VERNANIA: The Celebrated Works of Jules Verne in One Edition. Жюль Верн
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in this stupor he knew not, but he was suddenly aroused from it by a strange, unexpected crackling sound.
He rubbed his eyes and sprang to his feet. An intense glare half-blinded him and heated his cheek—the forest was in flames!
“Fire! fire!” he shouted, scarcely comprehending what had happened.
His two companions started up in alarm.
“What’s the matter?” was the doctor’s immediate exclamation.
“Fire!” said Joe. “But who could—”
At this moment loud yells were heard under the foliage, which was now illuminated as brightly as the day.
“Ah! the savages!” cried Joe again; “they have set fire to the forest so as to be the more certain of burning us up.”
“The Talabas! Al-Hadji’s marabouts, no doubt,” said the doctor.
A circle of fire hemmed the Victoria in; the crackling of the dry wood mingled with the hissing and sputtering of the green branches; the clambering vines, the foliage, all the living part of this vegetation, writhed in the destructive element. The eye took in nothing but one vast ocean of flame; the large trees stood forth in black relief in this huge furnace, their branches covered with glowing coals, while the whole blazing mass, the entire conflagration, was reflected on the clouds, and the travellers could fancy themselves enveloped in a hollow globe of fire.
“Let us escape to the ground!” shouted Kennedy, “it is our only chance of safety!”
But Ferguson checked him with a firm grasp, and, dashing at the anchor-rope, severed it with one well-directed blow of his hatchet. Meanwhile, the flames, leaping up at the balloon, already quivered on its illuminated sides; but the Victoria, released from her fastenings, spun upward a thousand feet into the air.
Frightful yells resounded through the forest, along with the report of firearms, while the balloon, caught in a current of air that rose with the dawn of day, was borne to the westward.
It was now four o’clock in the morning.
CHAPTER FORTY-THIRD.
The Talabas.—The Pursuit.—A Devastated Country.—The Wind begins to fall.—The Victoria sinks.—The last of the Provisions.—The Leaps of the Balloon.—A Defence with Firearms.—The Wind freshens.—The Senegal River.—The Cataracts of Gouina.—The Hot Air.—The Passage of the River.
“Had we not taken the precaution to lighten the balloon yesterday evening, we should have been lost beyond redemption,” said the doctor, after a long silence.
“See what’s gained by doing things at the right time!” replied Joe. “One gets out of scrapes then, and nothing is more natural.”
“We are not out of danger yet,” said the doctor.
“What do you still apprehend?” queried Kennedy. “The balloon can’t descend without your permission, and even were it to do so—”
“Were it to do so, Dick? Look!”
They had just passed the borders of the forest, and the three friends could see some thirty mounted men clad in broad pantaloons and the floating bournouses. They were armed, some with lances, and others with long muskets, and they were following, on their quick, fiery little steeds, the direction of the balloon, which was moving at only moderate speed.
When they caught sight of the aeronauts, they uttered savage cries, and brandished their weapons. Anger and menace could be read upon their swarthy faces, made more ferocious by thin but bristling beards. Meanwhile they galloped along without difficulty over the low levels and gentle declivities that lead down to the Senegal.
“It is, indeed, they!” said the doctor; “the cruel Talabas! the ferocious marabouts of Al-Hadji! I would rather find myself in the middle of the forest encircled by wild beasts than fall into the hands of these banditti.”
“They haven’t a very obliging look!” assented Kennedy; “and they are rough, stalwart fellows.”
“Happily those brutes can’t fly,” remarked Joe; “and that’s something.”
“See,” said Ferguson, “those villages in ruins, those huts burned down—that is their work! Where vast stretches of cultivated land were once seen, they have brought barrenness and devastation.”
“At all events, however,” interposed Kennedy, “they can’t overtake us; and, if we succeed in putting the river between us and them, we are safe.”
“Perfectly, Dick,” replied Ferguson; “but we must not fall to the ground!” and, as he said this, he glanced at the barometer.
“In any case, Joe,” added Kennedy, “it would do us no harm to look to our firearms.”
“No harm in the world, Mr. Dick! We are lucky that we didn’t scatter them along the road.”
“My rifle!” said the sportsman. “I hope that I shall never be separated from it!”
And so saying, Kennedy loaded the pet piece with the greatest care, for he had plenty of powder and ball remaining.
“At what height are we?” he asked the doctor.
“About seven hundred and fifty feet; but we no longer have the power of seeking favorable currents, either going up or coming down. We are at the mercy of the balloon!”
“That is vexatious!” rejoined Kennedy. “The wind is poor; but if we had come across a hurricane like some of those we met before, these vile brigands would have been out of sight long ago.”
“The rascals follow us at their leisure,” said Joe. “They’re only at a short gallop. Quite a nice little ride!”
“If we were within range,” sighed the sportsman, “I should amuse myself with dismounting a few of them.”
“Exactly,” said the doctor; “but then they would have you within range also, and our balloon would offer only too plain a target to the bullets from their long guns; and, if they were to make a hole in it, I leave you to judge what our situation would be!”
The pursuit of the Talabas continued all morning; and by eleven o’clock the aeronauts had made scarcely fifteen miles to the westward.
The doctor was anxiously watching for the least cloud on the horizon. He feared, above all things, a change in the atmosphere. Should he be thrown back toward the Niger, what would become of him? Besides, he remarked that the balloon tended to fall considerably. Since the start, he had already lost more than three hundred feet, and the Senegal must be about a dozen miles distant. At his present rate of speed, he could count upon travelling only three hours longer.
At this moment his attention was attracted by fresh cries. The Talabas appeared to be much excited, and were spurring their horses.
The doctor consulted his barometer, and at once discovered the cause of these symptoms.
“Are we descending?” asked Kennedy.
“Yes!” replied the doctor.
“The mischief!” thought Joe
In the lapse of fifteen minutes the Victoria was only one hundred and fifty feet above the ground; but the wind was much stronger than before.
The Talabas checked their horses, and soon a volley of musketry pealed out on the air.
“Too far, you fools!” bawled Joe. “I think it would be well to keep those scamps at a distance.”
And, as he spoke, he aimed at one of the horsemen who was farthest to the front, and fired. The Talaba fell headlong,