 14. It was fortunate that our three Europeans had come to Sohar on business and not on pleasure. The town is not worth a tourist's attention, and the visit is not worth the voyage. The streets are clean enough, the squares are sunny enough. There is a watercourse that just about supplies the wands of the few thousand inhabitants when their throats are parsed by the ardor of the dog days. There are a few houses scattered about which are lighted from an interior court in the Oriental Way. There's a good-sized building of no particular style with which the Sultan has to contend himself when he takes his two or three weeks holiday in the north of his kingdom. However unimportant it may be, Sohar nonetheless exists in the shore of the Gulf of Oman, and the best proof that can be given of this is that its geographical position had been determined with all the desirable precision. It is in longitude 54 degrees 29 minutes east and in latitude 24 degrees 37 minutes north. Hence, according to the information given by Kamalik Pasha, the island had to be sought for in 28 minutes of arc to the east and 22 to the north of Sohar. Hotels are not numerous at Sohar. There is only a sort of caravanserai in which a few rooms or other cells arranged in a circle are each furnished with a bed, and there it was that the interpreter Salik, always so useful, took Captain Antifur and his two companions. It need hardly be said that, fatigued by their day's journey, Jewel and Tregormane's only wish was for a good supper and 12 hours sleep to follow. But it was not easy to get Antifur to join them, reasonable as the suggestion might be. More and more excited by his near approach to his island, he would hear of no delay, but wish to charter a boat at once. To rest when he had but a stride to take, a stride of a dozen leagues it is true, to put his foot on his corner of the globe where Kamalik had buried his barrels. There was an exciting scene before he calmed down sufficiently to agree to take a few precautions. Too much haste would make the Sohar police suspicious. The treasure was not likely to be stolen during the next 24 hours. Would it were, said Tregormane, my poor friend would go mad if it is not there, and if it is there? And these fears were in a certain measure justified. But if Captain Antifur, deceived in his hopes, was in danger of going mad, a similar deception might affect Sa'ouk as to produce no less terrible consequences. The false Nazim might indulge in excesses of violence from which Ben Omar would not escape without damage. His impatience was as feverish as that of Antifur, and it may be safely affirmed that there were at least two travelers that night who knew no sleep in the cells of the caravan Sarai. They were advancing toward the same object by different roads. One was waiting for daylight to find a boat. The other was thinking of securing a score of resolute scoundrels who, for a good price, could be hired to carry off the treasure during the return from Sohar. Day came at last, this memorable day, the 28th of March. His take advantage of Salik's offers was evidently the best thing to do, and to Jewel it fell to make the best terms he could with the sublaging Arab, who, more suspicious than ever, had passed the night in the court of the caravan Sarai. Jewel was in some difficulty in explaining his wants to Salik. Here were three strangers, three Europeans, who had arrived the night before and were in a hurry to obtain a boat. What they wanted was a sail. What other pretext could be given? A sail in the Gulf of Oman, which would at least last 24 hours. Was not that a curious arrangement? And even more than curious. Perhaps Jewel was mistaken in his surmises as to what the interpreter would think of it. Anyhow, the difficulty had to be faced, and as soon as he met the Arab, Jewel asked him to find a boat that could remain at sea for a couple of days. Are you going to cross the Gulf of Salik and land on the Persian coast? That idea occurred to Jewel to allude this question by a very natural reply, which might allay any suspicion, even on the part of the authorities of Sahar. No, he said, it is a geographical exploration. We want to determine the position of the principal islands in the Gulf. There are a few off Sahar, are there not? Yes, there are a few, said Salik, but they are none of any importance. It does not matter, said Jewel. Before we establish ourselves on the coast, we wish to visit the Gulf. As you please. Salik said no more, while the young captain's reply seemed suspicious. He was aware of what had been told to the French agent with regard to the establishment of a branch office in one of the coast towns, and he might well think that this hardly agreed with the exploration of the Gulf of Le Mans. And consequently, Antefer and his companions were more seriously suspected than ever, and were more strictly watched. A regrettable complication this, which rendered the success of the operation very problematical. If the treasure were found on the island, his highness would probably be immediately informed of it, and his highness, who was as unscrupulous as he was powerful, might make a way with Kamalik's legatee to save any future claim. Salik undertook to find the boat required for the exploration of the Gulf, and promised that it should be manned by a crew who could be thoroughly trusted. Provisions would have to be taken for two or three days, during the uncertain equinoctical weather. Preparations were necessary for delays, which if not probable, were at least possible. Jewel thanked the interpreter, and assured him that his services would be handsomely rewarded. Salik appeared most grateful for the promise, and added, perhaps it would be better for me to accompany you during this excursion. In your ignorance of Arabic, you might have some difficulty in dealing with the captain of the boat and his men. You are right, replied Jewel. Remain in our service while we were at Sahar, and, I repeat, you will not waste your time. They separated. Jewel went to rejoin his uncle, who was walking on the beach with Tregemain, and reported what he had done. The bargeman was delighted to have as a guide and interpreter of the young Arab, when we considered, not without reason, to have such a very intelligent face. Captain Antefer signified his approval by a mere nod on the head. Then he suddenly observed, and this vessel, our interpreter is seeing about it, and also about the provisions. It seems to me that one of these boats in the harbor might be got ready in an hour or two. We're not going for a trip around the world. No, my friend, replied the bargeman, but we must give the people a little time. Do not be so impatient. Pray. And if I choose to be impatient, what then retorted Antefer with a furious look at Tregemain? Then be impatient, said the worthy bargeman with a differential bow. However, the day was getting on, and Jewel had heard no more of the Arab. He can easily be imagined how Captain Antefer's irritation increased. Already he began to talk of sending Selig to the bottom of the gulf. In vain, Jewel tried to defend him. As to Tregemain, he was told to shut up as soon as he began to praise Selig's intelligence. A beggar shouted Antefer, a rascal, your interpreter, a scalder in whom I have no confidence, and who has only one idea, to rob us of our money. I have given him none, Uncle. Then you ought to have done so. If you had given him something good on account, you would have said he wanted to rob us. It does not matter. Another Jewel nor Tregemain attempted to combat these contradictory ideas. The best thing to do was to keep Antefer quiet and prevent him from committing some imprudence, which would give rise to suspicions. Would they succeed with a man who would listen to nothing? Were there no fishing boats in the harbor? Would it not be enough to take one, to agree with the crew, and to go on board, to set sail and to steer to the northeast? And how could we understand these people, said Jewel, seeing that we do not understand a word of Arabic, and that they do not know a word of French, added the bargeman. Why don't they know it retorted Antefer furiously? They are in the wrong, quite in the wrong, replied Tregemain, anxious to appease his friend by this concession. It is all your fault, Jewel. No, uncle, I have acted for the best, and our interpreter will soon come back. After all, if you don't trust him, why not make use of Ben Omar and his clerk who speak Arabic? And they are on the key, never. That would be too much. It is already too much to have them always in tow. Ben Omar seems to wish to speak to us, said Tregemain. Let him do it, and I'll give him a broadside that will sink him. In fact, Saouk and the Notary were maneuvering in Antefer's wake. When it left the caravanserai, they had followed him. Their duty was to keep him in sight. Their right was to be present at the conclusion of this financial enterprise, which threatened to develop into a drama. Saouk was urging Ben Omar to enter into conversation with a terrible Antefer, but the Notary did not care to face him in his present state of fury. Saouk would have willingly assumed the place of the cowardly Notary, and was sorry to have feigned ignorance of the language, which prevented his intervening directly in the matter. Jewel could not but see that his uncle Tregemain of Ben Omar made things worse. Once more he tried to make him understand this. The occasion seemed to be favorable, as the Notary had evidently come to say something to him. Listen to me, uncle, whether you were angry or not. Let us reason a little, as we are reasonable beings. It remains to be seen, Jewel, before you understand by reason is not unreason. What is it you want? To ask if, now we are nearing the end, you still persist in not recognizing Ben Omar. Certainly I persist. The scoundrel tried to steal Mike's secret when his duty was to hand you over his. He is a rascal. I know that, and I do not wish to defend him. But whether or no, his presence is imposed on you by a clause in the will of Kamalikpasha. Yes. Has he not to be on the island when you dig up the three casks? Yes. And is he not the right to value them, but the very fact that he is entitled to a commission of so much percent on their value? Yes. Well, if he has to be present at the operation, already not to know where we are going and what we are going to do? Yes. And if by your fault or any other circumstance he is not able to assist his executor, might not the succession be contested, and would that be a matter for a lawsuit which you would certainly lose? Yes. Then have you to submit in the company of Ben Omar during your excursion in the Gulf? Yes. Will you then tell him that he is to get ready to go with you? No, replied Entfer. And the word no was uttered in so affordable a voice that is struck the notary full in the chest like a bullet. You see, said Tregemain, you will not listen to reason when you are wrong. Why do you struggle against wind and tide? Nothing could be more sensible than to listen to Jewel, nothing more reasonable than to follow his advice. Ben Omar is no more to me than he is to you, but to not lose your head about him. It was rare for Tregemain to indulge in so long a bottle log, and still rare for his friend to let him finish. Have you finished, asked Captain Entfer? Yes, replied Tregemain, giving a glance of triumph at Jewel. And you too, Jewel? Yes, uncle. Well, then you could both go to Jericho. You could talk to the notary if you like. As for me, I will not have a word to say to the rascal. You can do just as you please. And thereupon he swore a terrible oath, put up his helm, and ran off before the wind. Nevertheless, Jewel got what he wanted. His uncle, seeing that he was compelled to do so, had not forbidden him to let the notary know his intentions. And as Ben Omar, urged on by Saouk, approached with more courage now that Entfer had gone, only a few words were required. Sir, said Ben Omar, bowing low to atone by the humility of his attitude for the audacity of his proceedings. Will you pardon me if I permit myself? Come to the point, said Jewel. What do you want? To know if we are at the end of our journey. Almost. Where is the island we are to search of? About twelve leagues off Sahar. What, exclaimed Ben Omar, must we go on the sea again? Apparently. That does not seem to suit you, said the barge man, taking pity on the poor man, who was almost fainting, as if his heart was already failing him. Saouk looked on, affecting the most complete indifference, the indifference of one who did not understand a word of the language. Cheer up, said Tregorvain. Two or three days at sea will soon be over. You may get your sea legs at last, with a little practice. The notary shook his head and wiped his forehead, which was wet with cold perspiration. Then in a mournful voice he said, And where do you start from? From here. When? As soon as our boat is ready. And when will that be? This evening, perhaps, or certainly tomorrow morning. You better be ready to start with your clerk Mazine, if you cannot do without him. I will, I will, replied Ben Omar. And may Allah help you, added the barge man, giving free vent to his natural kindness in the absence of Captain Antigua. Ben Omar and Saouk had nothing more to learn except the position of the famous island. But as the young captain had not given it to them, they retired. When Jules said that the boat would be ready that evening or the next morning, was he not rather premature? So Tragraman remarked, In fact, it was three o'clock in the afternoon, and there was no sign in the interpreter. Jules and Tragraman were getting anxious, if they had to dispense with his services, what difficulty they would be in dealing with the Sohar fishermen, and having to make themselves understood by gestures. How could they manage in such a manner with regard to the cargo, the object of the expedition, the direction in which they were to go? As a last resource, it is true Ben Omar and Nazim knew Arabic, but the call and their assistance was hardly desirable. Fortunately, Salih kept his promise. About five o'clock, as the barge man and Jules were returning to the caravan Sarai, he appeared on the scene. At last exclaimed Jules. Salih apologized for the delay. It was not without difficulty that they found a boat, but they had to promise high terms for it. It does not matter, said Jules. Can we go to sea this evening? No, said Salih. The crew would not be complete until too late. Then we start at daybreak. Agreed. I will come for you to the caravan Sarai at its salih, and we will go out with the tide. And if the breeze lasts, it will make a good course of it, said Jurghamane. A good course, indeed, for the wind was blowing from the west, and it was in the east that Captain Antefer had to look for his island. End of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of Captain Antefer by Jules Verne. This Libervox recording is in the public domain. Recorded by Joe De Noia, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 15. In the morning, before the gulf had been gilded by the sun's first rays, Salih knocked at the door of the rooms in the caravan Sarai. Captain Antefer, who had not slept an hour, was on foot in a moment, and Jules was with him almost immediately. The boat is ready, announced Salih. We follow you, said Jules. And the bargeman exclaimed Antefer. You see, he sleeps like a porpoise between two waters. I will go and give him a shake that will wake him. And Alfie went to the resting place of the said porpoise, who was snoring with both hands closed. But the shake from that vigorous arm soon opened his hands and his eyes also. Meanwhile, Jules, as had been agreed, went to inform the Notary and Nazim. They were both ready, Nazim having some difficulty in restraining his impatience, but in Omar, very pale and very unsteady on his feet. When Salih saw the two Egyptians appear on the scene, he could not restrain a movement of surprise, which did not escape the young captain. And was not this astonishment justified? Here were these people of such different nationalities, not only knowing each other, but going to embark together for an exploration of the gulf? Surely that was enough to provoke the detective's surprise. Do these two strangers intend to come with you, he asked Jules. Yes, replied Jules with some embarrassment. They were traveling companions. We were on the same steamer from Suez to Muscat. And you were acquainted with them? Certainly, that they had been kept apart from us due to my uncle being in such a bad temper. Evidently, Jules was making matters worse by his explanations. After all, he was not obliged to say anything to Salih. The Egyptians came because he chose that they should come. Salih said no more, although the matters seemed more mysterious than ever, but he decided to keep as close a watch on the Egyptians as on the Frenchmen. Captain Antefer now appeared, towing along the bargemen, like a tug of bringing out a merchantman. And we might continue the metaphor by describing him as a merchantman just beginning to set sail, for he was still half asleep. We need scarcely say that Antefer would take no notice of Ben Omar or Nazim. He hurried along, with Salih get his side, the others following him, toward the harbour. At the end of the jetty lay a perm, a two-masted vessel, more bow and stern, her mainsail in the brails. All that was wanted was to set it, ease away the sheet and the mizzen sheet, and be off to sea. This perm, the Berbera, had a crew of twenty men, a much more numerous crew than was required to handle a vessel of fifty tons. Jewel noticed this, but took care to say nothing. And he soon noticed that of these twenty men, only half appeared to be sailors. In fact, these were so hard police. They embarked under Salih's orders. Under such circumstances no man of sense would have given half a crown for the four millions of camel-leaks like a tea. That is, if he found them on the island. Three of the passengers jumped on board the Berbera with the agility of sailors. But to tell the truth, the perm gave a sensible list of port under the weight of the bargemen. There would have been some difficulty in getting the notary on board, for his heart failed him, and Nazim had to catch him around the body and hoist him in. As soon as the rolling began, Ben Omar fled to the house in the stern, and there began to weep and grow. The instruments were embarked with many precautions, particularly the chronometer which tried to be carried in the handkerchief, of which he held the four corners. The captain of the perm, an old, rough-looking Arab, slackened off the hausers, set sail, and at Jewel's orders, interpreted by Salih, headed off to the northeast. They were now on a direct road to the island, with the wind in the west they ought to be there in twenty-four hours. But nature delights in troubling men. The breeze was favorable, but overhead the clouds were driving across the sky. Something else was required than to run to the northeastward. The island had to be reached, and to do this, the two observations of latitude and longitude were necessary, the first in the forenoon, the second when the sun passed the meridian. To take the altitude, the solar disk must deign to show itself, and on this occasion, the capricious luminary obstinately refused to appear. Captain Antiver strode up and down the deck of the Berbera in a desperate state of feverish agitation, watching the sky much more than he did the sea. It was not an island he was looking for on the horizon, but the sun amid the mists of the east. Seated near the taff rail, the bargeman shook his head in token of disappointment. Jewel, leaning on the right of him, betrayed his disgust by a significant pout. Delays, still delays. But this journey never end. And hundreds and hundreds of leagues away in a little house at St. Molo, they thought he could seize dear Enogate, expecting a letter which could not yet have reached her. But suppose the sun does not appear as the bargeman. It will be impossible for me to do anything, said Jewel. But if there is no sun, can I you calculate our position by the moon and stars? Of course, but the moon is new, and as to the stars, I'm afraid that the night will be as cloudy as the day. And besides, there are rather complicated observations and not easily made in the lively vessel like this perm. The wind began to freshen, large reeds of cloud accumulated in the west as the mists have been vomited forth from some inexhaustible volcano. The bargeman found matters rather dull. He clasped on his knees, the chronometer confided to his charge, while Jewel waited in vain to use the sexton he held in his hand. And in the bow of the perm were heard in articulate cries and incessant objugations. These were due to Captain Antefer, who varied the proceedings by actually shaking his fist at the sun, as if that could do any good. The sun, however, did appear. Now and then a ray would shoot between through a rift in the clouds. But the rift closed almost instantly, and there was no means of keeping the sun long enough in view to obtain its altitude. Jewel tried again and again, but the sexton fell back without being used. The Arabs are not very familiar with the use of nautical instruments. The men in the perm could not make out what the young captain was trying at. Selik, who was rather better educated than the others, did not trouble himself as much as he might about the importance Jewel evidently attached to this observation of the sun. Everyone considered the passengers were much disturbed. Antefer strode about like the maniac he threatened to become. When Tregomand and Jewel invited him to breakfast, he abruptly refused. And, contenting himself with a piece of bread, went to the main mast and forbade anybody to speak to him. The afternoon brought no change in the state of the atmosphere. To leeward, the clouds remained backed up. The sea was rough and seemed to smell something, as sailors say. What it smelled was a storm. One of those southwest storms would so often devastate the Gulf of Oman. The storm swooped fiercely down in the Berbera. With her sails reefed down, she could not keep her course. Her freeboard was low, and the huge waves threatened to swamp her every minute. There was only one thing to do. Run to the northeast. Jewel noticed, as Antefer might have done had he been paying attention to what went on, that the captain of the perm handled her carefully and skillfully. His crew displayed the coolness and courage of tried sailors. It was not the first time that these brave fellows were struggling against a storm in the Gulf, but it was only part of the crew who seemed to be accustomed to these furious tempests. The rests were extended on the deck and showed themselves very uncomfortable with the behavior of the perm. Evidently, these men had never been to sea before. The idea occurred to Jewel that the police were following his uncle. That Salik, perhaps, decidedly matters look bad for the legatee of Kamalikpasha. So could not be otherwise than furious with his bad weather. If the storm lasted some days, no observation would be possible, and how could he determine the position of the island? Finding it useless to remain on deck, he took refuge in the cabin, where Bent Omar was being rolled from side to side like a cask, which had broken its seasons. After a refusal from Captain Antifur, whom they had asked to come with him, Jewel and the bargemen resolved to abandon the foot of the mast where they were sheltered by the tarpaulin and went to lie down on the cruise benches. Our expedition seems to be turning out badly, murmured Tregamine. That is my opinion, said Jewel. Let us hope that the weather will improve tomorrow and that we can get an altitude. Let us hope so. And he did not add that it was not only the state of the atmosphere he was anxious about. The sun would shine some day, even on the Gulf of Oman. They would find the island if it existed. But how about these suspicious fellows on board the Barbera? The night was dark and misty, and a little vessel was in great danger. Not so much from her buoyancy, which kept her rising to the waves and escaping their foaming crests, as from the sudden burst of wind, which would often have capsized her had it not been for the seeming likeability of her old captain. After midnight, the wind began to moderate, owing to a persistent fall of rain. Perhaps a change of weather was preparing for the morning. No, but when the day returned, although the clouds were not as stormy as before, and the atmosphere was not disturbed by violent squalls, the sky was nonetheless veiled with vapor. To the abundant showers of the night succeeded the fine rain of low clouds, which, having no time to form itself into large drops, pours down in sheets of mist. When Jewel arrived on deck, he could not restrain the gesture of disappointment, but the sky in this state and observation was hopeless. Where could the perm be now, after the changes of course and the uncertainties as to the direction in which they have been subjected during the night? The captain knew the Gulf of Oman well, but where he was, he could not tell. There was no land in sight. Had they passed the island? Not unlikely, and it might be that the Barbera had been driven eastwards much further than was desirable. Antifor had left the starpallan and posted himself in the bow. How he fumed again and gesticulated when he had looked around the horizon. But he had not said a word to his nephew and remained standing near the starboard cathead. But if Jewel took care to say nothing to his uncle, he had to submit to several questions from Salik, to which he can only reply evasively. The interpreter approaching him said, the day promises badly, sir. Very badly. You cannot use your instrument for looking at the sun? I'm afraid not. What will you do then? I'll wait. I would remind you that the Perm only carries provisions for three days, and if the bad weather continues, we shall have to return to Sohar. Exactly. In that case, will you give up your project of exploring the Gulf of Oman? Probably, or at least we'll put it off until a better season. Will you wait at Sohar? That's Sohar or a Muscat. It does not matter at which. The young captain maintained a well-justified reserve, now that he suspected Salik, who failed to obtain the information he wanted. The bargeman appeared on deck, almost at the same time as Oak. One made a pout of disappointment. The other, a gesture of anger, had seen the mists that formed the horizon two or three cable lengths from the barbara. Nothing moving, asked Tragomane, shaking Jewel's hand. Nothing. And our friend? He's over there, forward. Fear is not taking a head or overboard, murmured Tragomane, and it was always his fear that Antiphar would end in this way. The morning passed under such conditions as these. The sextant remained in its box as useless as if it had been a lady's necklace in its case. Not a solar ray pierced the thick curtain of mist. At noon, the chronometer, which Tragomane had brought up, for conscious sake, could not fix the longitude by showing the difference of time. The afternoon was just as unfavorable, and although an account was kept of the course, the whereabouts of the barbara were but imperfectly known. That this was so appeared from a remark made by the captain of the perm to Selik, that if the weather did not change in the morning, he would steer westward for the land. Where would he meet with it? At Sohar, at Muscat, or further to the north, toward the Straits of Ormuz, or further south, near Razzal had? Selik thought it was his duty to let Jewel know the captain's intentions. Be it so, said Jewel, and that was his only reply. Nothing occurred up to nightfall when the sun sank below the mists in the west, not a ray pierced them. But the rain gradually became lighter until it was as fine as spin drift. This was probably an indication for some change in the weather. The wind went down until it became but gentle, intermittent puffs. During these intervinces, the bargeman, wetting his hand and exposing it to the air, thought he felt a light breeze rising in the east. Ah, said he, if I was only on the Charmate Amelie between the delightful banks of the Rance, I should know what to do. But the Charmate Amelie had been sold as firewood years before, and it was not between the delightful banks of the Rance that the perm was sailing. Jewel made the same observation as Tregomene. Besides, it seemed to him as though when the sun sank below the horizon, it shot up one ray through the clouds as if through a crack in the door. Probably Antifa had noticed this ray, for his eye brightened, and replied to the solar ray by a ray of fury. The night came, and at supper the provisions were served sparingly. It was reported that only enough remained for 24 hours, hence the necessity of regaining the land next day, or at least making sure that the barbara was not very far away from it. But the night was calm, the sea rapidly grew smoother as generally happens in narrow gulfs. Gradually the wind hauled to the east, and the perm had to be put on the starboard tack. But owing to the uncertainty as to the vessel's position, the captain, at Jewel's advice, decided to lay too until daylight. By three o'clock in the morning, the sky, completely cleared of the mist overhead, became brilliant with its last constellations. Everything promised a good observation. The sun rose from the horizon in full splendor, and Tregomane politely took off his hat to it by way of salute. It can easily be imagined what a pleasant change this meant for all. With what in patience all, passengers and sailors waited for the hour when the observation would be made. The Arabs now knew that the Europeans had the means of determining the ship's position exactly, although no land was in sight. And they were anxious to know if the probera was still in the gulf, where it had been driven past Cape Razulhad. The sun rose on a sky of admirable clearness. Nothing to fear, not a cloud to veil it, when the young captain judged the moment had come to obtain them ready at all height. A little before noon, Jewel made his preparations. Antiver placed himself by his side, his lips closed, his eyes burning without saying a word. The bargeman stood on the right, nodding his big red head. Saoub was behind, Salik was to the left, ready to follow the details of the operation. Jewel, quite equal to the occasion, with his legs firmly apart, seized the sextant in his left hand and directed the glass toward the horizon. The perm rose gently to the undulations of a gentle swell. As soon as the altitude was taken, it is done, said Jewel. And reading the figures on the graduated limb, he descended to the cabin to make his calculations. Twenty minutes afterwards, he returned to the deck and reported the result of his observation. The perm was in latitude 25 degrees, two minutes north. She was consequently three minutes further to the south than the latitude of the island. To complete the operation, it was necessary to measure the horary angle. Never had the hours appeared longer to Captain Antiver, to Jewel, to the bargeman, to Saoub. It seemed as though the much desired moment would never come. Meanwhile, the berbera was given a more southerly course at Jewel's request. At half past two, the young sailor took a series of altitudes, while the bargeman noted the time of the chronometer. The calculations gave the longitude at 54 degrees, 28 minutes. The perm was a minute too far to the east for the long sought island. Almost immediately, there was a shout. One of the arrows pointing to a blackish mound about two miles to the west. My eyelid exclaimed Antiver. And it could only be the eyelid, for there was no other land in sight. And Antiver began to twitch and jump as if he had seen Vitus's dance, so the Tregomane had to interfere and hold him in his powerful arms. Immediately, the perm was steered straight for the island. The slight breeze from the east took her there in half an hour. Recording the distance run since the observation, Jewel satisfied himself with the island agreed with the position given by Kamalik Pasha. The latitude bequeathed by Thomas Antiver to his son was 24 degrees, 59 minutes north. The longitude brought to St. Mala by Ben Omar was 54 degrees, 57 minutes east. And as far as the eye could range, there was no other land in sight. End of chapter 15. Chapter 16 of Captain Antiver by Jewelsverne This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Joe DeNoya, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 16. There it was then, this island, which Antiver valued at four millions or more. And he would not have taken six pence off, even if the Rothschilds had proposed to buy it of him. To look at it was but a naked, barren mass, without verger, without culture. A rocky heap, oblong in form, and about 2,000 yards in circumference. Its shore was capriciously indented. Here capes, their creeks, and no great depth. Nevertheless, the perm found shelter in one of the creeks, which opened to the west when we sheltered from the wind. The water was very clear. The bottom could be seen 20 feet down, a floor of sand strewn with submarine plants. When the berbera was moored, the very gentle undulation of the surge hardly moved her. But little as it was, it was too much for the notary to wish to remain a minute more on board. He dragged himself along the deck, he had gained the bulwarks, and was just about to jump ashore when Captain Antiver seized him by the shoulder and roared at a voice of thunder. Stop there, Mr. Ben Omar. I go first, if you please. And whether he liked it or not, he had to wait until the intractable captain had taken possession of his island, which he did by forcibly impressing on the sand the soul of the sea boots. Ben Omar was then allowed to join him, and what a long sigh of satisfaction he gave when he felt the ground firm once more. Tregomane, Jewel, and Soog were soon at his side. All this time Sleeke was looking about him, wondering what the strangers were going to do on this island. Why such a long voyage? Why so much expense and fatigue? To make out the position of this heap of rocks could hardly be the reason, unless these people were fools. And although Antiver seemed somewhat of a madman, Jewel and the bargemen were evidently in the full enjoyment of their reason, and yet they were assisting in his exploration. And then the two Egyptians mixed up in such an adventure. Sleeke had more reason than ever for suspecting the proceedings of these strangers, and he was preparing to leave the vessel and follow him onto the island when Antiver made a sign that was understood by Jewel who said to Sleeke, there's no need for you to come with us. We have no need of an interpreter here. Ben Omar speaks French as if he were a native of France. It is well, was Sleeke's reply. Annoyed though he was, the detective did not enter into any discussion on the point. He'd enter Captain Antiver's service, and it was his business to obey orders. And this he resigned himself to, resolving to intervene with his men if, on a return from their exploration, the strangers brought anything on board the perm with them. It was about half past three in the afternoon. There was plenty of time to take possession of the three casks, if they were in the indicated place, which Antiver did not doubt. It was agreed that the Barbera should remain in this creek. At the same time, the captain threw Sleeke and formed Jewel that he could not stay more than six hours. The provisions were nearly exhausted. It was urgent to take advantage of the east of the winds so as to reach Sohar at Daybreak. Antiver made no objection. A few hours would be sufficient for him to bring his operation to a close. What had he to do? Not even to search over this very small island yard by yard. According to the letter, the precise spot where the treasure was deposited was on one of the suddenly promontories at the base of a rock, recognizable by the monogram of the double K. The pickaxe would soon reveal the three barrels that he could roll on board the perm. He had arranged to work without witnesses, save the indispensable Ben Omar, whose presence was imposed upon him and his clerk Nazim. As the crew of the Barbera would have nothing to be anxious about as to what the barrels contained, the return to Muscat by caravan was the only thing that presented any difficulty. But that could be dealt with later on. Captain Antiver, Trigamane, and Jewel in one group, and Ben Omar and Nazim in another, be had declined the slopes of the island whose mean altitude measured 150 feet above the level of the sea. A few flocks of sea ducks flew off at their approach, quacking out their protest against the intruders who were violating their home. Probably no human being had set foot on the islands as the visit of Kamalik Basha. Antiver carried his pickaxe on his shoulder. He would not give it up to anyone. The bargeman carried the mattock. Jewel indicated the course, compass in hand. The notary had some difficulty in keeping in front of Saouk. His legs still shook, although he no longer had the perms deck under his feet. But we need not be astonished at finding that he had recovered his intelligence, forgotten the trials of the voyage, and thought not of the return. The ground was pebbly, its surface was not easy walking. In working around some of the hillocks that were difficult to cross, the center of the island was reached. When the group had attained the culminating point, they sighted the perm with their flag fluttering in the breeze. From this point, the outline of the island was easily visible. Here and there were a few promontories, and among them was the cape with the millions in it. There could be no mistake, for the wheel indicated that it ran southwards. Jewel recognized it immediately by the aid of the compass. It was a long, barren tongue beaten by the light foam of the surface. And once more the thought occurred to the young captain that the riches buried under the rocks were about to rise as an insurmountable obstacle between his betrothed and himself. Never would they triumph over their uncle's obscenity, and Envy, a cruel Envy which however he overcame, tempted him to send his companions astray. The bargemen was an agony between two opposing feelings, the fear that Jewel and Enigate would never be married, in the field that his friend Antipher would go mad if he did not lay hands on the legacy of Camelink Pasha. And in a sort of frenzy, he struck the ground so violently with his matic that splinters of rock came to fly about him. Hello, bargemen exclaiming Antipher, what fly is biting you? None, none, replied Dragomane. Then keep your pickings for the right place if you please. I will keep them, my friend. Then the group went southwards towards the promontory, which was not six hundred yards away. Antipher, Ben Omar and Soog, now in front, hurried along attracted as by a magnet, the magnet of gold, all powerful among men. They panted as they went. They seemed to smell the treasure at a distance. They breezed it in and breezed it out. They were filled with the atmosphere of millions, and would fall asphyxiated if that atmosphere left them. In ten minutes they had reached the point which ran out into the sea, and it was at its end that Camelink had marked the rock with a double K. Antipher's excitement was such that he fainted. If Dragomane had not called him in his arms, he would have fallen in the heat. The only signs of life were a few spesimonyx starts. Uncle, Uncle cried Jewel. My friend cried the bargeman. Soog's expression, no one could mistake. It said as clearly as possible, made his Christian dog die, and I shall again become the sole heir of Camelink Pasha. Ben Omar's physiognomy appeared to say just the contrary. If this man dies, and he alone knows where the treasure is, away goes my commission. But the accident had no such sorrowful result. By the bargeman's vigorous rubbing, Antipher regained consciousness, and seized hold of the pickaxe he had dropped. And then the explanation began at the beginning of the promontory. There was a narrow causeway sufficiently raised for the high tide not to cover it, even during southwest winds. It would have been difficult to have found a better place in which to bury the millions. To recognize the place was not difficult, providing that the storms of the Gulf of Oman had not in a quarter of a century weathered away the monogram. Antipher would have searched all over this promontory if necessary. He would throw over the rocks one after the other and spend weeks, even months at his task. He would let the perm go back to Sahar for provisions. He would not abandon the islet until he had torn from it the riches of which he was the legitimate possessor. And Soog was of the same opinion. And now they were all at work, searching, forging under the clumps of algae between the interstices of the rocks coated with seaweed. Antipher tapped about with his pickaxe on the loose stones. The bargeman attacked them with his matic. Ben Omar crawled on all fours in a crab among a shingle. The others, Jewel and Soog, were quite as busy. Not a word was spoken. The operation was conducted in silence. It could not have been more silent if it had been a funeral ceremony. And was it not a cemetery, this islet lost in the Gulf? What was it not a tomb they were seeking? A tomb from which they longed to disinter the millions of the Egyptian. In half an hour, they found nothing. But they did not despair. That they were on Camelice Island and as barrels were buried on the promontory, they had no doubt. The sun blazed down on them. Sweat poured down their faces. They knew no feeling of fatigue. They worked with the archer of ants in an anthill. All, even the bargeman in the grip of the demon of greed, all but Jewel. At last, a shout of joy, or rather the roar of a wild beast, suddenly resounded. It was Captain Antipher who had buttered it. Up right, with his hat off, his hand stretched out, he pointed to a rock rising like a stella. There, there he shouted. And if he had prostrated himself before the stella, like a transtaverian before the niche of a Madonna, not one of his companions would have been surprised. It was soon joined by them in common adoration. Jewel and the bargeman, Saouk and Ben Omar gathered round Antipher who had just knelt down. They knelt near him. What was there on this rock? There was what the eye could see and the hands could touch. There was the famous monogram of Camelike Pasha, the double K, rather eaten away at its edges, but still visible. There, there repeated Captain Antipher. And he pointed to the base of the rock to the place where the treasure buried 32 years ago slipped in its coffer of stone. Immediately the pick came down on the rock and the splinters flew. Ben Trigamade's maddock knocked off chips of rock and chips of concrete. The hole began to get bigger to deepen. Chests panted. Hearts beat ready to break. An expectation of the last blow which would cause the millions to burst like a spring from the entrails of the ground. And still they dug, but the barrels did not appear. Evidently Camelike had dug a very deep trench. He was not wrong, after all, and what did it matter if it took a little time and a little fatigue to unearth them? Suddenly a metallic sound was heard. Doubtless the pickaxe had encountered some sonorous object. Antipher knelt over the hole. His head disappeared in it while his hands dug into it greedily. He rose. He held his hand in a metal box, not above four inches in cube. They all looked at him, unable to hide their feelings that they had been deceived, and doubtless Trigamade expressed the thoughts of all when he exclaimed, if there are four millions in that, may the silence go suffer any, Captain Antipher. And again he felt about in the excavation, picking at the last fragments of rock, seeking to meet with the casks. Labor in vain. There was nothing here, nothing but the iron box on the side of which there stood in relief, the double K of the Egyptian. Had then Captain Antipher undergone such fatigues for nothing? Had to come all this way to be a sport of a mis-tificator? Jewel would have smiled if his uncles' face had not frightened him. His eyes were as those of a madman. His mouth was contracted in a horrible grin, in articulate sounds, a skeet from his throat. Trigamade declared afterwards that at this moment he had expected to see him fall stone dead. Suddenly Antipher rose. He seized his pickaxe, brandished it, and in the frightful access of rage, struck a violent blow which shattered the box. A paper fell out of it. It was a piece of parchment, yellow with age, and which were a few lines written in French, and still legible. Antipher seized this paper, forgetting that Ben Omar and Salouk might hear and learn from him a secret it was his interest to keep. He began to read it in a trembling voice, the first lines. This document contains the longitude of his second island, which Thomas Antipher, or, in default, his direct air, is to bring to the knowledge of the banker Zambuco, residing at Antipher stopped his mouth by putting his fist into it. Salouk was sufficiently master of himself to let nothing appear of what he had just ascertained. A few words more, and we have learned what was the longitude of the second island, of which Zambuco had the latitude, but at the same time where the banker lived. The notary, no less disappointed, stood there, his lips open, his tongue hanging out, like a dog dying of thirst, just dragged from his saucer. But a moment after that sentence had been cut off short by the fist in the mouth. Ben Omar, who had a right to know Kamalik's intentions, rose and asked, Well, this banker Zambuco, where does he live? At home, replied Captain Antipher. Unfolding the paper, he thrust it into his pocket, leaving Ben Omar to stretch his despairing hands to the sky. The treasure was not on this island in the Gulf of Oman. The only object of the journey was to invite Captain Antipher to put himself in communication with a fresh personage, the banker Zambuco. Was this personage a second legatee whom Kamalik desired to reward for services rendered? Was he going to share the treasure with Captain Antipher? It looked like it. Once the logical consequence to that instead of four millions, only two would go into the pocket of Captain Antipher. Jewel bowed his head at the thought that this was still too much to make his uncle modify his opinion relative to his marriage with his dear Antigate. And, in fact, Jewel had to vie in what was passing in Antipher's mind. For what Antipher remarked by way of conclusion was, Well, Antigate will have to marry a duke instead of a prince, and Jewel will have to marry a duchess instead of a princess. End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 of Captain Antipher by Jewels Verne This Libervox recording is in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit Libervox.org. Recording by Joe De Noia, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 17 Dreary had been the house of St. Molo since Captain Antipher had left it, and the days and nights had been spent in anxiety by mother and daughter. Jewel's empty room made all the house empty. At least, so thought Enigate. And then her uncle was not there, nor was her friend Trigamene. It was the 29th of April. Two months had elapsed since the Steersmen had left with three travelers on their adventurous campaign and quested the treasure. How had the voyage ended? Where were they then? Had they attained their object? Mother. Mother said the girl. They will never come back again. Yes, my child, they will. Have confidence. They will come back, the old Britain would answer. But all the same, they would have done better not to have left us. Yes, remembered Enigate, and just as I was going to be his wife. Captain Antipher's departure had created an immense sensation in the town. People had been so accustomed to see him strolling, pipe in mouth, all along the streets and on the ramparts. And then there was Gildus Trigamene walking at his side, but just a little behind him, his legs bowed, his loose coat always increases at the armpits, his face always placid and beaming with kindness. And Jewel, the young captain, whose native town was as proud of him as he was of Enigate. Where had the three gone to? No one had any idea. They all knew that the Steersmen had taken them to Port Said, but only Enigate and Nanon were aware that they were going down the Red Sea to venture into the northern boundaries of the Indian Ocean. Antipher had wisely kept his secret, for he did not want Ben Omar to get wind of the position of the famous island. But if he had not let them know where he had gone, he had been too loquacious, too exuberant, too communicative with regard to his plans. At St. Malo, as at St. Cervan and Dinard, everybody knew the story of Camelik Pasha, and how Thomas Antipher had received a letter, and how the messenger had arrived, and how the longitude and latitude had given the position of an island containing millions of treasure. Millions of millions, according to those who knew best. With what impatience they did not await the news of the discovery, and the return of the captain, transformed into a nabob, bringing into the port a cargo of diamonds and precious stones. Enigate did not ask for so much as this. If her betrothed, her uncle, her friend, returned even with empty pockets, she would be satisfied. She would give thanks to God, and her deep distress would change into gladness. She had not been without hearing from Jewell. A first letter, dated from Suez, had informed her of the details of the voyage since their separation, and mentioned how nervous her uncle was becoming, and how Ben Omar and his clerk had been welcomed. A second letter, dated from Muscat, narrated the incidents of the voyage across the Indian Ocean to the capital of the Sultanate, and told her in what state of excitement, bordering on madness, Captain Antefer then was, and how they had decided to push on to so hard. And again and again did she read these letters, which did not confine themselves to relating the impressions of the voyage, or reporting her uncle's excited state, but expressed all the annoyance of her betrothed at being separated from her on the eve of their marriage, at being so far away from her. And told of his hope of an early return, to gain her uncle's consent, even if they came back with their hands full of millions. Over and over again did the non and andogate read these letters, to which they could not reply, that consolation being denied them, and indulged in all the comments they suggested. They counted on their fingers the days during which the absent ones would have to remain in those distant seas. They crossed out day after day on the almanac hanging on the wall. And after the receipt of the second letter, they abandoned themselves to the hope that the second half of the voyage would be devoted to the return. A third letter arrived on the 29th of April, about two months after Jewel's departure. Seeing that bore the postmark of Tunis, andogate fell her heart beat with happiness. The travelers then had left Muscat. They returned to European seas. They were nearing France. In three days they might be at Marseille. Three days at the outside, and to reach St. Malo by express, 26 hours. Mother and daughter receded to one of the rooms on the ground floor, after shutting the door on the postman. No one could disturb them. They could give free vent to their feelings. As soon as they had wiped away the tears that rose in their eyes, andogate opened the envelope, drew forth the letter, and read in a loud voice, pausing between each sentence for it to be understood, as follows. La Coulee, Regency of Tunis, 22nd April, 1862 My dear andogate, I embrace you and your mother first of all, then for yourself, then for myself. But we are far away from one another, and when this interminable voyage will end, I know not. I've already written twice to you, and you should have had my letters. This is the third, more important than the others. In the first place, because it will tell you that the treasure business has had an unexpected change come over it, much to my uncle's annoyance. Andogate uttered a little cry of joy, and, clapping her hands, exclaimed, They have found nothing, mother, and I shall not have to marry a prince. Go on, replied Inon. Andogate finished the sentence when she had interrupted. And also because I am sorry to have to tell you that we are obliged to continue our search much further away. The letter shook between Andogate's fingers. Search farther away, she murmured. They are not coming back, mother. They are not coming back. Courage, my daughter, and go on, said Inon. Andogate, with her lovely eyes full of tears, resumed the reading of the letter. Jewel briefly related what had happened on the island of the Gulf of Le Mans, how instead of the treasure, they found a document, and this document, the mention of a new longitude. Then Jewel added, Judge, my dear Andogate, of my uncle's disappointment, of the rage he was in, and also of my disgust. Not that we have not taken possession of the treasure, but that our departure from St. Mala was further delayed. I thought my heart would have broken. Andogate had much trouble in restraining the beatings of her own, and by her own feelings understood what Jewel had had to suffer. Poor Jewel, she murmured. And poor you, murmured Andon. Go on. Andogate continued, in a voice changed by emotion. In fact, this confounded longitude Cambolik Pasha requested us to bring to the knowledge of a certain Zambuco, a banker at Tunis, who was in possession of a certain latitude. Evidently, it is in another island that the treasure has been buried. Probably, the Pasha had also contracted a debt of gratitude toward this personage, who had formally helped him, as had grandfather Antipher. The legacy has to be shared between two legates, which reduces the share of each to a half. And on this account arose the extravagant anger you may imagine. Not four millions, but two. Well, I shall be only too pleased of those to whom the generous Egyptian owed debts of gratitude become so numerous. That so little comes to uncle, that he would have nothing to say against our marriage. Andogate continued. When our uncle read a document, he was so astounded that the figures of the new longitude, and the address of him with whom he had to communicate for discovering the position of the island, almost escaped him. Fortunately, he restrained himself in time. Our friend, Tregomane, with whom I often spoke about you, my dear Andogate, accomplished a most remarkable grimace when he learned that he had to go in search of a second island. My poor jewel, he said. Is this Pasha Pasha having a lark with us? Is he going to send us to the world's end? Will it be at the world's end? That is what we want to know at the moment of writing. In fact, if our uncle has kept from us the information contained in the document, it is because he mistrusts Ben Omar. Ever since his rascal endeavored to get the secret out of him at St. Malo, he has held him in suspicion. Perhaps he has not been wrong. For as far as I am concerned, his clerk, Nazim, seems to be as doubtful. I did not like this Nazim. Neither does Tregomane. I can assure you that our notary, Kalluk, would not have him in his office. I am convinced that if he or Ben Omar knew the address of the Sambuco, they would endeavor to be before us. But uncle has not breathed a word. Ben Omar and Nazim did not even know that we were going to Tunis, and in leaving Muscat, we were asking where the Pasha's humor was going to send us next. Enoge stopped for a moment. Jolidn related to the incidents which had marked the return, the departure from the island, the obvious disappointment of the interpreter, Selik, at finding the stranger's return with empty hands, confirming him in his opinion that there was something more in the wind than a mere tourist trip. Then the wearisome return by caravan to Muscat, and waiting there during two days for the mailboat from Bombay. And, continued Jolidn, if I did not write to you a second time from Muscat, it was because I hoped to have something to tell you. But all I can say even now is that we were returning to Suez, and thence go not to Tunis. Enoge stopped reading and looked at Nanan, who shook her head and muttered. It is to be hoped that they are not going to the end of the world. There is everything to be afraid of amongst these infidels. The excellent woman spoke of these Orientals as they spoke of them in the days of the Crusades. When the scruples of the pious Britain, the millions coming from such a source had an evil odor. But let her express such ideas before Captain Antefer. Jolidn gave an account of the voyage from Muscat to Suez, the crossing of the Indian Ocean and the Red Sea. Ben Omar, sick beyond all recognition. So much the better, said Nanan. And during the whole voyage Antefer had not said a word. I do not know, dear Enoge, what will happen if Uncle is deceived in his hopes, or rather, I know too well. He will go mad. Who would have believed that of a man so wise in his conduct, so modest in his tastes? The prospect of being a millionaire, but how many heads would be able to resist it? Yes, we too, of course, that's because our life is centered in our hearts. From Suez we reached Port Said, where we had to wait for the departure of a trading steamer for Tunis, where lives this banker Zambuco, to whom Uncle has to communicate this exasperating document. But when the latitude of the one and the longitude of the other have determined the position of the new island, where are we to look for it? That is the question, and in my opinion, it is a serious one, for on it depends our return to France and you. Enoge let fall the letter, which her mother picked up. She could read no more. She saw the absent ones carried thousands of leagues away, exposed to great perils in terrible countries, perhaps never returning at all. And this cry escaped her. Oh, Uncle, Uncle, what misery you bring to those you love so much? Forgive him, my daughter replied in on, and pray God to protect him. There were a few minutes of silence, stirred which the women united in the same prayer. Then Enoge resumed. We left Port Said on the 16th of April. We were bound direct for Tunis. At first we kept near the Egyptian coast, and what a look Ben Omar gave us, as we sighted the harbor of Alexandria. I thought he would have gone ashore, and resigned all claim to his commission. But his clerk intervened, and in their language, of which we did not understand a word, he made him listen to reason. Somewhat roughly it seemed to me. It is clear that Ben Omar is in fear of his Nazim, and I am wondering if this Egyptian is really the man he says he is. He is so much like a bandit. Whoever he may be, I am going to keep a good watch on him. Leaving Alexandria behind, we made for Cape Bon, leaving to the south of the Gulf of Tripoli and Gaines. Then the wild slopes of the Tunisian Mountains appeared on the horizon, with the abandoned fortresses on their crests, and one or two Marlbouts between the curtains of Verger. In the evening of the 21st of April, we reached the roadstead of Tunis. The next day our vessel anchored before the moles of Dagole. My dear Anugate, if at Tunis I am nearer to you than I was in the Gulf of Oman, I am still very far away, and who knows when ill fortune may not take us further. It is true that it is quite as miserable whether we are five leaks away or five thousand. But do not despair, and remember that whatever may be the end of the voyage, it cannot be very long. I have written this letter as we came along, so as to be able to post it as soon as we land at Dagole. It will reach you in a few days. It will not tell you what I do not know, and what is so important for us to know, namely where we are going to. But Uncle himself does not know that, and it can only be determined by an interchange of communications with the banker, whose rest we have probably come to trouble. For when he hears of the enormous legacy, the half of which belongs to him, Zambuca will certainly form one of the party, and become probably as excited as Uncle is. As soon as I ascertain the situation of island number two, I will let you know. It is probable that a fourth letter will succeed the third at a few days interval. As for the present, it carries with it, for both you and your mother, Trigermane's kind regards and my love, and also Uncle's, although he seems to have lost all remembrance of St. Malo, and of the old house and of those who live in it. Dearest Anogate, I send you all my love, as I know you send me yours, although I cannot have a letter from you. Believe me for life, you're faithful and affectionate, Jewel Antefer. End of Chapter 17, Chapter 18 of Captain Antefer by Jewelsverne. This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. According by Joe DeNoya, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 18. When you arrive in the roadstead of Tunis, you're not at Tunis. To get there, you have to avail yourself of one of the local boats called Mohans, and land at Lagole. The port, in fact, is not a port at all in the sense that vessels of ordinary tonnage can come alongside the wars, for only small coasters and fishing boats can do that. Other ships, sailing in steam, have to remain outside an anchor, and though the hills may shelter them from the easterly winds, they are at the mercy of the squalls that come from the east and north. A harbor there is absolutely necessary, accessible for all ships, even ships of war, and this can be made either by enlarging that of Bezerta on the northern coast of the Regency, or by making a channel through Lake Bahira. And when Captain Antefer and his companions had reached Lagole, they were still not at Tunis. They had to go by the Rubetino Railway, belonging to an Italian company, which runs by the side of Lake Bahira, passing at the foot of the little hill of Carthage, on which arises the Chapel of St. Louis. When our travelers had left the Quay, they found a sort of town, through which ran a wide road with Governor's House, Catholic Church, cafes, private houses, in fact, everything European in character. They had to go as far as the palace on the shore, which the bay formally occupied during the batting season, to discover the first indication of Oriental color. But the Oriental color did not trouble Captain Antefer, nor did the legends of Regulus, Scipio, Caesar, Cato, Marius, or Hannibal. Did he even know the names of these great personages? He had heard of them, probably, as the good trigger made it heard of the glories of his native town, and that was enough for his self-esteem. Jewel alone could have abandoned himself to these historic souvenirs, if he had had not quite enough to think about in the present. It was with him, as I say in the Levant, it was of the absent-minded man. He's looking for his son whom he is carrying on his shoulders. What he was looking for was Enogate, for whom he was, to his annoyance, going further away. After passing through La Goulet, Captain Antefer, the Bargeman, and Jewel, bag in hand, they expected to renew the contents at Tunis, went to catch the first train at the station. Ben Omar and Nazim followed them at a distance. As Antefer had not opened his mouth, they knew nothing of this banker Zambuca, whom the Caprice of Camelik Pasha wished them to become acquainted with. Much to the disgust, not so much to the notary, would have the same commission providing he did not retire from the search, as of Saouk, who now had to deal with two legates instead of one. After waiting half an hour, the travelers took their seats in the train. They waited a few minutes at the station, once they could see the slope of the Carthage Hill, and the monastery, renowned for its archaeological museum, and at forty minutes, they reached Tunis. They went to the Hotel de France, in the European quarter, and took three rooms, rather bare of furniture, very lofty, and with mosquito curtains, round the beds. The restaurant on the ground floor would provide them with breakfast and dinner at whatever hour might be convenient to them, in a very comfortable room. But after all, it did not matter, as they were not going to stay there long. Captain Antefer did not give himself time to go up to his room. I will find you here when I come back, he said to his companions. Go, friend, said Tregomín, and carry your ship by boarding. It was his very boarding that Jules' uncle was anxious about. He had no intention of trying to cheat his colegate, as Ben Omar tried to cheat him. He was an honest man, and perfectly straightforward, notwithstanding his originality, and he had decided not to beat about the bush at all. He would go straight to the banker and say to him, here is what I bring you, but let's have what you have to offer in exchange, and off we go together. According to the document found on the island, the Zambuco must have been informed that a certain Antefer was going to bring him the longitude necessary for him to fix the position of an island in which the treasure was buried, and the banker would not be surprised at this visit. But Antefer had one fear, the fear that Zambuco did not speak French. If he knew English, Jules could act as interpreter. But if he knew neither of these languages, he would have to call in another interpreter, and then they would be at the mercy of a third party with regard to his secret worth four millions. On leaving the hotel, Captain Antefer, without saying where he was going, had asked for a guide, and he and his guide disappeared at the turning of one of the streets, which opened onto the Place de la Marine, as he does not want us, said the bargeman as he moved off. Let us go for a walk and begin by posting my letter, said Jules. And these two, after leaving the post office, which is next to the hotel, went down towards the Bob L. Bajar, so as to walk around the city by the crenelleted walls, which is two good leagues in length. A hundred yards from the hotel, Captain Antefer said to his guide and interpreter, you know Zambuco, the banker? Everybody knows him here. And he lives in the Lower Town, in the Maltese Quarter. That is where I want you to take me, as you wish, Excellency. In these Oriental countries, they call you Excellency as if it were Sir. Antefer hurried towards the Lower Town. Rest assured that it took up the slightest notice of the curiosities of the road. Here, one of those mosques that are in hundreds of tunas, which is dominated by their elegant minarets. There, some Roman or Saracen ruin. There, a picturesque square sheltered by the foliage of fig trees or palms. Then narrow streets with the houses looking into each other, rising, falling, bordered by gloomy shops where laces and drapery and odds and ends are heaped together anyhow. No, Antefer only thought of this visit imposed on him by Kamalik Pasha, and the reception he was about to have. He had little doubt of that. When you bring a man two millions of money, you need to have but little fear that you will not be well received. After a half hour's walk, the Maltese Quarter was reached. It was not the cleanest part of this town of 150,000 souls, which does not shine by excess of cleanliness, particularly in these old portions. At the end of a street, or rather a lane of this commercial quarter, the guide stopped before a house of mediocre appearance. Built on the model of all Tunisian habitations, it was a big square block with a terrace without external windows and a courtyard, one of those patios of Arab fashion from which the rooms were lighted. The aspect of this house did not give Captain Antefer the idea that its owner was swimming, as he expressed it, in opulence. And he thought that this was all the better for the success of his plans. Is this where Zimbucho the banker lives? This is his house. And is this his banking house? It is. Has he any other house? No, Excellency. Is he supposed to be rich? He is worth many millions. Phew! went Captain Antefer. And as greedy as he is rich, added the guide. Phew! went Captain Antefer. And thereupon he sent back the guide to the hotel. Wouldn't he hardly say this, and who could follow them, taking care not to be seen? Now he knew where Zimbucho lived. Could he get any advantage out of this banker? Was there an opportunity for arriving at an understanding with him in order to oust Captain Antefer? If he could bring about a disagreement between the colegates of Camelik Pasha, could he not use him for his own purpose? It was certainly unlucky that when they were on island number one, Antefer had not let slip the figures of the new longitude. If Seouk had known them, he might have got to tune his first and gained over the banker at a price, if not got the secret out of him for nothing. But then he remembered that it must be Antefer and no other who according to the document must take the longitude. Well, Seouk would stick to his program. He would execute it pitilessly, and when the Maltese and the Malouen were in possession of the legacy, he would rob them both. Antefer entered the banker's house and Seouk waited outside. The buildings on the left of the entrance served as the office. In the courtyard, there was no one. It seemed as abandoned as if the bank had closed that morning through cessation of payments. But rest assured, the Zimbucho was not the sort of banker to fail. It was a man of middle height, about 60 years old, thin and nervous. Bright, keen eyes with a shifty look in them, close shave in face, complexion like parchment, hair grisly and matted like a cap stuck onto his head, back slightly bowed, hands wrinkled, fingers long and hooked. Although he was not much of an observer, Antefer felt that this Zimbucho was not an attractive man, and said to himself that he would never have had much pleasure in his acquaintance. In fact, the banker was merely a sort of usurer, lending on pledges who also have been born a Jew, and who was of Maltese origin. Of these Maltese, there are from five to six thousand in Tunis. Zimbucho was reported to have amassed a large fortune in all the devious ways of banking, those which are practiced with bird lime on the fingers. Rich he was, and he was proud of it. But be it understood, you are never rich when you get no advantage from it. He was said to be many times a millionaire, and he was, notwithstanding the humble and miserable appearance of his house, which had misled Captain Antefer, showing a prestigious parsimony in all that concerned the necessities of existence. Was it then that he had no wants? Very few, and it took care not to increase them, thanks to his hoarding instincts. To fill up bags upon bags of money, and put his hand upon everything that represented any value whatever, he had made the sole business of his life. Hence the many millions in his coffers, lying there without his thinking it worthwhile to render them productive. It seemed unlikely, contradictory even, that such a man should have remained a bachelor. But if there must be old bachelors, is it not as well that it should be of this type? Zimbucho had never thought of marrying, and so much the better for his wife, as the wits of the Maltese quarter used to say. Brothers, cousins, relatives of all sort he had none, except one sister. The preceding generations of his family were united to him. He lived alone in his house, talking of his office, talking of his money chests, having in a service but an old Tunisian woman, who cost little in food or wages. This was the rival Antefer had to deal with, and it may well be asked what kind of service this unsympathetic personage had rendered Kamalik Pasha to deserve such a token of gratitude. It can be explained in a few words. When he was but 27 years old, he was living in Alexandria. There he carried on with indefatigable sagacity and perseverance, the varied occupations of a broker, securing his commissions from buyers and seller, acting for the would-be buyer before he sold it to him, and dealing in money, the most profitable of all trades known to human intelligence. It was in 1829, it will be remembered, that the idea occurred to Kamalik Pasha, who was then anxious for the safety of his fortune, coveted by his cousin Murad, and by the imperious Mohammed Ali, to realize his riches and take them to Syria, where they would be safer than in any town in Egypt. To carry out this operation, several agents were necessary. Those he applied to were all foreigners worthy of his confidence. They risked much, and at least their liberty in supporting the rich Egyptian against the vice-right. Young Zamboko was of the number. He did his work zealously and was rewarded handsomely. He made several voyages to Aleppo, and in fact contributed largely toward the realization of his client's fortune and his transport to a safe place. This was not without difficulties or perils, and after the departure of Kamalik Pasha, some of the agents he had employed, among them Zamboko, discovered by the suspicious police of Mohammed Ali, were imprisoned. For want of sufficient proof, they were released, but they had nonetheless been punished for their devotion. And as Thomas Infer had rendered Kamalik a service in 1799, when he picked him up half dead on the rocks of Jaffa, so 30 years afterwards, Zamboko had also required a right to the Pasha's gratitude. Kamalik did not forget, and his brief survey explains why, in 1842, Thomas Infer and Zamboko, one at St. Malo and the other at Tunis, had each received a letter informing them that one day they would have a share in a treasure worth four millions of pounds deposited in an island, each of them having the latitude what a longitude was to be sent to them in due time. If this information had produced the effect we know on Thomas Infer, on his son after him, it may be imagined that the effect was no less powerful on a personage like Zamboko. Of course, he said not a word about the letter to anyone. He showed up to figures of his latitude and one of the most secret drawers of his strong box, and ever afterwards, expected every minute to behold the appearance of the Infer announced in Kamalik Pasha's letter. In vain, he endeavored to learn the fate of the Egyptian. He had heard nothing of the captain of the Brigantine in 1834, nor of the taking to Cairo, nor of the imprisonment in the fortress for 18 years, nor of the death in 1852. It was now 1862. Twenty years had elapsed since 1842. Antifa had not appeared, and the longitude had not been added to the latitude. The position of the island remained unknown. Zamboko, however, had not lost confidence. That Kamalik Pasha's intention would be realized sooner or later, he did not doubt. In his opinion, the said Antifa was as safe to appear on the horizon of the Maltese quarter as a comet announced by the observatories appears in the sky. His only regret, a regret very natural with such a man, was that he had to share the legacy with another. But he could not alter any of the dispositions made by the grateful Egyptian. But the share of four millions appeared to him to be monstrous. That is why for years he had been heaping reflections on reflections, and imagining thousands of combinations, having for their object, the placing of the whole sum in his hands. Would he succeed? All that we could say is that he was well prepared to receive Antifa when he came with the promised longitude. It is needless to add that Zamboko, although he knew little about navigation, had ascertained why it was the union of the latitude and the longitude would give the position of a point on the earth's surface. Then he also fully understood that the two legates must be united, and if he could do nothing without Antifa, Antifa could do nothing without him. End of Chapter 18. Chapter 19 of Captain Antifa by Jules Verne This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Joe DeNoya, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 19 Can I see Zamboko the banker? Yes, if it is on business. It is on business. What name? Say a stranger. That would be enough. It was Captain Antifa who asked, and the replies were from a peevish old native, seated at the bottom of a narrow office, divided into two parts by a partition with a barred window. Antifa had thought it better not to give his name, as he was anxious to see the effect produced on the banker when he said to him point blank, I am Antifa, son of Thomas Antifa of St. Mello. A minute afterwards, he was introduced to the interior of a room without any curtains, the walls whitewashed, the ceiling black with lamp smoke, the only furniture a safe in one corner, a writing table in another, and a table in two stools. Before this table was seated the banker. The two legates of Camelik Pasha were face to face. Without rising, Zambuko adjusted with his finger and thumb, the large round spectacles resting on his nose, and only just lifting his head said, with an accent that would have done credit to any native of Languidok or Provence, to whom I find the honor of speaking. To Captain Antifa replied the personage, expecting that these three words would provoke a shout from Zambuko, a leap from the chair, and a brief reply, you at last! You at last! But the banker did not leap, nor did he shout. The expected reply did not come from his lips, but an attentive observer would have noticed a sudden gleam in his eyes which instantly were hid by the falling islands. I tell you that I am Captain Antifa. I heard you. Pierre-Servant Mello Antifa, son of Thomas Antifa of St. Mello, the Leth Valaine, Brittany, France. You have a letter of credit on me, asked the banker, without the slightest alteration in his voice. A letter of credit? Yes, replied Antifa, quite disconcerted with the coolness of his reception. A letter of credit for the amount of four millions. All right, hand it over, replied Zambuko, as indifferently as if it related to only a shilling or so. Antifa simply collapsed. What? For twenty years this phlegmatic banker had known that he was to have a share of this enormous treasure, the day a certain Antifa came to bring it to him, so to speak, and he did not even flinch before this messenger of Camelik Pasha. Not a sign of surprise, not a gleam of satisfaction. Was there a mistake in this document from island number one? Was it somebody else that was meant? Was this a man who had the latitude of island number two? Or was it somebody else? The disappointed cold-hearted he shuddered from head to foot. The blood rushed to his heart, and he barely turned his sink on to one of the stools. The banker, left the slightest effort to help him, looked at him through his spectacles with just the slightest suspicion of a smile at the corner of his mouth. And it seemed as though these words would have escaped him, if it had not been careful to restrain them. That sailor is not strong. Meaning, not difficult to manage. Antifa recovered himself, wiping his face with his pocket-hair chiff. He rose. You were really Zambuko, the banker, he asked, slapping his big hand on the table? Yes, the only one of the name in Tunis. And you were not expecting me? No. My arrival has not been announced to you? And how should it have been? By the letter of a certain Pasha. A Pasha? But I received hundreds of letters from Pasha's. Camelik Pasha of Cairo. I don't remember him. Zambuko's object was to get Antifa to give himself away completely, so that it would offer to sell a longitude without being told the latitude. At the name of Camelik, he looked as though the name was not quite unknown to him. He seemed to be trying to remember. Let me see, he said, adjusting his spectacles. Camelik Pasha of Cairo? Yes, replied Antifa, a sort of Egyptian Rothschild, who possessed an enormous fortune in gold, diamonds, and precious stones. Ah, I remember. And who informed you that half of his fortune would come to you? You are right, Mr. Antifa, and I'll have to have the letter somewhere. What? Somewhere? Do you not know where it is? Oh, nothing is lost here. I will find it. And at this reply, the attitude of Captain Antifa, the gesture of his two hands stretched out like claws, indicated pretty clearly that he would twist a banker's neck if the letter cannot be found. You see, Mr. Zambuco, he continued, endeavoring to control himself. Your coolness is embarrassing. You speak of this matter with an indifference. Phew, said the banker. Why? Why, phew, when it is about four millions of money. Zambuco's lips gave it the stainful pout. He seemed to think of a million as he might think of an orange skin. Ah, the brute. He must be a hundred times a millionaire, thought Captain Antifa. But here the banker turned the conversation on another track, with the object of learning what he did not yet know. The chain of events which had led to this visit. And so, in a doubting sort of way, he wiped his spectacles with the corner of his handkerchief and said, Do you really believe in this story of the treasure? Do I believe in it? I should think I did. And then he related how in 1799, his father had saved the posh's life. How in 1842, a mysterious letter had arrived at St. Malo, announcing the deposit of the treasure on an island that had to be searched for. How he, Antifa, had received from his dying father the secret known to him alone. How for twenty years he had waited for the messenger with the longitude. How Ben Omar had brought him the will, which enabled him to discover the island in the Gulf of Oman. How he and his nephew Jewel and his friend Tregormane, with Ben Omar and his clerk, had found the island off so hard. And how instead of the treasure, they had there found a box in which it was a document given the longitude of a second island which Antifa was to communicate to Zambuco, the banker at Tunis, who possessed the latitude, which would enable them to determine the position of this new island. However indifferent he might seem, the banker had listened to this recital with extreme attention. A slight trembling of his long fingers indicated his excitement. When Antifa, who was breathing with great gulps, had finished, the banker simply remarked, Yes, quite so. There seems to be no doubt as to the existence of this treasure. What object that came with Pasha and acting in this way. And indeed the object was not very clear. You might imagine, said Antifa, that, but first Mr. Zambuco, did you have any dealings with the Pasha? Did you ever render him any service? Certainly a very great service. And when? When he thought of realizing his fortune, he then lived in Cairo, where I then resided. Well then it is clear. He wished to associate in the discovery of the treasure the two persons to whom he desired to show his gratitude, you and me in the place of my father. And why no others suggested the banker. Ah, do not say that, exclaimed Antifa, bringing his fist down on the table. There are enough already, two or too many. Just so replied Zambuco, but one more explanation. Why does this Alexandrian notary accompany you in your search? A clause in the will gives him a commission on condition that he assist in person at the handing over of the legacy where it is taken out of the ground. And what is the commission? One percent. One percent? Ah, the rascal. The rascal, that is exactly the word for him exclaimed Antifa, and believe me, I have let him know it. On this point, the colegates were quite agreed. Now, said Antifa, that you know the whole story. There is no reason, I suppose, I wish to not be frank with one another. The banker remained impassable. I have got the new longitude found on island number one, continued Antifa, and you ought to have the latitude of island number two. Yes, replied Zambuco with a certain hesitation. Then why did you pretend? When I told you my name, that you do nothing about this story. Because I did not wish to give myself away to the first who came. You might be an intruder, Mr. Antifa, and I wish to be sure you are not. As you have the document which instructs you to put yourself in communication with me, I have it. Let me see it. One moment, Mr. Zambuco, give and take. You have camel-leaf posh's letter? I have. Well, the letter for the document. Let the exchange be made in order and reciprocally. Quite so, replied the banker, and rising, he walked to the safe, and turned over the papers and the drawers, with the deliberation that made Antifa furious. Why these inexplicable proceedings? Does Zambuco wish to imitate Ben Omar at St. Molo, and endeavor to get Antifa's secret out of him? Not so, for that was impossible with a man so resolved, not to part with the goods without cash down. But the banker had a plan. A plan long and carefully thought out, which, in the event of success, would retain camel-leaf's millions in his family. A plan that required, as an indispensable condition, that his colegatee was a widower or a bachelor. Clicking the lock of his safe, he turned around for a moment and asked in a voice that trembled a little. Are you a married man? No, Mr. Zambuco, and that is a social condition on which I congratulate myself morning and evening. The last part of the reply provoked a frown from the banker, who resumed the search among the papers. Had Zambuco a family then? No, his only relative was a sister we have mentioned. Talisman Zambuco lived very quietly at Malta on an allowance from her brother. She was then 47 years of age, and had never had an opportunity of being married. First, because her beauty, intelligence, and fortune left something to be desired. And secondly, because her brother had not found a husband for her in default of any suitor, putting an appearance on his own account. But Zambuco had made up his mind that his sister should marry some day. And whom? Why, this very antifer who had been expecting for 20 years, and who would do very well for a husband, provided that he was a widower or a bachelor. Once the marriage had taken place, the millions would remain in the family, and Talisman Zambuco would lose nothing by having waited. She was entirely dependent upon her brother, and any husband offered by him would be received by her with closed eyes. But would Antifer consent to close his and marry this ancient Maltese? The banker did not doubt that he would, for he thought that he was in a position to impose any conditions he pleased on his colegatee. Besides, sailors are not very difficult to manage. At least, he thought so. Ah, unhappy antifer, and what a galley you have embarked, and how much better would be a trip on the Rants, even on board the Charmate MLE, if she still existed. We now know the banker's game. Nothing could be simpler or better devised. He would only give up his latitude in exchange for Antifer's life, that is, his life in chains by indissoluble marriage with Talisman Zambuco. Before taking Camelik Pasha's letter out of the drawer, he seemed to think of something, and returned to sit down at the table. Antifer's eyes flashed as if in the thunderstorm. What are you waiting for, he asked. I was thinking about something, replied the banker. About what, if you please? Are you of opinion that in this matter, our rights are absolutely equal? Certainly they are. Well, I don't think so. And why? Because it was your father who rented the service to the Pasha, and not you. While it was I who, Antifer burst out. What? Mr. Zambuco, are you trying to play the fool with an old sailor? Are not my father's rights mine when I am his sole heir? Yes or no, will you obey the wishes of the testator? I will do as I choose, replied the banker, sharply and dryly. Antifer clutched the table to prevent himself from jumping up. You know you can do nothing without me, said the Maltese. Nor you without me, said Antifer. The discussion became heated. One was scarlet with fury. The other, paler than usual, were quite collected. Will you give me your latitude, asked Antifer furiously. Begin by giving me your longitude, replied the banker. Never. Very well. Here is my document word, Antifer, taking out his pocketbook. Keep it, I don't want it. You do not want it? Do you forget that it means four millions? Four millions, yes. That they will be lost if we don't find out the island where they were buried. Whistled the banker, and he made a disdainful grimace, which drove Antifer so mad that he tucked up his sleeves, preparatory to clutching at the banker's throat. But the banker, seeing that he had gone too far for his personal comfort, suddenly toned down and remarked, but I think we can arrange this. Antifer dug his hands into his pockets so as to be less tempted to use them. Sir, continued the banker, I am rich. I have very simple tastes, and neither two millions nor four were changed my mode of life. But I have a passion for accumulating money, and I admit the Camelik Pasha's treasure will look well at my coffers. Well, ever since I knew of the existence of this treasure, I've had no other thought than to obtain an entire possession of it. Indeed. Wait a little. And my share? Your share? You can have it only in such a way that it will remain in my family. That it will no longer be mine. You can take it or leave it. Explain yourself. I have a sister, Talisman. My compliments. She lives in Malta. So much the better for her if the climate suits her. She's 47 years old and by no means bad looking for her age. That I am not astonished at if she looks like you. Well, as you are a bachelor, will you marry my sister? Marry your sister, yelled Antifer, his face a vivid scarlet with congestion. Yes, marry her, continued the banker, and it decided to tone that admitted of no reply. By that union, your two millions on one side, and my two millions on the other would remain in my family. Mr. Zimbogo answered Antifer. Mr. Antifer. Is this proposal serious? Nothing could be more serious. And if you declined to marry my sister, everything is at an end between us, and you can return to France. A dull rattling was heard. Antifer was choking. He tore off his cravat. He clutched his hat. He rushed across the courtyard. He ran down the street, gesticulating and behaving himself like a madman. Soak, who had been waiting all this time, followed him, very much disturbed at his proceedings. Antifer reached the hotel and flung himself into the vestibule. Seeing his friend and his nephew in a little room adjoining the dining room, he rushed up to them and roared, The Wretch! Do you know what he wants? To kill you, asked Trigamane. Worse. To marry me to his sister. End of Chapter 19. Chapter 20 of Captain Antifer by Jules Verne. This libel box recording is in the public domain. Recording by Joe De Noia, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 20. Accustomed as they were to complications, it may be safely affirmed that neither the bargeman nor Jule expected this one. Captain Antifer, the hardened bachelor, to be thus left at the foot of the wall, and what wall? The wall of marriage, which he was obliged to cross unless he was prepared to lose his share in the enormous legacy. Jule begged his uncle to give them the details of when it had occurred, and he told the story amid broadsides of explosive exclamations, which unfortunately could not reach Zambucco under shelter of his house in the Maltese quarter. Here was his old boy of 46 to be married to a girl of 47, and become a species of Oriental, a sort of antiferpasha. Tregomane and Jule were absolutely dumbfounded, and looked at each other in silence, but the same thought doubtless occurred to both. Away with the millions, said the bargeman to himself. Away with the obstacle to my marriage with Enogate, said Jule to himself. That Captain Antifer would agree to Zambuc's demands that he would consent to become the banker's brother-in-law was quite inadmissible. He would never submit to this absurdity even for a million millions. Nevertheless, Antifer strode backwards and forwards from one end of the room to the other. Then he stopped, sat down, looked at his nephew and his friend in the face, then turned his eyes away. It was painful to see him, and if ever Tregomane thought he was going out of his mind, it was then. He and Jule tacitly resolved to do nothing to irritate him, whatever he might say. At length he spoke furiously and jurgly. Four millions lost by this rascal's obstinacy. He deserves to be guillotined, hanged, shot, stabbed, poisoned, impaled, all at the same time. He refuses to give me his latitude if I don't marry. Marry this monkey-faced maltease. Would you see me the husband of this talisman? Certainly not. His friends would not see him, and the introduction of such a sister-in-law and aunt into the bosom of the honorable family of Antifer would be one of the most unlikely events anyone could imagine. Tell me, bargeman. My friend, has anyone the right to leave four millions hidden in a hole when he's only to take one step to pick them out? I'm not prepared to answer that question, replied Tregomane evasively. Ah, you were not prepared, shouted Antifer, throwing his hat into a corner. Well, are you prepared to answer this one? What? If an individual loads a boat, say a barge, a Charmante Amelie if you will. Tregomane felt that the Charmante Amelie was going to have a bad time of it. If he loads that old carcass with four millions in gold, and if he publicly announces that he's going to skull her in the open sea, so as to sick those millions, you think the government will let him do so? Come now, speak. I do not think so. Yet that is what this master Zambuco has gotten to his head. He has put to say one word to save his millions and mine, and he's obstinately silent. Never heard of a more abominable rascal, said Tregomane in the tone of anger. Look here. Jewel? Uncle? If we report him to the authorities, we might do that as a last resort. Yes, for the authorities can do what a private individual cannot do. They might torture him, put him on the rack, roast his feet at the fire, and that would bring him to reason. That is not a bad idea, Uncle. Excellent, Jewel. And to pay this fellow out, I would give up my share and hand it over to the public. That, said the bargeman, would be fine, noble, generous. Worthy of a Frenchman. Worthy of a real antifer. In making the proposal, Jewel's uncle had probably gone further than he intended, for he gave Tregomane such a terrible look that the bargeman stopped short in his outburst of admiration. Four millions, four millions, repeated Captain Antifer. I would kill this Zambuco. Uncle, my friend. And really in his state of exasperation, it was to be feared the antifer would attempt some unfortunate violence. For which he would not be responsible, but went to the attack of mental alienation. But when Tregomane and Jewel tried to calm him, he repulsed them fiercely, accusing them of conspiring with his enemies of helping Zambuco, of not wishing to smash him like a sneak of a steward. Leave me alone, he growled. Leave me alone. And picking up his hat, he jerked open the door and rushed out of the room. The others, thinking he was off to the bankers, ran after him to prevent a disaster, but were much relieved to see him hurrying up the grand staircase to his bedroom, where he locked himself in. That is the best thing he could do to Tregomane nodding his head. Yes, poor uncle, replied Jewel. After such a scene, they had very little appetite for dinner. When it was over, they left the hotel to breathe a little fresh air on the banks of the Bahira. As they went out, they met Ben Omar, accompanied by Nazim. Was there any objection to their telling the notary what had happened? Certainly not. When he heard of the conditions the banker required, Ben Omar's remark was, he ought to marry Ms. Zambuco. He has no right to refuse. No, he has no right to. This was also the opinion of Saouk, who would not have hesitated to contract any marriage whatever if the marriage would bring him such a dowry. Tregomane and Jewel turned their backs of them and went down the nearest street. A fine evening with a fresh sea breeze had brought the people of Tunis out to take the air. Jewel and his companions walked toward the wall, went through the gate and along the lake for a hundred yards or so, and sat down at the table at the cafe Wiena, where they discussed the flask of Manuba and talked matters over. Nothing could be simpler as far as they were concerned. Captain Antifor would never consent to Zambuco's terms. Consequently, they would have to give up all thoughts of discovering island number two. Consequently, they would leave Tunis by the next mail steamer. Consequently, the men's satisfaction at returning to France by the shortest road. This was evidently the only possible solution. There would be none the worse for returning to St. Malo without Kamalik Pasha's big bag. Then what was the good of his excellencies ingenuities? About nine o'clock, Tregraman and Jewel returned to the hotel. As they went to their rooms, they stopped for a moment before Antifor's room. He was not asleep. He had not even gone to bed. He was walking about talking to himself and could be heard gasping, millions, millions, millions. Tregraman made a sign to show that he must have gone wrong in his head, and then wishing one another good night, they separated, very uneasy. In the morning, they were up early. It was only their duty to go and see how Antifor was, to ask him what he intended to do. Surely he can only intend to pack his portmanteau and clear out from Tunis. Jewel had ascertained that the steamer which had put in at La Goulaye was going to start that evening from Marzai. What would Jewel have given to have had his uncle safe on board shut up in his cabin and 20 miles away from the African coast? He and Tregraman went along the passage to Antifor's room. They knocked at the door. There was no reply. Jewel knocked more loudly, the same silence. Was his uncle sleeping the sleep of a sailor whom not even the reports of 24 pounders can awaken? Or rather, had he in a moment of despair, Jewel ran downstairs to the porter's lodge four steps at a time, Tregraman clung to the rail to save himself from rolling to the bottom. Captain Antifor? He went out early, replied the porter to Jewel's question, and he did not say where he was going. He did not. Has he got that scoundrel's Zambuco asked Jewel, dragging Tregraman out? But if he has, it's because he can sense, murmured the bargeman, raising his hands to the sky. It is not possible, said Jewel. No, it is not possible. Fancy him returning to St. Malo, to his house in the Rude Józales, with Talisman Zambuco on his arm, bringing little Enigate a Maltese on. A monkey, as my uncle called her, and as anxious as they could be, they sat down at the cafe facing the hotel, looking to watch for his return. It is said that the night brings counsel, and it is not said that the counsel is necessarily good. It was only too true that Antifor had gone out very early in the morning, hurried to the Maltese quarter, and reached the banker's house as quickly as he had a pack of hounds at his heels. Zambuco was accustomed to rise with the sun, and go to bed when it's set. Consequently, he was in his armchair, with the table in front of him and the safe behind him, when Antifor was introduced to his presence. Good morning, he said, adjusting his spectacles, so as to get his visitor well in the middle of the glasses. Is that your last word, as Antifor, by way of beginning the interview? My last. You refuse to give me Kemalik Pasha's letter, unless I marry your sister. I refuse. Then I will marry her. I knew that. A woman who brings you two millions is a dowry. Why, a Rothschild's son would be only too happy to become the husband of Talisman. Well, I shall only be too happy, said Antifor, with a grimace he took no pains to hide. Come then, brother-in-law, said Zambuco, and he rose as if he were going to fetch her. Is she here, asked Antifor? His face was like that of a condemned man in the morning of his execution when the jailer says to him, now then, courage please. Today is the day. Calm your impatience, replied the banker. Do you forget that Talisman is at Malta? Where are we going then, asked Antifor, with a sigh of relief? To the telegraph office. So as to send her news. Yes, and to receive her reply. Send her the news if you like, but I may as well tell you that I have no intention of awaiting my intended attunement. And why not? Because you and I have no time to lose. The first thing for us to do is to go in search of the island, when we know where it is. What does it matter whether we are a week early or late? But it does matter, and you ought to be quite as eager as I am to enter into possession of Kamalik Pasha's legacy. Yes, quite as eager for the banker, avaricious and rapacious, although he tried to hide his impatience under effected indifference, was burning with desire to get hold of his share of the millions. Be it so, he said, I agree with you. I will not send for my sister until I return, but I must let her know of the happiness which awaits her. Yes, which awaits her, replied Antifur, without thinking of the kind of happiness that was reserved for her who had waited so many years for the husband of her dreams. Only, continued Zamboko, we must have a regular engagement. Write it out, and I will sign it. With a forfeit of non-completion? Agreed. How much the forfeit? Let us say the two millions which will be your share. All right, be quick about it, replied Antifur, resigned to becoming Talisman's husband, as he could not escape that happiness. The banker took out a sheet of white paper, and in his large handwriting drew out a contract to marry in all due form. It was stipulated, but the share received by Captain Antifur as legatee of Kamalik Pasha should be handed over, in its entirety, to Talisman Zamboko in the event of his refusing to marry her within a fortnight of the discovery of the treasure. And with a furious flourish, Antifur signed this contract, which the banker placed in one of the drawers of his safe. At the same time, he took out a faded yellow paper, the letter he had received from Kamalik twenty years before. Antifur had taken out of his pocketbook another paper quite as faded and yellow. This was the document found on island number one. What a scene for a painter. The two legatees looking at each other, like dualists about to cross swords, their arms stretch out just a little, their fingers trembling at the contact of these papers they turned to hand over with regret. Your letter, said Antifur? Your document, said Zamboko? The exchange was made. It was time. The two men's hearts were beating so violently that they had nearly broken. The document indicating that it was to be taken by a certain Antifur of St. Malo to a certain Zamboko of Tunis bore the longitude of seven degrees twenty-three minutes east. The letter announcing that the said Zamboko of Tunis would one day receive a visit from the said Antifur of St. Malo bore the latitude of three degrees seventeen minutes south. All it was wanted was to cross these two lines of the map to discover the position of island number two. You have doubtless and atlas, asked the banker. An atlas and a nephew, replied Antifur. A nephew? Yes, a sea captain who will take charge of this matter for us. Where is this nephew? At the hotel de France. Come along then, brother-in-law, said Zamboko, putting on a broad brimmed hat. Come along, said Antifur. Off they went to the hotel. As they passed the post office, Zamboko said he would go in and send a telegram to Malta. Antifur made no objection. The least he can do was to let the lady know that her hand had been solicited by an officer of the French Marine and with her brother's consent under most acceptable conditions as to a fortune and family. The telegram hadn't been paid for. The two legates came out into the street, when Tregman and Jewel caught sight of them and hurried to meet them. When he noticed them, Antifur's first movement was a turn away his head. But mastering this inopportune weakness introduced his companion in an imperious voice. The banker Zamboko. The banker gave his future brother-in-law's companions anything but an agreeable look. Then Antifur added, Jewel, my nephew, Tregome, my friend. Then at a sign, they all moved toward the hotel, avoiding as they passed Ben Omar and Nazim. But it did not seem to know, mounted the stairs and entered Antifur's room and locked the door. Antifur took out of his bag the atlas he had brought from Seamolo. He opened it at the map of the world and handed it to Jewel, said seven degrees 23 minutes east and three degrees 17 minutes south. Jewel could not help but gesture of annoyance. Latitude south. Can't believe Pasha was going to send them across the line. Ah, his poor little ennogate. Tregome hardly dared to look at him. Well, what are you waiting for? asked his uncle in the tone which the young captain could only obey. He took the compasses and following the seventh meridian, with the 23 minutes added on, he ran down to the equator. Running along the parallel three degrees 17 minutes, he stopped where it intersected the meridian. Well said Antifur, whereabouts are we? In the Gulf of Guinea, and more exactly, in Mayumba Bay. Tomorrow morning, said Antifur, we will take the diligence for bone and at bone we will take the train to Iran. This was said in the tone of a man of war captain, ordering to beat to quarters when the enemy is in sight. Turning to the banker, he said, you will accompany us, of course. Of course. To the Gulf of Guinea. To the end of the world if necessary. Well, be ready to start. I shall be ready, brother-in-law. Tregome uttered in voluntary, ah, at this qualification, so new to his ears. You so astounded that he was unable to reply to the ironical salute, in which the banker honored him as he retired. When the three were alone. And so you have consented, said Tregome? Yes, bargeman. What then? What then? No one could say anything, and that was why Tregome and Jewell thought it best to keep silent. Two hours later the banker received a telegram from Malta. Tolisma Zambuco informed him that she was the happiest of sisters, and expected to be the happiest of wives. End of chapter 20.