naked mountains of
granitic formation at the base. A few isolated peaks attained the height
of even four thousand feet. Giraffes, antelopes, and ostriches were seen
running and bounding with marvellous agility in the midst of forests of
acacias, mimosas, souahs, and date-trees. After the barrenness of the
desert, vegetation was now resuming its empire. This was the country of
the Kailouas, who veil their faces with a bandage of cotton, like their
dangerous neighbors, the Touaregs.
At ten o’clock in the evening, after a splendid trip of two hundred and
fifty miles, the Victoria halted over an important town. The moonlight
revealed glimpses of one district half in ruins; and some pinnacles of
mosques and minarets shot up here and there, glistening in the silvery
rays. The doctor took a stellar observation, and discovered that he was
in the latitude of Aghades.
This city, once the seat of an immense trade, was already falling into
ruin when Dr. Barth visited it.
The Victoria, not being seen in the obscurity of night, descended about
two miles above Aghades, in a field of millet. The night was calm, and
began to break into dawn about three o’clock A.M.; while a light wind
coaxed the balloon westward, and even a little toward the south.
Dr. Ferguson hastened to avail himself of such good fortune, and rapidly
ascending resumed his aerial journey amid a long wake of golden morning
sunshine.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHTH.
A Rapid Passage.--Prudent Resolves.--Caravans in Sight.--Incessant
Rains.--Goa.--The Niger.--Golberry, Geoffroy, and Gray.--Mungo
Park.--Laing.--Rene Caillie.--Clapperton.--John and Richard Lander.
The 17th of May passed tranquilly, without any remarkable incident; the
desert gained upon them once more; a moderate wind bore the Victoria
toward the southwest, and she never swerved to the right or to the left,
but her shadow traced a perfectly straight line on the sand.
Before starting, the doctor had prudently renewed his stock of water,
having feared that he should not be able to touch ground in these
regions, infested as they are by the Aouelim-Minian Touaregs. The
plateau, at an elevation of eighteen hundred feet above the level of the
sea, sloped down toward the south. Our travellers, having crossed
the Aghades route at Murzouk--a route often pressed by the feet of
camels--arrived that evening, in the sixteenth degree of north latitude,
and four degrees fifty-five minutes east longitude, after having
passed over one hundred and eighty miles of a long and monotonous day’s
journey.
During the day Joe dressed the last pieces of game, which had been only
hastily prepared, and he served up for supper a mess of snipe, that were
greatly relished. The wind continuing good, the doctor resolved to keep
on during the night, the moon, still nearly at the full, illumining it
with her radiance. The Victoria ascended to a height of five hundred
feet, and, during her nocturnal trip of about sixty miles, the gentle
slumbers of an infant would not have been disturbed by her motion.
On Sunday morning, the direction of the wind again changed, and it bore
to the northwestward. A few crows were seen sweeping through the
air, and, off on the horizon, a flock of vultures which, fortunately,
however, kept at a distance.
The sight of these birds led Joe to compliment his master on the idea of
having two balloons.
“Where would we be,” said he, “with only one balloon? The second balloon
is like the life-boat to a ship; in case of wreck we could always take
to it and escape.”
“You are right, friend Joe,” said the doctor, “only that my life-boat
gives me some uneasiness. It is not so good as the main craft.”
“What do you mean by that, doctor?” asked Kennedy.
“I mean to say that the new Victoria is not so good as the old one.
Whether it be that the stuff it is made of is too much worn, or that the
heat of the spiral has melted the gutta-percha, I can observe a
certain loss of gas. It don’t amount to much thus far, but still it
is noticeable. We have a tendency to sink, and, in order to keep our
elevation, I am compelled to give greater dilation to the hydrogen.”
“The deuce!” exclaimed Kennedy with concern; “I see no remedy for that.”
“There is none, Dick, and that is why we must hasten our progress, and
even avoid night halts.”
“Are we still far from the coast?” asked Joe.
“Which coast, my boy? How are we to know whither chance will carry us?
All that I can say is, that Timbuctoo is still about four hundred miles
to the westward.
“And how long will it take us to get there?”
“Should the wind not carry us too far out of the way, I hope to reach
that city by Tuesday evening.”
“Then,” remarked Joe, pointing to a long file of animals and men
winding across the open desert, “we shall arrive there sooner than that
caravan.”
Ferguson and Kennedy leaned over and saw an immense cavalcade. There
were at least one hundred and fifty camels of the kind that, for twelve
mutkals of gold, or about twenty-five dollars, go from Timbuctoo to
Tafilet with a load of five hundred pounds upon their backs. Each animal
had dangling to its tail a bag to receive its excrement, the only fuel
on which the caravans can depend when crossing the desert.
These Touareg camels are of the very best race. They can go from three
to seven days without drinking, and for two without eating. Their speed
surpasses that of the horse, and they obey with intelligence the voice
of the khabir, or guide of the caravan. They are known in the country
under the name of mehari.
Such were the details given by the doctor while his companions continued
to gaze upon that multitude of men, women, and children, advancing
on foot and with difficulty over a waste of sand half in motion, and
scarcely kept in its place by scanty nettles, withered grass, and
stunted bushes that grew upon it. The wind obliterated the marks of
their feet almost instantly.
Joe inquired how the Arabs managed to guide themselves across the
desert, and come to the few wells scattered far between throughout this
vast solitude.
“The Arabs,” replied Dr. Ferguson, “are endowed by nature with a
wonderful instinct in finding their way. Where a European would be at
a loss, they never hesitate for a moment. An insignificant fragment of
rock, a pebble, a tuft of grass, a different shade of color in the sand,
suffice to guide them with accuracy. During the night they go by the
polar star. They never travel more than two miles per hour, and always
rest during the noonday heat. You may judge from that how long it takes
them to cross Sahara, a desert more than nine hundred miles in breadth.”
But the Victoria had already disappeared from the astonished gaze of the
Arabs, who must have envied her rapidity. That evening she passed two
degrees twenty minutes east longitude, and during the night left another
degree behind her.
On Monday the weather changed completely. Rain began to fall with
extreme violence, and not only had the balloon to resist the power of
this deluge, but also the increase of weight which it caused by wetting
the whole machine, car and all. This continuous shower accounted for
the swamps and marshes that formed the sole surface of the country.
Vegetation reappeared, however, along with the mimosas, the baobabs, and
the tamarind-trees.
Such was the Sonray country, with its villages topped with roofs turned
over like Armenian caps. There were few mountains, and only such hills
as were enough to form the ravines and pools where the pintadoes and
snipes went sailing and diving through. Here and there, an impetuous
torrent cut the roads, and had to be crossed by the natives on long
vines stretched from tree to tree. The forests gave place to jungles,
which alligators, hippopotami, and the rhinoceros, made their haunts.
“It will not be long before we see the Niger,” said the doctor. “The
face of the country always changes in the vicinity of large rivers.
These moving highways, as they are sometimes correctly called,
have first brought vegetation with them, as they will at last bring
civilization. Thus, in its course of twenty-five hundred miles, the
Niger has scattered along its banks the most important cities of
Africa.”
“By-the-way,” put in Joe, “that reminds me of what was said by an
admirer of the goodness of Providence, who praised the foresight with
which it had generally caused rivers to flow close to large cities!”
At noon the Victoria was passing over a petty town, a mere assemblage of
miserable huts, which once was Goa, a great capital.
“It was there,” said the doctor, “that Barth crossed the Niger, on his
return from Timbuctoo. This is the river so famous in antiquity, the
rival of the Nile, to which pagan superstition ascribed a celestial
origin. Like the Nile, it has engaged the attention of geographers in
all ages; and like it, also, its exploration has cost the lives of many
victims; yes, even more of them than perished on account of the other.”
The Niger flowed broadly between its banks, and its waters rolled
southward with some violence of current; but our travellers, borne
swiftly by as they were, could scarcely catch a glimpse of its curious
outline.
“I wanted to talk to you about this river,” said Dr. Ferguson, “and it
is already far from us. Under the names of Dhiouleba, Mayo, Egghirreou,
Quorra, and other titles besides, it traverses an immense extent of
country, and almost competes in length with the Nile. These appellations
signify simply ‘the River,’ according to the dialects of the countries
through which it passes.”
“Did Dr. Barth follow this route?” asked Kennedy.
“No, Dick: in quitting Lake Tchad, he passed through the different towns
of Bornou, and intersected the Niger at Say, four degrees below Goa;
then he penetrated to the bosom of those unexplored countries which the
Niger embraces in its elbow; and, after eight months of fresh fatigues,
he arrived at Timbuctoo; all of which we may do in about three days with
as swift a wind as this.”
“Have the sources of the Niger been discovered?” asked Joe.
“Long since,” replied the doctor. “The exploration of the Niger and
its tributaries was the object of several expeditions, the principal
of which I shall mention: Between 1749 and 1758, Adamson made a
reconnoissance of the river, and visited Gorea; from 1785 to 1788,
Golberry and Geoffroy travelled across the deserts of Senegambia, and
ascended as far as the country of the Moors, who assassinated Saugnier,
Brisson, Adam, Riley, Cochelet, and so many other unfortunate men. Then
came the illustrious Mungo Park, the friend of Sir Walter Scott, and,
like him, a Scotchman by birth. Sent out in 1795 by the African Society
of London, he got as far as Bambarra, saw the Niger, travelled five
hundred miles with a slave-merchant, reconnoitred the Gambia River, and
returned to England in 1797. He again set out, on the 30th of January,
1805, with his brother-in-law Anderson, Scott, the designer, and a gang
of workmen; he reached Gorea, there added a detachment of thirty-five
soldiers to his party, and saw the Niger again on the 19th of August.
But, by that time, in consequence of fatigue, privations, ill-usage, the
inclemencies of the weather, and the unhealthiness of the country, only
eleven persons remained alive of the forty Europeans in the party. On
the 16th of November, the last letters from Mungo Park reached his wife;
and, a year later a trader from that country gave information that,
having got as far as Boussa, on the Niger, on the 23d of December, the
unfortunate traveller’s boat was upset by the cataracts in that part of
the river, and he was murdered by the natives.”
“And his dreadful fate did not check the efforts of others to explore
that river?”
“On the contrary, Dick. Since then, there were two objects in view:
namely, to recover the lost man’s papers, as well as to pursue the
exploration. In 1816, an expedition was organized, in which Major
Grey took part. It arrived in Senegal, penetrated to the Fonta-Jallon,
visited the Foullah and Mandingo populations, and returned to England
without further results. In 1822, Major Laing explored all the western
part of Africa near to the British possessions; and he it was who got
so far as the sources of the Niger; and, according to his documents, the
spring in which that immense river takes its rise is not two feet broad.
“Easy to jump over,” said Joe.
“How’s that? Easy you think, eh?” retorted the doctor. “If we are to
believe tradition, whoever attempts to pass that spring, by leaping over
it, is immediately swallowed up; and whoever tries to draw water from
it, feels himself repulsed by an invisible hand.”
“I suppose a man has a right not to believe a word of that!” persisted
Joe.
“Oh, by all means!--Five years later, it was Major Laing’s destiny to
force his way across the desert of Sahara, penetrate to Timbuctoo,
and perish a few miles above it, by strangling, at the hands of the
Ouelad-shiman, who wanted to compel him to turn Mussulman.”
“Still another victim!” said the sportsman.
“It was then that a brave young man, with his own feeble resources,
undertook and accomplished the most astonishing of modern journeys--I
mean the Frenchman Rene Caillie, who, after sundry attempts in 1819 and
1824, set out again on the 19th of April, 1827, from Rio Nunez. On the
3d of August he arrived at Time, so thoroughly exhausted and ill that he
could not resume his journey until six months later, in January, 1828.
He then joined a caravan, and, protected by his Oriental dress, reached
the Niger on the 10th of March, penetrated to the city of Jenne,
embarked on the river, and descended it, as far as Timbuctoo, where
he arrived on the 30th of April. In 1760, another Frenchman, Imbert by
name, and, in 1810, an Englishman, Robert Adams, had seen this curious
place; but Rene Caillie was to be the first European who could bring
back any authentic data concerning it. On the 4th of May he quitted this
‘Queen of the desert;’ on the 9th, he surveyed the very spot where Major
Laing had been murdered; on the 19th, he arrived at El-Arouan, and left
that commercial town to brave a thousand dangers in crossing the vast
solitudes comprised between the Soudan and the northern regions of
Africa. At length he entered Tangiers, and on the 28th of September
sailed for Toulon. In nineteen months, notwithstanding one hundred and
eighty days’ sickness, he had traversed Africa from west to north. Ah!
had Callie been born in England, he would have been honored as the most
intrepid traveller of modern times, as was the case with Mungo Park. But
in France he was not appreciated according to his worth.”
“He was a sturdy fellow!” said Kennedy, “but what became of him?”
“He died at the age of thirty-nine, from the consequences of his long
fatigues. They thought they had done enough in decreeing him the prize
of the Geographical Society in 1828; the highest honors would have been
paid to him in England.
“While he was accomplishing this remarkable journey, an Englishman had
conceived a similar enterprise and was trying to push it through
with equal courage, if not with equal good fortune. This was Captain
Clapperton, the companion of Denham. In 1829 he reentered Africa by the
western coast of the Gulf of Benin; he then followed in the track of
Mungo Park and of Laing, recovered at Boussa the documents relative to
the death of the former, and arrived on the 20th of August at Sackatoo,
where he was seized and held as a prisoner, until he expired in the arms
of his faithful attendant Richard Lander.”
“And what became of this Lander?” asked Joe, deeply interested.
“He succeeded in regaining the coast and returned to London, bringing
with him the captain’s papers, and an exact narrative of his own
journey. He then offered his services to the government to complete
the reconnoissance of the Niger. He took with him his brother John, the
second child of a poor couple in Cornwall, and, together, these men,
between 1829 and 1831, redescended the river from Boussa to its mouth,
describing it village by village, mile by mile.”
“So both the brothers escaped the common fate?” queried Kennedy.
“Yes, on this expedition, at least; but in 1833 Richard undertook a
third trip to the Niger, and perished by a bullet, near the mouth of the
river. You see, then, my friends, that the country over which we are
now passing has witnessed some noble instances of self-sacrifice which,
unfortunately, have only too often had death for their reward.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINTH.
The Country in the Elbow of the Niger.--A Fantastic View of the Hombori
Mountains.--Kabra.--Timbuctoo.--The Chart of Dr. Barth.--A Decaying
City.--Whither Heaven wills.
During this dull Monday, Dr. Ferguson diverted his thoughts by giving
his companions a thousand details concerning the country they were
crossing. The surface, which was quite flat, offered no impediment
to their progress. The doctor’s sole anxiety arose from the obstinate
northeast wind which continued to blow furiously, and bore them away
from the latitude of Timbuctoo.
The Niger, after running northward as far as that city, sweeps around,
like an immense water-jet from some fountain, and falls into the
Atlantic in a broad sheaf. In the elbow thus formed the country is of
varied character, sometimes luxuriantly fertile, and sometimes extremely
bare; fields of maize succeeded by wide spaces covered with broom-corn
and uncultivated plains. All kinds of aquatic birds--pelicans,
wild-duck, kingfishers, and the rest--were seen in numerous flocks
hovering about the borders of the pools and torrents.
From time to time there appeared an encampment of Touaregs, the men
sheltered under their leather tents, while their women were busied
with the domestic toil outside, milking their camels and smoking their
huge-bowled pipes.
By eight o’clock in the evening the Victoria had advanced more than two
hundred miles to the westward, and our aeronauts became the spectators
of a magnificent scene.
A mass of moonbeams forcing their way through an opening in the clouds,
and gliding between the long lines of falling rain, descended in a
golden shower on the ridges of the Hombori Mountains. Nothing could be
more weird than the appearance of these seemingly basaltic summits; they
stood out in fantastic profile against the sombre sky, and the beholder
might have fancied them to be the legendary ruins of some vast city of
the middle ages, such as the icebergs of the polar seas sometimes mimic
them in nights of gloom.
“An admirable landscape for the ‘Mysteries of Udolpho’!” exclaimed the
doctor. “Ann Radcliffe could not have depicted yon mountains in a more
appalling aspect.”
“Faith!” said Joe, “I wouldn’t like to be strolling alone in the evening
through this country of ghosts. Do you see now, master, if it wasn’t so
heavy, I’d like to carry that whole landscape home to Scotland! It would
do for the borders of Loch Lomond, and tourists would rush there in
crowds.”
“Our balloon is hardly large enough to admit of that little
experiment--but I think our direction is changing. Bravo!--the elves
and fairies of the place are quite obliging. See, they’ve sent us a nice
little southeast breeze, that will put us on the right track again.”
In fact, the Victoria was resuming a more northerly route, and on the
morning of the 20th she was passing over an inextricable network of
channels, torrents, and streams, in fine, the whole complicated tangle
of the Niger’s tributaries. Many of these channels, covered with a thick
growth of herbage, resembled luxuriant meadow-lands. There the doctor
recognized the route followed by the explorer Barth when he launched
upon the river to descend to Timbuctoo. Eight hundred fathoms broad at
this point, the Niger flowed between banks richly grown with cruciferous
plants and tamarind-trees. Herds of agile gazelles were seen skipping
about, their curling horns mingling with the tall herbage, within
which the alligator, half concealed, lay silently in wait for them with
watchful eyes.
Long files of camels and asses laden with merchandise from Jenne were
winding in under the noble trees. Ere long, an amphitheatre of low-built
houses was discovered at a turn of the river, their roofs and terraces
heaped up with hay and straw gathered from the neighboring districts.
“There’s Kabra!” exclaimed the doctor, joyously; “there is the harbor of
Timbuctoo, and the city is not five miles from here!”
“Then, sir, you are satisfied?” half queried Joe.
“Delighted, my boy!”
“Very good; then every thing’s for the best!”
In fact, about two o’clock, the Queen of the Desert, mysterious
Timbuctoo, which once, like Athens and Rome, had her schools of learned
men, and her professorships of philosophy, stretched away before the
gaze of our travellers.
Ferguson followed the most minute details upon the chart traced by Barth
himself, and was enabled to recognize its perfect accuracy.
The city forms an immense triangle marked out upon a vast plain of white
sand, its acute angle directed toward the north and piercing a corner of
the desert. In the environs there was almost nothing, hardly even a few
grasses, with some dwarf mimosas and stunted bushes.
As for the appearance of Timbuctoo, the reader has but to imagine a
collection of billiard-balls and thimbles--such is the bird’s-eye view!
The streets, which are quite narrow, are lined with houses only one
story in height, built of bricks dried in the sun, and huts of straw
and reeds, the former square, the latter conical. Upon the terraces were
seen some of the male inhabitants, carelessly lounging at full length
in flowing apparel of bright colors, and lance or musket in hand; but no
women were visible at that hour of the day.
“Yet they are said to be handsome,” remarked the doctor. “You see the
three towers of the three mosques that are the only ones left standing
of a great number--the city has indeed fallen from its ancient splendor!
At the top of the triangle rises the Mosque of Sankore, with its ranges
of galleries resting on arcades of sufficiently pure design. Farther on,
and near to the Sane-Gungu quarter, is the Mosque of Sidi-Yahia and some
two-story houses. But do not look for either palaces or monuments:
the sheik is a mere son of traffic, and his royal palace is a
counting-house.”
“It seems to me that I can see half-ruined ramparts,” said Kennedy.
“They were destroyed by the Fouillanes in 1826; the city was one-third
larger then, for Timbuctoo, an object generally coveted by all the
tribes, since the eleventh century, has belonged in succession to the
Touaregs, the Sonrayans, the Morocco men, and the Fouillanes; and this
great centre of civilization, where a sage like Ahmed-Baba owned, in
the sixteenth century, a library of sixteen hundred manuscripts, is now
nothing but a mere half-way house for the trade of Central Africa.”
The city, indeed, seemed abandoned to supreme neglect; it betrayed that
indifference which seems epidemic to cities that are passing away. Huge
heaps of rubbish encumbered the suburbs, and, with the hill on which the
market-place stood, formed the only inequalities of the ground.
When the Victoria passed, there was some slight show of movement; drums
were beaten; but the last learned man still lingering in the place had
hardly time to notice the new phenomenon, for our travellers, driven
onward by the wind of the desert, resumed the winding course of the
river, and, ere long, Timbuctoo was nothing more than one of the
fleeting reminiscences of their journey.
“And now,” said the doctor, “Heaven may waft us whither it pleases!”
“Provided only that we go westward,” added Kennedy.
“Bah!” said Joe; “I wouldn’t be afraid if it was to go back to Zanzibar
by the same road, or to cross the ocean to America.”
“We would first have to be able to do that, Joe!”
“And what’s wanting, doctor?”
“Gas, my boy; the ascending force of the balloon is evidently growing
weaker, and we shall need all our management to make it carry us to
the sea-coast. I shall even have to throw over some ballast. We are too
heavy.”
“That’s what comes of doing nothing, doctor; when a man lies stretched
out all day long in his hammock, he gets fat and heavy. It’s a lazybones
trip, this of ours, master, and when we get back every body will find us
big and stout.”
“Just like Joe,” said Kennedy; “just the ideas for him: but wait a bit!
Can you tell what we may have to go through yet? We are still far from
the end of our trip. Where do you expect to strike the African coast,
doctor?”
“I should find it hard to answer you, Kennedy. We are at the mercy of
very variable winds; but I should think myself fortunate were we to
strike it between Sierra Leone and Portendick. There is a stretch of
country in that quarter where we should meet with friends.”
“And it would be a pleasure to press their hands; but, are we going in
the desirable direction?”
“Not any too well, Dick; not any too well! Look at the needle of the
compass; we are bearing southward, and ascending the Niger toward its
sources.”
“A fine chance to discover them,” said Joe, “if they were not known
already. Now, couldn’t we just find others for it, on a pinch?”
“Not exactly, Joe; but don’t be alarmed: I hardly expect to go so far as
that.”
At nightfall the doctor threw out the last bags of sand. The Victoria
rose higher, and the blow-pipe, although working at full blast, could
scarcely keep her up. At that time she was sixty miles to the southward
of Timbuctoo, and in the morning the aeronauts awoke over the banks of
the Niger, not far from Lake Debo.
CHAPTER FORTIETH.
Dr. Ferguson’s Anxieties.--Persistent Movement southward.--A Cloud
of Grasshoppers.--A View of Jenne.--A View of Sego.--Change of the
Wind.--Joe’s Regrets.
The flow of the river was, at that point, divided by large islands into
narrow branches, with a very rapid current. Upon one among them stood
some shepherds’ huts, but it had become impossible to take an exact
observation of them, because the speed of the balloon was constantly
increasing. Unfortunately, it turned still more toward the south, and in
a few moments crossed Lake Debo.
Dr. Ferguson, forcing the dilation of his aerial craft to the utmost,
sought for other currents of air at different heights, but in vain; and
he soon gave up the attempt, which was only augmenting the waste of gas
by pressing it against the well-worn tissue of the balloon.
He made no remark, but he began to feel very anxious. This persistence
of the wind to head him off toward the southern part of Africa was
defeating his calculations, and he no longer knew upon whom or upon what
to depend. Should he not reach the English or French territories, what
was to become of him in the midst of the barbarous tribes that infest
the coasts of Guinea? How should he there get to a ship to take him back
to England? And the actual direction of the wind was driving him along
to the kingdom of Dahomey, among the most savage races, and into the
power of a ruler who was in the habit of sacrificing thousands of human
victims at his public orgies. There he would be lost!
On the other hand, the balloon was visibly wearing out, and the doctor
felt it failing him. However, as the weather was clearing up a little,
he hoped that the cessation of the rain would bring about a change in
the atmospheric currents.
It was therefore a disagreeable reminder of the actual situation when
Joe said aloud:
“There! the rain’s going to pour down harder than ever; and this time it
will be the deluge itself, if we’re to judge by yon cloud that’s coming
up!”
“What! another cloud?” asked Ferguson.
“Yes, and a famous one,” replied Kennedy.
“I never saw the like of it,” added Joe.
“I breathe freely again!” said the doctor, laying down his spy-glass.
“That’s not a cloud!”
“Not a cloud?” queried Joe, with surprise.
“No; it is a swarm.”
“Eh?”
“A swarm of grasshoppers!”
“That? Grasshoppers!”
“Myriads of grasshoppers, that are going to sweep over this country like
a water-spout; and woe to it! for, should these insects alight, it will
be laid waste.”
“That would be a sight worth beholding!”
“Wait a little, Joe. In ten minutes that cloud will have arrived where
we are, and you can then judge by the aid of your own eyes.”
The doctor was right. The cloud, thick, opaque, and several miles in
extent, came on with a deafening noise, casting its immense shadow over
the fields. It was composed of numberless legions of that species of
grasshopper called crickets. About a hundred paces from the balloon,
they settled down upon a tract full of foliage and verdure. Fifteen
minutes later, the mass resumed its flight, and our travellers could,
even at a distance, see the trees and the bushes entirely stripped, and
the fields as bare as though they had been swept with the scythe. One
would have thought that a sudden winter had just descended upon the
earth and struck the region with the most complete sterility.
“Well, Joe, what do you think of that?”
“Well, doctor, it’s very curious, but quite natural. What one
grasshopper does on a small scale, thousands do on a grand scale.”
“It’s a terrible shower,” said the hunter; “more so than hail itself in
the devastation it causes.”
“It is impossible to prevent it,” replied Ferguson. “Sometimes the
inhabitants have had the idea to burn the forests, and even the standing
crops, in order to arrest the progress of these insects; but the first
ranks plunging into the flames would extinguish them beneath their
mass, and the rest of the swarm would then pass irresistibly onward.
Fortunately, in these regions, there is some sort of compensation for
their ravages, since the natives gather these insects in great numbers
and greedily eat them.”
“They are the prawns of the air,” said Joe, who added that he was sorry
that he had never had the chance to taste them--just for information’s
sake!
The country became more marshy toward evening; the forests dwindled to
isolated clumps of trees; and on the borders of the river could be seen
plantations of tobacco, and swampy meadow-lands fat with forage. At last
the city of Jenne, on a large island, came in sight, with the two
towers of its clay-built mosque, and the putrid odor of the millions
of swallows’ nests accumulated in its walls. The tops of some baobabs,
mimosas, and date-trees peeped up between the houses; and, even at
night, the activity of the place seemed very great. Jenne is, in fact,
quite a commercial city: it supplies all the wants of Timbuctoo. Its
boats on the river, and its caravans along the shaded roads, bear
thither the various products of its industry.
“Were it not that to do so would prolong our journey,” said the doctor,
“I should like to alight at this place. There must be more than one Arab
there who has travelled in England and France, and to whom our style of
locomotion is not altogether new. But it would not be prudent.”
“Let us put off the visit until our next trip,” said Joe, laughing.
“Besides, my friends, unless I am mistaken, the wind has a slight
tendency to veer a little more to the eastward, and we must not lose
such an opportunity.”
The doctor threw overboard some articles that were no longer
of use--some empty bottles, and a case that had contained
preserved-meat--and thereby managed to keep the balloon in a belt of the
atmosphere more favorable to his plans. At four o’clock in the morning
the first rays of the sun lighted up Sego, the capital of Bambarra,
which could be recognized at once by the four towns that compose it,
by its Saracenic mosques, and by the incessant going and coming of the
flat-bottomed boats that convey its inhabitants from one quarter to the
other. But the travellers were not more seen than they saw. They
sped rapidly and directly to the northwest, and the doctor’s anxiety
gradually subsided.
“Two more days in this direction, and at this rate of speed, and we’ll
reach the Senegal River.”
“And we’ll be in a friendly country?” asked the hunter.
“Not altogether; but, if the worst came to the worst, and the balloon
were to fail us, we might make our way to the French settlements.
But, let it hold out only for a few hundred miles, and we shall arrive
without fatigue, alarm, or danger, at the western coast.”
“And the thing will be over!” added Joe. “Heigh-ho! so much the worse.
If it wasn’t for the pleasure of telling about it, I would never want
to set foot on the ground again! Do you think anybody will believe our
story, doctor?”
“Who can tell, Joe? One thing, however, will be undeniable: a thousand
witnesses saw us start on one side of the African Continent, and a
thousand more will see us arrive on the other.”
“And, in that case, it seems to me that it would be hard to say that we
had not crossed it,” added Kennedy.
“Ah, doctor!” said Joe again, with a deep sigh, “I’ll think more than
once of my lumps of solid gold-ore! There was something that would have
given WEIGHT to our narrative! At a grain of gold per head, I could have
got together a nice crowd to listen to me, and even to admire me!”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIRST.
The Approaches to Senegal.--The Balloon sinks lower and lower.--They
keep throwing out, throwing out.--The Marabout Al-Hadji.--Messrs.
Pascal, Vincent, and Lambert.--A Rival of Mohammed.--The Difficult
Mountains.--Kennedy’s Weapons.--One of Joe’s Manoeuvres.--A Halt over a
Forest.
On the 27th of May, at nine o’clock in the morning, the country
presented an entirely different aspect. The slopes, extending far away,
changed to hills that gave evidence of mountains soon to follow. They
would have to cross the chain which separates the basin of the Niger
from the basin of the Senegal, and determines the course of the
water-shed, whether to the Gulf of Guinea on the one hand, or to the bay
of Cape Verde on the other.
As far as Senegal, this part of Africa is marked down as dangerous.
Dr. Ferguson knew it through the recitals of his predecessors. They had
suffered a thousand privations and been exposed to a thousand dangers
in the midst of these barbarous negro tribes. It was this fatal climate
that had devoured most of the companions of Mungo Park. Ferguson,
therefore, was more than ever decided not to set foot in this
inhospitable region.
But he had not enjoyed one moment of repose. The Victoria was descending
very perceptibly, so much so that he had to throw overboard a number
more of useless articles, especially when there was a mountain-top to
pass. Things went on thus for more than one hundred and twenty miles;
they were worn out with ascending and falling again; the balloon, like
another rock of Sisyphus, kept continually sinking back toward the
ground. The rotundity of the covering, which was now but little
inflated, was collapsing already. It assumed an elongated shape, and the
wind hollowed large cavities in the silken surface.
Kennedy could not help observing this.
“Is there a crack or a tear in the balloon?” he asked.
“No, but the gutta percha has evidently softened or melted in the heat,
and the hydrogen is escaping through the silk.”
“How can we prevent that?”
“It is impossible. Let us lighten her. That is the only help. So let us
throw out every thing we can spare.”
“But what shall it be?” said the hunter, looking at the car, which was
already quite bare.
“Well, let us get rid of the awning, for its weight is quite
considerable.”
Joe, who was interested in this order, climbed up on the circle which
kept together the cordage of the network, and from that place easily
managed to detach the heavy curtains of the awning and throw them
overboard.
“There’s something that will gladden the hearts of a whole tribe of
blacks,” said he; “there’s enough to dress a thousand of them, for
they’re not very extravagant with cloth.”
The balloon had risen a little, but it soon became evident that it was
again approaching the ground.
“Let us alight,” suggested Kennedy, “and see what can be done with the
covering of the balloon.”
“I tell you, again, Dick, that we have no means of repairing it.”
“Then what shall we do?”
“We’ll have to sacrifice every thing not absolutely indispensable; I
am anxious, at all hazards, to avoid a detention in these regions. The
forests over the tops of which we are skimming are any thing but safe.”
“What! are there lions in them, or hyenas?” asked Joe, with an
expression of sovereign contempt.
“Worse than that, my boy! There are men, and some of the most cruel,
too, in all Africa.”
“How is that known?”
“By the statements of travellers who have been here before us. Then
the French settlers, who occupy the colony of Senegal, necessarily
have relations with the surrounding tribes. Under the administration
of Colonel Faidherbe, reconnaissances have been pushed far up into the
country. Officers such as Messrs. Pascal, Vincent, and Lambert, have
brought back precious documents from their expeditions. They have
explored these countries formed by the elbow of the Senegal in places
where war and pillage have left nothing but ruins.”
“What, then, took place?”
“I will tell you. In 1854 a Marabout of the Senegalese Fouta, Al-Hadji
by name, declaring himself to be inspired like Mohammed, stirred up
all the tribes to war against the infidels--that is to say, against
the Europeans. He carried destruction and desolation over the regions
between the Senegal River and its tributary, the Fateme. Three hordes
of fanatics led on by him scoured the country, sparing neither a village
nor a hut in their pillaging, massacring career. He advanced in person
on the town of Sego, which was a long time threatened. In 1857 he worked
up farther to the northward, and invested the fortification of Medina,
built by the French on the bank of the river. This stronghold was
defended by Paul Holl, who, for several months, without provisions
or ammunition, held out until Colonel Faidherbe came to his relief.
Al-Hadji and his bands then repassed the Senegal, and reappeared in the
Kaarta, continuing their rapine and murder.--Well, here below us is the
very country in which he has found refuge with his hordes of banditti;
and I assure you that it would not be a good thing to fall into his
hands.”
“We shall not,” said Joe, “even if we have to throw overboard our
clothes to save the Victoria.”
“We are not far from the river,” said the doctor, “but I foresee that
our balloon will not be able to carry us beyond it.”
“Let us reach its banks, at all events,” said the Scot, “and that will
be so much gained.”
“That is what we are trying to do,” rejoined Ferguson, “only that one
thing makes me feel anxious.”
“What is that?”
“We shall have mountains to pass, and that will be difficult to do,
since I cannot augment the ascensional force of the balloon, even with
the greatest possible heat that I can produce.”
“Well, wait a bit,” said Kennedy, “and we shall see!”
“The poor Victoria!” sighed Joe; “I had got fond of her as the sailor
does of his ship, and I’ll not give her up so easily. She may not be
what she was at the start--granted; but we shouldn’t say a word against
her. She has done us good service, and it would break my heart to desert
her.”
“Be at your ease, Joe; if we leave her, it will be in spite of
ourselves. She’ll serve us until she’s completely worn out, and I ask of
her only twenty-four hours more!”
“Ah, she’s getting used up! She grows thinner and thinner,” said Joe,
dolefully, while he eyed her. “Poor balloon!”
“Unless I am deceived,” said Kennedy, “there on the horizon are the
mountains of which you were speaking, doctor.”
“Yes, there they are, indeed!” exclaimed the doctor, after having
examined them through his spy-glass, “and they look very high. We shall
have some trouble in crossing them.”
“Can we not avoid them?”
“I am afraid not, Dick. See what an immense space they occupy--nearly
one-half of the horizon!”
“They even seem to shut us in,” added Joe. “They are gaining on both our
right and our left.”
“We must then pass over them.”
.
1
2
«
!
’
-
-
!
»
3
,
.
-
-
«
,
?
»
4
5
«
!
,
,
.
,
!
6
!
-
7
-
-
,
?
»
8
9
«
!
»
,
’
,
«
10
!
»
11
12
«
!
,
?
13
,
?
,
!
»
14
15
«
,
,
16
.
»
17
18
«
’
,
»
.
19
20
«
-
,
,
21
,
,
,
22
,
.
»
23
24
«
,
,
,
25
,
,
,
,
26
-
?
27
.
»
28
29
«
!
,
»
30
.
31
32
«
,
»
,
«
33
.
’
.
,
’
.
»
34
35
«
!
»
,
;
«
’
,
36
,
,
.
»
37
38
«
.
,
,
’
39
,
.
40
.
»
41
42
«
,
!
»
43
44
«
,
45
!
»
46
47
-
,
48
.
,
49
.
50
,
.
51
,
52
.
53
’
54
,
,
55
,
56
.
57
58
,
,
,
59
,
.
60
61
«
,
»
,
«
,
62
.
,
’
-
-
’
63
’
.
,
-
-
64
-
-
?
65
;
,
,
66
,
.
,
’
;
67
!
68
,
!
,
,
’
69
,
,
.
!
70
!
!
71
,
,
72
,
.
73
,
74
,
.
75
-
,
,
76
.
,
,
77
,
?
’
,
78
79
.
’
80
’
81
.
!
;
82
;
;
;
83
;
!
84
.
!
.
‘
85
!
’
,
‘
.
’
86
87
.
;
,
,
,
88
,
!
!
!
,
.
89
,
’
’
90
!
!
91
,
;
92
;
;
93
!
’
,
94
,
-
-
.
95
,
,
96
-
.
’
?
,
97
,
!
98
!
’
,
99
.
,
,
,
’
100
.
»
101
102
«
,
!
»
,
.
«
103
!
.
»
104
105
«
!
,
,
106
!
,
107
,
.
»
108
109
,
110
,
111
.
112
113
,
.
114
115
«
,
»
,
«
.
’
.
116
,
;
117
,
;
118
,
,
119
.
»
120
121
«
,
»
,
122
,
«
.
»
123
124
«
,
.
»
125
126
«
’
?
»
127
128
«
?
»
129
130
«
,
.
»
131
132
«
,
,
-
-
,
.
»
133
134
«
?
»
135
136
«
,
,
’
?
»
137
138
«
?
»
139
140
«
,
»
;
«
141
.
»
142
143
«
144
.
»
145
146
«
,
,
!
»
147
148
«
,
,
149
,
150
.
»
151
152
«
!
»
.
«
?
»
153
154
«
.
»
155
156
«
,
»
,
«
’
.
»
157
158
«
,
;
!
»
.
«
,
,
:
159
,
160
.
»
161
162
;
,
163
,
.
164
165
166
,
,
167
.
168
.
,
,
169
170
,
,
,
-
.
171
,
.
172
,
,
173
,
.
174
175
’
,
176
,
.
177
;
178
,
179
.
,
180
.
181
182
,
,
183
.
.
184
185
,
,
186
,
.
,
187
’
.
.
;
188
,
.
189
190
.
,
191
192
.
193
194
195
196
-
.
197
198
.
-
-
.
-
-
.
-
-
199
.
-
-
.
-
-
.
-
-
,
,
.
-
-
200
.
-
-
.
-
-
.
-
-
.
-
-
.
201
202
,
;
203
;
204
,
,
205
.
206
207
,
,
208
209
,
-
.
210
,
211
,
.
,
212
-
-
213
-
-
,
,
214
-
,
215
’
216
.
217
218
,
219
,
,
220
.
,
221
,
,
,
222
.
223
,
,
,
224
.
225
226
,
,
227
.
228
,
,
,
,
,
229
,
.
230
231
232
.
233
234
«
,
»
,
«
?
235
-
;
236
.
»
237
238
«
,
,
»
,
«
-
239
.
.
»
240
241
«
,
?
»
.
242
243
«
.
244
,
245
-
,
246
.
’
,
247
.
,
,
248
,
.
»
249
250
«
!
»
;
«
.
»
251
252
«
,
,
,
253
.
»
254
255
«
?
»
.
256
257
«
,
?
?
258
,
259
.
260
261
«
?
»
262
263
«
,
264
.
»
265
266
«
,
»
,
267
,
«
268
.
»
269
270
.
271
,
272
,
-
,
273
.
274
,
275
.
276
277
.
278
,
.
279
,
280
,
.
281
.
282
283
284
,
,
,
285
,
286
,
,
287
.
288
.
289
290
291
,
292
.
293
294
«
,
»
.
,
«
295
.
296
,
.
297
,
,
,
,
298
.
299
.
,
300
.
301
,
.
»
302
303
304
,
.
305
,
306
.
307
308
.
309
,
310
,
311
,
.
312
.
313
,
,
,
,
314
-
.
315
316
,
317
.
,
318
319
.
,
320
,
321
.
,
322
,
,
,
.
323
324
«
,
»
.
«
325
.
326
,
,
327
,
328
.
,
-
,
329
330
.
»
331
332
«
-
-
,
»
,
«
333
,
334
!
»
335
336
,
337
,
,
.
338
339
«
,
»
,
«
,
340
.
,
341
,
342
.
,
343
;
,
,
344
;
,
.
»
345
346
,
347
;
,
348
,
349
.
350
351
«
,
»
.
,
«
352
.
,
,
,
353
,
,
354
,
.
355
‘
,
’
356
.
»
357
358
«
.
?
»
.
359
360
«
,
:
,
361
,
,
;
362
363
;
,
,
364
;
365
.
»
366
367
«
?
»
.
368
369
«
,
»
.
«
370
,
371
:
,
372
,
;
,
373
,
374
,
,
375
,
,
,
,
.
376
,
,
,
377
,
.
378
,
,
,
379
-
,
,
380
.
,
,
381
,
-
-
,
,
,
382
;
,
-
383
,
.
384
,
,
,
,
-
,
385
,
,
386
.
387
,
;
388
,
,
389
,
,
,
390
’
391
,
.
»
392
393
«
394
?
»
395
396
«
,
.
,
:
397
,
’
,
398
.
,
,
399
.
,
-
,
400
,
401
.
,
402
;
403
;
,
,
404
.
405
406
«
,
»
.
407
408
«
’
?
,
?
»
.
«
409
,
,
410
,
;
411
,
.
»
412
413
«
!
»
414
.
415
416
«
,
!
-
-
,
’
417
,
,
418
,
,
419
-
,
.
»
420
421
«
!
»
.
422
423
«
,
,
424
-
-
425
,
,
426
,
,
,
.
427
,
428
,
,
.
429
,
,
,
430
,
,
431
,
,
,
432
.
,
,
433
,
,
,
,
,
434
;
435
.
436
‘
;
’
,
437
;
,
-
,
438
439
440
.
,
441
.
,
442
’
,
.
!
443
,
444
,
.
445
.
»
446
447
«
!
»
,
«
?
»
448
449
«
-
,
450
.
451
;
452
.
453
454
«
,
455
456
,
.
457
,
.
458
;
459
,
460
,
,
461
,
462
.
»
463
464
«
?
»
,
.
465
466
«
,
467
’
,
468
.
469
.
,
470
,
,
,
,
471
,
,
472
,
.
»
473
474
«
?
»
.
475
476
«
,
,
;
477
,
,
478
.
,
,
,
479
-
,
480
,
.
»
481
482
483
484
485
-
.
486
487
.
-
-
488
.
-
-
.
-
-
.
-
-
.
.
-
-
489
.
-
-
.
490
491
,
.
492
493
.
,
,
494
.
’
495
,
496
.
497
498
,
,
,
499
-
,
500
.
501
,
,
502
;
-
503
.
-
-
,
504
-
,
,
-
-
505
.
506
507
,
508
,
509
,
510
-
.
511
512
’
513
,
514
.
515
516
,
517
,
518
.
519
;
520
,
521
522
,
523
.
524
525
«
‘
’
!
»
526
.
«
527
.
»
528
529
«
!
»
,
«
’
530
.
,
,
’
531
,
’
!
532
,
533
.
»
534
535
«
536
-
-
.
!
-
-
537
.
,
’
538
,
.
»
539
540
,
,
541
542
,
,
,
,
543
’
.
,
544
,
-
.
545
546
.
547
,
548
-
.
549
,
,
550
,
,
551
.
552
553
554
.
,
-
555
,
556
.
557
558
«
’
!
»
,
;
«
559
,
!
»
560
561
«
,
,
?
»
.
562
563
«
,
!
»
564
565
«
;
’
!
»
566
567
,
’
,
,
568
,
,
,
569
,
,
570
.
571
572
573
,
.
574
575
576
,
577
.
,
578
,
.
579
580
,
581
-
-
-
’
-
!
582
,
,
583
,
,
584
,
,
.
585
,
586
,
;
587
.
588
589
«
,
»
.
«
590
591
-
-
!
592
,
593
.
,
594
-
,
-
595
-
.
:
596
,
597
-
.
»
598
599
«
-
,
»
.
600
601
«
;
-
602
,
,
603
,
,
604
,
,
,
;
605
,
-
,
606
,
,
607
-
.
»
608
609
,
,
;
610
.
611
,
,
612
-
,
.
613
614
,
;
615
;
616
,
,
617
,
618
,
,
,
619
.
620
621
«
,
»
,
«
!
»
622
623
«
,
»
.
624
625
«
!
»
;
«
’
626
,
.
»
627
628
«
,
!
»
629
630
«
’
,
?
»
631
632
«
,
;
633
,
634
-
.
.
635
.
»
636
637
«
’
,
;
638
,
.
’
639
,
,
,
640
.
»
641
642
«
,
»
;
«
:
!
643
?
644
.
,
645
?
»
646
647
«
,
.
648
;
649
.
650
.
»
651
652
«
;
,
653
?
»
654
655
«
,
;
!
656
;
,
657
.
»
658
659
«
,
»
,
«
660
.
,
’
,
?
»
661
662
«
,
;
’
:
663
.
»
664
665
.
666
,
-
,
,
667
.
668
,
669
,
.
670
671
672
673
.
674
675
.
’
.
-
-
.
-
-
676
.
-
-
.
-
-
.
-
-
677
.
-
-
’
.
678
679
,
,
680
,
.
681
’
,
682
,
683
.
,
,
684
.
685
686
.
,
,
687
,
;
688
,
689
-
.
690
691
,
.
692
693
,
694
.
,
695
696
?
697
?
698
,
,
699
700
.
!
701
702
,
,
703
.
,
,
704
705
.
706
707
708
:
709
710
«
!
’
;
711
,
’
’
712
!
»
713
714
«
!
?
»
.
715
716
«
,
,
»
.
717
718
«
,
»
.
719
720
«
!
»
,
-
.
721
«
’
!
»
722
723
«
?
»
,
.
724
725
«
;
.
»
726
727
«
?
»
728
729
«
!
»
730
731
«
?
!
»
732
733
«
,
734
-
;
!
,
,
735
.
»
736
737
«
!
»
738
739
«
,
.
740
,
.
»
741
742
.
,
,
,
743
,
,
744
.
745
.
,
746
.
747
,
,
,
748
,
,
749
.
750
751
.
752
753
«
,
,
?
»
754
755
«
,
,
’
,
.
756
,
.
»
757
758
«
’
,
»
;
«
759
.
»
760
761
«
,
»
.
«
762
,
763
,
;
764
765
,
.
766
,
,
767
,
768
.
»
769
770
«
,
»
,
771
-
-
’
772
!
773
774
;
775
;
776
,
-
.
777
,
,
,
778
-
,
779
’
.
,
780
,
-
;
,
781
,
.
,
,
782
:
.
783
,
,
784
.
785
786
«
,
»
,
787
«
.
788
,
789
.
.
»
790
791
«
,
»
,
.
792
793
«
,
,
,
794
,
795
.
»
796
797
798
-
-
,
799
-
-
-
800
.
’
801
,
,
802
,
803
,
804
-
805
.
.
806
,
’
807
.
808
809
«
,
,
’
810
.
»
811
812
«
’
?
»
.
813
814
«
;
,
,
815
,
.
816
,
,
817
,
,
,
.
»
818
819
«
!
»
.
«
-
!
.
820
’
,
821
!
822
,
?
»
823
824
«
,
?
,
,
:
825
,
826
.
»
827
828
«
,
,
829
,
»
.
830
831
«
,
!
»
,
,
«
’
832
-
!
833
!
,
834
,
!
»
835
836
837
838
-
.
839
840
.
-
-
.
-
-
841
,
.
-
-
-
.
-
-
.
842
,
,
.
-
-
.
-
-
843
.
-
-
’
.
-
-
’
.
-
-
844
.
845
846
,
’
,
847
.
,
,
848
.
849
850
,
851
-
,
,
852
.
853
854
,
.
855
.
.
856
857
.
858
.
,
859
,
860
.
861
862
.
863
,
864
,
-
865
.
;
866
;
,
867
,
868
.
,
869
,
.
,
870
.
871
872
.
873
874
«
?
»
.
875
876
«
,
,
877
.
»
878
879
«
?
»
880
881
«
.
.
.
882
.
»
883
884
«
?
»
,
,
885
.
886
887
«
,
,
888
.
»
889
890
,
,
891
,
892
893
.
894
895
«
’
896
,
»
;
«
’
,
897
’
.
»
898
899
,
900
.
901
902
«
,
»
,
«
903
.
»
904
905
«
,
,
,
.
»
906
907
«
?
»
908
909
«
’
;
910
,
,
.
911
.
»
912
913
«
!
,
?
»
,
914
.
915
916
«
,
!
,
,
917
,
.
»
918
919
«
?
»
920
921
«
.
922
,
,
923
.
924
,
925
.
.
,
,
,
926
.
927
928
.
»
929
930
«
,
,
?
»
931
932
«
.
,
-
933
,
,
934
-
-
,
935
.
936
,
.
937
,
938
,
.
939
,
.
940
,
,
941
.
942
,
,
,
943
,
.
944
-
,
945
,
.
-
-
,
946
;
947
948
.
»
949
950
«
,
»
,
«
951
.
»
952
953
«
,
»
,
«
954
.
»
955
956
«
,
,
»
,
«
957
.
»
958
959
«
,
»
,
«
960
.
»
961
962
«
?
»
963
964
«
,
,
965
,
966
.
»
967
968
«
,
,
»
,
«
!
»
969
970
«
!
»
;
«
971
,
’
.
972
-
-
;
’
973
.
,
974
.
»
975
976
«
,
;
,
977
.
’
’
,
978
-
!
»
979
980
«
,
’
!
,
»
,
981
,
.
«
!
»
982
983
«
,
»
,
«
984
,
.
»
985
986
«
,
,
!
»
,
987
-
,
«
.
988
.
»
989
990
«
?
»
991
992
«
,
.
-
-
993
-
!
»
994
995
«
,
»
.
«
996
.
»
997
998
«
.
»
999
1000