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In Search of the Castaways
Book II - Australia   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER XIV - WEALTH IN THE WILDERNESS
Jules Verne
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       Book II - Australia; CHAPTER XIV - WEALTH IN THE WILDERNESS
       ON January 6, at 7 A. M., after a tranquil night passed in longitude
       146 degrees 15", the travelers continued their journey across
       the vast district. They directed their course steadily toward
       the rising sun, and made a straight line across the plain.
       Twice over they came upon the traces of squatters going toward
       the north, and their different footprints became confused,
       and Glenarvan's horse no longer left on the dust the Blackpoint mark,
       recognizable by its double shamrock.
       The plain was furrowed in some places by fantastic winding creeks
       surrounded by box, and whose waters were rather temporary than permanent.
       They originated in the slopes of the Buffalo Ranges, a chain of
       mountains of moderate height, the undulating line of which was visible
       on the horizon. It was resolved to camp there the same night.
       Ayrton goaded on his team, and after a journey of thirty-five miles,
       the bullocks arrived, somewhat fatigued. The tent was pitched beneath
       the great trees, and as night had drawn on supper was served as quickly
       as possible, for all the party cared more for sleeping than eating,
       after such a day's march.
       Paganel who had the first watch did not lie down, but shouldered
       his rifle and walked up and down before the camp, to keep himself
       from going to sleep. In spite of the absence of the moon, the night
       was almost luminous with the light of the southern constellations.
       The SAVANT amused himself with reading the great book of the firmament,
       a book which is always open, and full of interest to those who can
       read it. The profound silence of sleeping nature was only interrupted
       by the clanking of the hobbles on the horses' feet.
       Paganel was engrossed in his astronomical meditations, and thinking
       more about the celestial than the terrestrial world, when a distant
       sound aroused him from his reverie. He listened attentively,
       and to his great amaze, fancied he heard the sounds of a piano.
       He could not be mistaken, for he distinctly heard chords struck.
       "A piano in the wilds!" said Paganel to himself.
       "I can never believe it is that."
       It certainly was very surprising, but Paganel found it easier
       to believe it was some Australian bird imitating the sounds
       of a Pleyel or Erard, as others do the sounds of a clock or mill.
       But at this very moment, the notes of a clear ringing voice
       rose on the air. The PIANIST was accompanied by singing.
       Still Paganel was unwilling to be convinced. However, next minute
       he was forced to admit the fact, for there fell on his ear
       the sublime strains of Mozart's "Il mio tesoro tanto"
       from Don Juan.
       "Well, now," said the geographer to himself, "let the Australian
       birds be as queer as they may, and even granting the paroquets
       are the most musical in the world, they can't sing Mozart!"
       He listened to the sublime inspiration of the great master to the end.
       The effect of this soft melody on the still clear night
       was indescribable. Paganel remained as if spellbound for a time;
       the voice ceased and all was silence. When Wilson came to relieve
       the watch, he found the geographer plunged into a deep reverie.
       Paganel made no remark, however, to the sailor, but reserved
       his information for Glenarvan in the morning, and went into
       the tent to bed.
       Next day, they were all aroused from sleep by the sudden
       loud barking of dogs, Glenarvan got up forthwith.
       Two magnificent pointers, admirable specimens of English
       hunting dogs, were bounding in front of the little wood,
       into which they had retreated at the approach of the travelers,
       redoubling their clamor.
       "There is some station in this desert, then," said Glenarvan,
       "and hunters too, for these are regular setters."
       Paganel was just about to recount his nocturnal experiences,
       when two young men appeared, mounted on horses of the most
       perfect breed, true "hunters."
       The two gentlemen dressed in elegant hunting costume, stopped at
       the sight of the little group camping in gipsy fashion.
       They looked as if they wondered what could bring an armed
       party there, but when they saw the ladies get out of the wagon,
       they dismounted instantly, and went toward them hat in hand.
       Lord Glenarvan came to meet them, and, as a stranger,
       announced his name and rank.
       The gentlemen bowed, and the elder of them said, "My Lord,
       will not these ladies and yourself and friends honor us by resting
       a little beneath our roof?"
       "Mr.--," began Glenarvan.
       "Michael and Sandy Patterson are our names, proprietors of
       Hottam Station. Our house is scarcely a quarter of a mile distant."
       "Gentlemen," replied Glenarvan, "I should not like to abuse
       such kindly-offered hospitality."
       "My Lord," returned Michael Patterson, "by accepting it you
       will confer a favor on poor exiles, who will be only too happy
       to do the honors of the wilds."
       Glenarvan bowed in token of acquiescence.
       "Sir," said Paganel, addressing Michael Patterson, "if it is not
       an impudent question, may I ask whether it was you that sung an air
       from the divine Mozart last night?"
       "It was, sir," replied the stranger, "and my cousin Sandy accompanied me."
       "Well, sir," replied Paganel, holding out his hand to the young man,
       "receive the sincere compliments of a Frenchman, who is a passionate
       admirer of this music."
       Michael grasped his hand cordially, and then pointing out the road
       to take, set off, accompanied by the ladies and Lord Glenarvan
       and his friends, for the station. The horses and the camp were left
       to the care of Ayrton and the sailors.
       Hottam Station was truly a magnificent establishment, kept as
       scrupulously in order as an English park. Immense meadows,
       enclosed in gray fences, stretched away out of sight.
       In these, thousands of bullocks and millions of sheep were grazing,
       tended by numerous shepherds, and still more numerous dogs.
       The crack of the stock-whip mingled continually with
       the barking of the "collies" and the bellowing and bleating
       of the cattle and sheep.
       Toward the east there was a boundary of myalls and gum-trees, beyond
       which rose Mount Hottam, its imposing peak towering 7,500 feet high.
       Long avenues of green trees were visible on all sides. Here and there
       was a thick clump of "grass trees," tall bushes ten feet high,
       like the dwarf palm, quite lost in their crown of long narrow leaves.
       The air was balmy and odorous with the perfume of scented laurels,
       whose white blossoms, now in full bloom, distilled on the breeze
       the finest aromatic perfume.
       To these charming groups of native trees were added transplantations
       from European climates. The peach, pear, and apple trees
       were there, the fig, the orange, and even the oak, to the rapturous
       delight of the travelers, who greeted them with loud hurrahs!
       But astonished as the travelers were to find themselves walking beneath
       the shadow of the trees of their own native land, they were still
       more so at the sight of the birds that flew about in the branches--
       the "satin bird," with its silky plumage, and the "king-honeysuckers,"
       with their plumage of gold and black velvet.
       For the first time, too, they saw here the "Lyre" bird, the tail
       of which resembles in form the graceful instrument of Orpheus. It flew
       about among the tree ferns, and when its tail struck the branches,
       they were almost surprised not to hear the harmonious strains
       that inspired Amphion to rebuild the walls of Thebes. Paganel had
       a great desire to play on it.
       However, Lord Glenarvan was not satisfied with admiring the fairy-like
       wonders of this oasis, improvised in the Australian desert.
       He was listening to the history of the young gentlemen.
       In England, in the midst of civilized countries, the new comer
       acquaints his host whence he comes and whither he is going;
       but here, by a refinement of delicacy, Michael and Sandy Patterson
       thought it a duty to make themselves known to the strangers
       who were about to receive their hospitality.
       Michael and Sandy Patterson were the sons of London bankers.
       When they were twenty years of age, the head of their family said,
       "Here are some thousands, young men. Go to a distant colony;
       and start some useful settlement there. Learn to know life by labor.
       If you succeed, so much the better. If you fail, it won't matter much.
       We shall not regret the money which makes you men."
       The two young men obeyed. They chose the colony of Victoria
       in Australia, as the field for sowing the paternal
       bank-notes, and had no reason to repent the selection.
       At the end of three years the establishment was flourishing.
       In Victoria, New South Wales, and Southern Australia, there are
       more than three thousand stations, some belonging to squatters
       who rear cattle, and others to settlers who farm the ground.
       Till the arrival of the two Pattersons, the largest establishment
       of this sort was that of Mr. Jamieson, which covered an area
       of seventy-five miles, with a frontage of about eight miles
       along the Peron, one of the affluents of the Darling.
       Now Hottam Station bore the palm for business and extent.
       The young men were both squatters and settlers. They managed
       their immense property with rare ability and uncommon energy.
       The station was far removed from the chief towns in the
       V. IV Verne midst of the unfrequented districts of the Murray.
       It occupied a long wide space of five leagues in extent,
       lying between the Buffalo Ranges and Mount Hottam. At the two
       angles north of this vast quadrilateral, Mount Aberdeen rose
       on the left, and the peaks of High Barven on the right.
       Winding, beautiful streams were not wanting, thanks to the creeks
       and affluents of the Oven's River, which throws itself
       at the north into the bed of the Murray. Consequently they
       were equally successful in cattle breeding and farming.
       Ten thousand acres of ground, admirably cultivated,
       produced harvests of native productions and exotics, and several
       millions of animals fattened in the fertile pastures.
       The products of Hottam Station fetched the very highest price
       in the markets of Castlemaine and Melbourne.
       Michael and Sandy Patterson had just concluded these details
       of their busy life, when their dwelling came in sight,
       at the extremity of the avenue of the oaks.
       It was a charming house, built of wood and brick,
       hidden in groves of emerophilis. Nothing at all, however,
       belonging to a station was visible--neither sheds, nor stables,
       nor cart-houses. All these out-buildings, a perfect village,
       comprising more than twenty huts and houses, were about
       a quarter of a mile off in the heart of a little valley.
       Electric communication was established between this village
       and the master's house, which, far removed from all noise,
       seemed buried in a forest of exotic trees.
       At Sandy Patterson's bidding, a sumptuous breakfast was served
       in less than a quarter of an hour. The wines and viands were
       of the finest quality; but what pleased the guests most of all
       in the midst of these refinements of opulence, was the joy of
       the young squatters in offering them this splendid hospitality.
       It was not long before they were told the history of the expedition,
       and had their liveliest interest awakened for its success.
       They spoke hopefully to the young Grants, and Michael said:
       "Harry Grant has evidently fallen into the hands of natives,
       since he has not turned up at any of the settlements on the coast.
       He knows his position exactly, as the document proves, and the reason
       he did not reach some English colony is that he must have been
       taken prisoner by the savages the moment he landed!"
       "That is precisely what befell his quartermaster, Ayrton,"
       said John Mangles.
       "But you, gentlemen, then, have never heard the catastrophe
       of the BRITANNIA, mentioned?" inquired Lady Helena.
       "Never, Madam," replied Michael.
       "And what treatment, in your opinion, has Captain Grant met
       with among the natives?"
       "The Australians are not cruel, Madam," replied the young squatter,
       "and Miss Grant may be easy on that score. There have been many
       instances of the gentleness of their nature, and some Europeans
       have lived a long time among them without having the least cause
       to complain of their brutality."
       "King, among others, the sole survivor of the Burke expedition,"
       put in Paganel.
       "And not only that bold explorer," returned Sandy, "but also an
       English soldier named Buckley, who deserted at Port Philip in 1803,
       and who was welcomed by the natives, and lived thirty-three
       years among them."
       "And more recently," added Michael," one of the last numbers
       of the AUSTRALASIA informs us that a certain Morrilli has just
       been restored to his countrymen after sixteen years of slavery.
       His story is exactly similar to the captain's, for it was at the very time
       of his shipwreck in the PRUVIENNE, in 1846, that he was made prisoner
       by the natives, and dragged away into the interior of the continent.
       I therefore think you have reason to hope still."
       The young squatter's words caused great joy to his auditors.
       They completely corroborated the opinions of Paganel and Ayrton.
       The conversation turned on the convicts after the ladies had
       left the table. The squatters had heard of the catastrophe at
       Camden Bridge, but felt no uneasiness about the escaped gang.
       It was not a station, with more than a hundred men on it, that they
       would dare to attack. Besides, they would never go into the deserts
       of the Murray, where they could find no booty, nor near the colonies
       of New South Wales, where the roads were too well watched.
       Ayrton had said this too.
       Glenarvan could not refuse the request of his amiable hosts,
       to spend the whole day at the station. It was twelve hours'
       delay, but also twelve hours' rest, and both horses and bullocks would
       be the better for the comfortable quarters they would find there.
       This was accordingly agreed upon, and the young squatters sketched
       out a programme of the day's amusements, which was adopted eagerly.
       At noon, seven vigorous hunters were before the door. An elegant brake
       was intended for the ladies, in which the coachman could exhibit his skill
       in driving four-in-hand. The cavalcade set off preceded by huntsmen,
       and armed with first-rate rifles, followed by a pack of pointers
       barking joyously as they bounded through the bushes. For four hours
       the hunting party wandered through the paths and avenues of the park,
       which was as large as a small German state. The Reuiss-Schleitz,
       or Saxe-Coburg Gotha, would have gone inside it comfortably.
       Few people were to be met in it certainly, but sheep in abundance.
       As for game, there was a complete preserve awaiting the hunters.
       The noisy reports of guns were soon heard on all sides. Little Robert
       did wonders in company with Major McNabbs. The daring boy, in spite
       of his sister's injunctions, was always in front, and the first to fire.
       But John Mangles promised to watch over him, and Mary felt less uneasy.
       During this BATTUE they killed certain animals peculiar to
       the country, the very names of which were unknown to Paganel;
       among others the "wombat" and the "bandicoot." The wombat is
       an herbivorous animal, which burrows in the ground like a badger.
       It is as large as a sheep, and the flesh is excellent.
       The bandicoot is a species of marsupial animal which could outwit
       the European fox, and give him lessons in pillaging poultry yards.
       It was a repulsive-looking animal, a foot and a half long, but, as Paganel
       chanced to kill it, of course he thought it charming.
       "An adorable creature," he called it.
       But the most interesting event of the day, by far, was the kangaroo hunt.
       About four o'clock, the dogs roused a troop of these curious marsupials.
       The little ones retreated precipitately into the maternal pouch,
       and all the troop decamped in file. Nothing could be more astonishing
       than the enormous bounds of the kangaroo. The hind legs of the animal
       are twice as long as the front ones, and unbend like a spring.
       At the head of the flying troop was a male five feet high,
       a magnificent specimen of the _macropus giganteus_, an "old man,"
       as the bushmen say.
       For four or five miles the chase was vigorously pursued.
       The kangaroos showed no signs of weariness, and the dogs,
       who had reason enough to fear their strong paws and
       sharp nails, did not care to approach them. But at last,
       worn out with the race, the troop stopped, and the "old man"
       leaned against the trunk of a tree, ready to defend himself.
       One of the pointers, carried away by excitement, went up to him.
       Next minute the unfortunate beast leaped into the air,
       and fell down again completely ripped up.
       The whole pack, indeed, would have had little chance with these
       powerful marsupia. They had to dispatch the fellow with rifles.
       Nothing but balls could bring down the gigantic animal.
       Just at this moment, Robert was well nigh the victim of his
       own imprudence. To make sure of his aim, he had approached too
       near the kangaroo, and the animal leaped upon him immediately.
       Robert gave a loud cry and fell. Mary Grant saw it all from
       the brake, and in an agony of terror, speechless and almost unable
       even to see, stretched out her arms toward her little brother.
       No one dared to fire, for fear of wounding the child.
       But John Mangles opened his hunting knife, and at the risk of being
       ripped up himself, sprang at the animal, and plunged it into his heart.
       The beast dropped forward, and Robert rose unhurt. Next minute he was
       in his sister's arms.
       "Thank you, Mr. John, thank you!" she said, holding out her hand
       to the young captain.
       "I had pledged myself for his safety," was all John said,
       taking her trembling fingers into his own.
       This occurrence ended the sport. The band of marsupia
       had disappeared after the death of their leader.
       The hunting party returned home, bringing their game with them.
       It was then six o'clock. A magnificent dinner was ready.
       Among other things, there was one dish that was a great success.
       It was kangaroo-tail soup, prepared in the native manner.
       Next morning very early, they took leave of the young squatters,
       with hearty thanks and a positive promise from them of a visit
       to Malcolm Castle when they should return to Europe.
       Then the wagon began to move away, round the foot of Mount Hottam,
       and soon the hospitable dwelling disappeared from the sight
       of the travelers like some brief vision which had come and gone.
       For five miles further, the horses were still treading the station lands.
       It was not till nine o'clock that they had passed the last fence,
       and entered the almost unknown districts of the province of Victoria.
       Content of Book II - Australia CHAPTER XIV - WEALTH IN THE WILDERNESS [Jules Verne's novel: In Search of the Castaways]
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Introduction
Book I - South America
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER I - THE SHARK
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER II - THE THREE DOCUMENTS
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER III - THE CAPTAIN'S CHILDREN
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER IV - LADY GLENARVAN'S PROPOSAL
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER V - THE DEPARTURE OF THE "DUNCAN"
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER VI - AN UNEXPECTED PASSENGER
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER VII - JACQUES PAGANEL IS UNDECEIVED
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER VIII - THE GEOGRAPHER'S RESOLUTION
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER IX - THROUGH THE STRAITS OF MAGELLAN
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER X - THE COURSE DECIDED
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XI - TRAVELING IN CHILI
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XII - ELEVEN THOUSAND FEET ALOFT
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XIII - A SUDDEN DESCENT
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XIV - PROVIDENTIALLY RESCUED
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XV - THALCAVE
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XVI - THE NEWS OF THE LOST CAPTAIN
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XVII - A SERIOUS NECESSITY
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XVIII - IN SEARCH OF WATER
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XIX - THE RED WOLVES
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XX - STRANGE SIGNS
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XXI - A FALSE TRAIL
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XXII - THE FLOOD
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XXIII - A SINGULAR ABODE
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XXIV - PAGANEL'S DISCLOSURE
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XXV - BETWEEN FIRE AND WATER
   Book I - South America - CHAPTER XXVI - THE RETURN ON BOARD
Book II - Australia
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER I - A NEW DESTINATION
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER II - TRISTAN D'ACUNHA AND THE ISLE OF AMSTERDAM
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER III - CAPE TOWN AND M. VIOT
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER IV - A WAGER AND HOW DECIDED
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER V - THE STORM ON THE INDIAN OCEAN
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER VI - A HOSPITABLE COLONIST
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER VII - THE QUARTERMASTER OF THE "BRITANNIA"
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER VIII - PREPARATION FOR THE JOURNEY
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER IX - A COUNTRY OF PARADOXES
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER X - AN ACCIDENT
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER XI - CRIME OR CALAMITY
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER XII - TOLINE OF THE LACHLAN
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER XIII - A WARNING
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER XIV - WEALTH IN THE WILDERNESS
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER XV - SUSPICIOUS OCCURRENCES
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER XVI - A STARTLING DISCOVERY
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER XVII - THE PLOT UNVEILED
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER XVIII - FOUR DAYS OF ANGUISH
   Book II - Australia - CHAPTER XIX - HELPLESS AND HOPELESS
Book III - New Zealand
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER I - A ROUGH CAPTAIN
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER II - NAVIGATORS AND THEIR DISCOVERIES
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER III - THE MARTYR-ROLL OF NAVIGATORS
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER IV - THE WRECK OF THE "MACQUARIE"
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER V - CANNIBALS
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER VI - A DREADED COUNTRY
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER VII - THE MAORI WAR
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER VIII - ON THE ROAD TO AUCKLAND
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER IX - INTRODUCTION TO THE CANNIBALS
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER X - A MOMENTOUS INTERVIEW
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER XI - THE CHIEF'S FUNERAL
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER XII - STRANGELY LIBERATED
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER XIII - THE SACRED MOUNTAIN
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER XIV - A BOLD STRATAGEM
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER XV - FROM PERIL TO SAFETY
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER XVI - WHY THE "DUNCAN" WENT TO NEW ZEALAND
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER XVII - AYRTON'S OBSTINACY
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER XVIII - A DISCOURAGING CONFESSION
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER XIX - A CRY IN THE NIGHT
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER XX - CAPTAIN GRANT'S STORY
   Book III - New Zealand - CHAPTER XXI - PAGANEL'S LAST ENTANGLEMENT