Jules Verne (11 page)

Dick Sand had, in all sincerity, examined his conscience.

If he was capable of taking in or setting the sails of the schooner,
according to circumstances, by employing the arms of Tom and his
companions, he evidently did not yet possess all the knowledge
necessary to determine his position by calculation.

In four or five years more, Dick Sand would know thoroughly that
beautiful and difficult sailor's craft. He would know how to use the
sextant—that instrument which Captain Hull's hand had held every day,
and which gave him the height of the stars. He would read on the
chronometer the hour of the meridian of Greenwich, and from it would be
able to deduce the longitude by the hour angle. The sun would be made
his counselor each day. The moon—the planets would say to him, "There,
on that point of the ocean, is thy ship!" That firmament, on which the
stars move like the hands of a perfect clock, which nothing shakes nor
can derange, and whose accuracy is absolute—that firmament would tell
him the hours and the distances. By astronomical observations he would
know, as his captain had known every day, nearly to a mile, the place
occupied by the "Pilgrim," and the course followed as well as the
course to follow.

And now, by reckoning, that is by the progress measured on the log,
pointed out by the compass, and corrected by the drift, he must alone
ask his way.

However, he did not falter.

Mrs. Weldon understood all that was passing in the young novice's
resolute heart.

"Thank you, Dick," she said to him, in a voice which did not tremble.
"Captain Hull is no more. All his crew have perished with him. The fate
of the ship is in your hands! Dick, you will save the ship and those on
board!"

"Yes, Mrs. Weldon," replied Dick Sand, "yes! I shall attempt it, with
the aid of God!"

"Tom and his companions are honest men on whom you can depend entirely."

"I know it, and I shall make sailors of them, and we shall work
together. With fine weather that will be easy. With bad weather—well,
with bad weather, we shall strive, and we shall save you yet, Mrs.
Weldon—you and your little Jack, both! Yes, I feel that I shall do it."

And he repeated:

"With the aid of God!"

"Now, Dick, can you tell where the 'Pilgrim' is?" asked Mrs. Weldon.

"Easily," replied the novice. "I have only to consult the chart on
board, on which her position was marked yesterday by Captain Hull."

"And will you be able to put the ship in the right direction?"

"Yes, I shall be able to put her prow to the east, nearly at the point
of the American coast that we must reach."

"But, Dick," returned Mrs. Weldon, "you well understand, do you not,
that this catastrophe may, and indeed must, modify our first projects?
It is no longer a question of taking the 'Pilgrim' to Valparaiso. The
nearest port of the American coast is now her port of destination."

"Certainly, Mrs. Weldon," replied the novice. "So fear nothing! We
cannot fail to reach that American coast which stretches so far to the
south."

"Where is it situated?" asked Mrs. Weldon.

"There, in that direction," replied Dick Sand, pointing to the east,
which he knew by means of the compass.

"Well, Dick, we may reach Valparaiso, or any other part of the coast.
What matter? What we want is to land."

"And we shall do it, Mrs. Weldon, and I shall land you on a good
place," replied the young man, in a firm voice. "Besides, in standing
in for the land, I do not renounce the hope of encountering some of
those vessels which do the coasting trade on that shore. Ah! Mrs.
Weldon, the wind begins to blow steadily from the northwest! God grant
that it may keep on; we shall make progress, and good progress. We
shall drive in the offing with all our sails set, from the brigantine
to the flying-jib!"

Dick Sand had spoken with the confidence of the seaman, who feels that
he stands on a good ship, a ship of whose every movement he is master.
He was going to take the helm and call his companions to set the sails
properly, when Mrs. Weldon reminded him that he ought first to know the
"Pilgrim's" position.

It was, indeed, the first thing to do. Dick Sand went into the
captain's cabin for the chart on which the position of the day before
was indicated. He could then show Mrs. Weldon that the schooner was in
latitude 43° 35', and in longitude 164° 13', for, in the last
twenty-four hours, she had not, so to say, made any progress.

Mrs. Weldon leaned over this chart. She looked at the brown color which
represented the land on the right of the ocean. It was the coast of
South America, an immense barrier thrown between the Pacific and the
Atlantic from Cape Horn to the shores of Columbia. To consider it in
that way, that chart, which, was then spread out under her eyes, on
which was drawn a whole ocean, gave the impression that it would be
easy to restore the "Pilgrim's" passengers to their country. It is an
illusion which is invariably produced on one who is not familiar with
the scale on which marine charts are drawn. And, in fact, it seemed to
Mrs. Weldon that the land ought to be in sight, as it was on that piece
of paper!

And, meanwhile, on that white page, the "Pilgrim" drawn on an exact
scale, would be smaller than the most microscopic of infusoria! That
mathematical point, without appreciable dimensions, would appear lost,
as it was in reality in the immensity of the Pacific!

Dick Sand himself had not experienced the same impression as Mrs.
Weldon. He knew how far off the land was, and that many hundreds of
miles would not suffice to measure the distance from it. But he had
taken his part; he had become a man under the responsibility which had
fallen upon him.

The moment to act had come. He must profit by this northwest breeze
which was blowing up. Contrary winds had given place to favorable
winds, and some clouds scattered in the zenith under the cirrous form,
indicated that they would blow steadily for at least a certain time.

Dick called Tom and his companions.

"My friends," he said to them, "our ship has no longer any crew but
you. I cannot work without your aid. You are not sailors, but you have
good arms. Place them, then, at the 'Pilgrim's' service and we can
steer her. Every one's salvation depends on the good work of every one
on board."

"Mr. Dick," replied Tom, "my companions and I, we are your sailors. Our
good will shall not be wanting. All that men can do, commanded by you,
we shall do it."

"Well spoken, old Tom," said Mrs. Weldon.

"Yes, well spoken," continued Dick Sand; "but we must be prudent, and I
shall not carry too much canvas, so as not to run any risk.
Circumstances require a little less speed, but more security. I will
show you, my friends, what each will have to do in the work. As to me,
I shall remain at the helm, as long as fatigue does not oblige me to
leave it. From time to time a few hours' sleep will be sufficient to
restore me. But, during those few hours, it will be very necessary for
one of you to take my place. Tom, I shall show you how we steer by
means of the mariner's compass. It is not difficult, and, with a little
attention, you will soon learn to keep the ship's head in the right
direction."

"Whenever you like, Mr. Dick," replied the old black.

"Well," replied the novice, "stay near me at the helm till the end of
the day, and if fatigue overcomes me, you will then be able to replace
me for a few hours."

"And I," said little Jack, "will I not be able to help my friend, Dick,
a little?"

"Yes, dear child," replied Mrs. Weldon, clasping Jack in her arms, "you
shall learn to steer, and I am sure that while you are at the helm we
shall have good winds."

"Very sure—very sure. Mother, I promise it to you," replied the little
boy, clapping his hands.

"Yes," said the young novice, smiling, "good cabin-boys know how to
maintain good winds. That is well known by old sailors." Then,
addressing Tom, and the other blacks: "My friends," he said to them,
"we are going to put the 'Pilgrim' under full sail. You will only have
to do what I shall tell you."

"At your orders," replied Tom, "at your orders, Captain Sand."

Dick Sand was then captain of the "Pilgrim," and, without losing an
instant, he took the necessary measures for putting the ship under full
sail.

It was well understood that the passengers could have only one
hope—that of reaching some part of the American coast, if not
Valparaiso. What Dick Sand counted on doing was to ascertain the
direction and speed of the "Pilgrim," so as to get an average. For
that, it was sufficient to make each day on the chart the way made, as
it has been said, by the log and the compass. There was then on board
one of those "patent logs," with an index and helix, which give the
speed very exactly for a fixed time. This useful instrument, very
easily handled, could render the most useful services, and the blacks
were perfectly adapted to work it.

A single cause of error would interfere—the currents. To combat it,
reckoning would be insufficient; astronomical observations alone would
enable one to render an exact calculation from it. Now, those
observations the young novice was still unable to make.

For an instant Dick Sand had thought of bringing the "Pilgrim" back to
New Zealand. The passage would be shorter, and he would certainly have
done it if the wind, which, till then, had been contrary, had not
become favorable. Better worth while then to steer for America.

In fact, the wind had changed almost to the contrary direction, and now
it blew from the northwest with a tendency to freshen. It was then
necessary to profit by it and make all the headway possible.

So Dick Sand prepared to put the "Pilgrim" under full sail.

In a schooner brig-rigged, the foremast carries four square sails; the
foresail, on the lower mast; above, the top-sail, on the topmast;
then, on the top-gallant mast, a top-sail and a royal.

The mainmast, on the contrary, has fewer sails. It only carries a
brigantine below, and a fore-staffsail above. Between these two masts,
on the stays which support them at the prow, a triple row of triangular
sails may be set.

Finally, at the prow, on the bowsprit, and its extreme end, were hauled
the three jibs.

The jibs, the brigantine, the fore-staff, and the stay-sails are easily
managed. They can be hoisted from the deck without the necessity of
climbing the masts, because they are not fastened on the yards by means
of rope-bands, which must be previously loosened.

On the contrary, the working of the foremast sails demands much greater
proficiency in seamanship. In fact, when it is necessary to set them,
the sailors must climb by the rigging—it may be in the foretop, it
may be on the spars of the top-gallant mast, it may be to the top of
the said mast—and that, as well in letting them fly as in drawing them
in to diminish their surface in reefing them. Thence the necessity of
running out on foot-ropes—movable ropes stretched below the yards—of
working with one hand while holding on by the other—perilous work for
any one who is not used to it. The oscillation from the rolling and
pitching of the ship, very much increased by the length of the lever,
the flapping of the sails under a stiff breeze, have often sent a man
overboard. It was then a truly dangerous operation for Tom and his
companions.

Very fortunately, the wind was moderate. The sea had not yet had time
to become rough. The rolling and pitching kept within bounds.

When Dick Sand, at Captain Hull's signal, had steered toward the scene
of the catastrophe, the "Pilgrim" only carried her jibs, her
brigantine, her foresail, and her top-sail. To get the ship under way
as quickly as possible, the novice had only to make use of, that is, to
counter-brace, the foresail. The blacks had easily helped him in that
maneuver.

The question now was to get under full sail, and, to complete the
sails, to hoist the top-sails, the royal, the fore-staff, and the
stay-sails.

"My friends," said the novice to the five blacks, "do as I tell you,
and all will go right."

Dick Sand was standing at the wheel of the helm.

"Go!" cried he. "Tom, let go that rope quickly!"

"Let go?" said Tom, who did not understand that expression.

"Yes, loosen it! Now you, Bat—the same thing! Good! Heave—haul taut.
Let us see, pull it in!"

"Like that?" said Bat.

"Yes, like that. Very good. Come, Hercules—strong. A good pull there!"

To say "strong" to Hercules was, perhaps, imprudent. The giant of
course gave a pull that brought down the rope.

"Oh! not so strong, my honest fellow!" cried Dick Sand, smiling. "You
are going to bring down the masts!"

"I have hardly pulled," replied Hercules.

"Well, only make believe! You will see that that will be enough! Well,
slacken—cast off! Make fast—Make fast—like that! Good! All together!
Heave—pull on the braces."

And the whole breadth of the foremast, whose larboard braces had been
loosened, turned slowly. The wind then swelling the sails imparted a
certain speed to the ship.

Dick Sand then had the jib sheet-ropes loosened. Then he called the
blacks aft:

"Behold what is done, my friends, and well done. Now let us attend to
the mainmast. But break nothing, Hercules."

"I shall try," replied the colossus, without being willing to promise
more.

This second operation was quite easy. The main-boom sheet-rope having
been let go gently, the brigantine took the wind more regularly, and
added its powerful action to that of the forward sails.

The fore-staff was then set above the brigantine, and, as it is simply
brailed up, there was nothing to do but bear on the rope, to haul
aboard, then to secure it. But Hercules pulled so hard, along with his
friend Acteon, without counting little Jack, who had joined them, that
the rope broke off.