IT was a frightful night. At two A. M. the rain began to fall in torrents from the stormy clouds, and continued till daybreak. The tent became an insufficient shelter. Glenarvan and his companions took refuge in the wagon; they did not sleep, but talked of one thing and another. The Major alone, whose brief absence had not been noticed, contented himself with being a silent listener. There was reason to fear that if the storm lasted longer the Snowy River would overflow its banks, which would be a very unlucky thing for the wagon, stuck fast as it was already in the soft ground. Mulrady, Ayrton and Mangles went several times to ascertain the height of the water, and came back dripping from head to foot.
At last day appeared; the rain ceased, but sunlight could not break through the thick clouds. Large patches of yellowish water — muddy, dirty ponds indeed they were — covered the ground. A hot steam rose from the soaking earth, and saturated the atmosphere with unhealthy humidity.
Glenarvan’s first concern was the wagon; this was the main thing in his eyes. They examined the ponderous vehicle, and found it sunk in the mud in a deep hollow in the stiff clay. The forepart had disappeared completely, and the hind part up to the axle. It would be a hard job to get the heavy conveyance out, and would need the united strength of men, bullocks, and horses.
“At any rate, we must make haste,” said John Mangles. “If the clay dries, it will make our task still more difficult.”
“Let us be quick, then,” replied Ayrton.
Glenarvan, his two sailors, John Mangles, and Ayrton went off at once into the wood, where the animals had passed the night. It was a gloomy-looking forest of tall gum-trees; nothing but dead trees, with wide spaces between, which had been barked for ages, or rather skinned like the cork-oak at harvest time. A miserable network of bare branches was seen above two hundred feet high in the air. Not a bird built its nest in these aerial skeletons; not a leaf trembled on the dry branches, which rattled together like bones. To what cataclysm is this phenomenon to be attributed, so frequent in Australia, entire forests struck dead by some epidemic; no one knows; neither the oldest natives, nor their ancestors who have lain long buried in the groves of the dead, have ever seen them green.
Glenarvan as he went along kept his eye fixed on the gray sky, on which the smallest branch of the gum-trees was sharply defined. Ayrton was astonished not to discover the horses and bullocks where he had left them the preceding night. They could not have wandered far with the hobbles on their legs.
They looked over the wood, but saw no signs of them, and Ayrton returned to the banks of the river, where magnificent mimosas were growing. He gave a cry well known to his team, but there was no reply. The quartermaster seemed uneasy, and his companions looked at him with disappointed faces. An hour had passed in vain endeavors, and Glenarvan was about to go back to the wagon, when a neigh struck on his ear, and immediately after a bellow.
“They are there!” cried John Mangles, slipping between the tall branches of gastrolobium, which grew high enough to hide a whole flock. Glenarvan, Mulrady, and Ayrton darted after him, and speedily shared his stupefaction at the spectacle which met their gaze.
Two bullocks and three horses lay stretched on the ground, struck down like the rest. Their bodies were already cold, and a flock of half-starved looking ravens croaking among the mimosas were watching the unexpected prey. Glenarvan and his party gazed at each other and Wilson could not keep back the oath that rose to his lips.
“What do you mean, Wilson?” said Glenarvan, with difficulty controlling himself. “Ayrton, bring away the bullock and the horse we have left; they will have to serve us now.”
“If the wagon were not sunk in the mud,” said John Mangles, “these two animals, by making short journeys, would be able to take us to the coast; so we must get the vehicle out, cost what it may.”
“We will try, John,” replied Glenarvan. “Let us go back now, or they will be uneasy at our long absence.”
Ayrton removed the hobbles from the bullock and Mulrady from the horse, and they began to return to the encampment, following the winding margin of the river. In half an hour they rejoined Paganel, and McNabbs, and the ladies, and told them of this fresh disaster.
“Upon my honor, Ayrton,” the Major could not help saying, “it is a pity that you hadn’t had the shoeing of all our beasts when we forded the Wimerra.”
“Why, sir?” asked Ayrton.
“Because out of all our horses only the one your blacksmith had in his hands has escaped the common fate.”
“That’s true,” said John Mangles. “It’s strange it happens so.”
“A mere chance, and nothing more,” replied the quartermaster, looking firmly at the Major.
Major McNabbs bit his lips as if to keep back something
V. IV Verne he was about to say. Glenarvan and the rest waited for him to speak out his thoughts, but the Major was silent, and went up to the wagon, which Ayrton was examining.
“What was he going to say. Mangles?” asked Glenarvan.
“I don’t know,” replied the young captain; “but the Major is not at all a man to speak without reason.”
“No, John,” said Lady Helena. “McNabbs must have suspicions about Ayrton.”
“Suspicions!” exclaimed Paganel, shrugging his shoulders.
“And what can they be?” asked Glenarvan. “Does he suppose him capable of having killed our horses and bullocks? And for what purpose? Is not Ayrton’s interest identical with our own?”
“You are right, dear Edward,” said Lady Helena! “and what is more, the quartermaster has given us incontestable proofs of his devotion ever since the commencement of the journey.”
“Certainly he has,” replied Mangles; “but still, what could the Major mean? I wish he would speak his mind plainly out.”
“Does he suppose him acting in concert with the convicts?” asked Paganel, imprudently.
“What convicts?” said Miss Grant.
“Monsieur Paganel is making a mistake,” replied John Mangles, instantly. “He knows very well there are no convicts in the province of Victoria.”
“Ah, that is true,” returned Paganel, trying to get out of his unlucky speech. “Whatever had I got in my head? Convicts! who ever heard of convicts being in Australia? Besides, they would scarcely have disembarked before they would turn into good, honest men. The climate, you know, Miss Mary, the regenerative climate —”
Here the poor SAVANT stuck fast, unable to get further, like the wagon in the mud. Lady Helena looked at him in surprise, which quite deprived him of his remaining sang-froid; but seeing his embarrassment, she took Mary away to the side of the tent, where M. Olbinett was laying out an elaborate breakfast.
“I deserve to be transported myself,” said Paganel, woefully.
“I think so,” said Glenarvan.
And after this grave reply, which completely overwhelmed the worthy geographer, Glenarvan and John Mangles went toward the wagon.
They found Ayrton and the two sailors doing their best to get it out of the deep ruts, and the bullock and horse, yoked together, were straining every muscle. Wilson and Mulrady were pushing the wheels, and the quartermaster urging on the team with voice and goad; but the heavy vehicle did not stir, the clay, already dry, held it as firmly as if sealed by some hydraulic cement.
John Mangles had the clay watered to loosen it, but it was of no use. After renewed vigorous efforts, men and animals stopped. Unless the vehicle was taken to pieces, it would be impossible to extricate it from the mud; but they had no tools for the purpose, and could not attempt such a task.
However, Ayrton, who was for conquering this obstacle at all costs, was about to commence afresh, when Glenarvan stopped him by saying: “Enough, Ayrton, enough. We must husband the strength of our remaining horse and bullock. If we are obliged to continue our journey on foot, the one animal can carry the ladies and the other the provisions. They may thus still be of great service to us.”
“Very well, my Lord,” replied the quartermaster, un-yoking the exhausted beasts.
“Now, friends,” added Glenarvan, “let us return to the encampment and deliberately examine our situation, and determine on our course of action.”
After a tolerably good breakfast to make up for their bad night, the discussion was opened, and every one of the party was asked to give his opinion. The first point was to ascertain their exact position, and this was referred to Paganel, who informed them, with his customary rigorous accuracy, that the expedition had been stopped on the 37th parallel, in longitude 147 degrees 53 minutes, on the banks of the Snowy River.
“What is the exact longitude of Twofold Bay?” asked Glenarvan.
“One hundred and fifty degrees,” replied Paganel; “two degrees seven minutes distant from this, and that is equal to seventy-five miles.”
“And Melbourne is?”
“Two hundred miles off at least.”
“Very good. Our position being then settled, what is best to do?”
The response was unanimous to get to the coast without delay. Lady Helena and Mary Grant undertook to go five miles a day. The courageous la............