Part 1 - Dropped from the Clouds: Chapter 2

by Jules Verne

　　Those whom the hurricane had just thrown on this coast were neitheraeronauts by profession nor amateurs. They were prisoners of war whoseboldness had induced them to escape in this extraordinary manner.

　　A hundred times they had almost perished! A hundred times had they almostfallen from their torn balloon into the depths of the ocean. But Heaven hadreserved them for a strange destiny, and after having, on the 20th ofMarch, escaped from Richmond, besieged by the troops of General UlyssesGrant, they found themselves seven thousand miles from the capital ofVirginia, which was the principal stronghold of the South, during theterrible War of Secession. Their aerial voyage had lasted five days.

　　The curious circumstances which led to the escape of the prisoners wereas follows:

　　That same year, in the month of February, 1865, in one of the coups demain by which General Grant attempted, though in vain, to possess himselfof Richmond, several of his officers fell into the power of the enemy andwere detained in the town. One of the most distinguished was Captain CyrusHarding. He was a native of Massachusetts, a first-class engineer, to whomthe government had confided, during the war, the direction of the railways,which were so important at that time. A true Northerner, thin, bony, lean,about forty-five years of age; his close-cut hair and his beard, of whichhe only kept a thick mustache, were already getting gray. He had one-ofthose finely-developed heads which appear made to be struck on a medal,piercing eyes, a serious mouth, the physiognomy of a clever man of themilitary school. He was one of those engineers who began by handling thehammer and pickaxe, like generals who first act as common soldiers. Besidesmental power, he also possessed great manual dexterity. His musclesexhibited remarkable proofs of tenacity. A man of action as well as a manof thought, all he did was without effort to one of his vigorous andsanguine temperament. Learned, clear-headed, and practical, he fulfilled inall emergencies those three conditions which united ought to insure humansuccess--activity of mind and body, impetuous wishes, and powerful will. Hemight have taken for his motto that of William of Orange in the 17thcentury: "I can undertake and persevere even without hope of success."Cyrus Harding was courage personified. He had been in all the battles ofthat war. After having begun as a volunteer at Illinois, under UlyssesGrant, he fought at Paducah, Belmont, Pittsburg Landing, at the siege ofCorinth, Port Gibson, Black River, Chattanooga, the Wilderness, on thePotomac, everywhere and valiantly, a soldier worthy of the general whosaid, "I never count my dead!" And hundreds of times Captain Harding hadalmost been among those who were not counted by the terrible Grant; but inthese combats where he never spared himself, fortune favored him till themoment when he was wounded and taken prisoner on the field of battle nearRichmond. At the same time and on the same day another important personagefell into the hands of the Southerners. This was no other than GideonSpilen, a reporter for the New York Herald, who had been ordered to followthe changes of the war in the midst of the Northern armies.

　　Gideon Spilett was one of that race of indomitable English or Americanchroniclers, like Stanley and others, who stop at nothing to obtain exactinformation, and transmit it to their journal in the shortest possibletime. The newspapers of the Union, such as the New York Herald, are genuinepowers, and their reporters are men to be reckoned with. Gideon Spilettranked among the first of those reporters: a man of great merit, energetic,prompt and ready for anything, full of ideas, having traveled over thewhole world, soldier and artist, enthusiastic in council, resolute inaction, caring neither for trouble, fatigue, nor danger, when in pursuit ofinformation, for himself first, and then for his journal, a perfecttreasury of knowledge on all sorts of curious subjects, of the unpublished,of the unknown, and of the impossible. He was one of those intrepidobservers who write under fire, "reporting" among bullets, and to whomevery danger is welcome.

　　He also had been in all the battles, in the first rank, revolver in onehand, note-book in the other; grape-shot never made his pencil tremble. Hedid not fatigue the wires with incessant telegrams, like those who speakwhen they have nothing to say, but each of his notes, short, decisive, andclear, threw light on some important point. Besides, he was not wanting inhumor. It was he who, after the affair of the Black River, determined atany cost to keep his place at the wicket of the telegraph office, and afterhaving announced to his journal the result of the battle, telegraphed fortwo hours the first chapters of the Bible. It cost the New York Herald twothousand dollars, but the New York Herald published the first intelligence.

　　Gideon Spilett was tall. He was rather more than forty years of age.Light whiskers bordering on red surrounded his face. His eye was steady,lively, rapid in its changes. It was the eye of a man accustomed to take inat a glance all the details of a scene. Well built, he was inured to allclimates, like a bar of steel hardened in cold water.

　　For ten years Gideon Spilett had been the reporter of the New YorkHerald, which he enriched by his letters and drawings, for he was asskilful in the use of the pencil as of the pen. When be was captured, hewas in the act of making a description and sketch of the battle. The lastwords in his note-book were these: "A Southern rifleman has just taken aimat me, but--" The Southerner notwithstanding missed Gideon Spilett, who,with his usual fortune, came out of this affair without a scratch.

　　Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett, who did not know each other except byreputation, had both been carried to Richmond. The engineer's woundsrapidly healed, and it was during his convalescence that he madeacquaintance with the reporter. The two men then learned to appreciate eachother. Soon their common aim had but one object, that of escaping,rejoining Grant's army, and fighting together in the ranks of the Federals.

　　The two Americans had from the first determined to seize every chance;but although they were allowed to wander at liberty in the town, Richmondwas so strictly guarded, that escape appeared impossible. In the meanwhileCaptain Harding was rejoined by a servant who was devoted to him in lifeand in death. This intrepid fellow was a Negro born on the engineer'sestate, of a slave father and mother, but to whom Cyrus, who was anAbolitionist from conviction and heart, had long since given his freedom.The once slave, though free, would not leave his master. He would have diedfor him. He was a man of about thirty, vigorous, active, clever,intelligent, gentle, and calm, sometimes naive, always merry, obliging, andhonest. His name was Nebuchadnezzar, but he only answered to the familiarabbreviation of Neb.

　　When Neb heard that his master had been made prisoner, he leftMassachusetts without hesitating an instant, arrived before Richmond, andby dint of stratagem and shrewdness, after having risked his life twentytimes over, managed to penetrate into the besieged town. The pleasure ofHarding on seeing his servant, and the joy of Neb at finding his master,can scarcely be described.

　　But though Neb had been able to make his way into Richmond, it was quiteanother thing to get out again, for the Northern prisoners were verystrictly watched. Some extraordinary opportunity was needed to make theattempt with any chance of success, and this opportunity not only did notpresent itself, but was very difficult to find.

　　Meanwhile Grant continued his energetic operations. The victory ofPetersburg had been very dearly bought. His forces, united to those ofButler, had as yet been unsuccessful before Richmond, and nothing gave theprisoners any hope of a speedy deliverance.

　　The reporter, to whom his tedious captivity did not offer a singleincident worthy of note, could stand it no longer. His usually active mindwas occupied with one sole thought--how he might get out of Richmond at anycost. Several times had he even made the attempt, but was stopped by someinsurmountable obstacle. However, the siege continued; and if the prisonerswere anxious to escape and join Grant's army, certain of the besieged wereno less anxious to join the Southern forces. Among them was one JonathanForster, a determined Southerner. The truth was, that if the prisoners ofthe Secessionists could not leave the town, neither could the Secessioniststhemselves while the Northern army invested it. The Governor of Richmondfor a long time had been unable to communicate with General Lee, and hevery much wished to make known to him the situation of the town, so as tohasten the march of the army to their relief. Thus Jonathan Forsteraccordingly conceived the idea of rising in a balloon, so as to pass overthe besieging lines, and in that way reach the Secessionist camp.

　　The Governor authorized the attempt. A balloon was manufactured andplaced at the disposal of Forster, who was to be accompanied by five otherpersons. They were furnished with arms in case they might have to defendthemselves when they alighted, and provisions in the event of their aerialvoyage being prolonged.

　　The departure of the balloon was fixed for the 18th of March. It shouldbe effected during the night, with a northwest wind of moderate force, andthe aeronauts calculated that they would reach General Lee's camp in a fewhours.

　　But this northwest wind was not a simple breeze. From the 18th it wasevident that it was changing to a hurricane. The tempest soon became suchthat Forster's departure was deferred, for it was impossible to risk theballoon and those whom it carried in the midst of the furious elements.

　　The balloon, inflated on the great square of Richmond, was ready todepart on the first abatement of the wind, and, as may be supposed, theimpatience among the besieged to see the storm moderate was very great.

　　The 18th, the 19th of March passed without any alteration in the weather.There was even great difficulty in keeping the balloon fastened to theground, as the squalls dashed it furiously about.

　　The night of the 19th passed, but the next morning the storm blew withredoubled force. The departure of the balloon was impossible.

　　On that day the engineer, Cyrus Harding, was accosted in one of thestreets of Richmond by a person whom he did not in the least know. This wasa sailor named Pencroft, a man of about thirty-five or forty years of age,strongly built, very sunburnt, and possessed of a pair of bright sparklingeyes and a remarkably good physiognomy. Pencroft was an American from theNorth, who had sailed all the ocean over, and who had gone through everypossible and almost impossible adventure that a being with two feet and nowings would encounter. It is needless to say that he was a bold, dashingfellow, ready to dare anything and was astonished at nothing. Pencroft atthe beginning of the year had gone to Richmond on business, with a youngboy of fifteen from New Jersey, son of a former captain, an orphan, whom heloved as if he had been his own child. Not having been able to leave thetown before the first operations of the siege, he found himself shut up, tohis great disgust; but, not accustomed to succumb to difficulties, heresolved to escape by some means or other. He knew the engineer-officer byreputation; he knew with what impatience that determined man chafed underhis restraint. On this day he did not, therefore, hesitate to accost him,saying, without circumlocution, "Have you had enough of Richmond, captain?"

　　The engineer looked fixedly at the man who spoke, and who added, in a lowvoice,--

　　"Captain Harding, will you try to escape?"

　　"When?" asked the engineer quickly, and it was evident that this questionwas uttered without consideration, for he had not yet examined the strangerwho addressed him. But after having with a penetrating eye observed theopen face of the sailor, he was convinced that he had before him an honestman.

　　"Who are you?" he asked briefly.

　　Pencroft made himself known.

　　"Well," replied Harding, "and in what way do you propose to escape?"

　　"By that lazy balloon which is left there doing nothing, and which looksto me as if it was waiting on purpose for us--"

　　There was no necessity for the sailor to finish his sentence. Theengineer understood him at once. He seized Pencroft by the arm, and draggedhim to his house. There the sailor developed his project, which was indeedextremely simple. They risked nothing but their lives in its execution. Thehurricane was in all its violence, it is true, but so clever and daring anengineer as Cyrus Harding knew perfectly well how to manage a balloon. Hadhe himself been as well acquainted with the art of sailing in the air as hewas with the navigation of a ship, Pencroft would not have hesitated to setout, of course taking his young friend Herbert with him; for, accustomed tobrave the fiercest tempests of the ocean, he was not to be hindered onaccount of the hurricane.

　　Captain Harding had listened to the sailor without saying a word, but hiseyes shone with satisfaction. Here was the long-sought-for opportunity--hewas not a man to let it pass. The plan was feasible, though, it must beconfessed, dangerous in the extreme. In the night, in spite of theirguards, they might approach the balloon, slip into the car, and then cutthe cords which held it. There was no doubt that they might be killed, buton the other hand they might succeed, and without this storm!--Withoutthis storm the balloon would have started already and the looked-foropportunity would not have then presented itself.

　　"I am not alone!" said Harding at last.

　　"How many people do you wish to bring with you?" asked the sailor.

　　"Two; my friend Spilett, and my servant Neb."

　　"That will be three," replied Pencroft; "and with Herbert and me five.But the balloon will hold six--"

　　"That will be enough, we will go," answered Harding in a firm voice.

　　This "we" included Spilett, for the reporter, as his friend well knew,was not a man to draw back, and when the project was communicated to him heapproved of it unreservedly. What astonished him was, that so simple anidea had not occurred to him before. As to Neb, he followed his masterwherever his master wished to go.

　　"This evening, then," said Pencroft, "we will all meet out there."

　　"This evening, at ten o'clock," replied Captain Harding; "and Heavengrant that the storm does not abate before our departure.

　　Pencroft took leave of the two friends, and returned to his lodging,where young Herbert Brown had remained. The courageous boy knew of thesailor's plan, and it was not without anxiety that he awaited the result ofthe proposal being made to the engineer. Thus five determined persons wereabout to abandon themselves to the mercy of the tempestuous elements!

　　No! the storm did not abate, and neither Jonathan Forster nor hiscompanions dreamed of confronting it in that frail car.

　　It would be a terrible journey. The engineer only feared one thing; itwas that the balloon, held to the ground and dashed about by the wind,would be torn into shreds. For several hours he roamed round the nearly-deserted square, surveying the apparatus. Pencroft did the same on hisside, his hands in his pockets, yawning now and then like a man who did notknow how to kill the time, but really dreading, like his friend, either theescape or destruction of the balloon. Evening arrived. The night was darkin the extreme. Thick mists passed like clouds close to the ground. Rainfell mingled with snow. it was very cold. A mist hung over Richmond. itseemed as if the violent storm had produced a truce between the besiegersand the besieged, and that the cannon were silenced by the louderdetonations of the storm. The streets of the town were deserted. It had noteven appeared necessary in that horrible weather to place a guard in thesquare, in the midst of which plunged the balloon. Everything favored thedeparture of the prisoners, but what might possibly be the termination ofthe hazardous voyage they contemplated in the midst of the furiouselements?--

　　"Dirty weather!" exclaimed Pencroft, fixing his hat firmly on his headwith a blow of his fist; "but pshaw, we shall succeed all the same!"

　　At half-past nine, Harding and his companions glided from differentdirections into the square, which the gas-lamps, extinguished by the wind,had left in total obscurity. Even the enormous balloon, almost beaten tothe ground, could not be seen. Independently of the sacks of ballast, towhich the cords of the net were fastened, the car was held by a strongcable passed through a ring in the pavement. The five prisoners met by thecar. They had not been perceived, and such was the darkness that they couldnot even see each other.

　　Without speaking a word, Harding, Spilett, Neb, and Herbert took theirplaces in the car, while Pencroft by the engineer's order detachedsuccessively the bags of ballast. It was the work of a few minutes only,and the sailor rejoined his companions.

　　The balloon was then only held by the cable, and the engineer had nothingto do but to give the word.

　　At that moment a dog sprang with a bound into the car. It was Top, afavorite of the engineer. The faithful creature, having broken his chain,had followed his master. He, however, fearing that its additional weightmight impede their ascent, wished to send away the animal.

　　"One more will make but little difference, poor beast!" exclaimedPencroft, heaving out two bags of sand, and as he spoke letting go thecable; the balloon ascending in an oblique direction, disappeared, afterhaving dashed the car against two chimneys, which it threw down as it sweptby them.

　　Then, indeed, the full rage of the hurricane was exhibited to thevoyagers. During the night the engineer could not dream of descending, andwhen day broke, even a glimpse of the earth below was intercepted by fog.

　　Five days had passed when a partial clearing allowed them to see the wideextending ocean beneath their feet, now lashed into the maddest fury by thegale.

　　Our readers will recollect what befell these five daring individuals whoset out on their hazardous expedition in the balloon on the 20th of March.Five days afterwards four of them were thrown on a desert coast, seventhousand miles from their country! But one of their number was missing, theman who was to be their guide, their leading spirit, the engineer, CaptainHarding! The instant they had recovered their feet, they all hurried to thebeach in the hopes of rendering him assistance.