Jules Verne (31 page)

It was, certainly, a fortunate circumstance that the ant-hill had been
abandoned by the termites. With a few thousands of these ants, it
would have been uninhabitable. But, had it been evacuated for some
time, or had the voracious newroptera but just quitted it? It was not
superfluous to ponder this question.

Cousin Benedict was so much surprised at the abandonment, that he at
once considered the reason for it, and he was soon convinced that the
emigration had been recent.

In fact, he did not wait, but, descending to the lower part of the
cone, and taking the lantern, he commenced to examine the most secret
corners of the ant-hill. He thus discovered what is called the
"general store-house" of the termites, that is to say, the place where
these industrious insects lay up the provisions of the colony.

It was a cavity hollowed in the wall, not far from the royal cell,
which Hercules's labor had destroyed, along with the cells destined
for the young larvae.

In this store-room Cousin Benedict collected a certain quantity of
particles of gum and the juices of plants, scarcely solidified, which
proved that the termites had lately brought them from without.

"Well, no!" cried he. "No!" as if he were replying to some
contradiction, "No, this ant-hill has not been long abandoned."

"Who says to the contrary, Mr. Benedict?" said Dick Sand. "Recently
or not, the important thing for us is that the termites have left it,
because we have to take their place."

"The important thing," replied Cousin Benedict, "will be to know why
they have left it. Yesterday—this morning, perhaps—these sagacious
newroptera were still here, because, see these liquid juices; and this
evening—"

"Well, what do you conclude, Mr. Benedict?" asked Dick Sand.

"That a secret presentiment has caused them to abandon the cone. Not
only have all the termites left their cells, but they have taken care
to carry away the young larvae, of which I cannot find one. Well, I
repeat that all this was not done without a motive, and that these
sagacious insects foresaw some near danger."

"They foresaw that we were going to invade their dwelling," replied
Hercules, laughing.

"Indeed!" replied Cousin Benedict, whom this answer sensibly shocked.
"You think yourself so strong that you would be dangerous to these
courageous insects? A few thousand of these newroptera would quickly
reduce you to a skeleton if they found you dead on the road."

"Dead, certainly," replied Hercules, who would not give up; "but,
living, I could crush masses of them."

"You might crush a hundred thousand, five hundred thousand, a
million," replied Cousin Benedict, with animation, "but not a thousand
millions; and a thousand millions would devour you, living or dead, to
the last morsel."

During this discussion, which was less trifling than might be
supposed, Dick Sand reflected on the observations made by Cousin
Benedict. There was no doubt that the savant knew too much about the
habits of the termites to be mistaken. If he declared that a secret
instinct warned them to leave the ant-hill recently, it was because
there was truly peril in remaining in it.

Meanwhile, as it was impossible to abandon this shelter at a moment
when the storm was raging with unparalleled intensity, Dick
Sand looked no farther for an explanation of what seemed to be
inexplicable, and he contented himself with saying:

"Well, Mr. Benedict, if the termites have left their provisions in
this ant-hill, we must not forget that we have brought ours, and
let us have supper. To-morrow, when the storm will be over, we will
consult together on our future plans."

They then occupied themselves in preparing the evening meal, for,
great as their fatigue was, it had not affected the appetite of these
vigorous walkers. On the contrary, the food, which had to last for two
more days, was very welcome. The damp had not reached the biscuits,
and for several minutes it could be heard cracking under the solid
teeth of Dick Sand and his companions. Between Hercules's jaws it
was like grain under the miller's grindstone. It did not crackle, it
powdered.

Mrs. Weldon alone scarcely eat, and even Dick Sand's entreaties were
vain. It seemed to him that this brave woman was more preoccupied,
more sad than she had been hitherto. Meanwhile her little Jack
suffered less; the fever had not returned, and at this time he was
sleeping, under his mother's eyes, in a cell well lined with garments.
Dick Sand knew not what to think.

It is useless to say that Cousin Benedict did honor to the repast, not
that he paid any attention either to the quality or to the quantity of
the food that he devoured, but because he had found an opportunity to
deliver a lecture in entomology on the termites. Ah! if he had been
able to find a termite, a single one, in the deserted ant hill! But
nothing.

"These admirable insects," said he, without taking the trouble to find
out if any one were listening—"these admirable insects belong to the
marvelous order of newroptera, whose horns are longer than the head,
the jaws very distinct, and whose lower wings are generally equal to
the upper ones. Five tribes constitute this order: the Panorpates
(scorpion flies), the Myrmileoniens, the Hemerobins, the Termitines
and the Perlides. It is useless to add that the insects which now
interest us, and whose dwelling we occupy, perhaps unduly, are the
Termitines."

At this moment Dick Sand listened very attentively to Cousin Benedict.
Had the meeting with these termites excited in him the thought that he
was perhaps on the African continent, without knowing by what chance
he had arrived there? The young novice was very anxious to find out.

The savant, mounted on his favorite hobby, continued to ride it
beautifully.

"Now these termitines," said he, "are characterized by four joints
on the instep, horned jaws, and remarkable strength. We have the
mantispe
species, the
raphidie
, and the termite species. The last
is often known under the term of white ants, in which we count the
deadly termite, the yellow corslet termite, the termite that shuns the
light, the biter, the destroyer—"

"And those that constructed this ant-hill?" asked Dick Sand.

"They are the martial ants," replied Cousin Benedict, who pronounced
this word as if it had been the Macedonians, or some other ancient
people brave in war. "Yes, the warlike ants, and of all sizes.
Between Hercules and a dwarf the difference would be less than
between the largest of these insects and the smallest. Among them are
'workers' of five millimeters in length 'soldiers' of ten, and males
and females of twenty. We find also a kind otherwise very curious: the
sirafous
half an inch in length, which have pincers for jaws, and a
head larger than the body, like the sharks. They are the sharks among
insects, and in a fight between some
sirafous
and a shark, I would
bet on the
sirafous
."

"And where are these
sirafous
commonly observed?" then asked Dick
Sand.

"In Africa," replied Cousin Benedict; "in the central and southern
provinces. Africa is, in fact, the country of ants. You should read
what Livingstone says of them in the last notes reported by Stanley.
More fortunate than myself, the doctor has witnessed a Homeric battle,
joined between an army of black ants and an army of red ants. The
latter, which are called 'drivers,' and which the natives name
sirafous
, were victorious.

"The others, the '
tchoungous
,' took flight, carrying their eggs and
their young, not without having bravely defended themselves. Never,
according to Livingstone, never was the spirit of battle carried
farther, either among men or beasts! With their tenacious jaws, which
tear out the piece, these
sirafous
make the bravest man recoil. The
largest animals—even lions and elephants—flee before them.

"Nothing stops them; neither trees, which they climb to the summit,
nor streams, which they cross by making a suspension bridge of
their own bodies, hooked together. And numerous! Another African
traveler—Du Chaillu—has seen a column of these ants defile past him
for twelve hours without stopping on the road. But why be astonished
at the sight of such myriads? The fecundity of these insects is
surprising; and, to return to our fighting termites, it has been
proved that a female deposits as much as sixty thousand eggs in a
day! Besides, these newroptera furnish the natives with a juicy food.
Broiled ants, my friends; I know of nothing better in the world!"

"Have you then eaten them, Mr. Benedict?" asked Hercules.

"Never," replied the wise professor; "but I shall eat some."

"Where?"

"Here."

"Here; we are not in Africa!" said Tom, very quickly.

"No, no!" replied Cousin Benedict; "and, thus far, these warlike
termites, and their villages of ant-hills, have only been observed on
the African Continent. Ah! such travelers. They do not know how to
see! Well! all the better, after all. I have discovered a
tsetse
in
America. To the glory of this, I shall join that of having found the
warlike termites on the same continent! What matter for an article
that will make a sensation in educated Europe, and, perhaps, appear in
folio form, with prints and engravings, besides the text!"

It was evident that the truth had not entered Cousin Benedict's brain.
The poor man and all his companions, Dick Sand and Tom excepted,
believed themselves, and must believe themselves, where they were
not! It needed other incidents, facts still more grave than certain
scientific curiosities, to undeceive them!

It was then nine o'clock in the morning. Cousin Benedict had talked
for a long time. Did he perceive that his auditors, propped up in
their cells, had gradually fallen asleep during his entomological
lecture? No; certainly not. He lectured for himself. Dick Sand no
longer questioned him, and remained motionless, although he did not
sleep. As for Hercules, he had resisted longer than the others; but
fatigue soon finished by shutting his eyes, and, with his eyes, his
ears.

For some time longer Cousin Benedict continued to lecture. However,
sleep finally got the best of him, and he mounted to the upper cavity
of the cone, in which he had chosen his domicile.

Deep silence fell on the interior of the cone, while the storm filled
space with noise and fire. Nothing seemed to indicate that the tempest
was nearly over.

The lantern had been extinguished. The interior of the ant-hill was
plunged in complete darkness.

No doubt all slept. However, Dick Sand, alone, did not seek in sleep
the repose which was so necessary to him. Thought absorbed him. He
dreamed of his companions, whom he would save at all hazards. The
wrecking of the "Pilgrim" had not been the end of their cruel trials,
and others, still more terrible, threatened them should they fall into
the hands of these natives.

And how to avoid this danger, the worst of all, during their return to
the coast. Harris and Negoro had not led them a hundred miles into the
interior of Angola without a secret design to gain possession of them.

But what did this miserable Portuguese intend? Who had merited his
hatred? The young novice repeated to himself, that he alone had
incurred it. Then he passed in review all the incidents that had taken
place during the "Pilgrim's" voyage; the meeting with the wreck and
the blacks; the pursuit of the whale; the disappearance of Captain
Hull and his crew.

Dick Sand had found himself, at the age of fifteen, intrusted with the
command of a vessel, the compass and log of which were soon injured by
Negoro's criminal actions. He again saw himself using his authority in
the presence of this insolent cook, threatening to put him in irons,
or to blow out his brains with a pistol shot. Ah, why had he hesitated
to do it? Negoro's corpse would have been thrown overboard, and none
of these catastrophes would have happened.

Such were the young man's various thoughts. Then they dwelt a moment
on the shipwreck which had ended the "Pilgrim's" voyage. The traitor
Harris appeared then, and this province of South America gradually
became transformed. Bolivia changed to the terrible Angola, with its
feverish climate, its savage deer, its natives still more cruel. Could
the little party escape during its return to the coast? This river
which he was seeking, which he hoped to find, would it conduct them to
the shore with more safety, and with less fatigue? He would not doubt
it, for he knew well that a march of a hundred miles through this
inhospitable country, in the midst of incessant dangers, was no longer
possible.

"Happily," he said to himself, "Mrs. Weldon and all are ignorant of
the danger of the situation. Old Tom and I, we alone are to know that
Negoro has thrown us on the coast of Africa; and that Harris has led
me into the wilds of Angola."

Dick Sand was thus sunk in overpowering thoughts, when he felt a
breath on his forehead. A hand rested on his shoulder, and a trembling
voice murmured these words in his ear:

"I know all, my poor Dick, but God can yet save us! His will be done!"

To this unexpected revelation Dick Sand could not reply. Besides, Mrs.
Weldon had gone back at once to her place beside little Jack. She
evidently did not wish to say any more about it, and the young novice
had not the courage to detain her.

Thus Mrs. Weldon knew what to believe. The various incidents, of the
way had enlightened her also, and perhaps, too, that word, "Africa!"
so unluckily pronounced the night before by Cousin Benedict.

"Mrs. Weldon knows everything," repeated Dick Sand to himself. "Well,
perhaps it is better so. The brave woman does not despair. I shall not
despair either."