BEFORE turning into “their nest,” as Paganel had called it, he, and
Robert, and Glenarvan climbed up into the observatory to have one more
inspection of the liquid plain. It was about nine o’clock; the sun had
just sunk behind the glowing mists of the western horizon.
The eastern horizon was gradually assuming a most stormy aspect. A
thick dark bar of cloud was rising higher and higher, and by degrees
extinguishing the stars. Before long half the sky was overspread.
Evidently motive power lay in the cloud itself, for there was not a
breath of wind. Absolute calm reigned in the atmosphere; not a leaf
stirred on the tree, not a ripple disturbed the surface of the water.
There seemed to be scarcely any air even, as though some vast pneumatic
machine had rarefied it. The entire atmosphere was charged to the utmost
with electricity, the presence of which sent a thrill through the whole
nervous system of all animated beings.
“We are going to have a storm,” said Paganel.
“You’re not afraid of thunder, are you, Robert?” asked Glenarvan.
“No, my Lord!” exclaimed Robert. “Well, my boy, so much the better, for
a storm is not far off.”
“And a violent one, too,” added Paganel, “if I may judge by the look of
things.”
“It is not the storm I care about,” said Glenarvan, “so much as the
torrents of rain that will accompany it. We shall be soaked to the skin.
Whatever you may say, Paganel, a nest won’t do for a man, and you will
learn that soon, to your cost.”
“With the help of philosophy, it will,” replied Paganel.
“Philosophy! that won’t keep you from getting drenched.”
“No, but it will warm you.”
“Well,” said Glenarvan, “we had better go down to our friends, and
advise them to wrap themselves up in their philosophy and their ponchos
as tightly as possible, and above all, to lay in a stock of patience,
for we shall need it before very long.”
Glenarvan gave a last glance at the angry sky. The clouds now covered it
entirely; only a dim streak of light shone faintly in the west. A dark
shadow lay on the water, and it could hardly be distinguished from the
thick vapors above it. There was no sensation of light or sound. All was
darkness and silence around.
“Let us go down,” said Glenarvan; “the thunder will soon burst over us.”
On returning to the bottom of the tree, they found themselves, to
their great surprise, in a sort of dim twilight, produced by myriads of
luminous specks which appeared buzzing confusedly over the surface of
the water.
“It is phosphorescence, I suppose,” said Glenarvan.
“No, but phosphorescent insects, positive glow-worms, living diamonds,
which the ladies of Buenos Ayres convert into magnificent ornaments.”
“What!” exclaimed Robert, “those sparks flying about are insects!”
“Yes, my boy.”
Robert caught one in his hand, and found Paganel was right. It was a
kind of large drone, an inch long, and the Indians call it “tuco-tuco.”
This curious specimen of the COLEOPTERA sheds its radiance from two
spots in the front of its breast-plate, and the light is sufficient to
read by. Holding his watch close to the insect, Paganel saw distinctly
that the time was 10 P. M.
On rejoining the Major and his three sailors, Glenarvan warned them of
the approaching storm, and advised them to secure themselves in their
beds of branches as firmly as possible, for there was no doubt that
after the first clap of thunder the wind would become unchained, and the
OMBU would be violently shaken. Though they could not defend themselves
from the waters above, they might at least keep out of the rushing
current beneath.
They wished one another “good-night,” though hardly daring to hope
for it, and then each one rolled himself in his poncho and lay down to
sleep.
But the approach of the great phenomena of nature excites vague
uneasiness in the heart of every sentient being, even in the most
strong-minded. The whole party in the OMBU felt agitated and oppressed,
and not one of them could close his eyes. The first peal of thunder
found them wide awake. It occurred about 11 P. M., and sounded like
a distant rolling. Glenarvan ventured to creep out of the sheltering
foliage, and made his way to the extremity of the horizontal branch to
take a look round.
The deep blackness of the night was already scarified with sharp bright
lines, which were reflected back by the water with unerring exactness.
The clouds had rent in many parts, but noiselessly, like some soft
cotton material. After attentively observing both the zenith and
horizon, Glenarvan went back to the center of the trunk.
“Well, Glenarvan, what’s your report?” asked Paganel.
“I say it is beginning in good earnest, and if it goes on so we shall
have a terrible storm.”
“So much the better,” replied the enthusiastic Paganel; “I should like a
grand exhibition, since we can’t run away.”
“That’s another of your theories,” said the Major.
“And one of my best, McNabbs. I am of Glenarvan’s opinion, that the
storm will be superb. Just a minute ago, when I was trying to sleep,
several facts occurred to my memory, that make me hope it will, for we
are in the region of great electrical tempests. For instance, I have
read somewhere, that in 1793, in this very province of Buenos Ayres,
lightning struck thirty-seven times during one single storm. My
colleague, M. Martin de Moussy, counted fifty-five minutes of
uninterrupted rolling.”
“Watch in hand?” asked the Major.
“Watch in hand. Only one thing makes me uneasy,” added Paganel, “if it
is any use to be uneasy, and that is, that the culminating point of this
plain, is just this very OMBU where we are. A lightning conductor would
be very serviceable to us at present. For it is this tree especially,
among all that grow in the Pampas, that the thunder has a particular
affection for. Besides, I need not tell you, friend, that learned men
tell us never to take refuge under trees during a storm.”
“Most seasonable advice, certainly, in our circumstances,” said the
Major.
“I must confess, Paganel,” replied Glenarvan, “that you might have
chosen a better time for this reassuring information.”
“Bah!” replied Paganel, “all times are good for getting information. Ha!
now it’s beginning.”
Louder peals of thunder interrupted this inopportune conversation, the
violence increasing with the noise till the whole atmosphere seemed to
vibrate with rapid oscillations.
The incessant flashes of lightning took various forms. Some darted down
perpendicularly from the sky five or six times in the same place in
succession. Others would have excited the interest of a SAVANT to the
highest degree, for though Arago, in his curious statistics, only cites
two examples of forked lightning, it was visible here hundreds of times.
Some of the flashes branched out in a thousand different directions,
making coralliform zigzags, and threw out wonderful jets of arborescent
light.
Soon the whole sky from east to north seemed supported by a phosphoric
band of intense brilliancy. This kept increasing by degrees till it
overspread the entire horizon, kindling the clouds which were faithfully
mirrored in the waters as if they were masses of combustible material,
beneath, and presented the appearance of an immense globe of fire, the
center of which was the OMBU.
Glenarvan and his companions gazed silently at this terrifying
spectacle. They could not make their voices heard, but the sheets of
white light which enwrapped them every now and then, revealed the face
of one and another, sometimes the calm features of the Major, sometimes
the eager, curious glance of Paganel, or the energetic face of
Glenarvan, and at others, the scared eyes of the terrified Robert, and
the careless looks of the sailors, investing them with a weird, spectral
aspect.
However, as yet, no rain had fallen, and the wind had not risen in the
least. But this state of things was of short duration; before long the
cataracts of the sky burst forth, and came down in vertical streams. As
the large drops fell splashing into the lake, fiery sparks seemed to fly
out from the illuminated surface.
Was the rain the FINALE of the storm? If so, Glenarvan and his
companions would escape scot free, except for a few vigorous douche
baths. No. At the very height of this struggle of the electric forces of
the atmosphere, a large ball of fire appeared suddenly at the extremity
of the horizontal parent branch, as thick as a man’s wrist, and
surrounded with black smoke. This ball, after turning round and round
for a few seconds, burst like a bombshell, and with so much noise
that the explosion was distinctly audible above the general FRACAS. A
sulphurous smoke filled the air, and complete silence reigned till the
voice of Tom Austin was heard shouting:
“The tree is on fire.”
Tom was right. In a moment, as if some fireworks were being ignited, the
flame ran along the west side of the OMBU; the dead wood and nests of
dried grass, and the whole sap, which was of a spongy texture, supplied
food for its devouring activity.
The wind had risen now and fanned the flame. It was time to flee,
and Glenarvan and his party hurried away to the eastern side of their
refuge, which was meantime untouched by the fire. They were all silent,
troubled, and terrified, as they watched branch after branch shrivel,
and crack, and writhe in the flame like living serpents, and then
drop into the swollen torrent, still red and gleaming, as it was borne
swiftly along on the rapid current. The flames sometimes rose to
a prodigious height, and seemed almost lost in the atmosphere, and
sometimes, beaten down by the hurricane, closely enveloped the OMBU
like a robe of Nessus. Terror seized the entire group. They were almost
suffocated with smoke, and scorched with the unbearable heat, for the
conflagration had already reached the lower branches on their side of
the OMBU. To extinguish it or check its progress was impossible; and
they saw themselves irrevocably condemned to a torturing death, like the
victims of Hindoo divinities.
At last, their situation was absolutely intolerable. Of the two deaths
staring them in the face, they had better choose the less cruel.
“To the water!” exclaimed Glenarvan.
Wilson, who was nearest the flames, had already plunged into the lake,
but next minute he screamed out in the most violent terror:
“Help! Help!”
Austin rushed toward him, and with the assistance of the Major, dragged
him up again on the tree.
“What’s the matter?” they asked.
“Alligators! alligators!” replied Wilson.
The whole foot of the tree appeared to be surrounded by these formidable
animals of the Saurian order. By the glare of the flames, they were
immediately recognized by Paganel, as the ferocious species peculiar to
America, called CAIMANS in the Spanish territories. About ten of them
were there, lashing the water with their powerful tails, and attacking
the OMBU with the long teeth of their lower jaw.
At this sight the unfortunate men gave themselves up to be lost.
A frightful death was in store for them, since they must either be
devoured by the fire or by the caimans. Even the Major said, in a calm
voice:
“This is the beginning of the end, now.”
There are circumstances in which men are powerless, when the unchained
elements can only be combated by other elements. Glenarvan gazed with
haggard looks at the fire and water leagued against him, hardly knowing
what deliverance to implore from Heaven.
The violence of the storm had abated, but it had developed in the
atmosphere a considerable quantity of vapors, to which electricity
was about to communicate immense force. An enormous water-spout was
gradually forming in the south--a cone of thick mists, but with the
point at the bottom, and base at the top, linking together the turbulent
water and the angry clouds. This meteor soon began to move forward,
turning over and over on itself with dizzy rapidity, and sweeping up
into its center a column of water from the lake, while its gyratory
motions made all the surrounding currents of air rush toward it.
A few seconds more, and the gigantic water-spout threw itself on the
OMBU, and caught it up in its whirl. The tree shook to its roots.
Glenarvan could fancy the caimans’ teeth were tearing it up from the
soil; for as he and his companions held on, each clinging firmly to the
other, they felt the towering OMBU give way, and the next minute it
fell right over with a terrible hissing noise, as the flaming branches
touched the foaming water.
It was the work of an instant. Already the water-spout had passed, to
carry on its destructive work elsewhere. It seemed to empty the lake in
its passage, by continually drawing up the water into itself.
The OMBU now began to drift rapidly along, impelled by wind and current.
All the caimans had taken their departure, except one that was crawling
over the upturned roots, and coming toward the poor refugees with wide
open jaws. But Mulrady, seizing hold of a branch that was half-burned
off, struck the monster such a tremendous blow, that it fell back into
the torrent and disappeared, lashing the water with its formidable tail.
Glenarvan and his companions being thus delivered from the voracious
SAURIANS, stationed themselves on the branches windward of the
conflagration, while the OMBU sailed along like a blazing fire-ship
through the dark night, the flames spreading themselves round like sails
before the breath of the hurricane.