PACIFICATION BY FIRE.
At the camp Colonel Everest and his colleagues, with a natural
impatience, anxiously abided the result of the lion-hunt. If the
chase proved successful, the light would appear in the course of the
night. The Colonel and Strux passed the day uneasily; Palander, always
engrossed, forgot that any danger menaced his friends. It might be said
of him, as of the mathematician Bouvard, "He will continue to calculate
while he continues to live;" for apart from his calculations life for
him would have lost its purpose.
The two chiefs certainly thought quite as much of the accomplishment of
their survey as of any danger incurred by their companions; they would
themselves have braved any peril rather than have a physical obstacle
to arrest their operations.
At length, after a day that seemed interminable, the night arrived.
Punctually every half-hour the Colonel and Matthew Strux silently
relieved guard at the telescope, each desiring to be the first to
discover the light. But hours passed on, and no light appeared. At
last, at a quarter to three, Colonel Everest arose, and calmly said.
"The signal!"
The Russian, although he did not utter a word, could scarcely conceal
the chagrin which he felt at chance favouring the Colonel.
The angle was then carefully measured, and was found to be exactly 73°
58' 42.413".
Colonel Everest being anxious to join his companions as soon as
possible, the camp was raised at dawn, and by midday all the members of
the Commission had met once more. The incidents of the lion-hunt were
recounted, and the victors heartily congratulated.
During the morning Sir John, Emery, and Zorn had proceeded to the
summit of the mountain, and had thence measured the angular distance
of a new station situated a few miles to the west of the meridian.
Palander also announced that the measurement of the second degree was
now complete.
For five weeks all went on well. The weather was fine, and the country,
being only slightly undulated, offered fair sites for the stations.
Provisions were abundant, and Sir John's revictualling expeditions
provided full many a variety of antelopes and buffaloes. The general
health was good, and water could always be found. Even the discussions
between the Colonel and Strux were less violent, and each seemed to vie
with the other in zeal for success, when a local difficulty occurred
which for a while hindered the work and revived hostilities.
It was the 11th of August. During the night the caravan had passed
through a wooded country, and in the morning halted before an immense
forest extending beyond the horizon. Imposing masses of foliage formed
a verdant curtain which was of indescribable beauty. There were the
"gounda," the "mosokoso," and the "mokoumdon," a wood much sought for
ship-building; great ebony trees, their bark covering a perfectly
black wood; "bauhinias," with fibre of iron; "buchneras," with their
orange-coloured flowers; magnificent "roodeblatts," with whitish
trunks, crowned with crimson foliage, and thousands of "guaiacums,"
measuring fifteen feet in circumference. There was ever a murmur like
that of the surf on a sandy coast; it was the wind, which, passing
across the branches, was calmed on the skirts of the forest. In answer
to a question from the Colonel, Mokoum said,--
"It is the forest of Rovouma."
"What is its size?"
"It is about forty-five miles wide, and ten long."
"How shall we cross it?"
"Cross it we cannot," said Mokoum. "There is but one resource: we must
go round either to the east or to the west."
At this intelligence the chiefs were much perplexed. In the forest they
could not establish stations; to pass round would involve them in an
additional series of perhaps ten auxiliary triangles.
Here was a difficulty of no little magnitude. Encamping in the shade of
a magnificent grove about half a mile from the forest, the astronomers
assembled in council. The question of surveying across the mass of
trees was at once set aside, and it now remained to determine whether
they should make the circuit to the east or the west, since the
meridian passed as nearly as possible through the centre of the forest.
On this point arose a violent discussion between the Colonel and Strux.
The two rivals recovered their old animosity, and the discussion ended
in a serious altercation. Their colleagues attempted to interfere,
but to no purpose. The Englishman wished to turn to the right, since
that direction approached the route taken by Dr. Livingstone in his
expedition to the Zambesi Falls, and the country would on that account
be more known and frequented. The Russian, on the contrary, insisted on
going to the left, but apparently for no other reason than to thwart
the Colonel. The quarrel went so far that a separation between the
members of the Commission seemed imminent. Zorn, Emery, Sir John, and
Palander withdrew and left their chiefs to themselves. Such was their
obstinacy that it seemed as if the survey must continue from this point
in two oblique series of triangles.
The day passed away without any reconciliation, and the next morning
Sir John, finding matters still in the same condition, proposed to
Mokoum to beat the neighbourhood. Perhaps meanwhile the astronomers
would come to an understanding: any way, some fresh venison would not
be despised.
Mokoum, always ready, whistled to his dog Top, and the two hunters
ventured several miles from the encampment. The conversation naturally
turned on the subject of the difficulty.
"I expect," said the bushman, "we shall be encamped some time here. Our
two chiefs are like ill-paired oxen, one pulls one way and the other
another, and the consequence is that the waggon makes no headway."
"It is all very sad," answered Sir John, "and looks like a separation.
The interests of science are compromised, otherwise I should be
indifferent to it all. I should amuse myself with my gun until the
rivals made it up."
"Do you think they _will_ make it up? For my part, I am almost afraid
that our halt will be indefinitely prolonged."
"I fear so, Mokoum," replied Sir John. "The matter is so trivial, and
it is no question of science. Our chiefs would doubtless have yielded
to a scientific argument, but they will never make concession in a pure
matter of opinion. How unfortunate that the meridian happens to cross
this forest!"
"Hang the forests!" exclaimed the bushman, "don't let them stop your
measuring, if you want to measure. But I can't see the good of your
getting at the length and breadth of the earth? Who will be any better
off when every thing is reduced to feet and inches? I should just like
to think of the globe as infinite; to measure it is to make it small.
No, Sir John, if I were to live for ever, I could never understand the
use of your operations."
Sir John could not help smiling. They had often debated the subject,
and the ignorant child of nature could evidently not enter into the
interest attached to the survey. Whenever Sir John attempted to
convince him, he answered eloquently with arguments stamped with a
genuine naturalness, of which Sir John, half-_savant_ and half-hunter,
could fully appreciate the charm.
Thus conversing, the hunters pursued the rock-hares, the shrill-toned
plovers, the partridges (with brown, yellow, and black plumage), and
other small game. But Sir John had all the sport to himself. The
bushman seldom fired; he was pre-occupied. The quarrel between the two
astronomers seemed to trouble him more than it did his companion, and
the variety of game hardly attracted his notice. In truth there was
an idea floating through his brain, which, little by little, took more
definite form. Sir John heard him talking to himself, and watched him
as he quietly let the game pass by, as engrossed as Palander himself.
Two or three times in the course of the day he drew near Sir John and
said,--
"So you really think that Colonel Everest and Mr. Strux will not come
to terms?"
Sir John invariably replied that agreement seemed unlikely, and that he
feared there would be a separation between Englishmen and Russians. The
last time Mokoum received this answer he added,--
"Well, you may be easy; I have found a means to satisfy both the
chiefs. Before to-morrow, if the wind is favourable, they will have
nothing to quarrel about."
"What do you mean to do, Mokoum?"
"Never mind, Sir John."
"Very well, I will leave it to you. You deserve to have your name
preserved in the annals of science."
"That would be too great an honour for me, Sir John," answered the
bushman, and then continued silently to ponder over his project. Sir
John made no further inquiries, but could not at all guess how the
bushman proposed to re-unite the two adversaries.
Towards evening the hunters returned to camp, and found matters even
worse than before. The oft-repeated intervention of Zorn and Emery had
been of no avail, and the quarrel had now reached such a height that
reconciliation seemed impossible. It appeared only too probable that
the survey would be continued in two separate directions. The thought
of this was sorrowful to Emery and Zorn, who were now so nearly bound
by mutual sympathy. Sir John guessed their thoughts, and was eager
to reassure them; but however much he was secretly disposed to trust
to the bushman, he abstained from raising any hopes which might be
fallacious.
Throughout the evening Mokoum did not leave his ordinary occupations.
He arranged the sentinels, and took the usual precautions. Sir John
began to think that he had forgotten his promise. Before going to rest
he tried to sound Colonel Everest, whom he found immovably resolved
that, unless Strux yielded, the English and Russians must part. "There
are things," added the Colonel, in a tone of decision, "that cannot be
borne, even from a colleague."
[Illustration: Sir John was soon asleep.]
Sir John, very uneasy, retired to his bed, and being fatigued with his
day's sport, was soon asleep. Towards eleven o'clock he was suddenly
aroused by the natives running to and fro in the camp. He quickly rose,
and found every one on their feet. The forest was on fire. In the dark
night, against the black sky, the curtain of flame seemed to rise
to the zenith; and in this incredibly short time the fire had extended
for several miles.
[Illustration: The Forest on Fire.]
Sir John looked at Mokoum, who, standing near, made no answer to his
glance; but he at once understood. The fire was designed to open a road
through that forest which had stood impervious for ages. The wind,
from the south, was favourable. The air, rushing as from a ventilator,
accelerated the conflagration, and furnished an ever fresh supply of
oxygen. It animated the flames, and kept the kindled branches burning
like a myriad brands. The scattered fragments became new centres for
fresh outbreaks of flame; the scene of the fire became larger, and the
heat grew intense. The dead wood piled under the dark foliage crackled,
and ever and anon louder reports and a brighter light told that the
resinous trees were burning like torches. Then followed explosions
like cannonades, as the great trunks of ironwood burst asunder with a
reverberation as of bombs. The sky reflected the glow, and the clouds
carried the rosy glare high aloft. Showers of sparks emitted from the
wreaths of smoke studded the heavens like red-hot stars.
Then, on every side, were heard the howls, shrieks, and bellowings of
herds of bewildered hyenas, buffaloes, and lions; elephants rushed in
every direction, like huge dark spectres, and disappeared beyond the
horizon.
The fire continued throughout the following day and night; and when
day broke on the 14th a vast space, several miles wide, had been opened
across the forest. A passage was now free for the meridian. The daring
genius of Mokoum had arrested the disaster which threatened the survey.