Five Weeks in a Balloon [28]
The Victoria passed near to a village which the doctor found marked upon his chart as Kaole. Its entire population had assembled in crowds, and were yelling with anger and fear, at the same time vainly directing their arrows against this monster of the air that swept along so majestically away above all their powerless fury.
The wind was setting to the southward, but the doctor felt no concern on that score, since it enabled him the better to follow the route traced by Captains Burton and Speke.
Kennedy had, at length, become as talkative as Joe, and the two kept up a continual interchange of admiring interjections and exclamations.
"Out upon stage–coaches!" said one.
"Steamers indeed!" said the other.
"Railroads! eh? rubbish!" put in Kennedy, "that you travel on, without seeing the country!"
"Balloons! they’re the sort for me!" Joe would add. "Why, you don’t feel yourself going, and Nature takes the trouble to spread herself out before one’s eyes!"
"What a splendid sight! What a spectacle! What a delight! a dream in a hammock!"
"Suppose we take our breakfast?" was Joe’s unpoetical change of tune, at last, for the keen, open air had mightily sharpened his appetite.
"Good idea, my boy!"
"Oh! it won’t take us long to do the cooking—biscuit and potted meat?"
"And as much coffee as you like," said the doctor. "I give you leave to borrow a little heat from my cylinder. There’s enough and to spare, for that matter, and so we shall avoid the risk of a conflagration."
"That would be a dreadful misfortune!" ejaculated Kennedy. "It’s the same as a powder–magazine suspended over our heads."
"Not precisely," said Ferguson, "but still if the gas were to take fire it would burn up gradually, and we should settle down on the ground, which would be disagreeable; but never fear—our balloon is hermetically sealed."
"Let us eat a bite, then," replied Kennedy.
"Now, gentlemen," put in Joe, "while doing the same as you, I’m going to get you up a cup of coffee that I think you’ll have something to say about."
"The fact is," added the doctor, "that Joe, along with a thousand other virtues, has a remarkable talent for the preparation of that delicious beverage: he compounds it of a mixture of various origin, but he never would reveal to me the ingredients."
"Well, master, since we are so far above–ground, I can tell you the secret. It is just to mix equal quantities of Mocha, of Bourbon coffee, and of Rio Nunez."
A few moments later, three steaming cups of coffee were served, and topped off a substantial breakfast, which was additionally seasoned by the jokes and repartees of the guests. Each one then resumed his post of observation.
The country over which they were passing was remarkable for its fertility. Narrow, winding paths plunged in beneath the overarching verdure. They swept along above cultivated fields of tobacco, maize, and barley, at full maturity, and here and there immense rice–fields, full of straight stalks and purple blossoms. They could distinguish sheep and goats too, confined in large cages, set up on piles to keep them out of reach of the leopards' fangs. Luxuriant vegetation spread in wild profuseness over this prodigal soil.
Village after village rang with yells of terror and astonishment at the sight of the Victoria, and Dr. Ferguson prudently kept her above the reach of the barbarian arrows. The savages below, thus baffled, ran together from their huddle of huts and followed the travellers with their vain imprecations while they remained in sight.
At noon, the doctor, upon consulting his map, calculated that they were passing over the Uzaramo[2] country. The soil was thickly studded with cocoa–nut, papaw, and cotton–wood trees, above which the balloon seemed