One Hundred and Thirteen Degrees.--The Doctor's Reflections.--A Desperate Search.--The Cylinder goes out.--One Hundred and Twenty-two Degrees.-- Contemplation of the Desert.--A Night Walk.--Solitude.--Debility.--Joe's Prospects.--He gives himself One Day more.
The distance made by the balloon during the preceding day did not exceed ten miles, and, to keep it afloat, one hundred and sixty-two cubic feet of gas had been consumed.
On Saturday morning the doctor again gave the signal for departure.
"The cylinder can work only six hours longer; and, if in that time we shall not have found either a well or a spring of water, God alone knows what will become of us!"
"Not much wind this morning, master," said Joe; "but it will come up, perhaps," he added, suddenly remarking the doctor's ill-concealed depression.
Vain hope! The atmosphere was in a dead calm--one of those calms which hold vessels captive in tropical seas. The heat had become intolerable; and the thermometer, in the shade under the awning, indicated one hundred and thirteen degrees.
Joe and Kennedy, reclining at full length near each other, tried, if not in slumber, at least in torpor, to forget their situation, for their forced inactivity gave them periods of leisure far from pleasant. That man is to be pitied the most who cannot wean himself from gloomy reflections by actual work, or some practical pursuit. But here there was nothing to look after, nothing to undertake, and they had to submit to the situation, without having it in their power to ameliorate it.
The pangs of thirst began to be severely felt; brandy, far from appeasing this imperious necessity, augmented it, and richly merited the name of "tiger's milk" applied to it by the African natives. Scarcely two pints of water remained, and that was heated. Each of the party devoured the few precious drops with his gaze, yet neither of them dared to moisten his lips with them. Two pints of water in the midst of the desert!
Then it was that Dr. Ferguson, buried in meditation, asked himself whether he had acted with prudence. Would he not have done better to have kept the water that he had decomposed in pure loss, in order to sustain him in the air? He had gained a little distance, to be sure; but was he any nearer to his journey's end? What difference did sixty miles to the rear make in this region, when there was no water to be had where they were? The wind, should it rise, would blow there as it did here, only less strongly at this point, if it came from the east. But hope urged him onward. And yet those two gallons of water, expended in vain, would have sufficed for nine days' halt in the desert. And what changes might not have occurred in nine days! Perhaps, too, while retaining the water, he might have ascended by throwing out ballast, at the cost merely of discharging some gas, when he had again to descend. But the gas in his balloon was his blood, his very life!
A thousand one such reflections whirled in succession through his brain; and, resting his head between his hands, he sat there for hours without raising it.
"We must make one final effort," he said, at last, about ten o'clock in the morning. "We must endeavor, just once more, to find an atmospheric current to bear us away from here, and, to that end, must risk our last resources."
Therefore, while his companions slept, the doctor raised the hydrogen in the balloon to an elevated temperature, and the huge globe, filling out by the dilation of the gas, rose straight up in the perpendicular rays of the sun. The doctor searched vainly for a breath of wind, from the height of one hundred feet to that of five miles; his starting-point remained fatally right below him, and absolute calm seemed to reign, up to the extreme limits of the breathing atmosphere.
At length the feeding-supply of water gave out; the cylinder was extinguished for lack of gas; the Buntzen battery ceased to work, and the balloon, shrinking together, gently descended to the sand, in the very place that the car had hollowed out there.
It was noon; and solar observations gave nineteen degrees thirty-five minutes east longitude, and six degrees fifty-one minutes north latitude, or nearly five hundred miles from Lake Tchad, and more than four hundred miles from the western coast of Africa.
On the balloon taking ground, Kennedy and Joe awoke from their stupor.
"We have halted," said the Scot.
"We had to do so," replied the doctor, gravely.
His companions understood him. The level of the soil at that point corresponded with the level of the sea, and, consequently, the balloon remained in perfect equilibrium, and absolutely motionless.
The weight of the three travellers was replaced with an equivalent quantity of sand, and they got out of the car. Each was absorbed in his own thoughts; and for many hours neither of them spoke. Joe prepared their evening meal, which consisted of biscuit and pemmican, and was hardly tasted by either of the party. A mouthful of scalding water from their little store completed this gloomy repast.
During the night none of them kept awake; yet none could be precisely said to have slept. On the morrow there remained only half a pint of water, and this the doctor put away, all three having resolved not to touch it until the last extremity.
It was not long, however, before Joe exclaimed:
"I'm choking, and the heat is getting worse! I'm not surprised at that, though," he added, consulting the thermometer; "one hundred and forty degrees!"
"The sand scorches me," said the hunter, "as though it had just come out of a furnace; and not a cloud in this sky of fire. It's enough to drive one mad!"
"Let us not despair," responded the doctor. "In this latitude these intense heats are invariably followed by storms, and the latter come with the suddenness of lightning. Notwithstanding this disheartening clearness of the sky, great atmospheric changes may take place in less than an hour."
"But," asked Kennedy, "is there any sign whatever of that?"
"Well," replied the doctor, "I think that there is some slight symptom of a fall in the barometer."
"May Heaven hearken to you, Samuel! for here we are pinned to the ground, like a bird with broken wings."
"With this difference, however, my dear Dick, that our wings are unhurt, and I hope that we shall be able to use them again."
"Ah! wind! wind!" exclaimed Joe; "enough to carry us to a stream or a well, and we'll be all right. We have provisions enough, and, with water, we could wait a month without suffering; but thirst is a cruel thing!"
It was not thirst alone, but the unchanging sight of the desert, that fatigued the mind. There was not a variation in the surface of the soil, not a hillock of sand, not a pebble, to relieve the gaze. This unbroken level discouraged the beholder, and gave him that kind of malady called the "desert-sickness." The impassible monotony of the arid blue sky, and the vast yellow expanse of the desert-sand, at length produced a sensation of terror. In this inflamed atmosphere the heat appeared to vibrate as it does above a blazing hearth, while the mind grew desperate in contemplating the limitless calm, and could see no reason why the thing should ever end, since immensity is a species of eternity.
Thus, at last, our hapless travellers, deprived of water in this torrid heat, began to feel symptoms of mental disorder. Their eyes swelled in their sockets, and their gaze became confused.
When night came on, the doctor determined to combat this alarming tendency by rapid walking. His idea was to pace the sandy plain for a few hours, not in search of any thing, but simply for exercise.
"Come along!" he said to his companions; "believe me, it will do you good."
"Out of the question!" said Kennedy; "I could not walk a step."
"And I," said Joe, "would rather sleep!"
"But sleep, or even rest, would be dangerous to you, my friends; you must react against this tendency to stupor. Come with me!"
But the doctor could do nothing with them, and, therefore, set off alone, amid the starry clearness of the night. The first few steps he took were painful, for they were the steps of an enfeebled man quite out of practice in walking. However, he quickly saw that the exercise would be beneficial to him, and pushed on several miles to the westward. Once in rapid motion, he felt his spirits greatly cheered, when, suddenly, a vertigo came over him; he seemed to be poised on the edge of an abyss; his knees bent under him; the vast solitude struck terror to his heart; he found himself the minute mathematical point, the centre of an infinite circumference, that is to say--a nothing! The balloon had disappeared entirely in the deepening gloom. The doctor, cool, impassible, reckless explorer that he was, felt himself at last seized with a nameless dread. He strove to retrace his steps, but in vain. He called aloud. Not even an echo replied, and his voice died out in the empty vastness of surrounding space, like a pebble cast into a bottomless gulf; then, down he sank, fainting, on the sand, alone, amid the eternal silence of the desert.
At midnight he came to, in the arms of his faithful follower, Joe. The latter, uneasy at his master's prolonged absence, had set out after him, easily tracing him by the clear imprint of his feet in the sand, and had found him lying in a swoon.
"What has been the matter, sir?" was the first inquiry.
"Nothing, Joe, nothing! Only a touch of weakness, that's all. It's over now."
"Oh! it won't amount to any thing, sir, I'm sure of that; but get up on your feet, if you can. There! lean upon me, and let us get back to the balloon."
And the doctor, leaning on Joe's arm, returned along the track by which he had come.
"You were too bold, sir; it won't do to run such risks. You might have been robbed," he added, laughing. "But, sir, come now, let us talk seriously."
"Speak! I am listening to you."
"We must positively make up our minds to do something. Our present situation cannot last more than a few days longer, and if we get no wind, we are lost."
The doctor made no reply.
"Well, then, one of us must sacrifice himself for the good of all, and it is most natural that it should fall to me to do so."
"What have you to propose? What is your plan?"
"A very simple one! It is to take provisions enough, and to walk right on until I come to some place, as I must do, sooner or later. In the mean time, if Heaven sends you a good wind, you need not wait, but can start again. For my part, if I come to a village, I'll work my way through with a few Arabic words that you can write for me on a slip of paper, and I'll bring you help or lose my hide. What do you think of my plan?"
"It is absolute folly, Joe, but worthy of your noble heart. The thing is impossible. You will not leave us."
"But, sir, we must do something, and this plan can't do you any harm, for, I say again, you need not wait; and then, after all, I may succeed."
"No, Joe, no! We will not separate. That would only be adding sorrow to trouble. It was written that matters should be as they are; and it is very probably written that it shall be quite otherwise by-and-by. Let us wait, then, with resignation."
"So be it, master; but take notice of one thing: I give you a day longer, and I'll not wait after that. To-day is Sunday; we might say Monday, as it is one o'clock in the morning, and if we don't get off by Tuesday, I'll run the risk. I've made up my mind to that!"
The doctor made no answer, and in a few minutes they got back to the car, where he took his place beside Kennedy, who lay there plunged in silence so complete that it could not be considered sleep.
113度——博士的反省——无望的寻找——氢氧喷嘴熄灭了——122度——沙漠冥想——夜间漫步——孤独——昏厥——乔的计划——再缓期一天
昨天一整天，“维多利亚号”飞了不到10英里的路。但是，为了维持气球的悬浮，却消耗掉了162立方尺的气体。
星期六早上，博士发出了出发的信号。
“氢氧喷嘴只能烧6个小时了。”他告诉大家，“如果6个小时内我们还找不到水井或泉水的话，只有上帝才知道我们会怎么样了。”
“主人，今天早上没多少风呀！”乔说，“不过，也许等一会儿，风会大起来。”看到弗格森那掩饰不住的忧郁神情，他又补充道。
希望又落空了！空中死一般的寂静，一点风也没有。在热带海洋中，这种寂静会把船死死地滞留住，使它无法航行。天气热得越来越让人无法忍受了，挂在帐篷里的温度计显示温度已高达华氏113度（45摄氏度）。
乔和肯尼迪并排躺着闭目养神。他们拼命想睡上一觉，就是迷糊一阵也是好的，只要能不去想眼前的处境就行。这种迫不得已的安闲更使他们度日如年。一个人无法用工作或具体事物来摆脱自己的心事时，是最值得同情的。可是现在，没有任何事可以做，也没有任何事值得去试，总之，什么事也没有。既然无法改善处境，只能安于听命了。
他们开始越来越强烈地感受到了干渴的痛苦。白酒根本不能平息这种对水的迫切需要，相反，倒使得口更渴了。非洲土人把白酒称为“老虎奶”，的确是恰如其分。 剩下的水几乎不到2品脱，每个人都眼巴巴地盯着这一点宝贵的水，但是，谁也不肯用它来湿湿嘴唇。在一个无垠的沙漠里，2品脱水该有多重要啊！
这时，弗格森博士已陷入深深的反省中。他暗暗问自己，是不是做的不够慎重；这几天，为了使气球悬浮在空中，白白分解了不少水；当初要是把这些水留下来不是更好些吗？当然，他们是行了一点路，可是，即使飞得再远一点，又有什么用呢？既然这一带缺水，在这个纬度，少行进60英里又有什么关系呢？如果终于起风了，在那儿和在这儿还不是一样？如果刮东风的话，这儿的风可能还小些呢！但是，在希望的驱使下，弗格森仍想前进！不过这样的话，这2加仑水就要白费了。要知道，这些水足够在这片沙漠维持9天的时间，而且这9天中很可能发生一些大的变化啊！因此，或许应该留住这些水，有必要上升时就扔掉些压载物；不过以后下降时，就得白白损失一些气球里的氢气了。气球里的气可就是气球的血液，气球的生命啊！这些想法在他的头脑中绕来绕去。他低着头用双手捂着头，整整几个小时没有抬起来。
“不行， 必须作最后一搏！ ”将近10点钟时，他下定决心似的自言自语道，“就这一次了，应该试试，看能不能找到一股气流带我们离开这儿！就拿我们最后一点储备水冒冒险吧！”
在两位同伴打盹的时候，弗格森加热了气球里氢气的温度。气球在气体膨胀的作用下， 渐渐变圆，最后在正午阳光的直射下笔直向上升去。博士从100尺的高度一直找到5000尺的高空，然而，一切努力都是徒劳，空中一丝风也没有，气球一点儿没有前进，仍然停留在起飞点的上空。整个空中仿佛死一般的寂静。
最后，供给分解的水终于用光了。由于断气，燃烧嘴熄灭了，本生电池也停止了工作，“维多利亚号”渐渐瘪了下来，缓缓地落在升起前吊篮原先压过的沙面上，位置一点都没变。
天已是中午时分， 博士测出他们所在的方位是东经19度35分，北纬6度51分，距乍得湖500英里左右，距非洲西海岸400多英里。
在气球接触地面的时候，肯尼迪和乔从昏沉沉的麻木中摆脱出来。
“我们不走了吗？”苏格兰人问。
“是的，必须停下来。”塞缪尔·弗格森语气严肃地说。
同伴们立即明白了他这句话的意思。由于一路上地势越来越低，现在的地面高度与海拔高度相同，因此气球不需要氢气膨胀，刚好保持平衡，处在绝对静止状态中。
吊篮内，旅行家们的重量被相同重量的沙子所代替，他们全都下到了地面上。大家心事重重，不愿开口，一连几个小时，谁也没说一句话。乔为大家准备了饼干和干肉饼作晚餐，每人勉强吃了一点，最后各自喝了一口热水，就草草结束了这顿沉闷的饭。
夜间，没有人值班，但谁也睡不着，天气又闷又热。第二天只剩下半品脱水了，博士把这点水留了起来，3人决定不到万不得已不用它。
“我透不过气了。”过了不大会儿，乔就叫了起来，“比刚才热多了！我说呢，难怪这么热。”他看了看温度计说，温度计显示为华氏140度（60摄氏度）！
“沙子热得烫死人，就像刚出炉似的。”猎人附和道，“这个天和着了火差不多，连块云彩也没有，真要让人发疯了！”
“我们别绝望。”博士安慰道，“在这个纬度，这么热一阵子后，难免要来场暴风雨，而且说来就来，快得很。尽管天空静得让人难受，要不了一个小时，可能就会变化很大。”
“算了吧，弗格森，如果变天，总得有点兆头吧！”肯尼迪反驳道。
“不错！”博士答道，“我觉得气压表有点下降了。”
“鬼才相信你的话呢！弗格森，我们就像断了翅膀的鸟，算是被钉牢在这个鬼地方了。”
“不过，亲爱的肯尼迪，还是有些不同，我们的翅膀仍然完好无损。我还指望着它再为我们服务呢。”
“唉！风呀，风！”乔喊道，“只有风才能带我们找到小河或水井。有了风，我们就什么也不缺了。我们吃的东西足够，只要有了水，我们再等上它一个月也没问题！唉！干渴的确能要人的命！”
口干舌燥， 再加上这片眼睛躲也躲不开，看也看不完的沙漠，3人感到心烦意乱。一望无垠的沙漠，没有起伏，没有沙丘，连一块能让人看上一眼的石头也没有。这平荒大漠让人沮丧，甚至使人产生一种被称为“沙漠病”的不适症。湛蓝天空和茫茫黄沙显得死一般沉寂，令人感到无名的恐惧。在这火烧一般的空气中，整个大地如同一盘焰焰火炉，上面的热气看起来微微抖动。望着这片深远的宁静，人人心灰意冷，看不到任何希望能使这种状况得到改变，因为“无边”也就意味着“永久”。
3位旅行家在这种干燥高温的天气下， 因干渴缺水，精神开始有点迷乱，眼前时不时地产生了幻觉。他们的双眼瞪得溜圆，目光也变得呆滞无神。
夜幕降临时，博士决定快步走走，以此来克制这种令人不安的情绪。他打算用几个小时走遍附近的这块沙地，不是想找什么，只是想活动活动。
“来吧，”他招呼道，“相信我好了，这会对你们有好处。”
“不行了，我一步也走不动了。”肯尼迪回答说。
“我还是睡觉的好。”乔说。
“可是，朋友们，不管是睡觉还是休息，对你们都非常有害。你们应该动起来摆脱麻木状态。喂，来吧。”
然而，博士的建议没有得到任何响应。于是，他只好在夜晚满天星斗的闪烁下，独自一人走了。一开始，他走起来很艰难，步子踉踉跄跄，就像是一个身体衰弱，或不习惯走路的人一样，但是，他很快就认识到这种锻炼对他的身体健康很有益。他往西走了好几英里。正当精神已经振作起来时，突然，他感到一阵头晕目眩，眼前发黑，双腿发软。这块广阔的僻野顿时使他产生一种无名的恐惧。弗格森觉得自己仿佛是几何学中的一个点， 一个无穷大的圆的中心。 换句话说，什么也不是！“维多利亚号”完全消失在了黑暗中。弗格森·弗格森博士，这位总是那么镇定自若，勇敢无畏的旅行家，竟被一种无法克服的恐惧心理攫住了！他想掉头回去，然而，腿怎么也迈不动；他大声呼唤，但甚至没有招来一点回响。他的声音如同石沉大海，无声无息地消失在空间里。弗格森终于支持不住了，他孤零零地躺在这片寂静无声的沙漠中失去了知觉。
午夜时分，弗格森博士在忠实的乔的怀抱中恢复了知觉。原来，乔见主人久久未归，十分担心，就顺着博士在沙面上留下的清晰脚印找了过来，结果，发现了昏迷过去的主人。
“主人，您怎么了？”乔焦急地问。
“没什么，亲爱的乔，不过是一时的虚弱罢了。”
“的确，先生，不会有什么事的。”乔安慰道，“您能站起来吗？您靠着我，咱们回‘维多利亚号’去。”
博士倚着乔的胳膊，踏上刚才来时的路。
“先生，您这样做可不大谨慎，不能这么冒险。”说完，他又笑着开了句玩笑：“您可能会遭抢的。好了，先生，咱们认真谈谈吧。”
“你说吧，我听着。”
“咱们一定得想出个办法。情况明摆着，再这样下去拖不了几天的。到那时，如果风还不来，我们就没命了。”
博士没回答。
“这样吧！现在需要有个人出来为大家的命运作出牺牲。很显然，这就是我。”
“你说这话是什么意思？你有什么计划？”
“我的计划很简单：带点儿吃的东西。一直往前走，最后总会到某个地方，这点毫无疑问。我不在的时候，如果老天爷帮忙，送来了顺风，你们也不必等我，只管飞走好了。至于我嘛，如果能走到一个村庄，我就用您给我写下的几个阿拉伯字来应付。到那时，要么我带人来救你们，要么就是把命丢在那儿了。您认为我的计划怎么样？”
“你这是发疯，乔。不过，你这种勇敢精神值得赞赏。你的办法是行不通的，你不能离开我们。”
“先生，不管怎么说，总得做点什么呀。我这个计划对你们没有一点损害。我再给您说一遍，你们用不着等我的，除非万不得已，风一直不来。相信我好了，我会成功的！”
“不行，乔！不行！我们不能分离！那样做只会让我们苦上加苦。事情该怎么样是不可避免的，命中注定以后又将是另一种样子，所以，我们还是耐心等待吧。”
“好吧，先生。不过，我要预先告诉您，我再给您一天的时间，我不想多等。今天是星期天， 确切地说是星期一了，因为已经是凌晨1点。如果星期二我们走不成，我就要去碰碰运气了，我是铁了心要这么做的。”
博士听后没有回答。很快，他们回到了吊篮。博士挨着肯尼迪躺了下来，肯尼迪也许没睡着，但他闭着眼，静静地躺着，一声不吭。