 In Search of the Castaways by Jules Verne Chapter 19 The Red Wolves Night came, but the orb of night was invisible to the inhabitants of the earth, for she was just in her first quarter. The dim light of the stars was all that illumined the plain. The waters of the Guamini ran silently, like a sheet of oil over a surface of marble. Birds, quadrupeds, and reptiles were resting motionless after the fatigues of the day, and the silence of the desert brooded over the far-spreading pompous. Glenarvon, Robert, and Thalcave had followed the common example, and lay in profound slumber on their soft couch of Lucerne. The worn-out horses had stretched themselves full length on the ground, except Thalca, who slept standing, true to his high blood, proud in repose as in action, and ready to start at his master's call. Absolute silence reigned within the enclosure, over which the dying embers of the fire shed a fitful light. However, the Indians sleep did not last long. For about ten o'clock he woke, sat up, and turned his ear toward the plain, listening intently with half-closed eyes. An uneasy look began to depict itself on his usually impassive face. Had he caught scent of some party of Indian marauders, or of jaguars, water-tigers, and other terrible animals that haunt the neighborhood of rivers? Apparently it was the latter, for he threw a rapid glance on the combustible materials heaped up in the enclosure, and the expression of anxiety on his countenance seemed to deepen. This was not surprising, as the whole pile of valfafares would soon burn out, and could only ward off the attacks of wild beasts for a brief interval. There was nothing to be done in the circumstances but wait, and wait he did in a half-recumbent posture, his head leaning on his hands, and his elbows on his knees, like a man roused suddenly from his night's sleep. A whole hour passed, and any one except Palcave would have lain down again on his couch, reassured by the silence round him. But where a stranger would have suspected nothing, the sharpened senses of the Indian detected the approach of danger. As he was thus watching and listening, Thaoka gave a low ney, and stretched his nostrils toward the entrance of the Ramada. This startled the Patagonian, and made him rise to his feet at once. Thaoka sent an enemy, he said to himself, going toward the opening to make careful survey of the plains. Silence still prevailed, but not tranquility, for Thaokave caught a glimpse of shadows moving noiselessly over the tufts of Kura-Mamel. Here and there, luminous spots appeared, dying out and rekindling constantly, in all directions, like fantastic lights dancing over the surface of an immense lagoon. An inexperienced eye might have mistaken them for fireflies, which shine at night in many parts of the pompous. But Thaokave was not deceived, he knew the enemies he had to deal with, and lost no time in loading his carbine and taking up his post in front of the fence. He did not wait for long for a strange cry, a confused sound of barking and howling broke over the pompous, followed next instant by the report of the carbine, which made the uproar a hundred times worse. Glenarvin and Robert woke in alarm, and started to their feet instantly. What is it, exclaimed Robert? Is it the Indians, asked Glenarvin? No, replied Thaokave, the Aguaras. Aguaras said Robert, looking inquiringly at Glenarvin. Yes, replied Glenarvin, the red wolves of the pompous. They seized their weapons at once, and stationed themselves beside the Patagonian, who pointed toward the plain from whence the yelling resounded. Robert drew back involuntarily. You are not afraid of wolves, my boy? said Glenarvin. No, my lord, said the lad in a firm tone, and moreover, beside you I am afraid of nothing. So much the better, these Aguaras are not very formidable either, and if it were not for their number I should not give them a thought. Never mind, we are all well armed to let them come. We will certainly give them a warm reception, rejoined Glenarvin. His lordship only spoke thus to reassure the child, for a secret terror filled him at the sight of this legion of bloodthirsty animals let loose on them at midnight. There might possibly be some hundreds, and what could three men do, even arm to the teeth against such a multitude? As soon as Thaokave said the word Aguara, Glenarvin knew that he meant the red wolf, for this is the name given to it by the Pampas Indians. This voracious animal, called by naturalist the Canis Jubbatus, is in shape like a large dog and has the head of a fox. Its fur is a reddish cinnamon color and there is a black mane all down the back. It is a strong nimble animal, generally inhabiting marshy places, and pursuing aquatic animals by swimming, prowling about by night, and sleeping during the day. Its attacks are particularly dreaded at the Estancias, or sheep stations, as it often commits considerable ravages, carrying off the finest of the flock. Singly, the Aguara is not much to be feared, but they generally go in immense packs, and one had better have to deal with a jaguar or cougar than with them. Both from the noise of the howling and the multitude of shadows leaping about, Glenarvin had a pretty good idea of the number of the wolves, and he knew that they had scented a good meal of human flesh or horse flesh, and none of them would go back to their dens without a share. It was certainly a very alarming situation to be in. The assailants were gradually drying closer. The horses displayed signs of the liveliest terror, with the exception of Thauca, who stamped his foot and tried to break loose and get out. His master could only calm him by keeping up a low, continuous whistle. Glenarvin and Robert had posted themselves so as to defend the opening of the Ramada. They were just going to fire into the nearest ranks of the wolves when Thalcave lowered their weapons. What does Thalcave mean, asked Robert? He forbids our firing, and why? Perhaps he thinks it is not the right time. But this was not the Indians reason, and so Glenarvin saw when he lifted the powder flask, showed him it was nearly empty. What's wrong, asked Robert? We must husband our ammunition, was the reply. Today's shooting has cost us dear, and we are short of powder and shot. We can't fire more than twenty times. The boy made no reply, and Glenarvin asked him if he was frightened. No, my lord, he said. That's right, returned Glenarvin. A fresh report resounded that instant. Thalcave had made short work of one assailant more audacious than the rest, and the infuriated pack had retreated to within a hundred steps of the enclosure. On a sign from the Indian, Glenarvin took his place, while Thalcave went back into the enclosure, and gathered up all the dried grass and alfafores. And indeed, all the combustibles he could rake together, and made a pile of them at the entrance. Into this he flung one of the still glowing embers, and soon the bright flame shot up into the dark night. Glenarvin could now get a good glimpse of his antagonists, and saw that it was impossible to exaggerate their numbers or their fury. The barrier of fire just raised by Thalcave had redoubled their anger, though it had cut off their approach. Several of them, however, urged on by the hindmost ranks, pushed forward into the very flames and burned their paws for their pains. From time to time another shot had to be fired, notwithstanding the fire, to keep off the howling pack, and in the course of an hour fifteen dead animals lay stretched on the prairie. The situation of the besieged was, relatively speaking, less dangerous now. As long as the powder lasted and the barrier of fire burned on, there was no fear of being over-mastered. But what was to be done afterward when both means of defense failed at once? Glenarvin's heart swelled as he looked at Robert. He forgot himself in thinking of this poor child, as he saw him showing a courage so far above his years. Robert was pale, but he kept his gun ready, and stood with firm foot ready to meet the attacks of the infuriated wolves. However, after Glenarvin had calmly surveyed the actual state of affairs, he determined to bring things to a crisis. In an hour's time, he said, we shall neither have powder nor fire. It will never do to wait till then before we settle what to do. Accordingly, he went up to Thalcave, and tried to talk to him by the help of the few Spanish words his memory could muster, though their conversation was often interrupted by one or the other having to fire a shot. It was no easy task for the two men to understand each other, but most fortunately Glenarvin knew a great deal of the peculiarities of the Red Wolf, otherwise he could never have interpreted the Indians' words and gestures. As it was, fully a quarter of an hour elapsed before he could get any answer from Thalcave to tell Robert in reply to his inquiry. What does he say? He says that at any price we must hold out till daybreak. The aguata only prowls about at night, and goes back to his lair with the first streak of dawn. It is a cowardly beast that loves the darkness and dreads the light, an owl on four feet. Very well, let us defend ourselves then till morning. Yes, my boy, and with knife thrusts when gun and shots fail. Already Thalcave had set the example, for whenever a wolf came too near the burning pile, the long arm of the Patagonian dashed through the flames and came out again reddened with blood. But very soon this means of defense would be at an end. About two o'clock Thalcave flung his last armful of combustibles into the fire, and barely enough powder remained to load a gun five times. Glenarvon threw a sorrowful glance round him. He thought of the lad standing there, and of his companions and those left behind whom he loved so dearly. Robert was silent. Perhaps the danger seemed less imminent to his imagination. But Glenarvon thought for him and pictured to himself the horrible fate that seemed to await him inevitably. Quite overcome by his emotion he took the child in his arms and, straining him convulsively to his heart, pressed his lips on his forehead, while tears he could not restrain streamed down his cheeks. Robert looked up into his face with a smile and said, I am not frightened. No, my child, no, and you are right. In two hours daybreak will come, and we shall be saved. Bravo, Thalcave, my brave Patagonian, bravo! He added as the indie in that moment leveled two enormous beasts who endeavored to leap across the barrier of flames. But the fire was fast dying out, and the faint of the terrible drama was approaching. The flames got lower and lower. Once more the shadows of night fell on the prairie, and the glaring eyes of the wolves glowed like phosphorescent balls in the darkness. A few minutes longer and the whole pack would be in the enclosure. Thalcave loaded his carbine for the last time, killed one more enormous monster, and then folded his arms. His head sank on his chest and he appeared buried in deep thought. Was he planning some daring, impossible, mad attempt to repulse the infuriated horde? Glenarvin did not venture to ask. At this very moment the wolves began to change their tactics. The deafening howls suddenly ceased. They seemed to be going away. Gloomy silence spread over the prairie and made Robert exclaim, they're gone. But Thalcave, guessing his meaning, shook his head. He knew they would never relinquish their sure prey till daybreak made them hasten back to their dens. Still, their plan of attack had evidently been altered. They no longer attempted to force the entrance, but their new maneuvers only heightened the danger. They had gone round the ramada, as by common consent, and were trying to get in on the opposite side. The next minute they heard their claws attacking the moldering wood, and already formidable paws and hungry savage jaws had found their way through the palings. The terrified horses broke loose from their halters and ran about the enclosure, mad with fear. Glenarvin put his arms around the young lad, and resolved to defend him as long as his life held out. Possibly he might have made a useless attempt at flight when his eye fell on Thalcave. The Indian had been stalking about the ramada like a stag, when he suddenly stopped short, and going up to his horse, who was trembling with impatience, began to saddle him with the most scrupulous care without forgetting a single strap or buckle. He seemed no longer to disturb himself in the least about the wolves outside, though their yells had doubled in intensity. A dark suspicion crossed Glenarvin's mind as he watched him. He's going to desert us, he exclaimed at last, as he saw him seize the reins as if preparing to mount. He never replied, Robert. Instead of deserting them, the truth was that the Indian was going to try and save his friends by sacrificing himself. Thaoko was ready, and stood champing his bit. He reared up, and his splendid eyes flashed fire. He understood his master. But just as the Patagonian caught hold of the horse's mane, Glenarvin seized his arm with a convulsive grip and said, pointing to the open prairie, You are going away? Yes, replied the Indian, understanding his gesture. Then he said a few words in Spanish, which meant Thaoko, good horse, quick, will draw all the wolves away after him. Oh, Thalcave, exclaimed Glenarvin. Quick, quick, replied the Indian, while Glenarvin said in a broken, agitated voice to Robert. Robert, my child, do you hear him? He wants to sacrifice himself for us. He wants to rush away over the Pampas and turn off the wolves from us by attracting them to himself. Friend Thalcave returned Robert, throwing himself at the feet of the Patagonian. Friend Thalcave, don't leave us. No, said Glenarvin, he shall not leave us. And turning toward the Indian, he said, pointing to the frightened horses, let us go together. No, replied Thalcave, catching his meaning. Bad beasts, frightened, Thaoko, good horse. Be it so then, returned Glenarvin, Thalcave will not leave you, Robert. He teaches me what I must do. It is for me to go and for him to stay by you. Then, seizing Thaoko's bridle, he said, I am going Thalcave, not you. No, replied the Patagonian quietly. I am, exclaimed Glenarvin, snatching the bridle out of his hands. I, myself, save this boy Thalcave, I commit him to you. Glenarvin was so excited that he mixed up English words with his Spanish. But what mattered the language at such a terrible moment? A gesture was enough. The two men understood each other. However, Thalcave would not give in, and though every instance delay, but increase the danger, the discussion continued. Neither Glenarvin nor Thalcave appeared inclined to yield. The Indian had dragged his companion towards the entrance of the Ramada and showed him the prairie, making him understand that now was the time when it was clear from the wolves, but that not a moment was to be lost. For should this maneuver not succeed, it would only render the situation of those left behind more desperate. And he knew his horse well enough to be able to trust his wonderful lightness and swiftness to save them all. But Glenarvin was blind and obstinate and determined to sacrifice himself at all hazards, when suddenly he felt himself violently pushed back. Thalcave pranced up and reared himself bolt upright on his hind legs and made a bound over the barrier of fire while a clear young voice called out, God save you, my lord. But before either Thalcave or Glenarvin could get more than a glimpse of the boy, holding on fast by Thalcave's mane, he was out of sight. Robert, oh, you unfortunate boy, cried Glenarvin. But even Thalcave did not catch the words, for his voice was drowned in the frightful uproar made by the wolves, who had dashed off at a tremendous speed on the track of the horse. Thalcave and Glenarvin rushed out of the Romada. Already the plane had recovered its tranquility, and all that could be seen of the red wolves was a moving line far away in the distant darkness. Glenarvin sank prostrate on the ground and clasped his hands despairingly. He looked at Thalcave, who smiled with his accustomed calmness and said, Thauca good horse, brave boy, he will save himself. And suppose he falls, said Glenarvin? He'll not fall. But notwithstanding Thalcave's assurances, poor Glenarvin spent the rest of the night in torturing anxiety. He seemed quite insensible now to the danger they had escaped through the departure of the wolves, and would have hastened immediately after Robert if the Indian had not kept him back by making him understand the impossibility of their horses overtaking Thauca, and also that boy and horse had out-distanced the wolves long since, and that it would be useless going to look for them till daylight. At four o'clock morning began to dawn. A pale glimmer appeared in the horizon, and pearly drops of dew lay thick on the plain, and on the tall grass already stirred by the breath of day. The time for starting had arrived. Now cried Thalcave, come. Glenarvin made no reply, but took Robert's horse and sprung into the saddle. Next minute both men were galloping at full speed toward the west, in the line in which the Indians ought to be advancing. They dashed along at a prodigious rate for a full hour, dreading every minute to come across the mangled corpse of Robert. Glenarvin had torn the flanks of his horse with his spurs and his mad haste, when at last gunshots were heard in the distance at regular intervals, as if fired as a signal. There they are, exclaimed Glenarvin, and both he and the Indian urged on their seeds to a still quicker pace, till in a few minutes more they came up to the little detachment of the Ganel. A cry broke from Glenarvin's lips, for Robert was there, alive and well, still mounted on the superb Thauka, who nade loudly with delight at the sight of his master. Oh, my child, my child! cried Glenarvin, with indescribable tenderness in his tone. Both he and Robert leaped to the ground and flung themselves into each other's arms. Then the Indian hugged the brave boy in his arms. He is alive, he is alive! repeated Glenarvin again and again. Yes, replied Robert, and thanks to Thauka. This great recognition of his favorite services was wholly unexpected by the Indian, who was talking to him that minute, caressing and speaking to him, as if human blood flowed in the veins of the proud creature. Then turning to Paganel, he pointed to Robert and said, A brave! And employing the Indian metaphor, he added, his spurs did not tremble, but Glenarvin put his arms around the boy and said, Why wouldn't you let me or Thaukave run the risk of this last chance of deliverance, my son? My lord, replied the boy in tones of gratitude, Wasn't it my place to do it? Thaukave has saved my life already, and you, you are going to save my father. End of Chapter 19 Book 1, Chapter 20 of In Search of the Castaways This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading by Anna Roberts. In Search of the Castaways or The Children of Captain Grant by Jules Verne. Book 1, Chapter 20 Strange Signs After the first joy of the meeting was over, Paganel and his party, except perhaps the major, were only conscious of one feeling. They were dying of thirst. Most fortunately for them, the Guamini ran not far off, but seven in the morning the little troop reached the enclosure on its banks. The precincts were strewed with the dead wolves, and judging from their numbers, it was evident how violent the attack must have been and how desperate the resistance. As soon as the travellers had drunk their fill, they began to demolish the breakfast prepared in the Ramada and did ample justice to these extraordinary vions. The nandu filets were pronounced first rate and the armadillo was delicious. To eat moderately, said Paganel, would be positive in gratitude to Providence. We must eat immoderately. And so they did, but were none the worse for it. The water of the Guamini greatly aided digestion, apparently. Glenarvon, however, was not going to imitate Hannibal at Capua, and at ten o'clock next morning gave the signal for starting. The leather and bottles were filled with water and the days marched commenced. The horses were so well rested that they were quite fresh again and kept up a canter almost constantly. The country was not so parched up now and consequently less sterile, but still a desert. No incident occurred of any importance during the second and third of November, and in the evening they reached the boundary of the Pampas and camped for the night on the frontiers of the province of Buenos Aires. Two-thirds of their journey was now accomplished. It was twenty-two days since they left the bay of Talcahuano and they had gone four hundred fifty miles. Next morning they crossed the conventional line which separates the Argentine plains from the region of the Pampas. It was here that Talcave hoped to meet the Caciques, in whose hands he had no doubt Harry Grant and his men were prisoners. From the time of leaving the Guamini there was marked change in the temperature to the great relief of the travelers. It was much cooler thanks to the violent and cold winds from Patagonia which constantly agitated the atmospheric waves. Horses and men were glad enough of this after what they had suffered from the heat and drought, and they felt animated with fresh ardour and confidence. But contrary to what Talcave had said, the whole district appeared uninhabited or rather abandoned. Their route often led past or went right through small lagoons, sometimes of fresh water, sometimes of brackish. On the banks and bushes about these king-rens were hopping about and larks singing joyously in concert with the tangaras, the rivals in colour of the brilliant hummingbirds. On the thorny bushes the nests of the Anubis swung to and fro in the breeze like an Indian hammock, and on the shore magnificent flamingos stalked in regular order like soldiers marching and spread out their flaming red wings. Their nests were seen in groups of thousands forming a complete town about a foot high and resembling a truncated cone in shape. The flamingos did not disturb themselves in the least at the approach of the travelers, but this did not suit Paganel. I have been very desirous a long time, he said to the major, to see a flamingo flying. All right, replied McNabs. Now, while I have the opportunity, I should like to make the most of it, continued Paganel. Very well, do it, Paganel. Come with me, then, major, and you too, Robert, I want witnesses. And all three went off towards the flamingos, leaving the others to go on in advance. As soon as they were near enough, Paganel fired, only loading his gun, however, with powder, for he would not shed even the blood of a bird uselessly. The shot made the whole assemblage fly away en masse, while Paganel watched them attentively through his spectacles. Well, did you see them fly, he asked the major. Certainly I did, was her reply. I could not help seeing them unless I had been blind. Well, and did you think they resembled feathered arrows when they were flying? Not in the least. Not a bit, added Robert. I was sure of it, said the geographer with a satisfied air, but the very proudest of modest men, my illustrious countryman, Chateaubriand, made the inaccurate comparison. Oh, Robert, comparison is the most dangerous figure and rhetoric that I know. Mind you avoided all your life, and only employ it in a last extremity. Are you satisfied with your experiment, asked McNabs? Delighted. And so am I, but we had better push on now, for your illustrious Chateaubriand has put us more than a mile behind. On rejoining their companions, they found Glenarvan busily engaged in conversation with the Indian, though apparently unable to make him understand. Falcave's gaze was fixed intently on the horizon, and his face wore a puzzled expression. The moment Paganel came in sight, Glenarvan called out, Come along, friend Paganel, Falcave and I can't understand each other at all. After a few minutes' talk with the Patagonian, the interpreter turned to Glenarvan and said, Falcave is quite astonished at the fact, and certainly it is very strange that there are no Indians, nor even traces of any to be seen in these plains, for they are generally thick with companies of them, either driving along cattle stolen from the Estancias, or going to the Andes to sell their Zorillo cloths and plated leather whips. And what does Falcave think is the reason? He does not know, he is amazed, and that's all. But what description of the Indians did he reckon on meeting in this part of the Pampas? Just the very ones who had the foreign prisoners in their hands, the natives under the rule of the Casiques Calfucora, Catriel or Yanche Trous. Who are these Casiques? Chiefs that were all powerful thirty years ago before they were driven beyond the Sierras. Since then they have been reduced to subjection as much as Indians can be, and they scour the plains of the Pampas and the province of Buenos Aires. I quite share Falcave's surprise at not discovering any traces of them in regions which they usually infest as Salteadores or bandits. And what must we do then? I'll go and ask him," replied Paganel. After a brief colloquy he returned and said, This is his advice, and very sensible it is, I think. He says we'd better continue our route to the east as far as Fort Independence, and if we don't get news of Captain Grant there we shall hear at any rate what has become of the Indians of the Argentine plains. Is Fort Independence far away? asked Glenarvin. No, it is in the Sierra Tando, a distance of about sixty miles. And when shall we arrive? The day after tomorrow, in the evening. Glenarvin was considerably disconcerted by this circumstance, not to find an Indian where in general there were only too many was so unusual that there must be some grave cause for it, but worse still if Harry Grant were a prisoner in the hands of any of those tribes had he been dragged away with them to the north or south? Glenarvin felt that, cost what it might, they must not lose his track and therefore decided to follow the advice of Thalcave and go to the village of Tando. They would find someone there to speak to at all events. About four o'clock in the evening a hill which seemed a mountain in so flat a country was sited in the distance. This was Sierra Tapalquem at the foot of which the travelers camped that night. The passage in the morning over the Sierra was accomplished without the slightest difficulty. After having crossed the Cordillera of the Andes it was easy work to ascend the gentle heights of such a Sierra as this. The horses scarcely slacken their speed. At noon they passed the deserted fort of Tapalquem, the first of the chain of forts which defend the southern frontiers from Indian marauders. But to the increasing surprise of Thalcave they did not come across even the shadow of an Indian. About the middle of the day however three flying horsemen well-mounted and well-armed came in sight, gazed at them for an instant, and then sped away with inconceivable rapidity. Gnarvan was furious. Gauchos, said the Patagonian, designating them by the name which had caused such a fiery discussion between the major and Paganel. Ah, the Gauchos, replied McNabs. Well, Paganel, the north wind is not blowing today. What do you think of those fellows yonder? I think they look like regular bandits. How far is it from looking to being, my good geographer? Only just a step, my dear major. Paganel's admission was received with a general laugh which did not in the least disconcert him. He went on talking about the Indians, however, and made this curious observation. I have read somewhere, he said, that about the Arabs there is a peculiar expression of ferocity in the mouth, while the eyes have a kindly look. Now in these American savages it is quite the reverse that the eye has a particularly villainous aspect. No physiognomist, by profession, could have better characterized the Indian race. But desolate as the country appeared, Thalkave was on his guard against surprises and gave orders to his party to form themselves in a close platoon. It was a useless precaution, however. For that same evening they camped for the night in an immense tolleria, which they not only found perfectly empty, but which the Patagonian declared after he had examined it all round must have been uninhabited for a long time. Next day the first Estancias of the Sierra Tandel came in sight. The Estancias are large cattle stations for breeding cattle, but Thalkave resolved not to stop at any of them, but to go straight on to Fort Independence. They passed several farms fortified by battlements and surrounded by a deep moat, the principal building being encircled by a terrace from which the inhabitants could fire down on the marauders in the plain. Glenarvon might perhaps have got some information at these houses, but it was the surest plan to go straight on to the village of Tandel. Accordingly they went on without stopping, fording the Rio of Los Wasos and also the Chapaleofu a few miles further on. Soon they were treading the grassy slopes of the first ridges of the Sierra Tandel, and an hour afterward the village appeared in the depths of a narrow gorge and above it towered the lofty battlements of Fort Independence. End of Chapter 20. Book 1, Chapter 21 of In Search of the Castaways. 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 Roger Maline. In Search of the Castaways, or The Children of Captain Grant by Jules Verne. Book 1, Chapter 21 of False Trail. The Sierra Tandel rises a thousand feet above the level of the sea. That is to say, anterior to all organic and metamorphic creation. It is formed of a semicircular ridge of nice hills covered with fine short grass. The district of Tandel, to which it has given its name, includes all the south of the province of Buenos Aires and terminates in a river which conveys north all the rios that take their rise on its slopes. After making a short ascent up the Sierra, they reach the posturin gate, so carelessly guarded by an Argentine sentinel that they pass through without difficulty, a circumstance which betokened extreme negligence or extreme security. A few minutes afterward, the commandant appeared in person. He was a vigorous man, about fifty years of age, of military aspect, with grayish hair and an imperious eye, as far as one could see through the clouds of tobacco smoke which escaped from his short pipe. His walk reminded Paganel instantly of the old subalterns in his own country. Thal Cave was spokesman, and addressing the officer presented Lord Lennarvin and his companions. While he was speaking, the commandant kept staring fixedly at Paganel in rather an embarrassing manner. The geographer could not understand what he meant by it, and was just about to interrogate him when the commandant came forward and seizing both his hands in the most free and easy fashion, said in a joyous voice in the mother tongue of the geographer, "'A Frenchman!' "'Yes, a Frenchman,' replied Paganel. "'Ah, delightful! Welcome! Welcome! I am a Frenchman too,' he added, shaking Paganel's hand with such vigor as to be almost alarming. "'Is he a friend of yours, Paganel?' asked the major. "'Yes,' said Paganel, somewhat proudly. "'One has friends in every division of the globe.' After he had succeeded in disengaging his hand, though not without difficulty, from the living vise in which it was held, a lively conversation ensued. Glen Arvin would feign have put in a word about the business on hand, but the commandant related his entire history and was not in a mood to stop till he had done. It was evident that the worthy man must have left his native country many years back for his mother tongue had grown unfamiliar, and if he had not forgotten the words he certainly did not remember how to put them together. He spoke more like a negro belonging to a French colony. The fact was that the governor of Fort Independence was a French sergeant, an old comrade of parochipe. He had never left the fort since it had been built in 1828 and strange to say he commanded it with the consent of the Argentine government. He was a man about fifty years of age, a bask by birth, and his name was Manuel Ifarraguer, so that he was almost a Spaniard. A year after his arrival in the country he was naturalized, took service in the Argentine army and married an Indian girl who was then nursing twin babies six months old. Two boys, be it understood, for the good wife of the commandant would never have thought of presenting her husband with girls. Manuel could not conceive of any state but a military one, and he hoped in due time with the help of God to offer the Republic a whole company of young soldiers. You saw them! Charming! Good soldiers are Jose, Juan, and Miguel. Pepe, seven years old, Pepe can handle a gun. Pepe, hearing himself complimented, brought his two little feet together and presented arms with perfect grace. He'll get on, added the sergeant. He'll be Colonel Major or Brigadier General some day. Sergeant Manuel seemed so enchanted that it would have been useless to express a contrary opinion either to the profession of arms or the probable future of his children. He was happy and, as good to say, nothing that makes us happy is an illusion. All this talk took up a quarter of an hour to the great astonishment of Thal cave. The Indian could not understand how so many words could come out of one throat. No one interrupted the sergeant, but all things came to an end and at last he was silent but not till he had made his guests enter his dwelling and be presented to Madame Efarraguer. Then and not till then did he ask his guests what had procured him the honour of their visit. Now or never was the moment to explain and Paganel, seizing the chance at once, began an account of their journey across the Pampas and ended by inquiring the reason of the Indians having deserted the country. Ah, there was no one! replied the sergeant, shrugging his shoulders. Really, no one, and us too, our arms crossed. Nothing to do. But why? War. War? Yes, civil war between the Paraguayans and Buenos Irons, replied the sergeant. Well, well, Indians all in the north in the rear of General Flores. Indian pillagers find pillage there. But where are the Sakiks? Sakiks are with them. What? Catriel? There is no Catriel. And Calfucura? There is no Calfucura. And there is no Yancitrus? No, no Yancitrus. The reply was interpreted by Thal Cave, who shook his head and gave an approving look. The Patagonian was either unaware of or had forgotten that civil war was decimating the two parts of the Republic, a war which ultimately required the intervention of Brazil. The Indians have everything to gain by these intestine strife and cannot lose such fine opportunities of plunder. There was no doubt the sergeant was right in assigning war then as the cause of the forsaken appearance of the plains. But this circumstance upset all Glenarvon's projects, for if Harry Grant was a prisoner in the hands of the Sakiks, it must have been dragged north with them. How and where should they ever find him, if that were the case? Should they attempt a perilous and almost useless journey to the northern border of the pompous? It was a serious question which would need to be well talked over. However, there was one inquiry more to make to the sergeant, and it was the major who thought of it, for all the others looked at each other in silence. Had the sergeant heard whether any Europeans were prisoners in the hands of the Sakiks? Manuel looked thoughtful for a few minutes like a man trying to ransack his memory. At last he said, Yes? Ah! said Glenarvon, catching at the fresh hope. They all eagerly crowded round the sergeant, exclaiming, Tell us, tell us! It was some years ago, replied Manuel. Yes, all I heard was that some Europeans were prisoners, but I never saw them. You are making a mistake, said Glenarvon. It can't be some years ago. The date of the shipwreck is explicitly given. The Britannica was wrecked in June 1862. It is scarcely two years ago. Oh, more than that, my lord. Impossible, said Paganel. Oh, but it must be. It was when Pepe was born. There were two prisoners. No, three, said Glenarvon. Two, replied the sergeant, in a positive tone. Two, echoed Glenarvon, much surprised. Two Englishmen? No, no, who's talking of Englishmen? No, a Frenchman and an Italian. An Italian who was massacred by the Paiuchis, exclaimed Paganel. Yes, and I heard afterward that the Frenchman was saved. Saved, exclaimed young Robert, his very life hanging on the lips of the sergeant. Yes, delivered out of the hands of the Indians. Paganel struck his forehead with an air of desperation and said at last, ah, I understand. It is all clear now. Everything is explained. But what is it? asked Glenarvon, with as much impatience. My friends, replied Paganel, taking both Robert's hands in his own, we must resign ourselves to a sad disaster. We have been on a wrong track. The prisoner mentioned is not the captain at all, but one of my own countrymen, and his companion, who was assassinated by the Paiuchis, was Marco Vizello. The Frenchman was dragged along by the cruel Indians several times as far as the shores of the Colorado were managed at length to make his escape and return to Colorado. Instead of following the track of Harry Grant, we have fallen on that of young Grinard. This announcement was heard with profound silence. The mistake was palpable. The details given by the sergeant, the nationality of the prisoner, the murder of his companions, his escape from the hands of the Indians, all evidenced the fact. Glenarvin looked at Thal cave with a crestfallen face, and the Indian, turning to the sergeant, asked whether he had ever heard of three English captives. Never, replied Manuel. They would have known of them at Tendill, I am sure. No, it cannot be. After this there was nothing further to do at Fort Independence, but to shake hands with the commandant and thank him and take leave. Glenarvin was in despair at this complete overthrow of his hopes, and Robert walked silently beside him with his eyes full of tears. Glenarvin could not find a word of comfort to say to him. Paganel gesticulated and talked away to himself. The Major never opened his mouth, nor Thal cave, who's a more proper as an Indian, seemed quite wounded by having allowed himself to go on a wrong scent. No one, however, would have thought of reproaching him for an error so pardonable. They went back to the fonda and had supper, but it was a gloomy party that surrounded the table. It was not that any of them regretted the fatigue they had so heedlessly endured or the dangers they had run, but they felt their hope of success was gone, for there was no chance of coming across Captain Grant between the Sierra Tendall and the sea, as Sergeant Manuel must have heard if any prisoners had fallen into the hands of the Indians on the coast of the Atlantic. Any event of this nature would have attracted the notice of the Indian traders who trafficked between Tendall and Carmen at the mouth of the Rio Negro. The best thing to do now was to get to the Duncan as quick as possible at the appointed rendezvous. Paganel asked Glenarvin, however, to let him have the document again, on the faith of which they had set out on so bootless a search. He read it over and over as if trying to extract some new meaning out of it. Yet nothing can be clear, said Glenarvin. It gives the date of the shipwreck and the manner and the place of the captivity in the most categorical manner. That it does not— No, it does not, exclaimed Paganel, striking the table with his fist. Since Harry Grant is not on the pompous, he is not in America. But where he is, the document must say. And it shall say, my friends, or my name is not Jacques Paganel any longer. End of Book 1, Chapter 21. Recording by Roger Moline. Chapter 22 of In Search of the Castaways 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 Erica Sims. In Search of the Castaways or The Children of Captain Grant by Jules Verne. Book 1, Chapter 22, The Flood. A distance of 150 miles separates four independents from the shores of the Atlantic. Unless unexpected and certainly improbable delays should occur, in four days, Glenn Arvin would rejoin the Duncan. But to return on board without Captain Grant and after having so completely failed in his search was what he could not bring himself to do. Consequently, when the next day came, he gave no orders for departure. The major took it upon himself to have the horses saddled and to make all preparations. Thanks to his activity, next morning at eight o'clock, he was descending the grassy slopes of the Sierra. Glenn Arvin, with Robert at his side, galloped along without saying a word. His bold to determine the nature made it impossible to take failure quietly. His heart throbbed as if it would burst, and his head was burning. Pajanal, excited by the difficulty, was turning over and over the words of the document and trying to discover some new meaning. Clave was perfectly silent and left Thauke to lead the way. The major, always confident, remained firm at his post like a man whom discouragement takes no hold. Tom Austin and his two sailors shared the dejection of their master. A timid rabbit happened to run across their path and the superstitious men looked at each other in dismay. A bad omen said Wilson. Yes, and in the highlands, repeated Mulrady. What's bad in the highlands is not better here, returned Wilson sententiously. Toward noon they had crossed the Sierra and descended into the undulating plains which extend to the sea. Limpid trios intersected these plains and lost themselves among the tall grasses. The ground had once more become a dead level. The last mountains of the Pampas were passed, and the long carpet of Verdure unrolled itself over the monotonous prairie beneath the horse's tread. Hither, too, the weather had been fine, but today the sky presented anything but a reassuring appearance. The heavy vapors, generated by the high temperature of the preceding days, hung in thick clouds which air-long would empty themselves in torrents of rain. Moreover, the vicinity of the Atlantic and the prevailing West wind made the climate of this district particularly damp. This was evident by the fertility and abundance of the pasture and its dark color. However, the clouds remained unbroken for the present, and in the evening, after a brisk gallop of 40 miles, the horses stopped on the brink of deep canadas, immense natural trenches filled with water. No shelter was near, and ponchos had to serve both for tents and coverlets as each man lay down and fell asleep beneath the threatening sky. Next day, the presence of water became still more sensibly felt. It seemed to exude from every pore of the ground. Soon, large ponds, some just beginning to form and some already deep, lay across the route to the east. As long as they had only to deal with lagoons, circumscribed pieces of water unencumbered with aquatic plants. The horses could get through well enough, but when they encountered moving slobs called pentanos, it was harder work. Tall grass blocked them up, and they were involved in the peril before they were aware. These bogs had already proved fatal to more than one living thing. For Robert, who had got a good bit ahead of the party, came rushing back at full gallop, calling out, Monsieur Pajonel, Monsieur Pajonel, a forest of horns. What? exclaimed the geographer. You have found a forest of horns? Yes, yes, or at any rate, a copus. A copus? replied Pajonel, shrugging his shoulders. My boy, you are dreaming. I am not dreaming, and you will see for yourself. Well, this is a strange country. They sow horns and they sprout up like wheat. I wish I could get some of the seed. The boy is really speaking seriously, said the Major. Yes, Mr. Major, and you will soon see I am right. The boy had not been mistaken. For presently they found themselves in front of an immense field of horns, regularly planted and stretching far out of sight. It was a complete copus, low and closed packed, but a strange sort. Well, said Robert. This is peculiar, certainly, said Pajonel, and he turned round to question Taqlave on the subject. The horns come from the ground, replied the Indian, but the oxen are down below. What, exclaimed Pajonel, do you mean to say that a whole herd was caught in that mud and buried alive? Yes, said the Patagonian. And so it was, an immense herd had been suffocated side by side in this enormous bog, and that was not the first occurrence of the kind which had taken place in the Argentine plains. An hour afterward, and the field of horns lay two miles behind. Taqlave was somewhat anxiously observing a state of things which appeared to him unusual. He frequently stopped and raised himself on his stirrups and looked around. His great height gave him a commanding view of the whole horizon, but after a keen rapid survey, he quickly resumed his seat and went on. About a mile further, he stopped again, and leaving the straight route made a circuit of some miles north and south, turned and fell back in his place at the head of the troop without saying a syllable as to what he hoped or feared. This strange behavior, several times repeated, made Glenarvon very uneasy and quite puzzled Pajonel. At last, at Glenarvon's request, he asked the Indian about it. Taqlave replied that he was astonished to see the plains so saturated with water, never to his knowledge, since he had followed the calling of guide on the ground in this soaking condition. Even in the rainy season, the Argentine plains had always been passable. But what is the cause of this increasing humidity, said Pajonel? I do not know, and what if I did? Could it be owing to the rios of the Sierra being swollen to overflowing by the heavy rains? Sometimes they are. And is it the case now? Perhaps. Pajonel was obliged to be content with this unsatisfactory reply and went back to Glenarvon to report the results of his conversation. And what does Taqlave advise us to do? said Glenarvon. Pajonel went back to the guide and asked him. Go on fast, was the reply. This was easier said than done. The horses soon tired of treading over ground that gave way at every step. They sank each moment more and more until it seemed half under water. They quickened their pace but could not go fast enough to escape the water, which rolled in great sheets at their feet. Before two hours the cataracts of the sky opened and deluged the plain in true tropical torrents of rain. Never was there a finer occasion for displaying philosophic equanimity. There was no shelter and nothing for it but to bear it solidly. The horses were streaming like the overflowing gutterspouts on the roof of a house and the unfortunate horsemen had to submit to a double bath for their horses dashed up the water to their wastes at every step. In this drenching, shivering state and worn out with fatigue they came towards evening to a miserable rancho which could only have been called a shelter by people, not very fastidious and certainly only travelers in extremity would have entered it. But Glenn Arvin and his companions had no choice and were glad enough to burrow in this wretched hovel though it would have been despised by even a poor Indian of the pompous. A miserable fire of grass was kindled which gave out more smoke than heat and was very difficult to keep alight as the torrents of rain which dashed against the ruined cabin outside found their way within and fell in large drops from the roof. Twenty times over the fire would have been extinguished if Mulrady and Wilson had not kept off the water. The supper was a dull meal in neither appetizing nor reviving. Only the major seemed to eat with any relish. The impassive McNabs was superior to all circumstances. Pajanel, Frenchman as he was, tried to joke but the attempt was a failure. My jests are damp, he said, they miss fire. The only consolation in such circumstances was to sleep and accordingly each one lay down an endeavour to find and slumber a temporary forgetfulness of his discomforts and his fatigues. The night was stormy and the planks of the rancho cracked before the blast as if every instant they would give way. The poor horses outside exposed to all the inclimacy of the weather were making piteous moans and their masters were suffering quite as much inside the ruined rancho. However, sleep overpowered them at length. Robert was the first to close his eyes and lean his head against Glenarvon's shoulder and soon all the rest were soundly sleeping too under the guardian eye of heaven. The night passed safely and no one stirred till Thauke awoke them by tapping vigorously against the rancho with his hoof. He knew it was time to start and that a push could give the signal as well as his master. They owed the faithful creature too much to disobey him and set off immediately. The rain had abated but floods of water still covered the ground. Pajanel, on consulting his map, came to the conclusion that the Rios Grande and Viva Rota into which the water from the plains generally runs must have been united in one large bed several miles in extent. Extreme haste was imperative for all their lives depended on it. Should the inundation increase, where could they find refuge? Not a single elevated point was visible on the whole circle of the horizon and on such level plains water would sweep along with fearful rapidity. The horses were spurred onto the utmost and Thauke led the way bounding over the water as if it had been his natural element. Certainly he might justly have been called a seahorse, better than many of the amphibious animals who bear that name. All of a sudden, about ten in the morning, Thauke betrayed symptoms of a violent agitation. He kept turning round toward the south, name continually and snorting with wide open nostrils. He reared violently and Thauke had some difficulty in keeping his seat. The foam from his mouth was tinged with blood from the action of the bit pulled tightly by his master's strong hand and that the fiery animal would not be still. Had he been free, his master knew he would have fled away to the north as fast as his legs would have carried him. What is the matter with Thauke, asked Pajanal? Is he bitten by leeches? They are very voracious in the Argentine streams. No, replied the Indian. Is he frightened at something then? Yes, he sensed danger. What danger? I don't know. But though no danger was apparent to the eye, the ear could catch the sound of a murmuring noise behind the limits of the horizon, like the coming in of the tide. Soon, a confused sound was heard of bellowing and neighing and bleeding. And about a mile to the south, immense flocks appeared, rushing and tumbling over each other in the greatest disorder as they hurried a pale mel along with the inconceivable rapidity. They raised such a whirlwind of water in their course that it was impossible to distinguish them clearly. A hundred whales of the largest size could hardly have dashed up the ocean waves more violently. Anda, Anda! Quick, quick, shouted Thauke in a voice like thunder. What is it then, asked Pajanal? The rising, replied Thauke. He means an inundation, exclaimed Pajanal, flying with the others at Thauke who had spurred on his horse toward the north. It was high time for about five miles south and an immense towering wave was seen advancing over the plain and changing the whole country into an ocean. The tall grass disappeared before it as if cut down by a sith and clumps of mimosas were torn up and drifted about like floating islands. The wave was speeding on with the rapidity of a racehorse and the travelers fled before it like a cloud before a storm wind. They looked in vain for some harbor of refuge and the terrified horses galloped so wildly along that the riders could hardly keep their saddles. Anda, Anda! shouted Thauke. And again they spurred on the poor animals till the blood ran from their lacerated sides. They stumbled every now and then over great cracks in the ground or got entangled in the hidden grass below the water. They fell and were pulled up only to fall again and again and be pushed up again and again. The level of the waters was sensibly rising in less than two miles off. The gigantic wave reared its crested head. For a quarter of an hour this supreme struggle with the most terrible of elements lasted. The fugitives could not tell how far they had gone but judging by the speed the distance must have been considerable. The poor horses however were breast high in water now and could only advance with extreme difficulty. Glen Arvin and Pajanal and indeed the whole party gave themselves up for lost. As the horses were fast getting out of their depth six feet of water would be enough to drown them. It would be impossible to tell the anguish of mine these eight men endured. They felt their own impotence in the presence of these cataclysms of nature so far beyond all human power. Their salvation did not lie in their own hands. Five minutes afterward and the horses were swimming the currents alone carried them along with tremendous force and with a swiftness equal to their fastest gallop they must have gone full twenty miles an hour. All hope of delivery seemed impossible when the major suddenly called out A tree! A tree! exclaimed Glen Arvin. Yes! There! There! replied the clave pointing with his finger to a species of gigantic walnut tree which raised its solitary head above the waters. His companions needed no urging forward now. This tree so opportunally discovered they must reach it at all hazards. The horses very likely might not be able to get to it but at all events the men would the current bearing them right down to it. Just at that moment Tom Austin's horse gave a smothered nay and disappeared. His master freeing his feet from the stirrups began to swim vigorously. Hang on to my saddle! called Glen Arvin. Thanks your honor but I have good stout arms. Robert! How is your horse going? asked his lordship turning to young Grant. Famously my lord he swims like a fish. Look out! shouted the major in a stentorian voice. The warning was scarcely spoken before the enormous billow. A monstrous wave 40 feet high broke over the fugitives with a fearful noise. Men and animals all disappeared in a whirlwind of foam a liquid mass weighing several million tons engulfed them in its seething waters. When it rolled on the men reappeared on the surface and countered each other rapidly but all the horses, except Tauka who still bore his master had gone down forever. Courage! Courage! repeated Glen Arvin supporting Pajanel with one arm and swimming with the other. I can manage! I can manage! said the worthy Savant. I am even not sorry but no one ever knew what he was not sorry about for the poor man was obliged to swallow down the rest of his sentence with half a pint of muddy water. The major advanced quietly making regular strokes worthy of a master swimmer. The sailors took to the water like porpoises while Robert clung to Tauka's mane and was carried along with him. The noble animal swam superbly instinctively making for the tree in a straight line. The tree was only twenty fathoms off and in a few minutes was safely reached by the whole party but for this refuge they must all have perished in the flood. The water had risen to the top of the trunk just to where the parent branches forked out. It was consequently quite easy to clamor up to it but Clavé climbed first and got off his horse to hoist up Robert and help the others. His powerful arms had soon placed all the exhausted swimmers in a place of security but meantime Tauka was being rapidly carried away by the current. He turned his intelligent face towards his master and shaking his long mane made as if to summon him to the rescue. Are you going to forsake him Tauka, Clavé? asked Pajanal replied the Indian and forthwith he plunged down into the tumultuous waters and came up again ten fathoms off. A few instance afterward his arms were round Tauka's neck and master and steed were drifting together towards the misty horizon of the north. End of Book 1, Chapter 22 Book 1, Chapter 23 of In Search of the Castaways This is a LibriVox recording or LibriVox recording saying the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org This recording by Maria Elmene Copenhagen, Denmark In Search of the Castaways or The Children of Captain Grant Belchous Van Book 1, Chapter 23 A Cinkula Abode The tree in which Glenavan and his companions had just found refuge resembled a walnut tree having the same glossy foliage and rounded form. In reality however it was the ombu which grows solidarily on the Argentine plains. The enormous and twisted trinket of this tree was found firmly in the soil not only by its great roots but still more by its vigorous shoots which fastens it down in the most tenacious manner. This was how it stood proof against the shock of the mighty bellow. This ombu measured in height 100 feet and covered with its shadow as a conference of 120 yards. All this scaffolding rested on three great boughs which sprang from the trunk. Two of these rose almost perpendicularly and supported the immense parcel of foliage the branches of which were so crossed and intertwined and entangled as if by the hand of a basket maker that they formed an impenetrable shade. The third arm on the country stretched right out in a horizontal position above the roaring waters into which the lower leaves stepped. There was no wonder of room in the interior of this gigantic tree for there were great gaps in the foliage, perfect glades with air in abundance and freshness everywhere. To see the innumerable branches rising to the clouds and the creepers running from bow to bow and attaching them together while the sunlight glinted here and there among the leaves one might have called it a complete forest instead of a solitary tree sheltering them all. On the arrival of the fugitives a myriad of the feathered tribes fled away into the topmost branches protesting by their outcries against this flagrant unsurpassion of the domicile. These birds who themselves had taken refuge in the solitary ombu were in hundreds comprising black birds starlings isikers higurus and especially the picker-floor hummingbirds of the most risk-blended colors. When they flew away it seemed as though the wind had blown all the flowers of the tree. Such was the asylum offered to the little band of glenalum. Young Grant and the Agile Wilson were scarcely perched on the tree before they had climbed to the upper branches and put their heads through the leafy dome to get a view of the vast horizon. The ocean made by the inundation surrounded them on all sides and as far as the eye could reach seemed to have no limits. Not a single tree was visible on the liquid plain. The ombu stood alone amid the rolling waters and trembled before them. In the distance drifting from south to north carried along by the impetuous torrent they saw trees torn up by the roots twisted branches roofs torn off destroyed ranchos planks of sheds stolen by the deluge from Estangios cacuses of drowned animals bloodstained skins and on a shaky tree a complete family of jaguars howling and clutching whole of their frail raft. Still farther away a black spot almost invisible already caught Wilson's eye. It was Thalcave and his faithful Thauca. Thalcave! Thalcave! shouted Robert stretching out his hands toward the courageous Patagonian. He will save himself, Mr. Robert, replied Wilson. We must go down to his lordship. The next minute they had descended the three stages of bows and landed safely on the top of the trunk where they found Glenavon, Paganel, the Major, Austin and Mulready sitting either astride or in some position they found more comfortable. Wilson gave an account of their investigations aloft and all shared his opinion on Thalcave. The only question was whether it was Thalcave who would save Thauca or Thauca who saved Thalcave. Their own situation, meantime, was much more alarming than his. No doubt the tree would be able to resist the current but the waters might rise higher and higher till the topmost branches were covered for the depression of the soil made this part of the plain a deep reservoir. Glenavon's first care, consequently reached to a certain the progress of the inundation. For the present it was stationary having apparently reached its height this was reassuring. And now what are we going to do said Glenavon. Make our nest of course replied Paganel. Make our nest exclaimed Robert certainly my boy and live the life of birds since we can't die of fishes. All very well said Glenavon. I will, said the Major. All eyes turned toward him immediately and there he sat in a natural armchair formed of two elastic bows holding out his alforgis damp but still intact. Our McNaps that is just like you exclaimed Glenavon. You think of everything even under circumstances which would drive all out of your head. Since it was settled we were not I had no intention of starving of hunger. I should have thought of it too, said Paganel but I am so distraight. And what is in the alforgis said Thomas Austin. Food enough to last seven men for two days replied McNaps. And I hope the inundation will have gone down in twenty-four hours said Glenavon. Or that we shall have found some way of regaining terror firma, added Paganel. Our first business then now is to breakfast said Glenavon. I suppose you mean after we have made ourselves dry, observed the Major. And where the fire asked Wilson. We must make it, returned Paganel. Where? On the top of the trunk of course. And what with? With it at wood we caught off the tree. But how will you kindle it? asked Glenavon. Our tinder is just like a wet sponge. I can disperse with it, replied Paganel. We only want a little dry moss and a ray of sunshine in the lens of my telescope. And you will see what a fire I can get to dry myself by. Who will go and cut wood in the forest? I will, said Robert. And off he scammed like a young cat into the depth of the foliage. Followed by his friend Wilson Paganel said to work to find dry moss and had soon gathered sufficient. This he laid on a bed of damp leaves and where the large branches began to fork out forming a natural earth there was little fear of conflagration. Robert and Wilson speedily reappeared each with an armful of dry wood which they threw on the moss. By the help of the lens it was easily kindled for the sun was blazing overhead. In order to ensure proper draught Paganel stood over the half with his long legs straddled out in the Arab manner then stooping down and racing himself with a rapid motion he made a violent current of air with his poncho which made the wood take fire and soon a bright flame broad in the improvised brassier. After drying themselves each in his own fashion and hanging their ponchos on the tree where they swung to and fro in the breeze they break fasted carefully however rationing out the provisions for the morrow had to be thought of. The immense basin might not empty so soon as Klenavon expected and anyway the supply was very limited. The ambo produced no fruit though fortunately it would likely abound in fresh eggs thanks to the numerous nests stowed away a mountain of leaves not to speak of their feathered proprietors these resources were by no means to be despised. The next business was to install themselves as comfortably as they could stay. As the kitchen and dining-room are on the ground floor said Paganel we must sleep on the first floor the house is large and as the rent is not dear we must not cram ourselves for room I can see a beyonder natural cradles in which once safely tucked up we shall sleep as if we were in the best beds of the world we have nothing to fear besides we all watch and we are numerous enough to repulse a fleet of birds and other wild animals we only want firearms I have my revolvers said Klenavon and I have mine replied Robert but what is the good of them said Tom Orston unless Monsieur Paganel can find out a way of making powder we don't need it replied McNabs exhibiting a powder flask in perfect state of preservation where did you get it from major asked Paganel from Thal cave he thought it might be useful to us and gave it to me before he plunged into the water to save Thalca generous brave Indian exclaimed Klenavon yes replied Tom Orston if all the Patagonians are cut out after the same pattern I must compliment Patagonia I protest against leaving out the horse said Paganel he is part and parcel of the Patagonian and I am much mistaken if we don't see them again the one on the other's back what distance are we from the Atlantic asked the major about 40 miles at the outside replied Paganel and now friends since this is Liberty Hall I beg to take leave of you I am going to choose an observatory for myself of that and by the help of my telescope let you know how things are going out in the world forthwith the geographer said and he went off hoisting himself up very cleverly from bow to bow till he disappeared beyond the thick foliage his companions began to arrange the night quarters and prepare their beds but this was neither a long nor difficult task and very soon they resumed their seats around the fire to have a talk as usual their theme was Captain Grant in three days should the waters subside they would be on board the Duncan again but Harry Grant and his two sailors those poor shipwrecked fellows would not be with them indeed it even seemed after all this ill success and this useless journey across America that all chance of finding them was gone forever where should they commence a fresh quest what grief Lady Helena and Mary Grant would feel on hearing there was no further hope poor sister said Robert it is all up with us by the first time we could not find any comfort to give him what could he say to the lad had they not searched exactly where the documents stated and yet he said this 37th degree of latitude is not a mere figure and that it applies to the shipwreck or the captivity of Harry Grant is no mere guess or supposition we've read it with our own eyes all very true your honour replied Tom Orston and yet our search has been unsuccessful it is both a provoking and hopeless business replied Glenarvon provoking enough certainly said the major but not hopeless it is precisely because we have an uncontestable figure provided for us we should follow it up to the end what do you mean said Glenarvon what more can we do a very logical and simple thing my dear Edward when we go and bow out the Duncan turn a beak head to the east and go right along the 37th parallel till we come back to our starting point if necessary do you suppose I've not thought of that Mr. McNabs replied Glenarvon yes a hundred times but what chances there of success to leave the American continent wouldn't it be to go away from the very spot indicated by Harry Grant and this very Patagonian so distinctly named in the document would you recommend your search in the Pampers where you have the certainty of the shipwreck of the Britannia neither occurred on the coasts of the Pacific nor the Atlantic Glenarvon was silent and however small the chance of finding Harry Grant by following up the given parallel ought we not to try I don't say no replied Glenarvon and are you not of my opinion good friends asked the major addressing the sailors entirely said Tom Orston while Mulroody and Wilson gave an ascending nod listen to me friends said Glenarvon after a few minutes reflection and remember Robert this is a grave discussion I will do my utmost to find Captain Grant and pledge to it and will devote my whole life to the task if needs be all Scotland would unite with me to save so devoted a son as he has been to her I too quite think with you that we must follow the 37th parallel around the globe if necessary however slight our chance of finding him but that is not the question we should settle there's one much more important than that is should we from this time and all together give up our search on the American continent no one made any reply each one seemed afraid to pronounce the word well, resumed Glenarvon addressing himself especially to the major my dear Edward replied McNabs it would be incurring too great a responsibility for me to reply Hick in nuke it is a question which requires reflection I must know first through which countries the 37th parallel of southern latitude passes that is Paganel's business he will tell you that said Glenarvon let us ask him then replied the major but the learned geographer was nowhere to be seen he was hidden among the thick leverage of the umbo and they must call out if they wondered him Paganel Paganel shouted Glenarvon here replied a voice that seemed to come from the clouds where are you in my tower what are you doing there examining the wide horizon could you come down for a minute do you want me yes what for to know what countries the 37th parallel passes through that's easily said I need not disturb myself to come down for that very well tell us now listen then after leaving America the 37th parallel crosses the Atlantic Ocean and then it encounters Altristan de Akunha yes it goes on two degrees below the Cape of Good Hope and afterwards runs across the Indian Ocean and just touches Al-Simpia in the Amsterdam group go on it cuts Australia by the province of Victoria and then after leaving Australia this last sentence was not completed was the geographer hesitating or did he not know what to say no his terrible cry resounded from the top of the tree Glynavon and his friends turned pale and looked at each other what fresh catastrophe had happened now had the unfortunate Paganel slipped on his footing already Wilson and Mulrady had rushed to his rescue when his long body appeared tumbling down from branch to branch but was he living or dead for his hands made no attempt to seize anything to stop himself a few minutes more and he would have fallen into the rolling waters had not the major strong arm bared his passage much obliged Magnaps said Paganel how's this what's the matter with you what came over you another of your absent fits yes yes replied Paganel in a voice almost inarticulate for the motion yes but this was something extraordinary what was it I said we've made a mistake we're making it still and have been all along explain yourself Glynavon Major my friends exclaimed Paganel all you that hear me we're looking for Captain Grant where he is not to be found what do you say exclaimed Glynavon not only where he is not now but where he has never been end of book 1 chapter 23 book 1 chapter 24 of in search of the castaways 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 Maria Elmbang Copenhagen, Denmark in search of the castaways or the children of Captain Grant by Schultz van book 1 chapter 24 Paganel's Disclosure profound astonishment greeted these unexpected words of the learned geographer what could he mean had he lost his sense he spoke with such conviction however that all eyes turned towards Glynavon for Paganel's affirmation was a direct answer to his question but Glynavon shook his head and said nothing though evidently he was not inclined to favour his friend's view yes began Paganel again as soon as he had recovered himself a little yes we have gone a wrong track and read on the document what was never there explain yourself Paganel said the major and more calmly if you can the thing is very simple major like you I was in error like you I had rushed at a false interpretation until about an instant ago on the top of the tree when I was answering your question just as I pronounced the word Australia a sudden flash came across my mind and the document became clear as day what exclaimed Glynavon you mean to say that Harry Grant I mean to say replied Paganel that the word Austral that occurs in the document is not a complete word as we have supposed up until now but just the root of the word Australia well that would be strange said the major strange repeated Glynavon shrugging his shoulders it is simply impossible impossible return Paganel that is a word we don't allow in France what continued Glynavon in a tone of the most profound incredulity you dare to contend with a document in your hand that the shipwreck of the Britannia happened on the shores of Australia I'm sure of it replied Paganel conscience exclaimed Glynavon I must say I'm surprised at such a declaration from the secretary of a geographical society and why so said Paganel touched in his weak point because if you allow the word Australia you must also allow the word Indians and Indians are never seen there Paganel was not the least surprised at this rejoinder doubtless he expected it he began to smile and said my dear Glynavon don't triumph over me too fast I'm going to flaw you completely and never was an Englishman more thoroughly defeated than you will be it will be the revenge for Chrissy and Egingcourt I wish nothing better take your revenge Paganel listen then in the text of the document there's neither mention of the Indians nor of Patagonia the incomplete word does not mean Indians but of course indigenous now do you admit that there were Aborigines in Australia Bravo Paganel said the major well do you agree to my interpretation my dear lord ask the geographer again yes replied Glynavon if you will prove to me that the fragment of a word does not refer to the country of the Patagonians unfortunately it does not it has nothing to do with Patagonia said Paganel breed it any other way you please accept that how? Agony said the major I don't care which returned Paganel the word is quite unimportant I will not even try to find out its meaning the main point is that astral means astraly and we must have gone blindly on a wrong track and covered the explanation at the very beginning it was so evident if I had found the document myself and my judgment had not been misled by your interpretation I should never have read it differently at burst of horrors and congratulations and compliments followed Paganel's words Austin and the sailors and the major and Robert most all overjoyed at this fresh hope and applauded him heartily while even Glynavon whose eyes were gradually getting open was almost prepared to give in I only want to know one thing more my dear Paganel he said and then I must bow to your perspicacity what is that how will you group the words together according to your new interpretation how will the document read easily enough answered here's the document replied Paganel taking out the precious paper he had been studying so conscientiously for the last few days for a few minutes complete silence while the word the Savant took time to collect his thoughts before complying with his lordship's request then putting his finger on the words and emphasising some of them he began as follows during the 7th 1862 the Trois-Mars Britannica de Glasgow as sombre appraise put if you please de chur tro du chur or une lotion agonie it's quite a matter of indifference sous les côtés de l'Australais c'est dirigant à terre de m'attreuer et d'incapital grand vont essayer d'avoir ou on aborder les continents où ils seront sont prisonniers des creux indignés ils ont gés de document etc is that clear clear enough if the word continent is to be applied to Australia which is only an island make yourself easy about that my dear Glenarvon the best geographies have agreed to call the island the Australian continent then all I have now to say is my friends said Glenarvon away to Australia and may heaven help us to Australia echoed his companions with one voice I'll tell you what Paganel added Glenarvon looking on board the Duncan is a perfect providence alright look on me as a messenger of providence and let us drop the subject so the conversation ended a conversation which great results were to follow it completely changed the moral condition of the travellers it gave the clue of the labyrinth in which they had thought themselves hopelessly entangled and admit their own projects inspired them with fresh hope they could now quit the American continent without the least hesitation and already their thoughts had flown to the Australia in going on aboard the Duncan again they would not bring despair with them and Lady Helena and Mary Grant would not have to mourn the irrevocable loss of Captain Grant this thought so filled them with joy that they forgot all the dangers of their actual situation and only regretted that they could not start immediately it was about four o'clock in the afternoon and they determined to have supper at six Paganel wished to get up a splendid spread in honour of the occasion but as the materials were very scanty he proposed to Robert to go and hunt in the neighbouring forest Robert clasped his hands at the idea so they took their caves, powder flask cleaned the revolvers and loaded them with small shot and set off don't go too far and made a gravely to the two hunters after their departure Glenarvon and McNabs went down to examine the state of the water by looking at the notches they had made on the tree and Wilton and Morady replenished the fire no sign of decrease appeared in the surface of the immense lake yet the flat seemed to have reached its maximum height but the violence with which it rushed from the south to north proved that the equilibrium between the rivers was not restored before getting lower the liquid mass must remain stationary as in the case with the ocean before the ebb tide commences while Glenarvon and his cousin were making these observations the report of firearms resounded frequently above their heads and the jubilant outcries of the two sportsmen for Paganel was every wit as much a child as Robert they were having a fine time of it among the thick leaves judging by the peels of lofter which rang out in the boys clear treble voice and Paganel's deep bass the chase was evidently successful and wonders in the culinary art might be expected Wilson had a good idea to begin with which he had skillfully carried out for when Glenarvon came back to the brochure he found that the brave fellow had actually managed to catch with only a pin and a piece of string several dozen small fish as delicate as smelts called majoras which were all jumping about in a fold of his poncho ready to be converted into an exquisite dish at the same moment the hunters reappeared Paganel was carefully carrying some black swallow's eggs and a spring of sparrows which he meant to serve up later under the name of fieldlocks Robert had been clever enough to bring down several braids of hulkures small green and yellow birds which are excellent eating and greatly in demand on the Montevideo market Paganel knew 50 ways of dressing eggs was obliged for this once to be content with simply hardening them on the hot embers but notwithstanding this the viands at the meal were both dainty and varied the dried beef, hard eggs grilled morass, sparrows and roast hill juice made one of those gala feasts of which is imperishable the conversation was very animated many compliments were paid Paganel on his twofold talents as hunter and cook which the savant accepted with a modesty which characterizes true merit then he turned the conversation on the peculiarities of the umbo under whose canopy they had found shelter and whose depths he declared wayments Robert and I, he added justingly thought ourselves hunting in the open forest I was afraid for the minute we should lose ourselves for I could not find the road the sun was sinking below the horizon I sought vainly for footmarks I began to feel the sharp pangs of hunger and the gloomy depths of the forest resounded already with the roar of wild beasts no, no, no, not that there are no wild beasts here, I'm sorry to say what? exclaims you're sorry that there are no wild beasts certainly I am and yet we should have every reason to dread their ferocity their ferocity is nonexistent scientifically speaking replied the learned geographer now come Paganel said the major you'll never make me admit the utility of wild beasts, what good are they? why major exclaim Paganel for purposes of classification into orders and families and species and subspecies him mighty advantage certainly replied Magnaps I could dispense with all that if I had been one of Noah's companions at the time of the deluge I should most assuredly have hindered the imprudent patriarch from putting in a pair of lions and tigers and pandas and bears and such animals for they are as malevolent as they are useless you would have done that asked Paganel yes I would have done wrong in a so logical point of view returned Paganel but not in a humanitarian one rejoined the major it is shocking replied Paganel why for my part on the contrary I should have taken special care to preserve megatheriums and protodactylists and all of the Andean species of which we are unfortunately deprived by his neglect and I say returned Magnaps it was a very good thing when he abandoned them to their fate that is if they lived in his day and I said it was a very bad thing retorted Paganel and he has justly merited the malediction of savants to the end of time the rest of the party could not help laughing at hearing the two friends disputing over old Noah contrary to all his principles the major who all his life had never disputed with anybody was always bearing with Paganel the geographer seemed to have a peculiar exciting effect on him Klenavan as usual always the peacemaker interfered in the debate and said whether the loss of ferocious animals is to be regretted or not in a scientific point of view there's no help for it now we must be content to do without them Paganel can hardly expect to meet with wild beasts in this aerial forest why not asked the geographer a tree exclaimed to Malston yes undoubtedly the American tiger with Jaguar takes refuge in trees when the chase gets too hot for him it is quite possible that one of these animals surprised by the induration might have climbed up until this umbo and be hiding now among its thick foliage you haven't met any of them at any rate I suppose said the major no replied Paganel no we hunted all through the wood it is vexing thought it would have been a splendid chase a jaguar is a bloodthirsty ferocious creature he can twist the neck of a horse with a single stroke of his paw when he has once tasted human flesh he sense it greedily he likes to eat an Indian best and next to him a negro the namalato and last of all a white man I am delighted to hear we come number four said McNabs that only proves you are insipid retorted Paganel with an air of disdain I am delighted to be insipid was the major's reply well it is humiliating enough said the intractable Paganel the white man proclaimed himself chief of the human race but Mr. Jaguar is of a different opinion it seems be that as it may my brave Paganel seeing there are neither engines nor negroes normalatos among us I am quite rejoiced at the absence of your beloved Jaguar's our situation is not so particularly agreeable what? not agreeable exclaimed Paganel jumping at the word as likely to give a new tone to the conversation you are complaining of your lot, Glenarvan I should think so indeed replied Glenarvan do you find these uncomfortable hard branches very luxurious I have never been more comfortable even if in my study we live like the birds we sing and fly about I begin to believe men were intended to live on trees but they want wings suggested the major they'll make them some day until then put in Glenarvan with your leave I prefer the gravel of a park or the floor of a house or the deck of a ship to this aerial dwelling we must take some things as they come Glenarvan return Paganel so much the better if bad never mind I see you are wishing you had all the comforts of milk and castle no but I am quite certain Robert is perfectly happy interrupted Paganel eager to ensure one partisan at least yes that I am exclaimed Robert in a joyous tone at this age it was quite natural replied Glenarvan and at mine too returned the geographer the fewer ones comforts the fewer ones needs and the fewer ones needs the greater ones happiness now now said the major here's Paganel running a tilt against riches and gilt ceilings no McNabs replied this of all I'm not but if you like I'll tell you a little Arabian story that comes into my mind very apropos this minute oh do do said Robert and what is your story to prove Paganel read the major much what all stories prove my brave comrade not much then rejoined McNabs but go on and tell us the story there was once said Paganel a son of the great Haroun al-Rashid who was unhappy and went to consult an old dervish the old sage told him that happiness was a difficult thing to find in this world however he added I know an infallible means of procuring your happiness what is it asked the young prince it is to put the shirt of a happy man on your shoulders whereupon the prince embraced the old man and set out at once to search for his talisman he visited all the capital cities in the world he tried on the shirts of kings and emperors and princes and nobles but all in vain he found one man among them who was happy then he put on the shirts of artists and warriors and merchants but these were no better by this time he had travelled a long way without finding what he sought at last he began to despair of success and began sorrowfully to retrace his steps back to his father's palace when one day he heard an honest peasant singing so merrily as he drove the plough and as happy if there is such a thing as happiness on the earth forthwith he accosted him and said are you happy yes was the reply there's nothing you desire nothing you would not change your lot for that of a king never well then sell me your shirt my shirt I haven't won end of book one chapter 24 chapter 25 of the castaways this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this recording has been Mark Smith of Simpsonville, South Carolina in search of the castaways by Jules Verne chapter 25 between fire and water before turning into their nest as Paginal called it he and Robert and Glenn Arving climbed up into the observatory to have one more inspection of the liquid plane it was about nine o'clock the sun had just sunk behind the glowing mists of the western horizon the eastern horizon was gradually assuming a most stormy aspect a thick dark bar of cloud was rising higher and higher and by degrees extinguishing the stars before long half the sky was overspread evidently motive power lay in the cloud itself for there was not a breath of wind absolute calm rained in the atmosphere not a leaf stirred on the tree not a ripple disturbed the surface of the water there seemed to be scarcely any air even as though some vast pneumatic machine had rarefied it the entire atmosphere was charged to the utmost with electricity the presence of which sent a thrill through the whole nervous system of all animated beings we are going to have a storm said Paginal you're not afraid of thunder are you Robert? asked Glenn Arving no my lord exclaimed Robert well my boy so much the better for a storm is not far off and a violet one too added Paginal if I may judge by the look of things it is not the storm I care about said Glenn Arving so much as the torrents of rain that will accompany it we shall be soaked to the skin whatever you may say Paginal a nest won't do for a man and you will learn that soon to your cost with the help of philosophy it will replied Paginal philosophy that won't keep you from getting drenched well said Glenn Arving we had better go down to our friends and advise them to wrap themselves up in their philosophy and their ponchos as tightly as possible and above all to lay in a stock of patience for we shall need it before very long Glenn Arving gave a last glance at the angry sky the clouds now covered it entirely only a dim streak of light shown faintly in the west a dark shadow lay on the water and it could hardly be distinguished from the thick vapours above it there was no sensation of light or sound all was darkness and silence around let us go down said Glenn Arving the thunder will soon burst over us on returning to the bottom of the tree they found themselves to their great surprise in a sort of dim twilight produced by myriads of luminous specks which appeared buzzing confusedly in the water it is phosphorescence, I suppose said Glenn Arving no, but phosphorescent insects positive glowworms living diamonds which the ladies of Buenos Aires convert into magnificent ornaments what? exclaimed Robert those sparks flying about are insects? yes, my boy Robert caught one in his hand and found Pagna was right it was a kind of large drone an inch long and the Indians call it Tukotuko this curious specimen of the colioptera sheds its radiance from two spots in the front of its breastplate and the light is sufficient to read by holding his watch close to the insect Pagna saw distinctly that the time was 10 p.m. on rejoining the major and his three sailors Glenn Arving warned them of the approaching storm and advised them to secure themselves in their beds of branches as firmly as possible for there was no doubt that after the first clap of thunder the wind would become unchained and the ombu would be violently shaken though they could not defend themselves from the waters above they might at least keep out of the rushing current beneath they wished one another good night though hardly daring to hope for it and then each one rolled himself in his poncho and lay down to sleep but the approach of the great phenomena of nature excites vague uneasiness in the heart of every sentient being even in the most strong-minded the whole party in the ombu felt agitated and oppressed and not one of them could close his eyes the first peel of thunder found them wide awake it occurred about 11 p.m. and sounded like a distant rolling Glenn Arving ventured to creep out in his sheltering foliage and made his way to the extremity of the horizontal branch to take a look around the deep blackness of the night was already scarified with sharp bright lines which were reflected back by the water with unearing exactness the clouds had rent in many parts but noiselessly like some soft cotton material after attentively observing both the zenith and horizon Glenn Arving went back to the center of the rock well, Glenn Arving what's your report? asked Paginal I say it is beginning in good earnest and if it goes on so we shall have a terrible storm so much the better replied the enthusiastic Paginal I should like a grand exhibition since we can't run away that's another of your theories said the Major and one of my best McNabs I am of Glenn Arving's opinion that the storm will be superb just a minute ago when I was trying to sleep several facts occurred to my memory that make me hope it will for we are in the region of great electrical tempests for instance I have read somewhere that in 1793 in this very province of Buenos Aires lightning struck 37 times during one single storm my colleague Monsieur Martin de Moussi counted 55 minutes of uninterrupted rolling watch in hand asked the Major watch in hand only one thing makes me uneasy added Paginal if it is of any use to be uneasy and that is that the culminating point of this plane is just this very ombu where we are a lightning conductor would be very serviceable to us at present for it is this tree especially among all that grow in the pompous that the thunder has a particular affection for besides I need not tell you friend that learned men tell us never to take refuge under trees during a storm most seasonable advice certainly in our circumstances said the Major I must confess Paginal replied Glenn Arving that you might have chosen a better time for this reassuring information bah replied Paginal all times are good for getting information ha now it's beginning louder peals of thunder interrupted this inner-opportune conversation the violence increasing with the noise till the whole atmosphere seemed to vibrate with rapid oscillations the incessant flashes of lightning took various forms some darted down perpendicularly from the sky five or six times in the same place in succession others would have excited the interest of a savant to the highest degree for the Aragau in his curious statistics only cites two examples of forked lightning it was visible here hundreds of times some of the flashes branched out in a thousand different directions making corraliform zigzags and threw out wonderful jets of arborescent light soon the whole sky from east to north seemed supported by a phosphoric band of intense brilliancy this kept increasing by degrees till it overspread the entire horizon kindling the clouds which were faithfully mirrored in the waters as if they were masses of combustible material beneath and presented the appearance of an immense globe of fire the center of which was the ombu Glenarvin and his companions gazed salently at this terrifying spectacle they could not make their voices heard but the sheets of white light which enwrapped them every now and then revealed the face of one and another sometimes the calm features of the major sometimes the eager curious glance of Paginal or the energetic face of Glenarvin and at others the scared eyes of the terrified Robert and the careless looks of the sailors investing them with a weird spectral aspect however as yet no rain had fallen and the wind had not risen in the least but this state of things was of short duration before long the cataracts of the sky burst forth and came down in vertical streams as the large drops fell splashing into the lake fiery sparks seemed to fly out from the illuminated surface was the rain the finale of the storm if so Glenarvin and his companions got free except for a few vigorous douche-baths no at the very height of this struggle of the electric forces of the atmosphere a large ball of fire appeared suddenly at the extremity of the horizontal parent branch as thick as a man's wrist and surrounded with black smoke this ball after turning round and round for a few seconds burst like a bombshell and with so much noise that the explosion was distinctly audible among the general fracas a sulfurous smoke filled the air and complete silence rained till the voice of Tom Austin was heard shouting the tree is on fire Tom was right in a moment as if some fireworks were being ignited the flame ran along the west side of the ombu the dead wood and nests of dried grass and the whole sap which was of a spongy texture supplied food for its devouring activity the wind had risen now and fanned the flame it was time to flee and Glenarvin in his party hurried away to the eastern side of their refuge which was meantime untouched by the fire they were all silent troubled and terrified as they watched branch after branch shrivel and crack and writhe in the flame like living serpents and then drop into the swollen torrent still red and gleaming as it was born swiftly along on the rapid current the flame sometimes rose to a prodigious height and seemed almost lost in the atmosphere and sometimes beaten down by the hurricane closely enveloped the ombu like a robe of neccess terror seized the entire group they were almost suffocated with smoke and scorched with the unbearable heat for the conflagration had already reached the lower branches on their side of the ombu and they saw it or check its progress was impossible and they saw themselves irrevocably condemned to a torturing death like the victims of Hindu divinities at last their situation was absolutely intolerable of the two deaths staring them in the face they had better choose the less cruel to the water exclaimed Glenarvin Wilson who was nearest the flames had already plunged into the lake but next minute he screamed out in the most violent terror help! help! Austin rushed toward him and with the assistance of the major dragged him up again on the tree what's the matter? they asked alligators replied Wilson the whole foot of the tree appeared to be surrounded by these formidable animals of the Saurian order by the glare of the flames they were immediately recognized by Paginal as the ferocious species peculiar to America called caimans in the Spanish territories about ten of them were there lashing the water with their powerful tails and attacking the ombu with the long teeth of their lower jaw at this site the unfortunate men gave themselves up to be lost a frightful death was in store for them since they must either be devoured by the fire or by the caimans even the major said in a calm voice this is the beginning of the end now there are circumstances in which men are powerless when the unchained elements can only be combated by other elements Glenarving gazed with haggard looks at the fire and water leagued against him hardly knowing what deliverance to implore from heaven the violence of the storm had evaded but it had developed in the atmosphere a powerful quantity of vapors to which electricity was about to communicate immense force an enormous water-spout was gradually forming in the south a cone of thick mists but with a point at the bottom and base at the top linking together the turbulent water and the angry clouds this meteor soon began to move forward turning over and over on itself with dizzy rapidity and sweeping up into its center a lump of water from the lake while its gyratory motions made all the surrounding currents of air rush towards it a few seconds more and the gigantic water-spout threw itself on the ombu and caught it up in its whirl the tree shook to its roots Glenarving could fancy the caimans teeth were tearing it up from the soil whereas he and his companions held on each clinging firmly to the other they felt the towering ombu give way and the next minute it fell right over with a terrible hissing noise as the flaming branches touched the foaming water it was the work of an instant already the water-spout had passed to carry on its destructive work elsewhere it seemed to empty the lake in its passage by continually drawing up the water into itself the ombu now began to drift rapidly along by wind and current all the caimans had taken their departure except one that was crawling over the upturned roots and coming toward the poor refugees with wide open jaws but Mulrady, seizing hold of a branch that was half burned off struck the monster such a tremendous blow that it fell back into the torrent and disappeared lashing the water with its formidable tail Glenarving and his companions from the voracious Sarians stationed themselves on the branches windward of the complication while the ombu sailed along like a blazing fire ship through the dark night the flames spreading themselves round like sails before the breath of the hurricane