 II. An exciting chase. To say the truth it was a very vaguest of hopes to which Mrs. Walden had been clinging, yet it was not without some thrill of disappointment that she heard from the lips of Aldervas himself that Dr. Livingston had died at a little village on Lake Banguela. There had appeared to be a sort of link biting her to the civilized world, but it was now abruptly snapped, and nothing remained for her but to make what terms she could with the base and heartless Nagoro. On the fourteenth day appointed for the interview he made his appearance to the hut, firmly resolved to make no abatement in the terms that he had proposed. Mrs. Walden on her part, being equally determined not to yield to demand. There is only one condition she avowed, upon which I will acquiesce. My husband shall not be required to come up the country here." Nagoro hesitated. At length he said that he would agree to her husband being taken by ship to Mosomedes, a small port in the south of Angola, much frequented by slavers, with her also at a date hereafter to be fixed. Alva should send herself with Jack and Benedict. The stipulation was confirmed that the ransom should be a hundred thousand dollars, and it was further made part of the contract that Nagoro should be allowed to depart as an honest man. Mrs. Walden felt she had gained an important point in thus sparing her husband the necessity of a journey to Kazande, and had no apprehensions about herself on her way to Mosomedes, knowing that it was to the interest of Alva's and Nagoro-like to attend carefully to her wants. Upon the turns of the covenant being thus arranged, Mrs. Walden wrote such a letter to her husband, as she knew would bring him with all speed to Mosomedes, but she left it entirely to Nagoro to represent himself in whatever light he chose. Once in possession of the document, Nagoro lost no time in starting on his errand. The very next morning, taken with him about twenty Negroes, he set off towards the north, alleging to Alva as his motive for taking that direction, that he was not only going to embark somewhere at the mouth of the Congo, but that he was anxious to keep as far as possible from the prison houses of the Portuguese, with which already had been involuntarily only too familiar. After his departure Mrs. Walden resolved to make the best of her period for imprisonment, where they could hardly be less than four months before he would return. She had no desire to go beyond the precincts assigned to her, even had the privilege been allowed to her, but warned by Nagoro that her clies were still free, and might at any time attend to rescue. Alva's had no thought of permitting her any unnecessary liberty. A life therefore soon resumed its previous monotony. The daily routine went on within the enclosure pretty much as in other parts of the town. The women all being employed in various labours for the benefit of their husbands and masters. The rice was pounded with wooden pestles. The maize was peeled and winnowed, previously to extract in the granule substance for the drink which they call munteli. The sorghum had to be gathered in, the season of its ripening being marked by festive observances. There was a fragrant oil to be expressed from a kind of olive, named the umpafu. The cotton had to be spun on spindles, which were hardly less than a foot and a half in length. There was the bark of trees to be woven in detections for wearing. The manioc had to be dug up, and the cassava procured from its roots. Beside all this, there was the preparation of the soil for its future plantings, the usual productions of the country, being the mordid sane beans, grown in pots, fifteen inches long, upon stems, twenty feet high. The arachidas, for which they procure a serviceable oil, the chilobepi, the blossoms of which are used to give a flavour to the insipid sorghum, the cucumbers of which the seeds are roasted as chestnuts, as well as the common crops of coffee, sugar, onions, guavas, and sesame. The woman's lot, too, follows the manipulation of all the fermented drinks, the malafu, made from bananas, the pombe, and various other liquours, nor should the care of the domestic animals be forgotten, the cows that would not allow themselves to be milked, unless they can see their calf, or a stuffed representative of it, the short horned heifers that not unfulcally have a hump, the goats that, like slaves, form part of the currency of the country, the pigs, the sheep, and the poultry. The men, meanwhile, smoke their hemp or tobacco, hunt buffaloes or elephants, or are hired by the dealers to join in the slave raids, the harvest of slaves, in fact, being a thing of as regular and periodic recurrence as the in-gathering of the maize. In her daily strolls Mrs. Budden would occasionally pause to watch the women, but they only responded to her notice by a long stare or by a hideous grimace. The kind of natural instinct made them hate a white skin, and they had no spark of commiseration for the stranger who had been brought among them. Halima, however, was a marked deception. She grew more and more devoted to her mistress, and by degrees the two became able to exchange many sentences in the native dialect. Jack generally accompanied his mother. Naturally enough he longed to get outside the enclosure, but silly found considerable amusement in watching the birds, the built in a huge baubab that grew within. There were marabous, making their nests with twigs. There were scarlet-throated sui-mangas, with nests like weaver-birds, widow-birds that helped themselves liberally to the fetch of the huts. Kalaos, with their tuneful song, gray parrots with bright red tails, called roofs by their manuema, who apply the same name to their raiding chiefs, and insect-eating drongos, like grayed linets with large red beaks. Hundreds of butterflies flitted about, especially in the neighborhood of the Brooks, but these were more to the taste of cousin Benedict than of little Jack. Over and over again the child expressed his regret that he could not see over the walls, and more than ever he seemed to miss his friend Dick, who had taught him to climb a mast, and who was sure would have find fun with him in the branches of the trees, which were growing sometimes to the height of a hundred feet. So long as the supply of insects did not fail, Benedict would have been contented to stay on without a murmur in his present quarters. True, without his glasses he worked at a disadvantage, but he had had the good fortune to discover a minute bee that forms itself in the holes of warm, eaten wood, and a specks that practices the craft of the cuckoo, and deposits its eggs in an abode not prepared by itself. Mosquitoes abounded in swarms, and the worthy naturalist was so covered by their stings as to be hardly recognizable. But when Mrs. Valdover monstrated with him for exposing himself so unnecessarily, he really scratched the irritated places on his skin and said, It is their instinct, you know, it is their instinct. On the 17th of June an adventure happened to him which was attended with unexpected consequences. It was about eleven o'clock in the morning. The insufferable heat had driven all the residents within the depot and doors, and not a native was to be seen in the streets of Cazonde. With his bottom was dosing, Jack was fast asleep. Benedict himself, sorely against his will, for he heard the hum of many an insect in the sunshine, had been driven to the seclusion of his cabin, and was falling into an involuntary siesta. Suddenly a buzz was heard, an insect's wing vibrating some fifteen thousand beats a second. A hexapod cried Benedict, sitting up. Short-sighted though he was, his hearing was acute, and his perception made him thoroughly convinced that he was in proximity to some giant specimen of its kind. Without moving from his seat he did his utmost to ascertain what it was. He was determined not to flinch from the sharpest of stings, if only he could get the chance of capturing it. Presently he made out a large black speck, flitting about in the few rays of daylight that were allowed to penetrate the hut. With a bated breath he waited an eager expectation. The insect, after long hovering above him, finally settled on his head. A smallest satisfaction played about his lips as he felt it, crawling lightly through his hair. Equally fearful and missing or injuring it, he restrained his first impulse to grasp it in his hand. I will wait a minute, he thought. Perhaps it may creep down my nose, but he squinted a little, perhaps I shall be able to see it. For some moments hope alternated with fear. Theresep Benedict, with what he persuaded himself with some new African hexapod, perched upon his head, and agitated by doubts as to the direction in which it would move. Instead of traveling in the way he reckoned along his nose, might he not crawl behind his ears or down his neck, or worse than all, resume its flight in the air. Fortunes seemed inclined to favour him. After threading the entanglement of the naturalist's hair, the insect felt to be descending to his forehead. With a fortitude not unworthy of the Spartan, who suffered his breast to be gnawed by a fox, nor the Roman hero who plunged his hand into the red-hot coals, Benedict endured the tickling of the six small feet, and made not a motion that might frighten the creature into taking wing. After mating and repeating the circuits of his forehead, it passed just between his eyebrows. There was a moment of deep suspense, lest it should once more go upwards, but it soon began to move again. Neither to the right nor to the left did it turn, but kept straight on over the furrows made by the constant rubbing of the spectacles, right along the arc of the cartilage, till it reached the extreme tip of the nose. Like a couple of movable lenses, Benedict's two eyes steadily turned themselves inwards till they were directed to the proper point. Good, he whispered to himself. He was exulting at the discovery that what he had been waiting for so patiently was a respecimen of the tribe of the Kincindelidae, peculiar to the districts of Southern Africa. A tuberous Manticora hicks lane, the insect began to move again, and as it crawled down to the entrance of the nostrils, the tickling satiation became too much for endurance and Benedict's need. He made a sudden clutch, but of course he only caught his own nose. His vexation was very great, but he did not lose his composure. He knew that the Manticora rarely flies very high, and the more frequently the knot simply crawls. Accordingly, he groped about a long time on his hands and knees, and at last he found it basking in a ray of sunshine within a foot of him. His resolution was soon taken. He would not run the risk of crushing it by trying to catch it, but would make his observations on it as it crawled. And so with his nose closed to the ground, like a dog upon the scent, he followed it in all fours, admiring it and examining it as it moved. For garlics of the heat, he not only left the doorway of his hut, but continued creeping along till he reached the enclosing palisade. At the foot of the fence the Manticore, according to the habits of his kind, began to seek a subterranean retreat, and coming to the opening of a mole-track injured it at once. Benedict quite thought he had now lost sight of his prize all together, but his prize was very great when he found that the aperture was at least two feet wide and that it led into a gallery which would emit his whole body. His momentary feeling of astonishment, however, gave way to his eagerness to follow up the hexapod, and he continued borrowing like a ferret. Without knowing it he actually passed under the palisade and was now beyond. The mole-track, in fact, was a communication that had been made between the interior and exterior of the enclosure. Benedict had obtained his freedom, but so far from carrying at least for his liberty he continued totally absorbed in the pursuit upon which he had started. He watched with unflagging vigilance, as it was only when the hexapod expanded its wings as if for flight that he prepared to imprison it in the hollow of his hand. All at once, however, he was taken by surprise. A whiz and a whir, and the prize was gone. Disappointed rather than despairing, Benedict raised himself up and looked about him. Before long the old black speck was again flitting just above his head. There was every reason to hope that it would ultimately settle once more upon the ground. But on this side of the palisade there was a large forest a little way to the north, and if the metachore were to get into that massive foliage all hope of keeping it in view would be lost, and there would be an end to the proud expectation of storing it in the tin box to be preserved among the rest of the entomological wonders. After a while the insect descended to the earth. It did not rest at all, nor crawl as it had done previously, but made its advance by a series of rapid hops. This made the chase for the nearsighted naturalist a matter of great difficulty. He put his face as close to the ground as possible, and kept starting off and starving and starting off again, with his arms extended like a swimming frog. Continually making frantic crutches to find his continuously, this grass had been eluded. After running till he was out of breath, and scratching his hands against the brushwood and the foliage till they bled, he had the modification of feeling the insect dash past his ear with what might be a defiant buzz, and finding that it was out of sight for ever. Ungrateful hexapod, he cried in dismay, I intended to honor you with the best place in my collection. He knew not what to do, and could not reconcile himself to the loss. He approached himself for not having secured the Manticore at the first. He gazed at the forest, till he persuaded himself he could see the coveted insect in the distance, and seized with a frantic impulse, exclaimed, I will have you yet. He did not even yet realize the fact that he had gained his liberty, but he loosed of everything except his own burning disappointment, and that the risk of being attacked by natives or beset by wild beasts. He was just on the very point of dashing into the heart of the wood, when suddenly a giant form confronted him, as suddenly a giant had seized, hit by the net for the neck, and lifting him up, carried him off with apparently his little exertion, as he could himself have carried off his hexapod. For that day at least, Cousin Benedict had lost his chance of being the happiest of entomologists. CHAPTER XVI. OF DICK SANS THE BOY CAPTAIN. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. DICK SANS THE BOY CAPTAIN. DICK SANS THE BOY CAPTAIN. I'm finding that Cousin Benedict did not return to his quarters at the proper hour. Mrs. Wellden began to feel uneasy. She could not imagine what it become of him. His tin box with his contents were safe in his hut. It even if his chance of escape had been offered him, she knew that nothing would have induced him voluntarily to abandon his treasures. She enlisted the services of Halima and spent the remainder of the day in searching for him, until at last she felt herself driven to the conviction that he must have been confirmed by the orders of Alves himself, for what reason she could not divine, as Benedict had undoubtedly been included in the number of prisoners to be delivered to Mr. Wellden for the stipulated ransom. But the rage of the traitor, when he heard of the escape of the captive, was an ample proof that he had had no hand in his disappearance. A rigorous search was instituted in every direction, which resulted in the discovery of the mall-track. Here, beyond a question, was the passage through which the fly-catcher had found his way. Idiot! Fool! Rascal! Moradalves, full of rage at the prospect of losing a portion of the resentment-demption money. If ever I get ahold of him, he shall pay dearly for this freak. The opening was at once blocked. The woods were scoured all around for a considerable distance, but no trace of Benedict was to be found. Mrs. Wellden was bitterly grieved and much overcome, but she had no alternative except to resign herself, as best she could to the loss of her unfortunate relation. There was a tinge of bitterness in her anxiety, for she could not help being irritated at the recklessness with which he had withdrawn himself from the reach of her protection. Meanwhile, the weather for the time of year underwent a very unusual change. Although the rainy season was ordinarily reckoned to terminate about the end of April, the sky had suddenly become overcast in the middle of June, rain have recommenced falling, and the downpour had been so heavy and continuous, that all the ground was thoroughly sodden. To Mrs. Wellden personally, this incessant rainfall brought no other inconvenience beyond deriving her of her daily exercise. But to the natives in general is a very serious calamity. The riveting crops in the low-lying districts were completely flooded, and the inhabitants feel that they will be reduced to the greatest extremities. All agricultural pursuits had come to a standstill, and neither the Queen nor her ministers could devise any expedient to avert or mitigate the misfortune. They resolved at last to have recourse to the magicians, not those who were called in request to heal diseases or to procure good luck, but to the Umganga, sorcerers of a superior order, who were credited with the faculty of invoking or dispelling rain. But it was all to no purpose. It was in vain that the Umganga monotone their incantations, flourish their rattles, jingle their bills, and exhibit their amulets. It was equally without avail that they rolled up their balls of dirt and spat in the faces of all the courtiers. The pitiless rain continued to descend, and the malign influences that were rolling the clouds refused to be propitiated. The prospects seemed to become more and more hopeless when the report was brought to Moena that there was a most wonderful Umganga resident in the north of Angola. He had never been seen in this part of the country, but fame declared him to be a magician of the very highest order. Application without delay should be made to him, and he surely will be able to stay the rain. Early in the morning of the twenty-fifth, a great tinkling of bells announced the magician's arrival at Kazandu. The natives poured out to meet him on his way to the Chitoka, their minds being already predisposed in his favor by a moderation of the downpour, and by sundry indications of a coming change of wind. The ordinary practice of the professors of the magical art is to perambulate the villages in parties of three or four, accompanied by a considerable number of acolytes and assistants. In this case the Umganga came entirely alone. He was a pure negro of most imposing stature, more than six feet high and broad in proportion. All over his chest was a fantastic patent traced in pipe clay, the lower portion of his body being covered with a flowing skirt of woven grass, so long that it made a train. Around his neck hung a string of bird skulls. Upon his head he wore a leathern helmet ornamented with pearls and plumes, and about his waist was a copper girdle, to which was attached bells that tinkled like the harness of a Spanish mule. The only instrument indicating his art was a basket he carried made of a calabash containing shells, amulets, little wooden idols, and other fetishes, together with what was more important than all, a large number of those balls of dung, without which no African ceremony of divination could ever be complete. One peculiarity was soon discovered by the crowd that Umganga was dumb, and could utter only one low, guttural sound, which was kind and unintelligible. This was a circumstance, however, that seemed only to augment their faiths in his power. With a stately strut that brought all his tinkling paraphernalia into full play, the magician proceeded to make the circuit of the marketplace. The data is followed in a troop behind, endeavoring, like monkeys, to imitate his every movement. He turned into the main thoroughfare, and began to make his way direct to the royal residence, whence, as soon as the queen heard of his approach, she advanced to meet him. On seeing her, the Umganga bowed to the very dust, there rearing himself to his full height, he pointed aloft, and by the significance of his animated gestures indicated that, although the fleeting clouds were now going to the west, they would soon return eastwards with a rotary motion irresistibly strong. All at once, with the spryus of the beholders, he stooped and took the hand of the mighty sovereign of Kazande. The courtiers hurred forward to check the unprecedented breach of etiquette, but the foremost was driven back with so staggering a blow that the others deemed it prudent to retire. The queen herself appeared not to take the least offense of the familiarity. She bestowed a hideous decrimis, which was meant for a smile, upon her illustrious visitor, who, still keeping his hold upon her hand, started off walking at a rapid pace, the crowd following in the rear. He directed his steps towards the residence of Alves, and, finding the door closed, applied his strong shoulder to it with such effect that it fell bodily to the ground, and the passive sovereign stood within the limits of the enclosure. The trader was about to summon his slaves and soldiers to repel the unceremonious invasion of his premises, but, on behold, in the queen all stepped back with respectful reverence. Before Alves had time to ask the sovereign to what cause he was indebted for the honor of her visit, the magician had cleared a wide space around him, and had once again commenced his performances. Brannishing his arms wildly, he pointed to the clouds, though he were arresting them in their course. He inflated his huge cheeks and blew with all his strength, as if resolved to disperse the heavy masses, and then stretching himself to his full height, he appeared to clutch them in his giant grasp. Deeply impressed, the superstitious Moena was a half beside herself with excitement. She started loud cries, and involuntarily began herself to imitate every one of the Omganga's gestures. The entire crowd joined in, and very soon the low, guttural note of the sorcerer was lost, totally drowned in the turmoil of howls, shrieks, and discordant songs. To the chagrin, however, both of the queen and her subjects, there was not the slightest intimation that the clouds above were going to permit a risk by which the rays of the tropical sun could find a passage. On the contrary, the tokens of improvement in the weather, which had been observed in the early morning, had all disappeared. The atmosphere was darker than ever, and heavy storm drops began to pat her down. A reaction was beginning to take place in the enthusiasm of the crowd. After all, then, it would seem that this famous Omganga, from whom so much had been expected, had no power but the rest. Disappointment every moment grew more keen, and soon there was a positive display of irritation. The natives pressed around him with closed fists and threatening gestures. A frown gathered on Moena's face, and her lips opened with muttered words, clear enough to make the magician understand that his ears were in jeopardy. His position was evidently becoming critical. An unexpected incident suddenly altered the aspects of affairs. The Omganga was quite tall enough to see over the heads of the crowd, and all at once, poising in the midst of his incantations, he pointed to a distant corner of the enclosure. All eyes were instantly turned in that direction. Mrs. Walden and Jack had just come out of their hut, and catching sight of them, the Omganga stood with his left hand fighting towards them, and his right upstretched towards the heavens. Intuitively the multitude comprehended his meaning. Here was the explanation of the mystery. It was this white woman with her child that had been the cause of all their misery. It was owing to them that the clouds had poured down this desolating rain. With the yells of execration, the whole mob made a dash towards the unfortunate lady, who, pale with fright and bridged to the statue, stood clasping her boy to his side. The Omganga, however, anticipated them. Having pushed his way through the infuriated throng, he seized the child and held him high in the air, as though about to hurl into the ground, a peace offering to the offended gods. Mrs. Walden gave a piercing shriek and fell senseless to the earth, lifting her up and making a sign to the Queen that they all would now be right, the Omganga retreated carrying both mother and child through the crowd, who retreated before him and made an open passage. Alves now felt that it was time to interfere. Already one of his prisoners had eluded his vigilance, and was he now to see two more carried off before his eyes? Was he to lose the whole of the expected ransom? No. Rather would he seek Hizonde destroyed by a deluge, than resign his chance of securing so good a prize. Daring for us, he had tended to astute the magician's progress. The public opinion was against him. At a sign from the Queen, he was seized by the guards, and he was aware well enough of what would be the immediate consequence of resistance. He deemed it prudent to desist from his obstruction, but in his heart he bitterly cursed the stupid credulity of the natives, supposing that the blood of the white woman or the child could avail to put an end to the disasters they were suffering. Making the natives understand that they were not to follow him, the magician carried off his burden as easily as a lion would carry a couple of kids. The lady was still unconscious, and Jack was all but paralyzed with fright. Once free of the enclosure, the Omganga crossed the town, entered the forest, and after a march of three miles, during which he did not slacken his pace for a moment, reached the bank of a river which was flooring towards the north. Here in the cavity of a rock concealed by a dripping foliage, a canoe was moored, covered with a kind of thatched roof. On this the magician deposited his burden, and sending the light-craft into mid-stream with a vigorous kick, exclaimed in a dreary voice. Here they are, Captain! Both of them! Mrs. Water and Master Jack, both! We will be off now. I hope those idiots of Kazande will have plenty more rain yet. Off we go! CHAPTER XVII. Drifting down the stream. Off we go! It was the voice of Hercules, addressing Dick Sands, who, frightfully but debilitated by recent sufferings, was leaning against cousin Benedict for support. Dingo was lying at his feet. Mrs. Walden gradually recovered her consciousness. Looking around her in amazement, she caught sight of Dick. Dick! Is it you? She muttered feebly. The lab with some difficulty arose, and took her hand in his, while Jack overwhelmed in with kisses. And who would have thought it was you, Hercules, that carried us away? said the child. I did not know you a bit. You were so dreadfully ugly. I was a sort of a devil, you know, Master Jack. Hercules answered, and the devil is not particularly handsome. And he began rubbing his chest vigorously to get rid of the white pattern with which he had adorned it. Mrs. Walden held out her hand to him with a grateful smile. Yes, Mrs. Walden, he has saved you. And although he does not own it, he has saved me too, said Dick. Saved, repeated Hercules. You must not talk about safety, for you are not saved yet. And pointing to Benedict, he continued, That's where your thanks are due. Unless he had come and informed me all about you and where you were, I should have known nothing, and should have been powerless to aid you. It was now five days since he had fallen in with the entomologists, as he was chasing the Manticore, and unceremoniously had carried him off. As the canoe drifted rapidly along the stream, Hercules briefly related his adventures since his escape and the encampment on the Kwanzaa. He described how he had followed the Katanda, which was conveying Mrs. Walden, how in the course of his march he had found Dingo badly wounded, how he and the dog together had reached the neighborhood of Kazande, and how he had contrived to send a note to Dick, intending to inform him of Mrs. Walden's destination. Then he went on to say that his unexpected recontour with Cousin Benedict had watched very closely for a chance to get into the guarded depot, but until now had entirely failed. A celebrated Munganga had been passing on his way through the forest, and he had resolved upon impersonating him as a means of gaining the admittance he wanted. His strength made the undertaking sufficiently easy, and having stripped the magician of his paraphernalia and balanced securely to a tree, he pitted his own body with a pattern like that which he observed on his victim's chest, and having tired himself with the magical garments was quite equipped to impose upon the credulous natives. The result of this stratogen, they had all that day witnessed. He had hardly finished his account of himself when Mrs. Walden, smiling at his success, turned to Dick. And how, all this time, my dear boy, has it fared with you, she asked. Dick said, I remember very little to tell you. I recollect being fastened to a stake in the riverbed, and the water rising and rising till it was above my head. My last thoughts were about yourself and Jack, that everything became a blank, and I knew nothing more, till I found myself among the papyrus on the riverbank. With Hercules tending me like a nurse. You see, I am the right sort of Munganga, him to brose, Hercules. I am a doctor as well as a conjurer. But tell me, Hercules, how did you save him? Oh, it was not a difficult matter by any means, answered Hercules modestly. It was dark, you know, so that at the proper moment it was quite possible to wade in amongst the poor wretches at the bottom of the trench, and to wrench the stake from its socket. Anybody could have done it. Cousin Benedict could have done it. Dingo, too, might have done it. Perhaps after all, it was Dingo that did it. No, no, Hercules, that won't do, cried Jack. Besides, look, Dingo is shaking his head. He's telling you he didn't do it. Dingo must not tell tales, Master Jack, said Hercules, laughing. But nevertheless, although the brave fellow's modesty prompted him to conceal it, it was clear that he had accomplished a daring feat, of which few would have ventured to incur the risk. Enquirer was next made after Tom, Bat, Actian, and Austen. His countenance fell, and large tears gathered in his eyes as Hercules told how he had seen them pass through the forest and enslave Caravan. They were gone. He feared they were gone forever. Mrs. Walden tried to console him with the hope that they might still be spared to meet again some day. But he shook his head mournfully. She then communicated the dick the turns of the compact that had been entered into for her own release, and observed that under the circumstances it might really have been more prudent for her to remain in Kazande. Then I have made a mistake. I have been an idiot in bringing you away, said Hercules, ever ready to depreciate his own actions. No, said Dick. You have made no mistake. You could not have done better. Those rascals, ten chances to one, will only get Mr. Walden into some trap. We must get to Massamedi's before Nogoro arrives. Once there we shall find that the Portuguese authorities will limit their protection, and when Aldaíves arrives to claim his hundred thousand dollars, he shall receive a good thrashing for his pain, said Hercules, finishing Dick's sentence and chuckling heartily at the prospect. It was agreed, on all hands, that it was most important that Nogoro's arrival at Massamedi's should be forestalled. The plan which Dick had so long contemplated of reaching the coast by descending some river seemed now in a fair way of being accomplished, and from the northerly direction in which they were proceeding it was quite probable that they would ultimately reach the Zaire, and in that case not actually arrive at St. Paul de Luanda, but that would be a material, as they would be sure of finding help anywhere in the colonies of Loagini. On finding himself on the river bank, Dick's first thought had been to embark upon one of the floating islands that are continually to be seen, upon the surface of the African streams. But it happened that Hercules, during one of his rambles, found a native boat that had run a drift. It was just the discovery that suited their need. It was one of the long, narrow canoes, thirty feet in length by three or four in breadth, that with a large number of paddles can be driven with immense velocity, but by the aid of a single skull can be safely guided down the current of stream. Dick was somewhat afraid that to elude observation it would be necessary to proceed only by night, but as the loss of twelve hours out of the twenty-four would double the length of the voyage, he devised the plan of covering the canoe with a roof of long grass, supported by a horizontal pole from stand to stern, and this not only afforded a shelter from the sun, but so affectionately concealed the craft, rode a skull and all, that the very birds mistook it for one of the natural islets, and red-beaked gulls, black o'ringas, and gray and white kingfishes would frequently alight upon it in search of food. Though comparatively free from fatigue, the voyage must as necessarily belong, and by no means free from danger, and the daily supply of provisions was not easy to procure. If fishing failed, Dick had the one gun which Hercules had carried away with him from the an hill, and as he was by no means a bad shot, he hoped to find plenty of gain, either along the banks or by firing through a loophole in the thatch. The rate of the current, as far as he could tell, was about two miles an hour, enough to carry them about fifty miles a day. It was the speed, however, that made it necessary for them to keep a sharp lookout for any rocks or submerged trunks of trees, as well as to be on their guard against rapids and cataracts. Dick's strength and spirits all revived at the delight of having Mrs. Waldo and Jack restored to him, and he assumed his post at the bow of the canoe, directing Hercules how to use the skull at the stern. A litter of soft grass was made for Mrs. Waldo, who spent most of her time lying thoughtfully in the shade. Cousin Benedict was very taciturn. He did not recover the loss of the Manticore, and frowned ever and again at Hercules, as if he had not yet forgiven him for stopping him in the chase. Jack had been told that he must not be noisy, and mused himself by playing with dingo. The first two days passed without any special incident. The stock of provisions was quite enough for that time, so that there was no need to disembark, and Dick merely lay for a few hours in the night to take a little necessary repose. The stream nowhere exceeded one hundred and fifty feet in breadth. The floating islands moved at the same pace as the canoe, and except for some unforeseen circumstance, there could be no apprehension of escalation. The banks were destitute of human inhabitants, but were originally clothed with wild plants, in which the blossoms were the most gorgeous colours. The Asclepier, the Gladiolus, the Clomatis, Lillies, Allos, Ubellifere, Arborescent ferns, and fragrant shrubs, combining on either hand to make a border of surpassing beauty. Here and there the forest extended to the very shore, and cobalt trees acacias with their stiff foliage, bohineas clothed with lichen, fig trees with their masses of pendant roots, and other trees of splendid growth rose to the height of a hundred feet, forming a shade which the rays of the sun utterly failed to penetrate. Occasionally a wreath of creepers would form an arch from shore to shore. And on the 27th to Jack's great delight a group of monkeys was seen crossing one of these natural bridges, holding on most carefully by their tails, lest the aerial pathway should snap beneath their weight. These monkeys, belonging to a smaller kind of chimpanzee, which are known in Central Africa by the name of Socos, were hidden hideous creatures with low foreheads, bright yellow faces, and long upright ears. They heard in troops of about ten bark-like dogs and are much dreaded by the natives on account of their alleged propensity to carry off young children. There is no telling what predatory designs they might have formed against Master Jack if they had spied him out, but Dick's artifice officially screened him from their observation. Twenty miles further on, the canoe came to a sudden standstill. What's the matter now, Captain, cried Hercules from the stern. We have drifted onto a grass barrier, and there is no hope for it. We shall have to cut our way through, answered Dick. All right, I dare say we shall manage it, promptedly her replied Hercules, leaving his rudder to come in front. The obstruction was formed by the interlacing of masses of the tough, glossy grass, known by the name of Tika-Tika, which, when compressed, affords the surface so compact and resisting that trellas have been known, by means of it, to cross rivers dry-footed. Splendid specimens of lotus plants had taken root amongst the vegetation. As it was nearly dark, Hercules could lead the bow without much fear of detection, and so, affectionately, did he wield his hatchet that, in two hours after the stoppage, the barrier was hewn asunder, and the light-craft resumed the channel. It must be owned that it was with a sense of reluctance that Benedict felt the boat was again beginning to move forward. The whole voyage appeared to him to be perfectly uninteresting and unnecessary. Not a single insect had he observed since he left Kazande. And his most ardent wish was that he could return there and regain possession of his invaluable timbox, but an unlooked-for gratification was in store for him. Hercules, who had been his people long enough to have an eye for the kind of creature Benedict was ever trying to rescue, on coming back from his exertions on the grass barrier, bought a horrible-looking animal and submitted it to the sullen entomologists. Is this of any use to you? The amateur lifted it up carefully, and Hemmy almost poked it into his near-sighted eyes, out of her cry of delight. Bravo, Hercules! You are making amends for your past mischief. It is splendid. It is unique. Is it really very curious? said Mrs. Walden. Yes, indeed, answered the raptured Nettleus. It is really unique. It belongs to neither of the Ten Orders. It can be classed neither where they call the Optora, nor Optora, nor to the Hymen Optora. If it had eight legs, I should know how to classify it, as she plays it amongst the second section of the Arachnida. But it is a Hexapod, a genuine Hexapod, a spider with six legs, a grand discovery. He must be entered on the catalogue, as Hexapoda is Benedictus. Once again mounted on his hobby. The worthy enthusiasts continued to discourse with an unwanted vivacity to his indulgent, not over-attentive audience. Meanwhile the canoe was steadily threading its way over the dark waters, the silence of the night broken only by the rattle of the scales of some crocodiles, or by the snorting of hippopotamuses in the neighborhood. Once the travelers were startled by a loud noise, such as might proceed from some ponderous machinery in motion. It was caused by a troop of a hundred or more elephants that, after feasting through the day on the roots of the forest, had come to quench their thirst at the riverside. But no danger was to be apprehended. Lighted by the pale moon that rose over the tall trees, the canoe throughout the night, pursued in safety its solitary voyage. Part II. This is the LibriVox Recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Alexi Talander, Davis, California. The canoe drifted on for a week. The forest that for many miles had skirted the river, ultimately giving place to extensive juggles that stretched far away to the horizon, destitute fortunately for the travelers of human inhabitants, the district abounded in a large variety of animal life. Zebras, Elans, commas, sported on the bank, disappearing at nightfall before howling leopards and roaring lions. It was Dick's general custom as he lay for a while in the afternoon to go ashore and search for food, and as the manioc maize and sorghum that were to be found for of a wild growth and consequently not fit for consumption, he was obliged to run the risk of using his gun. On the 4th of July he succeeded by a single shot in killing Poku, a kind of antelope about five feet long, with annulated horns, a tawny skin dampened with bright spots, and a white belly. The venison proved excellent, and was roasted over a fire procured by the primitive method practiced, it had said, even by gorillas, of rubbing two sticks together. In spite of these halts, and the time taken for the night's rest, the distance accomplished by the Eighth could not be estimated at less than a hundred miles. The river augmented by only a few insignificant tributaries, and not materially increased in volume. Its direction, however, had slightly changed more to the northwest. It afforded a very fair supply of fish, which were caught by lions made of the long stems of creepers furnished with thorns instead of fish hooks, a consensual portion being the delicate sanjkhas, which when dried may be transported to any climate. Besides these were the black usakas, the white-headed mondes, and the occasionally the little dagalas resembling Thames whitebait. Next day Dick met with an adventure that put all his courage and composure to the test. He had noticed the horns of a comma projecting above the bushwood, and went ashore alone with the intention of securing it. He succeeded in getting taller but close to it and fired, but he was terribly startled when a formidable creature bounded along some thirty pieces ahead, and took possession of the prey he had just wounded. It was a majestic lion, at least five feet in height, of the kind called Kadamu, in distinction to the mainness known as the Nyasi lion. Before Dick had time to reload, the huge brute had caught sight of him, and without relaxing his hold upon the writhing antelope beneath its claws, glad upon him fiercely. Dick's presence of mind did not forsake him. Flight he knew was not to be thought of. His only chance he felt intuitively would be by keeping perfectly still, and aware that the beast would be unlikely to give up a struggling prey for another that was motionless. He stood face to face with his foe, not venturing to move an eyelid, and a few minutes the lion's patience seemed to be exhausted, and with a grand stateliness it picked up the comma as easily as a dog would lift a hair, turned round, and lashing the bushes with its tail disappeared in the jungle. It took Dick some little time to recover himself sufficiently to return to the canoe. On arriving he said nothing of the peril to which he had been exposed, but hardly congratulated himself that he had means of transport without making their way through jungles and forests. As they advanced they repeatedly came across evidences that the country had not been always, as now it was, utterly devoid of population. More than once they observed traces which betokened the former existence of villages, either some ruined palisades, or the debris of some thatched huts, or some solitary sacred tree within an enclosure would indicate that the death of a chief had, according to custom, made a native tribe migrate to new quarters. If natives were still dwelling in the district, as was just probable, they must have been living underground, only emerging at night like beasts of prey from which they were only a grade removed. Dick sands at every reason to feel convinced that cannibalism had been practiced in the neighborhood. Three times as he was wandering in the forest, he had come upon piles of ashes and half-chart human bones, the remnants, no doubt, of a ghastly meal. And although he mentioned nothing of what he had seen to Mrs. Walden, he made up his mind to go ashore as seldom as possible, and as often as he found it absolutely necessary to go, he gave Hercules strict directions to push off into midstream at the very first intimation of danger. A new cause of anxiety arose on the following evening and made it necessary for them to take the most guarded measures of precaution. The riverbed had widened out into a kind of lagoon. On the right side of this, built upon piles in the water, there was only a collection of about thirty huts, but the fire was gleaming under the thatch, and made it evident that they were all inhabited. Unfortunately, the only channel of the stream flowed close under the huts. The river elsewhere being so obstructed with rocks that navigation of any kind was impossible. Nothing was more probable than that the natives would have set their nets all all across the piles. And if so, the canoe would be sure to be obstructed, and an alarm must inevitably be raised. Every caution seemed to be unavailing, because the canoe must follow the stream. However, in the lowest of whispers, Dick ordered Hercules to keep clear as much as he could of the worm-eaten timber. The night was very dark, and was equally at an advantage and at a disadvantage, as while it permitted those on board to steer as they wanted, it did not prevent them from being seen. The situation became more and more critical. About a hundred feet ahead, the channel was very contracted. Two natives, gesticulating vitally, were seen squatting on the pile-work. A few moments more, and their voices could be heard. It was obvious that they had seen the floating mass. Apprehending that it was going to destroy their nets, they yelled aloud and shouted for assistance. Instantly, five or six Nivors scrambled down the piles and perched themselves upon the cross-beams. On board the canoe, the profounded silence was maintained. Dick only signaled his directions to Hercules without uttering a word, while Jack performed his part by holding Dingo's mouth tightly closed to stop the low growlings which the faithful watchdog seemed resolved to make. But fortunately every sound was overpowered by the rushing stream and the climber of the Negroes as they hurriedly drew in their nets. If they should raise them in time, all might be well, but if, on the other hand, the canoe should get entangled, the consequences could hardly fail to be disastrous. The current in its narrow channel was so strong that Dick was proudless either to modify its course or to slacken it. Half a minute more, and the canoe was right under the woodwork, but the efforts of the natives had already elevated the nets so that the anticipated danger was happily escaped. But a chance that in making its way through the obstacle, a large piece of the grass thatch got detached. One of the Negroes raised a sudden shout of alarm, and it seemed only too providently that he had caught a sight of the travelers below and was informing his companions. This apprehension, too, was only momentary. The current had changed almost to a rapid and carried the canoe along with such velocity that the Luchastrine village was quickly out of sight. Steered to the left, cried Dick, finding that the riverbed had again become clear. A stiff pull of the tiller made the craft fly in that direction. Dick went to the stern and scanned the moonlit waters. All was perfectly still. No canoe was in pursuit. Perhaps the natives had not wanted to use, but certain it was that when daylight dawned, no vestige of an inhabitant was to be seen. Nevertheless, Dick thought it prudent for a while to steer close under the shelter of the left-hand shore. By the end of the next four days, the aspect of the country had undergone a remarkable change. The jungle, having given place to a desert, is dreary as the Kalahari itself. The river appeared interminable, and it became a matter of serious consideration how to get sufficiency of food. Fish was scarce, or at least hard to catch, and the arid soil provided no means of sustenance for antelopes, so that nothing was to be gained from the chase. Carnivorous animals also had quite disappeared, and the silence of the night was broken, not by the roar of wild beasts, but by the croaking of frogs in a discordant chorus, which Cameron had to compare to the clanking of hammers and the grating of files in a shipbuilder's yard. Far away, both to the east and west, the outlines of hills could be fairly discerned, but the shores on either hand were perfectly flat and devoid of trees. Euphorbias, it is true, grew in considerable numbers, but as they were only of the aura-producing species, and not the kind for which cassava or manioc is procured, they were useless in an elementary point of view. Dick was becoming more and more perplexed, when Hercules happened to mention that the natives often eat young fern fronds and a pith of the papyrus, and that before now he had himself been reduced to the necessity of persisting on nothing better. We must try them, said Dick. Both ferns and papyrus abounded on the banks, and a meal was prepared. The sweet, soft pith of the papyrus being found very palatable. Jack in particular appeared to enjoy it extremely, but it was not in any way a satisfying diet. Thanks to cousin Benedict, a fresh variety of the matter of food was found on the following day. Since the discovery of the hexapodis benedictus, he had recovered his spirits, and having fastened his pride safely inside his hat, he wanted about as often as he had a chance in his favorite pursuit of insect hunting. As he was rummaging in the long grass, he put up a bird which flew but a very short distance. Benedict recognized it by its peculiar note, and seeing Dick take his gun to aim it, it explained, Don't fire, don't fire. That bird will be worth nothing for food among five of us. It will be dear enough for Jack, said Dick, who, finding that bird, did not seem in a hurry to make his escape, delayed his shot for a moment, without intending to be diverted for his purpose of securing it. You mustn't fire, insisted Dick. It is an indicator. It will show you where there are lots of honey. Aware that a few pounds of honey would really be more of more value than a little bird, Dick lowered his gun, and, in company with the entomologists, set off to follow the indicator, which seemed, by ultimately flying and stopping, to be inviting them to come on, and they had but a little way to go before they observed several swarms of bees buzzing around some old stems hidden amongst the euphorias. Notwithstanding, Benedict's remonsters is against depriving the beads of the fruits of their industry. Dick instantly set to work, and, without remorse, suffocated them by burning dry grass underneath. Having secured a good amount of honey, he left the comb to the indicator as its share of the booty, and went back with his companion to the canoe. The honey was acceptable, but it did not do much to alleviate the cravings of hunger. Next day it happened that they just stopped for their accustomed rest, when they observed that an enormous swarm of grasshoppers had settled at the mouth of a creek close by. Two or three jeeps, they covered the soil, myriads and myriads of them adhering to every shrub. The natives eat those grasshoppers, said Benedict, and liked them too. Their mark produced an instant effect. All hands were busy eating, collecting them, and a large supply was quickly gathered. The canoe might have been filled ten times over. Grilled over a slow fire, they were found to be very palatable eating, and in spite of its qualms of conscience, Benedict himself made a hearty meal. But although the gnawings of absolute hunger were thus assuaged, all the travelers began to long, most anxiously for the voyage to come to an end. The mode of transit indeed might be less exhausting to the bodily powers than a landmark would have been. But the excessive heat by day, the damp mist at night, and the incessant attacks of mosquitoes, all combined to render the passage extremely trying. There was no telling how long it would last, and Dick was equally uncertain whether it might end in a few days or be protracted for a month. The direction with which the stream was taking was itself a subject of propensity. A fresh surprise was now in store. As Jack a few mornings afterwards was standing at the bell, peering through an aperture in the grass canopy above him, he suddenly turned round and cried, The sea! The sea! Dick started forwards and looked eagerly in the same direction. A large expanse of water was visible in the horizon, but after having surveyed it for a moment or two, he said, No, Jack, it is not the sea. It is a great river. It is running west. I suppose this river runs into it. Perhaps it is the Zaire. Let us hope it is, said Mrs. Walden, earnestly. Most cordially did Dick Sands re-echo her words, being well aware that at the mouth of the river were Portuguese villages, where a refuge might surely be found. For several succeeding days the canoe is still concealed by its covering, floated on the silvery surface of this newfound stream. On either side the banks became less arid, and it seemed everything to encourage the few survivors of the pilgrim to believe that they would soon see the last of the perils and tools of their journey. They were too sanguine. Towards three o'clock in the morning of the 18th, Dick, who was at his usual post at the bow, fancied he heard a dull rumbling towards the west. Mrs. Walden, Jack, and Benedict were all asleep. Calling Hercules to him, he asked him whether he could not hear a strange noise. The night was perfectly calm, and not a breath of air was stirring. The negro listened attentively, and suddenly his eyes sparkly with delight exclaimed, Yes, Captain, I hear the sea. Dick shook his head and answered, It is not the sea, Hercules. Not the sea, cried the negro, then what can it be? We must wait till daybreak, replied Dick. In meanwhile we shall have to keep a sharp lookout. Hercules returned to his place, but only to continue listening with ever increasing curiosity. The rumbling perceptively increased till it became a continued roar, with scarcely any intervening twilight night past and today. Just in front, scarcely more than half a mile ahead, a great mist was hanging over the river. It was not an ordinary fog, and when the sun rose, the light of the dawn caused a brilliant rainbow to arch itself from shore to shore, and a voice so loud that it awoke Mrs. Walden, Dick gave his orders to Hercules to tear for the bank. Quick, quick, Hercules! A shore, a shore! There are cataracts close ahead. And so it was, within little more than a quarter of a mile, the bed of the river sank abruptly some hundred feet, and the foaming waters rushed down in a magnificent fall of irresistible velocity. A few minutes more, and the canoe must have been swallowed in the deep abyss. End of Part II. Part II. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Alexi Tallander, Davis, California. Dick Sands, The Boy Captain, by Jules Verne, translated by Ellen E. Führer. Part II. The canoe inclined to the west readily enough. The fall in the riverbed was so sudden that the current remained quite unaffected by the cataract at a distance of 300 yards. On the bank were woods so dense that sunlight could not penetrate the shade. Dick was conscious of a sad misgiving when he looked at the character of the territory through which they must necessarily pass. It had not seemed practicable, by any means, to convey the canoe below the falls. As they near the shore, Dingo became intensely agitated. At first, Dick suspected that a wild beast or a native might be lurking in the papyrus. This soon became obvious that the dog was excited by grief rather than by rage. Dingo is crying, said Jack, poor Dingo, and the child laid his arms over the creature's neck. Dog, however, was too impatient to be caressed. Bounding away, he sprang into the water, swam across the 20 feet that intervened between the shore and disappeared in the grass. In a few moments, the boat had glided onto a carpet of confervas and other aquatic plants, starting a few kingfishes and some snow-white herons. Hercules moored it to the stump of a tree and the travelers went ashore. There was no pathway through the forest. Only the trampled moss showed that the place had been recently visited either by animals or men. Dick took his gun and Hercules his hatchet, and they set out to search for Dingo. They had not far to go before they saw him with his nose on the ground, manifestly following a scent. The animal raised his head for a moment, as if beckoning them to follow, and kept on till he reached an old sycamore stump. Having called out to the rest of the party to join them, Dick made his way farther into the wood till he got up to Dingo, who was whining piteously at the entrance of a dilapidated hut. The rest were not long and following, and they all entered the hut together. The floor was stirring with bones, whitened by exposure. Someone has died here, some Mrs. Bowden. Perhaps at Dick, as if struck by a sudden thought, it was Dingo's old master. Look at him, he is pointing with his paw. The portion of the sycamore trunk, which formed the farther side of the hut, had been stripped of its bark, and upon the smooth wood were two great letters in ginger red, almost a face by time, but yet plain enough to be distinguished. S. V., cried Dick, as he looked where the dog's paw rested. The same initials that Dingo had as upon its collar. There could be no mistake. S. V. A small proper box, green with vertigress, caught his eye, and he picked it up. It was open, but contained a scrap of discolored paper. The writing upon this consisted of a few sentences, of which only detached words could be made out, but they revealed the sad truth only two plainly. Robbed by Nagoro, murdered. Dingo, help. Nagoro, guide. 120 miles from coast. December 3, 1870 run. Night right no more. S. Vernon. Here was the clue to a melancholy story. Samuel Vernon, under the guidance of Nagoro, and taken with him his dog Dingo, had set out on an exploration of a district of Central Africa. He had taken a considerable quantity of money to procure the necessary supplies on the way, and this had excited the cupidity of his guide, who seized the opportunity, whilst they were in camping on the banks of the Congo, to assassinate his employer and get possession of his property. Nagoro, however, had not escaped. He had fallen into the hands of the Portuguese, by whom he was recognized as an agent of the slave dealer Alves, and condemned to spend the rest of his days in prison. He contrived after a while to make his escape, and, as has already been mentioned, found his way to New Zealand, whence he had returned my security and engagement on board the pilgrim. Between the time when he was attacked by Nagoro and the moment of his death, Vernon had managed to write the few brief lines of which the fragments still survived, and to deposit the document in the box from which the money had been stolen. And by a last effort had traced out his initials in blood upon the naked wood, which formed the wall of the hut. For many days Dingo watched beside his master, and throughout that time his eyes were resting so perpetually upon the true crimson leathers in front of him that mere instincts seemed to fasten them indelibly on his memory. Quitting his watch one day, perhaps to pacify his hunger, the dog wandered to the coast, where he was picked up by the captain of the wall-deck, after which he transferred to the very ship on which his owner's murderer had been engaged as cook. All throughout this time poor Vernon's bones had been bleaching in the African forest, and the first resolution of Dick and Mrs. Voldom was to give the residue of his remains some semblance of a decent burial. They were just proceeding to their tats when Dingo gave a furious growl and dashed out of the hut. Another moment and a terrible shriek made it evident that he was in conflict with some dread antagonist. Her colleagues was quickly in pursuit, and the whole party followed in time to witness the giant hurl himself upon a man with whom already Dingo was in mortal combat. The dog was gripping the man by the throat, and the man was lifting his cutlass high above the head of the dog. That man was Nagoro, the rascal, on getting his letter at Kazande, instead of embarking at once for America, had left his native escort for a while and returned to the scene of his crime to secure the treasure, which he had left buried at a little distance in a spot that he had marked. At this very moment he was in the act of digging up the gold he had concealed. Some glistening coins scattered here and there which read his purpose, but in the midst of his labor as he had been started by the dashing forward of a dog. Another instant and the dog had transfect itself upon his throat, whilst he and an agony of desperation had drawn his cutlass and plunged it deep into the creature's side. Hercules came up with the very climax of the death struggle. You villain! You accursed villain! I have you now, he cried, about to seize hold of his victim. But vengeance was already accomplished. Nagoro gave no sign of life. Death had overtaken him on the very scene of his guilt. Dingo too had received a mortal wound. He dragged himself back to the hut, lay down beside the remains of his master and expired. The sad task of burying Vernon's bones and laying his faithful dog beside them, having been accomplished, the whole party was obliged to turn their thoughts to their own safety. Although Nagoro was dead, it is very likely that the natives that he had taken with him were at no great distance and would come to search for him. A hurried conference was held as to what steps had best to be taken. The few words traceable on the paper made them aware that they were on the banks of the Congo and that they were still 120 miles from the coast. The fall just ahead was probably the cataract of Memo. But whatever it was, no doubt it eventually barred their further progress by water. They seemed no alternative, but that they should make their way by one bank or the other a mile or two below the waterfall and their constructed raft on which once again they could drift down the stream. The question that pressed for immediate settlement was which bank it should be. Here in the left bank would be the greater risk of encountering the Negro escort in Nagoro, whilst at the other far the shore they could not tell what obstacles they might present. Altogether Mrs. Bolden advocated trying the other side, but they consisted upon crossing first by himself to ascertain whether an advance by that route was really practical. The river is only about a hundred yards wide here. I can soon get across. I shall leave Hercules to look after you all. Mrs. Bolden demurred for a while, but Dick seemed resolute and as he promised to take his gun and not to attempt to land if he saw the least symptom of danger she last consented but with so much reluctance that even after he had ended the canoe she said, I think Dick it would be really better for us all to go together. No Mrs. Bolden, indeed no. I am sure it is best for me to go alone. I shall be back in an hour. If it must be so, it must, said the lady. Keep a sharp look out, Hercules, cried the youth cheerily as he pushed off from the land. The strength of the current was by no means violent, but quite enough to make the direction of Dick's course somewhat oblique. The roar of the cataract reverberated in his ears and the spray, wafted by the westerly wind, brushed lightly past his face and he shouted as he felt how near they must have been to destruction if he had relaxed his watch throughout the night. It took him hardly a quarter of an hour to reach the officer bank and he was just preparing to land when there arose a tremendous shout from above a dozen natives who, rushing forward, began to tear away the canopy of grass with which the canoe was covered. Dick's horror was great. It would have been greater still if he had known that they were cannibals. They were the natives settled at the La Cousteen village higher up the river. When the piece of thatch had been knocked off and passing the piles, the glimpse had been caught of the passengers below and aware that the cataract ahead must ultimately bring them to a stand still. The eagle barbarians have followed them persistently day by day for the last eight days. Now they thought they had secured their prize, but loud was their yell of disappointment when, on stripping off the thatch, they found only one person and that a mere boy standing beneath it. Dick stood as calmly as he could at the fowl and pointed his gun towards the savages who was sufficiently acquainted with the nature of firearms to make them afraid to attack. Mrs. Bottom with the others and their eagerness to watch Dick's movements had remained standing upon the shore of the river and at this instant were caught sight by one of the natives who pointed them out to his companions. A sudden impulse seized the hold of them and they sprang into the canoe. They seemed to be a practiced hand amongst them, which caught hold of the rudder oar and the little craft was quickly on its way back. Although he gave up all as now well and I lost, Dick neither moved nor spoke. He had one lingering hope yet left. Was it not possible, even now, that by sacrificing his own life he could save the lives of those who were entrusted to him? When the canoe come near enough to the shore for his voice to be heard, he shouted with all his might, Fly, Mrs. Weldon! Fly, all of you! Fly for your lives! But neither Mrs. Weldon nor Hercules stirred. They seemed rooted to the ground. Fly, fly, fly! he continued shouting. But though he knew they must hear him, yet he saw them make no effort to escape. He understood their meaning and of what avail was flight when the savages will be upon their track in a few minutes after. A sudden thought crossed his mind. He raised his gun and fired at the man who was steering. The bullets shattered the rudder skull into fragments. The cannibals uttered a yell of terror, deprived of guidance the canoe was at the mercy of the current, and boarded along with increasing speed was soon within a hundred feet of the cataract. The anxious watchers on the bank instantly discerned Dick's purpose and understood that in order to save them he had foreign the resolution that were precipitating himself with the savages into the seething waters. Nothing could avail to arrest the swift descent. Mrs. Valden in an agony of despair waved her hands at a last sad farewell. Jack and Benedict seemed paralyzed whilst Hercules involuntarily extended his straight strong arm that was powerless to aid. Suddenly the natives impaled by a last frantic effort to reach the shore plunged into the water but then movement capsized the boat. Face to face with death Dick lost nothing of his indomitable presence of mind. Might not that light canoe floating bottom upwards be made the means for yet another grasp at life. The danger that threatened him was twofold. There was the risk of suffocation as well as the peril being drowned. Could not the inverted canoe be used for a kind of float at once to keep his head above water and to serve as a scream from the rushing air. He had some famed recollection of how it had been proved possible under some such conditions to descend in safety the falls of Niagara. Quick as lightning he seized hold of the crossbench of the canoe and with his head out of the water beneath the upturned keel he was dashed down the furious and well-nigh perpendicular fall. The craft sank deep into the abyss but rose quickly again to the surface. He was Dick's chance. He was a good swimmer and his life depended now upon his strength of arm. It was a hard struggle but he succeeded. In a quarter of an hour he had landed on the left hand bank where he was greeted with the joyful congratulations of his friends who had hurried to the foot of the fall to assure themselves of his fate. The cannibals had all disappeared in the surging waters. Unprotected in their fall they had doubtless seas to breathe before reaching the lowest depths of the cataract where their lifeless bodies would soon be dashed to pieces against the sharp rocks that were scattered along the lower course of the stream. End of Part II CHAPTER XXII OF Dick Sands the Boy Captain This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information ought to volunteer. Please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Alex C. Tallanner Davis, California. Dick Sands the Boy Captain by Jules Verne translated by Ellen E. Führer Part II CHAPTER XX A Happy Reunion Two days after Dick's marvelous deliverance the party had the good fortune to fall in with the caravan of honest Portuguese ivory traders on their way to Emboma at the mouth of the Congo. They rendered the fugitives every assistance and thus enabled them to reach the coast without further discomfort. This meeting with the caravan was the most fortunate occurrence as at any project of launching a raft upon the Zaire would have been quite impracticable. The river between the Intemo and Yalala Falls being a continuous series of cataracts. Stanley counted as many as 62 and it was hereabouts that that brave traveler sustained the last of 31 conflicts with the natives escaping almost by a miracle from the Imbello cataract. Before the middle of August the party arrived at Emboma where they were hospitable received by M. Malta Viega and Mr. Harrison. Estima was just on the point of starting for the Isthmus of Panama. Missed they took their passage and in due time slipfoot once more upon American soil. Fourth where the message was dispatched to Mr. Walden apprising him at the return of the wife and child over whose loss he had mourned so long. On the 25th the railroad deposited the travelers at San Francisco. The only thing to mar the happiness being the recollection that Tom and his partners were not with them to share their joy. Mr. Walden had every reason to congratulate himself that Nagoro had failed to reach him. No doubt he would have been ready to sacrifice the bulk of his fortune and without a moment's hesitation would have set out for the coast of Africa. But who could question that he would there have been exposed to the vilest treachery. He felt that to Dick Sands and to Hercules he owed a debt of gratitude that it would be impossible to repay. Dick assumed more than ever the place of an adopted son whilst the brave Negro was regarded as a true and faithful friend. Cousin Benedict and must be owned failed to share for long the general joy. After giving Mr. Walden a hasty shake at the hand he hurried off to his private room and resumed his studies almost as if they had never been interrupted. He set himself vigorously to work with the designer producing an elaborate treatise upon the Hexapodis benedictus, either too unknown to entomological research. Here in his private chamber spectacles and magnifying glass were ready for his use and he was now able for the first time with the aid of proper appliances to examine the new production of Central Africa. A shriek of horror and disappointment escaped his lips. The Hexapodis benedictus was not a hexapod at all. It was a common spider. Hercules and catching it had unfortunately broken off its two front legs and benedict, almost blind as he was, had failed to detect the accident. His chagrin was most pitiful. The wonderful discovery that was to have exalted his name high in the annals of science belonged simply to the common order of the Ragnidae. The blow to his aspirations was very heavy. It brought on a fit of illness for which he took some time to recover. For the next three years Dick was entrusted with the education of Little Jack during the intervals he could spare from the prosecution of his own studies into which he threw himself with an energy quickened by a kind of remorse. If only I had known what it seemed one ought to know when I was left to myself on board the pilgrim, he would continually say, What misery and suffering we might have been spared. So diligently did he apply himself to the technical branches of his profession that at the age of 18 he received a special certificate of honor and was at once raised to the rank of a captain in Mr. Walden's firm. Thus, by his industry and good conduct, that the forefound link of Sandy Hook rise to a post of distinction. In spite of his youth, he came out in universal respect. His native modesty and straightforwardness never fail him, and for his own part he seemed to be unconscious of those fine traits in his character which had impelled him to deeds that made him little short of a hero. His leisure moments, however, were often troubled by one source of sadness. He could never forget the Four Negroes for whose misfortune he held himself by his own inexperience to be in a way responsible. Mrs. Walden thoroughly shared his regret and would have made many sacrifices to discover what had become of them. This anxiety was at length relieved. Owing to the large correspondence of Mr. Walden in almost every quarter of the world, it was discovered that the whole of them had been sold in one lot and that they were now in Madagascar. Without listening for a moment to Dick's proposal to apply all his savings to affect their liberation, Mr. Walden sent his own agents to negotiate for their freedom. And on the 15th of November, 1877, Tom Batte Actaeon in Austin awaited their welcome at the merchant's door. It is needless to say how warm were the greetings they received. Out of all the survivors of the program that had been cast upon the fatal cost of Africa, old Nana Lone was wanting to complete the number. Considering what they had all undergone and the perils to which they had been exposed, it seemed little short of a miracle that she and Pordingo should be the only victims. High was the festivity that night in the house of the California merchant, and the toast proposed of Mrs. Walden's request that was received with the loudest acclamation was Dick Sands, the boy captain. to lander.com End of Dick Sands, The Boy Captain by Jules Verne Translated by Ellen E. Farrar