THE Secretary of the Geographical Society was evidently an amiable
personage, for all this was said in a most charming manner. Lord
Glenarvan knew quite well who he was now, for he had often heard Paganel
spoken of, and was aware of his merits. His geographical works, his
papers on modern discoveries, inserted in the reports of the Society,
and his world-wide correspondence, gave him a most distinguished place
among the LITERATI of France.
Lord Glenarvan could not but welcome such a guest, and shook hands
cordially.
“And now that our introductions are over,” he added, “you will allow me,
Monsieur Paganel, to ask you a question?”
“Twenty, my Lord,” replied Paganel; “it will always be a pleasure to
converse with you.”
“Was it last evening that you came on board this vessel?”
“Yes, my Lord, about 8 o’clock. I jumped into a cab at the Caledonian
Railway, and from the cab into the SCOTIA, where I had booked my cabin
before I left Paris. It was a dark night, and I saw no one on board, so
I found cabin No. 6, and went to my berth immediately, for I had heard
that the best way to prevent sea-sickness is to go to bed as soon as you
start, and not to stir for the first few days; and, moreover, I had
been traveling for thirty hours. So I tucked myself in, and slept
conscientiously, I assure you, for thirty-six hours.”
Paganel’s listeners understood the whole mystery, now, of his presence
on the DUNCAN. The French traveler had mistaken his vessel, and gone on
board while the crew were attending the service at St. Mungo’s. All was
explained. But what would the learned geographer say, when he heard the
name and destination of the ship, in which he had taken passage?
“Then it is Calcutta, M. Paganel, that you have chosen as your point of
departure on your travels?”
“Yes, my Lord, to see India has been a cherished purpose with me all my
life. It will be the realization of my fondest dreams, to find myself in
the country of elephants and Thugs.”
“Then it would be by no means a matter of indifference to you, to visit
another country instead.”
“No, my Lord; indeed it would be very disagreeable, for I have letters
from Lord Somerset, the Governor-General, and also a commission to
execute for the Geographical Society.”
“Ah, you have a commission.”
“Yes, I have to attempt a curious and important journey, the plan of
which has been drawn up by my learned friend and colleague, M. Vivien de
Saint Martin. I am to pursue the track of the Schlaginweit Brothers;
and Colonels Waugh and Webb, and Hodgson; and Huc and Gabet, the
missionaries; and Moorecroft and M. Jules Remy, and so many celebrated
travelers. I mean to try and succeed where Krick, the missionary so
unfortunately failed in 1846; in a word, I want to follow the course
of the river Yarou-Dzangbo-Tchou, which waters Thibet for a distance of
1500 kilometres, flowing along the northern base of the Himalayas,
and to find out at last whether this river does not join itself to the
Brahmapoutre in the northeast of As-sam. The gold medal, my Lord, is
promised to the traveler who will succeed in ascertaining a fact which
is one of the greatest DESIDERATA to the geography of India.”
Paganel was magnificent. He spoke with superb animation, soaring away on
the wings of imagination. It would have been as impossible to stop him
as to stop the Rhine at the Falls of Schaffhausen.
“Monsieur Jacques Paganel,” said Lord Glenarvan, after a brief pause,
“that would certainly be a grand achievement, and you would confer a
great boon on science, but I should not like to allow you to be laboring
under a mistake any longer, and I must tell you, therefore, that for the
present at least, you must give up the pleasure of a visit to India.”
“Give it up. And why?”
“Because you are turning your back on the Indian peninsula.”
“What! Captain Burton.”
“I am not Captain Burton,” said John Mangles.
“But the SCOTIA.”
“This vessel is not the SCOTIA.”
It would be impossible to depict the astonishment of Paganel. He stared
first at one and then at another in the utmost bewilderment.
Lord Glenarvan was perfectly grave, and Lady Helena and Mary showed
their sympathy for his vexation by their looks. As for John Mangles,
he could not suppress a smile; but the Major appeared as unconcerned as
usual. At last the poor fellow shrugged his shoulders, pushed down his
spectacles over his nose and said:
“You are joking.”
But just at that very moment his eye fell on the wheel of the ship, and
he saw the two words on it: Duncan.
Glasgow.
“The DUNCAN! the DUNCAN!” he exclaimed, with a cry of despair, and
forthwith rushed down the stairs, and away to his cabin.
As soon as the unfortunate SAVANT had disappeared, every one, except the
Major, broke out into such peals of laughter that the sound reached the
ears of the sailors in the forecastle. To mistake a railway or to take
the train to Edinburgh when you want to go to Dumbarton might happen;
but to mistake a ship and be sailing for Chili when you meant to go to
India--that is a blunder indeed!
“However,” said Lord Glenarvan, “I am not much astonished at it in
Paganel. He is quite famous for such misadventures. One day he published
a celebrated map of America, and put Japan in it! But for all that, he
is distinguished for his learning, and he is one of the best geographers
in France.”
“But what shall we do with the poor gentleman?” said Lady Helena; “we
can’t take him with us to Patagonia.”
“Why not?” replied McNabbs, gravely. “We are not responsible for his
heedless mistakes. Suppose he were in a railway train, would they stop
it for him?”
“No, but he would get out at the first station.”
“Well, that is just what he can do here, too, if he likes; he can
disembark at the first place where we touch.”
While they were talking, Paganel came up again on the poop, looking very
woebegone and crestfallen. He had been making inquiry about his
luggage, to assure himself that it was all on board, and kept repeating
incessantly the unlucky words, “The DUNCAN! the DUNCAN!”
He could find no others in his vocabulary. He paced restlessly up and
down; sometimes stopping to examine the sails, or gaze inquiringly over
the wide ocean, at the far horizon. At length he accosted Lord Glenarvan
once more, and said--
“And this DUNCAN--where is she going?”
“To America, Monsieur Paganel,” was the reply.
“And to what particular part?”
“To Concepcion.”
“To Chili! to Chili!” cried the unfortunate geographer. “And my mission
to India. But what will M. de Quatre-fages, the President of the Central
Commission, say? And M. d’ Avezac? And M. Cortanbert? And M. Vivien de
Saint Martin? How shall I show my face at the SEANCES of the Society?”
“Come, Monsieur Paganel, don’t despair. It can all be managed; you will
only have to put up with a little delay, which is relatively of not
much importance. The Yarou-Dzangbo-Tchou will wait for you still in the
mountains of Thibet. We shall soon put in at Madeira, and you will get a
ship there to take you back to Europe.”
“Thanks, my Lord. I suppose I must resign myself to it; but people will
say it is a most extraordinary adventure, and it is only to me such
things happen. And then, too, there is a cabin taken for me on board the
SCOTIA.”
“Oh, as to the SCOTIA, you’ll have to give that up meantime.”
“But the DUNCAN is a pleasure yacht, is it not?” began Paganel again,
after a fresh examination of the vessel.
“Yes, sir,” said John Mangles, “and belongs to Lord Glenarvan.”
“Who begs you will draw freely on his hospitality,” said Lord Glenarvan.
“A thousand thanks, my Lord! I deeply feel your courtesy, but allow me
to make one observation: India is a fine country, and can offer many a
surprising marvel to travelers. These ladies, I suppose, have never seen
it. Well now, the man at the helm has only to give a turn at the wheel,
and the DUNCAN will sail as easily to Calcutta as to Concepcion; and
since it is only a pleasure trip that you are--”
His proposal was met by such grave, disapproving shakes of the head,
that he stopped short before the sentence was completed; and Lady Helena
said:
“Monsieur Paganel, if we were only on a pleasure trip, I should reply,
‘Let us all go to India together,’ and I am sure Lord Glenarvan would
not object; but the DUNCAN is going to bring back shipwrecked mariners
who were cast away on the shores of Patagonia, and we could not alter
such a destination.”
The Frenchman was soon put in possession of all the circumstances of
the case. He was no unmoved auditor, and when he heard of Lady Helena’s
generous proposition, he could not help saying,
“Madame, permit me to express my admiration of your conduct
throughout--my unreserved admiration. Let your yacht continue her
course. I should reproach myself were I to cause a single day’s delay.”
“Will you join us in our search, then?” asked Lady Helena.
“It is impossible, madame. I must fulfill my mission. I shall disembark
at the first place you touch at, wherever it may be.”
“That will be Madeira,” said John Mangles.
“Madeira be it then. I shall only be 180 leagues from Lisbon, and I
shall wait there for some means of transport.”
“Very well, Monsieur Paganel, it shall be as you wish; and, for my own
part, I am very glad to be able to offer you, meantime, a few days’
hospitality. I only hope you will not find our company too dull.”
“Oh, my Lord,” exclaimed Paganel, “I am but too happy to have made
a mistake which has turned out so agreeably. Still, it is a very
ridiculous plight for a man to be in, to find himself sailing to America
when he set out to go to the East Indies!”
But in spite of this melancholy reflection, the Frenchman submitted
gracefully to the compulsory delay. He made himself amiable and merry,
and even diverting, and enchanted the ladies with his good humor. Before
the end of the day he was friends with everybody. At his request, the
famous document was brought out. He studied it carefully and minutely
for a long time, and finally declared his opinion that no other
interpretation of it was possible. Mary Grant and her brother inspired
him with the most lively interest. He gave them great hope; indeed, the
young girl could not help smiling at his sanguine prediction of success,
and this odd way of foreseeing future events. But for his mission he
would have made one of the search party for Captain Grant, undoubtedly.
As for Lady Helena, when he heard that she was a daughter of William
Tuffnell, there was a perfect explosion of admiring epithets. He had
known her father, and what letters had passed between them when William
Tuffnell was a corresponding member of the Society! It was he himself
that had introduced him and M. Malte Brun. What a _rencontre_ this was,
and what a pleasure to travel with the daughter of Tuffnell.
He wound up by asking permission to kiss her, which Lady Helena granted,
though it was, perhaps, a little improper.