Treasure Hunt Tales: The Star of the South & Captain Antifer. Жюль Верн
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sight.
“It is an illusion!” he thought, when he had again brought his telescope to bear on the suspected spot, although he picked it up immediately.
In fact there was nothing so indistinct within the telescope’s field of view.
At this moment—a few minutes after six—the solar disk was just on the horizon, and “hissing at the touch of the sea,” if we believe what the Iberians used to say. At his setting, as at his rising, refraction still showed his position when he was below the horizon. The luminous rays obliquely projected on the surface of the waves extended as in a long diameter from west to east. The last ripples like rays of fire gleamed beneath the dying breeze. This light suddenly went out as the upper edge of the disk touched the line of water, and shot forth its green ray. The hull of the brigantine became dark while the upper canvas shone purple in the last of the light.
As the shades of twilight began to fall a voice was heard from the bows,—
“Ho, there!”
“What is the matter?” asked the captain.
“Land on the starboard bow!”
Land, and in the direction the captain had been watching the misty outline a few minutes before. He had not been mistaken then.
At the shout of the look-out the men on watch had rushed to the bulwarks and were looking away to the west. The captain, with his telescope slung behind him, grasped the main shrouds, and slowly mounted the ratlines to reach the crosstrees and there sit astride on them; with his glass at his eye he looked at the land in sight.
The look-out was not mistaken. Six or seven miles away was a small island, its lineaments standing out black against the sky. You would have said it was a reef of moderate height, crowned with a cloud of sulphurous vapour. Fifty years later a sailor would have said it was the smoke of a large steamer passing in the offing; but in 1831 no one imagined that the ocean would one day be ploughed by these monsters of navigation.
The captain had little time to look at it or think about it. The island was almost immediately hidden behind the evening mist. No matter, he had seen it, and seen it well. There was no doubt of that.
The captain descended to the poop, and the distinguished personage, whom this incident had awakened from his reverie, made a sign for him to approach.
“Well?”
“Yes, your Excellency.”
“Land in sight?”
“An islet at least.”
“At what distance?”
“About six miles to the westward.”
“And the chart shows nothing in that direction?”
“Nothing.”
“You are sure about that?”
“Sure.”
“It must be an unknown island, then?”
“I think so.”
“Is that possible?”
“Yes, your Excellency, if the islet be of recent formation.”
“Recent?”
“I am inclined to think so, for it appeared to me to be wrapped in vapour. In these parts the plutonic forces are often in action, and manifest themselves by submarine upheavals.”
“I hope what you say is true. I could not wish for anything better than that one of these masses should suddenly rise from the sea! It does not belong to anybody—”
“Or rather, your Excellency, it belongs to the first occupant.”
“That would be to me, then?”
“Yes, to you.”
“Steer straight for that island.”
“Straight, but carefully,” replied the captain. “Our brigantine would be in danger of being dashed to pieces if the reefs extend far out. I propose to wait for daylight, to make out the position, and then land on the islet.”
“Wait, then.
This was only acting like a seaman. It would never do to risk a ship in shoals that were unknown. In approaching an unknown coast, the night must be avoided and the lead used.
His Excellency went back to his cabin; if he slept at all the cabin-boy would have no occasion to call him at dawn; he would be on deck before sunrise.
The captain would not leave his post, but preferred to watch through the night, which slowly passed. The horizon became more and more obscure. Overhead the clouds became invisible as the diffused light left them. About one o’clock the breeze increased slightly. Only sufficient sail was set to keep the vessel under the control of her helm.
The firmament became lighted by the early constellations. In the north Polaris gazed gently with a motionless eye, while Arcturus shone brightly to continue the curve of the Great Bear. On the other side of the pole Cassiopeia traced her sparkling W. Below, Capella appeared where she had appeared the day before and would appear on the morrow, allowing for the four minutes of advance with which her sidereal day begins. On the surface of the sea reigned that inexplicable torpor due to the fall of the night.
The captain, resting on his elbow in the bow, never moved from the windlass against which he leant. Motionless, he thought only of the spot he could see through the gloom. He doubted still, and the darkness made the doubts more serious. Was he the sport of an illusion? Was this really a new islet risen from the sea? Yes, certainly. He knew these parts; he had been here a hundred times before. He had fixed his position within a mile, and eight or ten leagues were between him and the nearest land. But if he was not mistaken, if in this spot an island had risen from the sea, would it not be already taken possession of? Had not some navigator hoisted his flag on it? Was there no gleam of a fire indicating that the place was inhabited? It was possible that this mass of rocks had been here for some weeks; and how could it have escaped a sailor’s notice?
Hence the captain’s uneasiness and his impatience for the daylight. He saw nothing to indicate the islet’s position, not even the reflection of the vapours which seemed to envelop it, and which might have thrown a fuliginous hue on the darkness. Everywhere the air and the water were mingled in the same obscurity.
The hours rolled by. The circumpolar constellations had described a quarter circle around the axis of the firmament. About four o’clock the sky began to brighten in the east-north-east, and a few clouds came into view overhead. Two hours and more were still to run before the sun rose, but in such a light an experienced mariner could find the reported island, if it existed.
At this moment the distinguished personage came on deck and approached the captain.
“Well, this islet?” he asked.
“There it is, your Excellency,” replied the captain, pointing to a heap of rocks less than two miles away.
“Let us land there.”
“As you wish.”
CHAPTER II.
The reader will hardly be astonished at Mehemet Ali entering on the scene at the beginning of this chapter. Whatever may have been the importance of the illustrious Pasha in the history of the Levant, he must inevitably have appeared in this story on account of the unpleasant experiences the owner of the brigantine had had with the founder of modern Egypt.
At this epoch Mehemet Ali had not begun, with the army of his son Ibrahim, the conquest of Palestine and Syria, which belonged to Sultan Mahmoud, the sovereign of Turkey in Europe and Turkey in Asia. On the contrary,