Chương Chương 35 · What happened to Joe.—The Island of the Biddiomahs.—The Adoration shown

. What happened to Joe.—The Island of the Biddiomahs.—The Adoration shown

him.—The Island that sank.—The Shores of the Lake.—The Tree of the

Serpents.—The Foot-Tramp.—Terrible Suffering.—Mosquitoes and

Ants.—Hunger.—The Victoria seen.—She disappears.—The Swamp.—One Last

Despairing Cry.

What had become of Joe, while his master was thus vainly seeking for

him?

When he had dashed headlong into the lake, his first movement on coming

to the surface was to raise his eyes and look upward. He saw the

_Victoria_ already risen far above the water, still rapidly ascending

and growing smaller and smaller. It was soon caught in a rapid current

and disappeared to the northward. His master—both his friends were

saved!

“How lucky it was,” thought he, “that I had that idea to throw myself

out into the lake! Mr. Kennedy would soon have jumped at it, and he

would not have hesitated to do as I did, for nothing’s more natural

than for one man to give himself up to save two others. That’s

mathematics!”

Satisfied on this point, Joe began to think of himself. He was in the

middle of a vast lake, surrounded by tribes unknown to him, and

probably ferocious. All the greater reason why he should get out of the

scrape by depending only on himself. And so he gave himself no farther

concern about it.

Before the attack by the birds of prey, which, according to him, had

behaved like real condors, he had noticed an island on the horizon, and

determining to reach it, if possible, he put forth all his knowledge

and skill in the art of swimming, after having relieved himself of the

most troublesome part of his clothing. The idea of a stretch of five or

six miles by no means disconcerted him; and therefore, so long as he

was in the open lake, he thought only of striking out straight ahead

and manfully.

In about an hour and a half the distance between him and the island had

greatly diminished.

But as he approached the land, a thought, at first fleeting and then

tenacious, arose in his mind. He knew that the shores of the lake were

frequented by huge alligators, and was well aware of the voracity of

those monsters.

Now, no matter how much he was inclined to find every thing in this

world quite natural, the worthy fellow was no little disturbed by this

reflection. He feared greatly lest white flesh like his might be

particularly acceptable to the dreaded brutes, and advanced only with

extreme precaution, his eyes on the alert on both sides and all around

him. At length, he was not more than one hundred yards from a bank,

covered with green trees, when a puff of air strongly impregnated with

a musky odor reached him.

“There!” said he to himself, “just what I expected. The crocodile isn’t

far off!”

With this he dived swiftly, but not sufficiently so to avoid coming

into contact with an enormous body, the scaly surface of which

scratched him as he passed. He thought himself lost and swam with

desperate energy. Then he rose again to the top of the water, took

breath and dived once more. Thus passed a few minutes of unspeakable

anguish, which all his philosophy could not overcome, for he thought,

all the while, that he heard behind him the sound of those huge jaws

ready to snap him up forever. In this state of mind he was striking out

under the water as noiselessly as possible when he felt himself seized

by the arm and then by the waist.

Poor Joe! he gave one last thought to his master; and began to struggle

with all the energy of despair, feeling himself the while drawn along,

but not toward the bottom of the lake, as is the habit of the crocodile

when about to devour its prey, but toward the surface.

So soon as he could get breath and look around him, he saw that he was

between two natives as black as ebony, who held him, with a firm grip,

and uttered strange cries.

“Ha!” said Joe, “blacks instead of crocodiles! Well, I prefer it as it

is; but how in the mischief dare these fellows go in bathing in such

places?”

Joe was not aware that the inhabitants of the islands of Lake Tchad,

like many other negro tribes, plunge with impunity into sheets of water

infested with crocodiles and caymans, and without troubling their heads

about them. The amphibious denizens of this lake enjoy the

well-deserved reputation of being quite inoffensive.

But had not Joe escaped one peril only to fall into another? That was a

question which he left events to decide; and, since he could not do

otherwise, he allowed himself to be conducted to the shore without

manifesting any alarm.

“Evidently,” thought he, “these chaps saw the _Victoria_ skimming the

waters of the lake, like a monster of the air. They were the distant

witnesses of my tumble, and they can’t fail to have some respect for a

man that fell from the sky! Let them have their own way, then.”

Joe was at this stage of his meditations, when he was landed amid a

yelling crowd of both sexes, and all ages and sizes, but not of all

colors. In fine, he was surrounded by a tribe of Biddiomahs as black as

jet. Nor had he to blush for the scantiness of his costume, for he saw

that he was in “undress” in the highest style of that country.

But before he had time to form an exact idea of the situation, there

was no mistaking the agitation of which he instantly became the object,

and this soon enabled him to pluck up courage, although the adventure

of Kazeh did come back rather vividly to his memory.

“I foresee that they are going to make a god of me again,” thought he,

“some son of the moon most likely. Well, one trade’s as good as another

when a man has no choice. The main thing is to gain time. Should the

_Victoria_ pass this way again, I’ll take advantage of my new position

to treat my worshippers here to a miracle when I go sailing up into the

sky!”

While Joe’s thoughts were running thus, the throng pressed around him.

They prostrated themselves before him; they howled; they felt him; they

became even annoyingly familiar; but at the same time they had the

consideration to offer him a superb banquet consisting of sour milk and

rice pounded in honey. The worthy fellow, making the best of every

thing, took one of the heartiest luncheons he ever ate in his life, and

gave his new adorers an exalted idea of how the gods tuck away their

food upon grand occasions.

When evening came, the sorcerers of the island took him respectfully by

the hand, and conducted him to a sort of house surrounded with

talismans; but, as he was entering it, Joe cast an uneasy look at the

heaps of human bones that lay scattered around this sanctuary. But he

had still more time to think about them when he found himself at last

shut up in the cabin.

During the evening and through a part of the night, he heard festive

chantings, the reverberations of a kind of drum, and a clatter of old

iron, which were very sweet, no doubt, to African ears. Then there were

howling choruses, accompanied by endless dances by gangs of natives who

circled round and round the sacred hut with contortions and grimaces.

Joe could catch the sound of this deafening orchestra, through the mud

and reeds of which his cabin was built; and perhaps under other

circumstances he might have been amused by these strange ceremonies;

but his mind was soon disturbed by quite different and less agreeable

reflections. Even looking at the bright side of things, he found it

both stupid and sad to be left alone in the midst of this savage

country and among these wild tribes. Few travellers who had penetrated

to these regions had ever again seen their native land. Moreover, could

he trust to the worship of which he saw himself the object? He had good

reason to believe in the vanity of human greatness; and he asked

himself whether, in this country, adoration did not sometimes go to the

length of eating the object adored!

But, notwithstanding this rather perplexing prospect, after some hours

of meditation, fatigue got the better of his gloomy thoughts, and Joe

fell into a profound slumber, which would have lasted no doubt until

sunrise, had not a very unexpected sensation of dampness awakened the

sleeper. Ere long this dampness became water, and that water gained so

rapidly that it had soon mounted to Joe’s waist.

“What can this be?” said he; “a flood! a water-spout! or a new torture

invented by these blacks? Faith, though, I’m not going to wait here

till it’s up to my neck!”

And, so saying, he burst through the frail wall with a jog of his

powerful shoulder, and found himself—where?—in the open lake! Island

there was none. It had sunk during the night. In its place, the watery

immensity of Lake Tchad!

“A poor country for the land-owners!” said Joe, once more vigorously

resorting to his skill in the art of natation.

One of those phenomena, which are by no means unusual on Lake Tchad,

had liberated our brave Joe. More than one island, that previously

seemed to have the solidity of rock, has been submerged in this way;

and the people living along the shores of the mainland have had to pick

up the unfortunate survivors of these terrible catastrophes.

Joe knew nothing about this peculiarity of the region, but he was none

the less ready to profit by it. He caught sight of a boat drifting

about, without occupants, and was soon aboard of it. He found it to be

but the trunk of a tree rudely hollowed out; but there were a couple of

paddles in it, and Joe, availing himself of a rapid current, allowed

his craft to float along.

“But let us see where we are,” he said. “The polar-star there, that

does its work honorably in pointing out the direction due north to

everybody else, will, most likely, do me that service.”

He discovered, with satisfaction, that the current was taking him

toward the northern shore of the lake, and he allowed himself to glide

with it. About two o’clock in the morning he disembarked upon a

promontory covered with prickly reeds, that proved very provoking and

inconvenient even to a philosopher like him; but a tree grew there

expressly to offer him a bed among its branches, and Joe climbed up

into it for greater security, and there, without sleeping much,

however, awaited the dawn of day.

When morning had come with that suddenness which is peculiar to the

equatorial regions, Joe cast a glance at the tree which had sheltered

him during the last few hours, and beheld a sight that chilled the

marrow in his bones. The branches of the tree were literally covered

with snakes and chameleons! The foliage actually was hidden beneath

their coils, so that the beholder might have fancied that he saw before

him a new kind of tree that bore reptiles for its leaves and fruit. And

all this horrible living mass writhed and twisted in the first rays of

the morning sun! Joe experienced a keen sensation or terror mingled

with disgust, as he looked at it, and he leaped precipitately from the

tree amid the hissings of these new and unwelcome bedfellows.

“Now, there’s something that I would never have believed!” said he.

He was not aware that Dr. Vogel’s last letters had made known this

singular feature of the shores of Lake Tchad, where reptiles are more

numerous than in any other part of the world. But after what he had

just seen, Joe determined to be more circumspect for the future; and,

taking his bearings by the sun, he set off afoot toward the northeast,

avoiding with the utmost care cabins, huts, hovels, and dens of every

description, that might serve in any manner as a shelter for human

beings.

How often his gaze was turned upward to the sky! He hoped to catch a

glimpse, each time, of the _Victoria;_ and, although he looked vainly

during all that long, fatiguing day of sore foot-travel, his confident

reliance on his master remained undiminished. Great energy of character

was needed to enable him thus to sustain the situation with philosophy.

Hunger conspired with fatigue to crush him, for a man’s system is not

greatly restored and fortified by a diet of roots, the pith of plants,

such as the _mélé_, or the fruit of the _doum_ palm-tree; and yet,

according to his own calculations, Joe was enabled to push on about

twenty miles to the westward.

His body bore in scores of places the marks of the thorns with which

the lake-reeds, the acacias, the mimosas, and other wild shrubbery

through which he had to force his way, are thickly studded; and his

torn and bleeding feet rendered walking both painful and difficult. But

at length he managed to react against all these sufferings; and when

evening came again, he resolved to pass the night on the shores of Lake

Tchad.

There he had to endure the bites of myriads of insects—gnats,

mosquitoes, ants half an inch long, literally covered the ground; and,

in less than two hours, Joe had not a rag remaining of the garments

that had covered him, the insects having devoured them! It was a

terrible night, that did not yield our exhausted traveller an hour of

sleep. During all this time the wild-boars and native buffaloes,

reënforced by the _ajoub_—a very dangerous species of

_lamantine_—carried on their ferocious revels in the bushes and under

the waters of the lake, filling the night with a hideous concert. Joe

dared scarcely breathe. Even his courage and coolness had hard work to

bear up against so terrible a situation.

At length, day came again, and Joe sprang to his feet precipitately;

but judge of the loathing he felt when he saw what species of creature

had shared his couch—a toad!—but a toad five inches in length, a

monstrous, repulsive specimen of vermin that sat there staring at him

with huge round eyes. Joe felt his stomach revolt at the sight, and,

regaining a little strength from the intensity of his repugnance, he

rushed at the top of his speed and plunged into the lake. This sudden

bath somewhat allayed the pangs of the itching that tortured his whole

body; and, chewing a few leaves, he set forth resolutely, again feeling

an obstinate resolution in the act, for which he could hardly account

even to his own mind. He no longer seemed to have entire control of his

own acts, and, nevertheless, he felt within him a strength superior to

despair.

However, he began now to suffer terribly from hunger. His stomach, less

resigned than he was, rebelled, and he was obliged to fasten a tendril

of wild-vine tightly about his waist. Fortunately, he could quench his

thirst at any moment, and, in recalling the sufferings he had undergone

in the desert, he experienced comparative relief in his exemption from

that other distressing want.

“What can have become of the _Victoria?_” he wondered. “The wind blows

from the north, and she should be carried back by it toward the lake.

No doubt the doctor has gone to work to right her balance, but

yesterday would have given him time enough for that, so that may be

to-day—but I must act just as if I was never to see him again. After

all, if I only get to one of the large towns on the lake, I’ll find

myself no worse off than the travellers my master used to talk about.

Why shouldn’t I work my way out of the scrape as well as they did? Some

of them got back home again. Come, then! the deuce! Cheer up, my boy!”

Thus talking to himself and walking on rapidly, Joe came right upon a

horde of natives in the very depths of the forest, but he halted in

time and was not seen by them. The negroes were busy poisoning arrows

with the juice of the _euphorbium_—a piece of work deemed a great

affair among these savage tribes, and carried on with a sort of

ceremonial solemnity.

Joe, entirely motionless and even holding his breath, was keeping

himself concealed in a thicket, when, happening to raise his eyes, he

saw through an opening in the foliage the welcome apparition of the

balloon—the _Victoria_ herself—moving toward the lake, at a height of

only about one hundred feet above him. But he could not make himself

heard; he dared not, could not make his friends even see him!

Tears came to his eyes, not of grief but of thankfulness; his master

was then seeking him; his master had not left him to perish! He would

have to wait for the departure of the blacks; then he could quit his

hiding-place and run toward the borders of Lake Tchad!

But by this time the _Victoria_ was disappearing in the distant sky.

Joe still determined to wait for her; she would come back again,

undoubtedly. She did, indeed, return, but farther to the eastward. Joe

ran, gesticulated, shouted—but all in vain! A strong breeze was

sweeping the balloon away with a speed that deprived him of all hope.

For the first time, energy and confidence abandoned the heart of the

unfortunate man. He saw that he was lost. He thought his master gone

beyond all prospect of return. He dared no longer think; he would no

longer reflect!

Like a crazy man, his feet bleeding, his body cut and torn, he walked

on during all that day and a part of the next night. He even dragged

himself along, sometimes on his knees, sometimes with his hands. He saw

the moment nigh when all his strength would fail, and nothing would be

left to him but to sink upon the ground and die.

Thus working his way along, he at length found himself close to a

marsh, or what he knew would soon become a marsh, for night had set in

some hours before, and he fell by a sudden misstep into a thick,

clinging mire. In spite of all his efforts, in spite of his desperate

struggles, he felt himself sinking gradually in the swampy ooze, and in

a few minutes he was buried to his waist.

“Here, then, at last, is death!” he thought, in agony, “and what a

death!”

He now began to struggle again, like a madman; but his efforts only

served to bury him deeper in the tomb that the poor doomed lad was

hollowing for himself; not a log of wood or a branch to buoy him up;

not a reed to which he might cling! He felt that all was over! His eyes

convulsively closed!

“Master! master!—Help!” were his last words; but his voice, despairing,

unaided, half stifled already by the rising mire, died away feebly on

the night.