“Will you bet your rifle against my telescope?”
On the 7th of December, at three in the morning, the Duncan’s boilers were already building pressure. Sailors turned the capstan, pulling the anchor free from the sandy bottom of the little harbour, and up to its davit. The screw was set turning, and the yacht set sail. By eight o’clock, when the passengers came on deck, Amsterdam Island had almost disappeared into the mists of the horizon. This was the last stop on the 37th parallel, until they reached Australia, three thousand nautical miles1 away. If the west wind continued to blow fair, and the seas remained calm, the Duncan would reach Australia in twelve days.
Mary Grant and her brother could not gaze at the waves through which the Britannia must have cruised but a few days before her shipwreck, without feeling sadness. Here, perhaps, Captain Grant, with a disabled ship and diminished crew, had struggled against the formidable hurricanes of the Indian Ocean, and been driven toward the coast by an irresistible force. Captain Mangles pointed out and explained the different currents to Mary on the ship’s charts. There was one running through the Indian Ocean straight to the Australian continent, and it continued on through the southern Pacific and Atlantic oceans, circling the entire globe. It was doubtless this current which had carried the Britannia, dismasted and rudderless, unable to maneuver, until she had broken on the Australian coast.
A difficulty about this hypothesis presented itself. The last news of Captain Grant in the Mercantile and Shipping Gazette was from Callao on the 30th of May, 1862. How was it possible that on the 7th of June, only eight days after leaving the shores of Peru, the Britannia found herself in the Indian Ocean? But to this, Paganel, who was consulted on the subject, found a very plausible solution.
It was on the evening of December 12th, six days after leaving Amsterdam Island. Lord and Lady Glenarvan, Robert and Mary Grant, Captain John, MacNabbs and Paganel, were talking on the poop. As usual, the main topic of the conversation was the Britannia, as it was the only thought on board. The aforesaid difficulty was raised incidentally, and had the immediate effect of stopping all conversation.
Paganel’s head came up sharply at Glenarvan’s remark. Without saying a word, he went and fetched the document. After perusing it, he still remained silent, and simply shrugged his shoulders, as if ashamed of troubling himself about such a trifling matter.
“Well, my dear friend,” said Glenarvan, “at least give us an answer.”
“No,” said Paganel, “I will merely ask Captain John a question.’’
“Yes, Monsieur Paganel?” said John Mangles.
“Could a well fitted ship cross the Pacific Ocean from America to Australia in a month?”
“Yes, making two hundred miles a day.”
“Would that be an extraordinary speed?”
“Not at all; clipper ships often go faster.”
“Well, then, instead of ‘7 June’ on this document, suppose the sea has eaten one digit from that date, and it should read ‘17 June’ or ‘27 June,’ and all is explained.”
“Indeed,” said Lady Helena, “from May 31st to June 27th…”
“Captain Grant could easily have crossed the Pacific and found himself in the Indian Ocean.”
Paganel’s theory met with universal acceptance.
“That’s one more point cleared up,” said Glenarvan. “Thanks to our friend, all that remains to be done now is to get to Australia, and look for traces of the Britannia on the western coast.”
“Or the eastern,” said John Mangles.
“Indeed, John, you may be right, for there is nothing in the document to indicate which shore was the scene of the catastrophe, and both points of the continent crossed by the 37th parallel must therefore be explored.”
“Then, My Lord, it is doubtful, after all?” said Mary.
“Oh no, Miss Mary!” John Mangles hastened to reply, seeing the young girl’s apprehension. “His Honour will wish to point out that if Captain Grant had gained the shore on the east of Australia, he would almost immediately have found refuge and assistance. The whole of that coast is populated with English colonists. The crew of the Britannia could not have gone ten miles without meeting fellow countrymen.”
“I quite agree, Captain John,” said Paganel. “On the eastern coast Harry Grant would not only have found an English colony easily, but he would certainly have found some means of transport back to Europe.”
“And he would not have found the same resources on the side we are making for?” asked Lady Helena.
“No, Madame,” replied Paganel. “The coast is deserted, with no communication between it and Melbourne or Adelaide. If the Britannia was wrecked on those rocky shores, she would be as much cut off from all chance of help as if she had been lost on the inhospitable shores of Africa.”
“But then,” said Mary, “What has become of my father, these two years?”
“My dear Mary,” replied Paganel, “you believe it is certain that Captain Grant reached Australia after his shipwreck?”
“Yes, Monsieur Paganel.”
“Well, once on this continent, what became of Captain Grant? The suppositions we might make are not numerous. They are confined to three. Either Harry Grant and his companions have found their way to the English colonies, or they have fallen into the hands of the natives, or they are lost in the vast loneliness of Australia.” Paganel fell silent, and looked into the eyes of his listeners for any objections to his hypotheses.
“Go on, Paganel,” said Lord Glenarvan.
“I reject the first hypothesis: Harry Grant could not have reached the English colonies, or he would have been back with his children in Dundee, long ago.”
“Poor father,” murmured Mary. “Away from us for two whole years!”
“Hush, Mary,” said Robert. “Monsieur Paganel has more to tell us.”
“Alas, my boy, I cannot! All I can say is that Captain Grant is a prisoner of the Australians, or—”
“But these natives,” interrupted Lady Helena. “Are they…?”
“Reassure yourself, Madame,” said Paganel, understanding where her thoughts were leading. “These natives are savage, stupid, at the lowest level of human intelligence, but of gentle morals, and not bloodthirsty like their New Zealand neighbours. If they took the survivors of the Britannia prisoner, their lives have never been threatened, you may be sure. All travellers are unanimous in declaring that the Australian natives abhor shedding blood, and many a time they have found in them faithful allies in repelling the attacks of bands of convicts, far more cruelly inclined.”
“You hear what Monsieur Paganel tells us, Mary,” said Lady Helena, turning to the young girl. “If your father is in the hands of the natives, as the document suggests, we will find him.”
“And what if he is lost in that immense country?” asked Mary.
“Well, we’ll still find him,” declared Paganel, confidently. “Won’t we, my friends?”
“Most certainly,” said Glenarvan. And, anxious to turn the conversation in a less gloomy direction, he added “But I won’t admit the supposition of his being lost.”
“Neither will I,” said Paganel.
“Is Australia a big place?” asked Robert.
“Australia, my boy, is about four-fifths the size of Europe. It is somewhere about 775 million hectares.”
“As much as that?” said the Major,
“Yes, MacNabbs, within a yard. Do you believe now that such a country has a right to be called a ‘continent,’ as the document does?”
“Certainly, Paganel.”
“I may add,” continued the scholar, “that there are few accounts of travellers being lost in this immense country. I believe that Leichhardt is the only one whose fate is unknown, and shortly before my departure I learned from the Geographical Society that McIntyre had strong hopes of having discovered traces of him.”2
“Has all of Australia been explored?” asked Lady Helena.
“No, Madame. Far from it! This continent is not much better known than the interior of Africa, and yet it is from no lack of enterprising travellers. From 1606 to 1862, more than fifty men have been engaged in exploring Australia along the coast, and in the interior.”
“Fifty! Really?” exclaimed the incredulous MacNabbs.
“Yes, MacNabbs, as many as that. I speak of the sailors who braved the dangerous shoals and reefs to chart the Australian shores, and explorers who have traversed the continent.”
“Nevertheless, fifty is a great deal,” said the Major.
“And I might go farther, MacNabbs,” said the geographer, impatient of contradiction.
“Farther still, Paganel!”
“If you doubt me, I can give you the names.”
“Oh!” said the Major, coolly. “That’s just like you scientists. So sure of yourselves.”
“Will you bet your rifle against my telescope?”
“Major, will you bet your Purdey Moore and Dickson rifle against my Secretan telescope?”
“Why not, Paganel, if you’d like?”
“Done, Major!” said Paganel. “You may say good-bye to your rifle, for it will never shoot another chamois or fox unless I lend it to you, which I shall always be happy to do, by the way.”
“And whenever you require the use of your telescope, Paganel, I shall be equally obliging,” said the Major, gravely.
“Let us begin, then. Ladies and gentlemen, you shall be our jury. Robert, you must keep count.”
Lord and Lady Glenarvan, Mary and Robert, the Major, and John Mangles, whom the discussion amused, prepared to listen to the geographer. The Duncan was sailing toward Australia, after all, and a lesson on its history could not be more timely. Paganel was invited to begin his mnemonic tricks without delay.
“Mnemosyne! Goddess of Memory, mother of chaste Muses!” he called. “Inspire thy faithful and fervent worshipper! Two hundred and fifty-eight years ago, my friends, Australia was still unknown. The existence of a great southern continent was suspected. Two charts in the library of your British Museum, Glenarvan, dated 1550, mention a land south of Asia, which the Portuguese called Great Java. But the authenticity of these charts is questionable. In the seventeenth century, in 1606, Queirós, a Spanish navigator, discovered a land which he named Australia de Espiritu Santo. Some authors believe that this was the New Hebrides group, and not Australia. I am not going to discuss the question, however. Count Queirós, Robert, and let us pass on to another.”
“One,” said Robert.
“In that same year, Luís Vaz de Torres, the second in command of the fleet of Queirós, pushed further south to reconnoitre the new lands, but it is to Theodoric Hartog, a Dutchman, that the honour of the great discovery belongs. He landed on the western coast of Australia by 25° of latitude, and called it Eendrachtsland, after his ship. After his time, more navigators came. In 1618, Zeachen discovered the northern parts of the coast, and called them Arnheim and Diemen. In 1619, Jan Edels went along the western coast, and christened it with his own name. In 1622, the Leeuwin went down as far as the cape which became its namesake. In 1627, De Nuyts, and De Witt, the one at the west the other at the south, filled in the discoveries of their predecessors, and were followed by Commander Carpenter, who penetrated the immense gulf, still called the Gulf of Carpentaria, with his ships. Finally, in 1642, the famous Tasman rounded Van Diemen’s Land, an island which he supposed to be joined to the continent, and gave it the name of the Governor-General of Batavia, a name which posterity justly changed to Tasmania. The whole continent had now been rounded. It was known that the Indian and Pacific Oceans washed its shores, and in 1665 the name of New Holland, which it was not to keep, was bestowed on this great southern island — just about the time when the roll of Dutch navigators in its exploration was about to end. How many have we now, Robert?”
“Ten.”
The stories of Paganel
“Very well. I pass on to the English. In 1686, a buccaneer, a Brother of the Coast, one of the most celebrated freebooters of the southern seas, William Dampier, after many adventures mingled with pleasures and miseries, arrived in his ship, the Cygnet, off the northwest coast of New Holland, at latitude 16° 50′. He entered into communication with the natives, and brought home a very complete description of their manners, their poverty, and their intelligence. He came back in 1699 to the same bay where Hartog had landed, but not as a freebooter. He was in command of the Roebuck, a ship of the Royal Navy. Up to this time, the discovery of New Holland had been simply an interesting geographical fact. There was little thought of colonizing it. For almost three quarters of a century, from 1699 to 1770, it remained unvisited by any navigator. But at last came Captain Cook, the most illustrious sailor in the whole world, and it was not long until the new continent became a field for European emigration. James Cook landed in New Holland during all three of his famous voyages. The first time was on the 31st of March, 1770. After being fortunate enough to witness the transit of Venus across the sun at Otahiti3, Cook sailed his little ship, the Endeavour, to the western Pacific Ocean. There he mapped the coast of New Zealand, and subsequently reached a bay on the west coast of Australia, which he found so rich in new plants, that he gave it the name of Botanical Bay. Its present name is Botany Bay. His relations with the half-witted natives were not very interesting. From there he went north, and at 16° of latitude, near Cape Tribulation, the Endeavour struck a coral reef eight leagues from shore. The danger of sinking was imminent. Provisions and cannon had to be thrown into the sea; but the following night the tide re-floated the lightened ship. It was found that her sinking was prevented by a piece of coral that had stopped up the hole in her bottom, and Cook succeeded in bringing her safely into a small cove, at the mouth of a river which he called the Endeavour. During the three months that it took for the repairs to be completed, the English tried to establish useful communication with the natives, but they met with little success. On putting out to sea again, the Endeavour continued her route northward. Cook wished to find out whether a strait existed between New Guinea and New Holland. After encountering fresh dangers and risking his ship twenty times or more, he caught sight of the sea spreading out toward the southwest. The strait existed. He had passed through it. Cook landed on a little island, where he took possession of the whole coast he had explored in the name of England. He gave it the very British name of New South Wales. Three years later the daring sailor commanded the Adventure and the Resolution. Captain Furneaux, of the Adventure, went on to explore the coast of Van Diemen’s Land, and came back supposing that it was joined to the mainland and formed part of New Holland. It was not until 1777, at the time of his third voyage, that Cook moored his ships, the Resolution and the Discovery, in Adventure Bay, in Van Diemen’s Land. It was from there, some months afterwards, he departed for the Sandwich Islands, where he died.”
“He was a great man,” said Glenarvan.
“The most illustrious sailor who ever breathed. It was Banks, his companion, who suggested to the British Government the idea of founding a colony at Botany Bay. Navigators of all nations followed in his wake. In the last letter received from Lapérouse, written in Botany Bay and dated February 7, 1787, the unfortunate sailor announced his intention of visiting the Gulf of Carpentaria and all the coast of New Holland, as far as Van Diemen’s Land. He set out and never returned. In 1788, Captain Phillip founded the first English colony at Port Jackson. In 1791, Vancouver went a considerable distance around the southern coast of the new continent. In 1792, d’Entrecasteaux, sent in search of Lapérouse, made the tour of New Holland, west and south, discovering several unknown islands on the way. In 1795 and 1797, Flinders and Bass, two young men in a eight foot long boat, courageously pushed their way along the southern coast, and in 1797 Bass passed between Van Diemen’s Land and New Holland, through the strait that bears his name. In that same year, 1797, Vlamingh, the discoverer of Amsterdam Island, found the Swan River on the western shores, the banks of which abound with the most beautiful black swans. As for Flinders, he resumed his explorations in 1801, and at 138° 58′ of longitude and 35° 40′ of latitude, he met with two French ships in Encounter Bay: the Geographe and the Naturaliste, commanded by Captains Baudin and Hamlin.”
“Ah! Captain Baudin?” said the Major.
“Yes. What about him?”
“Oh, nothing. Go on, my dear Paganel.”
“Well, I have the name of one more navigator to add to the list — that of Captain King, who from 1817 to 1822 completed the exploration of the inter-tropical coasts of New Holland.”
“That makes twenty-four,” said Robert.
“Well, I have half your rifle already, Major. And now that I’m done with the sailors, let’s go on to the explorers on land.”
“Very good, Monsieur, Paganel,” said Lady Helena. “Really your memory is astonishing.”
“Yes,” said Lord Glenarvan, “and it is strange enough it should be in a man so—”
“So distrait,” interrupted Paganel. “Oh, I only remember dates and facts, that’s all.”
“Twenty-four,” repeated Robert,
“Well, twenty-five is Lieutenant Dawes. It was in 1789, a year after the colony of Port Jackson was founded. The tour of the continent had been made, but no one knew what it contained. A long range of mountains, running parallel to the eastern shore, seemed to forbid all approach to the interior. Lieutenant Dawes, after nine days’ march, was obliged to turn back and retrace his steps to Port Jackson. During the same year Captain Tench tried to cross the lofty chain, but could not succeed. These two failures deterred other explorers from any attempts for three years. In 1792, Colonel Paterson, a bold African explorer, made a fresh endeavour, which proved equally unsuccessful. But the following year a simple quartermaster in the English navy, the courageous Hawkins, out-distanced all his predecessors by crossing over the impassable ridge and going twenty miles beyond. He had only two imitators during the next eighteen years, and these were both unsuccessful. One was Bass, the famous sailor, and the other Bareiller, an engineer in the colony. I now arrive at the year 1813, when a passage was at last discovered to the west of Sydney. Governor Macquarrie ventured through it in 1815, and the town of Bathurst was founded beyond the Blue Mountains. After that I may mention the names of Throsby in 1819; Oxley, who went 300 miles into the interior; Hovell and Hume, who started from Twofold Bay, which is crossed by the 37th parallel, and Captain Sturt, who, in 1829 and in 1830 discovered the Darling and Murray rivers. All these are men who enriched geography with new facts, and helped to develop the colonies.”
“Thirty-six,” said Robert.
“Excellent! I’m ahead,” said Paganel. “I quote for the record Eyre and Leichhardt, who explored part of the country in 1840 and 1841; Sturt in 1845; the Gregory brothers and Helpman in 1846 in Western Australia; Kennedy in 1847 on the Victoria River, and in 1848 in Northern Australia; Gregory in 1852; Austin in 1854; the Gregory brothers in 1855 to 1858 in the northwest of the continent; Babbage, the discoverer of Lake Torrens and Lake Eyre. And I arrive at a traveller famous in the annals of Australian exploration, to Stuart, who crossed the continent three times. His first expedition into the interior was in 1860. Later, if you like, I will tell you how Australia has been traversed four times from south to north. Today, I am simply finishing this long list, and from 1860 to 1862 I will add to the names of so many hardy pioneers of science those of the Dempster brothers, and of Clarkson and Harper, Burke and Wills, Neilson, Walker, Landsborough, McKinlay, Howitt—”
“Fifty-six,” called out Robert.
“Well then, Major, I will give you good measure, for I have not yet mentioned Duperrey, Bougainville, FitzRoy, Wickham, Stokes…”
“Enough!” cried the Major, overpowered by the number.
“Neither Péron, nor Quoy,” Paganel went on, dashing along like an express train, “nor Bennett, nor Cunningham, nor Nutchell, nor Tiers—”
“Mercy!”
“Nor Dixon, nor Strzelecki, nor Reid, nor Wilkes, nor Mitchell…”4
“Stop, Paganel!” said Glenarvan, laughing heartily, “don’t completely crush poor MacNabbs. Be generous. He admits defeat!”
“And his rifle?” asked the geographer, triumphantly.
“It’s yours, Paganel,” said the Major, “and I am very sorry for it. But you have a memory to gain an entire artillery museum.”
“It is certainly impossible to be better acquainted with Australia,” said Lady Helena. “Not the least name, not even the most trifling fact.”
“As to the most trifling fact, I don’t know about that,” said the Major, shaking his head.
“What do you mean, MacNabbs?” asked Paganel.
“Simply that, perhaps, not all of the incidents connected with the discovery of Australia are known to you.”
“For example?” asked Paganel, puffing up proudly.
“If I tell you one fact you don’t know, will you give me back my rifle?” asked MacNabbs.
“On the spot, Major.”
“Bargain?”
“Bargain!”
“All right. Well now, Paganel, do you know how it is that Australia does not belong to France?”
“It seems to me—”
“Or, at any rate, do you know the reason the English give?” asked the Major.
“No, Major,” said Paganel, with an air of vexation.
“It’s because Captain Baudin, who was by no means a timid man, was so afraid in 1802, of the croaking of the Australian frogs, that he raised his anchor with all possible speed, and fled, never to return.”
“What?” exclaimed Paganel. “Do they actually teach that version of it in England? But it’s just a bad joke!”
“Bad enough, certainly, but still it is history in the United Kingdom.”
“It’s an indignity!” exclaimed the patriotic geographer. “They seriously say that?”
“I am obliged to agree, my dear Paganel” said Glenarvan, amidst a general outburst of laughter. “Do you mean to say you have never heard of it before?”
“Absolutely! I protest! Besides, the English call us ‘frog-eaters.’ Now, in general, people are not afraid of what they eat.”
“It is said, though, for all that,” replied MacNabbs.
And that’s how the famous Purdey Moore and Dickson rifle remained the property of Major MacNabbs.
1. 1,400 leagues (5,600 kilometres — DAS)
2. Ludwig Leichhardt disappeared in the Australian interior in 1848. In 1864 Duncan McIntyre discovered two trees marked with “L” on the Flinders River near the Gulf of Carpentaria, but further searching found no other traces. Leichhardt’s ultimate fate is still a mystery.
3. The passage of the planet Venus across the disk of the sun took place in 1769. This rather rare phenomenon presented a great astronomical interest as it made it possible to calculate the distance separating the earth from the sun.
4. The list of the names Paganel gives. Robert’s count is a bit off, as Paganel mentions a few people multiple times. I have removed any duplicates. And he should lose points for “Commander Carpenter,” who seems to be fictitious.