Between the Cape and Amsterdam Island there is a distance of 2,900 miles, but with a good sea and favoring breeze, this was only a ten day’s voyage. The elements were now no longer at war with the travelers, as on their journey across the Pampas—air and water seemed in league to help them forward.
“Ah! the sea! the sea!” exclaimed Paganel, “it is the field par excellence for the exercise of human energies, and the ship is the true vehicle of civilization. Think, my friends, if the globe had been only an immense continent, the thousandth part of it would still be unknown to us, even in this nineteenth century. See how it is in the interior of great countries. In the steppes of Siberia, in the plains of Central Asia, in the deserts of Africa, in the prairies of America, in the immense wilds of Australia, in the icy solitudes of the Poles, man scarcely dares to venture; the most daring shrinks back, the most courageous succumbs. They cannot penetrate them; the means of transport are insufficient, and the heat and disease, and savage disposition of the natives, are impassable obstacles. Twenty miles of desert separate men more than five hundred miles of ocean.”
Paganel spoke with such warmth that even the Major had nothing to say against this panegyric of the ocean. Indeed, if the finding of Harry Grant had involved following a parallel across continents instead of oceans, the enterprise could not have been attempted; but the sea was there ready to carry the travelers from one country to another, and on the 6th of December, at the first streak of day, they saw a fresh mountain apparently emerging from the bosom of the waves.
This was Amsterdam Island, situated in 37 degrees 47 minutes latitude and 77 degrees 24 minutes longitude, the high cone of which in clear weather is visible fifty miles off. At eight o’clock, its form, indistinct though it still was, seemed almost a reproduction of Teneriffe.
“And consequently it must resemble Tristan d’Acunha,” observed Glenarvan.
“A very wise conclusion,” said Paganel, “according to the geometrographic axiom that two islands resembling a third must have a common likeness. I will only add that, like Tristan d’Acunha, Amsterdam Island is equally rich in seals and Robinsons.”
“There are Robinsons everywhere, then?” said Lady Helena.
“Indeed, Madam,” replied Paganel, “I know few islands without some tale of the kind appertaining to them, and the romance of your immortal countryman, Daniel Defoe, has been often enough realized before his day.”
“Monsieur Paganel,” said Mary, “may I ask you a question?”
“Two if you like, my dear young lady, and I promise to answer them.”