Jules Verne (29 page)

The little party had not gone fifty steps when old Tom suddenly
stopped it with one word.

"Dingo?" said he.

"In fact, Dingo is not here!" replied Hercules.

The black called the dog several times with his powerful voice.

No barking replied to him.

Dick Sand remained silent. The absence of the dog, was to be
regretted, for he had preserved the little party from all surprise.

"Could Dingo have followed Harris?" asked Tom.

"Harris? No," replied Dick Sand; "but he may have put himself on
Negoro's scent. He felt him in our steps."

"This cook of misfortune would quickly end him with a ball!" cried
Hercules.

"Provided Dingo did not first strangle him," replied Bat.

"Perhaps so," replied the young novice. "But we cannot wait for
Dingo's return. Besides, if he is living, the intelligent animal will
know how to find us. Forward!"

The weather was very warm. Since daybreak large clouds obscured the
horizon. Already a storm was threatened in the air. Probably the day
would not end without some thunder-claps. Happily the forest, more or
less dense, retained a little freshness of the surface of the soil.
Here and there great forest trees inclosed prairies covered with
a tall, thick grass. In certain spots enormous trunks, already
petrified, lay on the ground, indicating the presence of coal mines,
which are frequently met with on the African continent. Then, in the
clearings, where the green carpet was mingled with some sprigs of
roses, the flowers were various in color, yellow and blue ginger
plants, pale lobelias, red orchids, incessantly visited by the insects
which fertilized them.

The trees no longer formed impenetrable masses, but their nature was
more varied. There were a kind of palm-tree, which gives an oil found
only in Africa; cotton-trees forming thickets from eight to ten feet
high, whose wood-stalks produce a cotton with long hairs, almost
analogous to that of Fernambouc. From the copals there oozes, by the
holes which certain insects make, an odorous gum, which runs along
the ground and collects for the wants of the natives. Here spread the
lemon-trees, the grenadiers of a savage condition of a country, and
twenty other odorous plants, which prove the prodigious fertility of
this plateau of Central Africa. In several places, also, the perfume
was agreeably mingled with the tine odor of vanilla, although they
could not discover what tree exhaled it.

This whole collection of trees and plants was perfectly green,
although it was in the middle of the dry season, and only rare storms
could water these luxuriant forests. It was then the time for fevers;
but, as Livingstone has observed, they can be cured by leaving the
place where they have been contracted. Dick Sand knew this remark of
the great traveler, and he hoped that little Jack would not contradict
it. He told it to Mrs. Weldon, after having observed that the
periodical access had not returned as they feared, and that the child
slept quietly in Hercules' arms.

Thus they went forward carefully and rapidly. Sometimes they
discovered traces where men or animals had recently passed. The
twisted and broken branches of the brushwood and the thickets afforded
an opportunity to walk with a more equal step. But the greater part of
the time numerous obstacles, which they had to overcome, retarded the
little party, to Dick Sand's great disappointment.

There were twisted lianes that might justly be compared with the
disordered rigging of a ship, certain vines similar to bent swords,
whose blades were ornamented with long thorns, vegetable serpents,
fifty or sixty feet long, which had the faculty of turning to prick
the passer-by with their sharp spikes. The blacks, hatchet in
hand, cut them down with vigorous blows, but the lianes reappeared
constantly, reaching from the earth to the top of the highest trees
which they encircled.

The animal kingdom was not less curious than the vegetable kingdom
in this part of the province. Birds flew in vast numbers under these
powerful branches; but it will be understood that they had no gunshot
to fear from the men, who wished to pass as secretly as rapidly. There
were Guinea fowls in large flocks, heath-cocks of various kinds, very
difficult to approach, and some of those birds which the Americans
of the North have, by onomatopoeia, called "whip-poor-wills," three
syllables which exactly reproduce their cries. Dick Sand and Tom might
truly have believed themselves in some province of the new continent.
But, alas! they knew what to expect.

Until then the deer, so dangerous in Africa, had not approached the
little troop. They again saw, in this first halt, some giraffes, which
Harris had undoubtedly called ostriches. These swift animals
passed rapidly, frightened by the apparition of a caravan in these
little-frequented forests. In the distance, on the edge of the
prairie, there arose at times a thick cloud of dust. It was a herd of
buffaloes, which galloped with the noise of wagons heavily laden.

For two miles Dick Sand thus followed the course of the rivulet which
must end in a more important river. He was in haste to confide his
companions to the rapid current of one of the coast rivers. He felt
sure that the dangers and the fatigue would be much less than on the
shore.

Towards noon three miles had been cleared without any bad incident or
meeting. There was no trace of either Harris or Negoro. Dingo had not
reappeared. It was necessary to halt to take rest and nourishment.

The encampment was established in a bamboo thicket, which completely
sheltered the little party.

They talked very little during this repast. Mrs. Weldon had taken her
little boy in her arms; she could not take her eyes off of him; she
could not eat.

"You must take some nourishment, Mrs. Weldon," Dick Sand repeated
several times. "What will become of you if your strength gives out?
Eat, eat! We will soon start again, and a good current will carry us
without fatigue to the coast."

Mrs. Weldon looked in Dick Sand's face while he thus talked. The young
novice's burning eyes spoke of the courage by which he felt animated.
In seeing him thus, in observing these brave, devoted blacks, wife
and mother, she could not yet despair; and, besides, why was she
abandoned? Did she not think herself on hospitable ground? Harris's
treason could not, in her eyes, have any very serious consequences.
Dick Sand read her thought, and he kept his eyes on the ground.

At this moment little Jack awoke, and put his arms around his mother's
neck. His eyes looked better. The fever had not returned.

"You are better, my darling," said Mrs. Weldon, pressing the sick
child to her heart.

"Yes, mama," replied Jack, "but I am a little thirsty."

They could only give the child some fresh water, of which he drank
with pleasure.

"And my friend Dick?" he said.

"Here I am, Jack," replied Dick Sand, coming to take the young child's
hand.

"And my friend Hercules?"

"Hercules is here, Mr. Jack," replied the giant, bringing nearer his
good face.

"And the horse?" demanded little Jack.

"The horse? Gone, Mr. Jack," replied Hercules. "I will carry you. Will
you find that I trot too hard?"

"No," replied little Jack; "but then I shall no longer have any bridle
to hold."

"Oh! you will put a bit in
my
mouth, if you wish," said Hercules,
opening his large mouth, "and you may pull back so long as that will
give you pleasure."

"You know very well that I shall not pull back."

"Good! You would be wrong! I have a hard mouth."

"But Mr. Harris's farm?" the little boy asked again.

"We shall soon arrive there, my Jack," replied Mrs. Weldon. "Yes,
soon!"

"Will we set out again?" then said Dick Sand, in order to cut short
this conversation.

"Yes, Dick, let us go," replied Mrs. Weldon.

The camp was broken up, and the march continued again in the same
order. It was necessary to pass through the underwood, so as not to
leave the course of the rivulet. There had been some paths there,
formerly, but those paths were dead, according to the native
expression—that is, brambles and brushwood had usurped them. In these
painful conditions they might spend three hours in making one mile.
The blacks worked without relaxation. Hercules, after putting little
Jack back in Nan's arms, took his part of the work; and what a part!
He gave stout "heaves," making his ax turn round, and a hole was made
before them, as if he had been a devouring fire.

Fortunately, this fatiguing work would not last. This first mile
cleared, they saw a large hole, opened through the underwood, which
ended obliquely at the rivulet and followed its bank. It was a passage
made by elephants, and those animals, doubtless by hundreds, were in
the habit of traversing this part of the forest. Great holes, made by
the feet of the enormous pachyderms, riddled a soil softened during
the rainy season. Its spongy nature also prepared it for those large
imprints.

It soon appeared that this passage did not serve for those gigantic
animals alone. Human beings had more than once taken this route, but
as flocks, brutally led to the slaughter-house, would have followed
it. Here and there bones of dead bodies strewed the ground; remains
of skeletons, half gnawed by animals, some of which still bore the
slave's fetters.

There are, in Central Africa, long roads thus marked out by human
débris. Hundreds of miles are traversed by caravans, and how many
unhappy wretches fall by the way, under the agents' whips, killed by
fatigue or privations, decimated by sickness! How many more massacred
by the traders themselves, when food fails! Yes, when they can no
longer feed them, they kill them with the gun, with the sword, with
the knife! These massacres are not rare.

So, then, caravans of slaves had followed this road. For a mile Dick
Sand and his companions struck against these scattered bones at each
step, putting to flight enormous fern-owls. Those owls rose at their
approach, with a heavy flight, and turned round in the air.

Mrs. Weldon looked without seeing. Dick Sand trembled lest she should
question him, for he hoped to lead her back to the coast without
telling her that Harris's treachery had led them astray in an African
province. Fortunately, Mrs. Weldon did not explain to herself what
she had under her eyes. She had desired to take her child again, and
little Jack, asleep, absorbed all her care. Nan walked near her, and
neither of them asked the young novice the terrible questions he
dreaded.

Old Tom went along with his eyes down. He understood only too well why
this opening was strewn with human bones.

His companions looked to the right, to the left, with an air of
surprise, as if they were crossing an interminable cemetery, the
tombs of which had been overthrown by a cataclysm; but they passed in
silence.

Meanwhile, the bed of the rivulet became deeper and wider at the same
time. Its current was less impetuous. Dick Sand hoped that it would
soon become navigable, or that it would before long reach a more
important river, tributary to the Atlantic.

Cost what it might, the young novice was determined to follow this
stream of water. Neither did he hesitate to abandon this opening;
because, as ending by an oblique line, it led away from the rivulet.

The little party a second time ventured through the dense underwood.
They marched, ax in hand, through leaves and bushes inextricably
interlaced.

But if this vegetation obstructed the ground, they were no longer in
the thick forest that bordered the coast. Trees became rare. Large
sheaves of bamboo alone rose above the grass, and so high that even
Hercules was not a head over them. The passage of the little party was
only revealed by the movement of these stalks.

Toward three o'clock in the afternoon of that day, the nature of the
ground totally changed. Here were long plains, which must have been
entirely inundated in the rainy season. The earth, now more swampy,
was carpeted by thick mosses, beneath charming ferns. Should it be
diversified by any steep ascents, they would see brown hematites
appear, the last deposits of some rich vein of mineral.

Dick Sand then recalled—and very fortunately—what he had read in
"Livingstone's Travels." More than once the daring doctor had nearly
rested in these marshes, so treacherous under foot.

"Listen to me, my friends," said he, going ahead. "Try the ground
before stepping on it."

"In fact," replied Tom, "they say that these grounds have been
softened by the rain; but, however, it has not rained during these
last days."

"No," replied Bat; "but the storm is not far off."

"The greater reason," replied Dick Sand, "why we should hurry and get
clear of this swamp before it commences. Hercules, take little Jack
in your arms. Bat, Austin, keep near Mrs. Weldon, so as to be able to
help her if necessary. You, Mr. Benedict—Why, what are you doing,
Mr. Benedict?"

"I am falling!" innocently replied Cousin Benedict, who had just
disappeared as if a trap had been suddenly opened beneath his feet.

In fact, the poor man had ventured on a sort of quagmire, and had
disappeared half-way in the sticky mud. They stretched out their
hands, and he rose, covered with slime, but quite satisfied at not
having injured his precious entomologist's box. Acteon went beside
him, and made it his duty to preserve the unlucky, near-sighted man
from any new disasters.

Besides, Cousin Benedict had made rather a bad choice of the quagmire
for his plunge. When they drew him out of the sticky earth a large
quantity of bubbles rose to the surface, and, in bursting, they
emitted some gases of a suffocating odor. Livingstone, who had been
sunk up to his chest in this slime, compared these grounds to a
collection of enormous sponges, made of black, porous earth, from
which numerous streams of water spouted when they were stepped upon.
These places were always very dangerous.