This etext was prepared by Judy Boss, Omaha, Nebraska
WORKS
of
JULES VERNE
EDITED BY
CHARLES F. HORNE
INTRODUCTION
THE SURVIVORS OF THE CHANCELLOR
was issued in 1875. Shipwrecks occur
in other of Verne's tales; but this is his only
story devoted wholly to such a disaster. In it
the author has gathered all the tragedy, the
mystery, and the suffering possible to the sea. All the vari-
ous forms of disaster, all the possibilities of horror, the
depths of shame and agony, are heaped upon these unhappy
voyagers. The accumulation is mathematically complete
and emotionally unforgettable. The tale has well been called
the "imperishable epic of shipwreck."
The idea of the book is said to have originated in the cele-
brated French painting by Gericault, "the Wreck of the
Medusa," now in the Louvre gallery. The Medusa was a
French frigate wrecked off the coast of Africa in 1816.
Some of the survivors, escaping on a raft, were rescued by
a passing ship after many days of torture. Verne, however,
seems also to have drawn upon the terrifying experiences of
the British ship Sarah Sands in 1857, her story being fresh
in the public mind at the time he wrote. The Sarah Sands
caught fire off the African coast while on a voyage to India
carrying British troops. There was gunpowder aboard li-
able to blow up at any moment. Some of it did indeed ex-
plode, tearing a huge hole in the vessel's side. A storm
added to the terror, and the waters entering the breach
caused by the explosion, combated with the fire. After ten
days of desperate struggle, the charred and sinking vessel
reached a port.
The extreme length of life which Verne allows his people
in their starving, thirsting condition is proven possible by
medical science and recent "fasting"' experiments. The
dramatic climax of the tale wherein the castaways find fresh
water in the ocean is based upon a fact, one of those odd
geographical facts of which the author made such frequent,
skillful and instructive use.
"Michael Strogoff" which, through its use as a stage
play, has become one of the best known books of all the
world, was first published in 1876. Its vivid, powerful
story has made it a favorite with every red-blooded reader.
Its two well-drawn female characters, the courageous hero-
ine, and the stern, endurant, yearning mother, show how
well Verne could depict the tenderer sex when he so willed.
Though usually the rapid movement and adventure of his
stories leave women in subordinate parts.
As to the picture drawn in "Michael Strogoff" of Russia
and Siberia, it is at once instructive and sympathetic.
The horrors are not blinked at, yet neither is Russian patri-
otism ignored. The loyalty of some of the Siberian exiles
to their mother country is a side of life there which is too
often ignored by writers who dwell only on the darker view.
The Czar, in our author's hands, becomes the hero figure
to the erection of which French "hero worship" is ever
prone. The sarcasms thrown occasionally at the British
newspaper correspondent of the story, show the changing
attitude of Verne toward England, and reflect the French
spirit of his day.
The Survivors of the Chancellor
by Jules Verne
CHAPTER I
THE CHANCELLOR
CHARLESTON, September 27, 1898. - It is
high tide, and three o'clock in the afternoon
when we leave the Battery quay; the ebb
carries us off shore, and as Captain Huntly
has hoisted both main and top sails, the north-
erly breeze drives the Chancellor briskly
across the bay. Fort Sumter ere long is doubled, the
sweeping batteries of the mainland on our left are soon
passed, and by four o'clock the rapid current of the ebbing
tide has carried us through the harbor mouth.
But as yet we have not reached the open sea we have still
to thread our way through the narrow channels which the
surge has hollowed out amongst the sand-banks. The
captain takes a southwest course, rounding the lighthouse
at the corner of the fort; the sails are closely trimmed; the
last sandy point is safely coasted, and at length, at seven
o'clock in the evening, we are out free upon the wide At-
lantic.
The Chancellor is a fine square-rigged three-master, of
900 tons burden, and belongs to the wealthy Liverpool firm
of Laird Brothers. She is two years old, is sheathed and
secured with copper, her decks being of teak, and the base
of all her masts, except the mizzen, with all their fittings,
being of iron. She is registered first class, A 1, and is now
on her third voyage between Charleston and Liverpool. As
she wended her way through the channels of Charleston
harbor, it was the British flag that was lowered from her
mast-head; but without colors at all, no sailor could have
hesitated for a moment in telling her nationality, - for Eng-
lish she was, and nothing but English from her water-line
upward to the truck of her masts.
I must now relate how it happens that I have taken my
passage on board the Chancellor on her return voyage to
England.
At present there is no direct steamship service between
South Carolina and Great Britain, and all who wish to cross
must go either northward to New York or southward to
New Orleans. It is quite true that if I had chosen a start
from New York I might have found plenty of vessels be-
longing to English, French, or Hamburg lines, any of which
would have conveyed me by a rapid voyage to my destina-
tion; and it is equally true that if I had selected New Or-
leans for my embarkation I could readily have reached
Europe by one of the vessels of the National Steam Naviga-
tion Company, which join the French transatlantic line
of Colon and Aspinwall. But it was fated to be otherwise.
One day, as I was loitering about the Charleston quays,
my eye lighted on this vessel. There was something about
the Chancellor that pleased me, and a kind of involuntary
impulse took me on board, where I found the internal ar-
rangements perfectly comfortable. Yielding to the idea
that a voyage in a sailing vessel had certain charms beyond
the transit in a steamer, and reckoning that with wind and
wave in my favor there would be little material difference
in time; considering, moreover, that in these low latitudes
the weather in early autumn is fine and unbroken, I came
to my decision, and proceeded forthwith to secure my pas-
sage by this route to Europe.
Have I done right or wrong? Whether I shall have rea-
son to regret my determination is a problem to be solved in
the future. However, I will begin to record the incidents
of our daily experience, dubious as I feel whether the lines
of my chronicle will ever find a reader.
CHAPTER II
CREW AND PASSENGERS
SEPTEMBER 28. - John Silas Huntly, the captain of the
Chancellor, has the reputation of being a most experienced
navigator of the Atlantic. He is a Scotchman by birth,
a native of Dundee, and is about fifty years of age. He is
of the middle height and slight build, and has a small head,
which he has a habit of holding a little over his left shoulder.
I do not pretend to be much of a physiognomist, but I am
inclined to believe that my few hours' acquaintance with our
captain has given me considerable insight into his charac-
ter. That he is a good seaman and thoroughly understands
his duties I could not for a moment venture to deny; but
that he is a man of resolute temperament, or that he pos-
sesses the amount of courage that would render him, phy-
sically or morally, capable of coping with any great emer-
gency, I confess I cannot believe. I observed a certain
heaviness and dejection about his whole carriage. His
wavering glances, the listless motion of his hands, and his
slow, unsteady gait, all seem to me to indicate a weak and
sluggish disposition. He does not appear as though he
could be energetic enough ever to be stubborn; he never
frowns, sets his teeth, or clenches his fists. There is some-
thing enigmatical about him; however, I shall study him
closely, and do what I can to understand the man who, as
commander of a vessel, should be to those around him
"second only to God."
Unless I am greatly mistaken there is another man on
board who, if circumstances should require it, would take
the more prominent position - I mean the mate. I have
hitherto, however, had so little opportunity of observing his
character, that I must defer saying more about him at pres-
ent.
Besides the captain and this mate, whose name is Robert
Curtis, our crew consists of Walter, the lieutenant, the boat-
swain, and fourteen sailors, all English or Scotch, making
eighteen altogether, a number quite sufficient for working
a vessel of 900 tons burden. Up to this time my sole ex-
perience of their capabilities is, that under the command of
the mate, they brought us skillfully enough through the
narrow channels of Charleston; and I have no reason to
doubt that they are well up to their work.
My list of the ship's officials is incomplete unless I men-
tion Hobart the steward and Jynxstrop the negro cook.
In addition to these, the Chancellor carries eight pas-
sengers, including myself. Hitherto, the bustle of em-
barkation, the arrangement of cabins, and all the variety of
preparations inseparable from starting on a voyage for at
least twenty or five-and-twenty days have precluded the
formation of any acquaintanceships; but the monotony of
the voyage, the close proximity into which we must be
thrown, and the natural curiosity to know something of each
other's affairs, will doubtless lead us in due time to an ex-
change of ideas. Two days have elapsed and I have not
even seen all the passengers. Probably sea-sickness has
prevented some of them from making an appearance at the
common table. One thing, however, I do know; namely,
that there are two ladies occupying the stern cabin, the win-
dows of which are in the aft-board of the vessel.
I have seen the ship's list, and subjoin a list of the pas-
sengers. They are as follows:
Mr. and Mrs. Kear, Americans, of Buffalo.
Miss Herbey, a young English lady, companion to Mrs.
Kear.
M. Letourneur and his son Andre, Frenchmen, of Havre.
William Falsten, a Manchester engineer.
John Ruby, a Cardiff merchant; and myself, J. R. Kazal-
lon, of London.
CHAPTER III
BILL OF LADING
SEPTEMBER 29. - Captain Huntly's bill of lading, that is
to say, the document that describes the Chancellor's cargo
and the conditions of transport, is couched in the following
terms:
Bronsfield and Co., Agents, Charleston:
I, John Silas Huntly, of Dundee, Scotland, commander
of the ship Chancellor, of about 900 tons burden, now at
Charleston, do purpose, by the blessing of God, at the earli-
est convenient season, and by the direct route, to sail for the
port of Liverpool, where I shall obtain my discharge. I
do hereby acknowledge that I have received from you,
Messrs. Bronsfield and Co., Commission Agents, Charles-
ton, and have placed the same under the gun-deck of the
aforesaid ship, seventeen hundred bales of cotton, of the
estimated value of 26,000 L., all in good condition, marked
and numbered as in the margin; which goods I do undertake
to transport to Liverpool, and there to deliver, free from
injury (save only such injury as shall have been caused by
the chances of the sea), to Messrs. Laird Brothers, or to
their order, or to their representatives, who shall on due
delivery of the said freight pay me the sum of 2,000 L. inclu-
sive, according to the charter-party, and damages in addi-
tion, according to the usages and customs of the sea.
And for the fulfillment of the above covenant, I have
pledged and do pledge my person, my property, and my
interest in the vessel aforesaid, with all its appurtenances.
In witness whereof, I have signed three agreements all of
the same purport, on the condition that when the terms of
one are accomplished, the other two shall be absolutely null
and void.
Given at Charleston, September 13th, 1869.
J. S. HUNTLY.
From the foregoing document it will be understood that
the Chancellor is conveying 1,700 bales of cotton to Liver-
pool; that the shippers are Bronsfield, of Charleston, and
the consignees are Laird Brothers of Liverpool. The ship
was constructed with the especial design of carrying cotton,
and the entire hold, with the exception of a very limited
space reserved for passenger's luggage, is closely packed
with the bales. The lading was performed with the utmost
care, each bale being pressed into its proper place by the
aid of screw-jacks, so that the whole freight forms one solid
and compact mass; not an inch of space is wasted, and the
vessel is thus made capable of carrying her full complement
of cargo.
CHAPTER IV
SOMETHING ABOUT MY FELLOW PASSENGERS
SEPTEMBER 30 to October 6. - The Chancellor is a rapid
sailer, and more than a match for many a vessel of the
same dimensions. She scuds along merrily in the freshen-
ing breeze, leaving in her wake, far as the eye can reach, a
long white line of foam as well defined as a delicate strip
of lace stretched upon an azure ground.
The Atlantic is not visited by many gales, and I have
every reason to believe that the rolling and pitching of the
vessel no longer incommode any of the passengers, who are
all more or less accustomed to the sea. A vacant seat at
our table is now very rare; we are beginning to know some-
thing about each other, and our daily life, in consequence,
is becoming somewhat less monotonous.
M. Letourneur, our French fellow-passenger, often has
a chat with me. He is a fine tall man, about fifty years of
age, with white hair and a grizzly beard. To say the truth,
he looks older than he really is: his drooping head, his de-
jected manner, and his eye, ever and again suffused with
tears, indicate that he is haunted by some deep and abiding
sorrow. He never laughs; he rarely even smiles, and then
only on his son; his countenance ordinarily bearing a look
of bitterness tempered by affection, while his general ex-
pression is one of caressing tenderness. It excites an invol-
untary commiseration to learn that M. Letourneur is con-
suming himself by exaggerated reproaches on account of
the infirmity of an afflicted son.
Andre Letourneur is about twenty years of age, with a
gentle, interesting countenance, but, to the irrepressible
grief of his father, is a hopeless cripple. His left leg is
miserably deformed, and he is quite unable to walk without
the assistance of a stick. It is obvious that the father's
life is bound up with that of his son; his devotion is unceas-
ing; every thought, every glance is for Andre; he seems to
anticipate his most trifling wish, watches his slightest move-
ment, and his arm is ever ready to support or otherwise
assist the child whose sufferings he more than shares.
M. Letourneur seems to have taken a peculiar fancy to
myself, and constantly talks about Andre. This morning,
in the course of conversation, I said:
"You have a good son, M. Letourneur. I have just
been talking to him. He is a most intelligent young man."
"Yes, Mr. Kazallon," replied M. Letourneur, brighten-
ing up into a smile, "his afflicted frame contains a noble
mind. He is like his mother, who died at his birth."
"He is full of reverence and love for you, sir," I re-
marked.
"Dear boy!" muttered the father half to himself. "Ah,
Mr. Kazallon," he continued, "you do not know what it is
to a father to have a son a cripple, beyond hope of cure."
"M. Letourneur," I answered, "you take more than your
share of the affliction which has fallen upon you and your
son. That M. Andre is entitled to the very greatest com-
miseration no one can deny; but you should remember, that
after all a physical infirmity is not so hard to bear as mental
grief. Now, I have watched your son pretty closely, and
unless I am much mistaken there is nothing that troubles
him so much as the sight of your own sorrow."
"But I never let him see it," he broke in hastily. "My
sole thought is how to divert him. I have discovered that,
in spite of his physical weakness, he delights in traveling;
so for the last few years we have been constantly on the
move. We first went all over Europe, and are now re-
turning from visiting the principal places in the United
States. I never allowed my son to go to college, but in-
structed him entirely myself, and these travels, I hope, will
serve to complete his education. He is very intelligent, and
has a lively imagination, and I am sometimes tempted to
hope that in contemplating the wonders of nature he forgets
his own infirmity."
"Yes, sir, of course he does," I assented.
"But," continued M. Letourneur, taking my hand, "al-
though, perhaps, HE may forget, I can never forget. Ah,
sir, do you suppose that Andre can ever forgive his parents
for bringing him into the world a cripple?"
The remorse of the unhappy father was very distressing,
and I was about to say a few kind words of sympathy when
Andre himself made his appearance. M. Letourneur has-
tened toward him and assisted him up the few steep steps
that led to the poop.
As soon as Andre was comfortably seated on one of the
benches, and his father had taken his place by his side, I
joined them, and we fell into conversation upon ordinary
topics, discussing the various points of the Chancellor, the
probable length of the passage, and the different details of
our life on board. I find that M. Letourneur's estimate of
Captain Huntly's character very much coincides with my
own, and that, like me, he is impressed with the man's un-
decided manner and sluggish appearance. Like me, too, he
has formed a very favorable opinion of Robert Curtis, the
mate, a man of about thirty years of age, of great muscular
power, with a frame and a will that seem ever ready for
action.
While we were still talking of him, Curtis himself came
on deck, and as I watched his movements I could not help
being struck with his physical development; his erect and
easy carriage, his fearless glance and slightly contracted
brow all betoken a man of energy, thoroughly endowed
with the calmness and courage that are indispensable to the
true sailor. He seems a kind-hearted fellow, too, and is al-
ways ready to assist and amuse young Letourneur, who evi-
dently enjoys his company. After he had scanned the
weather and examined the trim of the sails, he joined our
party and proceeded to give us some information about those
of our fellow-passengers with whom at present we have
made but slight acquaintance.
Mr. Kear, the American, who is accompanied by his wife,
has made a large fortune in the petroleum springs in the
United States. He is a man of about fifty, a most uninter-
esting companion, being overwhelmed with a sense of his
own wealth and importance, and consequently supremely
indifferent to all around him. His hands are always in his
pockets, and the chink of money seems to follow him
wherever he goes. Vain and conceited, a fool as well as an
egotist, he struts about like a peacock showing its plumage,
and to borrow the words of the physiognomist Gratiolet,
"il se flaire, il se savoure, il se goute." Why he should
have taken his passage on board a mere merchant vessel
instead of enjoying the luxuries of a transatlantic steamer,
I am altogether at a loss to explain.
The wife is an insignificant, insipid woman, of about
forty years of age. She never reads, never talks, and I
believe I am not wrong in saying, never thinks. She seems
to look without seeing, and listen without hearing, and her
sole occupation consists in giving her orders to her com-
panion, Miss Herbey, a young English girl of about twenty.
Miss Herbey is extremely pretty. Her complexion is
fair and her eyes deep blue, while her pleasing countenance
is altogether free from that insignificance of feature which
is not unfrequently alleged to be characteristic of English
beauty. Her mouth would be charming if she ever smiled,
but, exposed as she is to the ridiculous whims and fancies
of a capricious mistress, her lips rarely relax from their
ordinary grave expression. Yet, humiliating as her posi-
tion must be, she never utters a word of open complaint,
but quietly and gracefully performs her duties, accepting
without a murmur the paltry salary which the bumptious
petroleum-merchant condescends to allow her.
The Manchester engineer, William Falsten, looks like a
thorough Englishman. He has the management of some
extensive hydraulic works in South Carolina, and is now on
his way to Europe to obtain some improved apparatus, and
more especially to visit the mines worked by centrifugal
force, belonging to the firm of Messrs. Cail. He is forty-
five years of age, with all his interests so entirely absorbed
by his machinery that he seems to have neither a thought
nor a care beyond his mechanical calculations. Once let
him engage you in conversation, and there is no chance of
escape; you have no help for it but to listen as patiently
as you can until he has completed the explanation of his
designs.
The last of our fellow-passengers, Mr. Ruby, is the type
of a vulgar tradesman. Without any originality or
magnanimity in his composition, he has spent twenty years
of his life in mere buying and selling, and as he has gener-
ally contrived to do business at a profit, he has realized a
considerable fortune. What he is going to do with the
money, he does not seem able to say: his ideas do not go
beyond retail trade, his mind having been so long closed to
all other impressions that it appears incapable of thought
or reflection on any subject besides. Pascal says,
"L'homme est visiblement fait pour penser. C'est toute
sa dignite et tout son merite;" but to Mr. Ruby the phrase
seems altogether inapplicable.
CHAPTER V
AN UNUSUAL ROUTE
OCTOBER 7. - This is the tenth day since we left Charles-
ton, and I should think our progress has been very rapid.
Robert Curtis, the mate, with whom I continue to have
many a friendly chat, informed me that we could not be far
off the Bermudas; the ship's bearings, he said, were lat.
32 deg. 20' N. and long. 64 deg. 50' W. so that he had every reason
to believe that we should sight St. George's Island before
night.
"The Bermudas!" I exclaimed. "But how is it we are
off the Bermudas? I should have thought that a vessel sail-
ing from Charleston to Liverpool, would have kept north-
ward, and have followed the track of the Gulf Stream."
"Yes, indeed, sir," replied Curtis, "that is the usual
course; but you see that this time the captain hasn't chosen
to take it."
"But why not?" I persisted.
"That's not for me to say, sir; he ordered us eastward,
and eastward we go."
"Haven't you called his attention to it?" I inquired.
Curtis acknowledged that he had already pointed out
what an unusual route they were taking, but that the cap-
tain had said that he was quite aware what he was about.
The mate made no further remark; but the knit of his brow,
as he passed his hand mechanically across his forehead,
made me fancy that he was inclined to speak out more
strongly.
"All very well, Curtis," I said, "but I don't know what
to think about trying new routes. Here we are at the 7th
of October, and if we are to reach Europe before the bad
weather sets in, I should suppose there is not a day to be
lost."
"Right, sir, quite right; there is not a day to be lost."
Struck by his manner, I ventured to add, "Do you mind,
Curtis, giving me your honest opinion of Captain Huntly?"
He hesitated a moment, and then replied shortly, "He is
my captain, sir."
This evasive answer of course put an end to any further
interrogation on my part.
Curtis was not mistaken. At about three o'clock the
look-out man sung out that there was land to windward,
and descried what seemed as if it might be a line of smoke
in the northeast horizon. At six, I went on deck with M.
Letourneur and his son, and we could then distinctly make
out the low group of the Bermudas, encircled by their
formidable chain of breakers.
"There," said Andre Letourneur to me, as we stood gaz-
ing at the distant land, "there lies the enchanted archipel-
ago, sung by your poet Moore. The exile Waller, too, as
long ago as 1643, wrote an enthusiastic panegyric on the
islands, and I have been told that at one time English ladies
would wear no other bonnets than such as were made of the
leaves of the Bermuda palm."
"Yes," I replied, "the Bermudas were all the rage in
the seventeenth century, although latterly they have fallen
into comparative oblivion."
"But let me tell you, M. Andre," interposed Curtis, who
had as usual joined our party, "that although poets may
rave, and be as enthusiastic as they like about these islands,
sailors will tell a different tale. The hidden reefs that lie
in a semicircle about two or three leagues from shore make
the attempt to land a very dangerous piece of business.
And another thing, I know. Let the natives boast as they
will about their splendid climate, they are visited by the
most frightful hurricanes. They get the fag-end of the
storms that rage over the Antilles; and the fag-end of a
storm is like the tail of a whale; it's just the strongest bit of
it. I don't think you'll find a sailor listening much to your
poets - your Moores, and your Wallers."
"No doubt you are right, Mr. Curtis," said Andre, smil-
ing, "but poets are like proverbs; you can always find one
to contradict another. Although Waller and Moore have
chosen to sing the praises of the Bermudas, it has been sup-
posed that Shakspeare was depicting them in the terrible
scenes that are found in 'The Tempest.'"
I may mention that there was not another of our fellow-
passengers who took the trouble to come on deck and give
a glance at this strange cluster of islands. Miss Herbey, it
is true, was making an attempt to join us, but she had barely
reached the poop, when Mrs. Kear's languid voice was
heard recalling her for some trifling service to her side.
CHAPTER VI
THE SARGASSO SEA
OCTOBER 8 to October 13. - The wind is blowing hard
from the northeast, and the Chancellor, under low-reefed
top-sail and fore-sail, and laboring against a heavy sea, has
been obliged to be brought ahull. The joists and girders
all creak again until one's teeth are set on edge. I am the
only passenger not remaining below; but I prefer being on
deck notwithstanding the driving rain, fine as dust, which
penetrates to the very skin. We have been driven along in
this fashion for the best part of two days; the "stiffish
breeze" has gradually freshened into "a gale"; the top-
gallants have been lowered, and, as I write, the wind is
blowing with a velocity of fifty or sixty miles an hour. Al-
though the Chancellor has many good points, her drift is
considerable, and we have been carried far to the south; we
can only guess at our precise position, as the cloudy at-
mosphere entirely precludes us from taking the sun's alti-
tude.
All along, throughout this period, my fellow-passengers
are totally ignorant of the extraordinary course that we are
taking. England lies to the northeast, yet we are sailing
directly southeast, and Robert Curtis owns that he is quite be-
wildered; he cannot comprehend why the captain, ever since
this northeasterly gale has been blowing, should persist in
allowing the ship to drive to the south, instead of tacking
to the northwest until she gets into better quarters.
I was alone with Robert Curtis to-day upon the poop,
and could not help saying to him, "Curtis, is your captain
mad?"
"Perhaps, sir, I might be allowed to ask what YOU think
upon that matter," was his cautious reply.
"Well, to say the truth," I answered. "I can hardly tell;
but I confess there is every now and then a wandering in
his eye, and an odd look on his face that I do not like.
Have you ever sailed with him before?"
"No; this is our first voyage together. Again last night
I spoke to him about the route we were taking, but he only
said he knew all about it, and that it was all right."
"What do Lieutenant Walter and your boatswain think
of it all?" I inquired.
"Think; why, they think just the same as I do," replied
the mate; "but if the captain chooses to take the ship to
China we should obey his orders."
"But surely," I exclaimed, "there must be some limit to
your obedience! Suppose the man is actually mad, what
then?"
"If he should be mad enough, Mr. Kazallon, to bring the
vessel into any real danger, I shall know what to do."
With this assurance I am forced to be content. Matters,
however, have taken a different turn to what I bargained
for when I took my passage on board the Chancellor. The
weather has become worse and worse. As I have already
said, the ship under her large low-reefed top-sail and fore
stay-sail has been brought ahull, that is to say, she copes
directly with the wind, by presenting her broad bows to the
sea; and so we go on still drift, drift, continually to the
south.
How southerly our course has been is very apparent; for
upon the night of the 11th we fairly entered upon that por-
tion of the Atlantic which is known as the Sargasso Sea.
An extensive tract of water is this, inclosed by the warm
current of the Gulf Stream, and thickly covered with the
wrack, called by the Spaniards "sargasso," the abundance
of which so seriously impeded the progress of Columbus's
vessel on his first voyage.
Each morning at daybreak the Atlantic has presented an
aspect so remarkable, that at my solicitation, M. Letourneur
and his son have ventured upon deck to witness the unusual
spectacle. The squally gusts make the metal shrouds
vibrate like harp-strings; and unless we were on our guard
to keep our clothes wrapped tightly to us, they would have
been torn off our backs in shreds. The scene presented to
our eyes is one of strangest interest. The sea, carpeted
thickly with masses of prolific fucus, is a vast unbroken
plain of vegetation, through which the vessel makes her way
as a plow. Long strips of seaweed caught up by the wind
become entangled in the rigging, and hang between the
masts in festoons of verdure; while others, varying from
two to three hundred feet in length, twine themselves up to
the very mast-head, from whence they float like streaming
pennants. For many hours now, the Chancellor has been
contending with this formidable accumulation of algae; her
masts are circled with hydrophytes; her rigging is wreathed
everywhere with creepers, fantastic as the untrammeled ten-
drils of a vine, and as she works her arduous course, there
are times when I can only compare her to an animated
grove of verdure making its mysterious way over some
illimitable prairie.
CHAPTER VII
VOICES IN THE NIGHT
OCTOBER 14. - At last we are free from the sea of vegeta-
tion, the boisterous gale has moderated into a steady breeze,
the sun is shining brightly, the weather is warm and genial,
and thus, two reefs in her top-sails, briskly and merrily
sails the Chancellor.
Under conditions so favorable, we have been able to take
the ship's bearings: our latitude, we find, is 21 deg. 33' N., our
longitude, 50 deg. 17' W.
Incomprehensible altogether is the conduct of Captain
Huntly. Here we are, already more than ten degrees south
of the point from which we started, and yet still we are per-
sistently following a southeasterly course! I cannot bring
myself to the conclusion that the man is mad. I have had
various conversations with him: he has always spoken
rationally and sensibly. He shows no tokens of insanity.
Perhaps his case is one of those in which insanity is partial,
and where the mania is of a character which extends only
to the matters connected with his profession. Yet it is un-
accountable.
I can get nothing out of Curtis; he listens coldly when-
ever I allude to the subject, and only repeats what he has
said before, that nothing short of an overt act of madness
on the part of the captain could induce him to supersede the
captain's authority, and that the imminent peril of the ship
could alone justify him in taking so decided a measure.
Last evening I went to my cabin about eight o'clock, and
after an hour's reading by the light of my cabin-lamp, I
retired to my berth and was soon asleep. Some hours later
I was aroused by an unaccustomed noise on deck. There
were heavy footsteps hurrying to and fro, and the voices
of the men were loud and eager, as if the crew were agitated
by some strange disturbance. My first impression was, that
some tacking had been ordered which rendered it needful
to fathom the yards; but the vessel continuing to lie to star-
board convinced me that this was not the origin of the com-
motion. I was curious to know the truth, and made all
haste I could to go on deck; but before I was ready, the
noise had ceased. I heard Captain Huntly return to his
cabin, and accordingly I retired again to my own berth.
Whatever may have been the meaning of the maneuver, I
cannot tell; it did not seem to result in any improvement
in the ship's pace; still it must be owned there was not much
wind to speed us along.
At six o'clock this morning I mounted the poop and made
as keen a scrutiny as I could of everything on board.
Everything appeared as usual. The Chancellor was run-
ning on the larboard tack, and carried low-sails, top-sails,
and gallant-sails. Well braced she was; and under a fresh,
but not uneasy breeze, was making no less than eleven knots
an hour.
Shortly afterward M. Letourneur and Andre came on
deck. The young man enjoyed the early morning air,
laden with its briny fragrance, and I assisted him to mount
the poop. In answer to my inquiry as to whether they had
been disturbed by any bustle in the night, Andre replied
that he did not wake at all, and had heard nothing.
"I am glad, my boy," said the father, "that you have
slept so soundly. I heard the noise of which Mr. Kazallon
speaks. It must have been about three o'clock this morning,
and it seemed to me as though they were shouting. I
thought I heard them say; 'Here, quick, look to the
hatches!' but as nobody was called up, I presumed that
nothing serious was the matter."
As he spoke I cast my eye at the panel-slides, which fore
and aft of the main-mast open into the hold. They seemed
to be all close as usual, but I now observed for the first time
that they were covered with heavy tarpauling. Wondering
in my own mind what could be the reason for these ex-
tra precautions I did not say anything to M. Letourneur,
but determined to wait until the mate should come on watch,
when he would doubtless give me, I thought, an explanation
of the mystery.
The sun rose gloriously, with every promise of a fine
dry day. The waning moon was yet above the western
horizon, for as it still wants three days to her last quarter
she does not set until 10:57 A. M. On consulting my al-
manac, I find that there will be a new moon on the 24th,
and that on that day, little as it may affect us here in mid-
ocean, the phenomenon of the high sygyzian tides will take
place on the shores of every continent and island.
At the breakfast hour M. Letourneur and Andre went
below for a cup of tea, and I remained on the poop alone.
As I expected, Curtis appeared, that he might relieve Lieu-
tenant Walter of the watch. I advanced to meet him, but be-
fore he even wished me good morning, I saw him cast a
quick and searching glance upon the deck, and then, with a
slightly contracted brow, proceed to examine the state of
the weather and the trim of the sails.
"Where is Captain Huntly?" he said to Walter.
"I have seen nothing of him," answered the lieutenant;
"is there anything fresh up?"
"Nothing whatever," was the curt reply.
They then conversed for a few moments in an undertone,
and I could see that Walter by his gesture gave a negative
answer to some question which the mate had asked him.
"Send me the boatswain, Walter," said Curtis aloud as the
lieutenant moved away.
The boatswain immediately appeared, and another con-
versation was carried on in whispers. The man repeatedly
shook his head as he replied to Curtis's inquiries, and then,
in obedience to orders, called the men who were on watch,
and made them plentifully water the tarpauling that covered
the great hatchway.
Curious to fathom the mystery I went up to Curtis and
began to talk with him upon ordinary topics, hoping that
he would himself introduce the subject that was uppermost
in my mind; finding, however, that he did not allude to it, I
asked him point blank:
"What was the matter in the night, Curtis?"
He looked at me steadily, but made no reply.
"What was it?" I repeated. "M. Letourneur and my-
self were both of us disturbed by a very unusual commotion
overhead."
"Oh, a mere nothing," he said at length; "the man at
the helm had made a false move, and we had to pipe hands
to brace the ship a bit; but it was soon all put to rights. It
was nothing, nothing at all."
I said no more; but I can not resist the impression that
Robert Curtis has not acted with me in his usual straight-
forward manner.
CHAPTER VIII
FIRE ON BOARD
OCTOBER 15 to October 18. - The wind is still in the
northeast. There is no change in the Chancellor's course,
and to an unprejudiced eye all would appear to be going on
as usual. But I have an uneasy consciousness that some-
thing is not quite right. Why should the hatchways be so
hermetically closed as though a mutinous crew was im-
prisoned between decks? I can not help thinking too that
there is something in the sailors so constantly standing in
groups and breaking off their talk so suddenly whenever we
approach; and several times I have caught the word
"hatches" which arrested M. Letourneur's attention on the
night of the disturbance.
On the 15th, while I was walking on the forecastle, I over-
heard one of the sailors, a man named Owen, say to his
mates:
"Now I just give you all warning that I am not going
to wait until the last minute. Everyone for himself, say I."
"Why, what do you mean to do?" asked Jynxstrop, the
cook.
"Pshaw!" said Owen, "do you suppose that longboats
were only made for porpoises?"
Something at that moment occurred to interrupt the con-
versation, and I heard no more. It occurred to me whether
there was not some conspiracy among the crew, of which
probably Curtis had already detected the symptoms. I am
quite aware that some sailors are most rebelliously disposed,
and required to be ruled with a rod of iron.
Yesterday and to-day I have observed Curtis remonstrat-
ing somewhat vehemently with Captain Huntly, but there
is no obvious result arising from their interviews; the cap-
tain apparently being bent upon some purpose, of which it
is only too manifest that the mate decidedly disapproves.
Captain Huntly is undoubtedly laboring under strong
nervous excitement; and M. Letourneur has more than once
remarked how silent he has become at meal-times; for al-
though Curtis continually endeavors to start some subject
of general interest, yet neither Mr. Falsten, Mr. Kear, nor
Mr. Ruby are the men to take it up, and consequently the
conversation flags hopelessly, and soon drops. The pas-
sengers too are now, with good cause, beginning to murmur
at the length of the voyage, and Mr. Kear, who considers