Captain Nemo_ The Fantastic History of a Dark Genius - Kevin J Anderson [112]
Luckily, according to Caroline’s chart marks and Nemo’s positional measurements, the Victoria had finally entered the environs of Senegal and Gambia, and they should be within a day of the west African coast.
This news cheered the travelers somewhat, but still the leaking balloon sank with discernible speed. After replenishing their supplies beyond Timbuctoo, they had discarded the last of their ballast. And now they needed to lighten their load more dramatically just to keep moving.
But the Victoria still had to pass over one more mountain range before they reached the coast. Unless Nemo could find some way to improve their buoyancy, the balloon would crash into the slopes.
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Covered with dense jungles, the line of low mountains loomed larger and more ominous by the hour. Beyond the hills, according to their maps, lay a river and lowlands that extended to the long-sought coast.
Then they would be across the continent, after five weeks in a balloon.
The sagging Victoria traveled in a weaving drunkard’s course on the erratic winds. When they dropped to within a hundred feet of the treetops, they were close enough to see terrified animals even without their well-used spyglass.
Near the base of the rugged foothills, the balloon passed over a streamside village, where they observed a huge commotion. At first, Nemo thought the frenzied activity must have been caused by the natives’ superstitious fear of their arrival, but then he noticed men tossing torches from one straw roof to another. The thatched huts went up in flames.
Tall villagers with glossy skin brandished spears defensively at men in billowing black robes riding muscular chestnut horses. The raiders carried swords and a few guns.
With a stricken expression, Caroline raised the spyglass and handed it to Nemo. Now he could make out the slaughtered forms of village defenders lying on the bloodied ground while the mounted raiders charged about rounding up women and children. Nemo’s shoulders sagged, and he felt sick with disgust and rekindled anger at seeing the atrocity of the slavers.
One lean woman, her face a mask of despair, thrashed loose from her captors and dashed toward a burning hut. Her bare breasts were swollen, and Nemo suspected she was a new mother. Before she could reach the hut, which no doubt contained her child, one of the slavers galloped by and struck her down with his long sword. Wheeling his horse about, the black-robed raider charged through the cluster of captives, as if he wanted to kill even more of them. Intimidated and outnumbered, the villagers let themselves be rounded up.
Silent and slow, the balloon drifted over the massacre, low enough that they could hear screams of anguish from the captured and dying. Sour smoke snaked around them as the flames devoured the remains of the village.
“I will not just sit idly by and allow this to happen,” Nemo said. “We must disrupt the slavers however we can.”
Wearing a grim expression, Caroline grabbed one of Fergusson’s rifles herself while the doctor picked up the other. She looked at the Englishman, studied his huge black mustache and bushy dark hair. “This time we are not taking specimens, Doctor, and I am not just drawing sketches.”
She fired the rifle at a raider and missed, but killed the horse beneath him. Fergusson aimed carefully and shot, knocking down a broad-shouldered man with a pointed beard. The other black-robed horsemen reined up and shook their fists at the balloon.
Several native women broke free of the circle and ran toward the tree-covered foothills. After Nemo reloaded Caroline’s rifle, he killed another of the dark-clad slavers, but the surge of satisfaction did little to dampen his anger. Soon, however, the balloon had passed over the scene of the massacre and continued to drift west toward the mountains.
Enraged, the mounted raiders left the burning village with only two men to