Jules Verne For Children: 16 Incredible Tales of Mystery, Courage & Adventure (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
On arriving at Cape Pilares he had found the winds dead against him, and therefore made for the south, coasting along the Desolation Isle, and after going as far as the sixty-seventh degree southern latitude, had doubled Cape Horn, passed by Terra del Fuego and the Straits of Lemaire, keeping close to the Patagonian shore. At Cape Corrientes they encountered the terrible storm which had handled the travelers across the pampas so roughly, but the yacht had borne it bravely, and for the last three days had stood right out to sea, till the welcome signal-gun of the expedition was heard announcing the arrival of the anxiously-looked-for party. “It was only justice,” the captain added, “that he should mention the intrepid bearing of Lady Helena and Mary Grant throughout the whole hurricane. They had not shown the least fear, unless for their friends, who might possibly be exposed to the fury of the tempest.”
After John Mangles had finished his narrative, Glenarvan turned to Mary and said; “My dear Miss Mary, the captain has been doing homage to your noble qualities, and I am glad to think you are not unhappy on board his ship.”
“How could I be?” replied Mary naively, looking at Lady Helena, and at the young captain too, likely enough.
“Oh, my sister is very fond of you, Mr. John, and so am I,” exclaimed Robert.
“And so am I of you, my dear boy,” returned the captain, a little abashed by Robert’s innocent avowal, which had kindled a faint blush on Mary’s cheek. Then he managed to turn the conversation to safer topics by saying: “And now that your Lordship has heard all about the doings of the DUNCAN, perhaps you will give us some details of your own journey, and tell us more about the exploits of our young hero.”
Nothing could be more agreeable than such a recital to Lady Helena and Mary Grant; and accordingly Lord Glenarvan hastened to satisfy their curiosity—going over incident by incident, the entire march from one ocean to another, the pass of the Andes, the earthquake, the disappearance of Robert, his capture by the condor, Thalcave’s providential shot, the episode of the red wolves, the devotion of the young lad, Sergeant Manuel, the inundations, the caimans, the waterspout, the night on the Atlantic shore— all these details, amusing or terrible, excited by turns laughter and horror in the listeners. Often and often Robert came in for caresses from his sister and Lady Helena. Never was a boy so much embraced, or by such enthusiastic friends.
“And now, friends,” added Lord Glenarvan, when he had finished his narrative, “we must think of the present. The past is gone, but the future is ours. Let us come back to Captain Harry Grant.”
As soon as breakfast was over they all went into Lord Glenarvan’s private cabin and seated themselves round a table covered with charts and plans, to talk over the matter fully.
“My dear Helena,” said Lord Glenarvan, “I told you, when we came on board a little while ago, that though we had not brought back Captain Grant, our hope of finding him was stronger than ever. The result of our journey across America is this: We have reached the conviction, or rather absolute certainty, that the shipwreck never occurred on the shores of the Atlantic nor Pacific. The natural inference is that, as far as regards Patagonia, our interpretation of the document was erroneous. Most fortunately, our friend Paganel, in a happy moment of inspiration, discovered the mistake. He has proved clearly that we have been on the wrong track, and so explained the document that all doubt whatever is removed from our minds. However, as the document is in French, I will ask Paganel to go over it for your benefit.”
The learned geographer, thus called upon, executed his task in the most convincing manner, descanting on the syllables GONIE and INDI, and extracting AUSTRALIA out of AUSTRAL. He pointed out that Captain Grant, on leaving the coast of Peru to return to Europe, might have been carried away with his disabled ship by the southern currents of the Pacific right to the shores of Australia, and his hypotheses were so ingenious and his deductions so subtle that even the matter-of-fact John Mangles, a difficult judge, and most unlikely to be led away by any flights of imagination, was completely satisfied.
At the conclusion of Paganel’s dissertation, Glenarvan announced that the DUNCAN would sail immediately for Australia.
But before the decisive orders were given, McNabbs asked for a few minutes’ hearing.
“Say away, McNabbs,” replied Glenarvan.
“I have no intention of weakening the arguments of my friend Paganel, and still less of refuting them. I consider them wise and weighty, and deserving our attention, and think them justly entitled to form the basis of our future researches. But still I should like them to be submitted to a final examination, in order to make their worth incontestable and uncontested.”
“Go on, Major,” said Paganel; “I am ready to answer all your questions.”
“They are simple enough, as you will see. Five months ago, when we left the Clyde, we had studied these same documents, and their interpretation then appeared quite plain. No other coast but the western coast of Patagonia could possibly, we thought, have been the scene of the shipwreck. We had not even the shadow of a doubt on the subject.”
“That’s true,” replied Glenarvan.
“A little later,” continued the Major, “when a providential fit of absence of mind came over Paganel, and brought him on board the yacht, the documents were submitted to him and he approved our plan of search most unreservedly.”
“I do not deny it,” said Paganel.
“And yet we were mistaken,” resumed the Major.
“Yes, we were mistaken,” returned Paganel; “but it is only human to make a mistake, while to persist in it, a man must be a fool.”
“Stop, Paganel, don’t excite yourself; I don’t mean to say that we should prolong our search in America.”
“What is it, then, that you want?” asked Glenarvan.
“A confession, nothing more. A confession that Australia now as evidently appears to be the theater of the shipwreck of the BRITANNIA as America did before.”
“We confess it willingly,” replied Paganel.
“Very well, then, since that is the case, my advice is not to let your imagination rely on successive and contradictory evidence. Who knows whether after Australia some other country may not appear with equal certainty to be the place, and we may have to recommence our search?”
Glenarvan and Paganel looked at each other silently, struck by the justice of these remarks.
“I should like you, therefore,” continued the Major, “before we actually start for Australia, to make one more examination of the documents. Here they are, and here are the charts. Let us take up each point in succession through which the 37th parallel passes, and see if we come across any other country which would agree with the precise indications of the document.”
“Nothing can be more easily and quickly done,” replied Paganel; “for countries are not very numerous in this latitude, happily.”
“Well, look,” said the Major, displaying an English planisphere on the plan of Mercator’s Chart, and presenting the appearance of a terrestrial globe.
He placed it before Lady Helena, and then they all stood round, so as to be able to follow the argument of Paganel.
“As I have said already,” resumed the learned geographer, “after having crossed South America, the 37th degree of latitude cuts the islands of Tristan d’Acunha. Now I maintain that none of the words of the document could relate to these islands.”
The documents were examined with the most minute care, and the conclusion unanimously reached was that these islands were entirely out of the question.
“Let us go on then,” resumed Paganel. “After leaving the Atlantic, we pass two degrees below the Cape of Good Hope, and into the Indian Ocean. Only one group of islands is found on this route, the Amsterdam Isles. Now, then, we must examine these as we did the Tristan d’Acunha group.”
After a close survey, the Amsterdam Isles were rejected in their turn. Not