The Survivors of the Chancellor
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Jules Verne >> The Survivors of the Chancellor
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WORKS
of
JULES VERNE
EDITED BY
CHARLES F. HORNE
INTRODUCTION
THE SURVIVORS OF THE CHANCELLOR
was issued in 1875. Shipwrecks occur
in other of Verne's tales; but this is his only
story devoted wholly to such a disaster. In it
the author has gathered all the tragedy, the
mystery, and the suffering possible to the sea. All the vari-
ous forms of disaster, all the possibilities of horror, the
depths of shame and agony, are heaped upon these unhappy
voyagers. The accumulation is mathematically complete
and emotionally unforgettable. The tale has well been called
the "imperishable epic of shipwreck."
The idea of the book is said to have originated in the cele-
brated French painting by Gericault, "the Wreck of the
Medusa," now in the Louvre gallery. The Medusa was a
French frigate wrecked off the coast of Africa in 1816.
Some of the survivors, escaping on a raft, were rescued by
a passing ship after many days of torture. Verne, however,
seems also to have drawn upon the terrifying experiences of
the British ship Sarah Sands in 1857, her story being fresh
in the public mind at the time he wrote. The Sarah Sands
caught fire off the African coast while on a voyage to India
carrying British troops. There was gunpowder aboard li-
able to blow up at any moment. Some of it did indeed ex-
plode, tearing a huge hole in the vessel's side. A storm
added to the terror, and the waters entering the breach
caused by the explosion, combated with the fire. After ten
days of desperate struggle, the charred and sinking vessel
reached a port.
The extreme length of life which Verne allows his people
in their starving, thirsting condition is proven possible by
medical science and recent "fasting"' experiments. The
dramatic climax of the tale wherein the castaways find fresh
water in the ocean is based upon a fact, one of those odd
geographical facts of which the author made such frequent,
skillful and instructive use.
"Michael Strogoff" which, through its use as a stage
play, has become one of the best known books of all the
world, was first published in 1876. Its vivid, powerful
story has made it a favorite with every red-blooded reader.
Its two well-drawn female characters, the courageous hero-
ine, and the stern, endurant, yearning mother, show how
well Verne could depict the tenderer sex when he so willed.
Though usually the rapid movement and adventure of his
stories leave women in subordinate parts.
As to the picture drawn in "Michael Strogoff" of Russia
and Siberia, it is at once instructive and sympathetic.
The horrors are not blinked at, yet neither is Russian patri-
otism ignored. The loyalty of some of the Siberian exiles
to their mother country is a side of life there which is too
often ignored by writers who dwell only on the darker view.
The Czar, in our author's hands, becomes the hero figure
to the erection of which French "hero worship" is ever
prone. The sarcasms thrown occasionally at the British
newspaper correspondent of the story, show the changing
attitude of Verne toward England, and reflect the French
spirit of his day.
The Survivors of the Chancellor
by Jules Verne
CHAPTER I
THE CHANCELLOR
CHARLESTON, September 27, 1898. -- It is
high tide, and three o'clock in the afternoon
when we leave the Battery quay; the ebb
carries us off shore, and as Captain Huntly
has hoisted both main and top sails, the north-
erly breeze drives the Chancellor briskly
across the bay. Fort Sumter ere long is doubled, the
sweeping batteries of the mainland on our left are soon
passed, and by four o'clock the rapid current of the ebbing
tide has carried us through the harbor mouth.
But as yet we have not reached the open sea we have still
to thread our way through the narrow channels which the
surge has hollowed out amongst the sand-banks. The
captain takes a southwest course, rounding the lighthouse
at the corner of the fort; the sails are closely trimmed; the
last sandy point is safely coasted, and at length, at seven
o'clock in the evening, we are out free upon the wide At-
lantic.
The Chancellor is a fine square-rigged three-master, of
900 tons burden, and belongs to the wealthy Liverpool firm
of Laird Brothers. She is two years old, is sheathed and
secured with copper, her decks being of teak, and the base
of all her masts, except the mizzen, with all their fittings,
being of iron. She is registered first class, A 1, and is now
on her third voyage between Charleston and Liverpool. As
she wended her way through the channels of Charleston
harbor, it was the British flag that was lowered from her
mast-head; but without colors at all, no sailor could have
hesitated for a moment in telling her nationality, -- for Eng-
lish she was, and nothing but English from her water-line
upward to the truck of her masts.
I must now relate how it happens that I have taken my
passage on board the Chancellor on her return voyage to
England.
At present there is no direct steamship service between
South Carolina and Great Britain, and all who wish to cross
must go either northward to New York or southward to
New Orleans. It is quite true that if I had chosen a start
from New York I might have found plenty of vessels be-
longing to English, French, or Hamburg lines, any of which
would have conveyed me by a rapid voyage to my destina-
tion; and it is equally true that if I had selected New Or-
leans for my embarkation I could readily have reached
Europe by one of the vessels of the National Steam Naviga-
tion Company, which join the French transatlantic line
of Colon and Aspinwall. But it was fated to be otherwise.
One day, as I was loitering about the Charleston quays,
my eye lighted on this vessel. There was something about
the Chancellor that pleased me, and a kind of involuntary
impulse took me on board, where I found the internal ar-
rangements perfectly comfortable. Yielding to the idea
that a voyage in a sailing vessel had certain charms beyond
the transit in a steamer, and reckoning that with wind and
wave in my favor there would be little material difference
in time; considering, moreover, that in these low latitudes
the weather in early autumn is fine and unbroken, I came
to my decision, and proceeded forthwith to secure my pas-
sage by this route to Europe.
Have I done right or wrong? Whether I shall have rea-
son to regret my determination is a problem to be solved in
the future. However, I will begin to record the incidents
of our daily experience, dubious as I feel whether the lines
of my chronicle will ever find a reader.
CHAPTER II
CREW AND PASSENGERS
SEPTEMBER 28. -- John Silas Huntly, the captain of the
Chancellor, has the reputation of being a most experienced
navigator of the Atlantic. He is a Scotchman by birth,
a native of Dundee, and is about fifty years of age. He is
of the middle height and slight build, and has a small head,
which he has a habit of holding a little over his left shoulder.
I do not pretend to be much of a physiognomist, but I am
inclined to believe that my few hours' acquaintance with our
captain has given me considerable insight into his charac-
ter. That he is a good seaman and thoroughly understands
his duties I could not for a moment venture to deny; but
that he is a man of resolute temperament, or that he pos-
sesses the amount of courage that would render him, phy-
sically or morally, capable of coping with any great emer-
gency, I confess I cannot believe. I observed a certain
heaviness and dejection about his whole carriage. His
wavering glances, the listless motion of his hands, and his
slow, unsteady gait, all seem to me to indicate a weak and
sluggish disposition. He does not appear as though he
could be energetic enough ever to be stubborn; he never
frowns, sets his teeth, or clenches his fists. There is some-
thing enigmatical about him; however, I shall study him
closely, and do what I can to understand the man who, as
commander of a vessel, should be to those around him
"second only to God."
Unless I am greatly mistaken there is another man on
board who, if circumstances should require it, would take
the more prominent position -- I mean the mate. I have
hitherto, however, had so little opportunity of observing his
character, that I must defer saying more about him at pres-
ent.
Besides the captain and this mate, whose name is Robert
Curtis, our crew consists of Walter, the lieutenant, the boat-
swain, and fourteen sailors, all English or Scotch, making
eighteen altogether, a number quite sufficient for working
a vessel of 900 tons burden. Up to this time my sole ex-
perience of their capabilities is, that under the command of
the mate, they brought us skillfully enough through the
narrow channels of Charleston; and I have no reason to
doubt that they are well up to their work.
My list of the ship's officials is incomplete unless I men-
tion Hobart the steward and Jynxstrop the negro cook.
In addition to these, the Chancellor carries eight pas-
sengers, including myself. Hitherto, the bustle of em-
barkation, the arrangement of cabins, and all the variety of
preparations inseparable from starting on a voyage for at
least twenty or five-and-twenty days have precluded the
formation of any acquaintanceships; but the monotony of
the voyage, the close proximity into which we must be
thrown, and the natural curiosity to know something of each
other's affairs, will doubtless lead us in due time to an ex-
change of ideas. Two days have elapsed and I have not
even seen all the passengers. Probably sea-sickness has
prevented some of them from making an appearance at the
common table. One thing, however, I do know; namely,
that there are two ladies occupying the stern cabin, the win-
dows of which are in the aft-board of the vessel.
I have seen the ship's list, and subjoin a list of the pas-
sengers. They are as follows:
Mr. and Mrs. Kear, Americans, of Buffalo.
Miss Herbey, a young English lady, companion to Mrs.
Kear.
M. Letourneur and his son Andre, Frenchmen, of Havre.
William Falsten, a Manchester engineer.
John Ruby, a Cardiff merchant; and myself, J. R. Kazal-
lon, of London.
CHAPTER III
BILL OF LADING
SEPTEMBER 29. -- Captain Huntly's bill of lading, that is
to say, the document that describes the Chancellor's cargo
and the conditions of transport, is couched in the following
terms:
Bronsfield and Co., Agents, Charleston:
I, John Silas Huntly, of Dundee, Scotland, commander
of the ship Chancellor, of about 900 tons burden, now at
Charleston, do purpose, by the blessing of God, at the earli-
est convenient season, and by the direct route, to sail for the
port of Liverpool, where I shall obtain my discharge. I
do hereby acknowledge that I have received from you,
Messrs. Bronsfield and Co., Commission Agents, Charles-
ton, and have placed the same under the gun-deck of the
aforesaid ship, seventeen hundred bales of cotton, of the
estimated value of 26,000 L., all in good condition, marked
and numbered as in the margin; which goods I do undertake
to transport to Liverpool, and there to deliver, free from
injury (save only such injury as shall have been caused by
the chances of the sea), to Messrs. Laird Brothers, or to
their order, or to their representatives, who shall on due
delivery of the said freight pay me the sum of 2,000 L. inclu-
sive, according to the charter-party, and damages in addi-
tion, according to the usages and customs of the sea.
And for the fulfillment of the above covenant, I have
pledged and do pledge my person, my property, and my
interest in the vessel aforesaid, with all its appurtenances.
In witness whereof, I have signed three agreements all of
the same purport, on the condition that when the terms of
one are accomplished, the other two shall be absolutely null
and void.
Given at Charleston, September 13th, 1869.
J. S. HUNTLY.
From the foregoing document it will be understood that
the Chancellor is conveying 1,700 bales of cotton to Liver-
pool; that the shippers are Bronsfield, of Charleston, and
the consignees are Laird Brothers of Liverpool. The ship
was constructed with the especial design of carrying cotton,
and the entire hold, with the exception of a very limited
space reserved for passenger's luggage, is closely packed
with the bales. The lading was performed with the utmost
care, each bale being pressed into its proper place by the
aid of screw-jacks, so that the whole freight forms one solid
and compact mass; not an inch of space is wasted, and the
vessel is thus made capable of carrying her full complement
of cargo.
CHAPTER IV
SOMETHING ABOUT MY FELLOW PASSENGERS
SEPTEMBER 30 to October 6. -- The Chancellor is a rapid
sailer, and more than a match for many a vessel of the
same dimensions. She scuds along merrily in the freshen-
ing breeze, leaving in her wake, far as the eye can reach, a
long white line of foam as well defined as a delicate strip
of lace stretched upon an azure ground.
The Atlantic is not visited by many gales, and I have
every reason to believe that the rolling and pitching of the
vessel no longer incommode any of the passengers, who are
all more or less accustomed to the sea. A vacant seat at
our table is now very rare; we are beginning to know some-
thing about each other, and our daily life, in consequence,
is becoming somewhat less monotonous.
M. Letourneur, our French fellow-passenger, often has
a chat with me. He is a fine tall man, about fifty years of
age, with white hair and a grizzly beard. To say the truth,
he looks older than he really is: his drooping head, his de-
jected manner, and his eye, ever and again suffused with
tears, indicate that he is haunted by some deep and abiding
sorrow. He never laughs; he rarely even smiles, and then
only on his son; his countenance ordinarily bearing a look
of bitterness tempered by affection, while his general ex-
pression is one of caressing tenderness. It excites an invol-
untary commiseration to learn that M. Letourneur is con-
suming himself by exaggerated reproaches on account of
the infirmity of an afflicted son.
Andre Letourneur is about twenty years of age, with a
gentle, interesting countenance, but, to the irrepressible
grief of his father, is a hopeless cripple. His left leg is
miserably deformed, and he is quite unable to walk without
the assistance of a stick. It is obvious that the father's
life is bound up with that of his son; his devotion is unceas-
ing; every thought, every glance is for Andre; he seems to
anticipate his most trifling wish, watches his slightest move-
ment, and his arm is ever ready to support or otherwise
assist the child whose sufferings he more than shares.
M. Letourneur seems to have taken a peculiar fancy to
myself, and constantly talks about Andre. This morning,
in the course of conversation, I said:
"You have a good son, M. Letourneur. I have just
been talking to him. He is a most intelligent young man."
"Yes, Mr. Kazallon," replied M. Letourneur, brighten-
ing up into a smile, "his afflicted frame contains a noble
mind. He is like his mother, who died at his birth."
"He is full of reverence and love for you, sir," I re-
marked.
"Dear boy!" muttered the father half to himself. "Ah,
Mr. Kazallon," he continued, "you do not know what it is
to a father to have a son a cripple, beyond hope of cure."
"M. Letourneur," I answered, "you take more than your
share of the affliction which has fallen upon you and your
son. That M. Andre is entitled to the very greatest com-
miseration no one can deny; but you should remember, that
after all a physical infirmity is not so hard to bear as mental
grief. Now, I have watched your son pretty closely, and
unless I am much mistaken there is nothing that troubles
him so much as the sight of your own sorrow."
"But I never let him see it," he broke in hastily. "My
sole thought is how to divert him. I have discovered that,
in spite of his physical weakness, he delights in traveling;
so for the last few years we have been constantly on the
move. We first went all over Europe, and are now re-
turning from visiting the principal places in the United
States. I never allowed my son to go to college, but in-
structed him entirely myself, and these travels, I hope, will
serve to complete his education. He is very intelligent, and
has a lively imagination, and I am sometimes tempted to
hope that in contemplating the wonders of nature he forgets
his own infirmity."
"Yes, sir, of course he does," I assented.
"But," continued M. Letourneur, taking my hand, "al-
though, perhaps, HE may forget, I can never forget. Ah,
sir, do you suppose that Andre can ever forgive his parents
for bringing him into the world a cripple?"
The remorse of the unhappy father was very distressing,
and I was about to say a few kind words of sympathy when
Andre himself made his appearance. M. Letourneur has-
tened toward him and assisted him up the few steep steps
that led to the poop.
As soon as Andre was comfortably seated on one of the
benches, and his father had taken his place by his side, I
joined them, and we fell into conversation upon ordinary
topics, discussing the various points of the Chancellor, the
probable length of the passage, and the different details of
our life on board. I find that M. Letourneur's estimate of
Captain Huntly's character very much coincides with my
own, and that, like me, he is impressed with the man's un-
decided manner and sluggish appearance. Like me, too, he
has formed a very favorable opinion of Robert Curtis, the
mate, a man of about thirty years of age, of great muscular
power, with a frame and a will that seem ever ready for
action.
While we were still talking of him, Curtis himself came
on deck, and as I watched his movements I could not help
being struck with his physical development; his erect and
easy carriage, his fearless glance and slightly contracted
brow all betoken a man of energy, thoroughly endowed
with the calmness and courage that are indispensable to the
true sailor. He seems a kind-hearted fellow, too, and is al-
ways ready to assist and amuse young Letourneur, who evi-
dently enjoys his company. After he had scanned the
weather and examined the trim of the sails, he joined our
party and proceeded to give us some information about those
of our fellow-passengers with whom at present we have
made but slight acquaintance.
Mr. Kear, the American, who is accompanied by his wife,
has made a large fortune in the petroleum springs in the
United States. He is a man of about fifty, a most uninter-
esting companion, being overwhelmed with a sense of his
own wealth and importance, and consequently supremely
indifferent to all around him. His hands are always in his
pockets, and the chink of money seems to follow him
wherever he goes. Vain and conceited, a fool as well as an
egotist, he struts about like a peacock showing its plumage,
and to borrow the words of the physiognomist Gratiolet,
"il se flaire, il se savoure, il se goute." Why he should
have taken his passage on board a mere merchant vessel
instead of enjoying the luxuries of a transatlantic steamer,
I am altogether at a loss to explain.
The wife is an insignificant, insipid woman, of about
forty years of age. She never reads, never talks, and I
believe I am not wrong in saying, never thinks. She seems
to look without seeing, and listen without hearing, and her
sole occupation consists in giving her orders to her com-
panion, Miss Herbey, a young English girl of about twenty.
Miss Herbey is extremely pretty. Her complexion is
fair and her eyes deep blue, while her pleasing countenance
is altogether free from that insignificance of feature which
is not unfrequently alleged to be characteristic of English
beauty. Her mouth would be charming if she ever smiled,
but, exposed as she is to the ridiculous whims and fancies
of a capricious mistress, her lips rarely relax from their
ordinary grave expression. Yet, humiliating as her posi-
tion must be, she never utters a word of open complaint,
but quietly and gracefully performs her duties, accepting
without a murmur the paltry salary which the bumptious
petroleum-merchant condescends to allow her.
The Manchester engineer, William Falsten, looks like a
thorough Englishman. He has the management of some
extensive hydraulic works in South Carolina, and is now on
his way to Europe to obtain some improved apparatus, and
more especially to visit the mines worked by centrifugal
force, belonging to the firm of Messrs. Cail. He is forty-
five years of age, with all his interests so entirely absorbed
by his machinery that he seems to have neither a thought
nor a care beyond his mechanical calculations. Once let
him engage you in conversation, and there is no chance of
escape; you have no help for it but to listen as patiently
as you can until he has completed the explanation of his
designs.
The last of our fellow-passengers, Mr. Ruby, is the type
of a vulgar tradesman. Without any originality or
magnanimity in his composition, he has spent twenty years
of his life in mere buying and selling, and as he has gener-
ally contrived to do business at a profit, he has realized a
considerable fortune. What he is going to do with the
money, he does not seem able to say: his ideas do not go
beyond retail trade, his mind having been so long closed to
all other impressions that it appears incapable of thought
or reflection on any subject besides. Pascal says,
"L'homme est visiblement fait pour penser. C'est toute
sa dignite et tout son merite;" but to Mr. Ruby the phrase
seems altogether inapplicable.
CHAPTER V
AN UNUSUAL ROUTE
OCTOBER 7. -- This is the tenth day since we left Charles-
ton, and I should think our progress has been very rapid.
Robert Curtis, the mate, with whom I continue to have
many a friendly chat, informed me that we could not be far
off the Bermudas; the ship's bearings, he said, were lat.
32 deg. 20' N. and long. 64 deg. 50' W. so that he had every reason
to believe that we should sight St. George's Island before
night.
"The Bermudas!" I exclaimed. "But how is it we are
off the Bermudas? I should have thought that a vessel sail-
ing from Charleston to Liverpool, would have kept north-
ward, and have followed the track of the Gulf Stream."
"Yes, indeed, sir," replied Curtis, "that is the usual
course; but you see that this time the captain hasn't chosen
to take it."
"But why not?" I persisted.
"That's not for me to say, sir; he ordered us eastward,
and eastward we go."
"Haven't you called his attention to it?" I inquired.
Curtis acknowledged that he had already pointed out
what an unusual route they were taking, but that the cap-
tain had said that he was quite aware what he was about.
The mate made no further remark; but the knit of his brow,
as he passed his hand mechanically across his forehead,
made me fancy that he was inclined to speak out more
strongly.
"All very well, Curtis," I said, "but I don't know what
to think about trying new routes. Here we are at the 7th
of October, and if we are to reach Europe before the bad
weather sets in, I should suppose there is not a day to be
lost."
"Right, sir, quite right; there is not a day to be lost."
Struck by his manner, I ventured to add, "Do you mind,
Curtis, giving me your honest opinion of Captain Huntly?"
He hesitated a moment, and then replied shortly, "He is
my captain, sir."
This evasive answer of course put an end to any further
interrogation on my part.
Curtis was not mistaken. At about three o'clock the
look-out man sung out that there was land to windward,
and descried what seemed as if it might be a line of smoke
in the northeast horizon. At six, I went on deck with M.
Letourneur and his son, and we could then distinctly make
out the low group of the Bermudas, encircled by their
formidable chain of breakers.
"There," said Andre Letourneur to me, as we stood gaz-
ing at the distant land, "there lies the enchanted archipel-
ago, sung by your poet Moore. The exile Waller, too, as
long ago as 1643, wrote an enthusiastic panegyric on the
islands, and I have been told that at one time English ladies
would wear no other bonnets than such as were made of the
leaves of the Bermuda palm."
"Yes," I replied, "the Bermudas were all the rage in
the seventeenth century, although latterly they have fallen
into comparative oblivion."
"But let me tell you, M. Andre," interposed Curtis, who
had as usual joined our party, "that although poets may
rave, and be as enthusiastic as they like about these islands,
sailors will tell a different tale. The hidden reefs that lie
in a semicircle about two or three leagues from shore make
the attempt to land a very dangerous piece of business.
And another thing, I know. Let the natives boast as they
will about their splendid climate, they are visited by the
most frightful hurricanes. They get the fag-end of the
storms that rage over the Antilles; and the fag-end of a
storm is like the tail of a whale; it's just the strongest bit of
it. I don't think you'll find a sailor listening much to your
poets -- your Moores, and your Wallers."
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