CHAPTER X.THE RAPID.[edit]
During their sojourn by the kraal, Colonel Everest and
Matthew Strux had been absolutely strangers. On the
eve of their departure for their divided labours, they had
ceremoniously taken leave one of the other, and had not
since met.
The caravan continued its northward route,
and the weather being favourable, during the next ten
days two fresh triangles were measured. The vast verdant
wilderness was intersected by streams flowing between rows
of the willow-like “karree-hout,” from which the Bochjesmen
make their bows. Large tracts of desert land occurred,
where every trace of moisture disappeared, leaving the soil
utterly bare but for the cropping-up occasionally of those
mucilaginous plants which no aridity can kill. For miles
there was no natural object that could be used for a station,
and consequently the astronomers were obliged to employ
natural objects for their point of sight.[1]
This caused considerable
loss of time, but was not attended with much real
difficulty. The crew of the “Queen and Czar” were employed
in this part of the work, and performed their task
well and rapidly; but the same jealousy that divided their
chiefs crept in sometimes among the seamen. Zorn and
Emery did all they could to neutralize any unpleasantness,
but the discussions sometimes took a serious character.
The Colonel and Strux continually interfered in behalf of
their countrymen, whether they were right or wrong, but
they only succeeded in making matters worse. After a
while Zorn and Emery were the only members of the party
who had preserved a perfect concord. Even Sir John
Murray and Nicholas Palander (generally absorbed as they
were, the one in his calculations, the other in his hunting),
began to join the fray.
One day the dispute went so far that Strux said to the
Colonel, “You must please to moderate your tone with
astronomers from Poulkowa: remember it was their telescope
that showed that the disc of Uranus is circular.”
“Yes,” replied the Colonel; “but ours at Cambridge
enabled us to classify the nebula of Andromeda.”
The irritation was evident, and at times seemed to imperil
the fate of the triangulation. Hitherto the discussions had
had no injurious effect, but perhaps rather served to keep
every operation more scrupulously exact.
On the 30th the weather suddenly changed. In any
other region a storm and torrents of rain might have been
expected: angry-looking clouds covered the sky, and
lightning, unaccompanied by thunder, gleamed through the
mass of vapour. But condensation did not ensue—not a
drop of rain fell on to the thirsty soil. The sky remained
overcast for some days, and the fog rendered the points of
sight invisible at the distance of a mile. The astronomers,
however, would not lose time, and determined to set up
lighted signals and work at night. The bushman prudently
advised caution, lest the electric lights should attract the
wild beasts too closely to their quarters; and in fact, during
the night, the yelp of the jackal and the hoarse laugh of
the hyena, like that of a drunken negro, could plainly be
heard.
In the midst of this clamour, in which the roar of a lion
could sometimes be distinguished, the astronomers felt rather
distracted, and the measurements were taken at least less
rapidly, if not less accurately. To take zenith distances while
gleaming eyes might be gazing at them through the darkness,
required imperturbable composure and the utmost sang-froid.
But these qualities were not wanting in the members
of the Commission, and after a few days they regained their
presence of mind, and worked away in the midst of the
beasts as calmly as if they were in their own observatories.
Armed hunters attended them at every station, and no
inconsiderable number of hyenas fell by their balls. Sir
Joha thought this way of surveying delightful, and whilst
his eye was at his telescope his hand was on his gun, and
more than once he made a shot in the interval between two
observations.
Nothing occurred to check the steady progress of the
survey, so that the astronomers hoped before the end of
June to measure a second degree of the meridian.
On the
17th they found that their path was crossed by an affluent
of the Kuruman. The Europeans could easily take their
instruments across in their india-rubber canoe; but Mokoum
would have to take the caravan to a ford which he remembered
some miles below. The river was about half-a-mile
wide, and its rapid current, broken here and there by rocks
and stems of trees embedded in the mud, offered considerable
danger to any light craft. Matthew Strux did not fail
to represent this, but finding that his companions did not
recoil from the attempt he gave way.
Nicholas Palander alone was to accompany the caravan
in its détour. He was too much absorbed in his calculations
to give any thought to danger; but his presence was not
indispensable to his companions, and the boat would only
hold a limited number of passengers. Accordingly, he
gave up his place to an Englishman of the crew of the
“Queen and Czar,” who would be more useful under the
circumstances.
After making an arrangement to meet to the north of the
rapid, the caravan disappeared down the left bank of the
stream, leaving Colonel Everest, Strux, Emery, Zorn, Sir
John, two sailors, and a Bochjesman, who was the pioneer
of the caravan, and had been recommended by Mokoum as
having much experience in African rapids.
“A pretty river,” observed Zorn to his friend, as the
sailors were preparing the boat.
“Very so, but hard to cross,” answered Emery. “These
rapids have not long to live, and therefore enjoy life. With
a few weeks of this dry season there will hardly remain
enough of this swollen torrent to water a caravan. It is
soon exhausted; such is the law of nature, moral and
physical. But we must not waste time in moralizing. See,
the boat is equipped, and I am all anxiety to see her performances.”
In a few minutes the boat was launched beside a sloping
bank of red granite. Here, sheltered by a projecting rock,
the water quietly bathed the reeds and creepers. The
instruments and provisions were put in the boat, and the
passengers seated themselves so as not to interfere with the
action of the oars. The Bochjesman took the helm; he
spoke but a few words of English, and advised the travellers
to keep a profound silence while they were crossing. The
boat soon felt the influence of the current. The sailors
carefully obeyed every order of the Bochjesman. Sometimes
they had to raise their oars to avoid some half-emerged
stump; sometimes to row hard across a whirlpool.
When the current became too strong they could only guide
the light boat as it drifted with the stream. The native,
tiller in hand, sat watchful and motionless, prepared for
every danger. The Europeans were half uneasy at their
novel situation; they seemed carried away by an irresistible
force. The Colonel and Strux gazed at each other without
a word; Sir John, with his rifle between his knees, watched
the numerous birds that skimmed the water; and the two
younger astronomers gazed with admiration at the banks,
past which they flew with dizzy speed. The light boat soon
reached the true rapid, which it was necessary to cross
obliquely. At a word from the Bochjesman, the sailors
put forth their strength; but, despite all their efforts, they
were carried down parallel to the banks. The tiller and
oars had no longer any effect, and the situation became
really perilous; a rock or stump of a tree would inevitably
have overturned the boat.
In spite of the manifest peril,
no one uttered a word.
The Bochjesman half rose, and
watched the direction which he could not control. Two
hundred yards distant rose an islet of stones and trees,
which it was impossible to avoid. In a few seconds the
boat apparently must be lost; but the shock came with less
violence than had seemed inevitable.
The boat lurched
and shipped a little water, but the passengers kept their
places. They were astonished to observe that what they
had presumed to be rock had moved, and was plunging
about in the rush of the waters.
It was an immense hippopotamus,
ten feet long, which had been carried by the
current against the islet, and dared not venture out again
into the rapid. Feeling the shock, he raised and shook his
head, looking about him with his little dull eyes, and with
his mouth wide open, showing his great canine teeth. He
rushed furiously on the boat, which he threatened to bite to
pieces.
But Sir John Murray's presence of mind did not forsake
him. Quietly shouldering his rifle, he fired at the animal
near the ear. The hippopotamus did not quit his hold, but
shook the boat as a dog would a hare. A second shot was
soon lodged in his head. The blow was mortal. After
pushing the boat with a last effort off the islet, the fleshy
mass sank in the deep water.
Before the dismayed voyagers
could collect their thoughts, they were whirled obliquely
into the rapid. A hundred yards below, a sharp bend in the
river broke the current; thither was the boat carried, and
was arrested by a violent shock. Safe and sound the whole
party leapt to the bank. They were about two miles below
the spot where they had embarked.
1^ There's a problem with the translation here.
Verne's statement was,
Mais, pendant des milles entiers, cette région ne présentait aucune
extumescence qui pût être choisie pour station naturelle.
Il fallait alors élever soit des poteaux indicateurs, soit des
pylônes hauts de dix à douze mètres, qui pussent servir de mire.
De là, une perte de temps plus ou moins considérable, qui retardait
la marche de la triangulation.
L'observation faite, il fallait alors démonter le pylône et le reporter
à quelques milles de là afin d'y former le sommet d'un nouveau triangle.
which roughly translates as
But, for many miles, this region did not present any extumescence which
could be chosen for a natural station.
It was then necessary to raise either indicator posts or pylons
to a height of ten to twelve metres, which could serve as a target.
This was a considerable loss of time, which delayed the progress
of the triangulation.
The observation made, it was then necessary to dismantle the pylon and
to move it some miles in order to form the top of a new triangle.
Note how the translator compresses sentences, and in this case ended
up with a self-contradictory sentence.
