Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius - Kevin J Anderson [111]
Fergusson leaned over the side of the balloon. “Only one white man has ever laid eyes upon Timbuctoo and returned to tell the tale.”
“Yes -- a Frenchman, Rene Caillié,” Nemo said with a knowing smile. “He posed as an Arab, learned Arab ways, and joined a caravan. He started at the Senegal coast and journeyed inland until he reached Timbuctoo, where he spent a month recording his observations. Instead of returning the way he came, he headed north across the Sahara and finally reached Morocco two years later.”
Dr. Fergusson desperately wanted to descend, to be the first Englishman there, but Nemo didn’t dare waste their precious buoyancy. As the balloon drifted beyond Timbuctoo toward a green line of hills, Caroline put a hand on Nemo’s arm. They still had a long journey to the coast.
xi
Ahead, a black and brown buzzing cloud shifted with the winds, and then came straight for the balloon as if it were an intelligent, destructive storm. Fergusson stared perplexed at the oncoming apparition, trying to figure out what to write in his logbook.
But Nemo understood what it was. “It’s a plague of locusts! They’ll eat everything.” In the distance, they could all see that the grasslands had been completely razed.
Helpless and adrift, the travelers had no way to defend themselves as the locusts attacked like a hurricane. A hail of winged grasshoppers pelted them, striking the basket, the ropes, and the balloon fabric itself. The insects chewed every scrap of vegetable matter. Nemo tried to keep Caroline covered at the bottom of the balloon car, but she insisted on fighting back and climbed up to swat the locusts off the basket and her clothing.
Coughing, Nemo slapped the insects away from his face and knocked them from the vital ropes. The voracious grasshoppers chewed at the cords and netting, clustering on anything they could devour. The sheer weight of the winged vermin made the balloon droop.
Fergusson hauled out his rifle, as if that might do anything, and then set to work crushing the insects himself with the wooden stock. Nemo, his hands smeared with ichor from hundreds of smashed locusts, crawled up the rope to reach the outer netting. He clambered around the cords, brushing grasshoppers off into the air, but they merely circled back.
The buzzing sound was deafening. Caroline shouted to Nemo, but he couldn’t understand her words. He watched her climb the opposite side of the balloon, working desperately, and then he saw what she had realized. If they didn’t keep the insects away from the surrounding mesh, the balloon and the ropes would all fall apart, and they would plummet to their deaths.
Fergusson stamped on the locusts chewing the Victoria’s basket. The humming made the air itself vibrate, as the swirling cloud of grasshoppers kept coming and coming. Nemo reached the top of the balloon and nearly lost his grip as a frayed strand of netting snapped.
“It’s like one of the plagues of Moses.” Caroline spat out a grasshopper that had flown into her mouth. Surprisingly agile, she climbed around the balloon, keeping the ropes clear, while Fergusson hurled curses at the grasshoppers.
Then, a few moments later the lush grasslands to the east proved a more tempting feast to the locusts. As the mindless swarm flew onward, some alighted, gnawed a mouthful of the basket frame or rope fibers, then moved on. They watched in awe as the buzzing cloud continued like a school of tiny piranhas to clear vegetation across the African countryside.
Nemo and Caroline at last lowered themselves into the Victoria’s basket, then spent several minutes picking grasshoppers from each other’s hair and collars, pockets, and folds. At any other time, they might have found it amusing.
In the aftermath of the swarm, the balloon looked ragged and tattered, as if the whole vessel had been chewed