A long howl of pain replied to the detonation, and Dingo disappeared between the double row of bushes that bordered the brook.
Negoro descended at once to the bottom of the bank.
Drops of blood stained some of the papyrus stems, and a long red track was left on the pebbles of the brook.
"At last that cursed animal is paid off!" exclaimed Negoro.
Harris had been present at this whole scene without saying a word.
"Ah now, Negoro," said he, "that dog had a particular grudge against you."
"It seemed so, Harris, but it will have a grudge against me no longer!"
"And why did it detest you so much, comrade?"
"Oh! an old affair to settle between it and me."
"An old affair?" replied Harris.
Negoro said no more about it, and Harris concluded that the Portuguese had been silent on some past adventure, but he did not insist on knowing it.
A few moments later, both, descending the course of the brook, went toward the Coanza, across the forest. * * * * *
CHAPTER III.
ON THE MARCH.
Africa!
That name so terrible under the present circumstances, that name which he must now substitute for that of America, was not for an instant out of Dick Sand's thoughts.
When the young novice traced back the last weeks, it was to ask himself how the
"Pilgrim" had ended by reaching this dangerous shore, how it had doubled Cape Horn, and passed from one ocean to the other!
He could now explain to himself why, in spite of the rapid motion of his vessel, land was so long coming in sight, because the length of the distance which he should have made to reach the American coast had been doubled without his knowledge.
"Africa!
Africa!" Dick Sand repeated.
Then, suddenly, while he called up with tenacious mind all the incidents of this inexplicable voyage, he felt that his compass must have been injured.
He remembered, too, that the first compass had been broken, and that the log-line had snapped—a fact which had made it impossible for him to establish the speed of the "Pilgrim."
"Yes," thought he, "there remained but one compass on board, one only, the indications of which I could not control!
And one night I was awakened by a cry from old Tom. Negoro was there, aft. He had just fallen on the binnacle. May he not have put it out of order?"
Dick Sand was growing enlightened.
He had his finger on the truth.
He now understood all that was ambiguous in Negoro's conduct.
He saw his hand in this chain of incidents which had led to the loss of the
"Pilgrim," and had so fearfully endangered those on board of her.
But what, then, was this miserable man?
Had he been a sailor and known so well how to hide the fact?
Was he capable of contriving this odious plot which had thrown the ship on the coast of Africa?
At any rate, if obscure points still existed in the past, the present could offer no more of them.
The young novice knew only too well that he was in Africa, and very probably in the fatal province of Angola, more than a hundred miles from the coast. He also knew that Harris's treason could no longer be doubted.
From this fact, the most simple logic led him to conclude that the American and the Portuguese had long known each other, that a fatal chance had united them on this coast, and that a plan had been concerted between them, the result of which would be dreadful for the survivors of the
"Pilgrim."
And now, why these odious actions?
That Negoro wished, at all hazards, to seize Tom and his companions, and sell them for slaves in this slave-trading country, might be admitted.
That the Portuguese, moved by a sentiment of hatred, would seek to be revenged on him, Dick Sand, who had treated him as he deserved, might also be conceived.
But Mrs. Weldon, this mother, and this young child—what would the wretch do with them?
If Dick Sand could have overheard a little of the conversation between Harris and Negoro, he would have known what to expect, and what dangers menaced Mrs. Weldon, the blacks, and himself.
The situation was frightful, but the young novice did not yield under it.
Captain on board, he remained captain on land.
He must save Mrs. Weldon, little Jack, all those whose fate Heaven had placed in his hands.
His task was only commencing.
He would accomplish it to the end.
After two or three hours, during which the present and the future were summed up in his mind, with their good and their evil chances—the last, alas! the most numerous—Dick Sand rose, firm and resolved.
The first glimmer of light then touched the summits of the forest.
With the exception of the novice and Tom, all slept.