Chapter XXXIV. Preparation for the Journey

Glenarvan never lost much time between adopting an idea and carrying it out. He gave immediate orders to make arrangements for the journey with as little delay as possible. The time of starting was fixed for the 22nd of December.

The presence of Harry Grant had become an indisputable fact, and the chances of finding him had increased. Besides, if Ayrton consented to join them and act as their guide through the forests of the province of Victoria and right to the eastern coast, they would have a fresh chance of success. Glenarvan asked his host whether he would have any great objection to that. Paddy O’Moore consented, though he would regret the loss of his excellent servant.

“Well, then, Ayrton, will you come with us in our search expedition?”

Ayrton did not reply immediately. He even showed signs of hesitation; but at last, said: “Yes, my Lord, I will go with you, and if I can not take you to Captain Grant, I can at least take you to the very place where his ship struck.”

“Thanks, Ayrton.”

“One question, my Lord.”

“Well?”

“Where will you meet the Duncan again?”

“At Melbourne, unless we traverse the whole continent from coast to coast.”

“But the captain?”

“The captain will await my instructions in the port of Melbourne.”

“You may depend on me then, my Lord.”

“I will, Ayrton.”

The whole party then returned to the ship, after ordering Ayrton to procure the necessary means of conveyance across the country.

Next day, John Mangles and the ship’s carpenter, accompanied by sailors carrying provisions, went back to Paddy O’Moore’s house to consult the Irishman about the best method of transport. All the family met him, ready to give their best help.

He and Paddy agreed that the journey should be made in a bullock-wagon by the ladies, and that the gentlemen should ride on horseback. Paddy could furnish both bullocks and vehicle. The vehicle was a cart twenty feet long, covered over by a tilt, and resting on four large wheels without spokes or felloes, or iron tires—in a word, plain wooden discs. There was a pole in front thirty-five feet long, to which the bullocks were to be yoked in couples. These animals were able to draw both with head and neck. It required great skill to drive such a long, narrow, shaky concern, and the role of conductor was assigned to Ayrton.

For the rest of the party, the preparations were soon made, for they needed much less. Strong horses were provided for Lord Glenarvan, Paganel, Robert Grant, McNabbs, and John Mangles; also for the two sailors, Wilson and Mulrady, who were to accompany their captain. Ayrton’s place was, of course, to be in front of the wagon, and Mr. Olbinett was to make room for himself among the baggage.

John Mangles escorted the Irishman and his family back to the vessel, for Paddy wished to return the visit of Lord Glenarvan. Ayrton thought proper to go too, and about four o’clock the party came over the side of the Duncan.

They were received with open arms. Glenarvan invited his visitors to stop and dine. His hospitality was willingly accepted. Paddy was quite amazed at the splendor of the saloon, and was loud in admiration of the fitting up of the cabins, and the carpets and hangings.

When Ayrton examined the yacht with a sailor’s eye, the quartermaster of the Britannia was as enthusiastic about it as Paddy. He went down into the hold, inspected the screw department and the engine-room, examining the engine thoroughly, and inquired about its power and consumption. He explored the coal-bunkers, the store-room, the powder-store, and armory, in which last he seemed to be particularly attracted by a cannon mounted on the forecastle. Glenarvan saw he had to do with a man who understood such matters, as was evident from his questions. Ayrton concluded his investigations by a survey of the masts and rigging.

“You have a fine vessel, my Lord,” he said after his curiosity was satisfied.

“A good one, and that is best,” replied Glenarvan.

“And what is its tonnage?”

“Two hundred and ten tons.”

“The Duncan,” said Mangles. “is a regular racing yacht, and would never let itself be beaten.”

“Even at sailing?” asked Ayrton.

“Even at sailing.”

“Well, my Lord, and you too, captain,” returned Ayrton, “allow a sailor who knows what a ship is worth, to compliment you on yours.”

Just then Mr. Olbinett came to announce dinner, and his Lordship went with his guests to the saloon.

“That Ayrton is an intelligent man,” said Paganel to the Major.

“Too intelligent!” muttered McNabbs, who had taken a great dislike to the face and manners of the quartermaster.

When evening came, Scotch and Irish separated. Ayrton and Paddy O’Moore and family returned home. Horses and wagons were to be ready the next day, and eight o’clock in the morning was fixed for starting.

The signal was given to start, and Lady Helena and Mary took their places in the reserved compartment. Ayrton seated himself in front, and Olbinett scrambled in among the luggage. The rest of the party, well armed with carbines and revolvers, mounted their horses. Ayrton gave a peculiar cry, and his team set off.

Chapter XXXV. A Country of Paradoxes

It was the 23d of December, 1864, a dull, damp, dreary month in the northern hemisphere; but on the Australian continent it might’ve as well been called June.

It was scarcely sixty-two miles from Cape Bernouilli to the frontiers of Victoria. The march across Adelaide presented nothing of any particular interest. A succession of low hills rich in dust, a long stretch of what they call in Australia “bush,” several prairies covered with a small prickly bush, embraced many miles. Here and there they noticed sheep with pig’s heads, feeding between the posts of the telegraph line recently made between Adelaide and the coast.

Up to this time there had been a singular resemblance in the country to the monotonous plains of the Argentine Pampas. There was the same grassy flat soil, the same sharply-defined horizon against the sky. McNabbs declared they had never changed countries; but Paganel told him to wait, and he would soon see a difference.

After a march of sixty miles in two days, the caravan reached the first town in the Province of Victoria. The wagon was put up at the Crown Inn. Supper was soon smoking on the table. It consisted solely of mutton served up in various ways.

They all ate heartily, but talked more than they ate, asking Paganel questions about the wonders of the country they were just beginning to traverse. The geographer told them first that this part of it was called Australia Felix.

“Wrongly named!” he continued. “It had better have been called rich, for it is true that riches do not make happiness. Thanks to her gold mines, Australia has been abandoned to wild devastating adventurers. Well, I say and say again, and will always maintain that this is the most curious country on the earth. Its formation, and nature, and products, and climate, and even its future disappearance have amazed, and are now amazing, and will amaze, all the scientists in the world. Think, my friends, of a continent, where humidity does not exist either in the air or in the soil; where the trees lose their bark every year, instead of their leaves; where the leaves present their sides to the sun and not their face, and consequently give no shade; where the wood is often incombustible, where good-sized stones are dissolved by the rain; where the forests are low and the grasses gigantic; where the animals are strange; where quadrupeds have beaks, like the echidna, and naturalists have been obliged to create a special order for them; where the kangaroos leap on unequal legs, and sheep have pigs’ heads; where foxes fly about from tree to tree; where the swans are black; where rats make nests; where the birds astonish the imagination by the variety of their notes and their aptness; where one bird laughs when the sun rises, and another cries when the sun sets! Oh, strange, illogical country, land of paradoxes and anomalies, if ever there was one on earth!”

“And is that all, Paganel?” asked the Major.

“No, indeed not,” rejoined the Frenchman.

“What!” exclaimed Lady Helena; “there are more wonders still in Australia?”

“Yes, Madam, its climate. I am not speaking of the qualities of the climate, rich as it is in oxygen and poor in azote. It is a moral regeneration. Here metals do not get rust on them by exposure to the air, nor men. Here the pure, dry atmosphere whitens everything rapidly, both linen and souls. The virtue of the climate must have been well known in England when they determined to send their criminals here to be reformed.”

Chapter XXXVI. An Accident

The next day, the 24th of December, they started at daybreak. The heat was already considerable, but not unbearable, and the road was smooth and good, and allowed the cavalcade to make speedy progress. In the evening they camped on the banks of the White Lake, the waters of which are brackish and undrinkable.

Robert come across an animal, and bravely killed it. It was a shapeless creature, half porcupine, half ant-eater. A long glutinous extensible tongue hung out of his jaws in search of the ants, which formed its principal food.

“It is an echidna,” said Paganel. “Have you ever seen such a creature?”

“It is horrible,” replied Glenarvan.

“Horrible enough, but curious, and, what’s more, peculiar to Australia. One might search for it in vain in any other part of the world.”

The geographer wished to preserve this interesting specimen, and wanted to stow it away in the luggage; but Mr. Olbinett resented the idea so indignantly, that the scientist was obliged to abandon his project.

The next day, the wagon stopped on a grassy bank. There was neither raft nor bridge, but they had to cross over. Ayrton looked about for a practicable ford. About a quarter of a mile up the water seemed shallower, and it was here they determined to try to pass over. The soundings in different parts showed a depth of three feet only, so that the wagon might safely enough venture.

“I suppose there is no other way of fording the river?” said Glenarvan to the quartermaster.

“No, my Lord; but the passage does not seem dangerous. We shall manage it.”

“Shall Lady Glenarvan and Miss Grant get out of the wagon?”

“Not at all. My bullocks are surefooted, and you may rely on me for keeping them straight.”

“Very well, Ayrton; I can trust you.”

The horsemen surrounded the ponderous vehicle, and all stepped boldly into the current. Ayrton directed the team. The Major and the two sailors were some feet in advance. Glenarvan and John Mangles went at the sides of the wagon, ready to lend any assistance the fair travelers might require, and Paganel and Robert brought up the rear.

All went well till they reached the middle of the river, but then the hollow deepened, and the water rose to the middle of the wheels. The bullocks were in danger of losing their footing, and dragging with them the oscillating vehicle. Ayrton jumped into the water, and hanging on by the bullocks’ horns, dragged them back into the right course.

Suddenly the wagon made a jolt that it was impossible to prevent; a crack was heard, and the vehicle began to lean over. The water now rose to the ladies’ feet; the whole concern began to float, though John Mangles and Lord Glenarvan hung on to the side. It was an anxious moment.

Fortunately a vigorous effort drove the wagon toward the opposite shore, the horses and bullocks were able to regain their footing, and soon the whole party found themselves on the other side, glad enough, though wet enough too.

The fore part of the wagon, however, was broken by the jolt, and Glenarvan’s horse had lost a shoe.

This was an accident that needed to be promptly repaired. They looked at each other hardly knowing what to do, till Ayrton proposed he should go to Black Point Station, twenty miles further north, and bring back a blacksmith with him.

“Yes, go, my good fellow,” said Glenarvan. “How long will it take you to get there and back?”

“About fifteen hours,” replied Ayrton, “but not longer.”

“Start at once, then, and we will camp here, on the banks, till you return.”