"Oh, Robert!" replied Captain Mangles: "when he is not engaged with the engine he is perched at mast-head. I tell you he is a boy who mocks sea-sickness. Only look at him!"
At a gesture of the captain, all eyes were turned towards the mainmast, and every one could perceive Robert, suspended by the stays of the foretop-gallant sail, a hundred feet aloft. Mary could not restrain a motion of fear.
"Oh, be easy, miss!" said Captain Mangles. "I will answer for him, and promise you I will present, in a short time, a famous sailor to Captain Grant; for we shall find that worthy captain."
"May Heaven hear you, sir!" replied the young girl.
"My dear child," said Lord Glenarvan, "there is in all this something providential, which ought to give us hope. We are not merely going, we are led; we are not seeking blindly, we are guided. And then see all these brave people enrolled in the service of so good a cause. Not only shall we succeed in our enterprise, but it will be accomplished without difficulty. I have promised Lady Helena a pleasure voyage; and, if I am not mistaken, I shall keep my word."
"Edward," said Lady Glenarvan, "you are the best of men."
"Not so; but I have the best of crews, on the best of ships. Do you not wonder at our Duncan, Miss Mary?"
"On the contrary, my lord," answered the young girl, "I don't so much wonder as admire; for I am well acquainted with ships."
"Ah! indeed!"
"When a mere child, I played on my father's ships. He ought to have made a sailor of me. If it were necessary, perhaps I should not now be embarrassed in taking a reef or twisting a gasket."
"What is that you're saying, miss?" exclaimed the captain.
"If you talk so," continued Lord Glenarvan, "you will make a great friend of Captain John; for he thinks nothing in the world can equal the life of a sailor. He sees no other, even for a woman. Is it not so, John?"
"Undoubtedly, your lordship," replied the young captain; "and yet, I confess, Miss Grant is better in her place on deck, than taking a reef in the top-sail. But still I am very much flattered to hear her speak so."
"And especially when she admires the Duncan!" added Glenarvan.
"Right, my lord; for she deserves it."
"Upon my word," said Lady Helena, "since you are so proud of your yacht, you make me anxious to examine her to the very hold, and see how our brave sailors are quartered between-decks."
"Admirably," replied the captain; "they are quite at home there."
"Indeed they are, my dear Helena," said Lord Glenarvan. "This yacht is a part of our old Caledonia,—a detached portion of the county of Dumbarton, traveling by special favor, so that we have not left our country. The Duncan is Malcolm Castle, and the ocean is Loch Lomond."
"Well, then, my dear Edward, do the honors of the castle," said Lady Helena.
"I am at your disposal, madam," answered her husband; "but first let me inform Olbinett."
The steward of the yacht was an excellent manager, a Scotchman, who deserved to have been a Frenchman from his self-importance, and, moreover, fulfilled his duties with zeal and intelligence. He was at once ready for his master's commands.
"Olbinett, we are going to make a tour of the vessel before breakfast," said Glenarvan, as if a journey to Tarbet or Loch Katrine was in question. "I hope we shall find the table ready on our return."
Olbinett bowed gravely.
This man, tall, lank, and shriveled, might have been forty years old. He resembled a long, broad-headed nail, for his head was large and thick, his forehead high, his nose prominent, his mouth wide, and his chin blunt.
"Do you accompany us, major?" asked Lady Helena.
"If you order it," replied MacNabb.
"Oh!" said Lord Glenarvan, "the major is absorbed in the smoke of his cigar; we must not disturb him, for I assure you he is an inveterate smoker, Miss Mary; he smokes all the time, even in his sleep."
The major made a sign of assent, and the passengers descended between-decks.
MacNabb remained alone, talking to himself, according to his custom, but never contradicting himself. Enveloped in a dense cloud of smoke, he stood motionless, gazing back at the wake of the yacht. After a few moments of contemplation, he turned and found himself face to face with a new character. If anything could have surprised him, it must have been this meeting, for the passenger was absolutely unknown to him.
This man, tall, lank, and shriveled, might have been forty years old. He resembled a long, broad-headed nail, for his head was large and thick, his forehead high, his nose prominent, his mouth wide, and his chin blunt. As for his eyes, they were hidden behind enormous eye-glasses, and his look seemed to have that indecision peculiar to nyctalops. His countenance indicated an intelligent and lively person, while it had not the crabbed air of those stern people who from principle never laugh, and whose stupidity is hidden beneath a serious guise. The nonchalance and amiable freedom of this unknown nonentity clearly proved that he knew how to take men and things at their best advantage. Even without his speaking you felt that he was a talker; but he was abstracted, after the manner of those who do not see what they are looking at or hear what they are listening to. He wore a traveling cap, stout yellow buskins and leather gaiters, pantaloons of maroon velvet, and a jacket of the same material, whose innumerable pockets seemed stuffed with note-books, memoranda, scraps, portfolios, and a thousand articles as inconvenient as they were useless, not to speak of a telescope which he carried in a sling.
The curiosity of this unknown being was a singular contrast to the calmness of the major. He walked around MacNabb, and gazed at him questioningly, whilst the latter did not trouble himself whence the stranger came, whither he was going, or why he was on board the Duncan.
When this enigmatical character saw his approaches mocked by the indifference of the major, he seized his telescope, which at its full length measured four feet; and motionless, with legs straddled, like a sign-post on a highway, he pointed his instrument to the line where sky and water met. After a few moments of examination, he lowered it, and resting it on the deck, leaned upon it as upon a cane. But immediately the joints of the instrument closed, and the newly discovered passenger, whose point of support suddenly failed, was stretched at the foot of the mainmast.
Any one else in the major's place would at least have smiled, but he did not even wink. The unknown then assumed his rôle.
"Steward!" he cried, with an accent that betokened a foreigner.
He waited. No one appeared.
"Steward!" he repeated, in a louder tone.
Mr. Olbinett was passing just then on his way to the kitchen under the forecastle. What was his astonishment to hear himself thus addressed by this tall individual, who was utterly unknown to him!
"Where did this person come from?" said he to himself. "A friend of Lord Glenarvan? It is impossible."
However, he came on deck, and approached the stranger.
"Are you the steward of the vessel?" the latter asked him.
"Yes, sir," replied Olbinett; "but I have not the honor——"
"I am the passenger of cabin number six."
"Number six?" repeated the steward.
"Certainly; and your name is——?"
"Olbinett."
"Well, Olbinett, my friend," answered the stranger of cabin number six, "I must think of dinner, and acutely, too. For thirty-six hours I have eaten nothing, or, rather, have slept, which is pardonable in a man come all the way from Paris to Glasgow. What hour do you dine, if you please?"
"At nine o'clock," answered Olbinett, mechanically.
The stranger attempted to consult his watch; but this took some time, for he did not find it till he came to his ninth pocket.
"Well," said he, "it is not yet eight o'clock; therefore, Olbinett, a biscuit and a glass of sherry for the present; for I am fainting with hunger."
Olbinett listened without understanding. Moreover, the unknown kept talking, and passed from one subject to another with extreme volubility.
"Well," said he, "has not the captain risen yet? And the mate? What is he doing? Is he asleep, too? Fortunately, the weather is beautiful, the wind favorable, and the ship goes on quite by herself——"
Just as he said this, Captain Mangles appeared at the companion-way.
"Here is the captain," said Olbinett.
"Ah, I am delighted," cried the stranger, "delighted to make your acquaintance, Captain Burton!"
If any one was ever astounded, John Mangles certainly was, not less at hearing himself called "Captain Burton," than at seeing this stranger on board his vessel.
The latter continued, with more animation:
"Permit me to shake hands with you, and if I did not do so day before yesterday, it was that no one might be embarrassed at the moment of departure. But to-day, captain, I am truly happy to meet you."
Captain Mangles opened his eyes in measureless astonishment, looking first at Olbinett, and then at the new comer.
"Now," continued the latter, "the introduction is over, and we are old friends. Let us have a talk; and tell me, are you satisfied with the Scotia?"
"What do you mean by the Scotia?" asked the captain, at last.
"Why, the Scotia that carries us: a good ship, whose commander, the brave Captain Burton, I have heard praised no less for his physical than his moral qualities. Are you the father of the great African traveler of that name? If so, my compliments!"
"Sir," replied Captain Mangles, "not only am I not the father of the traveler Burton, but I am not even Captain Burton."
"Ah!" said the unknown, "it is the mate of the Scotia then, Mr. Burdness, whom I am addressing at this moment?"
"Mr. Burdness?" replied Captain Mangles, who began to suspect the truth. But was he talking to a fool, or a rogue? This was a question in his mind, and he was about to explain himself intelligibly, when Lord Glenarvan, his wife, and Miss Grant came on deck.
The stranger perceived them, and cried,—
"Ah! passengers! passengers! excellent! I hope, Mr. Burdness, you are going to introduce me——"
And advancing with perfect ease, without waiting for the captain,—
"Madam" said he to Miss Grant, "Miss" to Lady Helena, "Sir" he added, addressing Lord Glenarvan.
"Lord Glenarvan," said Captain Mangles.
"My lord," continued the unknown, "I beg your pardon for introducing myself, but at sea we must relax a little from etiquette. I hope we shall soon be acquainted, and that, in the society of these ladies, the passage of the Scotia will seem as short to us as agreeable."
Lady Helena and Miss Grant could not find a word to answer. They were completely bewildered by the presence of this intruder.
"Sir," said Glenarvan, at length, "whom have I the honor of addressing?"
"Jacques Eliacim François 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 passing twenty years of his life in studying geography, designs now to enter upon a roving life, and is directing his course to India to continue there the labors of the great travelers."
CHAPTER VII.
JACQUES PAGANEL IS UNDECEIVED.
The secretary of the Geographical Society must have been an agreeable person, for all this was said with much modesty. Lord Glenarvan, moreover, knew perfectly whom he had met. The name and merit of Jacques Paganel were well known to him. His geographical labors, his reports on modern discoveries, published in the bulletins of the Society, his correspondence with the entire world, had made him one of the most distinguished scientific men of France. Thus Glenarvan extended his hand very cordially to his unexpected guest.
"And now that our introduction is over," added he, "will you permit me, Monsieur Paganel, to ask you a question?"
"Twenty, my lord," replied Jacques Paganel; "it will always be a pleasure to converse with you."
"You arrived on board this vessel the day before yesterday?"
"Yes, my lord, day before yesterday, at eight o'clock in the evening. I took a cab from the Caledonian Railway to the Scotia, in which I had engaged cabin number six at Paris. The night was dark. I saw no one on board. Feeling fatigued by thirty hours of travel, and knowing that a good way to avoid sea-sickness is to go to bed on embarking, and not stir from your bunk for the first days of the voyage, I retired immediately, and have conscientiously slept thirty-six hours, I assure you."
Jacques Paganel's hearers now knew the reason of his presence on board. The Frenchman, mistaking the vessel, had embarked while the crew of the Duncan were engaged in the ceremony at Saint Mungo. Everything was explained. But what would the geographer say, when he learned the name and destination of the vessel on which he had taken passage?
"So, Monsieur Paganel," said Glenarvan, "you have chosen Calcutta as your centre of action?"
"Yes, my lord. To see India is an idea that I have cherished all my life. It is my brightest dream, which shall be realized at last in the country of the elephants and the Thugs."
"Then you would not care to visit another country?"
"No, my lord; it would be even disagreeable, for I have letters from Lord Somerset to the governor-general of India, and a mission from the Geographical Society which I must fulfil."
"Ah! you have a mission?"
"Yes, a useful and curious voyage to undertake, the programme of which has been arranged by my scientific friend and colleague, M. Vivien de Saint Martin. It is to follow in the steps of the brothers Schlagintweit, and many other celebrated travelers. I hope to succeed where Missionary Krick unfortunately failed in 1846. In a word, I wish to discover the course of the Yaroo-tsang-bo-tsoo, which waters Thibet, and finally to settle whether this river does not join the Brahmapootra in the northeast part of Assam. A gold medal is promised to that traveler who shall succeed in supplying this much-needed information on Indian geography."
Paganel was grandiloquent. He spoke with a lofty animation, and was carried away in the rapid flight of imagination. It would have been as impossible to check him as to stay the Rhine at the Falls of Schaffhausen.
"Monsieur Jacques Paganel," said Lord Glenarvan, after a moment of silence, "that is certainly a fine voyage, and one for which science would be very grateful; but I will not further prolong your ignorance. For the present, you must give up the pleasure of seeing India."
Paganel was grandiloquent. He spoke with a lofty animation, and was carried away in the rapid flight of imagination.
"Because you are turning your back upon the Indian peninsula."
"How? Captain Burton——"
"I am not Captain Burton," replied John Mangles.
"But the Scotia?"
"This vessel is not the Scotia."
Paganel's amazement cannot be depicted. He looked first at Lord Glenarvan, always serious; then at Lady Helena and Miss Grant, whose features expressed a sympathetic disappointment; and finally at Captain Mangles, who was smiling, and the imperturbable major. Then, raising his shoulders and drawing down his glasses from his forehead to his eyes, he exclaimed,—
"What a joke!"
But at that his eyes fell upon the steering wheel, on which were inscribed these two words, thus:
"The Duncan! the Duncan!" he cried in a tone of real despair; and, leaping down the companion-way, he rushed to his cabin.
When the unfortunate geographer had disappeared, no one on board, except the major, could retain gravity, and the laugh was communicated even to the sailors. To mistake the railroad was not so bad; to take the train to Dumbarton, instead of Edinburgh, would do. But to mistake the vessel, and be sailing to Chili, when he wished to go to India, was the height of absent-mindedness.
"On the whole, I am not astonished at this on the part of Jacques Paganel," said Glenarvan; "he is noted for such blunders. He once published a celebrated map of America, in which he located Japan. However, he is a distinguished scholar, and one of the best geographers of France."
"But what are we going to do with the poor gentleman?" asked Lady Helena. "We cannot take him to Patagonia."
"Why not?" replied MacNabb gravely. "We are not responsible for his errors. Suppose he were in a railroad car, would it stop for him?"
"No; but he could get out at the first station," answered Lady Helena.
"Well," said Glenarvan, "he can do so now, if he pleases, at our first landing."
At this moment Paganel, woeful and humble, reappeared on deck, after convincing himself that his baggage was on board. He kept repeating those fatal words: "The Duncan! the Duncan!" He could find no others in his vocabulary. He went to and fro, examining the rigging of the yacht, and questioning the mute horizon of the open sea. At last he returned to Lord Glenarvan.
"And this Duncan is going——?" he asked.
"To America, Monsieur Paganel."
"And where especially?"
"To Concepcion."
"To Chili! to Chili!" cried the unfortunate geographer. "And my mission to India! But what will M. de Quatrefages say, the President of the Central Commission? How shall I represent myself at the sessions of the Society?"
"Come, monsieur," said Glenarvan, "do not despair. Everything can be arranged, and you will only have to submit to a delay of little consequence. The Yaroo-tsang-bo-tsoo will wait for you in the mountains of Thibet. We shall soon reach Madeira, and there you will find a vessel to take you back to Europe."
"I thank you, my lord, and must be resigned. But we can say this is an extraordinary adventure, which would not have happened but for me. And my cabin which is engaged on board the Scotia?"
"Oh, as for the Scotia, I advise you to give her up for the present."
"But," said Paganel after examining the vessel again, "the Duncan is a pleasure yacht."
"Yes, sir," replied Captain Mangles, "and belongs to his lordship, Lord Glenarvan——"
"Who begs you to make free use of his hospitality," said Glenarvan.
"A thousand thanks, my lord," replied Paganel; "I am truly sensible to your courtesy. But permit me to make a simple remark. India is a beautiful country. It offers marvelous surprises to travelers. These ladies have probably never visited it. Well, the man at the helm needs only to give a turn to the wheel, and the Duncan will go as easily to Calcutta as Concepcion. Now, since this is a pleasure voyage——"
The negative reception that met Paganel's proposal did not permit him to develop it. He paused.
"Monsieur Paganel," said Lady Helena at length, "if this were only a pleasure voyage, I would answer: 'Let us all go to India,' and Lord Glenarvan would not disapprove. But the Duncan is going to recover some shipwrecked sailors, abandoned on the coast of Patagonia; and she cannot change so humane a course."
In a few moments the Frenchman was acquainted with the situation of affairs, and learned, not without emotion, the providential discovery of the documents, the story of Captain Grant, and Lady Helena's generous proposal.
"Madam," said he, "permit me to admire your conduct in all this, and to admire it without reserve. May your yacht continue on her course; I would reproach myself for delaying her a single day."
"Will you then join in our search?" asked Lady Helena.
"It is impossible, madam; I must fulfil my mission. I shall disembark at your first landing."
"At Madeira then," said Captain Mangles.
"At Madeira let it be. I shall be only one hundred and eighty leagues from Lisbon, and will wait there for means of further conveyance."
"Well, Monsieur Paganel," said Glenarvan, "it shall be as you desire; and, for my part, I am happy that I can offer you for a few days the hospitalities of my vessel. May you not grow weary of our company."
"Oh, my lord," exclaimed the geographer, "I am still too happy in being so agreeably disappointed. However, it is a very ludicrous situation for a man who takes passage for India, and is sailing to America."
In spite of this mortifying reflection, Paganel made the best use of a delay that he could not avoid. He showed himself amiable, and even gay; he enchanted the ladies with his good humor, and before the end of the day he was the friend of every one. At his request the famous document was shown to him. He studied it carefully, long and minutely. No other interpretation appeared to him possible. Mary Grant and her brother inspired him with the liveliest interest. He gave them good hopes. His way of distinguishing the events, and the undeniable success that he predicted for the Duncan, elicited a smile from the young girl.
As to Lady Helena, when he learned that she was the daughter of William Tuffnel, there was an outburst of surprise and admiration. He had known her father. What a bold discoverer! How many letters they had exchanged when the latter was corresponding member of the Society! He it was who had introduced him to M. Malte-Brun. What a meeting! and how much pleasure to travel with the daughter of such a man! Finally, he asked Lady Helena's permission to kiss her, to which she consented, although it was perhaps a little "improper."
CHAPTER VIII.
THE GEOGRAPHER'S RESOLUTION.
Meanwhile the yacht, favored by the currents, was advancing rapidly towards the equator. In a few days the island of Madeira came in view. Glenarvan, faithful to his promise, offered to land his new guest here.
"My dear lord," replied Paganel, "I will not be formal with you. Before my arrival on board, did you intend to stop at Madeira?"
"No," said Glenarvan.
"Well, permit me to profit by the consequences of my unlucky blunder. Madeira is an island too well known. Everything has been said and written about it; and it is, moreover, rapidly declining in point of civilization. If, then, it is all the same to you, let us land at the Canaries."
"Very well, at the Canaries," replied Glenarvan. "That will not take us out of our way."
"I know it, my dear lord. At the Canaries, you see, there are three groups to study, not to speak of the Peak of Teneriffe, which I have always desired to see. This is a fine opportunity. I will profit by it; and, while waiting for a vessel, will attempt the ascent of this celebrated mountain."
"As you please, my dear Paganel," replied Glenarvan, who could not help smiling, and with good reason.
The Canaries are only a short distance from Madeira, scarcely two hundred and fifty miles, a mere trifle for so good a vessel as the Duncan.
The same day, at two o'clock in the afternoon, Captain Mangles and Paganel were walking on the deck. The Frenchman pressed his companion with lively questions concerning Chili. All at once the captain interrupted him, and pointing towards the southern horizon, said,—
"Mr. Paganel!"
"My dear captain," replied the geographer.
"Please cast your eyes in that direction. Do you see nothing?"
"Nothing."
"You are not looking right. It is not on the horizon, but above, in the clouds."
"In the clouds? I look in vain."
"Stop, now, just on a line with the end of the bowsprit."
"I see nothing."
"You do not wish to see. However that may be, although we are forty miles distant, you understand, the Peak of Teneriffe is visible above the horizon."
Whether Paganel wished to see or not, he had to yield to the evidence some hours afterwards, or, at least, confess himself blind.
"You perceive it now?" said his companion.
"Yes, yes, perfectly!" replied Paganel. "And that," added he in a contemptuous tone, "is what you call the Peak of Teneriffe?"
"The same."
"It appears to be of very moderate height."
"Yet it is eleven thousand feet above the level of the sea."
"Not so high as Mont Blanc."
"Very possibly; but when you come to climb it, you will find it, perhaps, high enough."
They could scarcely see the city, which was on an elevated plain in the form of a terrace, resting on volcanic rocks three hundred feet in height. The appearance of the island through this rainy curtain was misty.
"Oh! climb it, my dear captain? What is the use, I ask you, after Humboldt and Bonpland? What can I do after these great men?"
Peak of Teneriffe.
"Indeed," replied Captain Mangles, "there is nothing left but to wander about. It is a pity, for you would be very tired waiting for a vessel at Teneriffe. You cannot look for many distractions there."
"Except my own," said Paganel, laughing. "But, my dear captain, have not the Cape Verd Islands important landings?"
"Certainly. Nothing is easier than to land at Villa-Praïa."
"Not to speak of an advantage that is not to be despised," answered Paganel; "that the Cape Verd Islands are not far from Senegal, where I shall find fellow-countrymen."
"As you please, Mr. Paganel," replied Captain Mangles. "I am certain that geographical science will gain by your sojourn in these islands. We must land there to take in coal; you will, therefore, cause us no delay."
So saying, the captain gave the order to pass to the southeast of the Canaries. The celebrated peak was soon left on the larboard; and the Duncan, continuing her rapid course, cut the Tropic of Cancer the next morning at five o'clock. The weather there changed. The atmosphere had the moisture and oppressiveness of the rainy season, disagreeable to travelers, but beneficial to the inhabitants of the African islands, who have no trees, and consequently need water. The sea was boisterous, and prevented the passengers from remaining on deck; but the conversation in the cabin was not less animated.
The next day Paganel began to collect his baggage preparatory to his approaching departure. In a short time they entered the bay of Villa-Praïa, and anchored opposite the city in eight fathoms of water. The weather was stormy and the surf high, although the bay was sheltered from the winds. The rain fell in torrents so that they could scarcely see the city, which was on an elevated plain in the form of a terrace, resting on volcanic rocks three hundred feet in height. The appearance of the island through this rainy curtain was misty.
Shipping the coal was not accomplished without great difficulty, and the passengers saw themselves confined to the cabin, while sea and sky mingled their waters in an indescribable tumult. The weather was, therefore, the topic of conversation on board. Each one had his say except the major, who would have witnessed the deluge itself with perfect indifference. Paganel walked to and fro, shaking his head.
"It is an imperative fact," said he.
"It is certain," replied Glenarvan, "that the elements declare themselves against you."
"I will see about that."
"You cannot face such a storm," said Lady Helena.
"I, madam? Certainly. I fear only for my baggage and instruments. They will all be lost."
"Our landing is the only thing doubtful," resumed Glenarvan. "Once at Villa-Praïa, you will not have very uncomfortable quarters; rather uncleanly, to be sure, in the company of monkeys and swine, whose surroundings are not always agreeable; but a traveler does not regard that so critically. Besides, you can hope in seven or eight months to embark for Europe."
"Seven or eight months!" exclaimed Paganel.
"At least that. The Cape Verd Islands are very rarely frequented during the rainy season. But you can employ your time profitably. This archipelago is still little known. There is much to do, even now."
"But," replied Paganel in a pitiful tone, "what could I do after the investigations of the geologist Deville?"
"That is really a pity," said Lady Helena. "What will become of you, Monsieur Paganel?"
Paganel was silent for a few moments.
"You had decidedly better have landed at Madeira," rejoined Glenarvan, "although there is no wine there."
"My dear Glenarvan," continued Paganel at last, "where shall you land next?"
"At Concepcion."
"Alas! but that would bring me directly away from India!"
"No; for when you have passed Cape Horn you approach the Indies."
"I very much doubt it."
"Besides," continued Glenarvan with the greatest gravity, "as long as you are at the Indies, what difference does it make whether they are the East or the West?"
"'What difference does it make'?"
"The inhabitants of the Pampas of Patagonia are Indians as well as the natives of the Punjab."
"Eh! my lord," exclaimed Paganel, "that is a reason I should never have imagined!"
"And then, my dear Paganel, you know that you can gain the gold medal in any country whatever. There is something to do, to seek, to discover, everywhere, in the chains of the Cordilleras as well as the mountains of Thibet."
"But the course of the Yaroo-tsang-bo-tsoo?"
"Certainly. You can replace that by the Rio Colorado. This is a river very little known, and one of those which flow on the map too much according to the fancy of the geographer."
"I know it, my dear lord; there are errors of several degrees. I do not doubt that at my request the Society would have sent me to Patagonia as well as to India; but I did not think of it."
"The result of your continual abstraction."
"Well, Monsieur Paganel, shall you accompany us?" asked Lady Helena in her most persuasive tone.
"And my mission, madam?"
"I inform you that we shall pass through the Strait of Magellan," continued Glenarvan.
"My lord, you are a tempter."
"I add that we shall visit Port Famine."
"Port Famine!" cried the Frenchman, assailed on all sides; "that port so celebrated in geographical fasts!"
"Consider also, Monsieur Paganel," continued Lady Helena, "that in this enterprise you will have the right to associate the name of France with that of Scotland."
"Yes; doubtless."
"A geographer may be very serviceable to our expedition; and what is more noble than for science to enlist in the service of humanity?"
"That is well said, madam."
"Believe me, try chance, or rather Providence. Imitate us. It has sent us this document; we have started. It has cast you on board the Duncan; do not leave her."
"And do you, indeed, wish me, my good friends?" replied Paganel. "Well, you desire me to stay very much?"
"And you, Paganel, you are dying to stay," retorted Glenarvan.
"Truly," cried the geographer, "but I fear I am very indiscreet."
Thus far the Duncan had acquitted herself admirably: in every way her powers for steaming or sailing had been sufficiently tested, and her captain and passengers were alike satisfied with her performance and with one another.
CHAPTER IX.
THROUGH THE STRAIT OF MAGELLAN.
The joy on board was general, when Paganel's resolution was known. Young Robert threw himself on his neck with very demonstrative delight. The worthy geographer almost fell backwards. "A rough little gentleman," said he; "I will teach him geography." As Captain Mangles had engaged to make him a sailor, Glenarvan a man of honor, the major a boy of coolness, Lady Helena a noble and generous being, and Mary Grant a pupil grateful towards such patrons, Robert was evidently to become one day an accomplished gentleman.
The Duncan soon finished shipping her coal, and then leaving these gloomy regions she gained the current from the southeast coast of Brazil, and, after crossing the equator with a fine breeze from the north, she entered the southern hemisphere. The passage was effected without difficulty, and every one had good hopes. On this voyage in search of Captain Grant, the probabilities increased every day. Their captain was one of the most confident on board; but his confidence proceeded especially from the desire that he cherished so strongly at heart, of seeing Miss Mary happy and consoled. He was particularly interested in this young girl; and this feeling he concealed so well, that, except Miss Grant and himself, no one on board the Duncan had perceived it.
As for the learned geographer, he was probably the happiest man in the southern hemisphere. He passed his time in studying the maps with which he covered the cabin-table; and then followed daily discussions with Mr. Olbinett, so that he could scarcely set the table.
But Paganel had all the passengers on his side except the major, who was very indifferent to geographical questions, especially at dinner-time. Having discovered a whole cargo of odd books in the mate's chests, and among them a number of Cervantes' works, the Frenchman resolved to learn Spanish, which nobody on board knew, and which would facilitate his search on the shores of Chili. Thanks to his love for philology, he did not despair of speaking this new tongue fluently on arriving at Concepcion. He therefore studied assiduously, and was heard incessantly muttering heterogeneous syllables. During his leisure hours he did not fail to give young Robert practical instruction, and taught him the history of the country they were rapidly approaching.
In the meantime the Duncan was proceeding at a remarkable rate. She cut the Tropic of Capricorn, and her prow was headed toward the strait of the celebrated geographer. Now and then the low shores of Patagonia were seen, but like an almost invisible line on the horizon. They sailed along the coast for more than ten miles, but Paganel's famous telescope gave him only a vague idea of these American shores.
The vessel soon found herself at the head of the strait, and entered without hesitation. This way is generally preferred by steam-vessels bound for the Pacific. Its exact length is three hundred and seventy-six miles. Ships of the greatest tonnage can always find deep water, even near its shores, an excellent bottom, and many springs of water. The rivers abound in fish, the forest in game, there are safe and easy landings at twenty places, and, in short, a thousand resources that are wanting in the Strait of Lemaire, and off the terrible rocks of Cape Horn, which are continually visited by storms and tempests.
During the first hours of the passage, till you reach Cape Gregory, the shores are low and sandy. The entire passage lasted scarcely thirty-six hours, and this moving panorama of the two shores well rewarded the pains the geographer took to admire it under the radiant beams of the southern sun. No inhabitant appeared on the shores of the continent; and only a few Fuegians wandered along the barren rocks of Terra del Fuego.
At one moment the Duncan rounded the peninsula of Brunswick between two magnificent sights. Just here the strait cuts between stupendous masses of granite. The base of the mountains was hidden in the heart of immense forests, while their summits, whitened with eternal snow, were lost in the clouds. Towards the southeast Mount Taru towered six thousand five hundred feet aloft. Night came, preceded by a long twilight, the light melting away insensibly by gentle degrees, while the sky was studded with brilliant stars.
In the midst of this partial obscurity, the yacht boldly continued on her course, without casting anchor in the safe bays with which the shores abound. Sometimes the tips of her yards would graze the branches of the beeches that hung over the waves. At others her propeller would beat the waters of the great rivers, starting geese, ducks, snipe, teal, and all the feathered tribes of the marshes. Soon deserted ruins appeared, and fallen monuments, to which the night lent a grand aspect; these were the mournful remains of an abandoned colony, whose name will be an eternal contradiction to the fertility of the coasts and the rich game of the forests. It was Port Famine, the place that the Spaniard Sarmiento colonized in 1581 with four hundred emigrants. Here he founded the city of San Felipe. But the extreme severity of the cold weakened the colony; famine devoured those whom the winter had spared, and in 1587 the explorer Cavendish found the last of these four hundred unfortunates dying of hunger amid the ruins of a city only six years in existence.