THE SHIPWRECKED CREW
Next day was the 24th of July; and the 24th of July in the southern
hemisphere corresponds to the 24th of January in the northern. The
fifty-sixth degree of latitude had been left behind. The similar
parallel in northern Europe runs through Edinburgh.
The thermometer kept steadily below freezing, so that the machinery was
called upon to furnish a little artificial heat in the cabins. Although
the days begin to lengthen after the 21st day of June in the southern
hemisphere, yet the advance of the “Albatross” towards the Pole more
than neutralized this increase, and consequently the daylight became
very short. There was thus very little to be seen. At night time the
cold became very keen; but as there was no scarcity of clothing on
board, the colleagues, well wrapped up, remained a good deal on deck
thinking over their plans of escape, and watching for an opportunity.
Little was seen of Robur; since the high words that had been exchanged
in the Timbuktu country, the engineer had left off speaking to his
prisoners. Frycollin seldom came out of the cook-house, where Tapage
treated him most hospitably, on condition that he acted as his
assistant. This position was not without its advantages, and the Negro,
with his master’s permission, very willingly accepted it. Shut up in
the galley, he saw nothing of what was passing outside, and might even
consider himself beyond the reach of danger. He was, in fact, very like
the ostrich, not only in his stomach, but in his folly.
But whither went the “Albatross?” Was she in mid-winter bound for the
southern seas or continents round the Pole? In this icy atmosphere,
even granting that the elements of the batteries were unaffected by
such frost, would not all the crew succumb to a horrible death from the
cold? That Robur should attempt to cross the Pole in the warm season
was bad enough, but to attempt such a thing in the depth of the winter
night would be the act of a madman.
Thus reasoned the President and Secretary of the Weldon Institute, now
they had been brought to the end of the continent of the New World,
which is still America, although it does not belong to the United
States.
What was this intractable Robur going to do? Had not the time arrived
for them to end the voyage by blowing up the ship?
It was noticed that during the 24th of July the engineer had frequent
consultations with his mate. He and Tom Turner kept constant watch on
the barometer—not so much to keep themselves informed of the height at
which they were traveling as to be on the look-out for a change in the
weather. Evidently some indications had been observed of which it was
necessary to make careful note.
Uncle Prudent also remarked that Robur had been taking stock of the
provisions and stores, and everything seemed to show that he was
contemplating turning back.
“Turning back!” said Phil Evans. “But where to?”
“Where he can reprovision the ship.” said Uncle Prudent.
“That ought to be in some lonely island in the Pacific with a colony of
scoundrels worthy of their chief.”
“That is what I think. I fancy he is going west, and with the speed he
can get up it would not take, him long to get home.”
“But we should not be able to put our plan into execution. If we get
there—”
“We shall not get there!”
The colleagues had partly guessed the engineer’s intentions. During the
day it became no longer doubtful that when the “Albatross” reached the
confines of the Antarctic Sea her course was to be changed. When the
ice has formed about Cape Horn the lower regions of the Pacific are
covered with icefields and icebergs. The floes then form an
impenetrable barrier to the strongest ships and the boldest navigators.
Of course, by increasing the speed of her wings the “Albatross” could
clear the mountains of ice accumulated on the ocean as she could the
mountains of earth on the polar continent—if it is a continent that
forms the cap of the southern pole. But would she attempt it in the
middle of the polar night, in an atmosphere of sixty below freezing?
After she had advanced about a hundred miles to the south the
“Albatross” headed westerly, as if for some unknown island of the
Pacific. Beneath her stretched the liquid plain between Asia and
America. The waters now had assumed that singular color which has
earned for them the name of the Milky Sea. In the half shadow, which
the enfeebled rays of the sun were unable to dissipate, the surface of
the Pacific was a milky white. It seemed like a vast snowfield, whose
undulations were imperceptible at such a height. If the sea had been
solidified by the cold, and converted into an immense icefield, its
aspect could not have been much different. They knew that the
phenomenon was produced by myriads of luminous particles of
phosphorescent corpuscles; but it was surprising to come across such an
opalescent mass beyond the limits of the Indian Ocean.
Suddenly the barometer fell after keeping somewhat high during the
earlier hours of the day. Evidently the indications were such as a
shipmaster might feel anxious at, though the master of an aeronef might
despise them. There was every sign that a terrible storm had recently
raged in the Pacific.
It was one o’clock in the afternoon when Tom Turner came up to the
engineer and said, “Do you see that black spot on the horizon,
sir—there away to due north of us? That is not a rock?”
“No, Tom; there is no land out there.”
“Then it must be a ship or a boat.”
Uncle Prudent and Phil Evans, who were in the bow, looked in the
direction pointed out by the mate.
Robur asked for the glass and attentively observed the object.
“It is a boat.” said he, “and there are some men in it.”
“Shipwrecked?” asked Tom.
“Yes! They have had to abandon their ship, and, knowing nothing of the
nearest land, are perhaps dying of hunger and thirst! Well, it shall
not be said that the “Albatross” did not come to their help!”
The orders were given, and the aeronef began to sink towards the sea.
At three hundred yards from it the descent was stopped, and the
propellers drove ahead full speed towards the north.
It was a boat. Her sail flapped against the mast as she rose and fell
on the waves. There was no wind, and she was making no progress.
Doubtless there was no one on board with strength enough left to work
the oars. In the boat were five men asleep or helpless, if they were
not dead.
The “Albatross” had arrived above them, and slowly descended. On the
boat’s stern was the name of the ship to which she belonged—the
“Jeannette” of Nantes.
“Hallo, there!” shouted Turner, loud enough for the men to hear, for
the boat was only eighty feet below him.
There was no answer. “Fire a gun!” said Robur.
The gun was fired and the report rang out over the sea.
One of the men looked up feebly. His eyes were haggard and his face was
that of a skeleton. As he caught sight of the “Albatross” he made a
gesture as of fear.
“Don’t be afraid.” said Robur in French, “we have come to help you. Who
are you?”
“We belong to the barque “Jeannette.” and I am the mate. We left her a
fortnight ago as she was sinking. We have no water and no food.”
The four other men had now sat up. Wan and exhausted, in a terrible
state of emaciation, they lifted their hands towards the “Albatross.”
“Look-out!” shouted Robur.
A line was let down, and a pail of fresh water was lowered into the
boat. The men snatched at it and drank it with an eagerness awful to
see.
“Bread, bread!” they exclaimed.
Immediately a basket with some food and five pints of coffee descended
towards them. The mate with difficulty restrained them in their
ravenousness.
“Where are we?” asked the mate at last.
“Fifty miles from the Chili coast and the Chonos Archipelago.” answered
Robur.
“Thanks. But we are becalmed, and—?”
“We are going to tow you.”
“Who are you?”
“People who are glad to be of assistance to you.” said Robur.
The mate understood that the incognito was to be respected. But had the
flying machine sufficient power to tow them through the water?
Yes; and the boat, attached to a hundred feet of rope, began to move
off towards the east. At ten o’clock at night the land was sighted—or
rather they could see the lights which indicated its position. This
rescue from the sky had come just in time for the survivors of the
“Jeannette.” and they had good reason to believe it miraculous.
When they had been taken to the mouth of the channel leading among the
Chonos Islands, Robur shouted to them to cast off the tow-line. This,
with many a blessing to those who had saved them, they did, and the
“Albatross” headed out to the offing.
Certainly there was some good in this aeronef, which could thus help
those who were lost at sea! What balloon, perfect as it might be, would
be able to perform such a service? And between themselves Uncle Prudent
and Phil Evans could not but admire it, although they were quite
disposed to deny the evidence of their senses.