Chapter Forty Seven.The escape of the kite.The joy, which all felt at the miraculous escape of Ossaroo, more than compensated for their chagrin at the circumstance of the kite having returned to them: more especially, as they believed that the accident was not without remedy. It might be attributed to the wind: which no doubt had lifted the kite from where it lay, detaching it from the rock, or whatever other object that had for the time entangled it.They doubted not, but that they might again succeed in sending it up, and getting it fast as before; and this confidence hindered them from grieving over the unfortunate occurrence, as they might otherwise have done.As the wind on that day was in the wrong quarter for flying a kite towards the cliff, they determined to postpone the attempt, till a more favourable opportunity; and, in order that their kite should not be in danger of getting spoiled by the rain, they once more shouldered, and carried it back, rope and all, to the shelter of the hut.Nearly a week elapsed, before there was a breeze that blew in their favour; but during this interval, they had not been altogether unemployed. Still uncertain of the length of time they might be detained in the valley, they had passed almost every hour of the daylight in increasing their stock of provisions—so as not to encroach upon the cured venison of the ibex, of which a considerable quantity was still to the good.Their guns were no longer used for procuring food. The last loads still remained in the barrels; and were not to be fired off—until every other means of capturing game should fail them.Indeed, they were now so confident of being able to get out of their prison, that at times they almost fancied themselves already on their way down the mountains; and talked of keeping their guns loaded, against any danger from large animals they might encounter on their homeward journey. For procuring food they knew that firearms were not necessary. Ossaroo’s bow was sufficient weapon for that. Often might it be heard twanging among the trees; and as often did the shikaree’s arrow pierce the breast of some fine bird—a peacock, or argus pheasant, or one of the beautiful Brahminy geese that frequented the waters of the lake.Ossaroo’s nets and lines, too, were not without their use. Fish were caught of various kinds, and excellent quality; and there was one sort in particular, should all else fail, that promised to furnish them with an inexhaustible supply. This was a large species of eel, in which the lake abounded, to such an extent, that it was only necessary to cast in a hook, with a worm upon it, and an eel of nearly six feet in length would be instantly landed.As they did not always relish to dine upon eels, but little of their time was spent in procuring them. For all that, they were gratified on discovering the abundance of these slippery creatures—knowing that, should other resources fail, they would find in them a staple article of wholesome food, that could never become scarce, no matter how much they should eat of it.A favourable wind at length came on to blow; and the kite was once more shouldered, and carried to the same place as before. Just in the same way did they proceed to fly it; and in the same style it again rose soaring above the cliff; and—the cord having been suddenly slacked—sank to rest upon the slope of the mountain.So far were they once more successful; but alas! it proved to be just so far and no farther.Pulling upon the rope, to ascertain whether their anchor had “bit,” they were chagrined to receive an answer in the negative. The cord came back to them with scarce any resistance; or only such, as was caused by friction over the edge of the cliff, and by the drag of the kite itself along the snowy surface.Hand over hand, they drew it back: foot by foot, and yard by yard, it came yieldingly towards them—until they saw the broad curving breast of the pseudo-bird projecting over the parapet edge of the precipice!Once more was it launched out into the air; once more was rope given it, till it had ascended to the full length of its tether; and once more was it allowed to alight.Again the pull downward and inward—again the cord came freely to hand—and again was the rounded bow seen upon the brow of the precipice, and outlined against the blue sky above; not like the beautiful bow of the iris—a thing of promise—but one of disappointment and chagrin.Again the flight—again the failure—again and again; until the patience of the operators—to say nothing of their strength—was well nigh exhausted.But it was no mere play for the sake of pastime. They were not flying that kite for their amusement; nor yet for the purpose of making some scientific experiment. They were flying it as a means of obtaining their personal liberty; and they were all of them interested in the success or failure of the attempt—almost as much as if their lives rested on the issue.However tried their strength, or worn out their patience, it would not do to give up; and therefore—although at each unsuccessful effort, with hopes constantly becoming diminished—they continued their exertions.For more than a score of times they had sent up the kite, and as often dragged it back to the brow of the cliff; not always at the same point: for they had themselves changed their ground, and tried the flight in different places.In all cases, the result was the same. The bird refused to take hold with its claws—either on rocks, or blocks of ice, or banks of frozen snow—all of which lay scatter over the slope of the mountain.Considering that it had caught hold on the very first trial, so many failures were regarded by our adventurers with some surprise. Had it never held, there would have been no cause for this; and after so many attempts, they would have been the more inclined to yield up their plan, deeming it impracticable. But the fact of their first success sustained them in the hope that success might again be obtained; and, in this belief, they were encouraged to “keep on trying.”Half a dozen additional flights were made, but fortune still declining to favour them, they desisted from their efforts, leaving the paper-bird with its breast protruding over the cliff: as if perched there in preparation for a further flight.By this time the kite had become sadly damaged—itsplumagehaving received rough usage by constant trailing over the rocks and sharp angles of ice. While up in the air, daylight could be seen shining through it in several places; and it no longer exhibited that majesty of flight that had originally characterised it. It was evident that repairs would soon be needed; and to discuss this question, as also to consider the propriety of proceeding to make trial at some other place, our adventurers, for a time, discontinued their efforts.All three were standing together, but at several paces distant from the end of the rope; which they had for the moment abandoned, and which lay negligently along the ground.They had not taken the slightest precaution to secure it: for it had not occurred to them that there was any risk in leaving it loose.It was only when too late, that they perceived the mistake they had committed—only when they saw the cord suddenly jerked up from the ground, as if some invisible hand was lifting it aloft into the sky!All three rushed towards it at the same instant. They were too late. Already the end of the rope was dangling at such a height above their heads, that even the tallest of them could not touch it with the tips of his fingers.Ossaroo leaped high into the air in an endeavour to clutch the string. Caspar ran to procure a pole which lay near, in hopes of retaining it in that way: while Karl ran up the ladder that was resting against the cliff, near which the rope was yet trailing.The efforts of all three were alike vain. For a second or two, the end of the cord hung oscillating above their heads—just sufficiently out of reach to tantalise them; and then, as if the invisible hand above had given it another gigantic jerk, it was drawn rapidly and vertically upward, till it finally disappeared over the crest of the cliff!
The joy, which all felt at the miraculous escape of Ossaroo, more than compensated for their chagrin at the circumstance of the kite having returned to them: more especially, as they believed that the accident was not without remedy. It might be attributed to the wind: which no doubt had lifted the kite from where it lay, detaching it from the rock, or whatever other object that had for the time entangled it.
They doubted not, but that they might again succeed in sending it up, and getting it fast as before; and this confidence hindered them from grieving over the unfortunate occurrence, as they might otherwise have done.
As the wind on that day was in the wrong quarter for flying a kite towards the cliff, they determined to postpone the attempt, till a more favourable opportunity; and, in order that their kite should not be in danger of getting spoiled by the rain, they once more shouldered, and carried it back, rope and all, to the shelter of the hut.
Nearly a week elapsed, before there was a breeze that blew in their favour; but during this interval, they had not been altogether unemployed. Still uncertain of the length of time they might be detained in the valley, they had passed almost every hour of the daylight in increasing their stock of provisions—so as not to encroach upon the cured venison of the ibex, of which a considerable quantity was still to the good.
Their guns were no longer used for procuring food. The last loads still remained in the barrels; and were not to be fired off—until every other means of capturing game should fail them.
Indeed, they were now so confident of being able to get out of their prison, that at times they almost fancied themselves already on their way down the mountains; and talked of keeping their guns loaded, against any danger from large animals they might encounter on their homeward journey. For procuring food they knew that firearms were not necessary. Ossaroo’s bow was sufficient weapon for that. Often might it be heard twanging among the trees; and as often did the shikaree’s arrow pierce the breast of some fine bird—a peacock, or argus pheasant, or one of the beautiful Brahminy geese that frequented the waters of the lake.
Ossaroo’s nets and lines, too, were not without their use. Fish were caught of various kinds, and excellent quality; and there was one sort in particular, should all else fail, that promised to furnish them with an inexhaustible supply. This was a large species of eel, in which the lake abounded, to such an extent, that it was only necessary to cast in a hook, with a worm upon it, and an eel of nearly six feet in length would be instantly landed.
As they did not always relish to dine upon eels, but little of their time was spent in procuring them. For all that, they were gratified on discovering the abundance of these slippery creatures—knowing that, should other resources fail, they would find in them a staple article of wholesome food, that could never become scarce, no matter how much they should eat of it.
A favourable wind at length came on to blow; and the kite was once more shouldered, and carried to the same place as before. Just in the same way did they proceed to fly it; and in the same style it again rose soaring above the cliff; and—the cord having been suddenly slacked—sank to rest upon the slope of the mountain.
So far were they once more successful; but alas! it proved to be just so far and no farther.
Pulling upon the rope, to ascertain whether their anchor had “bit,” they were chagrined to receive an answer in the negative. The cord came back to them with scarce any resistance; or only such, as was caused by friction over the edge of the cliff, and by the drag of the kite itself along the snowy surface.
Hand over hand, they drew it back: foot by foot, and yard by yard, it came yieldingly towards them—until they saw the broad curving breast of the pseudo-bird projecting over the parapet edge of the precipice!
Once more was it launched out into the air; once more was rope given it, till it had ascended to the full length of its tether; and once more was it allowed to alight.
Again the pull downward and inward—again the cord came freely to hand—and again was the rounded bow seen upon the brow of the precipice, and outlined against the blue sky above; not like the beautiful bow of the iris—a thing of promise—but one of disappointment and chagrin.
Again the flight—again the failure—again and again; until the patience of the operators—to say nothing of their strength—was well nigh exhausted.
But it was no mere play for the sake of pastime. They were not flying that kite for their amusement; nor yet for the purpose of making some scientific experiment. They were flying it as a means of obtaining their personal liberty; and they were all of them interested in the success or failure of the attempt—almost as much as if their lives rested on the issue.
However tried their strength, or worn out their patience, it would not do to give up; and therefore—although at each unsuccessful effort, with hopes constantly becoming diminished—they continued their exertions.
For more than a score of times they had sent up the kite, and as often dragged it back to the brow of the cliff; not always at the same point: for they had themselves changed their ground, and tried the flight in different places.
In all cases, the result was the same. The bird refused to take hold with its claws—either on rocks, or blocks of ice, or banks of frozen snow—all of which lay scatter over the slope of the mountain.
Considering that it had caught hold on the very first trial, so many failures were regarded by our adventurers with some surprise. Had it never held, there would have been no cause for this; and after so many attempts, they would have been the more inclined to yield up their plan, deeming it impracticable. But the fact of their first success sustained them in the hope that success might again be obtained; and, in this belief, they were encouraged to “keep on trying.”
Half a dozen additional flights were made, but fortune still declining to favour them, they desisted from their efforts, leaving the paper-bird with its breast protruding over the cliff: as if perched there in preparation for a further flight.
By this time the kite had become sadly damaged—itsplumagehaving received rough usage by constant trailing over the rocks and sharp angles of ice. While up in the air, daylight could be seen shining through it in several places; and it no longer exhibited that majesty of flight that had originally characterised it. It was evident that repairs would soon be needed; and to discuss this question, as also to consider the propriety of proceeding to make trial at some other place, our adventurers, for a time, discontinued their efforts.
All three were standing together, but at several paces distant from the end of the rope; which they had for the moment abandoned, and which lay negligently along the ground.
They had not taken the slightest precaution to secure it: for it had not occurred to them that there was any risk in leaving it loose.
It was only when too late, that they perceived the mistake they had committed—only when they saw the cord suddenly jerked up from the ground, as if some invisible hand was lifting it aloft into the sky!
All three rushed towards it at the same instant. They were too late. Already the end of the rope was dangling at such a height above their heads, that even the tallest of them could not touch it with the tips of his fingers.
Ossaroo leaped high into the air in an endeavour to clutch the string. Caspar ran to procure a pole which lay near, in hopes of retaining it in that way: while Karl ran up the ladder that was resting against the cliff, near which the rope was yet trailing.
The efforts of all three were alike vain. For a second or two, the end of the cord hung oscillating above their heads—just sufficiently out of reach to tantalise them; and then, as if the invisible hand above had given it another gigantic jerk, it was drawn rapidly and vertically upward, till it finally disappeared over the crest of the cliff!
Chapter Forty Eight.No more paper-trees!There was nothing mysterious in the disappearance of the cord. The kite was no longer visible on the summit of the cliff. The wind had carried it away; and, of course, its rope along with it.When the first moment of surprise had passed, our adventurers turned towards each other with glances that spoke something more than disappointment. Notwithstanding the number of times that the kite had failed to fix itself, still it had once taken a fast hold, and it was but reasonable to suppose it would have done so again. Besides, there were other places where the precipice was as low, and even lower, than where they had made the trials; and at some of these they might have been more successful. Indeed, there was every probability that, had they not lost that kite, they would have been able in due time to have climbed out of their rock-bound prison by a ladder of rope; but now all chance of doing so was gone for ever—swept off by a single puff of wind.You may be fancying, that the misfortune was not irremediable. Another kite, you will be saying, might be constructed out of similar materials as those used in making the one carried away. But to say this, would be to speak without a full knowledge of the circumstances.The same thought had already passed through the minds of our adventurers, when they perceived that the kite they were flying was getting torn and otherwise damaged.“We can easily make another,” suggested Caspar at that crisis.“No, brother,” was the answer of Karl; “never another, I fear. We have paper enough left to patch this one; but not enough to make another.”“But we can make more paper, can we not?” urged Caspar, interrogatively.“Ah!” again replied Karl, with a negative shake of the head, “no more—not another sheet!”“But why? Do you think there are no more daphne trees?”“I think there are not. You remember we stripped all there were in the thicket; and since then, thinking we might need more bark, I have gone all through the valley, and explored it in every direction, without meeting with a single shrub of the daphne. I am almost certain there are none.”This conversation between the brothers had occurred, long before the losing of the kite. When that event came to pass, it was not necessary for them to repeat it; and, both being thus acquainted with the fact that it was impossible for them to construct another, they felt that they had sustained an irreparable loss.In what direction had the kite been carried off? Might it not be blown along the line of cliffs, and tossed back again into the valley?As there appeared some probability that such a chance might arise, all three ran outward from the rocks—in order to command a better view of the precipice, on each side.For a long time they stood watching—in hopes that they might see the great paper-bird returning to the scene of its nativity. But it never came back; and they became at length convinced, that it never would. Indeed, the direction of the wind—when they paused to consider it—rendered the thing not only improbable, but impossible. It was blowingfromthe cliffs, andtowardsthe snowy ridge. No doubt the kite had been carried up the sloping acclivity; and had either passed clear over the mountains, or become lodged in some deep defile, where the wind could no longer reach it. At all events, it was certain, that both kite and cord were lost to them for ever.“Ach! how very unfortunate!” exclaimed Caspar, in a vexed tone, when they had finally arrived at this conviction. “What ill-starred luck we have, to be sure!”“Nay! brother,” remarked Karl, in a tone of reproval; “do not chide Fortune for what has happened just now. I acknowledge it is a great misfortune; but it is one for which we may justly blame ourselves, and only ourselves. By sheer negligence we have lost the kite, and along with it, perhaps, the last chance of regaining our liberty.”“Yes, you speak truly,” rejoined Caspar, in a tone of mingled regret and resignation. “Itwasour fault, and we must suffer for it.”“But are you quite sure, brother Karl,” resumed he, after a pause, and referring to the conversation that had already passed between them—“are you quite sure there are no more of these paper-bearing trees?”“Of course,” replied the plant-hunter, “I am not positive—though I fear it is as I have said—that there are no more. It will be easy for us to determine the point, by making a complete exploration of the valley. It may be that something else might turn up which would answer the purpose equally as well. There is a birch-tree indigenous to the Himalaya mountains, found both in Nepaul and Thibet. Its bark can be stripped off in broad flakes and layers, to the number of eight or ten—each almost as thin as common paper, and suitable for many purposes to which paper is usually applied.”“Do you think it would do for a kite?” inquired Caspar, without waiting for Karl to finish his explanation.“I am sure of it,” replied the botanist. “It would serve even better than the daphne paper; and had I believed there was a chance of finding it here, I should have preferred it to that. But I do not think we shall find it. I have observed no species of birch; and I know that this one, like most of theBetulaceae, affects a much colder climate than there is in this valley. Likely enough, it grows on the mountains above; but there it is out of our reach. Could we reach it there, we should not need to be robbing it of its manifold envelope. But let us not despair,” added Karl, endeavouring to appear cheerful; “perhaps it may be found growing down here; or, if not, we may still find another grove of the daphne trees. Let us proceed on and search!”Karl was far from being sanguine in either conjecture; and it was as well for him that he was not: for after a minute and careful exploration of the valley—which occupied nearly three whole days—neither the wished-for birch, nor the desired daphne trees—nor any other material out of which a kite might be manufactured—rewarded their search.It was of no use, therefore, to think any longer of a kite; and the subject was at length dismissed from their minds.
There was nothing mysterious in the disappearance of the cord. The kite was no longer visible on the summit of the cliff. The wind had carried it away; and, of course, its rope along with it.
When the first moment of surprise had passed, our adventurers turned towards each other with glances that spoke something more than disappointment. Notwithstanding the number of times that the kite had failed to fix itself, still it had once taken a fast hold, and it was but reasonable to suppose it would have done so again. Besides, there were other places where the precipice was as low, and even lower, than where they had made the trials; and at some of these they might have been more successful. Indeed, there was every probability that, had they not lost that kite, they would have been able in due time to have climbed out of their rock-bound prison by a ladder of rope; but now all chance of doing so was gone for ever—swept off by a single puff of wind.
You may be fancying, that the misfortune was not irremediable. Another kite, you will be saying, might be constructed out of similar materials as those used in making the one carried away. But to say this, would be to speak without a full knowledge of the circumstances.
The same thought had already passed through the minds of our adventurers, when they perceived that the kite they were flying was getting torn and otherwise damaged.
“We can easily make another,” suggested Caspar at that crisis.
“No, brother,” was the answer of Karl; “never another, I fear. We have paper enough left to patch this one; but not enough to make another.”
“But we can make more paper, can we not?” urged Caspar, interrogatively.
“Ah!” again replied Karl, with a negative shake of the head, “no more—not another sheet!”
“But why? Do you think there are no more daphne trees?”
“I think there are not. You remember we stripped all there were in the thicket; and since then, thinking we might need more bark, I have gone all through the valley, and explored it in every direction, without meeting with a single shrub of the daphne. I am almost certain there are none.”
This conversation between the brothers had occurred, long before the losing of the kite. When that event came to pass, it was not necessary for them to repeat it; and, both being thus acquainted with the fact that it was impossible for them to construct another, they felt that they had sustained an irreparable loss.
In what direction had the kite been carried off? Might it not be blown along the line of cliffs, and tossed back again into the valley?
As there appeared some probability that such a chance might arise, all three ran outward from the rocks—in order to command a better view of the precipice, on each side.
For a long time they stood watching—in hopes that they might see the great paper-bird returning to the scene of its nativity. But it never came back; and they became at length convinced, that it never would. Indeed, the direction of the wind—when they paused to consider it—rendered the thing not only improbable, but impossible. It was blowingfromthe cliffs, andtowardsthe snowy ridge. No doubt the kite had been carried up the sloping acclivity; and had either passed clear over the mountains, or become lodged in some deep defile, where the wind could no longer reach it. At all events, it was certain, that both kite and cord were lost to them for ever.
“Ach! how very unfortunate!” exclaimed Caspar, in a vexed tone, when they had finally arrived at this conviction. “What ill-starred luck we have, to be sure!”
“Nay! brother,” remarked Karl, in a tone of reproval; “do not chide Fortune for what has happened just now. I acknowledge it is a great misfortune; but it is one for which we may justly blame ourselves, and only ourselves. By sheer negligence we have lost the kite, and along with it, perhaps, the last chance of regaining our liberty.”
“Yes, you speak truly,” rejoined Caspar, in a tone of mingled regret and resignation. “Itwasour fault, and we must suffer for it.”
“But are you quite sure, brother Karl,” resumed he, after a pause, and referring to the conversation that had already passed between them—“are you quite sure there are no more of these paper-bearing trees?”
“Of course,” replied the plant-hunter, “I am not positive—though I fear it is as I have said—that there are no more. It will be easy for us to determine the point, by making a complete exploration of the valley. It may be that something else might turn up which would answer the purpose equally as well. There is a birch-tree indigenous to the Himalaya mountains, found both in Nepaul and Thibet. Its bark can be stripped off in broad flakes and layers, to the number of eight or ten—each almost as thin as common paper, and suitable for many purposes to which paper is usually applied.”
“Do you think it would do for a kite?” inquired Caspar, without waiting for Karl to finish his explanation.
“I am sure of it,” replied the botanist. “It would serve even better than the daphne paper; and had I believed there was a chance of finding it here, I should have preferred it to that. But I do not think we shall find it. I have observed no species of birch; and I know that this one, like most of theBetulaceae, affects a much colder climate than there is in this valley. Likely enough, it grows on the mountains above; but there it is out of our reach. Could we reach it there, we should not need to be robbing it of its manifold envelope. But let us not despair,” added Karl, endeavouring to appear cheerful; “perhaps it may be found growing down here; or, if not, we may still find another grove of the daphne trees. Let us proceed on and search!”
Karl was far from being sanguine in either conjecture; and it was as well for him that he was not: for after a minute and careful exploration of the valley—which occupied nearly three whole days—neither the wished-for birch, nor the desired daphne trees—nor any other material out of which a kite might be manufactured—rewarded their search.
It was of no use, therefore, to think any longer of a kite; and the subject was at length dismissed from their minds.
Chapter Forty Nine.Aerostatics.It is scarce possible to talk of a paper kite, without thinking of that other and greater aerostatic contrivance—a balloon.Karl had thought of it, long before this time; and so had Caspar, just as long: for the kite had suggested it simultaneously to the minds of both.It may be asked why they had not entertained the thought, and endeavoured to carry it into practical effect: since a balloon would have been far more likely to have delivered them out of their “mountain prison” than a paper kite?But theyhadentertained the thought—at least, Karl had done so—and examined it in all its bearings. Caspar had permitted it to pass out of his mind, under the impression thatthey could not make a balloon; and Karl had arrived at the same conclusion; but only from a belief that theyhad not the materialswith which to make one. Given the materials, Karl felt quite equal to the construction of a balloon—a rude one, it is true; but one which might have served the purpose for which they required it.During the days when they had been occupied in making the paper-bird, he had given his thoughts a good deal to this subject; for, to say the truth, he had never been very sanguine about the success of the kite experiment. He had pondered long and patiently on the subject of balloons—endeavouring to recall to mind what little he had studied of aerostatics—and had mentally examined all the material objects within reach, in the hope of discovering some substance out of which one might be constructed.Unfortunately, he had not been able to think of anything that appeared to be suitable. The daphne paper—even had it been in abundance—would not do: for paper of itself, however close in texture, is not strong enough to withstand the pressure of the outside air—that is, in a balloon of sufficient size to carry any considerable weight. But it was of no use to talk of paper: since there was not enough; and Karl had given over thinking of a balloon: because there was nothing within reach likely to serve for its construction.He knew that that great sphere would require to be air-proof. He had thought of the skins of animals; but such of these as might have been obtained in sufficient quantity, were entirely too thick and heavy to make the covering of a balloon. The hemp, of which therewasan abundance, might be woven into a cloth, and then coated over by gum obtained from some tree; for in the valley were several species of gum-exuding trees. But the question was, could they manufacture a cloth out of hemp that would be light enough when thus coated over? It was very doubtful whether they could—at all events they would have to practise the weaving trade for a long time, before they should arrive at a sufficient expertness to accomplish such a feat. The plan was too unpromising to be seriously entertained; and Karl had dismissed it, along with the whole subject of the balloon.That had been previous to the experiment of the kite, and its unfortunate ending. But now that all hope from this quarter had been brought to an end, the balloon once more began to shape itself in his mind, as well as in that of Caspar; and for the first time they proceeded to talk over the subject together.“Cords we could have in plenty,” remarked Caspar, “but they’d be of no use, without the stuff to cover the great globe. They make it of silk, don’t they?”“Yes,” replied Karl, “silk is the best material for the purpose.”“And why?” inquired Caspar.“Because it combines the three properties of lightness, strength, and closeness of texture, in a greater degree than any other known substance.”“Would nothing else do?”“Oh, yes; many things would answer to make a balloon, that might carry up a certain amount of weight. Even a paper balloon can be constructed to take up a few pounds—a cat, or a small dog; and people in many countries have been cruel enough to dispatch such creatures into the air, not caring what became of them.”“Very cruel indeed!” assented Caspar, who, although a hunter, was far from having an unfeeling heart. “Such people should be sent up themselves in paper balloons.”“Yes, if paper balloons would carry them; which, unfortunately for us, they wouldn’t. Even if we had an unlimited supply of paper, it would be of no use to us. We require something stronger, and more tenacious.”“Can we not think of something? Let us try, Karl!”“Ah! dear brother, I have been trying for days, and in vain. There is nothing within this valley at all suitable for the purpose.”“Would canvas do? Have you thought of that?”“I have. It would be too coarse and heavy.”“But, with great pains, could we not make it light enough? We might choose the finer fibres of the hemp; and spin and weave it with scrupulous care. Ossaroo here is a perfect Omphale in his way. I’ll warrant he could beat Hercules with the distaff.”“Ho! brother!” exclaimed Karl, a little astonished. “You are quite classical in your speech this morning. Where learnt you the history of Hercules—you who have never seen the inside of a university?”“You forget, brother Karl, that you yourself have been my instructor in these classical themes, as you call them. Though I must tell you that, with the exception of their occasionally lending a little ornament to my speech, I have derived not the slightest advantage from them; nor is it likely I ever shall.”“Well, Caspar,” answered the botanist, “I am not going to stand up for the classics, as you are well aware. Although I have taught you a little of their lore, it was when I had nothing to do, and you were equally idle; otherwise I should have considered that both of us were wasting time. You already know my opinions on that subject—which are: that a knowledge of what is usually termed ‘the classics’ is of about as much use to a reasoning man as might be an equally profound knowledge of Chinesemnemonics. The time I have spent in the study of thedeadlanguages has been sheer waste; and all I have learnt wont raise us a foot higher here. My knowledge of Jupiter and Juno is not likely to gain us the means of getting out of our difficulty, no more than my acquaintance with Mercury will help me to a pair of wings. So a truce to classical ideas, and let us see whether scientific ones may not serve us better just now. You have a quick invention, brother Caspar; can you think of anything—I mean anything within our reach—that would make the air-bag of a balloon?”“But could you make the balloon, if you had the stuff?” inquired Caspar, still in doubt whether any other than an experienced aeronaut could construct so wonderful a machine.“Pooh!” replied the philosopher, “the making of a balloon is almost as easy as making a soap-bubble. Any air-tight bag, filled with heated atmosphere, becomes a balloon. The question is, what weight it can be made to carry—including the materials out of which it may be constructed.”“But how are you to get the heated air into it?”“Simply by making a fire under an aperture left open below.”“But would not this air soon become cold again?”“Yes; and then the balloon would sink back to the earth from the air inside getting cooled, and becoming as heavy as that without. Of course,” continued the philosopher, “you are aware that heated air is much lighter than the ordinary atmosphere; and that is why a balloon filled with the former, rises, and will continue rising, till it has reached that elevation, where the rarefied atmosphere is as light as the heated air. Then it can go no further, and the weight of the balloon itself will bring it down again. A bladder of ordinary air sunk in water, or a corked bottle, will illustrate this point to your comprehension.”“I comprehend it well enough,” rejoined Karl, rather piqued at being treated too muchà l’enfantby his learned brother. “But I thought that, in a balloon, it was necessary to keep a fire constantly burning—a sort of grate or fire-basket suspended below. Now, even if we had the silk to make the great spherical bag, how could we make a fire-basket without iron?”“We should not need the fire-basket you speak of. That is only required, when you design to keep your balloon some length of time in the air. If you only wish to make a short ascent, once filling the bag with hot air is sufficient; as it would be for us here. Even if we wanted a suspended grate, surely, brother, you have enough ingenuity to get over such a trifling difficulty as that?”“Well, I’m not so sure that I could. How would you get over it?”“Why, by making a common basket, and lining it with clay. That would carry fire, as well as a vessel of either cast or wrought iron—at least sufficient to serve for a short excursion such as we should care to make. Now-a-days, fire is not used for inflating balloons. Inflammable gas has been found to be far superior for this purpose; but as we have no such thing in stock, we should have to proceed on the old original plan—that employed by the brothers Montgolfier—the first inventors of the balloon.”“You think, then, that the fire apparatus could be dispensed with, if we could only discover some material that would make the great globe-shaped bag to contain the heated air?”“Ay,” replied Karl; “think of something to do that, and I promise to make you a balloon.”Thus challenged, Caspar set his wits to work; and for a long while he sat in silence, as if buried in some very profound speculation. Probably, there was no material substance in that valley that did not pass in review before the retina of his mental vision; and all were considered in turn.“It must be light, air-tight, and strong?” asked he, at length, as if there was something in his thoughts possessing these three requisites.“Light, air-tight, and strong,” answered Karl, simply repeating his words.“The two last I am sure of,” rejoined Caspar. “Of the first only have I my doubts.”“What is it?” asked Karl, in a tone that betrayed his interest in what Caspar had said.“Eel-skins!” was the laconic answer.
It is scarce possible to talk of a paper kite, without thinking of that other and greater aerostatic contrivance—a balloon.
Karl had thought of it, long before this time; and so had Caspar, just as long: for the kite had suggested it simultaneously to the minds of both.
It may be asked why they had not entertained the thought, and endeavoured to carry it into practical effect: since a balloon would have been far more likely to have delivered them out of their “mountain prison” than a paper kite?
But theyhadentertained the thought—at least, Karl had done so—and examined it in all its bearings. Caspar had permitted it to pass out of his mind, under the impression thatthey could not make a balloon; and Karl had arrived at the same conclusion; but only from a belief that theyhad not the materialswith which to make one. Given the materials, Karl felt quite equal to the construction of a balloon—a rude one, it is true; but one which might have served the purpose for which they required it.
During the days when they had been occupied in making the paper-bird, he had given his thoughts a good deal to this subject; for, to say the truth, he had never been very sanguine about the success of the kite experiment. He had pondered long and patiently on the subject of balloons—endeavouring to recall to mind what little he had studied of aerostatics—and had mentally examined all the material objects within reach, in the hope of discovering some substance out of which one might be constructed.
Unfortunately, he had not been able to think of anything that appeared to be suitable. The daphne paper—even had it been in abundance—would not do: for paper of itself, however close in texture, is not strong enough to withstand the pressure of the outside air—that is, in a balloon of sufficient size to carry any considerable weight. But it was of no use to talk of paper: since there was not enough; and Karl had given over thinking of a balloon: because there was nothing within reach likely to serve for its construction.
He knew that that great sphere would require to be air-proof. He had thought of the skins of animals; but such of these as might have been obtained in sufficient quantity, were entirely too thick and heavy to make the covering of a balloon. The hemp, of which therewasan abundance, might be woven into a cloth, and then coated over by gum obtained from some tree; for in the valley were several species of gum-exuding trees. But the question was, could they manufacture a cloth out of hemp that would be light enough when thus coated over? It was very doubtful whether they could—at all events they would have to practise the weaving trade for a long time, before they should arrive at a sufficient expertness to accomplish such a feat. The plan was too unpromising to be seriously entertained; and Karl had dismissed it, along with the whole subject of the balloon.
That had been previous to the experiment of the kite, and its unfortunate ending. But now that all hope from this quarter had been brought to an end, the balloon once more began to shape itself in his mind, as well as in that of Caspar; and for the first time they proceeded to talk over the subject together.
“Cords we could have in plenty,” remarked Caspar, “but they’d be of no use, without the stuff to cover the great globe. They make it of silk, don’t they?”
“Yes,” replied Karl, “silk is the best material for the purpose.”
“And why?” inquired Caspar.
“Because it combines the three properties of lightness, strength, and closeness of texture, in a greater degree than any other known substance.”
“Would nothing else do?”
“Oh, yes; many things would answer to make a balloon, that might carry up a certain amount of weight. Even a paper balloon can be constructed to take up a few pounds—a cat, or a small dog; and people in many countries have been cruel enough to dispatch such creatures into the air, not caring what became of them.”
“Very cruel indeed!” assented Caspar, who, although a hunter, was far from having an unfeeling heart. “Such people should be sent up themselves in paper balloons.”
“Yes, if paper balloons would carry them; which, unfortunately for us, they wouldn’t. Even if we had an unlimited supply of paper, it would be of no use to us. We require something stronger, and more tenacious.”
“Can we not think of something? Let us try, Karl!”
“Ah! dear brother, I have been trying for days, and in vain. There is nothing within this valley at all suitable for the purpose.”
“Would canvas do? Have you thought of that?”
“I have. It would be too coarse and heavy.”
“But, with great pains, could we not make it light enough? We might choose the finer fibres of the hemp; and spin and weave it with scrupulous care. Ossaroo here is a perfect Omphale in his way. I’ll warrant he could beat Hercules with the distaff.”
“Ho! brother!” exclaimed Karl, a little astonished. “You are quite classical in your speech this morning. Where learnt you the history of Hercules—you who have never seen the inside of a university?”
“You forget, brother Karl, that you yourself have been my instructor in these classical themes, as you call them. Though I must tell you that, with the exception of their occasionally lending a little ornament to my speech, I have derived not the slightest advantage from them; nor is it likely I ever shall.”
“Well, Caspar,” answered the botanist, “I am not going to stand up for the classics, as you are well aware. Although I have taught you a little of their lore, it was when I had nothing to do, and you were equally idle; otherwise I should have considered that both of us were wasting time. You already know my opinions on that subject—which are: that a knowledge of what is usually termed ‘the classics’ is of about as much use to a reasoning man as might be an equally profound knowledge of Chinesemnemonics. The time I have spent in the study of thedeadlanguages has been sheer waste; and all I have learnt wont raise us a foot higher here. My knowledge of Jupiter and Juno is not likely to gain us the means of getting out of our difficulty, no more than my acquaintance with Mercury will help me to a pair of wings. So a truce to classical ideas, and let us see whether scientific ones may not serve us better just now. You have a quick invention, brother Caspar; can you think of anything—I mean anything within our reach—that would make the air-bag of a balloon?”
“But could you make the balloon, if you had the stuff?” inquired Caspar, still in doubt whether any other than an experienced aeronaut could construct so wonderful a machine.
“Pooh!” replied the philosopher, “the making of a balloon is almost as easy as making a soap-bubble. Any air-tight bag, filled with heated atmosphere, becomes a balloon. The question is, what weight it can be made to carry—including the materials out of which it may be constructed.”
“But how are you to get the heated air into it?”
“Simply by making a fire under an aperture left open below.”
“But would not this air soon become cold again?”
“Yes; and then the balloon would sink back to the earth from the air inside getting cooled, and becoming as heavy as that without. Of course,” continued the philosopher, “you are aware that heated air is much lighter than the ordinary atmosphere; and that is why a balloon filled with the former, rises, and will continue rising, till it has reached that elevation, where the rarefied atmosphere is as light as the heated air. Then it can go no further, and the weight of the balloon itself will bring it down again. A bladder of ordinary air sunk in water, or a corked bottle, will illustrate this point to your comprehension.”
“I comprehend it well enough,” rejoined Karl, rather piqued at being treated too muchà l’enfantby his learned brother. “But I thought that, in a balloon, it was necessary to keep a fire constantly burning—a sort of grate or fire-basket suspended below. Now, even if we had the silk to make the great spherical bag, how could we make a fire-basket without iron?”
“We should not need the fire-basket you speak of. That is only required, when you design to keep your balloon some length of time in the air. If you only wish to make a short ascent, once filling the bag with hot air is sufficient; as it would be for us here. Even if we wanted a suspended grate, surely, brother, you have enough ingenuity to get over such a trifling difficulty as that?”
“Well, I’m not so sure that I could. How would you get over it?”
“Why, by making a common basket, and lining it with clay. That would carry fire, as well as a vessel of either cast or wrought iron—at least sufficient to serve for a short excursion such as we should care to make. Now-a-days, fire is not used for inflating balloons. Inflammable gas has been found to be far superior for this purpose; but as we have no such thing in stock, we should have to proceed on the old original plan—that employed by the brothers Montgolfier—the first inventors of the balloon.”
“You think, then, that the fire apparatus could be dispensed with, if we could only discover some material that would make the great globe-shaped bag to contain the heated air?”
“Ay,” replied Karl; “think of something to do that, and I promise to make you a balloon.”
Thus challenged, Caspar set his wits to work; and for a long while he sat in silence, as if buried in some very profound speculation. Probably, there was no material substance in that valley that did not pass in review before the retina of his mental vision; and all were considered in turn.
“It must be light, air-tight, and strong?” asked he, at length, as if there was something in his thoughts possessing these three requisites.
“Light, air-tight, and strong,” answered Karl, simply repeating his words.
“The two last I am sure of,” rejoined Caspar. “Of the first only have I my doubts.”
“What is it?” asked Karl, in a tone that betrayed his interest in what Caspar had said.
“Eel-skins!” was the laconic answer.
Chapter Fifty.The skin balloon.“Eel-skins,” said Caspar, repeating the phrase, as he saw that Karl hesitated before pronouncing an opinion. “Don’t you think they would do?”Karl had it on the tip of his tongue to cry out—“The very thing!” but something withheld him from making this unqualified declaration.“They might—it is possible they might,” said he, apparently debating the question within himself—“just possible; and yet I fear—”“What do you fear?” asked Caspar.“Do you think they would not be strong enough?”“Strong enough,” replied Karl. “That’s not what I fear.”“The air can’t pass through an eel-skin?”“No—not that.”“At the seams, perhaps? We can stitch them neatly; and then gum them over at the joinings. I’ll warrant Ossaroo can sew like a shoemaker.”The shikaree could do all that. Karl knew it. It was not there the difficulty lay.“The weight, then?” pursued Caspar interrogatively.“Precisely that,” answered Karl; “I fear they will be too heavy. Bring one, Ossaroo; and let us have a look at it.”The shikaree rose from his seat; and going into the hovel, returned presently—bringing back with him a long shrivelled object, which any one could tell to be a dried eel-skin.There were many like it inside: for they had carefully preserved the skins of the eels they had caught, induced to do so by a sort of presentiment, that some day they might find a use for them. In this case their prudent providence was likely to prove of service to them.Karl took the skin; and, holding it out on the palm of his hand, appeared to make an estimate of its weight. Caspar watched his brother’s countenance, and waited to hear what he would say; but Karl only expressed himself by a doubtful shake of the head, which seemed to show that his opinion wasagainstthe eel-skins.“They might be made much lighter, I fancy,” suggested Caspar: “scraping would do a deal for them; and by the way, why would not boiling make them light enough? It would take all the fatty, oily substance out of them.”“There’s something in what you say,” rejoined Karl, apparently impressed by the last suggestion. “Boiling might render them a good deal lighter. We can easily try it.”As Karl said this, he proceeded to the boiling spring, and plunged the eel-skin under the water. There it was permitted to remain for about half an hour, when it was taken out; and, after being scraped with the blade of a knife, was spread upon a rock, under the sun, where it would soon get thoroughly dry.They all waited patiently for the completion of this process. The result was of too interesting a character to allow of their occupying themselves with anything else.In due time the eel-skin had become sufficiently dry, to be submitted to examination; and Karl, once more taking it up, balanced it upon his palm.Tested, even in this inexact fashion, it was evidently much lighter than before; and, by the gratified look with which the philosopher regarded it, he appeared to be much better satisfied with its weight. Still, however, he was not sanguine: as his words testified. They were almost a repetition of what he had said before.“It may do—it is just possible. At all events, there can be no harm in trying. Let us try it, then.”To say, “Let us try it,” meant the same as to say, “Let us make the balloon.” The others understood that; and of course acquiesced in the determination.As there was nothing to interfere with the immediate commencement of the work, they resolved to set about it at once; and in fact did set about it without farther delay.The number of eel-skins on hand, though very considerable, would not be near enough for covering a balloon; and therefore Ossaroo went to work with his hooks and lines to catch a few hundreds more. Karl was able to tell how many it would take; or he could at least make an estimate sufficiently exact for the purpose. He designed a balloon of twelve feet diameter: for he knew that one of less size would not have power enough to carry up the weight of a man. Of course, Karl knew how to calculate the surface of a sphere whose diameter should be twelve feet. He had only to multiply the diameter on the circumference; or the square of the diameter on the fixed number 3.1416; or find the convex surface of the circumscribing cylinder; or else find four times the area of a great circle of the said sphere. Any one of these methods would give him the correct result.On making the calculation, he found that a sphere of 12 feet diameter would have a surface of 452 square feet, within a trifling fraction. Therefore 452 square feet of eel-skins would be required to cover it. In other words, that quantity would be required to make the balloon.As the eels happened to be of large size—most of them being over a yard in length, and full four inches in average girth—the skin of one when spread out would yield about a square foot of surface. Taking large and small together—and allowing for waste, the heads and tails that would have to be chopped off—Karl calculated that he would get nearly a square foot each out of the eels; and that about five hundred skins would make the balloon bag. But as they would have to be cut occasionally with a slant, in order to get the globe shape, perhaps a few more would be needed; and therefore Ossaroo was to keep his baits in the water, until the requisite number of eels should be hooked out of it.Ossaroo had another department assigned to him besides catching the fish; and one that took up more of his time: since the baiting of the hooks, and looking after them, required only his occasional attention. Spinning the thread by which the skins were to be sewed together, was a much more delicate operation: since in these both strength and fineness were absolutely necessary. But as Caspar had said, Ossaroo was an adept with the distaff; and several large skeins of the finest twist were soon turned off from his nimble fingers.When enough thread had been thus produced, Ossaroo proceeded to making the cords and stronger ropes, that would be needed for attaching the “boat”—as well as to hold the balloon in its place, while being got ready for its ascent.Caspar’s employment was—first, the skinning of the eels; and afterwards the scraping, boiling, and drying of the skins; while Karl, who acted as engineer-in-chief, besides giving a general superintendence to the work, occupied himself in imparting the final dressing to the material, and cutting it into such shapes, that it could be closely and conveniently stitched together.Karl had also made an excursion into the forest, and brought back with him large quantities of a gum, which he had extracted from a tree of the genusficus—a sort ofcaoutchouc—which is yielded by many species officusin the forests of the Lower Himalayas. Karl had gone in search of this substance, because he knew it would be required for paying the seams, and rendering them air-tight.When they had pursued their various avocations for about a week, it was thought that material enough of every kind was collected and made ready; and then Ossaroo was set to stitching. Fortunately, they were provided with needles: for these had formed a part of theaccoutrementof the plant-hunters—when originally starting upon their expedition.As neither Karl nor Caspar had any experience in handling such sharp tools, the sewing had all to be done by Ossaroo; and it took another full week to accomplish this Sartorean task.At the end of that time, it was fully accomplished and complete; and the huge bag was ready to receive its coat of gum varnish. A day sufficed for “paying;” and nothing more remained but to attach the “boat,” or “car,” that was to carry them aloft in their daring flight into the “azure fields of air.”
“Eel-skins,” said Caspar, repeating the phrase, as he saw that Karl hesitated before pronouncing an opinion. “Don’t you think they would do?”
Karl had it on the tip of his tongue to cry out—“The very thing!” but something withheld him from making this unqualified declaration.
“They might—it is possible they might,” said he, apparently debating the question within himself—“just possible; and yet I fear—”
“What do you fear?” asked Caspar.
“Do you think they would not be strong enough?”
“Strong enough,” replied Karl. “That’s not what I fear.”
“The air can’t pass through an eel-skin?”
“No—not that.”
“At the seams, perhaps? We can stitch them neatly; and then gum them over at the joinings. I’ll warrant Ossaroo can sew like a shoemaker.”
The shikaree could do all that. Karl knew it. It was not there the difficulty lay.
“The weight, then?” pursued Caspar interrogatively.
“Precisely that,” answered Karl; “I fear they will be too heavy. Bring one, Ossaroo; and let us have a look at it.”
The shikaree rose from his seat; and going into the hovel, returned presently—bringing back with him a long shrivelled object, which any one could tell to be a dried eel-skin.
There were many like it inside: for they had carefully preserved the skins of the eels they had caught, induced to do so by a sort of presentiment, that some day they might find a use for them. In this case their prudent providence was likely to prove of service to them.
Karl took the skin; and, holding it out on the palm of his hand, appeared to make an estimate of its weight. Caspar watched his brother’s countenance, and waited to hear what he would say; but Karl only expressed himself by a doubtful shake of the head, which seemed to show that his opinion wasagainstthe eel-skins.
“They might be made much lighter, I fancy,” suggested Caspar: “scraping would do a deal for them; and by the way, why would not boiling make them light enough? It would take all the fatty, oily substance out of them.”
“There’s something in what you say,” rejoined Karl, apparently impressed by the last suggestion. “Boiling might render them a good deal lighter. We can easily try it.”
As Karl said this, he proceeded to the boiling spring, and plunged the eel-skin under the water. There it was permitted to remain for about half an hour, when it was taken out; and, after being scraped with the blade of a knife, was spread upon a rock, under the sun, where it would soon get thoroughly dry.
They all waited patiently for the completion of this process. The result was of too interesting a character to allow of their occupying themselves with anything else.
In due time the eel-skin had become sufficiently dry, to be submitted to examination; and Karl, once more taking it up, balanced it upon his palm.
Tested, even in this inexact fashion, it was evidently much lighter than before; and, by the gratified look with which the philosopher regarded it, he appeared to be much better satisfied with its weight. Still, however, he was not sanguine: as his words testified. They were almost a repetition of what he had said before.
“It may do—it is just possible. At all events, there can be no harm in trying. Let us try it, then.”
To say, “Let us try it,” meant the same as to say, “Let us make the balloon.” The others understood that; and of course acquiesced in the determination.
As there was nothing to interfere with the immediate commencement of the work, they resolved to set about it at once; and in fact did set about it without farther delay.
The number of eel-skins on hand, though very considerable, would not be near enough for covering a balloon; and therefore Ossaroo went to work with his hooks and lines to catch a few hundreds more. Karl was able to tell how many it would take; or he could at least make an estimate sufficiently exact for the purpose. He designed a balloon of twelve feet diameter: for he knew that one of less size would not have power enough to carry up the weight of a man. Of course, Karl knew how to calculate the surface of a sphere whose diameter should be twelve feet. He had only to multiply the diameter on the circumference; or the square of the diameter on the fixed number 3.1416; or find the convex surface of the circumscribing cylinder; or else find four times the area of a great circle of the said sphere. Any one of these methods would give him the correct result.
On making the calculation, he found that a sphere of 12 feet diameter would have a surface of 452 square feet, within a trifling fraction. Therefore 452 square feet of eel-skins would be required to cover it. In other words, that quantity would be required to make the balloon.
As the eels happened to be of large size—most of them being over a yard in length, and full four inches in average girth—the skin of one when spread out would yield about a square foot of surface. Taking large and small together—and allowing for waste, the heads and tails that would have to be chopped off—Karl calculated that he would get nearly a square foot each out of the eels; and that about five hundred skins would make the balloon bag. But as they would have to be cut occasionally with a slant, in order to get the globe shape, perhaps a few more would be needed; and therefore Ossaroo was to keep his baits in the water, until the requisite number of eels should be hooked out of it.
Ossaroo had another department assigned to him besides catching the fish; and one that took up more of his time: since the baiting of the hooks, and looking after them, required only his occasional attention. Spinning the thread by which the skins were to be sewed together, was a much more delicate operation: since in these both strength and fineness were absolutely necessary. But as Caspar had said, Ossaroo was an adept with the distaff; and several large skeins of the finest twist were soon turned off from his nimble fingers.
When enough thread had been thus produced, Ossaroo proceeded to making the cords and stronger ropes, that would be needed for attaching the “boat”—as well as to hold the balloon in its place, while being got ready for its ascent.
Caspar’s employment was—first, the skinning of the eels; and afterwards the scraping, boiling, and drying of the skins; while Karl, who acted as engineer-in-chief, besides giving a general superintendence to the work, occupied himself in imparting the final dressing to the material, and cutting it into such shapes, that it could be closely and conveniently stitched together.
Karl had also made an excursion into the forest, and brought back with him large quantities of a gum, which he had extracted from a tree of the genusficus—a sort ofcaoutchouc—which is yielded by many species officusin the forests of the Lower Himalayas. Karl had gone in search of this substance, because he knew it would be required for paying the seams, and rendering them air-tight.
When they had pursued their various avocations for about a week, it was thought that material enough of every kind was collected and made ready; and then Ossaroo was set to stitching. Fortunately, they were provided with needles: for these had formed a part of theaccoutrementof the plant-hunters—when originally starting upon their expedition.
As neither Karl nor Caspar had any experience in handling such sharp tools, the sewing had all to be done by Ossaroo; and it took another full week to accomplish this Sartorean task.
At the end of that time, it was fully accomplished and complete; and the huge bag was ready to receive its coat of gum varnish. A day sufficed for “paying;” and nothing more remained but to attach the “boat,” or “car,” that was to carry them aloft in their daring flight into the “azure fields of air.”
Chapter Fifty One.Making ready for the ascent.Karl was the only one of the three who knew anything about a balloon, or the mode of inflating it. Had it been their intention of navigating the air, an apparatus would have been required to carry up a fire. This Karl could easily have contrived. A basket of wicker-work, as he had said, well lined with clay, would have answered the purpose after a fashion; but as they did not intend to use the balloon for any purpose beyond making the single ascent to lift them over the cliffs, a continuous fire would not be required. The first inflation would answer that end well enough; and therefore a grate or fire-basket was not thought of.The car to carry the passengers—or boat, as it is sometimes styled: since, for reasons easily understood, it is usually a boat—was quite another affair; and had it been designed for more than a mere temporary use, would have taken a considerable time in the making; but for what they wanted almost anything would serve; and all that they intended employing was a sort of wicker basket, or deep hamper, suspended by stout ropes. This had been already prepared; and only needed to be attached to the bottom of the air-bag.In the present case, the “bottom of the bag” is quite a figure of speech—lucus a non lucendo. Strictly speaking, it had no bottom; but, where this should have been, there was a round aperture, formed by a stout hoop of ringall bamboo, to which the skin covering was lashed, and to which, also, the cords intended to sustain the afore-mentioned basket, as also the stay-ropes, were to be attached.The object of this aperture will be easily understood. It was by it that the hot air was to be admitted inside the balloon, for the purpose of inflating it.And how was this hot air to be obtained? That was a question which Karl alone could answer. Of course, fire was to be the agent for producing it: but how was it to be got into the bag? Karl could tell that, and Karl only; and, now that the time had arrived for trying the experiment, he condescended to explain to his coadjutors how he meant to proceed.The bag was to be propped up between tall stakes set in the ground; its bottomless bottom turned towards the earth, so that the aperture would be below. Under this a fire was to be kindled—not, however, until everything else should be ready; and the hot air rising up into the aperture would enter the balloon, and cause it to swell out to its full globular dimensions. More hot air being admitted, the cooler atmosphere within would be expelled, the balloon would become lighter than the surrounding air, and by the simple principle of atmospheric pressure it would ascend into the air. It was expected it would do so—it was hoped it would.To say the truth, the hopes of the engineer were far from being high—his expectations anything but sanguine. He had observed all along, that, notwithstanding the process employed for lightening the eel-skins, they were still far heavier than silk; and perhaps, after all, the experiment might not succeed. There was another circumstance that had as muchweighton the mind of Karl as the eel-skins; and that was quite as likely to have abearingupon the balloon. He had not overlooked the fact, that the spot, from which they proposed making the ascent, was nearly ten thousand feet above the level of the sea. He knew that the atmosphere in such a situation would be extremely rarefied, and that a balloon, which might easily ascend many thousand feet into the air starting from the level of the sea, would not stir from the ground if carried to the top of a mountain ten thousand feet high. This was the circumstance which preyed upon the spirit of the young philosopher, and hindered him from entertaining any very sanguine hopes of success in the experiment they were making.The philosophical truth had been before his mind from the first, and at times had almost determined him to abandon the project. But as he was not sufficiently acquainted with the laws of aerostation as to be certain of failure, he had worked on with the determination to seek success, though it must be acknowledged with but faint hopes of finding it.Thus stood matters on the morning when it was finally arranged to launch their great aerial ship, and ascertain whether it would swim.All things were made ready at an early hour. The huge bag was set up between the supporting stakes thecarwas attached to it, as also several ropes to keep the balloon from being carried away; and these were fastened at their other ends to stout pegs, driven firmly into the ground; while a little furnace of stones was built underneath to hold the fire, whose ascending caloric was to expand the balloon, and raise it into the air.The fuel out of which this fire was to be made had been already collected near the spot. It was not wood, nor faggots of any kind; for although these might have served after a fashion, Karl was acquainted with a better material. He remembered that the Montgolfiers, and other early aerostats—previous to the introduction of the inflammable gas—had used chopped straw and wool, and regarded these materials to be the best substances for inflating their balloons. Karl had adopted their idea; and had provided chopped grass as a substitute for the chopped straw, and in lieu of sheep’s wool he had procured a quantity of theposhmof the ibex, and other animals, that had been killed—the rich shawl-wool of Cashmere!The car, which has already been described as a sort of deep hamper, was not over three feet in diameter. It was evidently not equal to the holding of three persons—to say nothing of a large dog—for it is hardly necessary to say that Fritz was not going to be left behind. The faithful creature had too long followed the fortunes of our adventurers to be abandoned by them now.But there was not the slightest danger of that. The dimensions of the car were large enough for what the “vehicle” was intended to carry, which was onlyone.Karl believed that there would be little chance of the balloon having sufficient power to take up all three of them, their united weight being over four hundred pounds. He would be but too contented if one should be carried aloft; and if that one should succeed in effecting a landing on the summit of the cliff, it was of no importance what afterwards became of the aerial ship. Having completed that one voyage, it might make another on its own account—either south to Calcutta or eastward to Hong Kong, if it liked China better.Of course, if any one of them should succeed in surmounting the cliff, it would be an easy matter to get over the mountain; and as they had passed native villages on their way upward, these could be reached in a day or two, and a party of men, with a proper rope-ladder, brought to the rescue of the others.Even had there been no prospect of assistance from any one outside, it would not matter very much. If only one of them could get to the top of the cliffs, they could construct a rope-ladder of themselves—by which the other two would be able to make the ascent.It is hardly necessary to say who was to make the attempt—Ossaroo was to be the aeronaut. Ossaroo had voluntarily offered himself for this perilous performance; and his offer had been accepted.Not that either of the others were at all afraid to have run the risk. It was from no desire to shirk the danger that they had appointed Ossaroo to undertake it; but simply because, once outside, the shikaree would be far better able to find his way down the mountains: and in his native language could readily communicate with the villagers, and give a correct account of their situation.
Karl was the only one of the three who knew anything about a balloon, or the mode of inflating it. Had it been their intention of navigating the air, an apparatus would have been required to carry up a fire. This Karl could easily have contrived. A basket of wicker-work, as he had said, well lined with clay, would have answered the purpose after a fashion; but as they did not intend to use the balloon for any purpose beyond making the single ascent to lift them over the cliffs, a continuous fire would not be required. The first inflation would answer that end well enough; and therefore a grate or fire-basket was not thought of.
The car to carry the passengers—or boat, as it is sometimes styled: since, for reasons easily understood, it is usually a boat—was quite another affair; and had it been designed for more than a mere temporary use, would have taken a considerable time in the making; but for what they wanted almost anything would serve; and all that they intended employing was a sort of wicker basket, or deep hamper, suspended by stout ropes. This had been already prepared; and only needed to be attached to the bottom of the air-bag.
In the present case, the “bottom of the bag” is quite a figure of speech—lucus a non lucendo. Strictly speaking, it had no bottom; but, where this should have been, there was a round aperture, formed by a stout hoop of ringall bamboo, to which the skin covering was lashed, and to which, also, the cords intended to sustain the afore-mentioned basket, as also the stay-ropes, were to be attached.
The object of this aperture will be easily understood. It was by it that the hot air was to be admitted inside the balloon, for the purpose of inflating it.
And how was this hot air to be obtained? That was a question which Karl alone could answer. Of course, fire was to be the agent for producing it: but how was it to be got into the bag? Karl could tell that, and Karl only; and, now that the time had arrived for trying the experiment, he condescended to explain to his coadjutors how he meant to proceed.
The bag was to be propped up between tall stakes set in the ground; its bottomless bottom turned towards the earth, so that the aperture would be below. Under this a fire was to be kindled—not, however, until everything else should be ready; and the hot air rising up into the aperture would enter the balloon, and cause it to swell out to its full globular dimensions. More hot air being admitted, the cooler atmosphere within would be expelled, the balloon would become lighter than the surrounding air, and by the simple principle of atmospheric pressure it would ascend into the air. It was expected it would do so—it was hoped it would.
To say the truth, the hopes of the engineer were far from being high—his expectations anything but sanguine. He had observed all along, that, notwithstanding the process employed for lightening the eel-skins, they were still far heavier than silk; and perhaps, after all, the experiment might not succeed. There was another circumstance that had as muchweighton the mind of Karl as the eel-skins; and that was quite as likely to have abearingupon the balloon. He had not overlooked the fact, that the spot, from which they proposed making the ascent, was nearly ten thousand feet above the level of the sea. He knew that the atmosphere in such a situation would be extremely rarefied, and that a balloon, which might easily ascend many thousand feet into the air starting from the level of the sea, would not stir from the ground if carried to the top of a mountain ten thousand feet high. This was the circumstance which preyed upon the spirit of the young philosopher, and hindered him from entertaining any very sanguine hopes of success in the experiment they were making.
The philosophical truth had been before his mind from the first, and at times had almost determined him to abandon the project. But as he was not sufficiently acquainted with the laws of aerostation as to be certain of failure, he had worked on with the determination to seek success, though it must be acknowledged with but faint hopes of finding it.
Thus stood matters on the morning when it was finally arranged to launch their great aerial ship, and ascertain whether it would swim.
All things were made ready at an early hour. The huge bag was set up between the supporting stakes thecarwas attached to it, as also several ropes to keep the balloon from being carried away; and these were fastened at their other ends to stout pegs, driven firmly into the ground; while a little furnace of stones was built underneath to hold the fire, whose ascending caloric was to expand the balloon, and raise it into the air.
The fuel out of which this fire was to be made had been already collected near the spot. It was not wood, nor faggots of any kind; for although these might have served after a fashion, Karl was acquainted with a better material. He remembered that the Montgolfiers, and other early aerostats—previous to the introduction of the inflammable gas—had used chopped straw and wool, and regarded these materials to be the best substances for inflating their balloons. Karl had adopted their idea; and had provided chopped grass as a substitute for the chopped straw, and in lieu of sheep’s wool he had procured a quantity of theposhmof the ibex, and other animals, that had been killed—the rich shawl-wool of Cashmere!
The car, which has already been described as a sort of deep hamper, was not over three feet in diameter. It was evidently not equal to the holding of three persons—to say nothing of a large dog—for it is hardly necessary to say that Fritz was not going to be left behind. The faithful creature had too long followed the fortunes of our adventurers to be abandoned by them now.
But there was not the slightest danger of that. The dimensions of the car were large enough for what the “vehicle” was intended to carry, which was onlyone.
Karl believed that there would be little chance of the balloon having sufficient power to take up all three of them, their united weight being over four hundred pounds. He would be but too contented if one should be carried aloft; and if that one should succeed in effecting a landing on the summit of the cliff, it was of no importance what afterwards became of the aerial ship. Having completed that one voyage, it might make another on its own account—either south to Calcutta or eastward to Hong Kong, if it liked China better.
Of course, if any one of them should succeed in surmounting the cliff, it would be an easy matter to get over the mountain; and as they had passed native villages on their way upward, these could be reached in a day or two, and a party of men, with a proper rope-ladder, brought to the rescue of the others.
Even had there been no prospect of assistance from any one outside, it would not matter very much. If only one of them could get to the top of the cliffs, they could construct a rope-ladder of themselves—by which the other two would be able to make the ascent.
It is hardly necessary to say who was to make the attempt—Ossaroo was to be the aeronaut. Ossaroo had voluntarily offered himself for this perilous performance; and his offer had been accepted.
Not that either of the others were at all afraid to have run the risk. It was from no desire to shirk the danger that they had appointed Ossaroo to undertake it; but simply because, once outside, the shikaree would be far better able to find his way down the mountains: and in his native language could readily communicate with the villagers, and give a correct account of their situation.
Chapter Fifty Two.Inflation and failure.At length arrived the hour for making that important experiment—as to whether their aerial ship would prove herself air-worthy.All three stood around the spot where the chopped grass and shawl-wool were to be set on fire. This fuel itself appeared underneath—in a little heap lightly laid, and ready for the touch of the tinder.Karl had a piece of blazing torch in his hand; Caspar held one of the stay-ropes, to prevent the balloon from rising too rapidly; while Ossaroo, equipped as if for a journey, stood by the hamper, in readiness, when the proper time should arrive, to “pack” himself into it.Alas! for the frailty of all human foresight! The most careful calculations often prove erroneous—not that in the present instance there was any unforeseen error: for from the very first, Karl had been distrustful of his data; and they were now to disappoint, rather than deceive him. It was not written in the book of destiny that Ossaroo should ever set foot in that wicker car or ever make an ascent by that balloon.The torch was applied to the chopped grass and shawl-wool. Both blazed and smoked, and smouldered; and, more being thrown on, the blaze was kept up continuously. The heated air ascended through the aperture, causing the great sphere of stitched skins to swell out to its full dimensions.It trembled and rocked from side to side, like some huge monster in pain. It rose to the height of a few inches from the ground, sank, and then rose again, sank once more, and so kept on rising and sinking and bobbing about, but alas! never exhibiting sufficient ascending power, to raise the hamper even as high as their heads!Karl continued to feed the furnace with the chopped grass and poshm, but all to no purpose. The air within was sufficiently heated to have raised it for miles—had they only been as low as the sea-level, and the balloon constructed of lighter materials.As it was, all their efforts were in vain. The gigantic globe could not be raised above six feet from the ground. It had not power enough to carry up a cat—much less a man. In short, it was a failure—one more added to the long list of their dark disappointments!For more than an hour Karl continued to keep his fire ablaze. He even tried faggots of the resinous pine: in hopes that by obtaining a greater strength of caloric he might still succeed in causing the balloon to soar upward; but there was no perceptible difference in the effect. It bobbed about as before, but still obstinately refused to ascend.At length, with patience exhausted and hopes completely crushed, the engineer turned away from the machine which he had taken so much pains in constructing. For a moment he stood irresolute. Then heaving a sigh at the recollection of his wasted labour, with sad, slow step he departed from the spot. Caspar soon followed him—fully participating in the feeling of grievous disappointment. Ossaroo took leave of the inflated monster in a different fashion. Drawing near to it, he stood for some seconds contemplating it in silence—as if reflecting on the vast amount of seam he had stitched to no purpose. Then uttering a native ejaculation, coupled with a phrase that meant to say, “No good either for the earth, the water, or the air,” he raised his foot, kicked the balloon in the side—with such violence that the toe of his sandals burst a hole in the distended eel-skins; and, turning scornfully away, left the worthless machine to take care of itself.This task, however, it proved ill adapted to accomplish: for the disappointed aeronauts had not been gone many minutes from the ground, when the heated air inside, which had for some time been gradually growing cooler, reached at length so low a temperature, that the great sphere began to collapse and settle down upon the embers of the pine faggots still glowing red underneath. The consequence was that the inflammable skins, cords, and woodwork coming in contact with the fire, began to burn like so much tinder. The flames ran upward, licking the oily eel-skins like the tongues of fiery serpents; and when theci-devantaeronauts looked back from the door of their hut, they perceived that the balloon was ablaze!Had the accident occurred two hours before, they would have looked upon it as the saddest of calamities. Now, however, they stood regarding the burning of that abandoned balloon, with as much indifference as is said to have been exhibited by Nero, while contemplating the conflagration of the seven-hilled city!
At length arrived the hour for making that important experiment—as to whether their aerial ship would prove herself air-worthy.
All three stood around the spot where the chopped grass and shawl-wool were to be set on fire. This fuel itself appeared underneath—in a little heap lightly laid, and ready for the touch of the tinder.
Karl had a piece of blazing torch in his hand; Caspar held one of the stay-ropes, to prevent the balloon from rising too rapidly; while Ossaroo, equipped as if for a journey, stood by the hamper, in readiness, when the proper time should arrive, to “pack” himself into it.
Alas! for the frailty of all human foresight! The most careful calculations often prove erroneous—not that in the present instance there was any unforeseen error: for from the very first, Karl had been distrustful of his data; and they were now to disappoint, rather than deceive him. It was not written in the book of destiny that Ossaroo should ever set foot in that wicker car or ever make an ascent by that balloon.
The torch was applied to the chopped grass and shawl-wool. Both blazed and smoked, and smouldered; and, more being thrown on, the blaze was kept up continuously. The heated air ascended through the aperture, causing the great sphere of stitched skins to swell out to its full dimensions.
It trembled and rocked from side to side, like some huge monster in pain. It rose to the height of a few inches from the ground, sank, and then rose again, sank once more, and so kept on rising and sinking and bobbing about, but alas! never exhibiting sufficient ascending power, to raise the hamper even as high as their heads!
Karl continued to feed the furnace with the chopped grass and poshm, but all to no purpose. The air within was sufficiently heated to have raised it for miles—had they only been as low as the sea-level, and the balloon constructed of lighter materials.
As it was, all their efforts were in vain. The gigantic globe could not be raised above six feet from the ground. It had not power enough to carry up a cat—much less a man. In short, it was a failure—one more added to the long list of their dark disappointments!
For more than an hour Karl continued to keep his fire ablaze. He even tried faggots of the resinous pine: in hopes that by obtaining a greater strength of caloric he might still succeed in causing the balloon to soar upward; but there was no perceptible difference in the effect. It bobbed about as before, but still obstinately refused to ascend.
At length, with patience exhausted and hopes completely crushed, the engineer turned away from the machine which he had taken so much pains in constructing. For a moment he stood irresolute. Then heaving a sigh at the recollection of his wasted labour, with sad, slow step he departed from the spot. Caspar soon followed him—fully participating in the feeling of grievous disappointment. Ossaroo took leave of the inflated monster in a different fashion. Drawing near to it, he stood for some seconds contemplating it in silence—as if reflecting on the vast amount of seam he had stitched to no purpose. Then uttering a native ejaculation, coupled with a phrase that meant to say, “No good either for the earth, the water, or the air,” he raised his foot, kicked the balloon in the side—with such violence that the toe of his sandals burst a hole in the distended eel-skins; and, turning scornfully away, left the worthless machine to take care of itself.
This task, however, it proved ill adapted to accomplish: for the disappointed aeronauts had not been gone many minutes from the ground, when the heated air inside, which had for some time been gradually growing cooler, reached at length so low a temperature, that the great sphere began to collapse and settle down upon the embers of the pine faggots still glowing red underneath. The consequence was that the inflammable skins, cords, and woodwork coming in contact with the fire, began to burn like so much tinder. The flames ran upward, licking the oily eel-skins like the tongues of fiery serpents; and when theci-devantaeronauts looked back from the door of their hut, they perceived that the balloon was ablaze!
Had the accident occurred two hours before, they would have looked upon it as the saddest of calamities. Now, however, they stood regarding the burning of that abandoned balloon, with as much indifference as is said to have been exhibited by Nero, while contemplating the conflagration of the seven-hilled city!
Chapter Fifty Three.Another spell of despair.Never, during all the days of their sojourn in that “Valley of Despond,” did our adventurers feel more despondence, than on the afternoon that succeeded the bursting of their great air-bubble—the balloon. They felt that in this effort, they had exhausted all their ingenuity; and so firmly were they convinced of its being the last, that no one thought about making another. The spirits of all three were prostrate in the dust, and seemed at length to have surrendered to despair.Of course, it was not that sort of despair which takes possession of one conscious of coming and certain death. It was far from being so dire as this; but for all it was a bitter feeling. They knew they could continue to live, perhaps as long there, as elsewhere upon the earth; but what would life be worth to them, cut off from all communication with the world?—for now, to the fulness of conviction, did they believe themselves thus isolated.In disposition not one of the three had the slightest particle of the hermit. Not one of them, but would have shuddered at the thought of becoming a Simon Stylites. You might suppose that, with books and Nature to study, Karl could have made shift. True, with such companions he might have lived a less irksome life than either of the others; but even with these to occupy him, it is doubtful whether Karl could have passed the time; for it is not very certain, that a man—knowing himself alone in the world, and for ever to be alone—would care either for the books of men or the book of Nature.As for Caspar, the thought that their lonely existence was to be perpetual, was enough at times to send the blood rushing coldly through his veins.The Hindoo felt the affliction as much as either of his companions in misfortune; and sighed as much for his bamboo hut on the hot plains of Hindostan, as they for their home in the far fatherland of Bavaria.It is true their situation was not so bad as if each had been left alone by himself. Many a poor castaway upon a desert island has been condemned to a far more unhappy fate. They knew and acknowledged this. Each had the other two for companions; but as they reflected thus, they could not hinder their thoughts from casting forward into the future—perhaps not distant—when one of them might leave that valley without the aid of either rope-ladders or balloons; and then another—leaving the last of the three lonely and forlorn!With such sad reflections did they pass the evening of that day, and the morning and evening of that which followed. They took no heed of time; and could scarce summon sufficient energy to cook their frugal meals. The spirit to plan, and the energy to act, seemed both to have departed from them at once and for ever.This state of things could not long continue. As already said, the soul of man holds within itself a power of resuscitation. So long as it continues to live, it may hope to recover from the heaviest blow. Broken hearts are more apparent than real; and even those that are worst shattered have their intervals in which they are restored to a perfect soundness. The slave in his chains, the prisoner within his dark dungeon, the castaway on his desert isle, all have their hours of joy—perhaps as vivid and lasting as those of the king upon his throne, or the conqueror in his car of triumph.On earth there is no happiness unmingled with alloy; and, perhaps, there is no sorrow that may not in time find solace.On the second clay succeeding their last great disappointment, the spirits of all three began to revive; and those natural wants—which, whether we will or not, force themselves upon our attention—commenced to claim their consideration.Karl was the first to recognise these necessities. If they were to live there for life, he reasoned,—and this seemed no longer a doubtful supposition,—it would be of no use, giving way to despondency—moping out their days like mutes at a funeral. Better far to lead an active life; and live well too—by providing plenty to eat and plenty to drink—which with industry they could easily do. All this might not make them cheerful; but they would certainly be less a prey to melancholy while engaged in some active industry, than if they remained brooding over their fate.These thoughts, as we have said, arose on the morning of the second day succeeding that on which the balloon had been abandoned. Karl gave words to them, in an attempt to cheer his brother Caspar—who had relapsed into a state of unusual despondency. Ossaroo equally required cheering; and therefore it devolved on the botanist to attempt enlivening the spirits of his companions.For a time, he met with very slight success; but gradually the necessity of action forced itself upon the attention of all—if only to provide the means to keep them from starving; and without further loss of time, they resumed the various branches of industry, by which they had hitherto been enabled to supply their larder.To Caspar, as before, the chase was entrusted; while Ossaroo attended to the fishing; as he, better than either of the others, understood the management of hooks, lines, and nets.The botanist busied himself in the old way, exploring the valley, in search of such seeds, plants, and roots, as might be found wholesome for food—not neglecting others of a medicinal character, that might serve in case of sickness. Many such had the young plant-hunter encountered during his early researches; and had made note of them against the possibility of their being required.Fortunately, up to that time there had been no real need for any of the party to make trial of the naturalPharmacopoeiawhich the valley afforded: and it was to be hoped they should never have occasion to test the virtues of the specifics which the plant-hunter had discovered. Karl nevertheless collected several kinds; and, after submitting them to a process necessary for their preservation, had stored them away within the hut.Of those vegetable products adapted for food, the chief article obtained was the nutritive seed yielded by the edible pine (Pinus Gerardiana). The cones of this valuable tree were as large as artichokes; each yielding several seeds of the size and appearance of pistachio nuts.The wild cockscomb (Amaranthus Cruentus) also furnished a portion of their supply. Its seeds when parched, and crushed between two stones, produced a kind of meal, of which cakes of bread were manufactured by Ossaroo. These, although very far inferior to the real home-bake, or even to the most ordinary production of the bakehouse, were nevertheless sufficiently palatable to those who had no other bread.The lake, besides yielding fish to the nets of Ossaroo, also afforded a supply of vegetables. On searching it, the botanist discovered several edible kinds of plants; among others the curiousTrapa bicornis, or horned water-nut—known among the natives of the Himalayan countries by the nameSingara, and much used by them as an article of wholesome food.There was also a splendid water-lily—with very broad leaves and large flowers of pink and white colour—the seeds and the stalks of which Karl knew to be edible; as he had read of their being used for this purpose by the poorer people in the country of Cashmeer. The lily in question, viz. theNelumbium speciosum, grows plentifully in the lakes of the far-famed valley so named.On first observing this beautiful plant growing luxuriantly, as it was, in their own little valley lake, Karl took occasion to inform his brother—Ossaroo at the same time listening attentively to his statement—of the various uses made of it by the inhabitants of Cashmeer. How the boys sailing about in their boats when the day chances to be very hot, are in the habit of plucking one of its large shining leaves out of the water, and spreading it over their crowns, to protect them from the fervid rays of the sun; and how the petiole of the leaf, being hollow inside, serves them as a tube for drinking out of. Many such interesting particulars, in regard to the economy of this fine aquatic plant, did the young botanist communicate to his companions; but none more interesting than the fact that both its seeds and stalks are edible: since this promised them additional security against the danger of running short in their supply of vegetable food.
Never, during all the days of their sojourn in that “Valley of Despond,” did our adventurers feel more despondence, than on the afternoon that succeeded the bursting of their great air-bubble—the balloon. They felt that in this effort, they had exhausted all their ingenuity; and so firmly were they convinced of its being the last, that no one thought about making another. The spirits of all three were prostrate in the dust, and seemed at length to have surrendered to despair.
Of course, it was not that sort of despair which takes possession of one conscious of coming and certain death. It was far from being so dire as this; but for all it was a bitter feeling. They knew they could continue to live, perhaps as long there, as elsewhere upon the earth; but what would life be worth to them, cut off from all communication with the world?—for now, to the fulness of conviction, did they believe themselves thus isolated.
In disposition not one of the three had the slightest particle of the hermit. Not one of them, but would have shuddered at the thought of becoming a Simon Stylites. You might suppose that, with books and Nature to study, Karl could have made shift. True, with such companions he might have lived a less irksome life than either of the others; but even with these to occupy him, it is doubtful whether Karl could have passed the time; for it is not very certain, that a man—knowing himself alone in the world, and for ever to be alone—would care either for the books of men or the book of Nature.
As for Caspar, the thought that their lonely existence was to be perpetual, was enough at times to send the blood rushing coldly through his veins.
The Hindoo felt the affliction as much as either of his companions in misfortune; and sighed as much for his bamboo hut on the hot plains of Hindostan, as they for their home in the far fatherland of Bavaria.
It is true their situation was not so bad as if each had been left alone by himself. Many a poor castaway upon a desert island has been condemned to a far more unhappy fate. They knew and acknowledged this. Each had the other two for companions; but as they reflected thus, they could not hinder their thoughts from casting forward into the future—perhaps not distant—when one of them might leave that valley without the aid of either rope-ladders or balloons; and then another—leaving the last of the three lonely and forlorn!
With such sad reflections did they pass the evening of that day, and the morning and evening of that which followed. They took no heed of time; and could scarce summon sufficient energy to cook their frugal meals. The spirit to plan, and the energy to act, seemed both to have departed from them at once and for ever.
This state of things could not long continue. As already said, the soul of man holds within itself a power of resuscitation. So long as it continues to live, it may hope to recover from the heaviest blow. Broken hearts are more apparent than real; and even those that are worst shattered have their intervals in which they are restored to a perfect soundness. The slave in his chains, the prisoner within his dark dungeon, the castaway on his desert isle, all have their hours of joy—perhaps as vivid and lasting as those of the king upon his throne, or the conqueror in his car of triumph.
On earth there is no happiness unmingled with alloy; and, perhaps, there is no sorrow that may not in time find solace.
On the second clay succeeding their last great disappointment, the spirits of all three began to revive; and those natural wants—which, whether we will or not, force themselves upon our attention—commenced to claim their consideration.
Karl was the first to recognise these necessities. If they were to live there for life, he reasoned,—and this seemed no longer a doubtful supposition,—it would be of no use, giving way to despondency—moping out their days like mutes at a funeral. Better far to lead an active life; and live well too—by providing plenty to eat and plenty to drink—which with industry they could easily do. All this might not make them cheerful; but they would certainly be less a prey to melancholy while engaged in some active industry, than if they remained brooding over their fate.
These thoughts, as we have said, arose on the morning of the second day succeeding that on which the balloon had been abandoned. Karl gave words to them, in an attempt to cheer his brother Caspar—who had relapsed into a state of unusual despondency. Ossaroo equally required cheering; and therefore it devolved on the botanist to attempt enlivening the spirits of his companions.
For a time, he met with very slight success; but gradually the necessity of action forced itself upon the attention of all—if only to provide the means to keep them from starving; and without further loss of time, they resumed the various branches of industry, by which they had hitherto been enabled to supply their larder.
To Caspar, as before, the chase was entrusted; while Ossaroo attended to the fishing; as he, better than either of the others, understood the management of hooks, lines, and nets.
The botanist busied himself in the old way, exploring the valley, in search of such seeds, plants, and roots, as might be found wholesome for food—not neglecting others of a medicinal character, that might serve in case of sickness. Many such had the young plant-hunter encountered during his early researches; and had made note of them against the possibility of their being required.
Fortunately, up to that time there had been no real need for any of the party to make trial of the naturalPharmacopoeiawhich the valley afforded: and it was to be hoped they should never have occasion to test the virtues of the specifics which the plant-hunter had discovered. Karl nevertheless collected several kinds; and, after submitting them to a process necessary for their preservation, had stored them away within the hut.
Of those vegetable products adapted for food, the chief article obtained was the nutritive seed yielded by the edible pine (Pinus Gerardiana). The cones of this valuable tree were as large as artichokes; each yielding several seeds of the size and appearance of pistachio nuts.
The wild cockscomb (Amaranthus Cruentus) also furnished a portion of their supply. Its seeds when parched, and crushed between two stones, produced a kind of meal, of which cakes of bread were manufactured by Ossaroo. These, although very far inferior to the real home-bake, or even to the most ordinary production of the bakehouse, were nevertheless sufficiently palatable to those who had no other bread.
The lake, besides yielding fish to the nets of Ossaroo, also afforded a supply of vegetables. On searching it, the botanist discovered several edible kinds of plants; among others the curiousTrapa bicornis, or horned water-nut—known among the natives of the Himalayan countries by the nameSingara, and much used by them as an article of wholesome food.
There was also a splendid water-lily—with very broad leaves and large flowers of pink and white colour—the seeds and the stalks of which Karl knew to be edible; as he had read of their being used for this purpose by the poorer people in the country of Cashmeer. The lily in question, viz. theNelumbium speciosum, grows plentifully in the lakes of the far-famed valley so named.
On first observing this beautiful plant growing luxuriantly, as it was, in their own little valley lake, Karl took occasion to inform his brother—Ossaroo at the same time listening attentively to his statement—of the various uses made of it by the inhabitants of Cashmeer. How the boys sailing about in their boats when the day chances to be very hot, are in the habit of plucking one of its large shining leaves out of the water, and spreading it over their crowns, to protect them from the fervid rays of the sun; and how the petiole of the leaf, being hollow inside, serves them as a tube for drinking out of. Many such interesting particulars, in regard to the economy of this fine aquatic plant, did the young botanist communicate to his companions; but none more interesting than the fact that both its seeds and stalks are edible: since this promised them additional security against the danger of running short in their supply of vegetable food.