In Search of the Castaways [215]
that I was scarcely thirty fathoms off, when it tacked about. "This provoked me to the despairing cry, which only my two children heard. It was no illusion. "Then I came back to the shore, exhausted and overcome with emotion and fatigue. My two sailors received me half dead. It was a horrible night this last we spent on the island, and we believed ourselves abandoned forever, when day dawned, and there was the yacht sailing nearly alongside, under easy steam. Your boat was lowered--we were saved--and, oh, wonder of Divine goodness, my children, my beloved children, were there holding out their arms to me!" Robert and Mary almost smothered their father with kisses and caresses as he ended his narrative. It was now for the first time that the captain heard that he owed his deliverance to the somewhat hieroglyphical V. IV Verne document which he had placed in a bottle and confined to the mercy of the ocean. But what were Jacques Paganel's thoughts during Captain Grant's recital? The worthy geographer was turning over in his brain for the thousandth time the words of the document. He pondered his three successive interpretations, all of which had proved false. How had this island, called Maria Theresa, been indicated in the papers originally? At last Paganel could contain himself no longer, and seizing Harry Grant's hand, he exclaimed: "Captain! will you tell me at last what really was in your indecipherable document?" A general curiosity was excited by this question of the geographer, for the enigma which had been for nine months a mystery was about to be explained. "Well, captain," repeated Paganel, "do you remember the precise words of the document?" "Exactly," replied Harry Grant; "and not a day has passed without my recalling to memory words with which our last hopes were linked." "And what are they, captain?" asked Glenarvan. "Speak, for our _amour propre_ is wounded to the quick!" "I am ready to satisfy you," replied Harry Grant; "but, you know, to multiply the chances of safety, I had inclosed three documents in the bottle, in three different languages. Which is it you wish to hear?" "They are not identical, then?" cried Paganel. "Yes, they are, almost to a word." "Well, then, let us have the French document," replied Glenarvan. "That is the one that is most respected by the waves, and the one on which our interpretations have been mostly founded." "My Lord, I will give it you word for word," replied Harry Grant. "LE 27 JUIN, 1862, _le trois-mats Britannia, de Glasgow, s'est perdu a quinze cents lieues de la Patagonie, dans l'hemisphere austral. Partes a terre, deux matelots et le Capitaine Grant ont atteint l'ile Tabor_--" "Oh!" exclaimed Paganel. "LA," continued Harry Grant, "_continuellement en proie a une cruelle indigence, ils ont jete ce document par_ 153 degrees _de longitude et_ 37 degrees 11' _de latitude. Venes a leur secours, ou ils sont perdus_." At the name of Tabor, Paganel had started up hastily, and now being unable to restrain himself longer, he called out: "How can it be Isle Tabor? Why, this is Maria Theresa!" "Undoubtedly, Monsieur Paganel," replied Harry Grant. "It is Maria Theresa on the English and German charts, but is named Tabor on the French ones!" At this moment a vigorous thump on Paganel's shoulder almost bent him double. Truth obliges us to say it was the Major that dealt the blow, though strangely contrary to his usual strict politeness. "Geographer!" said McNabbs, in a tone of the most supreme contempt. But Paganel had not even felt the Major's hand. What was that compared to the geographical blow which had stunned him? He had been gradually getting nearer the truth, however, as he learned from Captain Grant. He had almost entirely deciphered the indecipherable document. The names Patagonia, Australia, New Zealand, had appeared to him in turn with absolute certainty. CONTIN, at first CONTINENT, had gradually reached its true meaning, _continuelle. Indi_ had successively signified _indiens, indigenes_, and at last the right word was found--INDIGENCE. But one mutilated word,