Jules Verne For Children: 16 Incredible Tales of Mystery, Courage & Adventure (Illustrated Edition). Jules Verne
were more than provided for. Meanwhile, Dick Sand, by Mrs. Weldon’s advice, did not neglect to take all the money which he found on board—about five hundred dollars.
That was a small sum, indeed! Mrs. Weldon had carried a larger amount herself and she did not find it again.
Who, then, except Negoro, had been able to visit the ship before them and to lay hands on Captain Hull’s and Mrs. Weldon’s reserve? No one but he, surely, could be suspected. However, Dick Sand hesitated a moment. All that he knew and all that he saw of him was that everything was to be feared from that concentrated nature, from whom the misfortunes of others could snatch a smile. Yes, Negoro was an evil being, but must they conclude from that that he was a criminal? It was painful to Dick Sand’s character to go as far as that. And, meanwhile, could suspicion rest on any other? No, those honest negroes had not left the grotto for an instant, while Negoro had wandered over the beach. He alone must be guilty. Dick Sand then resolved to question Negoro, and, if necessary, have him searched when he returned. He wished to know decidedly what to believe.
The sun was then going down to the horizon. At that date he had not yet crossed the equator to carry heat and light into the northern hemisphere, but he was approaching it. He fell, then, almost perpendicularly to that circular line where the sea and the sky meet. Twilight was short, darkness fell promptly—which confirmed the novice in the thought that he had landed on a point of the coast situated between the tropic of Capricorn and the equator.
Mrs. Weldon, Dick Sand, and the blacks then returned to the grotto, where they must take some hours’ rest.
“The night will still be stormy,” observed Tom, pointing to the horizon laden with heavy clouds.
“Yes,” replied Dick Sand, “there is a strong breeze blowing up. But what matter, at present? Our poor ship is lost, and the tempest can no longer reach us?”
“God’s will be done!” said Mrs. Weldon.
It was agreed that during that night, which would be very dark, each of the blacks would watch turn about at the entrance to the grotto. They could, besides, count upon Dingo to keep a careful watch.
They then perceived that Cousin Benedict had not returned.
Hercules called him with all the strength of his powerful lungs, and almost immediately they saw the entomologist coming down the slopes of the cliff, at the risk of breaking his neck.
Cousin Benedict was literally furious. He had not found a single new insect in the forest—no, not one—which was fit to figure in his collection. Scorpions, scolopendras, and other myriapodes, as many as he could wish, and even more, were discovered. And we know that Cousin Benedict did not interest himself in myriapodes.
“It was not worth the trouble,” added he, “to travel five or six thousand miles, to have braved the tempest, to be wrecked on the coast, and not meet one of those American hexapodes, which do honor to an entomological museum! No; the game was not worth the candle!”
As a conclusion, Cousin Benedict asked to go away. He did not wish to remain another hour on that detested shore.
Mrs. Weldon calmed her large child. They made him hope that he would be more fortunate the next day, and all went to lie down in the grotto, to sleep there till sunrise, when Tom observed that Negoro had not yet returned, though night had arrived.
“Where can he be?” asked Mrs. Weldon.
“What matter!” said Bat.
“On the contrary, it does matter,” replied Mrs. Weldon. “I should prefer having that man still near us.”
“Doubtless, Mrs. Weldon,” replied Dick Sand; “but if he has forsaken our company voluntarily, I do not see how we could oblige him to rejoin us. Who knows but he has his reasons for avoiding us forever?”
And taking Mrs. Weldon aside, Dick Sand confided to her his suspicions. He was not astonished to find that she had them also. Only they differed on one point.
“If Negoro reappears,” said Mrs. Weldon, “he will have put the product of his theft in a safe place. Take my advice. What we had better do, not being able to convict him, will be to hide our suspicions from him, and let him believe that we are his dupes.”
Mrs. Weldon was right. Dick Sand took her advice.
However, Negoro was called several times.
He did not reply. Either he was still too far away to hear, or he did not wish to return.
The blacks did not regret being rid of his presence; but, as Mrs. Weldon had just said, perhaps he was still more to be feared afar than near. And, moreover, how explain that Negoro would venture alone into that unknown country? Had he then lost his way, and on this dark night was he vainly seeking the way to the grotto?
Mrs. Weldon and Dick Sand did not know what to think. However it was, they could not, in order to wait for Negoro, deprive themselves of a repose so necessary to all.
At that moment the dog, which was running on the strand, barked aloud.
“What is the matter with Dingo?” asked Mrs. Weldon.
“We must, indeed, find out,” replied the novice. “Perhaps it is Negoro coming back.”
At once Hercules, Bat, Austin, and Dick Sand took their way to the mouth of the river.
But, arrived at the bank, they neither saw nor heard anything. Dingo now was silent.
Dick Sand and the blacks returned to the grotto.
The going to sleep was organized as well as possible. Each of the blacks prepared himself to watch in turn outside. But Mrs. Weldon, uneasy, could not sleep. It seemed to her that this land so ardently desired did not give her what she had been led to hope for, security for hers, and rest for herself.
CHAPTER XV
Harris.
The next day, April 7th, Austin, who was on guard at sunrise, saw Dingo run barking to the little river. Almost immediately Mrs. Weldon, Dick Sand and the blacks came out of the grotto.
Decidedly there was something there.
“Dingo has scented a living creature, man or beast,” said the novice.
“At all events it was not Negoro,” observed Tom, “for Dingo would bark with fury.”
“If it is not Negoro, where can he be?” asked Mrs. Weldon, giving Dick Sand a look which was only understood by him; “and if it is not he, who, then, is it?”
“We are going to see, Mrs. Weldon,” replied the novice. Then, addressing Bat, Austin, and Hercules, “Arm yourselves, my friends, and come!”
Each of the blacks took a gun and a cutlass, as Dick Sand had done. A cartridge was slipped into the breech of the Remingtons, and, thus armed, all four went to the bank of the river.
Mrs. Weldon, Tom, and Acteon remained at the entrance of the grotto, where little Jack and Nan still rested by themselves.
The sun was then rising. His rays, intercepted by the high mountains in the east, did not reach the cliff directly; but as far as the western horizon, the sea sparkled under the first fires of day.
Dick Sand and his companions followed the strand of the shore, the curve of which joined the mouth of the river.
There Dingo, motionless, and as if on guard, was continually barking.
It was evident that he saw or scented some native.
And, in fact, it was no longer against Negoro, against its enemy on board the ship, that the dog had a grudge this time.
At that moment a man turned the last plane of the cliff. He advanced prudently to the strand, and, by his familiar gestures, he sought