“It will be good enough for me, sir.”
“My friend,” answered Harding, “we will not constrain you in anything. You wish to live at the corral, so be it.
You will, however, be always welcome at Granite House.
But since you wish to live at the corral we will make the necessary arrangements for your being comfortably established there.”
“Never mind that, I shall do very well.”
“My friend,” answered Harding, who always intentionally made use of this cordial appellation, “you must let us judge what it will be best to do in this respect.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied the stranger as he withdrew.
The engineer then made known to his companions the proposal which had been made to him, and it was agreed that they should build a wooden house at the corral, which they would make as comfortable as possible.
That very day the colonists repaired to the corral with the necessary tools, and a week had not passed before the house was ready to receive its tenant.
It was built about twenty feet from the sheds, and from there it was easy to overlook the flock of sheep, which then numbered more than eighty.
Some furniture, a bed, table, bench, cupboard, and chest were manufactured, and a gun, ammunition, and tools were carried to the corral.
The stranger, however, had seen nothing of his new dwelling, and he had allowed the settlers to work there without him, while he occupied himself on the plateau, wishing, doubtless, to put the finishing stroke to his work.
Indeed, thanks to him, all the ground was dug up and ready to be sowed when the time came.
It was on the 20th of December that all the arrangements at the corral were completed.
The engineer announced to the stranger that his dwelling was ready to receive him, and the latter replied that he would go and sleep there that very evening.
On this evening the colonists were gathered in the diningroom of Granite House.
It was then eight o’clock, the hour at which their companion was to leave them.
Not wishing to trouble him by their presence, and thus imposing on him the necessity of saying farewells which might perhaps be painful to him, they had left him alone and ascended to Granite House.
Now, they had been talking in the room for a few minutes, when a light knock was heard at the door.
Almost immediately the stranger entered, and without any preamble,—
“Gentlemen,” said he, “before I leave you, it is right that you should know my history.
I will tell it you.”
These simple words profoundly impressed Cyrus Harding and his companions.
The engineer rose.
“We ask you nothing, my friend,” said he; “it is your right to be silent.”
“It is my duty to speak.”
“Sit down, then.”
“No, I will stand.”
“We are ready to hear you,” replied Harding.
The stranger remained standing in a corner of the room, a little in the shade.
He was bareheaded, his arms folded across his chest, and it was in this posture that in a hoarse voice, speaking like some one who obliges himself to speak, he gave the following recital, which his auditors did not once interrupt:—
“On the 20th of December, 1854, a steam-yacht, belonging to a Scotch nobleman, Lord Glenarvan, anchored off Cape Bernouilli, on the western coast of Australia, in the thirty-seventh parallel.
On board this yacht were Lord Glenarvan and his wife, a major in the English army, a French geographer, a young girl, and a young boy.
These two last were the children of Captain Grant, whose ship, the
‘Britannia,’ had been lost, crew and cargo, a year before.
The
‘Duncan’ was commanded by Captain John Mangles, and manned by a crew of fifteen men.
“This is the reason the yacht at this time lay off the coast of Australia. Six months before, a bottle, enclosing a document written in English, German, and French, had been found in the Irish Sea, and picked up by the ‘Duncan.’
This document stated in substance that there still existed three survivors from the wreck of the ‘Britannia,’ that these survivors were Captain Grant and two of his men, and that they had found refuge on some land, of which the document gave the latitude, but of which the longitude, effaced by the sea, was no longer legible.
“This latitude was 37deg 11’ south; therefore, the longitude being unknown, if they followed the thirty-seventh parallel over continents and seas, they would be certain to reach the spot inhabited by Captain Grant and his two companions.
The English Admiralty having hesitated to undertake this search, Lord Glenarvan resolved to attempt everything to find the captain.
He communicated with Mary and Robert Grant, who joined him.
The
‘Duncan’ yacht was equipped for the distant voyage, in which the nobleman’s family and the captain’s children wished to take part, and the
‘Duncan,’ leaving Glasgow, proceeded towards the Atlantic, passed through the Straits of Magellan, and ascended the Pacific as far as Patagonia, where, according to a previous interpretation of the document, they supposed that Captain Grant was a prisoner among the Indians.
“The ‘Duncan’ disembarked her passengers on the western coast of Patagonia, and sailed to pick them up again on the eastern coast at Cape Corrientes.
Lord Glenarvan traversed Patagonia, following the thirty-seventh parallel, and having found no trace of the captain, he re-embarked on the 13th of November, so as to pursue his search through the Ocean.
“After having unsuccessfully visited the islands of Tristan d’Acunha and Amsterdam, situated in her course, the
‘Duncan,’ as I have said, arrived at Cape Bernouilli, on the Australian coast, on the 20th of December, 1854.
“It was Lord Glenarvan’s intention to traverse Australia as he had traversed America, and he disembarked.