Jules Verne For Children: 16 Incredible Tales of Mystery, Courage & Adventure (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
to Australia,” continued Paganel.
“The 37th parallel touches this continent at Cape Bernouilli, and leaves it at Twofold Bay. You will agree with me that, without straining the text, the English word STRA and the French one AUSTRAL may relate to Australia. The thing is too plain to need proof.”
The conclusion of Paganel met with unanimous approval; every probability was in his favor.
“And where is the next point?” asked McNabbs.
“That is easily answered. After leaving Twofold Bay, we cross an arm of the sea which extends to New Zealand. Here I must call your attention to the fact that the French word CONTIN means a continent, irrefragably. Captain Grant could not, then, have found refuge in New Zealand, which is only an island. However that may be though, examine and compare, and go over and over each word, and see if, by any possibility, they can be made to fit this new country.”
“In no way whatever,” replied John Mangles, after a minute investigation of the documents and the planisphere.
“No,” chimed in all the rest, and even the Major himself, “it cannot apply to New Zealand.”
“Now,” went on Paganel, “in all this immense space between this large island and the American coast, there is only one solitary barren little island crossed by the 37th parallel.”
“And what is its name,” asked the Major.
“Here it is, marked in the map. It is Maria Theresa—a name of which there is not a single trace in either of the three documents.”
“Not the slightest,” said Glenarvan.
“I leave you, then, my friends, to decide whether all these probabilities, not to say certainties, are not in favor of the Australian continent.”
“Evidently,” replied the captain and all the others.
“Well, then, John,” said Glenarvan, “the next question is, have you provisions and coal enough?”
“Yes, your honor, I took in an ample store at Talcahuano, and, besides, we can easily replenish our stock of coal at Cape Town.”
“Well, then, give orders.”
“Let me make one more observation,” interrupted McNabbs.
“Go on then.”
“Whatever likelihood of success Australia may offer us, wouldn’t it be advisable to stop a day or two at the Tristan d’Acunha Isles and the Amsterdam? They lie in our route, and would not take us the least out of the way. Then we should be able to ascertain if the BRITANNIA had left any traces of her shipwreck there?”
“Incredulous Major!” exclaimed Paganel, “he still sticks to his idea.”
“I stick to this any way, that I don’t want to have to retrace our steps, supposing that Australia should disappoint our sanguine hopes.”
“It seems to me a good precaution,” replied Glenarvan.
“And I’m not the one to dissuade you from it,” returned Paganel; “quite the contrary.”
“Steer straight for Tristan d’Acunha.”
“Immediately, your Honor,” replied the captain, going on deck, while Robert and Mary Grant overwhelmed Lord Glenarvan with their grateful thanks.
Shortly after, the DUNCAN had left the American coast, and was running eastward, her sharp keel rapidly cutting her way through the waves of the Atlantic Ocean.
CHAPTER II
Tristan D’Acunha and the Isle Of Amsterdam
IF the yacht had followed the line of the equator, the 196 degrees which separate Australia from America, or, more correctly, Cape Bernouilli from Cape Corrientes, would have been equal to 11,760 geographical miles; but along the 37th parallel these same degrees, owing to the form of the earth, only represent 9,480 miles. From the American coast to Tristan d’Acunha is reckoned 2,100 miles— a distance which John Mangles hoped to clear in ten days, if east winds did not retard the motion of the yacht. But he was not long uneasy on that score, for toward evening the breeze sensibly lulled and then changed altogether, giving the DUNCAN a fair field on a calm sea for displaying her incomparable qualities as a sailor.
The passengers had fallen back into their ordinary ship life, and it hardly seemed as if they really could have been absent a whole month. Instead of the Pacific, the Atlantic stretched itself out before them, and there was scarcely a shade of difference in the waves of the two oceans. The elements, after having handled them so roughly, seemed now disposed to favor them to the utmost. The sea was tranquil, and the wind kept in the right quarter, so that the yacht could spread all her canvas, and lend its aid, if needed to the indefatigable steam stored up in the boiler.
Under such conditions, the voyage was safely and rapidly accomplished. Their confidence increased as they found themselves nearer the Australian coast. They began to talk of Captain Grant as if the yacht were going to take him on board at a given port. His cabin was got ready, and berths for the men. This cabin was next to the famous number six, which Paganel had taken possession of instead of the one he had booked on the SCOTIA. It had been till now occupied by M. Olbinett, who vacated it for the expected guest. Mary took great delight in arranging it with her own hands, and adorning it for the reception of the loved inmate.
The learned geographer kept himself closely shut up. He was working away from morning till night at a work entitled “Sublime Impressions of a Geographer in the Argentine Pampas,” and they could hear him repeating elegant periods aloud before committing them to the white pages of his day-book; and more than once, unfaithful to Clio, the muse of history, he invoked in his transports the divine Calliope, the muse of epic poetry.
Paganel made no secret of it either. The chaste daughters of Apollo willingly left the slopes of Helicon and Parnassus at his call. Lady Helena paid him sincere compliments on his mythological visitants, and so did the Major, though he could not forbear adding:
“But mind no fits of absence of mind, my dear Paganel; and if you take a fancy to learn Australian, don’t go and study it in a Chinese grammar.”
Things went on perfectly smoothly on board. Lady Helena and Lord Glenarvan found leisure to watch John Mangles’ growing attachment to Mary Grant. There was nothing to be said against it, and, indeed, since John remained silent, it was best to take no notice of it.
V. IV Verne
“What will Captain Grant think?” Lord Glenarvan asked his wife one day.
“He’ll think John is worthy of Mary, my dear Edward, and he’ll think right.”
Meanwhile, the yacht was making rapid progress. Five days after losing sight of Cape Corrientes, on the 16th of November, they fell in with fine westerly breezes, and the DUNCAN might almost have dispensed with her screw altogether, for she flew over the water like a bird, spreading all her sails to catch the breeze, as if she were running a race with the Royal Thames Club yachts.
Next day, the ocean appeared covered with immense seaweeds, looking like a great pond choked up with the DEBRIS of trees and plants torn off the neighboring continents. Commander Murray had specially pointed them out to the attention of navigators. The DUNCAN appeared to glide over a long prairie, which Paganel justly compared to the Pampas, and her speed slackened a little.
Twenty-four hours after, at break of day, the man on the lookout was heard calling out, “Land ahead!”
“In what direction?” asked Tom Austin, who was on watch.
“Leeward!” was the reply.
This exciting cry brought everyone speedily on deck. Soon a telescope made its appearance, followed by Jacques Paganel. The learned geographer pointed the instrument