CHAPTER XV.A GEOMETRIC PROGRESSION.[edit]
After the separation the English astronomers continued
their labours with the same care and precision as hitherto.
Three had now to do the work of six, and consequently
the survey advanced more slowly, and was attended with
more fatigue; but they were not the men to spare themselves;
the desire that the Russians should not surpass
them in any way sustained them in their task, to which
they gave all their time and thoughts. Emery had to
indulge in fewer reveries, and Sir John could not so often
spare his time for hunting. A new programme was drawn
up, assigning to each astronomer his proper share of the
labour. Sir John and the Colonel undertook all observations
both in the sky and in the field; while Emery
replaced Palander as calculator. All questions were
decided in common, and there was no longer any fear
that disagreement should arise. Mokoum was still the
guide and hunter to the caravan. The English sailors,
who formed half the crew of the “Queen and Czar,” had,
of course, followed their countrymen; and although the
Russians were in possession of the steam-vessel, the India-rubber
boat, which was large enough for ordinary purposes,
was the property of the English. The provision-waggons
were divided, thus impartially ensuring the revictualling of
each caravan. The natives likewise had to be severed into
two equal troops, not without some natural signs of displeasure
on their part; far from their own pasturages and
water-courses, in a region inhabited by wandering tribes
hostile to the tribes of the south, they could scarcely be
reconciled to the prospect of separation. But at length,
by the help of the bushman and the pioneer, who told
them that the two detachments would be comparatively
a short distance apart, they consented to the arrangement.
On leaving Kolobeng the English caravan re-entered
the burnt forest and arrived at the cromlech which had
served for their last station. Operations were resumed,
and a large triangle carried the observers at once ten or
twelve miles to the west of the old meridian.
Six days later the auxiliary series of triangles was
finished, and Colonel Everest and his colleagues, after
consulting the maps, chose the new arc one degree west of
the other, being 23° east of the meridian of Greenwich.
They were not more than sixty miles from the Russians,
but this distance put any collision between the two parties
out of the question, as it was improbable that their
triangles would cross.
All through September the weather was fine and clear.
The country was fertile and varied, but scantily populated.
The forests, which were few, being broken by wide, open
tracts, and with occasional mounds occurring in the prairies,
made the district extremely favourable for the observations.
The region was well provided with natural productions.
The sweet scent of many of the flowers attracted swarms
of scarabæi, and more especially a kind of bee as nearly
as possible like the European, depositing in clefts of rocks
and holes of trees a white liquid honey with a delicious
flavour. Occasionally at night large animals ventured near
the camp; there were giraffes, varieties of antelopes,
hyenas, rhinoceroses, and elephants. But Sir John would
not be distracted, he resolutely discarded his rifle for his
telescope.
Under these circumstances, Mokoum and some of the
natives became purveyors to the caravan, and Sir John had
some difficulty in restraining his excitement when he heard
the report of their guns. The bushman shot three prairie-buffaloes,
the Bokolokolos of the Bechuanas, formidable
animals, with glossy black skins, short strong legs, fierce
eyes, and small heads crowned with thick black horns.
They were a welcome addition to the fresh venison which
formed the ordinary fare.
The natives prepared the buffalo-meat as the Indians of
the north do their pemmican. The Europeans watched
their proceedings with interest, though at first with some
repugnance. The flesh, after being cut into thin slices and
dried in the sun, was wrapped in a tanned skin, and beaten
with flails till it was reduced to a powder. It was then
pressed tightly into leathern sacks, and moistened with
boiling tallowy suet collected from the animal itself. To
this they added some marrow and berries, whose saccharine
matter modified the nitrous elements of the meat. This
compound, after being mixed and beaten, formed, when
cold, a cake as hard as a stone. Mokoum, who considered
his pemmican a national delicacy, begged the astronomers
to taste the preparation. At first they found it extremely
unpalatable, but, becoming accustomed to the flavour, they
soon learnt to partake of it with great relish. Highly
nourishing, and not at all likely to be tainted, containing,
moreover, its nutritive elements closely compacted, this
pemmican was exactly suited to meet the wants of a caravan
travelling in an unknown country. The bushman soon
had several hundred pounds in reserve, and they were thus
secure from any immediate want.
Days and nights passed away in observations. Emery
was always thinking of his friend, and deploring the fate
which had so suddenly severed the bond of their friendship.
He had no one to sympathize with his admiration
of the wild characteristics of the scenery, and, with something
of Palander's enthusiasm, found refuge in his calculations.
Colonel Everest was cold and calm as ever
exhibiting no interest in any thing beyond his professional
pursuits. As for Sir John, he suppressed his murmurs, but
sighed over the loss of his freedom. Fortune, however,
sometimes made amends; for although he had no leisure
for hunting, the wild beasts occasionally took the initiative,
and came near, interrupting his observations. He then
considered defence legitimate, and rejoiced to be able to
make the duties of the astronomer and of the hunter to be
compatible.
One day he had a serious rencontre with an old rhinoceros,
which cost him “rather dear.” For some time the
animal had been prowling about the flanks of the caravan.
By the blackness of his skin Mokoum had recognized the
“chucuroo” (such is the native for this animal) as a
dangerous beast, and one which, more agile than the white
species, often attacks man and beast without any provocation.
On this day Sir John and Mokoum had set off to
reconnoitre a hill six miles away, on which the Colonel
wished to establish an indicating-post. With a certain
foreboding. Sir John had brought his rifle with conical shot
instead of his ordinary gun; for although the rhinoceros
had not been seen for two days, yet he did not consider it
advisable to traverse unarmed an unknown country.
Mokoum and his companions had already unsuccessfully
chased the beast, which probably now had abandoned its
designs. There was no reason to regret the precaution.
The adventurers had reached the summit of the hill, when
at the base, close to a thicket, of no large extent, appeared
the chucuroo. He was a formidable animal; his small
eyes sparkled, and his horns, planted firmly one over the
other on his bony nose, furnished a most powerful weapon
of attack.
The bushman caught sight of him first, as he crouched
about half a mile distant in a grove of lentisk.
“Sir John,” he cried, “fortune favours you: here is your
chucuroo!”
“The rhinoceros!” exclaimed Sir John, with kindling
eyes, for he had never before been so near the animal.
“Yes; a magnificent beast, and he seems inclined to cut
off our retreat,” said the bushman. “Why he should
attack us, I can hardly say; his tribe is not carnivorous:
but any way, there he is, and we must hunt him out.”
“Is it possible for him to get up here to us?” asked Sir
John.
“No; his legs are too short and thick, but he will wait.”
“Well, let him wait,” said Sir John; “and when we have
examined this station, we will try and get him out”
They then proceeded with their reconnoitring, and chose
a spot on which to erect the indicating-post. They also
noticed other eminences to the north-west which would be
of use in constructing a subsequent triangle.
Their work ended, Sir John turned to the bushman,
saying, “When you like, Mokoum.”
“I am at your orders, Sir John: the rhinoceros is still
waiting.”
“Well, let us go down, a ball from my rifle will soon
settle matters.”
“A ball!” cried Mokoum; “you don't know a rhinoceros.
He won't fall with one ball, however well it may be
aimed.”
“Nonsense!” began Sir John, “that is because people
don't use conical shot.”
“Conical or round,” rejoined the bushman, “the first will
not bring down such an animal as that.”
“Well,” said Sir John, carried away by his self-confidence,
“as you have your doubts, I will show you what our
European weapons can do.”
And he loaded his rifle, to be ready to take aim as soon
as he should be at a convenient distance.
“One moment, Sir John,” said the bushman, rather
piqued, “will you bet with me?”
“Certainly,” said Sir John.
“I am only a poor man,” continued Mokoum, “but I
will willingly bet you half-a-crown against your first ball.”
“Done!” replied Sir John instantly. “Half-a-crown to
you if the rhinoceros doesn't fall to my first shot.”
The hunters descended the steep slope, and were soon
posted within range of the rhinoceros. The beast was
perfectly motionless, and on that account presented an
easy aim.
Sir John thought his chance so good, that at the last
moment he turned to Mokoum and said,—
“Do you keep to your bargain?”
“Yes,” replied the bushman.
The rhinoceros still being as motionless as a target, Sir
John could aim wherever he thought the blow would be
mortal. He chose the muzzle, and, his pride being roused,
he aimed with the utmost care, and fired. The ball failed
in reaching the flesh; it had merely shattered to fragments
the extremity of one of the horns. The animal did not
appear to experience the slightest shock.
“That counts nothing,” said the bushman, “you didn't
touch the flesh.”
“Yes, it counts,” replied Sir John, rather vexed; “I have
lost my wager. But come now, double or quits?”
“As you please, Sir John, but you will lose.”
“We shall see.”
The rifle was carefully re-loaded, and Sir John, taking
rather a random aim, fired a second time; but meeting the
horny skin of the haunch, the ball, notwithstanding its
force, fell to the ground. The rhinoceros moved a few
steps.
“A crown to me,” said Mokoum,
“Will you stake it again?” asked Sir John, “double or
quits.”
“By all means,” said Mokoum.
This time Sir John, who had begun to get angry, regained
his composure, and aimed at the animal's forehead.
The ball rebounded, as if it had struck a metal plate.
“Half-a-sovereign,” said the bushman calmly.
“Yes, and another,” cried Sir John, exasperated.
The shot penetrated the skin, and the rhinoceros made
a tremendous bound; but instead of falling, he rushed
furiously upon the bushes, which he tore and crushed
violently.
“I think he still moves,” said the bushman quietly.
Sir John was beside himself; his composure again
deserted him, and he risked the sovereign he owed the
bushman on a fifth ball. He continued to lose again and
again, but persisted in doubling the stake at every shot.
At length the animal, pierced to the heart, fell, impotent to
rise to its feet.
Sir John uttered a loud hurrah; he had killed his
rhinoceros. He had forgotten his disappointment, but he
did not forget his bets. It was startling to find that the
perpetually redoubled stakes had mounted at the ninth
shot to 32l.[1] Sir John congratulated himself on his escape
from such a debt of honour; but in his enthusiasm he presented
Mokoum with several gold pieces which the bushman
received with his usual equanimity.
1^ l is an alternative symbol for £ (British pound), not
to be confused with /- (shilling). Frewer has considerably rewritten
Verne's work in this bet sequence, starting with the wager of half-a-crown
(a crown is 5 shillings, or ¼ pound)
on the first shot, and doubling to 32l on the ninth shot, concluding by giving
Mokoum “several gold pieces”.
Verne's original begins with
Une livre, à vous, si ce rhinocéros ne tombe pas sous ma première balle!
(one pound, to you, if the rhinoceros is not killed by the first ball).
The sequence ends with the
neuvième coup de son rifle
(ninth shot of his rifle);
Ses paris, son désappointement, il oublia tout, pour ne se
souvenir que d'une chose: il avait tué son rhinocéros
(his bets, his
disappointment, he forgot all, to remember only one thing: he had killed
his rhinoceros) and
elle ne lui avait pas moins coûté de trente-six livres
(it had cost him not less than thirty-six pounds). This indicates that the
doubling of bets had rather broken down by the end, and there is no mention
of giving Mokoum “several gold pieces”.
