The Voyages and Adventures of Captain Hatteras. Жюль Верн

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СКАЧАТЬ after every tack, so as to be windward, as the captain of the Forward would have done.

      Dr. Clawbonny, who by his gentleness and caresses would have almost tamed the heart of a tiger, tried in vain to make friends with the dog; he met with no success.

      The dog, too, did not answer to any of the usual names of his kind. So the men used to call him "Captain," for he seemed perfectly familiar with all the ways on shipboard. He had evidently been to sea before.

      It is hence easy to understand the boatswain's answer to Clifton's friend, and how this idea found but few sceptics; more than one would repeat it jestingly, who was fully prepared to see the dog, some fine day, take human shape, and with a loud voice assume command.

      If Richard Shandon did not share such apprehensions, he was far from being undisturbed, and on the eve of departing, on the night of April 5th, he was talking on this subject with the doctor, Wall, and Johnson, in the mess-room.

      These four persons were sipping their tenth grog, which was probably their last, too; for, in accordance with the letter from Aberdeen, all the crew, from the captain to the stoker, were teetotalers, never touching beer, wine, nor spirits, except in case of sickness, and by the advice of the doctor.

      For an hour past they had been talking about their departure. If the captain's instructions were to be completely carried out, Shandon would the next day receive a letter containing his last orders.

      "If that letter," said the mate, "doesn't tell me the captain's name, it must at least tell us whither we are bound. If not, in what direction shall we sail?"

      "Upon my word," answered the impatient doctor, "if I were in your place, Shandon, I should set sail even without getting a letter; one will come after us, you may be sure."

      "You have a great deal of faith, Doctor. But, if you please, to what part of the world would you sail?"

      "Towards the North Pole, of course; there can be no doubt about that."

      "No doubt indeed!" said Wall. "Why not towards the South Pole?"

      "The South Pole! Never!" cried the doctor. "Would the captain ever have thought of sending a brig across the whole Atlantic Ocean? Just think for a moment, my dear Wall."

      "The doctor has an answer for everything," was his only reply.

      "Granted it's northward," resumed Shandon. "But tell me, Doctor, is it to Spitzbergen, Greenland, or Labrador that we have to sail, or to Hudson's Bay? If all these routes come to the same end at last, – the impassable ice, – there is still a great number of them, and I should find it very hard to choose between them. Have any definite answer to that, Doctor?"

      "No," answered the doctor, annoyed that he had nothing to say; "but if you get no letter, what shall you do?"

      "I shall do nothing; I shall wait."

      "You won't set sail!" cried Clawbonny, twirling his glass in his despair.

      "No, certainly not."

      "That's the best course," said Johnson, mildly; while the doctor walked around the table, being unable to sit quiet any longer. "Yes, that's the best course; and still, too long a delay might have very disastrous consequences. In the first place, the season is a good one, and if it's north we are going, we ought to take advantage of the mild weather to get through Davis Straits; besides, the crew will get more and more impatient; the friends and companions of the men are urging them to leave the Forward, and they might succeed in playing us a very bad turn."

      "And then, too," said James Wall, "if any panic should arise among the men, every one would desert us; and I don't know, Commander, how you could get together another crew."

      "But what is to be done?" cried Shandon.

      "What you said," answered the doctor: "wait; but wait till to-morrow before you despair. The captain's promises have all been fulfilled so far with such regularity that we may have the best hopes for the future; there's no reason to think that we shall not be told of our destination at the proper time. As for me, I don't doubt in the least that to-morrow we shall be sailing in the Irish Sea. So, my friends, I propose one last drink to a happy voyage; it begins in a mysterious way, but, with such sailors as you, there are a thousand chances of its ending well."

      And they all touched their glasses for the last time.

      "Now, Commander," resumed Johnson, "I have one piece of advice to give you, and that is, to make everything ready for sailing. Let the crew think you are certain of what you are about. To-morrow, whether a letter comes or not, set sail; don't start your fires; the wind promises to hold; nothing will be easier than to get off; take a pilot on board; at the ebb of the tide leave the docks; then anchor beyond Birkenhead Point; the crew will have no more communication with the land; and if this devilish letter does come at last, it can find us there as well as anywhere."

      "Well said, Johnson!" exclaimed the doctor, reaching out his hand to the old sailor.

      "That's what we shall do," answered Shandon.

      Each one then withdrew to his cabin, and took what sleep he could get till morning.

      The next day the first distribution of letters took place in the city, but there was none for Commander Richard Shandon.

      Nevertheless he made his preparations for departure; the news spread immediately throughout the city, and, as we have seen, a great concourse of spectators thronged the piers of the New Prince's Docks.

      A great many people came on board the brig, – some to bid a friend good by, or to urge him to leave the ship, or to gaze at this strange vessel; others to ascertain the object of the voyage; and there were many murmurs at the unusual silence of the commander.

      For that he had his reasons.

      Ten o'clock struck. Eleven. The tide was to turn at half past twelve. Shandon, from the upper deck, gazed with anxious eyes at the crowd, trying in vain to read on some one's face the secret of his fate. But in vain. The sailors of the Forward obeyed his orders in silence, keeping their eyes fixed upon him, ever awaiting some information which he did not give.

      Johnson was finishing the preparations for setting sail. The day was overcast, and the sea, outside of the docks, rather high; a stiff southwest breeze was blowing, but they could easily leave the Mersey.

      At twelve o'clock still nothing. Dr. Clawbonny walked up and down uneasily, looking about, gesticulating, and "impatient for the sea," as he said. In spite of all he could do, he felt excited. Shandon bit his lips till the blood came.

      At this moment Johnson came up to him and said, —

      "Commander, if we are going to take this tide, we must lose no time; it will be a good hour before we can get off from the docks."

      Shandon cast one last glance about him, and looked at his watch. It was after the time of the midday distribution of letters.

      "Cast off!" he said to his boatswain.

      "All ashore who are going!" cried the latter, ordering the spectators to leave the deck of the Forward.

      Thereupon the crowd, began to move toward the gangway and make its way on to the quay, while the crew began to cast off the last moorings.

      At once the inevitable confusion of the crowd, which was pushed about without much ceremony by the sailors, was increased by the barking of the СКАЧАТЬ