Olbinett listened without understanding. Moreover, the unknown kept talking, and passed from one subject to another with extreme volubility.
“Well,” said he, “has not the captain risen yet? And the mate? What is he doing? Is he asleep, too? Fortunately, the weather is beautiful, the wind favorable, and the ship goes on quite by herself—”
Just as he said this, Captain Mangles appeared at the companionway.
“Here is the captain,” said Olbinett.
“Ah, I am delighted,” cried the stranger, “delighted to make your acquaintance, Captain Burton!”
If anyone was ever astounded, John Mangles certainly was, not less at hearing himself called “Captain Burton,” than at seeing this stranger on board his vessel.
The latter continued, with more animation:
“Permit me to shake hands with you, and if I did not do so day before yesterday, it was that no one might be embarrassed at the moment of departure. But today, captain, I am truly happy to meet you.”
Captain Mangles opened his eyes in measureless astonishment, looking first at Olbinett, and then at the newcomer.
“Now,” continued the latter, “the introduction is over, and we are old friends. Let us have a talk; and tell me, are you satisfied with the Scotia?”
“What do you mean by the Scotia?” asked the captain, at last.
“Why, the Scotia that carries us: a good ship, whose commander, the brave Captain Burton, I have heard praised no less for his physical than his moral qualities. Are you the father of the great African traveler of that name? If so, my compliments!”
“Sir,” replied Captain Mangles, “not only am I not the father of the traveler Burton, but I am not even Captain Burton.”
“Ah!” said the unknown, “it is the mate of the Scotia then, Mr. Burdness, whom I am addressing at this moment?”
“Mr. Burdness?” replied Captain Mangles, who began to suspect the truth. But was he talking to a fool, or a rogue? This was a question in his mind, and he was about to explain himself intelligibly, when Lord Glenarvan, his wife, and Miss Grant came on deck.
The stranger perceived them, and cried—
“Ah! passengers! passengers! excellent! I hope, Mr. Burdness, you are going to introduce me—”
And advancing with perfect ease, without waiting for the captain—
“Madam,” said he to Miss Grant, “Miss,” to Lady Helena, “Sir,” he added, addressing Lord Glenarvan.
“Lord Glenarvan,” said Captain Mangles.
“My lord,” continued the unknown, “I beg your pardon for introducing myself, but at sea we must relax a little from etiquette. I hope we shall soon be acquainted, and that, in the society of these ladies, the passage of the Scotia will seem as short to us as agreeable.”
Lady Helena and Miss Grant could not find a word to answer. They were completely bewildered by the presence of this intruder.
“Sir,” said Glenarvan, at length, “whom have I the honor of addressing?”
“Jacques Eliacim François Marie Paganel, secretary of the Geographical Society of Paris; corresponding member of the societies of Berlin, Bombay, Darmstadt, Leipzig, London, St. Petersburg, Vienna, and New York; honorary member of the Royal Geographical and Ethnographical Institute of the East Indies, who, after passing twenty years of his life in studying geography, designs now to enter upon a roving life, and is directing his course to India to continue there the labors of the great travelers.”
VII
Jacques Paganel Is Undeceived
The secretary of the Geographical Society must have been an agreeable person, for all this was said with much modesty. Lord Glenarvan, moreover, knew perfectly whom he had met. The name and merit of Jacques Paganel were well known to him. His geographical labors, his reports on modern discoveries, published in the bulletins of the Society, his correspondence with the entire world, had made him one of the most distinguished scientific men of France. Thus Glenarvan extended his hand very cordially to his unexpected guest.
“And now that our introduction is over,” added he, “will you permit me, Monsieur Paganel, to ask you a question?”
“Twenty, my lord,” replied Jacques Paganel; “it will always be a pleasure to converse with you.”
“You arrived on board this vessel the day before yesterday?”
“Yes, my lord, day before yesterday, at eight o’clock in the evening. I took a cab from the Caledonian Railway to the Scotia, in which I had engaged cabin number six at Paris. The night was dark. I saw no one on board. Feeling fatigued by thirty hours of travel, and knowing that a good way to avoid seasickness is to go to bed on embarking, and not stir from your bunk for the first days of the voyage, I retired immediately, and have conscientiously slept thirty-six hours, I assure you.”
Jacques Paganel’s hearers now knew the reason of his presence on board. The Frenchman, mistaking the vessel, had embarked while the crew of the Duncan were engaged in the ceremony at Saint Mungo. Everything was explained. But what would the geographer say, when he learned the name and destination of the vessel on which he had taken passage?
“So, Monsieur Paganel,” said Glenarvan, “you have chosen Calcutta as your centre of action?”
“Yes, my lord. To see India is an idea that I have cherished all my life. It is my brightest dream, which shall be realized at last in the country of the elephants and the Thugs.”
“Then you would not care to visit another country?”
“No, my lord; it would be even disagreeable, for I have letters from Lord Somerset to the governor-general of India, and a mission from the Geographical Society which I must fulfil.”
“Ah! you have a mission?”
“Yes, a useful and curious voyage to undertake, the programme of which has been arranged by my scientific friend and colleague, M. Vivien de Saint Martin. It is to follow in the steps of the brothers Schlagintweit, and many other celebrated travelers. I hope to succeed where Missionary Krick unfortunately failed in 1846. In a word, I wish to discover the course of the Yaroo-tsang-bo-tsoo, which waters Tibet, and finally to settle whether this river does not join the Brahmapootra in
