Five Weeks in a Balloon
by Jules Verne · English · Gutenberg #3526 · 555,042 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Five Weeks in a Balloon
Author: Jules Verne
Release date: November 1, 2002 [eBook #3526]
Most recently updated: July 11, 2024
Language: English
Original publication: New York: Appleton & Co., 1869
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3526
Credits: Judy Boss and David Widger
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FIVE WEEKS IN A BALLOON ***
[Illustration]
FIVE WEEKS IN A BALLOON
Or,
Journeys And Discoveries In Africa By Three Englishmen.
Compiled In French
By Jules Verne,
From The Original Notes Of Dr. Ferguson.
And Done Into English By
“William Lackland.”
CONTENTS
PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.
DETAILED CONTENTS.
FIVE WEEKS IN A BALLOON.
CHAPTER FIRST.
CHAPTER SECOND.
CHAPTER THIRD.
CHAPTER FOURTH.
CHAPTER FIFTH.
CHAPTER SIXTH.
CHAPTER SEVENTH.
CHAPTER EIGHTH.
CHAPTER NINTH.
CHAPTER TENTH.
CHAPTER ELEVENTH.
CHAPTER TWELFTH.
CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.
CHAPTER FOURTEENTH.
CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.
CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
CHAPTER SEVENTEENTH.
CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH.
CHAPTER NINETEENTH.
CHAPTER TWENTIETH.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIRST.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SECOND.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THIRD.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOURTH.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIFTH.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIXTH.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVENTH.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHTH.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINTH.
CHAPTER THIRTIETH.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIRST.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SECOND.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THIRD.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURTH.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIFTH.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIXTH.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVENTH.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHTH.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINTH.
CHAPTER FORTIETH.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIRST.
CHAPTER FORTY-SECOND.
CHAPTER FORTY-THIRD.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOURTH.
PUBLISHERS’ NOTE.
“Five Weeks in a Balloon” is, in a measure, a satire on modern books of
African travel. So far as the geography, the inhabitants, the animals,
and the features of the countries the travellers pass over are
described, it is entirely accurate. It gives, in some particulars, a
survey of nearly the whole field of African discovery, and in this way
will often serve to refresh the memory of the reader. The mode of
locomotion is, of course, purely imaginary, and the incidents and
adventures fictitious. The latter are abundantly amusing, and, in view
of the wonderful “travellers’ tales” with which we have been
entertained by African explorers, they can scarcely be considered
extravagant; while the ingenuity and invention of the author will be
sure to excite the surprise and the admiration of the reader, who will
find M. VERNE as much at home in voyaging through the air as in
journeying “Twenty Thousand Leagues under the Seas.”
DETAILED CONTENTS.
CHAP. FIRST.
The End of a much-applauded Speech.—The Presentation of Dr. Samuel
Ferguson.—Excelsior.—Full-length Portrait of the Doctor.—A Fatalist
convinced.—A Dinner at the Travellers’ Club.—Several Toasts for the
Occasion
CHAP. SECOND.
The Article in the Daily Telegraph.—War between the Scientific
Journals.—Mr. Petermann backs his Friend Dr. Ferguson.—Reply of the
Savant Koner.—Bets made.—Sundry Propositions offered to the Doctor
CHAP. THIRD.
The Doctor’s Friend.—The Origin of their Friendship.—Dick Kennedy at
London.—An unexpected but not very consoling Proposal.—A Proverb by no
means cheering.—A few Names from the African Martyrology.—The
Advantages of a Balloon.—Dr. Ferguson’s Secret
CHAP. FOURTH.
African Explorations.—Barth, Richardson, Overweg, Werne, Brun-Rollet,
Penney, Andrea, Debono, Miani, Guillaume Lejean, Brace, Krapf and
Rebmann, Maizan, Roscher, Burton and Speke
CHAP. FIFTH.
Kennedy’s Dreams.—Articles and Pronouns in the Plural.—Dick’s
Insinuations.—A Promenade over the Map of Africa.—What is contained
between two Points of the Compass.—Expeditions now on foot.—Speke and
Grant.—Krapf, De Decken, and De Heuglin
CHAP. SIXTH.
A Servant—match him!—He can see the Satellites of Jupiter.—Dick and Joe
hard at it.—Doubt and Faith.—The Weighing Ceremony.—Joe and
Wellington.—He gets a Half-crown
CHAP. SEVENTH.
Geometrical Details.—Calculation of the Capacity of the Balloon.—The
Double Receptacle.—The Covering.—The Car.—The Mysterious Apparatus.—The
Provisions and Stores.—The Final Summing up
CHAP. EIGHTH.
Joe’s Importance.—The Commander of the Resolute.—Kennedy’s
Arsenal.—Mutual Amenities.—The Farewell Dinner.—Departure on the 21st
of February.—The Doctor’s Scientific Sessions.—Duveyrier.—Livingstone.
—Details of the Aerial Voyage.—Kennedy silenced
CHAP. NINTH.
They double the Cape.—The Forecastle.—A Course of Cosmography by
Professor Joe.—Concerning the Method of guiding Balloons.—How to seek
out Atmospheric Currents.—Eureka
CHAP. TENTH.
Former Experiments.—The Doctor’s Five Receptacles.—The Gas
Cylinder.—The Calorifere.—The System of Manœuvring.—Success certain
CHAP. ELEVENTH.
The Arrival at Zanzibar.—The English Consul.—Ill-will of the
Inhabitants.—The Island of Koumbeni.—The Rain-Makers.—Inflation of the
Balloon.—Departure on the 18th of April.—The last Good-by.—The Victoria
CHAP. TWELFTH.
Crossing the Strait.—The Mrima.—Dick’s Remark and Joe’s Proposition.—A
Recipe for Coffee-making.—The Uzaramo.—The Unfortunate Maizan.—Mount
Duthumi.—The Doctor’s Cards.—Night under a Nopal
CHAP. THIRTEENTH.
Change of Weather.—Kennedy has the Fever.—The Doctor’s
Medicine.—Travels on Land.—The Basin of Imenge.—Mount Rubeho.—Six
Thousand Feet Elevation.—A Halt in the Daytime
CHAP. FOURTEENTH.
The Forest of Gum-Trees.—The Blue Antelope.—The Rallying-Signal.—An
Unexpected Attack.—The Kanyemé.—A Night in the Open Air.—The
Mabunguru.—Jihoue-la-Mkoa.—A Supply of Water.—Arrival at Kazeh
CHAP. FIFTEENTH.
Kazeh.—The Noisy Market-place.—The Appearance of the Balloon.—The
Wangaga.—The Sons of the Moon.—The Doctor’s Walk.—The Population of the
Place.—The Royal Tembe.—The Sultan’s Wives.—A Royal Drunken-Bout.—Joe
an Object of Worship.—How they Dance in the Moon.—A Reaction.—Two Moons
in one Sky.—The Instability of Divine Honors
CHAP. SIXTEENTH.
Symptoms of a Storm.—The Country of the Moon.—The Future of the African
Continent.—The Last Machine of all.—A View of the Country at
Sunset.—Flora and Fauna.—The Tempest.—The Zone of Fire.—The Starry
Heavens.
CHAP. SEVENTEENTH.
The Mountains of the Moon.—An Ocean of Venture.—They cast Anchor.—The
Towing Elephant.—A Running Fire.—Death of the Monster.—The Field
Oven.—A Meal on the Grass.—A Night on the Ground
CHAP. EIGHTEENTH.
The Karagwah.—Lake Ukéréoué.—A Night on an Island.—The
Equator.—Crossing the Lake.—The Cascades.—A View of the Country.—The
Sources of the Nile.—The Island of Benga.—The Signature of Andrea
Debono.—The Flag with the Arms of England
CHAP. NINETEENTH.
The Nile.—The Trembling Mountain.—A Remembrance of the Country.—The
Narratives of the Arabs.—The Nyam-Nyams.—Joe’s Shrewd Cogitations.—The
Balloon runs the Gantlet.—Aerostatic Ascensions.—Madame Blanchard.
CHAP. TWENTIETH.
The Celestial Bottle.—The Fig-Palms.—The Mammoth Trees.—The Tree of
War.—The Winged Team.—Two Native Tribes in Battle.—A Massacre.—An
Intervention from above
CHAP. TWENTY-FIRST.
Strange Sounds.—A Night Attack.—Kennedy and Joe in the Tree.—Two
Shots.—“Help! help!”—Reply in French.—The Morning.—The Missionary.—The
Plan of Rescue
CHAP. TWENTY-SECOND.
The Jet of Light.—The Missionary.—The Rescue in a Ray of Electricity.—A
Lazarist Priest.—But little Hope.—The Doctor’s Care.—A Life of
Self-Denial.—Passing a Volcano
CHAP. TWENTY-THIRD.
Joe in a Fit of Rage.—The Death of a Good Man.—The Night of watching by
the Body.—Barrenness and Drought.—The Burial.—The Quartz Rocks.—Joe’s
Hallucinations.—A Precious Ballast.—A Survey of the Gold-bearing
Mountains.—The Beginning of Joe’s Despair
CHAP. TWENTY-FOURTH.
The Wind dies away.—The Vicinity of the Desert.—The Mistake in the
Water Supply.—The Nights of the Equator.—Dr. Ferguson’s Anxieties.—The
Situation flatly stated.—Energetic Replies of Kennedy and Joe.—One
Night more
CHAP. TWENTY-FIFTH.
A Little Philosophy.—A Cloud on the Horizon.—In the Midst of a Fog.—The
Strange Balloon.—An Exact View of the Victoria.—The Palm-Trees.—Traces
of a Caravan.—The Well in the Midst of the Desert
CHAP. TWENTY-SIXTH.
One Hundred and Thirteen Degrees.—The Doctor’s Reflections.—A Desperate
Search.—The Cylinder goes out.—One Hundred and Twenty-two
Degrees.—Contemplation of the Desert.—A Night
Walk.—Solitude.—Debility.—Joe’s Prospects.—He gives himself One Day
more
CHAP. TWENTY-SEVENTH.
Terrific Heat.—Hallucinations.—The Last Drops of Water.—Nights of
Despair.—An Attempt at Suicide.—The Simoom.—The Oasis.—The Lion and
Lioness.
CHAP. TWENTY-EIGHTH.
An Evening of Delight.—Joe’s Culinary Performances.—A Dissertation on
Raw Meat.—The Narrative of James Bruce.—Camping out.—Joe’s Dreams.—The
Barometer begins to fall.—The Barometer rises again.—Preparations for
Departure.—The Tempest
CHAP. TWENTY-NINTH.
Signs of Vegetation.—The Fantastic Notion of a French Author.—A
Magnificent Country.—The Kingdom of Adamova.—The Explorations of Speke
and Burton connected with those of Dr. Barth.—The Atlantika
Mountains.—The River Benoué.—The City of Yola.—The Bagélé.—Mount Mendif
CHAP. THIRTIETH.
Mosfeia.—The Sheik.—Denham, Clapperton, and Oudney.—Vogel.—The Capital
of Loggoum.—Toole.—Becalmed above Kernak.—The Governor and his
Court.—The Attack.—The Incendiary Pigeons
CHAP. THIRTY-FIRST.
Departure in the Night-time.—All Three.—Kennedy’s
Instincts.—Precautions.—The Course of the Shari River.—Lake Tchad.—The
Water of the Lake.—The Hippopotamus.—One Bullet thrown away
CHAP. THIRTY-SECOND.
The Capital of Bornou.—The Islands of the Biddiomahs.—The Condors.—The
Doctor’s Anxieties.—His Precautions.—An Attack in Mid-air.—The Balloon
Covering torn.—The Fall.—Sublime Self-Sacrifice.—The Northern Coast of
the Lake
CHAP. THIRTY-THIRD.
Conjectures.—Reestablishment of the Victoria’s Equilibrium.—Dr.
Ferguson’s New Calculations.—Kennedy’s Hunt.—A Complete Exploration of
Lake Tchad.—Tangalia.—The Return.—Lari
CHAP. THIRTY-FOURTH.
The Hurricane.—A Forced Departure.—Loss of an Anchor.—Melancholy
Reflections.—The Resolution adopted.—The Sand-Storm.—The Buried
Caravan.—A Contrary yet Favorable Wind.—The Return southward.—Kennedy
at his Post
CHAP. THIRTY-FIFTH.
What happened to Joe.—The Island of the Biddiomahs.—The Adoration shown
him.—The Island that sank.—The Shores of the Lake.—The Tree of the
Serpents.—The Foot-Tramp.—Terrible Suffering.—Mosquitoes and
Ants.—Hunger.—The Victoria seen.—She disappears.—The Swamp.—One Last
Despairing Cry
CHAP. THIRTY-SIXTH.
A Throng of People on the Horizon.—A Troop of Arabs.—The Pursuit.—It is
He.—Fall from Horseback.—The Strangled Arab.—A Ball from
Kennedy.—Adroit Manœuvres.—Caught up flying.—Joe saved at last
CHAP. THIRTY-SEVENTH.
The Western Route.—Joe wakes up.—His Obstinacy.—End of Joe’s
Narrative.—Tagelei.—Kennedy’s Anxieties.—The Route to the North.—A
Night near Aghades
CHAP. THIRTY-EIGHTH.
A Rapid Passage.—Prudent Resolves.—Caravans in Sight.—Incessant
Rains.—Goa.—The Niger.—Golberry, Geoffroy, and Gray.—Mungo
Park.—Laing.—René Caillié.—Clapperton.—John and Richard Lander
CHAP. THIRTY-NINTH.
The Country in the Elbow of the Niger.—A Fantastic View of the Hombori
Mountains.—Kabra.—Timbuctoo.—The Chart of Dr. Barth.—A Decaying
City.—Whither Heaven wills
CHAP. FORTIETH.
Dr. Ferguson’s Anxieties.—Persistent Movement southward.—A Cloud of
Grasshoppers.—A View of Jenné.—A View of Ségo.—Change of the
Wind.—Joe’s Regrets
CHAP. FORTY-FIRST.
The Approaches to Senegal.—The Balloon sinks lower and lower.—They keep
throwing out, throwing out.—The Marabout Al-Hadji.—Messrs. Pascal,
Vincent, and Lambert.—A Rival of Mohammed.—The Difficult
Mountains.—Kennedy’s Weapons.—One of Joe’s Manœuvres.—A Halt over a
Forest
CHAP. FORTY-SECOND.
A Struggle of Generosity.—The Last Sacrifice.—The Dilating
Apparatus.—Joe’s Adroitness.—Midnight.—The Doctor’s Watch.—Kennedy’s
Watch.—The Latter falls asleep at his Post.—The Fire.—The Howlings of
the Natives.—Out of Range
CHAP. FORTY-THIRD.
The Talabas.—The Pursuit.—A Devastated Country.—The Wind begins to
fall.—The Victoria sinks.—The last of the Provisions.—The Leaps of the
Balloon.—A Defence with Fire-arms.—The Wind freshens.—The Senegal
River.—The Cataracts of Gouina.—The Hot Air.—The Passage of the River
CHAP. FORTY-FOURTH.
Conclusion.—The Certificate.—The French Settlements.—The Post of
Medina.—The Battle.—Saint Louis.—The English Frigate.—The Return to
London.
FIVE WEEKS IN A BALLOON.
CHAPTER FIRST.
The End of a much-applauded Speech.—The Presentation of Dr. Samuel
Ferguson.—Excelsior.—Full-length Portrait of the Doctor.—A Fatalist
convinced.—A Dinner at the Travellers’ Club.—Several Toasts for the
Occasion.
There was a large audience assembled on the 14th of January, 1862, at
the session of the Royal Geographical Society, No. 3 Waterloo Place,
London. The president, Sir Francis M——, made an important communication
to his colleagues, in an address that was frequently interrupted by
applause.
This rare specimen of eloquence terminated with the following sonorous
phrases bubbling over with patriotism:
“England has always marched at the head of nations” (for, the reader
will observe, the nations always march at the head of each other), “by
the intrepidity of her explorers in the line of geographical
discovery.” (General assent). “Dr. Samuel Ferguson, one of her most
glorious sons, will not reflect discredit on his origin.” (“No,
indeed!” from all parts of the hall.)
“This attempt, should it succeed” (“It will succeed!”), “will complete
and link together the notions, as yet disjointed, which the world
entertains of African cartology” (vehement applause); “and, should it
fail, it will, at least, remain on record as one of the most daring
conceptions of human genius!” (Tremendous cheering.)
“Huzza! huzza!” shouted the immense audience, completely electrified by
these inspiring words.
“Huzza for the intrepid Ferguson!” cried one of the most excitable of
the enthusiastic crowd.
The wildest cheering resounded on all sides; the name of Ferguson was
in every mouth, and we may safely believe that it lost nothing in
passing through English throats. Indeed, the hall fairly shook with it.
And there were present, also, those fearless travellers and explorers
whose energetic temperaments had borne them through every quarter of
the globe, many of them grown old and worn out in the service of
science. All had, in some degree, physically or morally, undergone the
sorest trials. They had escaped shipwreck; conflagration; Indian
tomahawks and war-clubs; the fagot and the stake; nay, even the
cannibal maws of the South Sea Islanders. But still their hearts beat
high during Sir Francis M——’s address, which certainly was the finest
oratorical success that the Royal Geographical Society of London had
yet achieved.
But, in England, enthusiasm does not stop short with mere words. It
strikes off money faster than the dies of the Royal Mint itself. So a
subscription to encourage Dr. Ferguson was voted there and then, and it
at once attained the handsome amount of two thousand five hundred
pounds. The sum was made commensurate with the importance of the
enterprise.
A member of the Society then inquired of the president whether Dr.
Ferguson was not to be officially introduced.
“The doctor is at the disposition of the meeting,” replied Sir Francis.
“Let him come in, then! Bring him in!” shouted the audience. “We’d like
to see a man of such extraordinary daring, face to face!”
“Perhaps this incredible proposition of his is only intended to mystify
us,” growled an apoplectic old admiral.
“Suppose that there should turn out to be no such person as Dr.
Ferguson?” exclaimed another voice, with a malicious twang.
“Why, then, we’d have to invent one!” replied a facetious member of
this grave Society.
“Ask Dr. Ferguson to come in,” was the quiet remark of Sir Francis M——.
And come in the doctor did, and stood there, quite unmoved by the
thunders of applause that greeted his appearance.
He was a man of about forty years of age, of medium height and
physique. His sanguine temperament was disclosed in the deep color of
his cheeks. His countenance was coldly expressive, with regular
features, and a large nose—one of those noses that resemble the prow of
a ship, and stamp the faces of men predestined to accomplish great
discoveries. His eyes, which were gentle and intelligent, rather than
bold, lent a peculiar charm to his physiognomy. His arms were long, and
his feet were planted with that solidity which indicates a great
pedestrian.
A calm gravity seemed to surround the doctor’s entire person, and no
one would dream that he could become the agent of any mystification,
however harmless.
Hence, the applause that greeted him at the outset continued until he,
with a friendly gesture, claimed silence on his own behalf. He stepped
toward the seat that had been prepared for him on his presentation, and
then, standing erect and motionless, he, with a determined glance,
pointed his right forefinger upward, and pronounced aloud the single
word—
“Excelsior!”
Never had one of Bright’s or Cobden’s sudden onslaughts, never had one
of Palmerston’s abrupt demands for funds to plate the rocks of the
English coast with iron, made such a sensation. Sir Francis M——‘s
address was completely overshadowed. The doctor had shown himself
moderate, sublime, and self-contained, in one; he had uttered the word
of the situation—
“Excelsior!”
The gouty old admiral who had been finding fault, was completely won
over by the singular man before him, and immediately moved the
insertion of Dr. Ferguson’s speech in “The Proceedings of the Royal
Geographical Society of London.”
Who, then, was this person, and what was the enterprise that he
proposed?
Ferguson’s father, a brave and worthy captain in the English Navy, had
associated his son with him, from the young man’s earliest years, in
the perils and adventures of his profession. The fine little fellow,
who seemed to have never known the meaning of fear, early revealed a
keen and active mind, an investigating intelligence, and a remarkable
turn for scientific study; moreover, he disclosed uncommon address in
extricating himself from difficulty; he was never perplexed, not even
in handling his fork for the first time—an exercise in which children
generally have so little success.
His fancy kindled early at the recitals he read of daring enterprise
and maritime adventure, and he followed with enthusiasm the discoveries
that signalized the first part of the nineteenth century. He mused over
the glory of the Mungo Parks, the Bruces, the Caillies, the
Levaillants, and to some extent, I verily believe, of Selkirk (Robinson
Crusoe), whom he considered in no wise inferior to the rest. How many a
well-employed hour he passed with that hero on his isle of Juan
Fernandez! Often he criticised the ideas of the shipwrecked sailor, and
sometimes discussed his plans and projects. He would have done
differently, in such and such a case, or quite as well at least—of that
he felt assured. But of one thing he was satisfied, that he never
should have left that pleasant island, where he was as happy as a king
without subjects—no, not if the inducement held out had been promotion
to the first lordship in the admiralty!
It may readily be conjectured whether these tendencies were developed
during a youth of adventure, spent in every nook and corner of the
Globe. Moreover, his father, who was a man of thorough instruction,
omitted no opportunity to consolidate this keen intelligence by serious
studies in hydrography, physics, and mechanics, along with a slight
tincture of botany, medicine, and astronomy.
Upon the death of the estimable captain, Samuel Ferguson, then
twenty-two years of age, had already made his voyage around the world.
He had enlisted in the Bengalese Corps of Engineers, and distinguished
himself in several affairs; but this soldier’s life had not exactly
suited him; caring but little for command, he had not been fond of
obeying. He, therefore, sent in his resignation, and half botanizing,
half playing the hunter, he made his way toward the north of the Indian
Peninsula, and crossed it from Calcutta to Surat—a mere amateur trip
for him.
From Surat we see him going over to Australia, and in 1845
participating in Captain Sturt’s expedition, which had been sent out to
explore the new Caspian Sea, supposed to exist in the centre of New
Holland.
Samuel Ferguson returned to England about 1850, and, more than ever
possessed by the demon of discovery, he spent the intervening time,
until 1853, in accompanying Captain McClure on the expedition that went
around the American Continent from Behring’s Straits to Cape Farewell.
Notwithstanding fatigues of every description, and in all climates,
Ferguson’s constitution continued marvellously sound. He felt at ease
in the midst of the most complete privations; in fine, he was the very
type of the thoroughly accomplished explorer whose stomach expands or
contracts at will; whose limbs grow longer or shorter according to the
resting-place that each stage of a journey may bring; who can fall
asleep at any hour of the day or awake at any hour of the night.
Nothing, then, was less surprising, after that, than to find our
traveller, in the period from 1855 to 1857, visiting the whole region
west of the Thibet, in company with the brothers Schlagintweit, and
bringing back some curious ethnographic observations from that
expedition.
During these different journeys, Ferguson had been the most active and
interesting correspondent of the _Daily Telegraph_, the penny newspaper
whose circulation amounts to 140,000 copies, and yet scarcely suffices
for its many legions of readers. Thus, the doctor had become well known
to the public, although he could not claim membership in either of the
Royal Geographical Societies of London, Paris, Berlin, Vienna, or St.
Petersburg, or yet with the Travellers’ Club, or even the Royal
Polytechnic Institute, where his friend the statistician Cockburn ruled
in state.
The latter _savant_ had, one day, gone so far as to propose to him the
following problem: Given the number of miles travelled by the doctor in
making the circuit of the Globe, how many more had his head described
than his feet, by reason of the different lengths of the radii?—or, the
number of miles traversed by the doctor’s head and feet respectively
being given, required the exact height of that gentleman?
This was done with the idea of complimenting him, but the doctor had
held himself aloof from all the learned bodies—belonging, as he did, to
the church militant and not to the church polemical. He found his time
better employed in seeking than in discussing, in discovering rather
than discoursing.
There is a story told of an Englishman who came one day to Geneva,
intending to visit the lake. He was placed in one of those odd vehicles
in which the passengers sit side by side, as they do in an omnibus.
Well, it so happened that the Englishman got a seat that left him with
his back turned toward the lake. The vehicle completed its circular
trip without his thinking to turn around once, and he went back to
London delighted with the Lake of Geneva.
Doctor Ferguson, however, had turned around to look about him on his
journeyings, and turned to such good purpose that he had seen a great
deal. In doing so, he had simply obeyed the laws of his nature, and we
have good reason to believe that he was, to some extent, a fatalist,
but of an orthodox school of fatalism withal, that led him to rely upon
himself and even upon Providence. He claimed that he was impelled,
rather than drawn by his own volition, to journey as he did, and that
he traversed the world like the locomotive, which does not direct
itself, but is guided and directed by the track it runs on.
“I do not follow my route;” he often said, “it is my route that follows
me.”
The reader will not be surprised, then, at the calmness with which the
doctor received the applause that welcomed him in the Royal Society. He
was above all such trifles, having no pride, and less vanity. He looked
upon the proposition addressed to him by Sir Francis M——as the simplest
thing in the world, and scarcely noticed the immense effect that it
produced.
When the session closed, the doctor was escorted to the rooms of the
Travellers’ Club, in Pall Mall. A superb entertainment had been
prepared there in his honor. The dimensions of the dishes served were
made to correspond with the importance of the personage entertained,
and the boiled sturgeon that figured at this magnificent repast was not
an inch shorter than Dr. Ferguson himself.
Numerous toasts were offered and quaffed, in the wines of France, to
the celebrated travellers who had made their names illustrious by their
explorations of African territory. The guests drank to their health or
to their memory, in alphabetical order, a good old English way of doing
the thing. Among those remembered thus, were: Abbadie, Adams, Adamson,
Anderson, Arnaud, Baikie, Baldwin, Barth, Batouda, Beke, Beltram, Du
Berba, Bimbachi, Bolognesi, Bolwik, Belzoni, Bonnemain, Brisson,
Browne, Bruce, Brun-Rollet, Burchell, Burckhardt, Burton, Cailland,
Caillie, Campbell, Chapman, Clapperton, Clot-Bey, Colomieu, Courval,
Cumming, Cuny, Debono, Decken, Denham, Desavanchers, Dicksen, Dickson,
Dochard, Du Chaillu, Duncan, Durand, Duroule, Duveyrier, D’Escayrac, De
Lauture, Erhardt, Ferret, Fresnel, Galinier, Galton, Geoffroy,
Golberry, Hahn, Halm, Harnier, Hecquart, Heuglin, Hornemann, Houghton,
Imbert, Kauffmann, Knoblecher, Krapf, Kummer, Lafargue, Laing,
Lafaille, Lambert, Lamiral, Lampriere, John Lander, Richard Lander,
Lefebvre, Lejean, Levaillant, Livingstone, MacCarthy, Maggiar, Maizan,
Malzac, Moffat, Mollien, Monteiro, Morrison, Mungo Park, Neimans,
Overweg, Panet, Partarrieau, Pascal, Pearse, Peddie, Penney, Petherick,
Poncet, Prax, Raffenel, Rabh, Rebmann, Richardson, Riley, Ritchey,
Rochet d’Hericourt, Rongawi, Roscher, Ruppel, Saugnier, Speke,
Steidner, Thibaud, Thompson, Thornton, Toole, Tousny, Trotter, Tuckey,
Tyrwhitt, Vaudey, Veyssière, Vincent, Vinco, Vogel, Wahlberg,
Warrington, Washington, Werne, Wild, and last, but not least, Dr.
Ferguson, who, by his incredible attempt, was to link together the
achievements of all these explorers, and complete the series of African
discovery.
CHAPTER SECOND.
The Article in the Daily Telegraph.—War between the Scientific
Journals.—Mr. Petermann backs his Friend Dr. Ferguson.—Reply of the
Savant Koner.—Bets made.—Sundry Propositions offered to the Doctor.
On the next day, in its number of January 15th, the _Daily Telegraph_
published an article couched in the following terms:
“Africa is, at length, about to surrender the secret of her vast
solitudes; a modern Œdipus is to give us the key to that enigma which
the learned men of sixty centuries have not been able to decipher. In
other days, to seek the sources of the Nile—_fontes Nili quærere_—was
regarded as a mad endeavor, a chimera that could not be realized.
“Dr. Barth, in following out to Soudan the track traced by Denham and
Clapperton; Dr. Livingstone, in multiplying his fearless explorations
from the Cape of Good Hope to the basin of the Zambesi; Captains Burton
and Speke, in the discovery of the great interior lakes, have opened
three highways to modern civilization. _Their point of intersection_,
which no traveller has yet been able to reach, is the very heart of
Africa, and it is thither that all efforts should now be directed.
“The labors of these hardy pioneers of science are now about to be knit
together by the daring project of Dr. Samuel Ferguson, whose fine
explorations our readers have frequently had the opportunity of
appreciating.
“This intrepid discoverer proposes to traverse all Africa from east to
west _in a balloon_. If we are well informed, the point of departure
for this surprising journey is to be the island of Zanzibar, upon the
eastern coast. As for the point of arrival, it is reserved for
Providence alone to designate.
“The proposal for this scientific undertaking was officially made,
yesterday, at the rooms of the Royal Geographical Society, and the sum
of twenty-five hundred pounds was voted to defray the expenses of the
enterprise.
“We shall keep our readers informed as to the progress of this
enterprise, which has no precedent in the annals of exploration.”
As may be supposed, the foregoing article had an enormous echo among
scientific people. At first, it stirred up a storm of incredulity; Dr.
Ferguson passed for a purely chimerical personage of the Barnum stamp,
who, after having gone through the United States, proposed to “do” the
British Isles.
A humorous reply appeared in the February number of the _Bulletins de
la Société Géographique_ of Geneva, which very wittily showed up the
Royal Society of London and their phenomenal sturgeon.
But Herr Petermann, in his _Mittheilungen_, published at Gotha, reduced
the Geneva journal to the most absolute silence. Herr Petermann knew
Dr. Ferguson personally, and guaranteed the intrepidity of his
dauntless friend.
Besides, all manner of doubt was quickly put out of the question:
preparations for the trip were set on foot at London; the factories of
Lyons received a heavy order for the silk required for the body of the
balloon; and, finally, the British Government placed the transport-ship
_Resolute_, Captain Bennett, at the disposal of the expedition.
At once, upon word of all this, a thousand encouragements were offered,
and felicitations came pouring in from all quarters. The details of the
undertaking were published in full in the bulletins of the Geographical
Society of Paris; a remarkable article appeared in the _Nouvelles
Annales des Voyages, de la Géographie, de l’Histoire, et de
l’Archaeologie de M. V. A. Malte-Brun_ (“New Annals of Travels,
Geography, History, and Archaeology, by M. V. A. Malte-Brun”); and a
searching essay in the _Zeitschrift für Allgemeine Erdkunde_, by Dr. W.
Koner, triumphantly demonstrated the feasibility of the journey, its
chances of success, the nature of the obstacles existing, the immense
advantages of the aërial mode of locomotion, and found fault with
nothing but the selected point of departure, which it contended should
be Massowah, a small port in Abyssinia, whence James Bruce, in 1768,
started upon his explorations in search of the sources of the Nile.
Apart from that, it mentioned, in terms of unreserved admiration, the
energetic character of Dr. Ferguson, and the heart, thrice panoplied in
bronze, that could conceive and undertake such an enterprise.
The _North American Review_ could not, without some displeasure,
contemplate so much glory monopolized by England. It therefore rather
ridiculed the doctor’s scheme, and urged him, by all means, to push his
explorations as far as America, while he was about it.
In a word, without going over all the journals in the world, there was
not a scientific publication, from the _Journal of Evangelical
Missions_ to the _Revue Algérienne et Coloniale_, from the _Annales de
la Propagation de la Foi_ to the _Church Missionary Intelligencer_,
that had not something to say about the affair in all its phases.
Many large bets were made at London and throughout England generally,
first, as to the real or supposititious existence of Dr. Ferguson;
secondly, as to the trip itself, which, some contended, would not be
undertaken at all, and which was really contemplated, according to
others; thirdly, upon the success or failure of the enterprise; and
fourthly, upon the probabilities of Dr. Ferguson’s return. The
betting-books were covered with entries of immense sums, as though the
Epsom races were at stake.
Thus, believers and unbelievers, the learned and the ignorant, alike
had their eyes fixed on the doctor, and he became the lion of the day,
without knowing that he carried such a mane. On his part, he willingly
gave the most accurate information touching his project. He was very
easily approached, being naturally the most affable man in the world.
More than one bold adventurer presented himself, offering to share the
dangers as well as the glory of the undertaking; but he refused them
all, without giving his reasons for rejecting them.
Numerous inventors of mechanism applicable to the guidance of balloons
came to propose their systems, but he would accept none; and, when he
was asked whether he had discovered something of his own for that
purpose, he constantly refused to give any explanation, and merely
busied himself more actively than ever with the preparations for his
journey.
CHAPTER THIRD.
The Doctor’s Friend.—The Origin of their Friendship.—Dick Kennedy at
London.—An unexpected but not very consoling Proposal.—A Proverb by no
means cheering.—A few Names from the African Martyrology.—The
Advantages of a Balloon.—Dr. Ferguson’s Secret.
Dr. Ferguson had a friend—not another self, indeed, an _alter ego_, for
friendship could not exist between two beings exactly alike.
But, if they possessed different qualities, aptitudes, and
temperaments, Dick Kennedy and Samuel Ferguson lived with one and the
same heart, and that gave them no great trouble. In fact, quite the
reverse.
Dick Kennedy was a Scotchman, in the full acceptation of the word—open,
resolute, and headstrong. He lived in the town of Leith, which is near
Edinburgh, and, in truth, is a mere suburb of _Auld Reekie_. Sometimes
he was a fisherman, but he was always and everywhere a determined
hunter, and that was nothing remarkable for a son of Caledonia, who had
known some little climbing among the Highland mountains. He was cited
as a wonderful shot with the rifle, since not only could he split a
bullet on a knife-blade, but he could divide it into two such equal
parts that, upon weighing them, scarcely any difference would be
perceptible.
Kennedy’s countenance strikingly recalled that of Herbert Glendinning,
as Sir Walter Scott has depicted it in “The Monastery”; his stature was
above six feet; full of grace and easy movement, he yet seemed gifted
with herculean strength; a face embrowned by the sun; eyes keen and
black; a natural air of daring courage; in fine, something sound,
solid, and reliable in his entire person, spoke, at first glance, in
favor of the bonny Scot.
The acquaintanceship of these two friends had been formed in India,
when they belonged to the same regiment. While Dick would be out in
pursuit of the tiger and the elephant, Samuel would be in search of
plants and insects. Each could call himself expert in his own province,
and more than one rare botanical specimen, that to science was as great
a victory won as the conquest of a pair of ivory tusks, became the
doctor’s booty.
These two young men, moreover, never had occasion to save each other’s
lives, or to render any reciprocal service. Hence, an unalterable
friendship. Destiny sometimes bore them apart, but sympathy always
united them again.
Since their return to England they had been frequently separated by the
doctor’s distant expeditions; but, on his return, the latter never
failed to go, not to _ask_ for hospitality, but to bestow some weeks of
his presence at the home of his crony Dick.
The Scot talked of the past; the doctor busily prepared for the future.
The one looked back, the other forward. Hence, a restless spirit
personified in Ferguson; perfect calmness typified in Kennedy—such was
the contrast.
After his journey to the Thibet, the doctor had remained nearly two
years without hinting at new explorations; and Dick, supposing that his
friend’s instinct for travel and thirst for adventure had at length
died out, was perfectly enchanted. They would have ended badly, some
day or other, he thought to himself; no matter what experience one has
with men, one does not travel always with impunity among cannibals and
wild beasts. So, Kennedy besought the doctor to tie up his bark for
life, having done enough for science, and too much for the gratitude of
men.
The doctor contented himself with making no reply to this. He remained
absorbed in his own reflections, giving himself up to secret
calculations, passing his nights among heaps of figures, and making
experiments with the strangest-looking machinery, inexplicable to
everybody but himself. It could readily be guessed, though, that some
great thought was fermenting in his brain.
“What can he have been planning?” wondered Kennedy, when, in the month
of January, his friend quitted him to return to London.
He found out one morning when he looked into the _Daily Telegraph_.
“Merciful Heaven!” he exclaimed, “the lunatic! the madman! Cross Africa
in a balloon! Nothing but that was wanted to cap the climax! That’s
what he’s been bothering his wits about these two years past!”
Now, reader, substitute for all these exclamation points, as many
ringing thumps with a brawny fist upon the table, and you have some
idea of the manual exercise that Dick went through while he thus spoke.
When his confidential maid-of-all-work, the aged Elspeth, tried to
insinuate that the whole thing might be a hoax—
“Not a bit of it!” said he. “Don’t I know my man? Isn’t it just like
him? Travel through the air! There, now, he’s jealous of the eagles,
next! No! I warrant you, he’ll not do it! I’ll find a way to stop him!
He! why if they’d let him alone, he’d start some day for the moon!”
On that very evening Kennedy, half alarmed, and half exasperated, took
the train for London, where he arrived next morning.
Three-quarters of an hour later a cab deposited him at the door of the
doctor’s modest dwelling, in Soho Square, Greek Street. Forthwith he
bounded up the steps and announced his arrival with five good, hearty,
sounding raps at the door.
Ferguson opened, in person.
“Dick! you here?” he exclaimed, but with no great expression of
surprise, after all.
“Dick himself!” was the response.
“What, my dear boy, you at London, and this the mid-season of the
winter shooting?”
“Yes! here I am, at London!”
“And what have you come to town for?”
“To prevent the greatest piece of folly that ever was conceived.”
“Folly!” said the doctor.
“Is what this paper says, the truth?” rejoined Kennedy, holding out the
copy of the _Daily Telegraph_, mentioned above.
“Ah! that’s what you mean, is it? These newspapers are great tattlers!
But, sit down, my dear Dick.”
“No, I won’t sit down!—Then, you really intend to attempt this
journey?”
“Most certainly! all my preparations are getting along finely, and I—”
“Where are your traps? Let me have a chance at them! I’ll make them
fly! I’ll put your preparations in fine order.” And so saying, the
gallant Scot gave way to a genuine explosion of wrath.
“Come, be calm, my dear Dick!” resumed the doctor. “You’re angry at me
because I did not acquaint you with my new project.”
“He calls this his new project!”
“I have been very busy,” the doctor went on, without heeding the
interruption; “I have had so much to look after! But rest assured that
I should not have started without writing to you.”
“Oh, indeed! I’m highly honored.”
“Because it is my intention to take you with me.”
Upon this, the Scotchman gave a leap that a wild goat would not have
been ashamed of among his native crags.
“Ah! really, then, you want them to send us both to Bedlam!”
“I have counted positively upon you, my dear Dick, and I have picked
you out from all the rest.”
Kennedy stood speechless with amazement.
“After listening to me for ten minutes,” said the doctor, “you will
thank me!”
“Are you speaking seriously?”
“Very seriously.”
“And suppose that I refuse to go with you?”
“But you won’t refuse.”
“But, suppose that I were to refuse?”
“Well, I’d go alone.”
“Let us sit down,” said Kennedy, “and talk without excitement. The
moment you give up jesting about it, we can discuss the thing.”
“Let us discuss it, then, at breakfast, if you have no objections, my
dear Dick.”
The two friends took their seats opposite to each other, at a little
table with a plate of toast and a huge tea-urn before them.
“My dear Samuel,” said the sportsman, “your project is insane! it is
impossible! it has no resemblance to anything reasonable or
practicable!”
“That’s for us to find out when we shall have tried it!”
“But trying it is exactly what you ought not to attempt.”
“Why so, if you please?”
“Well, the risks, the difficulty of the thing.”
“As for difficulties,” replied Ferguson, in a serious tone, “they were
made to be overcome; as for risks and dangers, who can flatter himself
that he is to escape them? Every thing in life involves danger; it may
even be dangerous to sit down at one’s own table, or to put one’s hat
on one’s own head. Moreover, we must look upon what is to occur as
having already occurred, and see nothing but the present in the future,
for the future is but the present a little farther on.”
“There it is!” exclaimed Kennedy, with a shrug. “As great a fatalist as
ever!”
“Yes! but in the good sense of the word. Let us not trouble ourselves,
then, about what fate has in store for us, and let us not forget our
good old English proverb: ‘The man who was born to be hung will never
be drowned!’”
There was no reply to make, but that did not prevent Kennedy from
resuming a series of arguments which may be readily conjectured, but
which were too long for us to repeat.
“Well, then,” he said, after an hour’s discussion, “if you are
absolutely determined to make this trip across the African continent—if
it is necessary for your happiness, why not pursue the ordinary
routes?”
“Why?” ejaculated the doctor, growing animated. “Because, all attempts
to do so, up to this time, have utterly failed. Because, from Mungo
Park, assassinated on the Niger, to Vogel, who disappeared in the Wadai
country; from Oudney, who died at Murmur, and Clapperton, lost at
Sackatou, to the Frenchman Maizan, who was cut to pieces; from Major
Laing, killed by the Touaregs, to Roscher, from Hamburg, massacred in
the beginning of 1860, the names of victim after victim have been
inscribed on the lists of African martyrdom! Because, to contend
successfully against the elements; against hunger, and thirst, and
fever; against savage beasts, and still more savage men, is impossible!
Because, what cannot be done in one way, should be tried in another. In
fine, because what one cannot pass through directly in the middle, must
be passed by going to one side or overhead!”
“If passing over it were the only question!” interposed Kennedy; “but
passing high up in the air, doctor, there’s the rub!”
“Come, then,” said the doctor, “what have I to fear? You will admit
that I have taken my precautions in such manner as to be certain that
my balloon will not fall; but, should it disappoint me, I should find
myself on the ground in the normal conditions imposed upon other
explorers. But, my balloon will not deceive me, and we need make no
such calculations.”
“Yes, but you must take them into view.”
“No, Dick. I intend not to be separated from the balloon until I reach
the western coast of Africa. With it, every thing is possible; without
it, I fall back into the dangers and difficulties as well as the
natural obstacles that ordinarily attend such an expedition: with it,
neither heat, nor torrents, nor tempests, nor the simoom, nor unhealthy
climates, nor wild animals, nor savage men, are to be feared! If I feel
too hot, I can ascend; if too cold, I can come down. Should there be a
mountain, I can pass over it; a precipice, I can sweep across it; a
river, I can sail beyond it; a storm, I can rise away above it; a
torrent, I can skim it like a bird! I can advance without fatigue, I
can halt without need of repose! I can soar above the nascent cities! I
can speed onward with the rapidity of a tornado, sometimes at the
loftiest heights, sometimes only a hundred feet above the soil, while
the map of Africa unrolls itself beneath my gaze in the great atlas of
the world.”
Even the stubborn Kennedy began to feel moved, and yet the spectacle
thus conjured up before him gave him the vertigo. He riveted his eyes
upon the doctor with wonder and admiration, and yet with fear, for he
already felt himself swinging aloft in space.
“Come, come,” said he, at last. “Let us see, Samuel. Then you have
discovered the means of guiding a balloon?”
“Not by any means. That is a Utopian idea.”
“Then, you will go—”
“Whithersoever Providence wills; but, at all events, from east to
west.”
“Why so?”
“Because I expect to avail myself of the trade-winds, the direction of
which is always the same.”
“Ah! yes, indeed!” said Kennedy, reflecting; “the
trade-winds—yes—truly—one might—there’s something in that!”
“Something in it—yes, my excellent friend—there’s _every thing_ in it.
The English Government has placed a transport at my disposal, and three
or four vessels are to cruise off the western coast of Africa, about
the presumed period of my arrival. In three months, at most, I shall be
at Zanzibar, where I will inflate my balloon, and from that point we
shall launch ourselves.”
“We!” said Dick.
“Have you still a shadow of an objection to offer? Speak, friend
Kennedy.”
“An objection! I have a thousand; but among other things, tell me, if
you expect to see the country. If you expect to mount and descend at
pleasure, you cannot do so, without losing your gas. Up to this time no
other means have been devised, and it is this that has always prevented
long journeys in the air.”
“My dear Dick, I have only one word to answer—I shall not lose one
particle of gas.”
“And yet you can descend when you please?”
“I shall descend when I please.”
“And how will you do that?”
“Ah, ha! therein lies my secret, friend Dick. Have faith, and let my
device be yours—‘Excelsior!’”
“‘Excelsior’ be it then,” said the sportsman, who did not understand a
word of Latin.
But he made up his mind to oppose his friend’s departure by all means
in his power, and so pretended to give in, at the same time keeping on
the watch. As for the doctor, he went on diligently with his
preparations.
CHAPTER FOURTH.
African Explorations.—Barth, Richardson, Overweg, Werne, Brun-Rollet,
Penney, Andrea, Debono, Miani, Guillaume Lejean, Bruce, Krapf and
Rebmann, Maizan, Roscher, Burton and Speke.
The aërial line which Dr. Ferguson counted upon following had not been
chosen at random; his point of departure had been carefully studied,
and it was not without good cause that he had resolved to ascend at the
island of Zanzibar. This island, lying near to the eastern coast of
Africa, is in the sixth degree of south latitude, that is to say, four
hundred and thirty geographical miles below the equator.
From this island the latest expedition, sent by way of the great lakes
to explore the sources of the Nile, had just set out.
But it would be well to indicate what explorations Dr. Ferguson hoped
to link together. The two principal ones were those of Dr. Barth in
1849, and of Lieutenants Burton and Speke in 1858.
Dr. Barth is a Hamburger, who obtained permission for himself and for
his countryman Overweg to join the expedition of the Englishman
Richardson. The latter was charged with a mission in the Soudan.
This vast region is situated between the fifteenth and tenth degrees of
north latitude; that is to say, that, in order to approach it, the
explorer must penetrate fifteen hundred miles into the interior of
Africa.
Until then, the country in question had been known only through the
journeys of Denham, of Clapperton, and of Oudney, made from 1822 to
1824. Richardson, Barth, and Overweg, jealously anxious to push their
investigations farther, arrived at Tunis and Tripoli, like their
predecessors, and got as far as Mourzouk, the capital of Fezzan.
They then abandoned the perpendicular line, and made a sharp turn
westward toward Ghât, guided, with difficulty, by the Touaregs. After a
thousand scenes of pillage, of vexation, and attacks by armed forces,
their caravan arrived, in October, at the vast oasis of Asben. Dr.
Barth separated from his companions, made an excursion to the town of
Aghades, and rejoined the expedition, which resumed its march on the
12th of December. At length it reached the province of Damerghou; there
the three travellers parted, and Barth took the road to Kano, where he
arrived by dint of perseverance, and after paying considerable tribute.
In spite of an intense fever, he quitted that place on the 7th of
March, accompanied by a single servant. The principal aim of his
journey was to reconnoitre Lake Tchad, from which he was still three
hundred and fifty miles distant. He therefore advanced toward the east,
and reached the town of Zouricolo, in the Bornou country, which is the
core of the great central empire of Africa. There he heard of the death
of Richardson, who had succumbed to fatigue and privation. He next
arrived at Kouka, the capital of Bornou, on the borders of the lake.
Finally, at the end of three weeks, on the 14th of April, twelve months
after having quitted Tripoli, he reached the town of Ngornou.
We find him again setting forth on the 29th of March, 1851, with
Overweg, to visit the kingdom of Adamaoua, to the south of the lake,
and from there he pushed on as far as the town of Yola, a little below
nine degrees north latitude. This was the extreme southern limit
reached by that daring traveller.
He returned in the month of August to Kouka; from there he successively
traversed the Mandara, Barghimi, and Klanem countries, and reached his
extreme limit in the east, the town of Masena, situated at seventeen
degrees twenty minutes west longitude.
On the 25th of November, 1852, after the death of Overweg, his last
companion, he plunged into the west, visited Sockoto, crossed the
Niger, and finally reached Timbuctoo, where he had to languish, during
eight long months, under vexations inflicted upon him by the sheik, and
all kinds of ill-treatment and wretchedness. But the presence of a
Christian in the city could not long be tolerated, and the Foullans
threatened to besiege it. The doctor, therefore, left it on the 17th of
March, 1854, and fled to the frontier, where he remained for
thirty-three days in the most abject destitution. He then managed to
get back to Kano in November, thence to Kouka, where he resumed
Denham’s route after four months’ delay. He regained Tripoli toward the
close of August, 1855, and arrived in London on the 6th of September,
the only survivor of his party.
Such was the venturesome journey of Dr. Barth.
Dr. Ferguson carefully noted the fact, that he had stopped at four
degrees north latitude and seventeen degrees west longitude.
Now let us see what Lieutenants Burton and Speke accomplished in
Eastern Africa.
The various expeditions that had ascended the Nile could never manage
to reach the mysterious source of that river. According to the
narrative of the German doctor, Ferdinand Werne, the expedition
attempted in 1840, under the auspices of Mehemet Ali, stopped at
Gondokoro, between the fourth and fifth parallels of north latitude.
In 1855, Brun-Rollet, a native of Savoy, appointed consul for Sardinia
in Eastern Soudan, to take the place of Vaudey, who had just died, set
out from Karthoum, and, under the name of Yacoub the merchant, trading
in gums and ivory, got as far as Belenia, beyond the fourth degree, but
had to return in ill-health to Karthoum, where he died in 1857.
Neither Dr. Penney—the head of the Egyptian medical service, who, in a
small steamer, penetrated one degree beyond Gondokoro, and then came
back to die of exhaustion at Karthoum—nor Miani, the Venetian, who,
turning the cataracts below Gondokoro, reached the second parallel—nor
the Maltese trader, Andrea Debono, who pushed his journey up the Nile
still farther—could work their way beyond the apparently impassable
limit.
In 1859, M. Guillaume Lejean, intrusted with a mission by the French
Government, reached Karthoum by way of the Red Sea, and embarked upon
the Nile with a retinue of twenty-one hired men and twenty soldiers,
but he could not get past Gondokoro, and ran extreme risk of his life
among the negro tribes, who were in full revolt. The expedition
directed by M. d’Escayrac de Lauture made an equally unsuccessful
attempt to reach the famous sources of the Nile.
This fatal limit invariably brought every traveller to a halt. In
ancient times, the ambassadors of Nero reached the ninth degree of
latitude, but in eighteen centuries only from five to six degrees, or
from three hundred to three hundred and sixty geographical miles, were
gained.
Many travellers endeavored to reach the sources of the Nile by taking
their point of departure on the eastern coast of Africa.
Between 1768 and 1772 the Scotch traveller, Bruce, set out from
Massowah, a port of Abyssinia, traversed the Tigre, visited the ruins
of Axum, saw the sources of the Nile where they did not exist, and
obtained no serious result.
In 1844, Dr. Krapf, an Anglican missionary, founded an establishment at
Monbaz, on the coast of Zanguebar, and, in company with the Rev. Dr.
Rebmann, discovered two mountain-ranges three hundred miles from the
coast. These were the mountains of Kilimandjaro and Kenia, which
Messrs. de Heuglin and Thornton have partly scaled so recently.
In 1845, Maizan, the French explorer, disembarked, alone, at Bagamayo,
directly opposite to Zanzibar, and got as far as Deje-la-Mhora, where
the chief caused him to be put to death in the most cruel torment.
In 1859, in the month of August, the young traveller, Roscher, from
Hamburg, set out with a caravan of Arab merchants, reached Lake Nyassa,
and was there assassinated while he slept.
Finally, in 1857, Lieutenants Burton and Speke, both officers in the
Bengal army, were sent by the London Geographical Society to explore
the great African lakes, and on the 17th of June they quitted Zanzibar,
and plunged directly into the west.
After four months of incredible suffering, their baggage having been
pillaged, and their attendants beaten and slain, they arrived at Kazeh,
a sort of central rendezvous for traders and caravans. They were in the
midst of the country of the Moon, and there they collected some
precious documents concerning the manners, government, religion, fauna,
and flora of the region. They next made for the first of the great
lakes, the one named Tanganayika, situated between the third and eighth
degrees of south latitude. They reached it on the 14th of February,
1858, and visited the various tribes residing on its banks, the most of
whom are cannibals.
They departed again on the 26th of May, and reentered Kazeh on the 20th
of June. There Burton, who was completely worn out, lay ill for several
months, during which time Speke made a push to the northward of more
than three hundred miles, going as far as Lake Okeracua, which he came
in sight of on the 3d of August; but he could descry only the opening
of it at latitude two degrees thirty minutes.
He reached Kazeh, on his return, on the 25th of August, and, in company
with Burton, again took up the route to Zanzibar, where they arrived in
the month of March in the following year. These two daring explorers
then reembarked for England; and the Geographical Society of Paris
decreed them its annual prize medal.
Dr. Ferguson carefully remarked that they had not gone beyond the
second degree of south latitude, nor the twenty-ninth of east
longitude.
The problem, therefore, was how to link the explorations of Burton and
Speke with those of Dr. Barth, since to do so was to undertake to
traverse an extent of more than twelve degrees of territory.
CHAPTER FIFTH.
Kennedy’s Dreams.—Articles and Pronouns in the Plural.—Dick’s
Insinuations.—A Promenade over the Map of Africa.—What is contained
between two Points of the Compass.—Expeditions now on foot.—Speke and
Grant.—Krapf, De Decken, and De Heuglin.
Dr. Ferguson energetically pushed the preparations for his departure,
and in person superintended the construction of his balloon, with
certain modifications; in regard to which he observed the most absolute
silence. For a long time past he had been applying himself to the study
of the Arab language and the various Mandingoe idioms, and, thanks to
his talents as a polyglot, he had made rapid progress.
In the mean while his friend, the sportsman, never let him out of his
sight—afraid, no doubt, that the doctor might take his departure,
without saying a word to anybody. On this subject, he regaled him with
the most persuasive arguments, which, however, did _not_ persuade
Samuel Ferguson, and wasted his breath in pathetic entreaties, by which
the latter seemed to be but slightly moved. In fine, Dick felt that the
doctor was slipping through his fingers.
The poor Scot was really to be pitied. He could not look upon the azure
vault without a sombre terror: when asleep, he felt oscillations that
made his head reel; and every night he had visions of being swung aloft
at immeasurable heights.
We must add that, during these fearful nightmares, he once or twice
fell out of bed. His first care then was to show Ferguson a severe
contusion that he had received on the cranium. “And yet,” he would add,
with warmth, “that was at the height of only three feet—not an inch
more—and such a bump as this! Only think, then!”
This insinuation, full of sad meaning as it was, did not seem to touch
the doctor’s heart.
“We’ll not fall,” was his invariable reply.
“But, still, suppose that we _were_ to fall!”
“We will _not_ fall!”
This was decisive, and Kennedy had nothing more to say.
What particularly exasperated Dick was, that the doctor seemed
completely to lose sight of his personality—of his—Kennedy’s—and to
look upon him as irrevocably destined to become his aërial companion.
Not even the shadow of a doubt was ever suggested; and Samuel made an
intolerable misuse of the first person plural:
“‘We’ are getting along; ‘we’ shall be ready on the——; ‘we’ shall start
on the——,” etc., etc.
And then there was the singular possessive adjective:
“‘Our’ balloon; ‘our’ car; ‘our’ expedition.”
And the same in the plural, too:
“‘Our’ preparations; ‘our’ discoveries; ‘our’ ascensions.”
Dick shuddered at them, although he was determined not to go; but he
did not want to annoy his friend. Let us also disclose the fact that,
without knowing exactly why himself, he had sent to Edinburgh for a
certain selection of heavy clothing, and his best hunting-gear and
fire-arms.
One day, after having admitted that, with an overwhelming run of
good-luck, there _might_ be one chance of success in a thousand, he
pretended to yield entirely to the doctor’s wishes; but, in order to
still put off the journey, he opened the most varied series of
subterfuges. He threw himself back upon questioning the utility of the
expedition—its opportuneness, etc. This discovery of the sources of the
Nile, was it likely to be of any use?—Would one have really labored for
the welfare of humanity?—When, after all, the African tribes should
have been civilized, would they be any happier?—Were folks certain that
civilization had not its chosen abode there rather than in
Europe?—Perhaps!—And then, couldn’t one wait a little longer?—The trip
across Africa would certainly be accomplished some day, and in a less
hazardous manner.—In another month, or in six months before the year
was over, some explorer would undoubtedly come in—etc., etc.
These hints produced an effect exactly opposite to what was desired or
intended, and the doctor trembled with impatience.
“Are you willing, then, wretched Dick—are you willing, false
friend—that this glory should belong to another? Must I then be untrue
to my past history; recoil before obstacles that are not serious;
requite with cowardly hesitation what both the English Government and
the Royal Society of London have done for me?”
“But,” resumed Kennedy, who made great use of that conjunction.
“But,” said the doctor, “are you not aware that my journey is to
compete with the success of the expeditions now on foot? Don’t you know
that fresh explorers are advancing toward the centre of Africa?”
“Still—”
“Listen to me, Dick, and cast your eyes over that map.”
Dick glanced over it, with resignation.
“Now, ascend the course of the Nile.”
“I have ascended it,” replied the Scotchman, with docility.
“Stop at Gondokoro.”
“I am there.”
And Kennedy thought to himself how easy such a trip was—on the map!
“Now, take one of the points of these dividers and let it rest upon
that place beyond which the most daring explorers have scarcely gone.”
“I have done so.”
“And now look along the coast for the island of Zanzibar, in latitude
six degrees south.”
“I have it.”
“Now, follow the same parallel and arrive at Kazeh.”
“I have done so.”
“Run up again along the thirty-third degree of longitude to the opening
of Lake Oukéréoué, at the point where Lieutenant Speke had to halt.”
“I am there; a little more, and I should have tumbled into the lake.”
“Very good! Now, do you know what we have the right to suppose,
according to the information given by the tribes that live along its
shores?”
“I haven’t the least idea.”
“Why, that this lake, the lower extremity of which is in two degrees
and thirty minutes, must extend also two degrees and a half above the
equator.”
“Really!”
“Well from this northern extremity there flows a stream which must
necessarily join the Nile, if it be not the Nile itself.”
“That is, indeed, curious.”
“Then, let the other point of your dividers rest upon that extremity of
Lake Oukéréoué.”
“It is done, friend Ferguson.”
“Now, how many degrees can you count between the two points?”
“Scarcely two.”
“And do you know what that means, Dick?”
“Not the least in the world.”
“Why, that makes scarcely one hundred and twenty miles—in other words,
a nothing.”
“Almost nothing, Samuel.”
“Well, do you know what is taking place at this moment?”
“No, upon my honor, I do not.”
“Very well, then, I’ll tell you. The Geographical Society regard as
very important the exploration of this lake of which Speke caught a
glimpse. Under their auspices, Lieutenant (now Captain) Speke has
associated with him Captain Grant, of the army in India; they have put
themselves at the head of a numerous and well-equipped expedition;
their mission is to ascend the lake and return to Gondokoro; they have
received a subsidy of more than five thousand pounds, and the Governor
of the Cape of Good Hope has placed Hottentot soldiers at their
disposal; they set out from Zanzibar at the close of October, 1860. In
the mean while John Petherick, the English consul at the city of
Karthoum, has received about seven hundred pounds from the foreign
office; he is to equip a steamer at Karthoum, stock it with sufficient
provisions, and make his way to Gondokoro; there, he will await Captain
Speke’s caravan, and be able to replenish its supplies to some extent.”
“Well planned,” said Kennedy.
“You can easily see, then, that time presses if we are to take part in
these exploring labors. And that is not all, since, while some are thus
advancing with sure steps to the discovery of the sources of the Nile,
others are penetrating to the very heart of Africa.”
“On foot?” said Kennedy.
“Yes, on foot,” rejoined the doctor, without noticing the insinuation.
“Doctor Krapf proposes to push forward, in the west, by way of the
Djob, a river lying under the equator. Baron de Decken has already set
out from Monbaz, has reconnoitred the mountains of Kenia and
Kilimandjaro, and is now plunging in toward the centre.”
“But all this time on foot?”
“On foot or on mules.”
“Exactly the same, so far as I am concerned,” ejaculated Kennedy.
“Lastly,” resumed the doctor, “M. de Heuglin, the Austrian vice-consul
at Karthoum, has just organized a very important expedition, the first
aim of which is to search for the traveller Vogel, who, in 1853, was
sent into the Soudan to associate himself with the labors of Dr. Barth.
In 1856, he quitted Bornou, and determined to explore the unknown
country that lies between Lake Tchad and Darfur. Nothing has been seen
of him since that time. Letters that were received in Alexandria, in
1860, said that he was killed at the order of the King of Wadai; but
other letters, addressed by Dr. Hartmann to the traveller’s father,
relate that, according to the recital of a felatah of Bornou, Vogel was
merely held as a prisoner at Wara. All hope is not then lost. Hence, a
committee has been organized under the presidency of the Regent of
Saxe-Cogurg-Gotha; my friend Petermann is its secretary; a national
subscription has provided for the expense of the expedition, whose
strength has been increased by the voluntary accession of several
learned men, and M. de Heuglin set out from Massowah, in the month of
June. While engaged in looking for Vogel, he is also to explore all the
country between the Nile and Lake Tchad, that is to say, to knit
together the operations of Captain Speke and those of Dr. Barth, and
then Africa will have been traversed from east to west.”[1]
[1] After the departure of Dr. Ferguson, it was ascertained that M. de
Heuglin, owing to some disagreement, took a route different from the
one assigned to his expedition, the command of the latter having been
transferred to Mr. Muntzinger.
“Well,” said the canny Scot, “since every thing is getting on so well,
what’s the use of our going down there?”
Dr. Ferguson made no reply, but contented himself with a significant
shrug of the shoulders.
CHAPTER SIXTH.
A Servant—match him!—He can see the Satellites of Jupiter.—Dick and Joe
hard at it.—Doubt and Faith.—The Weighing Ceremony.—Joe and
Wellington.—He gets a Half-crown.
Dr. Ferguson had a servant who answered with alacrity to the name of
Joe. He was an excellent fellow, who testified the most absolute
confidence in his master, and the most unlimited devotion to his
interests, even anticipating his wishes and orders, which were always
intelligently executed. In fine, he was a Caleb without the growling,
and a perfect pattern of constant good-humor. Had he been made on
purpose for the place, it could not have been better done. Ferguson put
himself entirely in his hands, so far as the ordinary details of
existence were concerned, and he did well. Incomparable, whole-souled
Joe! a servant who orders your dinner; who likes what you like; who
packs your trunk, without forgetting your socks or your linen; who has
charge of your keys and your secrets, and takes no advantage of all
this!
But then, what a man the doctor was in the eyes of this worthy Joe!
With what respect and what confidence the latter received all his
decisions! When Ferguson had spoken, he would be a fool who should
attempt to question the matter. Every thing he thought was exactly
right; every thing he said, the perfection of wisdom; every thing he
ordered to be done, quite feasible; all that he undertook, practicable;
all that he accomplished, admirable. You might have cut Joe to
pieces—not an agreeable operation, to be sure—and yet he would not have
altered his opinion of his master.
So, when the doctor conceived the project of crossing Africa through
the air, for Joe the thing was already done; obstacles no longer
existed; from the moment when the doctor had made up his mind to start,
he had arrived—along with his faithful attendant, too, for the noble
fellow knew, without a word uttered about it, that he would be one of
the party.
Moreover, he was just the man to render the greatest service by his
intelligence and his wonderful agility. Had the occasion arisen to name
a professor of gymnastics for the monkeys in the Zoological Garden (who
are smart enough, by-the-way!), Joe would certainly have received the
appointment. Leaping, climbing, almost flying—these were all sport to
him.
If Ferguson was the head and Kennedy the arm, Joe was to be the right
hand of the expedition. He had, already, accompanied his master on
several journeys, and had a smattering of science appropriate to his
condition and style of mind, but he was especially remarkable for a
sort of mild philosophy, a charming turn of optimism. In his sight
every thing was easy, logical, natural, and, consequently, he could see
no use in complaining or grumbling.
Among other gifts, he possessed a strength and range of vision that
were perfectly surprising. He enjoyed, in common with Moestlin,
Kepler’s professor, the rare faculty of distinguishing the satellites
of Jupiter with the naked eye, and of counting fourteen of the stars in
the group of Pleiades, the remotest of them being only of the ninth
magnitude. He presumed none the more for that; on the contrary, he made
his bow to you, at a distance, and when occasion arose he bravely knew
how to use his eyes.
With such profound faith as Joe felt in the doctor, it is not to be
wondered at that incessant discussions sprang up between him and
Kennedy, without any lack of respect to the latter, however.
One doubted, the other believed; one had a prudent foresight, the other
blind confidence. The doctor, however, vibrated between doubt and
confidence; that is to say, he troubled his head with neither one nor
the other.
“Well, Mr. Kennedy,” Joe would say.
“Well, my boy?”
“The moment’s at hand. It seems that we are to sail for the moon.”
“You mean the Mountains of the Moon, which are not quite so far off.
But, never mind, one trip is just as dangerous as the other!”
“Dangerous! What! with a man like Dr. Ferguson?”
“I don’t want to spoil your illusions, my good Joe; but this
undertaking of his is nothing more nor less than the act of a madman.
He won’t go, though!”
“He won’t go, eh? Then you haven’t seen his balloon at Mitchell’s
factory in the Borough?”
“I’ll take precious good care to keep away from it!”
“Well, you’ll lose a fine sight, sir. What a splendid thing it is! What
a pretty shape! What a nice car! How snug we’ll feel in it!”
“Then you really think of going with your master?”
“I?” answered Joe, with an accent of profound conviction. “Why, I’d go
with him wherever he pleases! Who ever heard of such a thing? Leave him
to go off alone, after we’ve been all over the world together! Who
would help him, when he was tired? Who would give him a hand in
climbing over the rocks? Who would attend him when he was sick? No, Mr.
Kennedy, Joe will always stick to the doctor!”
“You’re a fine fellow, Joe!”
“But, then, you’re coming with us!”
“Oh! certainly,” said Kennedy; “that is to say, I will go with you up
to the last moment, to prevent Samuel even then from being guilty of
such an act of folly! I will follow him as far as Zanzibar, so as to
stop him there, if possible.”
“You’ll stop nothing at all, Mr. Kennedy, with all respect to you, sir.
My master is no hare-brained person; he takes a long time to think over
what he means to do, and then, when he once gets started, the Evil One
himself couldn’t make him give it up.”
“Well, we’ll see about that.”
“Don’t flatter yourself, sir—but then, the main thing is, to have you
with us. For a hunter like you, sir, Africa’s a great country. So,
either way, you won’t be sorry for the trip.”
“No, that’s a fact, I shan’t be sorry for it, if I can get this crazy
man to give up his scheme.”
“By-the-way,” said Joe, “you know that the weighing comes off to-day.”
“The weighing—what weighing?”
“Why, my master, and you, and I, are all to be weighed to-day!”
“What! like horse-jockeys?”
“Yes, like jockeys. Only, never fear, you won’t be expected to make
yourself lean, if you’re found to be heavy. You’ll go as you are.”
“Well, I can tell you, I am not going to let myself be weighed,” said
Kennedy, firmly.
“But, sir, it seems that the doctor’s machine requires it.”
“Well, his machine will have to do without it.”
“Humph! and suppose that it couldn’t go up, then?”
“Egad! that’s all I want!”
“Come! come, Mr. Kennedy! My master will be sending for us directly.”
“I shan’t go.”
“Oh! now, you won’t vex the doctor in that way!”
“Aye! that I will.”
“Well!” said Joe with a laugh, “you say that because he’s not here; but
when he says to your face, ‘Dick!’ (with all respect to you, sir,)
‘Dick, I want to know exactly how much you weigh,’ you’ll go, I warrant
it.”
“No, I will _not_ go!”
At this moment the doctor entered his study, where this discussion had
been taking place; and, as he came in, cast a glance at Kennedy, who
did not feel altogether at his ease.
“Dick,” said the doctor, “come with Joe; I want to know how much you
both weigh.”
“But—”
“You may keep your hat on. Come!” And Kennedy went.
They repaired in company to the workshop of the Messrs. Mitchell, where
one of those so-called “Roman” scales was in readiness. It was
necessary, by the way, for the doctor to know the weight of his
companions, so as to fix the equilibrium of his balloon; so he made
Dick get up on the platform of the scales. The latter, without making
any resistance, said, in an undertone:
“Oh! well, that doesn’t bind me to any thing.”
“One hundred and fifty-three pounds,” said the doctor, noting it down
on his tablets.
“Am I too heavy?”
“Why, no, Mr. Kennedy!” said Joe; “and then, you know, I am light to
make up for it.”
So saying, Joe, with enthusiasm, took his place on the scales, and very
nearly upset them in his ready haste. He struck the attitude of
Wellington where he is made to ape Achilles, at Hyde-Park entrance, and
was superb in it, without the shield.
“One hundred and twenty pounds,” wrote the doctor.
“Ah! ha!” said Joe, with a smile of satisfaction And why did he smile?
He never could tell himself.
“It’s my turn now,” said Ferguson—and he put down one hundred and
thirty-five pounds to his own account.
“All three of us,” said he, “do not weigh much more than four hundred
pounds.”
“But, sir,” said Joe, “if it was necessary for your expedition, I could
make myself thinner by twenty pounds, by not eating so much.”
“Useless, my boy!” replied the doctor. “You may eat as much as you
like, and here’s half-a-crown to buy you the ballast.”
CHAPTER SEVENTH.
Geometrical Details.—Calculation of the Capacity of the Balloon.—The
Double Receptacle.—The Covering.—The Car.—The Mysterious Apparatus.—The
Provisions and Stores.—The Final Summing up.
Dr. Ferguson had long been engaged upon the details of his expedition.
It is easy to comprehend that the balloon—that marvellous vehicle which
was to convey him through the air—was the constant object of his
solicitude.
At the outset, in order not to give the balloon too ponderous
dimensions, he had decided to fill it with hydrogen gas, which is
fourteen and a half times lighter than common air. The production of
this gas is easy, and it has given the greatest satisfaction hitherto
in aerostatic experiments.
The doctor, according to very accurate calculations, found that,
including the articles indispensable to his journey and his apparatus,
he should have to carry a weight of 4,000 pounds; therefore he had to
find out what would be the ascensional force of a balloon capable of
raising such a weight, and, consequently, what would be its capacity.
A weight of four thousand pounds is represented by a displacement of
the air amounting to forty-four thousand eight hundred and forty-seven
cubic feet; or, in other words, forty-four thousand eight hundred and
forty-seven cubic feet of air weigh about four thousand pounds.
By giving the balloon these cubic dimensions, and filling it with
hydrogen gas, instead of common air—the former being fourteen and a
half times lighter and weighing therefore only two hundred and
seventy-six pounds—a difference of three thousand seven hundred and
twenty-four pounds in equilibrium is produced; and it is this
difference between the weight of the gas contained in the balloon and
the weight of the surrounding atmosphere that constitutes the
ascensional force of the former.
However, were the forty-four thousand eight hundred and forty-seven
cubic feet of gas of which we speak, all introduced into the balloon,
it would be entirely filled; but that would not do, because, as the
balloon continued to mount into the more rarefied layers of the
atmosphere, the gas within would dilate, and soon burst the cover
containing it. Balloons, then, are usually only two-thirds filled.
But the doctor, in carrying out a project known only to himself,
resolved to fill his balloon only one-half; and, since he had to carry
forty-four thousand eight hundred and forty-seven cubic feet of gas, to
give his balloon nearly double capacity he arranged it in that
elongated, oval shape which has come to be preferred. The horizontal
diameter was fifty feet, and the vertical diameter seventy-five feet.
He thus obtained a spheroid, the capacity of which amounted, in round
numbers, to ninety thousand cubic feet.
Could Dr. Ferguson have used two balloons, his chances of success would
have been increased; for, should one burst in the air, he could, by
throwing out ballast, keep himself up with the other. But the
management of two balloons would, necessarily, be very difficult, in
view of the problem how to keep them both at an equal ascensional
force.
After having pondered the matter carefully, Dr. Ferguson, by an
ingenious arrangement, combined the advantages of two balloons, without
incurring their inconveniences. He constructed two of different sizes,
and inclosed the smaller in the larger one. His external balloon, which
had the dimensions given above, contained a less one of the same shape,
which was only forty-five feet in horizontal, and sixty-eight feet in
vertical diameter. The capacity of this interior balloon was only
sixty-seven thousand cubic feet: it was to float in the fluid
surrounding it. A valve opened from one balloon into the other, and
thus enabled the aëronaut to communicate with both.
This arrangement offered the advantage, that if gas had to be let off,
so as to descend, that which was in the outer balloon would go first;
and, were it completely emptied, the smaller one would still remain
intact. The outer envelope might then be cast off as a useless
encumbrance; and the second balloon, left free to itself, would not
offer the same hold to the currents of air as a half-inflated one must
needs present.
Moreover, in case of an accident happening to the outside balloon, such
as getting torn, for instance, the other would remain intact.
The balloons were made of a strong but light Lyons silk, coated with
gutta percha. This gummy, resinous substance is absolutely water-proof,
and also resists acids and gas perfectly. The silk was doubled, at the
upper extremity of the oval, where most of the strain would come.
Such an envelope as this could retain the inflating fluid for any
length of time. It weighed half a pound per nine square feet. Hence the
surface of the outside balloon being about eleven thousand six hundred
square feet, its envelope weighed six hundred and fifty pounds. The
envelope of the second or inner balloon, having nine thousand two
hundred square feet of surface, weighed only about five hundred and ten
pounds, or say eleven hundred and sixty pounds for both.
The network that supported the car was made of very strong hempen cord,
and the two valves were the object of the most minute and careful
attention, as the rudder of a ship would be.
The car, which was of a circular form and fifteen feet in diameter, was
made of wicker-work, strengthened with a slight covering of iron, and
protected below by a system of elastic springs, to deaden the shock of
collision. Its weight, along with that of the network, did not exceed
two hundred and fifty pounds.
In addition to the above, the doctor caused to be constructed two
sheet-iron chests two lines in thickness. These were connected by means
of pipes furnished with stopcocks. He joined to these a spiral, two
inches in diameter, which terminated in two branch pieces of unequal
length, the longer of which, however, was twenty-five feet in height
and the shorter only fifteen feet.
These sheet-iron chests were embedded in the car in such a way as to
take up the least possible amount of space. The spiral, which was not
to be adjusted until some future moment, was packed up, separately,
along with a very strong Buntzen electric battery. This apparatus had
been so ingeniously combined that it did not weigh more than seven
hundred pounds, even including twenty-five gallons of water in another
receptacle.
The instruments provided for the journey consisted of two barometers,
two thermometers, two compasses, a sextant, two chronometers, an
artificial horizon, and an altazimuth, to throw out the height of
distant and inaccessible objects.
The Greenwich Observatory had placed itself at the doctor’s disposal.
The latter, however, did not intend to make experiments in physics; he
merely wanted to be able to know in what direction he was passing, and
to determine the position of the principal rivers, mountains, and
towns.
He also provided himself with three thoroughly tested iron anchors, and
a light but strong silk ladder fifty feet in length.
He at the same time carefully weighed his stores of provision, which
consisted of tea, coffee, biscuit, salted meat, and _pemmican_, a
preparation which comprises many nutritive elements in a small space.
Besides a sufficient stock of pure brandy, he arranged two water-tanks,
each of which contained twenty-two gallons.
The consumption of these articles would necessarily, little by little,
diminish the weight to be sustained, for it must be remembered that the
equilibrium of a balloon floating in the atmosphere is extremely
sensitive. The loss of an almost insignificant weight suffices to
produce a very noticeable displacement.
Nor did the doctor forget an awning to shelter the car, nor the
coverings and blankets that were to be the bedding of the journey, nor
some fowling pieces and rifles, with their requisite supply of powder
and ball.
Here is the summing up of his various items, and their weight, as he
computed it:
Ferguson 135 pounds
Kennedy 153 ”
Joe 120 ”
Weight of the outside balloon 650 ”
Weight of the second balloon 510 ”
Car and network 280 ”
Anchors, instruments, awnings, and sundry
utensils, guns, coverings, etc. 190 ”
Meat, pemmican, biscuits, tea, coffee, brandy 386 ”
Water 400 ”
Apparatus 700 ”
Weight of the hydrogen 276 ”
Ballast 200 ”
—————
4,000 pounds
Such were the items of the four thousand pounds that Dr. Ferguson
proposed to carry up with him. He took only two hundred pounds of
ballast for “unforeseen emergencies,” as he remarked, since otherwise
he did not expect to use any, thanks to the peculiarity of his
apparatus.
CHAPTER EIGHTH.
Joe’s Importance.—The Commander of the Resolute.—Kennedy’s
Arsenal.—Mutual Amenities.—The Farewell Dinner.—Departure on the 21st
of February.—The Doctor’s Scientific
Sessions.—Duveyrier.—Livingstone.—Details of the Aerial Voyage.—Kennedy
silenced.
About the 10th of February, the preparations were pretty well
completed; and the balloons, firmly secured, one within the other, were
altogether finished. They had been subjected to a powerful pneumatic
pressure in all parts, and the test gave excellent evidence of their
solidity and of the care applied in their construction.
Joe hardly knew what he was about, with delight. He trotted incessantly
to and fro between his home in Greek Street, and the Mitchell
establishment, always full of business, but always in the highest
spirits, giving details of the affair to people who did not even ask
him, so proud was he, above all things, of being permitted to accompany
his master. I have even a shrewd suspicion that what with showing the
balloon, explaining the plans and views of the doctor, giving folks a
glimpse of the latter, through a half-opened window, or pointing him
out as he passed along the streets, the clever scamp earned a few
half-crowns, but we must not find fault with him for that. He had as
much right as anybody else to speculate upon the admiration and
curiosity of his contemporaries.
On the 16th of February, the _Resolute_ cast anchor near Greenwich. She
was a screw propeller of eight hundred tons, a fast sailer, and the
very vessel that had been sent out to the polar regions, to revictual
the last expedition of Sir James Ross. Her commander, Captain Bennet,
had the name of being a very amiable person, and he took a particular
interest in the doctor’s expedition, having been one of that
gentleman’s admirers for a long time. Bennet was rather a man of
science than a man of war, which did not, however, prevent his vessel
from carrying four carronades, that had never hurt any body, to be
sure, but had performed the most pacific duty in the world.
The hold of the _Resolute_ was so arranged as to find a stowing-place
for the balloon. The latter was shipped with the greatest precaution on
the 18th of February, and was then carefully deposited at the bottom of
the vessel in such a way as to prevent accident. The car and its
accessories, the anchors, the cords, the supplies, the water-tanks,
which were to be filled on arriving, all were embarked and put away
under Ferguson’s own eyes.
Ten tons of sulphuric acid and ten tons of iron filings, were put on
board for the future production of the hydrogen gas. The quantity was
more than enough, but it was well to be provided against accident. The
apparatus to be employed in manufacturing the gas, including some
thirty empty casks, was also stowed away in the hold.
These various preparations were terminated on the 18th of February, in
the evening. Two state-rooms, comfortably fitted up, were ready for the
reception of Dr. Ferguson and his friend Kennedy. The latter, all the
while swearing that he would not go, went on board with a regular
arsenal of hunting weapons, among which were two double-barrelled
breech-loading fowling-pieces, and a rifle that had withstood every
test, of the make of Purdey, Moore & Dickson, at Edinburgh. With such a
weapon a marksman would find no difficulty in lodging a bullet in the
eye of a chamois at the distance of two thousand paces. Along with
these implements, he had two of Colt’s six-shooters, for unforeseen
emergencies. His powder-case, his cartridge-pouch, his lead, and his
bullets, did not exceed a certain weight prescribed by the doctor.
The three travellers got themselves to rights on board during the
working-hours of February 19th. They were received with much
distinction by the captain and his officers, the doctor continuing as
reserved as ever, and thinking of nothing but his expedition. Dick
seemed a good deal moved, but was unwilling to betray it; while Joe was
fairly dancing and breaking out in laughable remarks. The worthy fellow
soon became the jester and merry-andrew of the boatswain’s mess, where
a berth had been kept for him.
On the 20th, a grand farewell dinner was given to Dr. Ferguson and
Kennedy by the Royal Geographical Society. Commander Bennet and his
officers were present at the entertainment, which was signalized by
copious libations and numerous toasts. Healths were drunk, in
sufficient abundance to guarantee all the guests a lifetime of
centuries. Sir Francis M——presided, with restrained but dignified
feeling.
To his own supreme confusion, Dick Kennedy came in for a large share in
the jovial felicitations of the night. After having drunk to the
“intrepid Ferguson, the glory of England,” they had to drink to “the no
less courageous Kennedy, his daring companion.”
Dick blushed a good deal, and that passed for modesty; whereupon the
applause redoubled, and Dick blushed again.
A message from the Queen arrived while they were at dessert. Her
Majesty offered her compliments to the two travellers, and expressed
her wishes for their safe and successful journey. This, of course,
rendered imperative fresh toasts to “Her most gracious Majesty.”
At midnight, after touching farewells and warm shaking of hands, the
guests separated.
The boats of the _Resolute_ were in waiting at the stairs of
Westminster Bridge. The captain leaped in, accompanied by his officers
and passengers, and the rapid current of the Thames, aiding the strong
arms of the rowers, bore them swiftly to Greenwich. In an hour’s time
all were asleep on board.
The next morning, February 21st, at three o’clock, the furnaces began
to roar; at five, the anchors were weighed, and the _Resolute_,
powerfully driven by her screw, began to plough the water toward the
mouth of the Thames.
It is needless to say that the topic of conversation with every one on
board was Dr. Ferguson’s enterprise. Seeing and hearing the doctor soon
inspired everybody with such confidence that, in a very short time,
there was no one, excepting the incredulous Scotchman, on the steamer
who had the least doubt of the perfect feasibility and success of the
expedition.
During the long, unoccupied hours of the voyage, the doctor held
regular sittings, with lectures on geographical science, in the
officers’ mess-room. These young men felt an intense interest in the
discoveries made during the last forty years in Africa; and the doctor
related to them the explorations of Barth, Burton, Speke, and Grant,
and depicted the wonders of this vast, mysterious country, now thrown
open on all sides to the investigations of science. On the north, the
young Duveyrier was exploring Sahara, and bringing the chiefs of the
Touaregs to Paris. Under the inspiration of the French Government, two
expeditions were preparing, which, descending from the north, and
coming from the west, would cross each other at Timbuctoo. In the
south, the indefatigable Livingstone was still advancing toward the
equator; and, since March, 1862, he had, in company with Mackenzie,
ascended the river Rovoonia. The nineteenth century would, assuredly,
not pass, contended the doctor, without Africa having been compelled to
surrender the secrets she has kept locked up in her bosom for six
thousand years.
But the interest of Dr. Ferguson’s hearers was excited to the highest
pitch when he made known to them, in detail, the preparations for his
own journey. They took pleasure in verifying his calculations; they
discussed them; and the doctor frankly took part in the discussion.
As a general thing, they were surprised at the limited quantity of
provision that he took with him; and one day one of the officers
questioned him on that subject.
“That peculiar point astonishes you, does it?” said Ferguson.
“It does, indeed.”
“But how long do you think my trip is going to last? Whole months? If
so, you are greatly mistaken. Were it to be a long one, we should be
lost; we should never get back. But you must know that the distance
from Zanzibar to the coast of Senegal is only thirty-five hundred—say
four thousand miles. Well, at the rate of two hundred and forty miles
every twelve hours, which does not come near the rapidity of our
railroad trains, by travelling day and night, it would take only seven
days to cross Africa!”
“But then you could see nothing, make no geographical observations, or
reconnoitre the face of the country.”
“Ah!” replied the doctor, “if I am master of my balloon—if I can ascend
and descend at will, I shall stop when I please, especially when too
violent currents of air threaten to carry me out of my way with them.”
“And you will encounter such,” said Captain Bennet. “There are
tornadoes that sweep at the rate of more than two hundred and forty
miles per hour.”
“You see, then, that with such speed as that, we could cross Africa in
twelve hours. One would rise at Zanzibar, and go to bed at St. Louis!”
“But,” rejoined the officer, “could any balloon withstand the wear and
tear of such velocity?”
“It has happened before,” replied Ferguson.
“And the balloon withstood it?”
“Perfectly well. It was at the time of the coronation of Napoleon, in
1804. The aëronaut, Gernerin, sent up a balloon at Paris, about eleven
o’clock in the evening. It bore the following inscription, in letters
of gold: ‘Paris, 25 Frimaire; year XIII; Coronation of the Emperor
Napoleon by his Holiness, Pius VII.’ On the next morning, the
inhabitants of Rome saw the same balloon soaring above the Vatican,
whence it crossed the Campagna, and finally fluttered down into the
lake of Bracciano. So you see, gentlemen, that a balloon can resist
such velocities.”
“A balloon—that might be; but a man?” insinuated Kennedy.
“Yes, a man, too!—for the balloon is always motionless with reference
to the air that surrounds it. What moves is the mass of the atmosphere
itself: for instance, one may light a taper in the car, and the flame
will not even waver. An aëronaut in Garnerin’s balloon would not have
suffered in the least from the speed. But then I have no occasion to
attempt such velocity; and if I can anchor to some tree, or some
favorable inequality of the ground, at night, I shall not fail to do
so. Besides, we take provision for two months with us, after all; and
there is nothing to prevent our skilful huntsman here from furnishing
game in abundance when we come to alight.”
“Ah! Mr. Kennedy,” said a young midshipman, with envious eyes, “what
splendid shots you’ll have!”
“Without counting,” said another, “that you’ll have the glory as well
as the sport!”
“Gentlemen,” replied the hunter, stammering with confusion, “I
greatly—appreciate—your compliments—but they—don’t—belong to me.”
“You!” exclaimed every body, “don’t you intend to go?”
“I am not going!”
“You won’t accompany Dr. Ferguson?”
“Not only shall I not accompany him, but I am here so as to be present
at the last moment to prevent his going.”
Every eye was now turned to the doctor.
“Never mind him!” said the latter, calmly. “This is a matter that we
can’t argue with him. At heart he knows perfectly well that he _is_
going.”
“By Saint Andrew!” said Kennedy, “I swear—”
“Swear to nothing, friend Dick; you have been ganged and weighed—you
and your powder, your guns, and your bullets; so don’t let us say
anything more about it.”
And, in fact, from that day until the arrival at Zanzibar, Dick never
opened his mouth. He talked neither about that nor about anything else.
He kept absolutely silent.
CHAPTER NINTH.
They double the Cape.—The Forecastle.—A Course of Cosmography by
Professor Joe.—Concerning the Method of guiding Balloons.—How to seek
out Atmospheric Currents.—Eureka.
The _Resolute_ plunged along rapidly toward the Cape of Good Hope, the
weather continuing fine, although the sea ran heavier.
On the 30th of March, twenty-seven days after the departure from
London, the Table Mountain loomed up on the horizon. Cape City lying at
the foot of an amphitheatre of hills, could be distinguished through
the ship’s glasses, and soon the _Resolute_ cast anchor in the port.
But the captain touched there only to replenish his coal bunkers, and
that was but a day’s job. On the morrow, he steered away to the
south’ard, so as to double the southernmost point of Africa, and enter
the Mozambique Channel.
This was not Joe’s first sea-voyage, and so, for his part, he soon
found himself at home on board; every body liked him for his frankness
and good-humor. A considerable share of his master’s renown was
reflected upon him. He was listened to as an oracle, and he made no
more mistakes than the next one.
So, while the doctor was pursuing his descriptive course of lecturing
in the officers’ mess, Joe reigned supreme on the forecastle, holding
forth in his own peculiar manner, and making history to suit himself—a
style of procedure pursued, by the way, by the greatest historians of
all ages and nations.
The topic of discourse was, naturally, the aërial voyage. Joe had
experienced some trouble in getting the rebellious spirits to believe
in it; but, once accepted by them, nothing connected with it was any
longer an impossibility to the imaginations of the seamen stimulated by
Joe’s harangues.
Our dazzling narrator persuaded his hearers that, after this trip, many
others still more wonderful would be undertaken. In fact, it was to be
but the first of a long series of superhuman expeditions.
“You see, my friends, when a man has had a taste of that kind of
travelling, he can’t get along afterward with any other; so, on our
next expedition, instead of going off to one side, we’ll go right
ahead, going up, too, all the time.”
“Humph! then you’ll go to the moon!” said one of the crowd, with a
stare of amazement.
“To the moon!” exclaimed Joe, “To the moon! pooh! that’s too common.
Every body might go to the moon, that way. Besides, there’s no water
there, and you have to carry such a lot of it along with you. Then you
have to take air along in bottles, so as to breathe.”
“Ay! ay! that’s all right! But can a man get a drop of the real stuff
there?” said a sailor who liked his toddy.
“Not a drop!” was Joe’s answer. “No! old fellow, not in the moon. But
we’re going to skip round among those little twinklers up there—the
stars—and the splendid planets that my old man so often talks about.
For instance, we’ll commence with Saturn—”
“That one with the ring?” asked the boatswain.
“Yes! the wedding-ring—only no one knows what’s become of his wife!”
“What? will you go so high up as that?” said one of the ship-boys,
gaping with wonder. “Why, your master must be Old Nick himself.”
“Oh! no, he’s too good for that.”
“But, after Saturn—what then?” was the next inquiry of his impatient
audience.
“After Saturn? Well, we’ll visit Jupiter. A funny place that is, too,
where the days are only nine hours and a half long—a good thing for the
lazy fellows—and the years, would you believe it—last twelve of ours,
which is fine for folks who have only six months to live. They get off
a little longer by that.”
“Twelve years!” ejaculated the boy.
“Yes, my youngster; so that in that country you’d be toddling after
your mammy yet, and that old chap yonder, who looks about fifty, would
only be a little shaver of four and a half.”
“Blazes! that’s a good ‘un!” shouted the whole forecastle together.
“Solemn truth!” said Joe, stoutly.
“But what can you expect? When people will stay in this world, they
learn nothing and keep as ignorant as bears. But just come along to
Jupiter and you’ll see. But they have to look out up there, for he’s
got satellites that are not just the easiest things to pass.”
All the men laughed, but they more than half believed him. Then he went
on to talk about Neptune, where seafaring men get a jovial reception,
and Mars, where the military get the best of the sidewalk to such an
extent that folks can hardly stand it. Finally, he drew them a heavenly
picture of the delights of Venus.
“And when we get back from that expedition,” said the indefatigable
narrator, “they’ll decorate us with the Southern Cross that shines up
there in the Creator’s button-hole.”
“Ay, and you’d have well earned it!” said the sailors.
Thus passed the long evenings on the forecastle in merry chat, and
during the same time the doctor went on with his instructive
discourses.
One day the conversation turned upon the means of directing balloons,
and the doctor was asked his opinion about it.
“I don’t think,” said he, “that we shall succeed in finding out a
system of directing them. I am familiar with all the plans attempted
and proposed, and not one has succeeded, not one is practicable. You
may readily understand that I have occupied my mind with this subject,
which was, necessarily, so interesting to me, but I have not been able
to solve the problem with the appliances now known to mechanical
science. We would have to discover a motive power of extraordinary
force, and almost impossible lightness of machinery. And, even then, we
could not resist atmospheric currents of any considerable strength.
Until now, the effort has been rather to direct the car than the
balloon, and that has been one great error.”
“Still there are many points of resemblance between a balloon and a
ship which is directed at will.”
“Not at all,” retorted the doctor, “there is little or no similarity
between the two cases. Air is infinitely less dense than water, in
which the ship is only half submerged, while the whole bulk of a
balloon is plunged in the atmosphere, and remains motionless with
reference to the element that surrounds it.”
“You think, then, that aerostatic science has said its last word?”
“Not at all! not at all! But we must look for another point in the
case, and if we cannot manage to guide our balloon, we must, at least,
try to keep it in favorable aërial currents. In proportion as we
ascend, the latter become much more uniform and flow more constantly in
one direction. They are no longer disturbed by the mountains and
valleys that traverse the surface of the globe, and these, you know,
are the chief cause of the variations of the wind and the inequality of
their force. Therefore, these zones having been once determined, the
balloon will merely have to be placed in the currents best adapted to
its destination.”
“But then,” continued Captain Bennet, “in order to reach them, you must
keep constantly ascending or descending. That is the real difficulty,
doctor.”
“And why, my dear captain?”
“Let us understand one another. It would be a difficulty and an
obstacle only for long journeys, and not for short aërial excursions.”
“And why so, if you please?”
“Because you can ascend only by throwing out ballast; you can descend
only after letting off gas, and by these processes your ballast and
your gas are soon exhausted.”
“My dear sir, that’s the whole question. There is the only difficulty
that science need now seek to overcome. The problem is not how to guide
the balloon, but how to take it up and down without expending the gas
which is its strength, its life-blood, its soul, if I may use the
expression.”
“You are right, my dear doctor; but this problem is not yet solved;
this means has not yet been discovered.”
“I beg your pardon, it _has_ been discovered.”
“By whom?”
“By me!”
“By you?”
“You may readily believe that otherwise I should not have risked this
expedition across Africa in a balloon. In twenty-four hours I should
have been without gas!”
“But you said nothing about that in England?”
“No! I did not want to have myself overhauled in public. I saw no use
in that. I made my preparatory experiments in secret and was satisfied.
I have no occasion, then, to learn any thing more from them.”
“Well! doctor, would it be proper to ask what is your secret?”
“Here it is, gentlemen—the simplest thing in the world!”
The attention of his auditory was now directed to the doctor in the
utmost degree as he quietly proceeded with his explanation.
CHAPTER TENTH.
Former Experiments.—The Doctor’s Five Receptacles.—The Gas
Cylinder.—The Calorifere.—The System of Manœuvring.—Success certain.
“The attempt has often been made, gentlemen,” said the doctor, “to rise
and descend at will, without losing ballast or gas from the balloon. A
French aëronaut, M. Meunier, tried to accomplish this by compressing
air in an inner receptacle. A Belgian, Dr. Van Hecke, by means of wings
and paddles, obtained a vertical power that would have sufficed in most
cases, but the practical results secured from these experiments have
been insignificant.
“I therefore resolved to go about the thing more directly; so, at the
start, I dispensed with ballast altogether, excepting as a provision
for cases of special emergency, such as the breakage of my apparatus,
or the necessity of ascending very suddenly, so as to avoid unforeseen
obstacles.
“My means of ascent and descent consist simply in dilating or
contracting the gas that is in the balloon by the application of
different temperatures, and here is the method of obtaining that
result.
“You saw me bring on board with the car several cases or receptacles,
the use of which you may not have understood. They are five in number.
“The first contains about twenty-five gallons of water, to which I add
a few drops of sulphuric acid, so as to augment its capacity as a
conductor of electricity, and then I decompose it by means of a
powerful Buntzen battery. Water, as you know, consists of two parts of
hydrogen to one of oxygen gas.
“The latter, through the action of the battery, passes at its positive
pole into the second receptacle. A third receptacle, placed above the
second one, and of double its capacity, receives the hydrogen passing
into it by the negative pole.
“Stopcocks, of which one has an orifice twice the size of the other,
communicate between these receptacles and a fourth one, which is called
the _mixture reservoir_, since in it the two gases obtained by the
decomposition of the water do really commingle. The capacity of this
fourth tank is about forty-one cubic feet.
“On the upper part of this tank is a platinum tube provided with a
stopcock.
“You will now readily understand, gentlemen, the apparatus that I have
described to you is really a gas cylinder and blow-pipe for oxygen and
hydrogen, the heat of which exceeds that of a forge fire.
“This much established, I proceed to the second part of my apparatus.
From the lowest part of my balloon, which is hermetically closed, issue
two tubes a little distance apart. The one starts among the upper
layers of the hydrogen gas, the other amid the lower layers.
“These two pipes are provided at intervals with strong jointings of
india-rubber, which enable them to move in harmony with the
oscillations of the balloon.
“Both of them run down as far as the car, and lose themselves in an
iron receptacle of cylindrical form, which is called the _heat-tank_.
The latter is closed at its two ends by two strong plates of the same
metal.
“The pipe running from the lower part of the balloon runs into this
cylindrical receptacle through the lower plate; it penetrates the
latter and then takes the form of a helicoidal or screw-shaped spiral,
the rings of which, rising one over the other, occupy nearly the whole
of the height of the tank. Before again issuing from it, this spiral
runs into a small cone with a concave base, that is turned downward in
the shape of a spherical cap.
“It is from the top of this cone that the second pipe issues, and it
runs, as I have said, into the upper beds of the balloon.
“The spherical cap of the small cone is of platinum, so as not to melt
by the action of the cylinder and blow-pipe, for the latter are placed
upon the bottom of the iron tank in the midst of the helicoidal spiral,
and the extremity of their flame will slightly touch the cap in
question.
“You all know, gentlemen, what a calorifere, to heat apartments, is.
You know how it acts. The air of the apartments is forced to pass
through its pipes, and is then released with a heightened temperature.
Well, what I have just described to you is nothing more nor less than a
calorifere.
“In fact, what is it that takes place? The cylinder once lighted, the
hydrogen in the spiral and in the concave cone becomes heated, and
rapidly ascends through the pipe that leads to the upper part of the
balloon. A vacuum is created below, and it attracts the gas in the
lower parts; this becomes heated in its turn, and is continually
replaced; thus, an extremely rapid current of gas is established in the
pipes and in the spiral, which issues from the balloon and then returns
to it, and is heated over again, incessantly.
“Now, the cases increase 1/480 of their volume for each degree of heat
applied. If, then, I force the temperature 18 degrees, the hydrogen of
the balloon will dilate 18/480 or 1614 cubic feet, and will, therefore,
displace 1614 more cubic feet of air, which will increase its
ascensional power by 160 pounds. This is equivalent to throwing out
that weight of ballast. If I augment the temperature by 180 degrees,
the gas will dilate 180/480 and will displace 16,740 cubic feet more,
and its ascensional force will be augmented by 1,600 pounds.
“Thus, you see, gentlemen, that I can easily effect very considerable
changes of equilibrium. The volume of the balloon has been calculated
in such manner that, when half inflated, it displaces a weight of air
exactly equal to that of the envelope containing the hydrogen gas, and
of the car occupied by the passengers, and all its apparatus and
accessories. At this point of inflation, it is in exact equilibrium
with the air, and neither mounts nor descends.
“In order, then, to effect an ascent, I give the gas a temperature
superior to the temperature of the surrounding air by means of my
cylinder. By this excess of heat it obtains a larger distention, and
inflates the balloon more. The latter, then, ascends in proportion as I
heat the hydrogen.
“The descent, of course, is effected by lowering the heat of the
cylinder, and letting the temperature abate. The ascent would be,
usually, more rapid than the descent; but that is a fortunate
circumstance, since it is of no importance to me to descend rapidly,
while, on the other hand, it is by a very rapid ascent that I avoid
obstacles. The real danger lurks below, and not above.
“Besides, as I have said, I have a certain quantity of ballast, which
will enable me to ascend more rapidly still, when necessary. My valve,
at the top of the balloon, is nothing more nor less than a
safety-valve. The balloon always retains the same quantity of hydrogen,
and the variations of temperature that I produce in the midst of this
shut-up gas are, of themselves, sufficient to provide for all these
ascending and descending movements.
“Now, gentlemen, as a practical detail, let me add this:
“The combustion of the hydrogen and of the oxygen at the point of the
cylinder produces solely the vapor or steam of water. I have,
therefore, provided the lower part of the cylindrical iron box with a
scape-pipe, with a valve operating by means of a pressure of two
atmospheres; consequently, so soon as this amount of pressure is
attained, the steam escapes of itself.
“Here are the exact figures: 25 gallons of water, separated into its
constituent elements, yield 200 pounds of oxygen and 25 pounds of
hydrogen. This represents, at atmospheric tension, 1,800 cubic feet of
the former and 3,780 cubic feet of the latter, or 5,670 cubic feet, in
all, of the mixture. Hence, the stopcock of my cylinder, when fully
open, expends 27 cubic feet per hour, with a flame at least six times
as strong as that of the large lamps used for lighting streets. On an
average, then, and in order to keep myself at a very moderate
elevation, I should not burn more than nine cubic feet per hour, so
that my twenty-five gallons of water represent six hundred and
thirty-six hours of aërial navigation, or a little more than twenty-six
days.
“Well, as I can descend when I please, to replenish my stock of water
on the way, my trip might be indefinitely prolonged.
“Such, gentlemen, is my secret. It is simple, and, like most simple
things, it cannot fail to succeed. The dilation and contraction of the
gas in the balloon is my means of locomotion, which calls for neither
cumbersome wings, nor any other mechanical motor. A calorifere to
produce the changes of temperature, and a cylinder to generate the
heat, are neither inconvenient nor heavy. I think, therefore, that I
have combined all the elements of success.”
Dr. Ferguson here terminated his discourse, and was most heartily
applauded. There was not an objection to make to it; all had been
foreseen and decided.
“However,” said the captain, “the thing may prove dangerous.”
“What matters that,” replied the doctor, “provided that it be
practicable?”
CHAPTER ELEVENTH.
The Arrival at Zanzibar.—The English Consul.—Ill-will of the
Inhabitants.—The Island of Koumbeni.—The Rain-Makers.—Inflation of the
Balloon.—Departure on the 18th of April.—The last Good-by.—The
Victoria.
An invariably favorable wind had accelerated the progress of the
_Resolute_ toward the place of her destination. The navigation of the
Mozambique Channel was especially calm and pleasant. The agreeable
character of the trip by sea was regarded as a good omen of the
probable issue of the trip through the air. Every one looked forward to
the hour of arrival, and sought to give the last touch to the doctor’s
preparations.
At length the vessel hove in sight of the town of Zanzibar, upon the
island of the same name, and, on the 15th of April, at 11 o’clock in
the morning, she anchored in the port.
The island of Zanzibar belongs to the Imaum of Muscat, an ally of
France and England, and is, undoubtedly, his finest settlement. The
port is frequented by a great many vessels from the neighboring
countries.
The island is separated from the African coast only by a channel, the
greatest width of which is but thirty miles.
It has a large trade in gums, ivory, and, above all, in “ebony,” for
Zanzibar is the great slave-market. Thither converges all the booty
captured in the battles which the chiefs of the interior are
continually fighting. This traffic extends along the whole eastern
coast, and as far as the Nile latitudes. Mr. G. Lejean even reports
that he has seen it carried on, openly, under the French flag.
Upon the arrival of the _Resolute_, the English consul at Zanzibar came
on board to offer his services to the doctor, of whose projects the
European newspapers had made him aware for a month past. But, up to
that moment, he had remained with the numerous phalanx of the
incredulous.
“I doubted,” said he, holding out his hand to Dr. Ferguson, “but now I
doubt no longer.”
He invited the doctor, Kennedy, and the faithful Joe, of course, to his
own dwelling. Through his courtesy, the doctor was enabled to have
knowledge of the various letters that he had received from Captain
Speke. The captain and his companions had suffered dreadfully from
hunger and bad weather before reaching the Ugogo country. They could
advance only with extreme difficulty, and did not expect to be able to
communicate again for a long time.
“Those are perils and privations which we shall manage to avoid,” said
the doctor.
The baggage of the three travellers was conveyed to the consul’s
residence. Arrangements were made for disembarking the balloon upon the
beach at Zanzibar. There was a convenient spot, near the signal-mast,
close by an immense building, that would serve to shelter it from the
east winds. This huge tower, resembling a tun standing on one end,
beside which the famous Heidelberg tun would have seemed but a very
ordinary barrel, served as a fortification, and on its platform were
stationed Belootchees, armed with lances. These Belootchees are a kind
of brawling, good-for-nothing Janizaries.
But, when about to land the balloon, the consul was informed that the
population of the island would oppose their doing so by force. Nothing
is so blind as fanatical passion. The news of the arrival of a
Christian, who was to ascend into the air, was received with rage. The
negroes, more exasperated than the Arabs, saw in this project an attack
upon their religion. They took it into their heads that some mischief
was meant to the sun and the moon. Now, these two luminaries are
objects of veneration to the African tribes, and they determined to
oppose so sacrilegious an enterprise.
The consul, informed of their intentions, conferred with Dr. Ferguson
and Captain Bennet on the subject. The latter was unwilling to yield to
threats, but his friend dissuaded him from any idea of violent
retaliation.
“We shall certainly come out winners,” he said. “Even the imaum’s
soldiers will lend us a hand, if we need it. But, my dear captain, an
accident may happen in a moment, and it would require but one unlucky
blow to do the balloon an irreparable injury, so that the trip would be
totally defeated; therefore we must act with the greatest caution.”
“But what are we to do? If we land on the coast of Africa, we shall
encounter the same difficulties. What are we to do?”
“Nothing is more simple,” replied the consul. “You observe those small
islands outside of the port; land your balloon on one of them; surround
it with a guard of sailors, and you will have no risk to run.”
“Just the thing!” said the doctor, “and we shall be entirely at our
ease in completing our preparations.”
The captain yielded to these suggestions, and the _Resolute_ was headed
for the island of Koumbeni. During the morning of the 16th April, the
balloon was placed in safety in the middle of a clearing in the great
woods, with which the soil is studded.
Two masts, eighty feet in height, were raised at the same distance from
each other. Blocks and tackle, placed at their extremities, afforded
the means of elevating the balloon, by the aid of a transverse rope. It
was then entirely uninflated. The interior balloon was fastened to the
exterior one, in such manner as to be lifted up in the same way. To the
lower end of each balloon were fixed the pipes that served to introduce
the hydrogen gas.
The whole day, on the 17th, was spent in arranging the apparatus
destined to produce the gas; it consisted of some thirty casks, in
which the decomposition of water was effected by means of iron-filings
and sulphuric acid placed together in a large quantity of the
first-named fluid. The hydrogen passed into a huge central cask, after
having been washed on the way, and thence into each balloon by the
conduit-pipes. In this manner each of them received a certain
accurately-ascertained quantity of gas. For this purpose, there had to
be employed eighteen hundred and sixty-six pounds of sulphuric acid,
sixteen thousand and fifty pounds of iron, and nine thousand one
hundred and sixty-six gallons of water. This operation commenced on the
following night, about three A.M., and lasted nearly eight hours. The
next day, the balloon, covered with its network, undulated gracefully
above its car, which was held to the ground by numerous sacks of earth.
The inflating apparatus was put together with extreme care, and the
pipes issuing from the balloon were securely fitted to the cylindrical
case.
The anchors, the cordage, the instruments, the travelling-wraps, the
awning, the provisions, and the arms, were put in the place assigned to
them in the car. The supply of water was procured at Zanzibar. The two
hundred pounds of ballast were distributed in fifty bags placed at the
bottom of the car, but within arm’s-reach.
These preparations were concluded about five o’clock in the evening,
while sentinels kept close watch around the island, and the boats of
the _Resolute_ patrolled the channel.
The blacks continued to show their displeasure by grimaces and
contortions. Their _obi-men_, or wizards, went up and down among the
angry throngs, pouring fuel on the flame of their fanaticism; and some
of the excited wretches, more furious and daring than the rest,
attempted to get to the island by swimming, but they were easily driven
off.
Thereupon the sorceries and incantations commenced; the “rain-makers,”
who pretend to have control over the clouds, invoked the storms and the
“stone-showers,” as the blacks call hail, to their aid. To compel them
to do so, they plucked leaves of all the different trees that grow in
that country, and boiled them over a slow fire, while, at the same
time, a sheep was killed by thrusting a long needle into its heart.
But, in spite of all their ceremonies, the sky remained clear and
beautiful, and they profited nothing by their slaughtered sheep and
their ugly grimaces.
The blacks then abandoned themselves to the most furious orgies, and
got fearfully drunk on “tembo,” a kind of ardent spirits drawn from the
cocoa-nut tree, and an extremely heady sort of beer called “togwa.”
Their chants, which were destitute of all melody, but were sung in
excellent time, continued until far into the night.
About six o’clock in the evening, the captain assembled the travellers
and the officers of the ship at a farewell repast in his cabin.
Kennedy, whom nobody ventured to question now, sat with his eyes
riveted on Dr. Ferguson, murmuring indistinguishable words. In other
respects, the dinner was a gloomy one. The approach of the final moment
filled everybody with the most serious reflections. What had fate in
store for these daring adventurers? Should they ever again find
themselves in the midst of their friends, or seated at the domestic
hearth? Were their travelling apparatus to fail, what would become of
them, among those ferocious savage tribes, in regions that had never
been explored, and in the midst of boundless deserts?
Such thoughts as these, which had been dim and vague until then, or but
slightly regarded when they came up, returned upon their excited
fancies with intense force at this parting moment. Dr. Ferguson, still
cold and impassible, talked of this, that, and the other; but he strove
in vain to overcome this infectious gloominess. He utterly failed.
As some demonstration against the personal safety of the doctor and his
companions was feared, all three slept that night on board the
_Resolute_. At six o’clock in the morning they left their cabin, and
landed on the island of Koumbeni.
The balloon was swaying gently to and fro in the morning breeze; the
sand-bags that had held it down were now replaced by some twenty
strong-armed sailors, and Captain Bennet and his officers were present
to witness the solemn departure of their friends.
At this moment Kennedy went right up to the doctor, grasped his hand,
and said:
“Samuel, have you absolutely determined to go?”
“Solemnly determined, my dear Dick.”
“I have done every thing that I could to prevent this expedition, have
I not?”
“Every thing!”
“Well, then, my conscience is clear on that score, and I will go with
you.”
“I was sure you would!” said the doctor, betraying in his features
swift traces of emotion.
At last the moment of final leave-taking arrived. The captain and his
officers embraced their dauntless friends with great feeling, not
excepting even Joe, who, worthy fellow, was as proud and happy as a
prince. Every one in the party insisted upon having a final shake of
the doctor’s hand.
At nine o’clock the three travellers got into their car. The doctor lit
the combustible in his cylinder and turned the flame so as to produce a
rapid heat, and the balloon, which had rested on the ground in perfect
equipoise, began to rise in a few minutes, so that the seamen had to
slacken the ropes they held it by. The car then rose about twenty feet
above their heads.
“My friends!” exclaimed the doctor, standing up between his two
companions, and taking off his hat, “let us give our aërial ship a name
that will bring her good luck! let us christen her _Victoria!_”
This speech was answered with stentorian cheers of “Huzza for the
Queen! Huzza for Old England!”
At this moment the ascensional force of the balloon increased
prodigiously, and Ferguson, Kennedy, and Joe, waved a last good-by to
their friends.
“Let go all!” shouted the doctor, and at the word the _Victoria_ shot
rapidly up into the sky, while the four carronades on board the
_Resolute_ thundered forth a parting salute in her honor.
CHAPTER TWELFTH.
Crossing the Strait.—The Mrima.—Dick’s Remark and Joe’s Proposition.—A
Recipe for Coffee-making.—The Uzaramo.—The Unfortunate Maizan.—Mount
Duthumi.—The Doctor’s Cards.—Night under a Nopal.
The air was pure, the wind moderate, and the balloon ascended almost
perpendicularly to a height of fifteen hundred feet, as indicated by a
depression of two inches in the barometric column.
At this height a more decided current carried the balloon toward the
southwest. What a magnificent spectacle was then outspread beneath the
gaze of the travellers! The island of Zanzibar could be seen in its
entire extent, marked out by its deeper color upon a vast planisphere;
the fields had the appearance of patterns of different colors, and
thick clumps of green indicated the groves and thickets.
The inhabitants of the island looked no larger than insects. The
huzzaing and shouting were little by little lost in the distance, and
only the discharge of the ship’s guns could be heard in the concavity
beneath the balloon, as the latter sped on its flight.
“How fine that is!” said Joe, breaking silence for the first time.
He got no reply. The doctor was busy observing the variations of the
barometer and noting down the details of his ascent.
Kennedy looked on, and had not eyes enough to take in all that he saw.
The rays of the sun coming to the aid of the heating cylinder, the
tension of the gas increased, and the _Victoria_ attained the height of
twenty-five hundred feet.
The _Resolute_ looked like a mere cockle-shell, and the African coast
could be distinctly seen in the west marked out by a fringe of foam.
“You don’t talk?” said Joe, again.
“We are looking!” said the doctor, directing his spy-glass toward the
mainland.
“For my part, I must talk!”
“As much as you please, Joe; talk as much as you like!”
And Joe went on alone with a tremendous volley of exclamations. The
“ohs!” and the “ahs!” exploded one after the other, incessantly, from
his lips.
During his passage over the sea the doctor deemed it best to keep at
his present elevation. He could thus reconnoitre a greater stretch of
the coast. The thermometer and the barometer, hanging up inside of the
half-opened awning, were always within sight, and a second barometer
suspended outside was to serve during the night watches.
At the end of about two hours the _Victoria_, driven along at a speed
of a little more than eight miles, very visibly neared the coast of the
mainland. The doctor, thereupon, determined to descend a little nearer
to the ground. So he moderated the flame of his cylinder, and the
balloon, in a few moments, had descended to an altitude only three
hundred feet above the soil.
It was then found to be passing just over the Mrima country, the name
of this part of the eastern coast of Africa. Dense borders of
mango-trees protected its margin, and the ebb-tide disclosed to view
their thick roots, chafed and gnawed by the teeth of the Indian Ocean.
The sands which, at an earlier period, formed the coast-line, rounded
away along the distant horizon, and Mount Nguru reared aloft its sharp
summit in the northwest.
The _Victoria_ passed near to a village which the doctor found marked
upon his chart as Kaole. Its entire population had assembled in crowds,
and were yelling with anger and fear, at the same time vainly directing
their arrows against this monster of the air that swept along so
majestically away above all their powerless fury.
The wind was setting to the southward, but the doctor felt no concern
on that score, since it enabled him the better to follow the route
traced by Captains Burton and Speke.
Kennedy had, at length, become as talkative as Joe, and the two kept up
a continual interchange of admiring interjections and exclamations.
“Out upon stage-coaches!” said one.
“Steamers indeed!” said the other.
“Railroads! eh? rubbish!” put in Kennedy, “that you travel on, without
seeing the country!”
“Balloons! they’re the sort for me!” Joe would add. “Why, you don’t
feel yourself going, and Nature takes the trouble to spread herself out
before one’s eyes!”
“What a splendid sight! What a spectacle! What a delight! a dream in a
hammock!”
“Suppose we take our breakfast?” was Joe’s unpoetical change of tune,
at last, for the keen, open air had mightily sharpened his appetite.
“Good idea, my boy!”
“Oh! it won’t take us long to do the cooking—biscuit and potted meat?”
“And as much coffee as you like,” said the doctor. “I give you leave to
borrow a little heat from my cylinder. There’s enough and to spare, for
that matter, and so we shall avoid the risk of a conflagration.”
“That would be a dreadful misfortune!” ejaculated Kennedy. “It’s the
same as a powder-magazine suspended over our heads.”
“Not precisely,” said Ferguson, “but still if the gas were to take fire
it would burn up gradually, and we should settle down on the ground,
which would be disagreeable; but never fear—our balloon is hermetically
sealed.”
“Let us eat a bite, then,” replied Kennedy.
“Now, gentlemen,” put in Joe, “while doing the same as you, I’m going
to get you up a cup of coffee that I think you’ll have something to say
about.”
“The fact is,” added the doctor, “that Joe, along with a thousand other
virtues, has a remarkable talent for the preparation of that delicious
beverage: he compounds it of a mixture of various origin, but he never
would reveal to me the ingredients.”
“Well, master, since we are so far above-ground, I can tell you the
secret. It is just to mix equal quantities of Mocha, of Bourbon coffee,
and of Rio Nunez.”
A few moments later, three steaming cups of coffee were served, and
topped off a substantial breakfast, which was additionally seasoned by
the jokes and repartees of the guests. Each one then resumed his post
of observation.
The country over which they were passing was remarkable for its
fertility. Narrow, winding paths plunged in beneath the overarching
verdure. They swept along above cultivated fields of tobacco, maize,
and barley, at full maturity, and here and there immense rice-fields,
full of straight stalks and purple blossoms. They could distinguish
sheep and goats too, confined in large cages, set up on piles to keep
them out of reach of the leopards’ fangs. Luxuriant vegetation spread
in wild profuseness over this prodigal soil.
Village after village rang with yells of terror and astonishment at the
sight of the _Victoria_, and Dr. Ferguson prudently kept her above the
reach of the barbarian arrows. The savages below, thus baffled, ran
together from their huddle of huts and followed the travellers with
their vain imprecations while they remained in sight.
At noon, the doctor, upon consulting his map, calculated that they were
passing over the Uzaramo[2] country. The soil was thickly studded with
cocoa-nut, papaw, and cotton-wood trees, above which the balloon seemed
to disport itself like a bird. Joe found this splendid vegetation a
matter of course, seeing that they were in Africa. Kennedy descried
some hares and quails that asked nothing better than to get a good shot
from his fowling-piece, but it would have been powder wasted, since
there was no time to pick up the game.
[2] U and Ou signify country in the language of that region.
The aëronauts swept on with the speed of twelve miles per hour, and
soon were passing in thirty-eight degrees twenty minutes east
longitude, over the village of Tounda.
“It was there,” said the doctor, “that Burton and Speke were seized
with violent fevers, and for a moment thought their expedition ruined.
And yet they were only a short distance from the coast, but fatigue and
privation were beginning to tell upon them severely.”
In fact, there is a perpetual malaria reigning throughout the country
in question. Even the doctor could hope to escape its effects only by
rising above the range of the miasma that exhales from this damp region
whence the blazing rays of the sun pump up its poisonous vapors. Once
in a while they could descry a caravan resting in a “_kraal_,” awaiting
the freshness and cool of the evening to resume its route. These kraals
are wide patches of cleared land, surrounded by hedges and jungles,
where traders take shelter against not only the wild beasts, but also
the robber tribes of the country. They could see the natives running
and scattering in all directions at the sight of the _Victoria_.
Kennedy was keen to get a closer look at them, but the doctor
invariably held out against the idea.
“The chiefs are armed with muskets,” he said, “and our balloon would be
too conspicuous a mark for their bullets.”
“Would a bullet-hole bring us down?” asked Joe.
“Not immediately; but such a hole would soon become a large torn
orifice through which our gas would escape.”
“Then, let us keep at a respectful distance from yon miscreants. What
must they think as they see us sailing in the air? I’m sure they must
feel like worshipping us!”
“Let them worship away, then,” replied the doctor, “but at a distance.
There is no harm done in getting as far away from them as possible.
See! the country is already changing its aspect: the villages are fewer
and farther between; the mango-trees have disappeared, for their growth
ceases at this latitude. The soil is becoming hilly and portends
mountains not far off.”
“Yes,” said Kennedy, “it seems to me that I can see some high land on
this side.”
“In the west—those are the nearest ranges of the Ourizara—Mount
Duthumi, no doubt, behind which I hope to find shelter for the night.
I’ll stir up the heat in the cylinder a little, for we must keep at an
elevation of five or six hundred feet.”
“That was a grand idea of yours, sir,” said Joe. “It’s mighty easy to
manage it; you turn a cock, and the thing’s done.”
“Ah! here we are more at our ease,” said the sportsman, as the balloon
ascended; “the reflection of the sun on those red sands was getting to
be insupportable.”
“What splendid trees!” cried Joe. “They’re quite natural, but they are
very fine! Why a dozen of them would make a forest!”
“Those are baobabs,” replied Dr. Ferguson. “See, there’s one with a
trunk fully one hundred feet in circumference. It was, perhaps, at the
foot of that very tree that Maizan, the French traveller, expired in
1845, for we are over the village of Deje-la-Mhora, to which he pushed
on alone. He was seized by the chief of this region, fastened to the
foot of a baobab, and the ferocious black then severed all his joints
while the war-song of his tribe was chanted; he then made a gash in the
prisoner’s neck, stopped to sharpen his knife, and fairly tore away the
poor wretch’s head before it had been cut from the body. The
unfortunate Frenchman was but twenty-six years of age.”
“And France has never avenged so hideous a crime?” said Kennedy.
“France did demand satisfaction, and the Said of Zanzibar did all in
his power to capture the murderer, but in vain.”
“I move that we don’t stop here!” urged Joe; “let us go up, master, let
us go up higher by all means.”
“All the more willingly, Joe, that there is Mount Duthumi right ahead
of us. If my calculations be right we shall have passed it before seven
o’clock in the evening.”
“Shall we not travel at night?” asked the Scotchman.
“No, as little as possible. With care and vigilance we might do so
safely, but it is not enough to sweep across Africa. We want to see
it.”
“Up to this time we have nothing to complain of, master. The best
cultivated and most fertile country in the world instead of a desert!
Believe the geographers after that!”
“Let us wait, Joe! we shall see by-and-by.”
About half-past six in the evening the _Victoria_ was directly opposite
Mount Duthumi; in order to pass, it had to ascend to a height of more
than three thousand feet, and to accomplish that the doctor had only to
raise the temperature of his gas eighteen degrees. It might have been
correctly said that he held his balloon in his hand. Kennedy had only
to indicate to him the obstacles to be surmounted, and the _Victoria_
sped through the air, skimming the summits of the range.
At eight o’clock it descended the farther slope, the acclivity of which
was much less abrupt. The anchors were thrown out from the car and one
of them, coming in contact with the branches of an enormous nopal,
caught on it firmly. Joe at once let himself slide down the rope and
secured it. The silk ladder was then lowered to him and he remounted to
the car with agility. The balloon now remained perfectly at rest
sheltered from the eastern winds.
The evening meal was got ready, and the aëronauts, excited by their
day’s journey, made a heavy onslaught upon the provisions.
“What distance have we traversed to-day?” asked Kennedy, disposing of
some alarming mouthfuls.
The doctor took his bearings, by means of lunar observations, and
consulted the excellent map that he had with him for his guidance. It
belonged to the Atlas of “Der Neuester Endeckungen in Afrika” (“The
Latest Discoveries in Africa”), published at Gotha by his learned
friend Dr. Petermann, and by that _savant_ sent to him. This Atlas was
to serve the doctor on his whole journey; for it contained the
itinerary of Burton and Speke to the great lakes; the Soudan, according
to Dr. Barth; the Lower Senegal, according to Guillaume Lejean; and the
Delta of the Niger, by Dr. Blaikie.
Ferguson had also provided himself with a work which combined in one
compilation all the notions already acquired concerning the Nile. It
was entitled “The Sources of the Nile; being a General Survey of the
Basin of that River and of its Head-Stream, with the History of the
Nilotic Discovery, by Charles Beke, D.D.”
He also had the excellent charts published in the “Bulletins of the
Geographical Society of London;” and not a single point of the
countries already discovered could, therefore, escape his notice.
Upon tracing on his maps, he found that his latitudinal route had been
two degrees, or one hundred and twenty miles, to the westward.
Kennedy remarked that the route tended toward the south; but this
direction was satisfactory to the doctor, who desired to reconnoitre
the tracks of his predecessors as much as possible. It was agreed that
the night should be divided into three watches, so that each of the
party should take his turn in watching over the safety of the rest. The
doctor took the watch commencing at nine o’clock; Kennedy, the one
commencing at midnight; and Joe, the three o’clock morning watch.
So Kennedy and Joe, well wrapped in their blankets, stretched
themselves at full length under the awning, and slept quietly; while
Dr. Ferguson kept on the lookout.
CHAPTER THIRTEENTH.
Change of Weather.—Kennedy has the Fever.—The Doctor’s
Medicine.—Travels on Land.—The Basin of Imenge.—Mount Rubeho.—Six
Thousand Feet Elevation.—A Halt in the Daytime.
The night was calm. However, on Saturday morning, Kennedy, as he awoke,
complained of lassitude and feverish chills. The weather was changing.
The sky, covered with clouds, seemed to be laying in supplies for a
fresh deluge. A gloomy region is that Zungomoro country, where it rains
continually, excepting, perhaps, for a couple of weeks in the month of
January.
A violent shower was not long in drenching our travellers. Below them,
the roads, intersected by “nullahs,” a sort of instantaneous torrent,
were soon rendered impracticable, entangled as they were, besides, with
thorny thickets and gigantic lianas, or creeping vines. The
sulphuretted hydrogen emanations, which Captain Burton mentions, could
be distinctly smelt.
“According to his statement, and I think he’s right,” said the doctor,
“one could readily believe that there is a corpse hidden behind every
thicket.”
“An ugly country this!” sighed Joe; “and it seems to me that Mr.
Kennedy is none the better for having passed the night in it.”
“To tell the truth, I have quite a high fever,” said the sportsman.
“There’s nothing remarkable about that, my dear Dick, for we are in one
of the most unhealthy regions in Africa; but we shall not remain here
long; so let’s be off.”
Thanks to a skilful manœuvre achieved by Joe, the anchor was
disengaged, and Joe reascended to the car by means of the ladder. The
doctor vigorously dilated the gas, and the _Victoria_ resumed her
flight, driven along by a spanking breeze.
Only a few scattered huts could be seen through the pestilential mists;
but the appearance of the country soon changed, for it often happens in
Africa that some of the unhealthiest districts lie close beside others
that are perfectly salubrious.
Kennedy was visibly suffering, and the fever was mastering his vigorous
constitution.
“It won’t do to fall ill, though,” he grumbled; and so saying, he
wrapped himself in a blanket, and lay down under the awning.
“A little patience, Dick, and you’ll soon get over this,” said the
doctor.
“Get over it! Egad, Samuel, if you’ve any drug in your travelling-chest
that will set me on my feet again, bring it without delay. I’ll swallow
it with my eyes shut!”
“Oh, I can do better than that, friend Dick; for I can give you a
febrifuge that won’t cost any thing.”
“And how will you do that?”
“Very easily. I am simply going to take you up above these clouds that
are now deluging us, and remove you from this pestilential atmosphere.
I ask for only ten minutes, in order to dilate the hydrogen.”
The ten minutes had scarcely elapsed ere the travellers were beyond the
rainy belt of country.
“Wait a little, now, Dick, and you’ll begin to feel the effect of pure
air and sunshine.”
“There’s a cure for you!” said Joe; “why, it’s wonderful!”
“No, it’s merely natural.”
“Oh! natural; yes, no doubt of that!”
“I bring Dick into good air, as the doctors do, every day, in Europe,
or, as I would send a patient at Martinique to the Pitons, a lofty
mountain on that island, to get clear of the yellow fever.”
“Ah! by Jove, this balloon is a paradise!” exclaimed Kennedy, feeling
much better already.
“It leads to it, anyhow!” replied Joe, quite gravely.
It was a curious spectacle—that mass of clouds piled up, at the moment,
away below them! The vapors rolled over each other, and mingled
together in confused masses of superb brilliance, as they reflected the
rays of the sun. The _Victoria_ had attained an altitude of four
thousand feet, and the thermometer indicated a certain diminution of
temperature. The land below could no longer be seen. Fifty miles away
to the westward, Mount Rubeho raised its sparkling crest, marking the
limit of the Ugogo country in east longitude thirty-six degrees twenty
minutes. The wind was blowing at the rate of twenty miles an hour, but
the aëronauts felt nothing of this increased speed. They observed no
jar, and had scarcely any sense of motion at all.
Three hours later, the doctor’s prediction was fully verified. Kennedy
no longer felt a single shiver of the fever, but partook of some
breakfast with an excellent appetite.
“That beats sulphate of quinine!” said the energetic Scot, with hearty
emphasis and much satisfaction.
“Positively,” said Joe, “this is where I’ll have to retire to when I
get old!”
About ten o’clock in the morning the atmosphere cleared up, the clouds
parted, and the country beneath could again be seen, the _Victoria_
meanwhile rapidly descending. Dr. Ferguson was in search of a current
that would carry him more to the northeast, and he found it about six
hundred feet from the ground. The country was becoming more broken, and
even mountainous. The Zungomoro district was fading out of sight in the
east with the last cocoa-nut-trees of that latitude.
Ere long, the crests of a mountain-range assumed a more decided
prominence. A few peaks rose here and there, and it became necessary to
keep a sharp lookout for the pointed cones that seemed to spring up
every moment.
“We’re right among the breakers!” said Kennedy.
“Keep cool, Dick. We shan’t touch them,” was the doctor’s quiet answer.
“It’s a jolly way to travel, anyhow!” said Joe, with his usual flow of
spirits.
In fact, the doctor managed his balloon with wondrous dexterity.
“Now, if we had been compelled to go afoot over that drenched soil,”
said he, “we should still be dragging along in a pestilential mire.
Since our departure from Zanzibar, half our beasts of burden would have
died with fatigue. We should be looking like ghosts ourselves, and
despair would be seizing on our hearts. We should be in continual
squabbles with our guides and porters, and completely exposed to their
unbridled brutality. During the daytime, a damp, penetrating,
unendurable humidity! At night, a cold frequently intolerable, and the
stings of a kind of fly whose bite pierces the thickest cloth, and
drives the victim crazy! All this, too, without saying any thing about
wild beasts and ferocious native tribes!”
“I move that we don’t try it!” said Joe, in his droll way.
“I exaggerate nothing,” continued Ferguson, “for, upon reading the
narratives of such travellers as have had the hardihood to venture into
these regions, your eyes would fill with tears.”
About eleven o’clock they were passing over the basin of Imenge, and
the tribes scattered over the adjacent hills were impotently menacing
the _Victoria_ with their weapons. Finally, she sped along as far as
the last undulations of the country which precede Rubeho. These form
the last and loftiest chain of the mountains of Usagara.
The aëronauts took careful and complete note of the orographic
conformation of the country. The three ramifications mentioned, of
which the Duthumi forms the first link, are separated by immense
longitudinal plains. These elevated summits consist of rounded cones,
between which the soil is bestrewn with erratic blocks of stone and
gravelly bowlders. The most abrupt declivity of these mountains
confronts the Zanzibar coast, but the western slopes are merely
inclined planes. The depressions in the soil are covered with a black,
rich loam, on which there is a vigorous vegetation. Various
water-courses filter through, toward the east, and work their way
onward to flow into the Kingani, in the midst of gigantic clumps of
sycamore, tamarind, calabash, and palmyra trees.
“Attention!” said Dr. Ferguson. “We are approaching Rubeho, the name of
which signifies, in the language of the country, the ‘Passage of the
Winds,’ and we would do well to double its jagged pinnacles at a
certain height. If my chart be exact, we are going to ascend to an
elevation of five thousand feet.”
“Shall we often have occasion to reach those far upper belts of the
atmosphere?”
“Very seldom: the height of the African mountains appears to be quite
moderate compared with that of the European and Asiatic ranges; but, in
any case, our good _Victoria_ will find no difficulty in passing over
them.”
In a very little while, the gas expanded under the action of the heat,
and the balloon took a very decided ascensional movement. Besides, the
dilation of the hydrogen involved no danger, and only three-fourths of
the vast capacity of the balloon was filled when the barometer, by a
depression of eight inches, announced an elevation of six thousand
feet.
“Shall we go this high very long?” asked Joe.
“The atmosphere of the earth has a height of six thousand fathoms,”
said the doctor; “and, with a very large balloon, one might go far.
That is what Messrs. Brioschi and Gay-Lussac did; but then the blood
burst from their mouths and ears. Respirable air was wanting. Some
years ago, two fearless Frenchmen, Messrs. Barral and Bixio, also
ventured into the very lofty regions; but their balloon burst—”
“And they fell?” asked Kennedy, abruptly.
“Certainly they did; but as learned men should always fall—namely,
without hurting themselves.”
“Well, gentlemen,” said Joe, “you may try their fall over again, if you
like; but, as for me, who am but a dolt, I prefer keeping at the medium
height—neither too far up, nor too low down. It won’t do to be too
ambitious.”
At the height of six thousand feet, the density of the atmosphere has
already greatly diminished; sound is conveyed with difficulty, and the
voice is not so easily heard. The view of objects becomes confused; the
gaze no longer takes in any but large, quite ill-distinguishable
masses; men and animals on the surface become absolutely invisible; the
roads and rivers get to look like threads, and the lakes dwindle to
ponds.
The doctor and his friends felt themselves in a very anomalous
condition; an atmospheric current of extreme velocity was bearing them
away beyond arid mountains, upon whose summits vast fields of snow
surprised the gaze; while their convulsed appearance told of Titanic
travail in the earliest epoch of the world’s existence.
The sun shone at the zenith, and his rays fell perpendicularly upon
those lonely summits. The doctor took an accurate design of these
mountains, which form four distinct ridges almost in a straight line,
the northernmost being the longest.
The _Victoria_ soon descended the slope opposite to the Rubeho,
skirting an acclivity covered with woods, and dotted with trees of very
deep-green foliage. Then came crests and ravines, in a sort of desert
which preceded the Ugogo country; and lower down were yellow plains,
parched and fissured by the intense heat, and, here and there, bestrewn
with saline plants and brambly thickets.
Some underbrush, which, farther on, became forests, embellished the
horizon. The doctor went nearer to the ground; the anchors were thrown
out, and one of them soon caught in the boughs of a huge sycamore.
Joe, slipping nimbly down the tree, carefully attached the anchor, and
the doctor left his cylinder at work to a certain degree in order to
retain sufficient ascensional force in the balloon to keep it in the
air. Meanwhile the wind had suddenly died away.
“Now,” said Ferguson, “take two guns, friend Dick—one for yourself and
one for Joe—and both of you try to bring back some nice cuts of
antelope-meat; they will make us a good dinner.”
“Off to the hunt!” exclaimed Kennedy, joyously.
He climbed briskly out of the car and descended. Joe had swung himself
down from branch to branch, and was waiting for him below, stretching
his limbs in the mean time.
“Don’t fly away without us, doctor!” shouted Joe.
“Never fear, my boy!—I am securely lashed. I’ll spend the time getting
my notes into shape. A good hunt to you! but be careful. Besides, from
my post here, I can observe the face of the country, and, at the least
suspicious thing I notice, I’ll fire a signal-shot, and with that you
must rally home.”
“Agreed!” said Kennedy; and off they went.
CHAPTER FOURTEENTH.
The Forest of Gum-Trees.—The Blue Antelope.—The Rallying-Signal.—An
Unexpected Attack.—The Kanyemé.—A Night in the Open Air.—The
Mabunguru.—Jihoue-la-Mkoa.—A Supply of Water.—Arrival at Kazeh.
The country, dry and parched as it was, consisting of a clayey soil
that cracked open with the heat, seemed, indeed, a desert: here and
there were a few traces of caravans; the bones of men and animals, that
had been half-gnawed away, mouldering together in the same dust.
After half an hour’s walking, Dick and Joe plunged into a forest of
gum-trees, their eyes alert on all sides, and their fingers on the
trigger. There was no foreseeing what they might encounter. Without
being a rifleman, Joe could handle fire-arms with no trifling
dexterity.
“A walk does one good, Mr. Kennedy, but this isn’t the easiest ground
in the world,” he said, kicking aside some fragments of quartz with
which the soil was bestrewn.
Kennedy motioned to his companion to be silent and to halt. The present
case compelled them to dispense with hunting-dogs, and, no matter what
Joe’s agility might be, he could not be expected to have the scent of a
setter or a greyhound.
A herd of a dozen antelopes were quenching their thirst in the bed of a
torrent where some pools of water had lodged. The graceful creatures,
snuffing danger in the breeze, seemed to be disturbed and uneasy. Their
beautiful heads could be seen between every draught, raised in the air
with quick and sudden motion as they sniffed the wind in the direction
of our two hunters, with their flexible nostrils.
Kennedy stole around behind some clumps of shrubbery, while Joe
remained motionless where he was. The former, at length, got within
gunshot and fired.
The herd disappeared in the twinkling of an eye; one male antelope
only, that was hit just behind the shoulder-joint, fell headlong to the
ground, and Kennedy leaped toward his booty.
It was a _blauwbok_, a superb animal of a pale-bluish color shading
upon the gray, but with the belly and the inside of the legs as white
as the driven snow.
“A splendid shot!” exclaimed the hunter. “It’s a very rare species of
the antelope, and I hope to be able to prepare his skin in such a way
as to keep it.”
“Indeed!” said Joe, “do you think of doing that, Mr. Kennedy?”
“Why, certainly I do! Just see what a fine hide it is!”
“But Dr. Ferguson will never allow us to take such an extra weight!”
“You’re right, Joe. Still it is a pity to have to leave such a noble
animal.”
“The whole of it? Oh, we won’t do that, sir; we’ll take all the good
eatable parts of it, and, if you’ll let me, I’ll cut him up just as
well as the chairman of the honorable corporation of butchers of the
city of London could do.”
“As you please, my boy! But you know that in my hunter’s way I can just
as easily skin and cut up a piece of game as kill it.”
“I’m sure of that, Mr. Kennedy. Well, then, you can build a fireplace
with a few stones; there’s plenty of dry dead-wood, and I can make the
hot coals tell in a few minutes.”
“Oh! that won’t take long,” said Kennedy, going to work on the
fireplace, where he had a brisk flame crackling and sparkling in a
minute or two.
Joe had cut some of the nicest steaks and the best parts of the
tenderloin from the carcass of the antelope, and these were quickly
transformed to the most savory of broils.
“There, those will tickle the doctor!” said Kennedy.
“Do you know what I was thinking about?” said Joe.
“Why, about the steaks you’re broiling, to be sure!” replied Dick.
“Not the least in the world. I was thinking what a figure we’d cut if
we couldn’t find the balloon again.”
“By George, what an idea! Why, do you think the doctor would desert
us?”
“No; but suppose his anchor were to slip!”
“Impossible! and, besides, the doctor would find no difficulty in
coming down again with his balloon; he handles it at his ease.”
“But suppose the wind were to sweep it off, so that he couldn’t come
back toward us?”
“Come, come, Joe! a truce to your suppositions; they’re any thing but
pleasant.”
“Ah! sir, every thing that happens in this world is natural, of course;
but, then, any thing may happen, and we ought to look out beforehand.”
At this moment the report of a gun rang out upon the air.
“What’s that?” exclaimed Joe.
“It’s my rifle, I know the ring of her!” said Kennedy.
“A signal!”
“Yes; danger for us!”
“For him, too, perhaps.”
“Let’s be off!”
And the hunters, having gathered up the product of their expedition,
rapidly made their way back along the path that they had marked by
breaking boughs and bushes when they came. The density of the
underbrush prevented their seeing the balloon, although they could not
be far from it.
A second shot was heard.
“We must hurry!” said Joe.
“There! a third report!”
“Why, it sounds to me as if he was defending himself against
something.”
“Let us make haste!”
They now began to run at the top of their speed. When they reached the
outskirts of the forest, they, at first glance, saw the balloon in its
place and the doctor in the car.
“What’s the matter?” shouted Kennedy.
“Good God!” suddenly exclaimed Joe.
“What do you see?”
“Down there! look! a crowd of blacks surrounding the balloon!”
And, in fact, there, two miles from where they were, they saw some
thirty wild natives close together, yelling, gesticulating, and cutting
all kinds of antics at the foot of the sycamore. Some, climbing into
the tree itself, were making their way to the topmost branches. The
danger seemed pressing.
“My master is lost!” cried Joe.
“Come! a little more coolness, Joe, and let us see how we stand. We
hold the lives of four of those villains in our hands. Forward, then!”
They had made a mile with headlong speed, when another report was heard
from the car. The shot had, evidently, told upon a huge black demon,
who had been hoisting himself up by the anchor-rope. A lifeless body
fell from bough to bough, and hung about twenty feet from the ground,
its arms and legs swaying to and fro in the air.
“Ha!” said Joe, halting, “what does that fellow hold by?”
“No matter what!” said Kennedy; “let us run! let us run!”
“Ah! Mr. Kennedy,” said Joe, again, in a roar of laughter, “by his
tail! by his tail! it’s an ape! They’re all apes!”
“Well, they’re worse than men!” said Kennedy, as he dashed into the
midst of the howling crowd.
It was, indeed, a troop of very formidable baboons of the dog-faced
species. These creatures are brutal, ferocious, and horrible to look
upon, with their dog-like muzzles and savage expression. However, a few
shots scattered them, and the chattering horde scampered off, leaving
several of their number on the ground.
In a moment Kennedy was on the ladder, and Joe, clambering up the
branches, detached the anchor; the car then dipped to where he was, and
he got into it without difficulty. A few minutes later, the _Victoria_
slowly ascended and soared away to the eastward, wafted by a moderate
wind.
“That was an attack for you!” said Joe.
“We thought you were surrounded by natives.”
“Well, fortunately, they were only apes,” said the doctor.
“At a distance there’s no great difference,” remarked Kennedy.
“Nor close at hand, either,” added Joe.
“Well, however that may be,” resumed Ferguson, “this attack of apes
might have had the most serious consequences. Had the anchor yielded to
their repeated efforts, who knows whither the wind would have carried
me?”
“What did I tell you, Mr. Kennedy?”
“You were right, Joe; but, even right as you may have been, you were,
at that moment, preparing some antelope-steaks, the very sight of which
gave me a monstrous appetite.”
“I believe you!” said the doctor; “the flesh of the antelope is
exquisite.”
“You may judge of that yourself, now, sir, for supper’s ready.”
“Upon my word as a sportsman, those venison-steaks have a gamy flavor
that’s not to be sneezed at, I tell you.”
“Good!” said Joe, with his mouth full, “I could live on antelope all
the days of my life; and all the better with a glass of grog to wash it
down.”
So saying, the good fellow went to work to prepare a jorum of that
fragrant beverage, and all hands tasted it with satisfaction.
“Every thing has gone well thus far,” said he.
“Very well indeed!” assented Kennedy.
“Come, now, Mr. Kennedy, are you sorry that you came with us?”
“I’d like to see anybody prevent my coming!”
It was now four o’clock in the afternoon. The _Victoria_ had struck a
more rapid current. The face of the country was gradually rising, and,
ere long, the barometer indicated a height of fifteen hundred feet
above the level of the sea. The doctor was, therefore, obliged to keep
his balloon up by a quite considerable dilation of gas, and the
cylinder was hard at work all the time.
Toward seven o’clock, the balloon was sailing over the basin of
Kanyemé. The doctor immediately recognized that immense clearing, ten
miles in extent, with its villages buried in the midst of baobab and
calabash trees. It is the residence of one of the sultans of the Ugogo
country, where civilization is, perhaps, the least backward. The
natives there are less addicted to selling members of their own
families, but still, men and animals all live together in round huts,
without frames, that look like haystacks.
Beyond Kanyemé the soil becomes arid and stony, but in an hour’s
journey, in a fertile dip of the soil, vegetation had resumed all its
vigor at some distance from Mdaburu. The wind fell with the close of
the day, and the atmosphere seemed to sleep. The doctor vainly sought
for a current of air at different heights, and, at last, seeing this
calm of all nature, he resolved to pass the night afloat, and, for
greater safety, rose to the height of one thousand feet, where the
balloon remained motionless. The night was magnificent, the heavens
glittering with stars, and profoundly silent in the upper air.
Dick and Joe stretched themselves on their peaceful couch, and were
soon sound asleep, the doctor keeping the first watch. At twelve
o’clock the latter was relieved by Kennedy.
“Should the slightest accident happen, waken me,” said Ferguson, “and,
above all things, don’t lose sight of the barometer. To us it is the
compass!”
The night was cold. There were twenty-seven degrees of difference
between its temperature and that of the daytime. With nightfall had
begun the nocturnal concert of animals driven from their hiding-places
by hunger and thirst. The frogs struck in their guttural soprano,
redoubled by the yelping of the jackals, while the imposing bass of the
African lion sustained the accords of this living orchestra.
Upon resuming his post, in the morning, the doctor consulted his
compass, and found that the wind had changed during the night. The
balloon had been bearing about thirty miles to the northwest during the
last two hours. It was then passing over Mabunguru, a stony country,
strewn with blocks of syenite of a fine polish, and knobbed with huge
bowlders and angular ridges of rock; conic masses, like the rocks of
Karnak, studded the soil like so many Druidic dolmens; the bones of
buffaloes and elephants whitened it here and there; but few trees could
be seen, excepting in the east, where there were dense woods, among
which a few villages lay half concealed.
Toward seven o’clock they saw a huge round rock nearly two miles in
extent, like an immense tortoise.
“We are on the right track,” said Dr. Ferguson. “There’s
Jihoue-la-Mkoa, where we must halt for a few minutes. I am going to
renew the supply of water necessary for my cylinder, and so let us try
to anchor somewhere.”
“There are very few trees,” replied the hunter.
“Never mind, let us try. Joe, throw out the anchors!”
The balloon, gradually losing its ascensional force, approached the
ground; the anchors ran along until, at last, one of them caught in the
fissure of a rock, and the balloon remained motionless.
It must not be supposed that the doctor could entirely extinguish his
cylinder, during these halts. The equilibrium of the balloon had been
calculated at the level of the sea; and, as the country was continually
ascending, and had reached an elevation of from six to seven hundred
feet, the balloon would have had a tendency to go lower than the
surface of the soil itself. It was, therefore, necessary to sustain it
by a certain dilation of the gas. But, in case the doctor, in the
absence of all wind, had let the car rest upon the ground, the balloon,
thus relieved of a considerable weight, would have kept up of itself,
without the aid of the cylinder.
The maps indicated extensive ponds on the western slope of the
Jihoue-la-Mkoa. Joe went thither alone with a cask that would hold
about ten gallons. He found the place pointed out to him, without
difficulty, near to a deserted village; got his stock of water, and
returned in less than three-quarters of an hour. He had seen nothing
particular excepting some immense elephant-pits. In fact, he came very
near falling into one of them, at the bottom of which lay a half-eaten
carcass.
He brought back with him a sort of clover which the apes eat with
avidity. The doctor recognized the fruit of the “mbenbu”-tree which
grows in profusion, on the western part of Jihoue-la-Mkoa. Ferguson
waited for Joe with a certain feeling of impatience, for even a short
halt in this inhospitable region always inspires a degree of fear.
The water was got aboard without trouble, as the car was nearly resting
on the ground. Joe then found it easy to loosen the anchor and leaped
lightly to his place beside the doctor. The latter then replenished the
flame in the cylinder, and the balloon majestically soared into the
air.
It was then about one hundred miles from Kazeh, an important
establishment in the interior of Africa, where, thanks to a
south-southeasterly current, the travellers might hope to arrive on
that same day. They were moving at the rate of fourteen miles per hour,
and the guidance of the balloon was becoming difficult, as they dared
not rise very high without extreme dilation of the gas, the country
itself being at an average height of three thousand feet. Hence, the
doctor preferred not to force the dilation, and so adroitly followed
the sinuosities of a pretty sharply-inclined plane, and swept very
close to the villages of Thembo and Tura-Wels. The latter forms part of
the Unyamwezy, a magnificent country, where the trees attain enormous
dimensions; among them the cactus, which grows to gigantic size.
About two o’clock, in magnificent weather, but under a fiery sun that
devoured the least breath of air, the balloon was floating over the
town of Kazeh, situated about three hundred and fifty miles from the
coast.
“We left Zanzibar at nine o’clock in the morning,” said the doctor,
consulting his notes, “and, after two days’ passage, we have, including
our deviations, travelled nearly five hundred geographical miles.
Captains Burton and Speke took four months and a half to make the same
distance!”
CHAPTER FIFTEENTH.
Kazeh.—The Noisy Market-place.—The Appearance of the Balloon.—The
Wangaga.—The Sons of the Moon.—The Doctor’s Walk.—The Population of the
Place.—The Royal Tembe.—The Sultan’s Wives.—A Royal Drunken-Bout.—Joe
an Object of Worship.—How they Dance in the Moon.—A Reaction.—Two Moons
in one Sky.—The Instability of Divine Honors.
Kazeh, an important point in Central Africa, is not a city; in truth,
there are no cities in the interior. Kazeh is but a collection of six
extensive excavations. There are enclosed a few houses and slave-huts,
with little court-yards and small gardens, carefully cultivated with
onions, potatoes, cucumbers, pumpkins, and mushrooms, of perfect
flavor, growing most luxuriantly.
The Unyamwezy is the country of the Moon—above all the rest, the
fertile and magnificent garden-spot of Africa. In its centre is the
district of Unyanembe—a delicious region, where some families of Omani,
who are of very pure Arabic origin, live in luxurious idleness.
They have, for a long period, held the commerce between the interior of
Africa and Arabia: they trade in gums, ivory, fine muslin, and slaves.
Their caravans traverse these equatorial regions on all sides; and they
even make their way to the coast in search of those articles of luxury
and enjoyment which the wealthy merchants covet; while the latter,
surrounded by their wives and their attendants, lead in this charming
country the least disturbed and most horizontal of lives—always
stretched at full length, laughing, smoking, or sleeping.
Around these excavations are numerous native dwellings; wide, open
spaces for the markets; fields of _cannabis_ and _datura;_ superb trees
and depths of freshest shade—such is Kazeh!
There, too, is held the general rendezvous of the caravans—those of the
south, with their slaves and their freightage of ivory; and those of
the west, which export cotton, glassware, and trinkets, to the tribes
of the great lakes.
So in the market-place there reigns perpetual excitement, a nameless
hubbub, made up of the cries of mixed-breed porters and carriers, the
beating of drums, and the twanging of horns, the neighing of mules, the
braying of donkeys, the singing of women, the squalling of children,
and the banging of the huge rattan, wielded by the jemadar or leader of
the caravans, who beats time to this pastoral symphony.
There, spread forth, without regard to order—indeed, we may say, in
charming disorder—are the showy stuffs, the glass beads, the ivory
tusks, the rhinoceros’-teeth, the shark’s-teeth, the honey, the
tobacco, and the cotton of these regions, to be purchased at the
strangest of bargains by customers in whose eyes each article has a
price only in proportion to the desire it excites to possess it.
All at once this agitation, movement and noise stopped as though by
magic. The balloon had just come in sight, far aloft in the sky, where
it hovered majestically for a few moments, and then descended slowly,
without deviating from its perpendicular. Men, women, children,
merchants and slaves, Arabs and negroes, as suddenly disappeared within
the “tembes” and the huts.
“My dear doctor,” said Kennedy, “if we continue to produce such a
sensation as this, we shall find some difficulty in establishing
commercial relations with the people hereabouts.”
“There’s one kind of trade that we might carry on, though, easily
enough,” said Joe; “and that would be to go down there quietly, and
walk off with the best of the goods, without troubling our heads about
the merchants; we’d get rich that way!”
“Ah!” said the doctor, “these natives are a little scared at first; but
they won’t be long in coming back, either through suspicion or through
curiosity.”
“Do you really think so, doctor?”
“Well, we’ll see pretty soon. But it wouldn’t be prudent to go too near
to them, for the balloon is not iron-clad, and is, therefore, not proof
against either an arrow or a bullet.”
“Then you expect to hold a parley with these blacks?”
“If we can do so safely, why should we not? There must be some Arab
merchants here at Kazeh, who are better informed than the rest, and not
so barbarous. I remember that Burton and Speke had nothing but praises
to utter concerning the hospitality of these people; so we might, at
least, make the venture.”
The balloon having, meanwhile, gradually approached the ground, one of
the anchors lodged in the top of a tree near the market-place.
By this time the whole population had emerged from their hiding-places
stealthily, thrusting their heads out first. Several “waganga,”
recognizable by their badges of conical shellwork, came boldly forward.
They were the sorcerers of the place. They bore in their girdles small
gourds, coated with tallow, and several other articles of witchcraft,
all of them, by-the-way, most professionally filthy.
Little by little the crowd gathered beside them, the women and children
grouped around them, the drums renewed their deafening uproar, hands
were violently clapped together, and then raised toward the sky.
“That’s their style of praying,” said the doctor; “and, if I’m not
mistaken, we’re going to be called upon to play a great part.”
“Well, sir, play it!”
“You, too, my good Joe—perhaps you’re to be a god!”
“Well, master, that won’t trouble me much. I like a little flattery!”
At this moment, one of the sorcerers, a “myanga,” made a sign, and all
the clamor died away into the profoundest silence. He then addressed a
few words to the strangers, but in an unknown tongue.
Dr. Ferguson, not having understood them, shouted some sentences in
Arabic, at a venture, and was immediately answered in that language.
The speaker below then delivered himself of a very copious harangue,
which was also very flowery and very gravely listened to by his
audience. From it the doctor was not slow in learning that the balloon
was mistaken for nothing less than the moon in person, and that the
amiable goddess in question had condescended to approach the town with
her three sons—an honor that would never be forgotten in this land so
greatly loved by the god of day.
The doctor responded, with much dignity, that the moon made her
provincial tour every thousand years, feeling the necessity of showing
herself nearer at hand to her worshippers. He, therefore, begged them
not to be disturbed by her presence, but to take advantage of it to
make known all their wants and longings.
The sorcerer, in his turn, replied that the sultan, the “mwani,” who
had been sick for many years, implored the aid of heaven, and he
invited the son of the moon to visit him.
The doctor acquainted his companions with the invitation.
“And you are going to call upon this negro king?” asked Kennedy.
“Undoubtedly so; these people appear well disposed; the air is calm;
there is not a breath of wind, and we have nothing to fear for the
balloon?”
“But, what will you do?”
“Be quiet on that score, my dear Dick. With a little medicine, I shall
work my way through the affair!”
Then, addressing the crowd, he said:
“The moon, taking compassion on the sovereign who is so dear to the
children of Unyamwezy, has charged us to restore him to health. Let him
prepare to receive us!”
The clamor, the songs and demonstrations of all kinds increased
twofold, and the whole immense ants’ nest of black heads was again in
motion.
“Now, my friends,” said Dr. Ferguson, “we must look out for every thing
beforehand; we may be forced to leave this at any moment, unexpectedly,
and be off with extra speed. Dick had better remain, therefore, in the
car, and keep the cylinder warm so as to secure a sufficient
ascensional force for the balloon. The anchor is solidly fastened, and
there is nothing to fear in that respect. I shall descend, and Joe will
go with me, only that he must remain at the foot of the ladder.”
“What! are you going alone into that blackamoor’s den?”
“How! doctor, am I not to go with you?”
“No! I shall go alone; these good folks imagine that the goddess of the
moon has come to see them, and their superstition protects me; so have
no fear, and each one remain at the post that I have assigned to him.”
“Well, since you wish it,” sighed Kennedy.
“Look closely to the dilation of the gas.”
“Agreed!”
By this time the shouts of the natives had swelled to double volume as
they vehemently implored the aid of the heavenly powers.
“There, there,” said Joe, “they’re rather rough in their orders to
their good moon and her divine sons.”
The doctor, equipped with his travelling medicine-chest, descended to
the ground, preceded by Joe, who kept a straight countenance and looked
as grave and knowing as the circumstances of the case required. He then
seated himself at the foot of the ladder in the Arab fashion, with his
legs crossed under him, and a portion of the crowd collected around him
in a circle, at respectful distances.
In the meanwhile the doctor, escorted to the sound of savage
instruments, and with wild religious dances, slowly proceeded toward
the royal “tembe,” situated a considerable distance outside of the
town. It was about three o’clock, and the sun was shining brilliantly.
In fact, what less could it do upon so grand an occasion!
The doctor stepped along with great dignity, the waganga surrounding
him and keeping off the crowd. He was soon joined by the natural son of
the sultan, a handsomely-built young fellow, who, according to the
custom of the country, was the sole heir of the paternal goods, to the
exclusion of the old man’s legitimate children. He prostrated himself
before the son of the moon, but the latter graciously raised him to his
feet.
Three-quarters of an hour later, through shady paths, surrounded by all
the luxuriance of tropical vegetation, this enthusiastic procession
arrived at the sultan’s palace, a sort of square edifice called
_ititénya_, and situated on the slope of a hill.
A kind of veranda, formed by the thatched roof, adorned the outside,
supported upon wooden pillars, which had some pretensions to being
carved. Long lines of dark-red clay decorated the walls in characters
that strove to reproduce the forms of men and serpents, the latter
better imitated, of course, than the former. The roofing of this abode
did not rest directly upon the walls, and the air could, therefore,
circulate freely, but windows there were none, and the door hardly
deserved the name.
Dr. Ferguson was received with all the honors by the guards and
favorites of the sultan; these were men of a fine race, the Wanyamwezi
so-called, a pure type of the central African populations, strong,
robust, well-made, and in splendid condition. Their hair, divided into
a great number of small tresses, fell over their shoulders, and by
means of black-and-blue incisions they had tattooed their cheeks from
the temples to the mouth. Their ears, frightfully distended, held
dangling to them disks of wood and plates of gum copal. They were clad
in brilliantly-painted cloths, and the soldiers were armed with the
saw-toothed war-club, the bow and arrows barbed and poisoned with the
juice of the euphorbium, the cutlass, the “sima,” a long sabre (also
with saw-like teeth), and some small battle-axes.
The doctor advanced into the palace, and there, notwithstanding the
sultan’s illness, the din, which was terrific before, redoubled the
instant that he arrived. He noticed, at the lintels of the door, some
rabbits’ tails and zebras’ manes, suspended as talismans. He was
received by the whole troop of his majesty’s wives, to the harmonious
accords of the “upatu,” a sort of cymbal made of the bottom of a copper
kettle, and to the uproar of the “kilindo,” a drum five feet high,
hollowed out from the trunk of a tree, and hammered by the ponderous,
horny fists of two jet-black _virtuosi_.
Most of the women were rather good-looking, and they laughed and
chattered merrily as they smoked their tobacco and “thang” in huge
black pipes. They seemed to be well made, too, under the long robes
that they wore gracefully flung about their persons, and carried a sort
of “kilt” woven from the fibres of calabash fastened around their
girdles.
Six of them were not the least merry of the party, although put aside
from the rest, and reserved for a cruel fate. On the death of the
sultan, they were to be buried alive with him, so as to occupy and
divert his mind during the period of eternal solitude.
Dr. Ferguson, taking in the whole scene at a rapid glance, approached
the wooden couch on which the sultan lay reclining. There he saw a man
of about forty, completely brutalized by orgies of every description,
and in a condition that left little or nothing to be done. The sickness
that had afflicted him for so many years was simply perpetual
drunkenness. The royal sot had nearly lost all consciousness, and all
the ammonia in the world would not have set him on his feet again.
His favorites and the women kept on bended knees during this solemn
visit. By means of a few drops of powerful cordial, the doctor for a
moment reanimated the imbruted carcass that lay before him. The sultan
stirred, and, for a dead body that had given no sign whatever of life
for several hours previously, this symptom was received with a
tremendous repetition of shouts and cries in the doctor’s honor.
The latter, who had seen enough of it by this time, by a rapid motion
put aside his too demonstrative admirers and went out of the palace,
directing his steps immediately toward the balloon, for it was now six
o’clock in the evening.
Joe, during his absence, had been quietly waiting at the foot of the
ladder, where the crowd paid him their most humble respects. Like a
genuine son of the moon, he let them keep on. For a divinity, he had
the air of a very clever sort of fellow, by no means proud, nay, even
pleasingly familiar with the young negresses, who seemed never to tire
of looking at him. Besides, he went so far as to chat agreeably with
them.
“Worship me, ladies! worship me!” he said to them. “I’m a clever sort
of devil, if I am the son of a goddess.”
They brought him propitiatory gifts, such as are usually deposited in
the _fetich_ huts or _mzimu_. These gifts consisted of stalks of barley
and of “pombe.” Joe considered himself in duty bound to taste the
latter species of strong beer, but his palate, although accustomed to
gin and whiskey, could not withstand the strength of the new beverage,
and he had to make a horrible grimace, which his dusky friends took to
be a benevolent smile.
Thereupon, the young damsels, conjoining their voices in a drawling
chant, began to dance around him with the utmost gravity.
“Ah! you’re dancing, are you?” said he. “Well, I won’t be behind you in
politeness, and so I’ll give you one of my country reels.”
So at it he went, in one of the wildest jigs that ever was seen,
twisting, turning, and jerking himself in all directions; dancing with
his hands, dancing with his body, dancing with his knees, dancing with
his feet; describing the most fearful contortions and extravagant
evolutions; throwing himself into incredible attitudes; grimacing
beyond all belief, and, in fine giving his savage admirers a strange
idea of the style of ballet adopted by the deities in the moon.
Then, the whole collection of blacks, naturally as imitative as
monkeys, at once reproduced all his airs and graces, his leaps and
shakes and contortions; they did not lose a single gesticulation; they
did not forget an attitude; and the result was, such a pandemonium of
movement, noise, and excitement, as it would be out of the question
even feebly to describe. But, in the very midst of the fun, Joe saw the
doctor approaching.
The latter was coming at full speed, surrounded by a yelling and
disorderly throng. The chiefs and sorcerers seemed to be highly
excited. They were close upon the doctor’s heels, crowding and
threatening him.
Singular reaction! What had happened? Had the sultan unluckily perished
in the hands of his celestial physician?
Kennedy, from his post of observation, saw the danger without knowing
what had caused it, and the balloon, powerfully urged by the dilation
of the gas, strained and tugged at the ropes that held it as though
impatient to soar away.
The doctor had got as far as the foot of the ladder. A superstitious
fear still held the crowd aloof and hindered them from committing any
violence on his person. He rapidly scaled the ladder, and Joe followed
him with his usual agility.
“Not a moment to lose!” said the doctor. “Don’t attempt to let go the
anchor! We’ll cut the cord! Follow me!”
“But what’s the matter?” asked Joe, clambering into the car.
“What’s happened?” questioned Kennedy, rifle in hand.
“Look!” replied the doctor, pointing to the horizon.
“Well?” ejaculated the Scot.
“Well! the moon!”
And, in fact, there was the moon rising red and magnificent, a globe of
fire in a field of blue! It was she, indeed—she and the balloon!—both
in one sky!
Either there were two moons, then, or these strangers were imposters,
designing scamps, false deities!
Such were the very natural reflections of the crowd, and hence the
reaction in their feelings.
Joe could not, for the life of him, keep in a roar of laughter; and the
population of Kazeh, comprehending that their prey was slipping through
their clutches, set up prolonged howlings, aiming, the while, their
bows and muskets at the balloon.
But one of the sorcerers made a sign, and all the weapons were lowered.
He then began to climb into the tree, intending to seize the rope and
bring the machine to the ground.
Joe leaned out with a hatchet ready. “Shall I cut away?” said he.
“No; wait a moment,” replied the doctor.
“But this black?”
“We may, perhaps, save our anchor—and I hold a great deal by that.
There’ll always be time enough to cut loose.”
The sorcerer, having climbed to the right place, worked so vigorously
that he succeeded in detaching the anchor, and the latter, violently
jerked, at that moment, by the start of the balloon, caught the rascal
between the limbs, and carried him off astride of it through the air.
The stupefaction of the crowd was indescribable as they saw one of
their waganga thus whirled away into space.
“Huzza!” roared Joe, as the balloon—thanks to its ascensional
force—shot up higher into the sky, with increased rapidity.
“He holds on well,” said Kennedy; “a little trip will do him good.”
“Shall we let this darky drop all at once?” inquired Joe.
“Oh no,” replied the doctor, “we’ll let him down easily; and I warrant
me that, after such an adventure, the power of the wizard will be
enormously enhanced in the sight of his comrades.”
“Why, I wouldn’t put it past them to make a god of him!” said Joe, with
a laugh.
The _Victoria_, by this time, had risen to the height of one thousand
feet, and the black hung to the rope with desperate energy. He had
become completely silent, and his eyes were fixed, for his terror was
blended with amazement. A light west wind was sweeping the balloon
right over the town, and far beyond it.
Half an hour later, the doctor, seeing the country deserted, moderated
the flame of his cylinder, and descended toward the ground. At twenty
feet above the turf, the affrighted sorcerer made up his mind in a
twinkling: he let himself drop, fell on his feet, and scampered off at
a furious pace toward Kazeh; while the balloon, suddenly relieved of
his weight, again shot up on her course.
CHAPTER SIXTEENTH.
Symptoms of a Storm.—The Country of the Moon.—The Future of the African
Continent.—The Last Machine of all.—A View of the Country at
Sunset.—Flora and Fauna.—The Tempest.—The Zone of Fire.—The Starry
Heavens.
“See,” said Joe, “what comes of playing the sons of the moon without
her leave! She came near serving us an ugly trick. But say, master, did
you damage your credit as a physician?”
“Yes, indeed,” chimed in the sportsman. “What kind of a dignitary was
this Sultan of Kazeh?”
“An old half-dead sot,” replied the doctor, “whose loss will not be
very severely felt. But the moral of all this is that honors are
fleeting, and we must not take too great a fancy to them.”
“So much the worse!” rejoined Joe. “I liked the thing—to be
worshipped!—Play the god as you like! Why, what would any one ask more
than that? By-the-way, the moon did come up, too, and all red, as if
she was in a rage.”
While the three friends went on chatting of this and other things, and
Joe examined the luminary of night from an entirely novel point of
view, the heavens became covered with heavy clouds to the northward,
and the lowering masses assumed a most sinister and threatening look.
Quite a smart breeze, found about three hundred feet from the earth,
drove the balloon toward the north-northeast; and above it the blue
vault was clear; but the atmosphere felt close and dull.
The aëronauts found themselves, at about eight in the evening, in
thirty-two degrees forty minutes east longitude, and four degrees
seventeen minutes latitude. The atmospheric currents, under the
influence of a tempest not far off, were driving them at the rate of
from thirty to thirty-five miles an hour; the undulating and fertile
plains of Mfuto were passing swiftly beneath them. The spectacle was
one worthy of admiration—and admire it they did.
“We are now right in the country of the Moon,” said Dr. Ferguson; “for
it has retained the name that antiquity gave it, undoubtedly, because
the moon has been worshipped there in all ages. It is, really, a superb
country.”
“It would be hard to find more splendid vegetation.”
“If we found the like of it around London it would not be natural, but
it would be very pleasant,” put in Joe. “Why is it that such savage
countries get all these fine things?”
“And who knows,” said the doctor, “that this country may not, one day,
become the centre of civilization? The races of the future may repair
hither, when Europe shall have become exhausted in the effort to feed
her inhabitants.”
“Do you think so, really?” asked Kennedy.
“Undoubtedly, my dear Dick. Just note the progress of events: consider
the migrations of races, and you will arrive at the same conclusion
assuredly. Asia was the first nurse of the world, was she not? For
about four thousand years she travailed, she grew pregnant, she
produced, and then, when stones began to cover the soil where the
golden harvests sung by Homer had flourished, her children abandoned
her exhausted and barren bosom. You next see them precipitating
themselves upon young and vigorous Europe, which has nourished them for
the last two thousand years. But already her fertility is beginning to
die out; her productive powers are diminishing every day. Those new
diseases that annually attack the products of the soil, those defective
crops, those insufficient resources, are all signs of a vitality that
is rapidly wearing out and of an approaching exhaustion. Thus, we
already see the millions rushing to the luxuriant bosom of America, as
a source of help, not inexhaustible indeed, but not yet exhausted. In
its turn, that new continent will grow old; its virgin forests will
fall before the axe of industry, and its soil will become weak through
having too fully produced what had been demanded of it. Where two
harvests bloomed every year, hardly one will be gathered from a soil
completely drained of its strength. Then, Africa will be there to offer
to new races the treasures that for centuries have been accumulating in
her breast. Those climates now so fatal to strangers will be purified
by cultivation and by drainage of the soil, and those scattered water
supplies will be gathered into one common bed to form an artery of
navigation. Then this country over which we are now passing, more
fertile, richer, and fuller of vitality than the rest, will become some
grand realm where more astonishing discoveries than steam and
electricity will be brought to light.”
“Ah! sir,” said Joe, “I’d like to see all that.”
“You got up too early in the morning, my boy!”
“Besides,” said Kennedy, “that may prove to be a very dull period when
industry will swallow up every thing for its own profit. By dint of
inventing machinery, men will end in being eaten up by it! I have
always fancied that the end of the earth will be when some enormous
boiler, heated to three thousand millions of atmospheric pressure,
shall explode and blow up our Globe!”
“And I add that the Americans,” said Joe, “will not have been the last
to work at the machine!”
“In fact,” assented the doctor, “they are great boiler-makers! But,
without allowing ourselves to be carried away by such speculations, let
us rest content with enjoying the beauties of this country of the Moon,
since we have been permitted to see it.”
The sun, darting his last rays beneath the masses of heaped-up cloud,
adorned with a crest of gold the slightest inequalities of the ground
below; gigantic trees, arborescent bushes, mosses on the even
surface—all had their share of this luminous effulgence. The soil,
slightly undulating, here and there rose into little conical hills;
there were no mountains visible on the horizon; immense brambly
palisades, impenetrable hedges of thorny jungle, separated the
clearings dotted with numerous villages, and immense euphorbiae
surrounded them with natural fortifications, interlacing their trunks
with the coral-shaped branches of the shrubbery and undergrowth.
Ere long, the Malagazeri, the chief tributary of Lake Tanganayika, was
seen winding between heavy thickets of verdure, offering an asylum to
many water-courses that spring from the torrents formed in the season
of freshets, or from ponds hollowed in the clayey soil. To observers
looking from a height, it was a chain of waterfalls thrown across the
whole western face of the country.
Animals with huge humps were feeding in the luxuriant prairies, and
were half hidden, sometimes, in the tall grass; spreading forests in
bloom redolent of spicy perfumes presented themselves to the gaze like
immense bouquets; but, in these bouquets, lions, leopards, hyenas, and
tigers, were then crouching for shelter from the last hot rays of the
setting sun. From time to time, an elephant made the tall tops of the
undergrowth sway to and fro, and you could hear the crackling of huge
branches as his ponderous ivory tusks broke them in his way.
“What a sporting country!” exclaimed Dick, unable longer to restrain
his enthusiasm; “why, a single ball fired at random into those forests
would bring down game worthy of it. Suppose we try it once!”
“No, my dear Dick; the night is close at hand—a threatening night with
a tempest in the background—and the storms are awful in this country,
where the heated soil is like one vast electric battery.”
“You are right, sir,” said Joe, “the heat has got to be enough to choke
one, and the breeze has died away. One can feel that something’s
coming.”
“The atmosphere is saturated with electricity,” replied the doctor;
“every living creature is sensible that this state of the air portends
a struggle of the elements, and I confess that I never before was so
full of the fluid myself.”
“Well, then,” suggested Dick, “would it not be advisable to alight?”
“On the contrary, Dick, I’d rather go up, only that I am afraid of
being carried out of my course by these counter-currents contending in
the atmosphere.”
“Have you any idea, then, of abandoning the route that we have followed
since we left the coast?”
“If I can manage to do so,” replied the doctor, “I will turn more
directly northward, by from seven to eight degrees; I shall then
endeavor to ascend toward the presumed latitudes of the sources of the
Nile; perhaps we may discover some traces of Captain Speke’s expedition
or of M. de Heuglin’s caravan. Unless I am mistaken, we are at
thirty-two degrees forty minutes east longitude, and I should like to
ascend directly north of the equator.”
“Look there!” exclaimed Kennedy, suddenly, “see those hippopotami
sliding out of the pools—those masses of blood-colored flesh—and those
crocodiles snuffing the air aloud!”
“They’re choking!” ejaculated Joe. “Ah! what a fine way to travel this
is; and how one can snap his fingers at all that vermin!—Doctor! Mr.
Kennedy! see those packs of wild animals hurrying along close together.
There are fully two hundred. Those are wolves.”
“No! Joe, not wolves, but wild dogs; a famous breed that does not
hesitate to attack the lion himself. They are the worst customers a
traveller could meet, for they would instantly tear him to pieces.”
“Well, it isn’t Joe that’ll undertake to muzzle them!” responded that
amiable youth. “After all, though, if that’s the nature of the beast,
we mustn’t be too hard on them for it!”
Silence gradually settled down under the influence of the impending
storm: the thickened air actually seemed no longer adapted to the
transmission of sound; the atmosphere appeared _muffled_, and, like a
room hung with tapestry, lost all its sonorous reverberation. The
“rover bird” so-called, the coroneted crane, the red and blue jays, the
mocking-bird, the flycatcher, disappeared among the foliage of the
immense trees, and all nature revealed symptoms of some approaching
catastrophe.
At nine o’clock the _Victoria_ hung motionless over Msene, an extensive
group of villages scarcely distinguishable in the gloom. Once in a
while, the reflection of a wandering ray of light in the dull water
disclosed a succession of ditches regularly arranged, and, by one last
gleam, the eye could make out the calm and sombre forms of palm-trees,
sycamores, and gigantic euphorbiae.
“I am stifling!” said the Scot, inhaling, with all the power of his
lungs, as much as possible of the rarefied air. “We are not moving an
inch! Let us descend!”
“But the tempest!” said the doctor, with much uneasiness.
“If you are afraid of being carried away by the wind, it seems to me
that there is no other course to pursue.”
“Perhaps the storm won’t burst to-night,” said Joe; “the clouds are
very high.”
“That is just the thing that makes me hesitate about going beyond them;
we should have to rise still higher, lose sight of the earth, and not
know all night whether we were moving forward or not, or in what
direction we were going.”
“Make up your mind, dear doctor, for time presses!”
“It’s a pity that the wind has fallen,” said Joe, again; “it would have
carried us clear of the storm.”
“It is, indeed, a pity, my friends,” rejoined the doctor. “The clouds
are dangerous for us; they contain opposing currents which might catch
us in their eddies, and lightnings that might set on fire. Again, those
perils avoided, the force of the tempest might hurl us to the ground,
were we to cast our anchor in the tree-tops.”
“Then what shall we do?”
“Well, we must try to get the balloon into a medium zone of the
atmosphere, and there keep her suspended between the perils of the
heavens and those of the earth. We have enough water for the cylinder,
and our two hundred pounds of ballast are untouched. In case of
emergency I can use them.”
“We will keep watch with you,” said the hunter.
“No, my friends, put the provisions under shelter, and lie down; I will
rouse you, if it becomes necessary.”
“But, master, wouldn’t you do well to take some rest yourself, as
there’s no danger close on us just now?” insisted poor Joe.
“No, thank you, my good fellow, I prefer to keep awake. We are not
moving, and should circumstances not change, we’ll find ourselves
to-morrow in exactly the same place.”
“Good-night, then, sir!”
“Good-night, if you can only find it so!”
Kennedy and Joe stretched themselves out under their blankets, and the
doctor remained alone in the immensity of space.
However, the huge dome of clouds visibly descended, and the darkness
became profound. The black vault closed in upon the earth as if to
crush it in its embrace.
All at once a violent, rapid, incisive flash of lightning pierced the
gloom, and the rent it made had not closed ere a frightful clap of
thunder shook the celestial depths.
“Up! up! turn out!” shouted Ferguson.
The two sleepers, aroused by the terrible concussion, were at the
doctor’s orders in a moment.
“Shall we descend?” said Kennedy.
“No! the balloon could not stand it. Let us go up before those clouds
dissolve in water, and the wind is let loose!” and, so saying, the
doctor actively stirred up the flame of the cylinder, and turned it on
the spirals of the serpentine siphon.
The tempests of the tropics develop with a rapidity equalled only by
their violence. A second flash of lightning rent the darkness, and was
followed by a score of others in quick succession. The sky was crossed
and dotted, like the zebra’s hide, with electric sparks, which danced
and flickered beneath the great drops of rain.
“We have delayed too long,” exclaimed the doctor; “we must now pass
through a zone of fire, with our balloon filled as it is with
inflammable gas!”
“But let us descend, then! let us descend!” urged Kennedy.
“The risk of being struck would be just about even, and we should soon
be torn to pieces by the branches of the trees!”
“We are going up, doctor!”
“Quicker, quicker still!”
In this part of Africa, during the equatorial storms, it is not rare to
count from thirty to thirty-five flashes of lightning per minute. The
sky is literally on fire, and the crashes of thunder are continuous.
The wind burst forth with frightful violence in this burning
atmosphere; it twisted the blazing clouds; one might have compared it
to the breath of some gigantic bellows, fanning all this conflagration.
Dr. Ferguson kept his cylinder at full heat, and the balloon dilated
and went up, while Kennedy, on his knees, held together the curtains of
the awning. The balloon whirled round wildly enough to make their heads
turn, and the aëronauts got some very alarming jolts, indeed, as their
machine swung and swayed in all directions. Huge cavities would form in
the silk of the balloon as the wind fiercely bent it in, and the stuff
fairly cracked like a pistol as it flew back from the pressure. A sort
of hail, preceded by a rumbling noise, hissed through the air and
rattled on the covering of the _Victoria_. The la
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