Jules Verne For Children: 16 Incredible Tales of Mystery, Courage & Adventure (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
“Why does not your honor give orders for a raft to be constructed? We have plenty of wood.”
“No, Wilson,” replied Glenarvan; “this Snowy is not a river, it is an impassable torrent.”
John Mangles, the Major, and Paganel just then came out of the wagon on purpose to examine the state of the river. They found it still so swollen by the heavy rain that the water was a foot above the level. It formed an impetuous current, like the American rapids. To venture over that foaming current and that rushing flood, broken into a thousand eddies and hollows and gulfs, was impossible.
John Mangles declared the passage impracticable. “But we must not stay here,” he added, “without attempting anything. What we were going to do before Ayrton’s treachery is still more necessary now.”
“What do you mean, John?” asked Glenarvan.
“I mean that our need is urgent, and that since we cannot go to Twofold Bay, we must go to Melbourne. We have still one horse. Give it to me, my Lord, and I will go to Melbourne.”
“But that will be a dangerous venture, John,” said Glenarvan. “Not to speak of the perils of a journey of two hundred miles over an unknown country, the road and the by-ways will be guarded by the accomplices of Ben Joyce.”
“I know it, my Lord, but I know also that things can’t stay long as they are; Ayrton only asked a week’s absence to fetch the crew of the DUNCAN, and I will be back to the Snowy River in six days. Well, my Lord, what are your commands?”
“Before Glenarvan decides,” said Paganel, “I must make an observation. That some one must go to Melbourne is evident, but that John Mangles should be the one to expose himself to the risk, cannot be. He is the captain of the DUNCAN, and must be careful of his life. I will go instead.”
“That is all very well, Paganel,” said the Major; “but why should you be the one to go?”
“Are we not here?” said Mulrady and Wilson.
“And do you think,” replied McNabbs, “that a journey of two hundred miles on horseback frightens me.”
“Friends,” said Glenarvan, “one of us must go, so let it be decided by drawing lots. Write all our names, Paganel.”
“Not yours, my Lord,” said John Mangles.
“And why not?”
“What! separate you from Lady Helena, and before your wound is healed, too!”
“Glenarvan,” said Paganel, “you cannot leave the expedition.”
“No,” added the Major. “Your place is here, Edward, you ought not to go.”
“Danger is involved in it,” said Glenarvan, “and I will take my share along with the rest. Write the names, Paganel, and put mine among them, and I hope the lot may fall on me.”
His will was obeyed. The names were written, and the lots drawn. Fate fixed on Mulrady. The brave sailor shouted hurrah! and said: “My Lord, I am ready to start.” Glenarvan pressed his hand, and then went back to the wagon, leaving John Mangles and the Major on watch.
Lady Helena was informed of the determination to send a message to Melbourne, and that they had drawn lots who should go, and Mulrady had been chosen. Lady Helena said a few kind words to the brave sailor, which went straight to his heart. Fate could hardly have chosen a better man, for he was not only brave and intelligent, but robust and superior to all fatigue.
Mulrady’s departure was fixed for eight o’clock, immediately after the short twilight. Wilson undertook to get the horse ready. He had a project in his head of changing the horse’s left shoe, for one off the horses that had died in the night. This would prevent the convicts from tracking Mulrady, or following him, as they were not mounted.
While Wilson was arranging this, Glenarvan got his letter ready for Tom Austin, but his wounded arm troubled him, and he asked Paganel to write it for him. The SAVANT was so absorbed in one fixed idea that he seemed hardly to know what he was about. In all this succession of vexations, it must be said the document was always uppermost in Paganel’s mind. He was always worrying himself about each word, trying to discover some new meaning, and losing the wrong interpretation of it, and going over and over himself in perplexities.
He did not hear Glenarvan when he first spoke, but on the request being made a second time, he said: “Ah, very well. I’m ready.”
While he spoke he was mechanically getting paper from his notebook. He tore a blank page off, and sat down pencil in hand to write.
Glenarvan began to dictate as follows: “Order to Tom Austin, Chief Officer, to get to sea without delay, and bring the DUNCAN to—”
Paganel was just finishing the last word, when his eye chanced to fall on the Australian and New Zealand Gazette lying on the ground. The paper was so folded that only the last two syllables of the title were visible. Paganel’s pencil stopped, and he seemed to become oblivious of Glenarvan and the letter entirely, till his friends called out: “Come, Paganel!”
“Ah!” said the geographer, with a loud exclamation.
“What is the matter?” asked the Major.
“Nothing, nothing,” replied Paganel. Then he muttered to himself, “Aland! aland! aland!”
He had got up and seized the newspaper. He shook it in his efforts to keep back the words that involuntarily rose to his lips.
Lady Helena, Mary, Robert, and Glenarvan gazed at him in astonishment, at a loss to understand this unaccountable agitation. Paganel looked as if a sudden fit of insanity had come over him. But his excitement did not last. He became by degrees calmer. The gleam of joy that shone in his eyes died away. He sat down again, and said quietly:
“When you please, my Lord, I am ready.” Glenarvan resumed his dictation at once, and the letter was soon completed. It read as follows: “Order to Tom Austin to go to sea without delay; and take the DUNCAN to Melbourne by the 37th degree of latitude to the eastern coast of Australia.”
“Of Australia?” said Paganel. “Ah yes! of Australia.”
Then he finished the letter, and gave it to Glenarvan to sign, who went through the necessary formality as well as he could, and closed and sealed the letter. Paganel, whose hand still trembled with emotion, directed it thus: “Tom Austin, Chief Officer on board the Yacht DUNCAN, Melbourne.”
Then he got up and went out of the wagon, gesticulating and repeating the incomprehensible words:
“Aland aland! aland!”
CHAPTER XVIII
Four Days of Anguish
THE rest of the day passed on without any further incident. All the preparations for Mulrady’s journey were completed, and the brave sailor rejoiced in being able to give his Lordship this proof of devotion.
Paganel had recovered his usual sang-froid and manners. His look, indeed, betrayed his preoccupation, but he seemed resolved to keep it secret. No doubt he had strong reasons for this course of action, for the Major heard him repeating, like a man struggling with himself: “No, no, they would not believe it; and, besides, what good would it be? It is too late!”
Having taken this resolution, he busied himself with giving Mulrady the necessary directions for getting to Melbourne, and showed him his way on the map. All the TRACKS, that is to say, paths through the prairie, came out on the road to Lucknow. This road, after running right down to the coast took a sudden bend in the direction of Melbourne. This was the route that must be followed steadily, for it would not do to attempt a short cut across an almost unknown country. Nothing, consequently, could be more simple. Mulrady could not lose his