“It is an imperative fact,” said he.
“It is certain,” replied Glenarvan, “that the elements declare themselves against you.”
“I will see about that.”
“You cannot face such a storm,” said Lady Helena.
“I, madam? Certainly. I fear only for my baggage and instruments. They will all be lost.”
“Our landing is the only thing doubtful,” resumed Glenarvan. “Once at Villa-Praïa, you will not have very uncomfortable quarters; rather uncleanly, to be sure, in the company of monkeys and swine, whose surroundings are not always agreeable; but a traveler does not regard that so critically. Besides, you can hope in seven or eight months to embark for Europe.”
“Seven or eight months!” exclaimed Paganel.
“At least that. The Cape Verd Islands are very rarely frequented during the rainy season. But you can employ your time profitably. This archipelago is still little known. There is much to do, even now.”
“But,” replied Paganel in a pitiful tone, “what could I do after the investigations of the geologist Deville?”
“That is really a pity,” said Lady Helena. “What will become of you, Monsieur Paganel?”
Paganel was silent for a few moments.
“You had decidedly better have landed at Madeira,” rejoined Glenarvan, “although there is no wine there.”
“My dear Glenarvan,” continued Paganel at last, “where shall you land next?”
“At Concepcion.”
“Alas! but that would bring me directly away from India!”
“No; for when you have passed Cape Horn you approach the Indies.”
“I very much doubt it.”
“Besides,” continued Glenarvan with the greatest gravity, “as long as you are at the Indies, what difference does it make whether they are the East or the West?”
“ ‘What difference does it make’?”
“The inhabitants of the Pampas of Patagonia are Indians as well as the natives of the Punjab.”
“Eh! my lord,” exclaimed Paganel, “that is a reason I should never have imagined!”
“And then, my dear Paganel, you know that you can gain the gold medal in any country whatever. There is something to do, to seek, to discover, everywhere, in the chains of the Cordilleras as well as the mountains of Tibet.”
“But the course of the Yaroo-tsang-bo-tsoo?”
“Certainly. You can replace that by the Rio Colorado. This is a river very little known, and one of those which flow on the map too much according to the fancy of the geographer.”
“I know it, my dear lord; there are errors of several degrees. I do not doubt that at my request the Society would have sent me to Patagonia as well as to India; but I did not think of it.”
“The result of your continual abstraction.”
“Well, Monsieur Paganel, shall you accompany us?” asked Lady Helena in her most persuasive tone.
“And my mission, madam?”
“I inform you that we shall pass through the Strait of Magellan,” continued Glenarvan.
“My lord, you are a tempter.”
“I add that we shall visit Port Famine.”
“Port Famine!” cried the Frenchman, assailed on all sides; “that port so celebrated in geographical fasts!”
“Consider also, Monsieur Paganel,” continued Lady Helena, “that in this enterprise you will have the right to associate the name of France with that of Scotland.”
“Yes; doubtless.”
“A geographer may be very serviceable to our expedition; and what is more noble than for science to enlist in the service of humanity?”
“That is well said, madam.”
“Believe me, try chance, or rather Providence. Imitate us. It has sent us this document; we have started. It has cast you on board the Duncan; do not leave her.”
“And do you, indeed, wish me, my good friends?” replied Paganel. “Well, you desire me to stay very much?”
“And you, Paganel, you are dying to stay,” retorted Glenarvan.
“Truly,” cried the geographer, “but I fear I am very indiscreet.”
Thus far the Duncan had acquitted herself admirably: in every way her powers for steaming or sailing had been sufficiently tested, and her captain and passengers were alike satisfied with her performance and with one another.
IX
Through the Strait of Magellan
The joy on board was general, when Paganel’s resolution was known. Young Robert threw himself on his neck with very demonstrative delight. The worthy geographer almost fell backwards. “A rough little gentleman,” said he; “I will teach him geography.” As Captain Mangles had engaged to make him a sailor, Glenarvan a man of honor, the major a boy of coolness, Lady Helena a noble and generous being, and Mary Grant a pupil grateful towards such patrons, Robert was evidently to become one day an accomplished gentleman.
The Duncan soon finished shipping her coal, and then leaving these gloomy regions she gained the current from the southeast coast of Brazil, and, after crossing the equator with a fine breeze from the north, she entered the southern hemisphere. The passage was effected without difficulty, and everyone had good hopes. On this voyage in search of Captain Grant, the probabilities increased every day. Their captain was one of the most confident on board; but his confidence proceeded especially from the desire that he cherished so strongly at heart, of seeing Miss Mary happy and consoled. He was particularly interested in this young girl; and this feeling he concealed so well, that, except Miss Grant and himself, no one on board the Duncan had perceived it.
As for the learned geographer, he was probably the happiest man in the southern hemisphere. He passed his time in studying the maps with which he covered the cabin table; and then followed daily discussions with Mr. Olbinett, so that he could scarcely set the table.
But Paganel had all the passengers on his side except the major, who was very indifferent to geographical questions, especially at dinnertime. Having discovered a whole cargo of odd books in the mate’s chests, and among them a number of Cervantes’ works, the Frenchman resolved to learn Spanish, which nobody on board knew, and which would facilitate his search on the shores of Chile. Thanks to
