Part 2, Chapter 10 of 800 Leagues on the Amazon. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kristine 800 Leagues on the Amazon by Jules Verne Part 2, The Cryptogram Chapter 10, A Canon Shot Benito then had disappeared beneath the Wast Sheet, which still covered the corpse of the adventurer. Ah, if he had had the power to divert the waters of the river, to turn them into vapor, or to drain them off, if he could have made the Frias basin dry downstream from the bar up to the influx of the Rio Negro, the case hidden in tourist clothes would already have been in his hand. His father's innocence would have been recognized. Joan da Costa, restored to liberty, would have again started on the descent of the river, and what terrible trials would have been avoided. Benito had reached the bottom. His heavy shoes made the gravel on the bed crunch beneath him. He was in some 10 or 15 feet of water, at the base of the cliff, which was here very steep, and at the very spot where Torres had disappeared. Near him was a tangled mass of reeds and twigs, and aquatic plants all laced together, which assuredly, during the resurgence of the previous day, no pole could have penetrated. It was consequently possible that the body was entangled among the submarine shrubs, and still in the place where it had originally fallen. Hereabouts, thanks to the eddy produced by the prolongation of one of the spurs, running out into the stream, the current was absolutely nil. Benito guided his movements by those of the raft, which the long poles of the Indians kept just over his head. The light penetrated deep through the clear waters, and the magnificent sun shining in a cloudless sky show its rays down into them unchecked. Under ordinary conditions at a depth of some 20 feet in water, the view becomes seemingly blurred, but here the waters seem to be impregnated with the laminar fluid, and Benito was able to descend still lower without the darkness concealing the riverbed. The young man slowly made his way along the bank, with his iron-shot spear he propped the plants and rubbish accumulated along its foot. Flocks of fish, if we can use such an expression, escaped on all sides from the dense thickets like flocks of birds. It seemed as though the thousand pieces of a broken mirror glimmered through the waters.  Notwithstanding that Benito did not leave a single point of the river and explored, he never caught sight of the object of his search. He noticed, however, that the slope of the riverbed was very abrupt, and he concluded that tourists had rolled beyond the eddy toward the center of the stream. If so, he would probably still recover the body, for the current could hardly touch it at the depths, which was already great and seemed sensibly to increase. Benito then resolved to pursue his investigations on the side where he had begun to probe the vegetation. This was why he continued to advance in that direction, and the raft had to follow him during a quarter of an hour, as had been previously arranged. The quarter of an hour had elapsed, and Benito had found nothing. He felt the need of ascending to the surface, so as to once more experience those physiological conditions in which he could recope with his strengths. In certain spots where the depths of the river necessitated it, he had had to descend about 30 feet. He had thus to support a pressure, almost equal to an atmosphere, with the result of the physical fatigue and mental agitation which attacks those who are not used to this kind of work. Benito then pulled the communication cord, and the men on the raft commenced to hold him in, but they worked slowly, taking a minute to draw him up two or three feet, so as not to produce in his internal organs the dreadful effects of the compression. As soon as the young man had set foot on the raft, the metallic sphere of the diving dress was raised, and he took a long breath and sat down to rest. The pyrox immediately roared alongside. Manuel Fragoso and Araujo came close to him, waiting for him to speak. Well, asked Manuel, still nothing, nothing. Have you not seen a trace? Not one. Shall I go down now? No, Manuel, answered Benito. I have begun. I know where to go. Let me do it. Benito then explained to the pilot that his intention was to visit the lower part of the bank up to the Bar of Frias. For there the slope had perhaps stopped the corpse. If, floating between the two streams, it had in the least degree been affected by the current. But first he wanted to skirt the bank and carefully explore a sort of hall, formed in the slope of the bed to the bottom of which the poles had evidently not been able to penetrate. Araujo approved of this plan and made the necessary preparations. Manuel gave Benito a little advice. As you want to pursue your search on that side, he said, the raft will have to go over there obliquely. But mind what you are doing, Benito. This is much deeper than where you have been yet. It may be 50 or 60 feet, and you will have to support a pressure of quite two atmospheres. Only venture with the extreme caution or you may lose your presence of mind or no longer know where you are or what to do. If your head feels as if in a vice and your ears tingle, do not hesitate to give us the signal and we will at once hold you up. You can then begin again if you like, as you will have got accustomed to move about in the deeper parts of the river. Benito promised to attend to these hints of which he recognized the importance. He was particularly struck with the fact that his presence of mind might abandon him at the very moment he wanted it most. Benito shook hands with Manuel. The sphere of the diving dress was again screwed to his neck, the pump began to work and the diver once more disappeared beneath the stream. The raft was then taken about 40 feet along the left bank, but as it moved towards the center of the river the current increased in strength, the upas were moored and the rovers kept it from drifting, so as only to allow it to advance with extreme slowness. Benito descended very gently and again found himself on the firm sand. When his heels touched the ground it could be seen by the length of the haulage cord that he was at a depth of some 65 or 70 feet. He was therefore in a considerable hole, excavated far below the ordinary level. The liquid medium was more obscure, but the limpidity of these transparent waters still allowed the light to penetrate sufficiently for Benito to distinguish the objects scattered on the back of the river and to approach them with some safety. Besides the sand sprinkled with makeup legs seemed to form a sort of reflector and the very grains could be counted glittering like luminous dust. Benito moved on, examining and sounding the smallest cavities with his spear. He continued to advance very slowly. The communication cord was paid out and as the pipes which served for the inlet and outlet of the air were never tightened the pump was worked under the proper conditions. Benito turned off so as to reach the middle of the bed of the Amazon where there was the greatest depression, sometimes profound obscurity sickened around him and then he could see nothing, so feeble with the light, but this was a purely passing phenomenon and due to the raft which floating above his head intercepted the solar rays and made the night replace the day. An instant afterward the huge shadow would be dissipated and the reflection of the sands appear again in full force. All the time Benito was going deeper. He felt the increase of the pressure with which his body was wrapped in by the liquid mass. His respiration became less easy. The retractability of his organs no longer worked with as much ease as in the midst of an atmosphere more conveniently adapted for them and so he found himself under the action of physiological effects to which he was unaccustomed. The rumbling grew louder in his ears but as his throat was always lucid as he felt that the action of his brain was quite clear even a little more so than usual. He delayed giving the signal for return and continued to go down deeper still. Suddenly in the subdued light which surrounded him his attention was attracted by a confused mass. It seemed to take the form of a corpse entangled beneath a clump of aquatic plants. Intense excitement seized him. He stepped towards the mass with his spear he felt it. It was the carcass of a huge Kaiman already reduced to a skeleton and which the current of the Rio Negro had swept into the bed of the Amazon. Benito recoiled and in spite of the assertions of the pilot the soldier cured to him that some living Kaiman might even then be met with in the deeps near the bar of Raias. But he repelled the idea and continued his progress so as to reach the bottom of the depression. And now he had arrived at a depth of from 80 to 100 feet and consequently was experiencing a pressure of three atmospheres. If then this cavity was also drown blank he would have to suspend his researches. Experience has shown that the extreme limit for such submarine explorations lies between 120 and 130 feet and that below this there is a great danger the human organism not only being hindered from performing his functions under such a pressure but the apparatus failing to keep up a sufficient supply of air with the desirable regularity. But Benito with resolve to go as far as his mental powers and physical energies would let him. By some strange presentment he was drawn towards this abyss. It seemed to him as though the corpse was very likely to have rolled to the bottom of the hole and that torus if he had any heavy things about him such as a belt containing either money or arms would have sunk to the very lowest point. Of a sudden in a deep hollow he saw a body through the gloom.  Was that torus? In the obscurity then very dense he found it difficult to see but it was a human body that laser less than 10 paces off and perfectly motionless. A sharp pang shot through Benito his heart for an instant ceased to beat. He thought he was going to lose consciousness by a supreme effort he recovered himself. He stepped towards the corpse. Suddenly a shock as violent as unexpected made his whole frame vibrate. A long whip seemed to twine around his body and in spite of the thick diving dress he felt himself lashed again and again. A gimnotus he said. It was the only word that passed his lips. In fact it was a buraco the name given by the Brazilians to the gimnotus or electric snake which had just attacked him. It is well known that a gimnotus is a kind of eel with a blackish slimy skin furnished along the back and tail with an apparatus composed of plates joined by vertical lamellae and acted on by nerves of considerable power. This apparatus is endowed with singular electrical properties and is apt to produce very formidable results. Some of these gimnotuses are about the length of a common snake. Others are about 10 feet long while others which however are rare even reach 15 or 20 feet and are from 8 to 10 inches in diameter. Gimnotuses are plentiful enough both in the Amazon and its tributaries and it was one of these living coils about 10 feet long which after uncurving itself like a bow again attacked the diver. Benito knew what he had to fear from this formidable animal. His clothes were powerless to protect him. The discharges of the gimnotus at first somewhat weak became more and more violent and there would come a time when exhausted by the shocks he would be rendered powerless. Benito unable to resist the blows half dropped upon the sand. His limbs were becoming paralyzed little by little under the electric influences of the gimnotus which lightly touched his body as it wrapped him in its folds. His arms even he could not lift and soon his spear escaped him and his hand had not strength enough left to pull the cord and give the signal. Benito felt that he was lost. Neither manual nor his companions could suspect the horrible combat which was going on beneath them between the formidable poractu and the unhappy diver who only fought to suffer without any power of defending himself. And that at the moment when a body the body of tourists without a doubt had just made his view. By a supreme instinct of self-preservation Benito uttered a cry. His voice was lost in the metallic sphere from which not a sound could escape. And now the poracu redoubled his attacks. It gave forth shock after shock which made Benito rise on the sand like the sections of a divided worm and his muscles were wrenched again and again beneath the living lash. Benito thought that all was over. His eyes grew dim. His limbs began to stiffen. But before he quite lost his power of sight and reason he became the witness of a phenomenon unexpected inexplicable and marvelous in the extreme. A deadend roar resounded through the liquid depths. It was like a thunder clap. The reverberations of which rolled along the riverbed then violently agitated by the electrical discharges of the gimnotus. Benito felt himself based as it were in the dreadful booming which found an echo in the very deepest of the river depths. And then a last cry escaped him. For fearful was the vision which appeared before his eyes. The corpse of the drowned man which had been stretched on the sand arose. The undulations of the water lifted up the arms and they swayed about as if with some peculiar animation. Convulsive drops made the movement of the corpse still more alarming. It was indeed the body of Torres. One of the sun's rays shut down to it through the liquid mass and Benito recognized the blooded, ashy features of the scoundrel who fell by his own hand and whose last breath had left him beneath the waters. And while Benito could not make a single movement with his paralyzed limbs, while his heavy shoes kept him down as if he had been nailed to the sand, the corpse straightened itself up, the head swayed to and fro, and disentangling itself from the hole in which it had been kept by a mass of aquatic weeds, it slowly ascended to the surface of the Amazon. End of Chapter 10 Part 2 Chapter 11 of 800 Leagues on the Amazon This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Kristina 800 Leagues on the Amazon by Jules Verne Part 2 The Cryptogram Chapter 11 The Contents of the Case What was it that had happened? A purely physical phenomenon of which the following is the explanation. The gunboat Santa Ana, bound for Maniaos, had come up the river and passed the bar of Trias. Just before she reached the embouchure of the Rio Negro, she hoisted her colors and saluted the Brazilian flag. At the report, vibrations were produced along the surface of the stream, and these vibrations making their way down to the bottom of the river had been sufficient to raise the corpse of Torres, already lightened by the commencement of its decomposition and the distention of its cellular system. The body of the drowned man had in the ordinary course risen to the surface of the water. This well-known phenomenon explains the reappearance of the corpse, but it must be admitted that the arrival of the Santa Ana was a fortunate coincidence. By a short from Manuel, repeated by all his companions, one of the pirogs was immediately steered for the body, while the diver was at the same time hauled up to the raft. Great was Manuel's emotion when Benito, drowned on the platform, was laid there in a state of complete ineptia, not a single exterior movement betraying that he still lived. Was not this a second corpse which the waters of the Amazon had given up? As quickly as possible the diving dress was taken off him. Benito had entirely lost consciousness beneath the violent shocks of the gimnotus. Manuel distracted cold to him, breathed into him, and endeavored to recover the hurtful session. It beats, it beats, he exclaimed. Yes, Benito's heart did still beat, and in a few minutes Manuel's efforts restored him to life. The body, the body! Such were the first words, the only ones which escaped from Benito's lips. There it is, answered Rogosov, pointing to a pirog, then coming up to the raft with the corpse. But what has been the matter, Benito? asked Manuel. Has it been the want of air? No, said Benito. Apuratu attacked me. The noise, the detonation. A cannon shot, replied Manuel. It was the cannon shot which brought the corpse to the surface. At this moment the pirog came up to the raft with the body of Torres, which had been taken on board by the Indians. His sojourn in the water had not disfigured him very much. He was easily recognizable and there was no doubt as to his identity. Rogosov kneeling down in the pirog had already begun to undo the losses of the torrent men which came away in fragments. At the moment Torres' right arm, which was now left bare, attracted his attention. On it there appeared the distinct scar of an old wound produced by a blow from a knife. That scar, exclaimed Rogosov. But that is good, I remember now. What demanded Manuel? Aquarelle, yes, Aquarelle I witnessed in the province of Madeira three years ago. How could I have forgotten it? The Torres was then a captain of the woods. Ah, and now know where I had seen him this scoundrel. That does not matter to us now, cried Benito. The case, the case. Has he still got that? And Benito was about to tear away the last coverings of the corpse to get at it. Manuel stopped him. One moment Benito, he said, and then turning to the men on the raft who did not belong to the Cangada and whose evidence could not be suspected at any future time. Just take note, my friends, he said, of what we are doing here, so that you can relate before the magistrate what has passed. The men came up to the pirog. Fragozo undid the belt, which uncircled the body of Torres underneath the torn poncho, and feeling his breast pocket exclaimed, the case. A cry of joy escaped from Benito. He stretched forward to seize the case, to make sure that it contained. No, again interrupted Manuel, whose coolness did not forsake him. It is necessary that not the slightest possible doubt should exist in the mind of the magistrate. It is better that, disinterested, witnesses should affirm that this case was really found on the corpse of Torres. You are right, replied Benito. My friend said Manuel to the foreman of the raft, just feel in the pocket of the waistcoat. The foreman obeyed. He drew forth a metal case with the cover screwed on, and which seemed to have suffered in no way from its sojourn in the water. The paper is the paper still inside, exclaimed Benito, who could not contain himself. It is for the magistrate to open this case, answered Manuel. To him alone belongs the duty of verifying that the document was found within it. Yes, yes, again you are right, Manuel, said Benito. To Manuel's, my friends, to Manuel's. Benito, Manuel Throgoso and the foreman who held the case immediately jumped into one of the pirogs and were starting off when Throgoso said, on the corpse, the pirog stopped. In fact, the Indians had already thrown back the body into the water, and it was drifting away down the river. Torres was only a scoundrel, said Benito.  And so orders were given to the second pirog to recover the corpse and take it to the bank to await its burial. But at the same moment a flock of birds of prey, which skimmed along the surface of the stream, pounced on the floating body. They were Urubus, a kind of small vulture, with naked necks and long claws, and black as crows. In South America they are known as Galinazos, and their voracity is unparalleled. The body torn open by their beaks gave forth the gases which inflated it. Its density increased, it sunk down little by little, and for the last time what remained of Torres disappeared beneath the waters of the Amazon. Ten minutes afterward the pirog arrived at Maniaos. Benito and his companions jumped ashore and hurried through the streets of the town. In a few minutes they had reached the dwelling of Judge Jorias and informed him through one of his servants that I wished to see him immediately. The judge ordered them to be shown into his study. There Manuel recounted all that had passed from the moment when Torres had been killed until the moment when the case had been found on his corpse and taken from his breast pocket by the foreman. Although this recital was of a nature to corroborate, all that Rohamed Acosta had said on the subject of Torres and of the bargain which he had endeavored to make, Judge Jorias could not restain a smile of incredulity. There is the case, sir, said Manuel, for not a single instant has it been in our hands, and the man who gives it to you is he who took it from the body of Torres. The magistrate took the case and examined it with care, turning it over and over as though it were made of some precious material. Then she shook it and a few coins inside soured it with a metallic ring. Did not then the case contain the document, which had been so much thought after, that document written in the very hand of the true author of the crime of T'Choco, and which Torres had wished to sell at such an ignoble price to Rohamed Acosta. Was this material proof of the convict's innocence irrevocably lost? We can easily imagine the violent agitation which had seized upon the spectators of this scene. Benito could scarcely utter a word. He felt his heart ready to burst. Open it, sir, open the case, he at last exclaimed in a broken voice. Judge Jorias began to unscrew the lid. Then, when the cover was removed, he turned up the case, and from it a few pieces of gold dropped out and rolled on the table. But the paper, the paper, again gasped Benito, who clutched hold of the table to save himself from falling. The magistrate put his fingers into the case and drew out, not without difficulty, a faded paper, folded with care, on which the water did not seem to have even touched. The document, that is the document, shorted for Gossel, that is the very paper I saw in the hands of Jorias. Judge Jorias unfolded the paper and cast his eyes over it, and then he turned it over so as to examine it on the back and the front, which were both covered with writing. A document it really is, said he, there is no doubt of that. It is indeed a document. Yes, replied Benito, and that is the document which proves my father's innocence. I do not know that, replied Judge Jorias, and I am much afraid it will be very difficult to know it. Why, exclaimed Benito, who became pale as death? Because this document is a cryptogram, and, well, we have not got the key. End of Chapter 11, The Contents of the Case Part II Chapter 12 of Eight Hundred Leagues on the Amazon This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Scott Robbins. Eight Hundred Leagues on the Amazon by Jules Verne Part II The Cryptogram Chapter 12 The Document This was a contingency which neither Juan Chacosta nor his people could have anticipated. In fact, as those who have not forgotten the first scene in the story are aware, the document was written in a disguised form in one of the numerous systems used in cryptography. But in which of them? To discover this would require all the ingenuity of which the human brain was capable. Before dismissing Benito and his companions, Judge Jarriquez had an exact copy made of the document, and, keeping the original, handed it over to them after due comparison, so that they could communicate with the prisoner. Then, making an appointment for the morrow, they retired. And not wishing to lose an instant in seeing Juan Chacosta, they hastened on to the prison, and there, in a short interview, informed him of all that had passed. Juan Chacosta took the document and carefully examined it. Shaking his head, he handed it back to his son. Perhaps, he said, there is therein written the proof I shall never be able to produce. But if that proof escapes me, if the whole tenor of my life does not bleed for me, I have nothing more to expect from the justice of men, and my fate is in the hands of God. And all felt it to be so. If the document remained indecipherable, the position of the convict was a desperate one. We shall find it, Father, exclaimed Benito. Now, never was a document of this sort, yet which could stand in examination. Have confidence. Yes, confidence. Heaven has, so to speak, miraculously given us the paper which vindicates you, and, after guiding our hands to recover it, it will not refuse to direct our brains to unravel it. Juan Chacosta shook hands with Benito in Manuel. And then the three young men, much agitated, returned to the Jangada, where Yaquita was awaiting them. Yaquita was soon informed of what had happened since the evening, the reappearance of the body of Torres, the discovery of the document, and the strange form under which the real culprit, the companion of the adventurer, had thought proper to write his confession, doubtless, so that it should not compromise him if it fell into strange hands. Naturally, Lino was informed of this unexpected complication, and of the discovery made by Thragosu that Torres was an old captain of the woods, belonging to the gang who were employed about the mouths of the Madeira. But under what circumstances did you meet him? asked the young mulatto. It was during one of my runs across the province of Amazonas, replied Thragosu, when I was going from village to village working at my trade. And the scar? What happened was this. One day I arrived at the mission of Aranas, at the moment that Torres, whom I had never before seen, had picked a quarrel with one of his comrades, and a bad lot they are, and this quarrel ended with a stab from a knife, which entered the arm of the captain of the woods. There was no doctor there, and so I took charge of the wound, and that is how I made his acquaintance. What does it matter, after all? replied the young girl, that we know what Torres had been. He was not the author of the crime, and it does not help us in the least. No, it does not, answered Thragosu, for we shall end by reading the document, and then the innocence of Zranja Costa will be palpable to the eyes of all. This was likewise the hope of Yakita, of Penitl, of Manuel, and of Minya, and, shot up in the house, they passed long hours in endeavouring to decipher the writing. But if it was their hope, and there is no need to insist on that point, it was none the less that of Judge Arikis. Having drawn up his report at the end of his examination, establishing the identity of Zranja Costa, the magistrate had sent it off to headquarters, and therewith he thought he had finished with the affair. It could not well be otherwise. On the discovery of the document, Arikis suddenly found himself face to face with the study of which he was a master. He, the seeker after numerical combinations, the solver of amusing problems, the answer of charades, rebuses, local griffs, and such things, was at last in his true element. At the thought that the document might be the case, at the thought that the document might perhaps contain the justification of Zranja Costa, he felt all the instinct of the analyst aroused, here before his very eyes was a cryptogram, and so from that moment he thought of nothing but how to discover its meaning, and it is scarcely necessary to say that he made up his mind to work at it continuously, even if he forgot to eat or drink. After the departure of the young people, Judge Arikis installed himself in his study. His door, barred against everyone, assured him of several hours of perfect solitude. His spectacles were on his nose, his snuff-box on the table. He took a good pinch so as to develop the finesse and sagacity of his mind. He picked up the document and became absorbed in meditation, which soon became materialized in the shape of a monologue. The worthy justice was one of those unreserved men who think more easily allowed than to himself. Let us proceed with method, he said. No method, no logic, no logic, no success. Then, taking the document, he ran through it from beginning to end, without understanding it in the least. The document contained a hundred lines which were divided into half a dozen paragraphs. Hum, said the judge after a little reflection. To try every paragraph, one after the other, would be to lose precious time, and be of no use. I had better select one of these paragraphs, and take the one which is likely to prove the most interesting. Which of them would do this better than the last, where the recital of the whole affair is probably summed up? Proper names might put me on the track. Among others, that of Shrondra Costa, if he had anything to do with this document, and his name will evidently not be absent from its concluding paragraph. The magistrate's reasoning was logical, and he was decidedly right in bringing all his resources to bear, in the first place, on the gist of the cryptogram, as contained in its last paragraph.  At the outset, Judge Jarríquez noticed that the lines of the document were not divided either into words or phrases, and that there was a complete absence of punctuation. This fact could render the reading of the document more difficult. Let us see, however, he said, if there is not some assemblage of letters which appears to form a word. I mean a pronounceable word, whose number of consonants is in proportion to its vowels. And at the beginning, I see the word p h y. Further on the word, g a s. Halloo!  Does that mean the African town on the banks of Tanganyika? What has that got to do with all this? Further on here is the word y p o. Is it Greek then?  And before that, we have got r e d and l e t. That is good. Those are two English words. Then o h e s y k, then r y m once more, and then the word o t o. Judge Jadikus let the paper drop and thought for a few minutes. All the words I see in this thing seem queer, he said. In fact, there is nothing to give a clue to their origin.  To say nothing of these series of consonants, which are not wanted in any human pronunciation, most assuredly will not be very easy to find the key to this cryptogram. The magistrate's fingers commence to beat a tattoo on his desk, a kind of revay to arouse his dormant faculties. Let us see, he said, how many letters there are in the paragraph. He counted them pen and hand. Two hundred and seventy-six, he said. Well now, let us try what proportion these different letters bear to each other. This occupied him for some time. The judge took up the document, and with his pen and hand he noted each letter in alphabetical order. In a quarter of an hour he had obtained the following table. A. Three times. B. Four. C. Three. D. Sixteen. E. Nine. F. Ten. G. Thirteen. H. Twenty-three. I. Four. J. Eight. K. Nine. L. Nine. M. Nine. N. Nine. O. Twelve. P. Sixteen. Q. Sixteen. R. Twelve. S. Ten. T. Eight. U. Seventeen. V. Thirteen. X. Twelve. Y. Nineteen. Z. Twelve. Total. Two hundred and seventy-six times. Ah! Ah! he exclaimed. One thing strikes me at once, and that is that in this paragraph all the letters of the alphabet are not used. That is very strange. If we take up a book and open it by chance, it will be very seldom that we shall hit upon two hundred and seventy-six letters without all the signs of the alphabet figuring among them. After all it may be chance, and then he passed to a different train of thought. One important point is to see if the vowels and consonants are in their normal proportion. And so he seized his pen, counted up the vowels, and obtained the following result. A. Three times. E. Nine. I. Four. O. Twelve. U. Seventeen. Y. Nineteen. Total. Two hundred and seventy-six times. And thus there are in this paragraph, after we have done our subtraction, sixty-four vowels and two hundred and twelve consonants. Good! That is the normal proportion. That is about a fifth, as in the alphabet, when there are six vowels among twenty-six letters. It is possible, therefore, that the document is written in the language of our country, and that the only signification of each letter is changed. If it has been modified in the regular order, and if B is always represented by an L, and O by a V, a G by a K, a U by an R, etc., I will give up my judgeship if I do not read it. What can I do better than follow the method of that great analytical genius Edgar Allan Poe? Judge Jarríkes, herein alluded to a story by the great American romance-er, which is a masterpiece, who has not read the gold bug. In this novel of cryptogram composed of ciphers, letters, algebraic signs, asterisks, full stops, and commas, is submitted to a truly mathematical analysis, and is deciphered under extraordinary conditions, which the admirers of that strange genius can never forget. On the reading of the American document depended only a treasure, while on that of this depended a man's life. Its solution was consequently all the more interesting. The magistrate, who had often read and reread his gold bug, who was perfectly acquainted with the steps in the analysis so minutely described by Edgar Poe, and he resolved to proceed in the same way on this occasion. In doing so, he was certain, as he had said, that if the value or signification of each letter remained constant, he would sooner or later arrive at the solution of the document. What did Edgar Poe do? he repeated. First of all, he began by finding out the sign. Here there are only letters. Let us say the letter, which was reproduced the oftenest. I see that that is H, for it is met with 23 times. This enormous proportion shows to begin with, that H does not stand for H, but on the contrary, it represents the letter which recurs most frequently in our language, for I suppose the document is written in Portuguese. In English or French, it would certainly be E. In Italian, it would be I or A. In Portuguese, it will be A or O. Now let us say that it signifies A or O. After this was done, the judge found out the letter which occurred most frequently after H, and so on, and he formed the following table. Now the letter A only occurs thrice, exclaimed the judge, and it ought to occur the oftenest. Ah, that clearly proves that the meaning has been changed. And now, after A or O, what are the letters which figure oftenest in our language? Let us see. With truly remarkable sagacity, which denoted a very observant mind, started on this new quest. In this he was only imitating the American romancer, who, great analyst as he was, had by simple induction been able to construct an alphabet, corresponding to the signs of the cryptogram, and by means of it, to eventually read the Pirate's Parchment note with ease. The magistrate set to work in the same way, and we may affirm that he was no wit inferior to his illustrious master. Thanks to his previous work at local grips and squares, rectangular arrangements, and other enigmas, which depend only on arbitrary disposition of the letters, he was already pretty strong in such mental pastimes. On this occasion, he sought to establish the order in which the letters were reproduced. Vowels first, consonants afterwards. Three hours had elapsed since he began. He had before his eyes an alphabet which, if his procedure were right, would give him the right meaning of letters in the document. He had only to successively apply the letters of his alphabet to those of his paragraph. But before making this application, some slight emotion seized upon the judge. He fully experienced the intellectual gratification, much greater perhaps, would be thought of the man who, after hours of obstinate endeavor, saw the impatiently soft-boar sense of the logo-gryph coming into view. Now let us try, he said, and I shall be very much surprised if I have not got the solution of the enigma. Judge Jariques took off his spectacles and wiped the glasses. Then he put them back again and bent over the table. His special alphabet was in one hand, the cryptogram, and the other. He commenced to write, under the first line of the paragraph, the true letters, which, according to him, ought to correspond exactly with each of the cryptographic letters. As with the first line, so did he with the second and the third, and the fourth, until he reached the end of the paragraph. Oddity as he was, he did not stop to see as he wrote if the assemblage of letters made intelligible words. Now, during the first stage, his mind refused all verification of that sort. What he desired was to give himself the ecstasy of reading it all straight off at once. And now he had done. Let us read, he exclaimed. And he read. Good heavens! What a cacophony! The lines he had formed with the letters of his alphabet had no more sense in them than those of the document. It was another series of letters, and that was all. They formed no word, they had no value. In short, they were just as hieroglyphic. Confound the thing, exclaimed Judge Heddy-Giss. End of Chapter 12 The Document Recording by Scott Robbins Chapter 13 Is it a matter of figures? It was seven o'clock in the evening. Judge Jariques had all the time then absorbed in working at the puzzle, and was no further advanced, and had forgotten the time of repast and the time of repose when there came a knock at his study door. It was time. An hour later in all the cerebral substance of the vexed magistrate would certainly have evaporated under the intense heat into which he had worked his head. At the order to enter, which was given in an impatient tone, the door opened and Manuel presented himself. The young doctor had left his friends on board the jongala and worked on the indecipherable document, and had come to see Judge Jariques. He was anxious to know if he had been fortunate in his researches. He had come to ask if he had at length discovered the system on which the cryptogram had been written. The magistrate was not sorry to see Manuel come in. He was in that state of excitement that solitude was exasperating to him. He wanted someone to speak to, someone as anxious to penetrate the mystery as he was. Manuel was just the man. Sir, said Manuel as he entered, one question. Have you succeeded better than we have? Sit down first, exclaimed Judge Jariques, who got up and began to pace the room. Sit down. If we are both of us standing, you will walk one way and I shall walk the other, and the room will be too narrow to hold us. Manuel sat down and repeated his question. No, I have not had any success, replied the magistrate. I do not think I am any better off. I have got nothing to tell you, but I have found out a certainty. What is that, sir? That the document is not based on conventional signs, but on what is known in cryptology as a cipher, that is to say, on a number. Well, sir, answered Manuel, cannot a document of that kind always be read? Yes, said Jariques. If a letter is invariably represented by the same letter, if an A, for example, is always a P, and a P is always an X. If not, it cannot. And in this document? In this document the value of the letter changes with the arbitrarily selected cipher, which necessitates it. So a B will in one place be represented by a K, which will later on become a Z, later on a U, or an N, or an F, or any other letter. And then? And then I am sorry to say the cryptogram is indecipherable. Indecipherable, exclaimed Manuel. No, sir, we shall end by finding the key of the document on which the man's life depends. Manuel had risen, a prey to the excitement he could not control. The reply he had received was too hopeless, and he refused to accept it for good. At a gesture from the judge, however, he sat down again, and in a calmer voice, asked, And in the first place, sir, what makes you think that the basis of this document is a number, or as you call it, a cipher? Listen to me, young man, replied the judge, and you will be forced to give in to the evidence. The magistrate took the document and put it before the eyes of Manuel, and showed him what he had done. I began, he said, by treating this document in the proper way, that is to say logically, leaving nothing to chance. I applied to it an alphabet based on the proportion that the letters bear to one another, which is usual in our language, and I sought to obtain the meeting by following the precepts of our immortal analyst, Edgar Poe. Well, what succeeded with him collapsed with me. Collapsed, exclaimed Manuel. Yes, my dear young man, and I at once saw that success sought in that fashion was impossible, in truth a stronger man than I might have been deceived. But I should like to understand, said Manuel, and I do not. Take the document, continued Jaegeriques. First look at the disposition of the letters and read it through. Manuel obeyed. Do you not see that the combination of several of the letters is very strange? asked the magistrate. I do not see anything, said Manuel, after having for perhaps the hundredth time read through the document. Well, study the last paragraph. There you understand the sense of the whole is bound to be summed up. Do you see anything abnormal? Nothing. There is however one thing which absolutely proves that the language is subject to the laws of number. And that is, that is that you see three H's coming together in two places. What Jaegeriques said was correct. It was of a nature to attract attention. The 204th, 205th, and 206th letters of the paragraph, and the 258th, the 259th, and 260th letters of the paragraph were consecutive H's. At first this peculiarity had not struck the magistrate. And that proves, asked Manuel, without dividing the deduction that could be drawn from the combination, that simply proves that the basis of the document is a number. It shows a priori that each letter is modified in virtue of the ciphers of the number and according to the place which it occupies. And why? Because in no language will you find words with three consecutive repetitions of the letter H. Manuel was struck with the argument. He thought about it, and in short had no reply to make. And had I made the observation sooner, continued the magistrate, I might have spared myself a good deal of trouble and a headache which extends from my occiput to my cinciput. But sir, asked Manuel, who felt the little hope vanishing on which he had hitherto rested, what do you mean by a cipher? Tell me a number. Any number you like. Give me an example and you will understand the explanation better. Judge Jarríquez sat down at the table, took up a sheet of paper and a pencil, and said, Now, Mr. Manuel, let us choose a sentence by chance, the first that comes, for instance. Judge Jarríquez has an ingenious mind. I write this phrase so as to space the letters different, and I get J-U-D-G-E-J-A-R-R-I-Q-U-E-Z-H-A-S-A-N-I-N-G-E-N-I-U-S-M-I-N-D. That done, said the magistrate, to whom the phrase seemed to contain a proposition beyond dispute, looking Manuel straight in the face. Suppose I take a number by chance, so as to give a cryptographic form to this natural succession of words. Suppose now this word is composed of three ciphers, and let the ciphers be two, three, and four. Now on the line below I put the number two, three, four, and repeat it as many times as are necessary to get to the end of the phrase, and so that every cipher comes underneath a letter. This is what we get. J-2-U-3-D-4-G-2-E-3-J-4-A-2-R-3-R-4-I-2-Q-3-U-4-E-2-Z-3-H-4-A-2-S-3-A-4-N-2-I 3-N-4-G-2-E-3-N-4-I-2-O-3-U-4-S-2-M-3-I-4-N-2-D-3.  If on account of the value of the ciphers which compose the number, I come to the end of the alphabet without having enough complimentary letters to deduct, I begin at the beginning. That is what happens at the end of my name when the z is replaced by the 3. As after z, the alphabet has no more letters, I commence to count from a, and so get the c. That done when I get to the end of this cryptographic system made up of the 234, which was arbitrarily selected, do not forget. The phrase which you recognize above is replaced by L, X, H, I, H, N, C, U, V, K, T, Y, G, C, L, V, E, P, L, R, I, H, R, K, R, Y, U, P, M, P, G. And now young man just look at it, and do you not think it is very much like what is in the document? Well what is the consequence? Why that the signification of the letters depends on a cipher, which chance puts beneath them, and the cryptographic letter which answers to a true one is not always the same. So in this phrase the first j is represented by an L, the second by an N, the first E by an H, the second P a G, the third by an H, the first D is represented by an H, the last by a G, the first U by an X, the last by a Y, the first and second A is by a C, the last by an E, and in my own name one R is represented by U, the other by a V, and so on. Now do you see that if you do not know the cipher 234, you will never be able to read the lines and consequently, if we do not know the number of the document, it remains undecipherable. On hearing the magistrate reason with such careful logic, Manuel was at first overwhelmed. But raising his head he exclaimed, No, sir, I will not renounce the hope of finding the number. We might have done so, answered Judge Erikes, if the lines of the document had been divided into words. And why? For this reason, young man, I think we can assume that in the last paragraph, all that is written in these earlier paragraphs is summed up. Now I am convinced that in it will be found the name of Juan Jacosta. Well, if the lines had been divided into words, in trying the words one after the other, I mean the words comprised of seven letters, as the name of Jacosta is, it would not have been impossible to evolve the number, which is the key of the document. Will you explain to me how you ought to proceed to do that, sir? asked Manuel, who probably caught a glimpse of one more hope. Nothing can be more simple, answered the Judge. Let us take, for example, one of the words in the sentence we have just written, my name, if you like. It is represented in the cryptogram by this queer succession of letters, N-C-U-V-K-T-Y-G-C. While arranging these letters in a column, one under the other, and then placing against them the letters of my name, and deducting one from the other the numbers of their places in alphabetical order, I see the following result. Between N and J we have four letters, C-A-2-U-R-3-V-R-4-K-I-2-T-Q-3-Y-U-4. G-E-2-C-Z-3 Now what is the column of ciphers made up of that we have got by this simple operation? Look here, 4-2-3-4-2-3-4-2-3. That is to say of repetitions of the numbers 4-2-3, or 2-3-4, or 3-4-2. Yes, that is it, answered Manuel. You understand, then, by this means that in calculating the true letter from the false, instead of the false from the true, I have been able to discover the number with ease, and the number I was in search of is really the 2-3-4 which I took as the key of my cryptogram. Well, sir, exclaimed Manuel, if that is so, the name of Dacosta is in the last paragraph, and taking successively each letter of those lines for the first of the seven letters which compose his name, we ought to get, that would be impossible, interrupted the judge, except on one condition. What is that? That the first cipher of the number should happen to be the first letter of the word Dacosta, and I think you will agree with me that that is not probable. Quite so, said Manuel, who with this improbability saw the last chance vanish. And so we must trust to chance alone, continued Jadikas, who shook his head, and chance does not often do much in things of this sort. But still, said Manuel, chance might give us this number. This number, exclaimed the magistrate, this number, but how many ciphers is it composed of? Of 2 or 3 or 4 or 9 or 10. Is it made of different ciphers, only, or of ciphers in different order, many times repeated? Do you not know, young man, that with the ordinary 10 ciphers, using all at a time, but without any repetition you can make 3,268,800 different numbers, and that if you use the same cipher more than once in the number, these millions of combinations will be enormously increased? And do you not know that if we employ every one of the 525,600 minutes of which the year is composed to try at each of these numbers, it would take you six years, and that you would want three centuries if each operation took you an hour? No, you asked the impossible. Impossible, sir? answered Manuel. An innocent man has been branded as guilty, and Giorgio Costa is to lose his life and his honor while you hold in your hands the material proof of his innocence. That is what is impossible. Ah, young man, exclaimed Jadikis.  Who told you that he really did have in his hands a document written by the author of the crime, that this paper was the document and that this document refers to Giorgio Costa? Who told me so? repeated Manuel. And his face was hidden in his hands. In fact, nothing could prove for certain that the document had anything to do with the affair in the diamond province. There was, in fact, nothing to show that it was not utterly devoid of meaning and that it had been imagined by Torres himself, who was as capable of selling a false thing as a true one. It does not matter, Manuel, continued the judge rising. It does not matter. Whatever it may be to which the document refers, I have not yet given up discovering the cipher. After all, it is worth more than a logograph for a rebus. At these words Manuel rose, shook hands with the magistrate, and returned to the jongada, feeling more hopeless when he went back than when he set out. End of Chapter 13 Is it a matter of figures? Recording by Scott Robbins Part 2, Chapter 14 of 800 Leagues on the Amazon This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Scott Robbins 800 Leagues on the Amazon Part 2, The Cryptogram Chapter 14 Chance A complete change took place in public opinion on the subject of Juan Jacosta. To anger succeeded pity. The population no longer thronged to the prison of Manaus to roar out cries of death to the prisoner. On the contrary, the most forward of them in accusing him of being the principal author of the crime of Chijuku now avert that he was not guilty and demanded his immediate restoration to liberty. Thus it always is with the mob, from one extreme they run to the other, but the change was intelligible. The events which had happened during the last few days, the struggle between Benito and Torres, the search for the corpse which had reappeared under such extraordinary circumstances, the finding of the indecipherable document, if we can so call it, the information it concealed, the assurance that it contained, or rather the wish that it contained, the material proof of the guiltlessness of Juan Jacosta, and the hope that it was written by the real culprit, all these things had contributed to work the change in public opinion. What the people had desired and impatiently demanded forty-eight hours before, they now feared, and that was the arrival of the instructions due from Rio de Janeiro. These, however, were not likely to be delayed. Juan Jacosta had been arrested on the twenty-fourth of August, and examined next day. The judge's report was sent off on the twenty-sixth. It was now the twenty-eighth. In three or four days more, the minister would have come to a decision regarding the convict. It was only too certain that justice would take its course. There was no doubt that such would be the case. On the other hand, that the assurance of Jacosta's innocence would appear from the document, was not doubted by anybody, neither by his family, nor by the fickle population of Manaus, who excitedly followed the phases of this dramatic affair. But, on the other hand, in the eyes of disinterested or indifferent persons who were not affected by the event, what value could be assigned to this document, and how could they even declare that it referred to the crime in the Diamond Arayao? It existed. That was undeniable. It had been found on the corpse of Torres. Nothing could be more certain. It could even be seen by comparing it with the letter in which Torres gave the information about Juan Jacosta that the document was not in the handwriting of the adventurer. But, as had been suggested by Judge Jariques, why should not the scoundrel have invented it for the sake of his bargain? And this was less unlikely to be the case, considering that Torres had declined apart with it until after his marriage with Jacosta's daughter. That is to say, when it would have been impossible to undo an accomplished fact. All these views were held by some people in some form, and we can quite understand what interest the affair created. In any case, the situation of Juan Jacosta was most hazardous. If the document were not deciphered, it would be just the same as if it did not exist. And if the secret of the cryptogram were not miraculously divined or revealed before the end of the three days, the supreme sentence would inevitably be suffered by the doomed man of Chijuco. And this miracle a man attempted to perform. The man was Jariques, and he now really set to work more in the interest of Juan Jacosta than for the satisfaction of his analytical faculties.  Was not this man who had voluntarily abandoned his retreated Iquitos, who had come at the risk of his life to demand his rehabilitation at the hands of Brazilian justice, a moral enigma worth all the others put together? And so the judge had resolved never to leave the document until he had discovered the cipher. He set to work at it in a fury. He ate no more. He slept no more. All his time was passed in inventing combinations of numbers, in forging a key to force this lock. This idea had taken possession of Jariques' brain at the end of the first day, suppressed frenzy, consumed him, and kept him in a perpetual heat. His whole house trembled. His servants, black or white, dared not come near him. Fortunately he was a bachelor. Had there been him at Amjariques, she would have had a very uncomfortable time of it. Never had a problem so taken possession of this oddity, and he had thoroughly made up his mind to get at the solution, even if his head exploded like an overheated boiler under the tension of its vapor. It was perfectly clear to the mind of the worthy magistrate that the key to the document was a number, composed of two or more ciphers. But what this number was all investigations seemed powerless to discover. This was the enterprise on which Jariques, in quite a fury, was engaged, and during this 28th of August he brought all his faculties to bear on it, and worked away almost superhumanly. To arrive at the number by chance, he said, was to lose himself in millions of combinations, which would absorb the life of a first-rate calculator. But if he could in no respect reckon on chance, was it impossible to proceed by reasoning? Decidedly not. And so it was to reason till he became unreasoning that Judge Jariques gave himself up after vainly seeking repose in a few hours of sleep. He who ventured in upon him at this moment, after braving the formal defenses which protected his solitude, would have found him, as on the day before, in his study, before his desk, with the document under his eyes, that thousands of letters of which seemed all jumbled together and flying about his head. Ah! he exclaimed. Why did not the scoundrel who wrote this write the words in this paragraph? We might, we will try, but no. However, if there is anything here about the murderer and the robbery, two or three words there must be in it. Arayong, Diamond, Chijuco, Jakosta, and others. And in putting down their cryptological equivalents the number could be arrived at. But there is nothing, not a single break. Not one word by itself. One word of two hundred and seventy-six letters. I hope the wretch may be blessed two hundred and seventy-six times for complicating his system in this way. He ought to be hanged two hundred and seventy-six times. And a violent thump with his fist on the document emphasized this charitable wish. But, continued the magistrate, if I cannot find one of the words in the body of the document, I might at least try my hand at the beginning and end of each paragraph. There may be a chance there that I ought not to miss. And impressed with this idea, Judge Zharikas successively tried if the letters which commenced to finish the different paragraphs could be made to correspond with those which formed the most important word, which was sure to be found somewhere, that of Jakosta. He could do nothing of the kind. In fact, to take only the last paragraph with which he began, the formula was P equals D, H equals A, Y equals C, F equals O, S equals S, L equals T, Y equals A. Now, the very first letter, Zharikas was stopped in his calculations. For the difference in alphabetical position between the D and the P, gave him not one cipher, but two. Namely, twelve. And in this kind of cryptograph, only one letter can take the place of another. And was the same for the seven last letters of the paragraph, P, S, U, V, J, H, D, of which the series also commences with the P, and which in no case could stand for the D in Jakosta, because these letters were in like manner twelve spaces apart. So it was not his name that figured here. The same observation applies to the words Arayau and Chijuku, which were successively tried, but whose construction did not correspond with the cryptographic series. After he had got so far, Judge Zharikas, with his head nearly splitting, arose and paced his office, went for fresh air to the window, and gave utterance to a growl, the noise of which a flock of hummingbirds, murmuring among the foliage of a mimosa tree, but took themselves to flight. Then he returned to the document.  The humbug, the rascal, he hissed. It will end by driving me mad, but steady. Be calm. Don't let our spirits down. This is not the time. And then, having refreshed himself by giving his head a thorough sluicing with cold water, let us try another way, he said. And as I cannot hit upon the number from the arrangement of the letters, let us see what number the author of the document would have chosen in confessing that he was the author of the crime at Chijuku. This was another method for the magistrate to enter upon, and maybe he was right, for there was a certain amount of logic about it. And first let us try a date. Why should not the culprit have taken the date of the year in which Jakosta, the innocent man he allowed to be sentenced, in his own place, was born? Was he likely to forget a number which was so important to him? Then Juan Jakosta was born in 1804. Let us see what 1804 will give us as a cryptographical number. And Judge Jariques wrote the first letters of the paragraph, and putting over them the number 1804 repeated thrice he obtained 1P8H0Y4J1S8L0Y4D 1D8Q0F4D Then in counting up the spaces in alphabetical order, he obtained S-Blank Y-F R-D Y-Blank C-I-F Blank And this was meaningless, and he wanted three letters which he had to replace by points, because the ciphers 8, 4, and 4, which command the three letters H, D, and D, do not give corresponding letters in ascending the series. That is not it again, exclaimed Jariques. Let us try another number. And he asked himself if, instead of this first date, the author of the document had not rather selected the date of the year in which the crime was committed. This was in 1826. And so, proceeding above, he obtained 1P8H2Y6J 1S8L2Y6D 1D8Q2F6D And that gave O-BlankVD R-D-V-Blank C-I-D-Blank The same meaningless series, the same absence of sense, as many letters wanting is in the former instance, and for the same reason. Bother the number, exclaimed the magistrate. We must give it up again. Let us have another one. Perhaps the rascal chose the number of contos representing the amount of the booty. Now, the value of the stolen diamonds was estimated at 834 contos, or about 2,500,000 francs. And so the formula became 8P3H4Y8J3S4L 8Y3D4D 8Q3F4D And this gave a result as little gratifying as the others. H-E-T-V-P-H-P-A-Blank-I-C-Blank Confound the document, and him who imagined it, shouted Jericho throwing down the paper, which was wafted to the other side of the room, it would try the patience of a saint. But the short burst of anger passed away, and the magistrate, who had no idea of being beaten, picked up the paper. What he had done with the first letters and paragraphs, he did with the last, and to no purpose. Then he tried everything his excited imagination could suggest. He tried in succession the numbers which represented Jericho's this age, which would have been known to the author of the crime, the date of his arrest, the date of the sentence at the Vierica Assisesis, and the date fixed for the execution, et cetera, et cetera, even the number of victims of Jericho. Nothing, all the time, nothing. Judgericus had worked himself into such a state of exasperation that there really was some fear that his mental faculties would lose their balance. He jumped about and twisted about, and wrestled about as if he really had got hold of his enemy's body. Then suddenly he cried, Now for a chance, Heaven help me now, logic is powerless. His hand seized a bell-pull hanging near his table. The bell rang furiously, and the magistrate strode up to the door, which he opened. Bobo! he shouted. A moment or two elapsed. Bobo was afraid Negro, who was a privileged servant of Jericho. He did not appear. It was evident that Bobo was afraid to come into his master's room. Another ring at the bell, soon, for his own safety, pretended to be deaf on this occasion. And now a third ring at the bell, which unhitched the crank and broke the cord. This time Bobo came up. What is it, sir? asked Bobo, prudently waiting on the threshold. Advance without uttering a single word, replied the judge whose flaming eyes made the Negro quake again. Bobo advanced. Bobo! said Judicus. Attend to what I say and answer immediately. Do not even take time to think, or I... Bobo, with fixed eyes and open mouth, brought his feet together like a soldier and stood at attention. Are you ready? asked his master. I am. Now then tell me without a moment's thought you understand the first number that comes into your head. Seventy-six thousand two hundred twenty-three. Answered Bobo all in a breath. Bobo thought he would please his master by giving him a pretty large one. Judge Judicus had run to the table, and pencil in hand had made out a formula with the number given by Bobo, in which Bobo had, in this way, only given him at a venture. It is obvious that it was most unlikely that a number such as seventy-six thousand two hundred twenty-three was the key of the document, and it produced no other result of Judicus, such a vigorous ejaculation that Bobo disappeared like a shot. End of Chapter 14 Chance. Part 2 Chapter 15 of 800 Leagues on the Amazon This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org 800 Leagues on the Amazon by Jules Verne Part 2 The Cryptogram Chapter 15 The Last Efforts The magistrate, however, was not the only one who passed his time unprofitably. Benito, Manuel, and Minha tried all they could together to extract the secret from the document on which depended their father's life and honor. On his part, Frugoso, aided by Lena, could not remain quiet, but all their ingenuity failed, and the numbers still escaped them. Why don't you find it, Frugoso? asked the young mulatto. I will find it, answered Frugoso. And he did not find it. Here we should say that Frugoso had an idea of a project of which he had not even spoken to Lena, but which had taken full possession of his mind. This was to go in search of the gang to which the ex-captain of the woods had belonged, and to find out the actual author of this cipher document, which was supposed to be the confession of the culprit of Tuwuko. The part of the Amazon where these people were employed, the very place where Frugoso had met Torres a few years before, was not very far from Manaos. He would only have to descend the river for about fifty miles to the mouth of the Madeira, a tributary coming in on the right, and there he was almost sure to meet the head of these Capitas de Mato to which Torres belonged. In two days, or three days at the outside, Frugoso could get into communication with the old comrades of the adventurer. Yes, I could do that, he repeated to himself, but what would be the good of it supposing I succeeded? If we are sure that one of Torres' companions has recently died, would that prove him to be the author of this crime? Would that show that he gave Torres a document in which he announced himself the author of this crime and exonerated Yom Jakosta? Would that give us the key of the document? No, two men only knew the cipher, the culprit and Torres, and these two men are no more. So reasoned Frugoso. It was evident that his enterprise would do no good, but the thought of it was too much for him. The irresistible influence impelled him to set out, although he was not even sure of finding the band on the Madeira. In fact, it might be engaged in some other part of the province, and to come up with it might require more time than Frugoso had at his disposal. And what would be the result? It is nonetheless true, however, that on the 29th of August, before sunrise, Frugoso, without saying anything about the Madeira, arrived at Manaus and embarked in one of the Egoritas which daily descend the Amazon. And great was the astonishment when he was not seen on board and did not appear during the day. No one, not even Lena, could explain the absence of so devoted a servant at such a crisis. Some of them even asked and not without reason if the poor fellow rendered desperate at having, when he met him and was treated to bringing Torres on board the raft, had not made away with himself. But if Frugoso could so reproach himself, how about Benito? In the first place at Equitos he had invited Torres to visit the Fesenda, in the second place he had brought him on board the Yangeta to become a passenger on it, and in the third place, in killing him, he had annihilated the only witness whose evidence could save Benito considered himself responsible for everything, the arrest of his father, and the terrible events of which it had been the consequence. In fact, had Torres been alive, Benito could not tell but that, in some way or another, from pity or for reward he would have finished by handing over the document. Would not Torres, whom nothing could compromise, have been persuaded to speak had money been brought to bear upon him? Would the long sought-for proof have been furnished to the judge? Yes, undoubtedly, and the only man who could have furnished this evidence had been killed through Benito. Such was what the wretched man continually repeated to his mother, to Manuel, and to himself. Such were the cruel responsibilities which his conscience laid to his charge. Between her husband, with whom she passed all the time that was and her son, a prey to despair which made her tremble for his reason, the brave Yaquita lost none of her moral energy. In her they found the valiant daughter of Magalhes, the worthy wife of the fazender of Equitos. The attitude of Yom de Costa was well adapted to sustain her in this ordeal. That gallant man, that rigid Puritan, that austere worker whose whole life had been a battle had not yet shown a moment of weakness. The most terrible blow which had struck him without prostrating him had been the death of Judge Rabiro, in whose mind his innocence did not admit of a doubt. Was it not with the help of his old defender that he had hoped to strive for his rehabilitation? The intervention of Torres he had regarded throughout as being quite secondary for him, and of this document he had no knowledge when to hand himself over to the justice of his country. He only took with him moral proofs. When a material proof was unexpectedly produced in the course of the affair, before or after his arrest, he was certainly not the man to despise it. But if, on account of regrettable circumstances, the proof disappeared, he would find himself once more in the same position as when he passed the Brazilian frontier. You came to say, Here is my past life, here is my present, here is an entirely honest existence of work and devotion which I bring you. You passed on me at first an erinous judgment. After twenty-three years of exile I have come to give myself up. Here I am, judge me again. The death of Torres, the impossibility of reading the document found on him, had thus not produced on Yom da Costa the impression which it had on his children, his friends, his household, and all who were interested in him. I have faith in my innocence, he repeated to Yaquita, as I have faith in God. If my life is still useful to my people, and a miracle is necessary to save me, that miracle will be performed. If not, I shall die. God alone is my judge. The excitement increased and the affair was discussed with unexampled acerbity. In the midst of this enthrallment of public opinion, which evoked so much of the mysterious, the document was the principal object of conversation. At the end of this fourth day not a single person doubted but that it had contained the vindication of the doomed man. Everyone had been given an opportunity of deciphering its incomprehensible condense, for the diario do grand para had reproduced it in facsimile. Autograph copies were spread about in great numbers at the suggestion of Manuel, who neglect nothing that might lead to the penetration of the mystery, not even chance that nickname of Providence as someone has called it. In addition a reward of one hundred contos, or three hundred thousand francs, was promised to anyone who could ever so fruitlessly sought after and read the document. This was quite a fortune, and so people of all classes forgot to eat, drink, or sleep to attack this unintelligible cryptogram. Up to the present, however, all had been useless, and probably the most ingenious analysts in the world would have spent their time in vain. It had been advertised that any solution should be sent without delay to Judge Jarquez, whose house in God the Sun Street, but the evening of the 29th of August came, and none had arrived, nor was any likely to arrive. Of all those who took up the study of the puzzle, Judge Jarquez was one of the most to be pitied. By a natural association of ideas he also joined in the general opinion that the document referred to the affair at Tehuco, and that it had been written by Judge Jarquez. And so he put even more ardor into his search for the he. It was not only the art for art's sake which guided him, it was a sentiment of justice, of pity toward a man suffering under an unjust condemnation. If it is the fact that a certain quantity of phosphorus is expended in the work of the brain, it would be difficult to say how many milligrams the Judge had parted and, after all, to find out nothing, absolutely nothing. But Jarquez had no idea of abandoning the inquiry. If he could only now trust a chance, he would work on for that chance. He tried to evoke it by all means possible and impossible. He had given himself over to fury and anger, and what was worse, to impotent anger. During the latter part of this day he had been trying numbers selected arbitrarily and how many of them can scarcely be imagined. Had he had the time he would not have shrunk from plunging into the millions of combinations of which the ten symbols of numeration are capable. He would have given his whole life to it at the risk of going mad before the year was out. Mad was he not that already? He had the idea that the document might be read through the round and exposed it to the light and tried it in that way. Nothing, the numbers already thought of and which he tried in this new way gave no result. Perhaps the document read backward and the last letter was really the first, for the author would have done this had he wished to make the reading more difficult. Nothing, the new combination only furnished a series of letters just as enigmatic. At eight o'clock his face and his hands, knocked up, worn out mentally and physically, had neither strength to move, to speak, to think, or to associate one idea with another. Suddenly a noise was heard outside. Almost immediately, notwithstanding his formal orders, the door of his study was thrown open. Benito and Manuel were before him. Benito looking dreadfully pale and Manuel supporting him for the unfortunate young man had to support himself. The magistrate quickly arose. What is it, gentlemen? What do you want? he asked. The cipher, the cipher, exclaimed Benito, mad with grief, the cipher of the document. Do you know it then? shouted the judge. No, sir, said Manuel, but you? Nothing, nothing, nothing gasped Benito, and in a paroxysm of despair he took a knife from his belt into his breast, had not the judge and Manuel jumped forward and managed to disarm him. Benito, said Jarquez, in a voice which he tried to keep calm, if your father cannot escape the expiation of a crime which is not his, you could do something better than kill yourself. What? said Benito. Try and save his life. How? That is for you to discover, answered the magistrate, and not for me to say. End of Part 2, Chapter 15. Part 2, Chapter 16 of 800 Leagues on the Amazon. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. 800 Leagues on the Amazon by Jules Verne. Part 2, The Cryptogram, Chapter 16 Preparations. On the following day, the 30th of August, Benito and Manuel talked matters over together. They had understood the thought to which the judge had not dared give utterance in their presence, and were engaged in devising some means by which the condemned man could escape the penalty of the law. Nothing else was left for them to do. It was only too certain that for the authorities, at Rio de Janeiro, the undeciphered document would have no value that it would be a dead letter that the first verdict which declared Yom de Costa, the perpetrator of the crime at Tehuico, would not be set aside, and that as in such cases no commutation of the sentence was possible, the order for his execution would inevitably be received. Once more then, Yom de Costa would have to escape by flight from an unjust imprisonment. It was at the outset agreed between the two young men that the secret should be carefully kept, and that neither Yaquita nor Minha should be informed of preparations which would probably only give rise to hopes destined never to be realized. Who could tell if, owing to some unforeseen circumstance, the attempt at escape would not prove a miserable failure? The presence of Fregoso on such an occasion would have been most valuable. Discreet and devoted, his services would have been most important to the two young fellows, but Fregoso had not reappeared. Lena, when asked, could only say that she knew not what had become of him, nor why he had left the raft without telling her anything about it. And assuredly, had Fregoso foreseen that things would have turned out as they were doing, he would never have left the Dacosta family on an expedition which appeared to promise no serious result. Far better for him to have assisted in the escape of the doomed man than to have hurried off in search of the former comrades of Torres. But Fregoso was away and his assistants had to be dispensed with. At daybreak Benito and Manuel left the raft and proceeded to Manaos. They soon reached the town and passed through its narrow streets which, at that early hour, were quite deserted.  The waste-ground, amid which the old convent which served for a long time of detention was built, was traversed by them in all directions for they had come to study it with the utmost care. Fifty-five feet from the ground and an angle of the building they recognized the window of the cell in which Yom Dacosta was confined. The window was secured with iron bars in a miserable state of repair which it would be easy to tear down or cut through if they could only get near enough. The badly-jointed stones in the wall crumbled away every here and there offered many a ledge for the feet to rest on if only a rope could be fixed to climb by. One of the bars had slipped out of its socket and formed a hook over which it might be possible to throw a rope. That done one or two of the bars could be removed so as to permit a man to get through. Benito and Manuel would then have to make their way into the prisoner's room and without much difficulty escape could be managed by means of the rope fastened to the projecting iron. During the night if the sky were very cloudy none of these operations would be noticed before the day dawned. Yom Dacosta could get safely away. Manuel and Benito spent an hour about the spot taking care not to attract attention but examining the locality with great exactness particularly as regarded the position of the window the arrangement of the iron bars and the place from which it would be best to throw the line. That is agreed, said Manuel at last, and now Yom Dacosta to be told about this? No, Manuel. Neither to him, any more than to my mother ought we to impart this secret of an attempt in which there is such a risk of failure. We shall succeed Benito, continued Manuel. However we must prepare for everything and in case the chief of the prison should discover us at the moment to escape, we shall have money enough to purchase his silence answered Benito. Good, replied Manuel, but once your father is out of prison he cannot remain hidden in the town or on the Yunganda. Where is he to find refuge? This was the second question to solve and a very difficult one it was. A hundred paces away from the prison, however, the wasteland was crossed by one of those canals which flow through the town of Rio Negro. This canal afforded an easy way of gaining the river if a pierogi were waiting for the fugitive. From the foot of the wall to the canal side was hardly a hundred yards. Benito and Manuel decided that about eight o'clock in the evening one of the pierogues with two strong rowers under the command of the pilot, a rojo, should start from the Yunganda. They could ascend the Rio Negro, enter the canal and the wasteland remain concealed throughout the night under the tall vegetation on the banks. But once on board, where was Yungda Costa to seek refuge? To return to Equitos was to follow a road full of difficulties and peril, and a long one in any case should the fugitive either travel across the country or by the river. Neither by horse nor poroe could he be got out of danger quickly enough and the Fizenda was no longer allowed. He would not return to it as the Fizenda, Yomgaro, but as the convict, Yomda Costa, continually in fear of his extradition. He could never dream of resuming his former life. To get away by the Rio Negro into the north of the province or even beyond the Brazilian territory would require more time than he could spare, and his first care must be to escape from immediate pursuit. The Fizenda, Yomgaro, and Yungda Costa would be found on the Amazon, but stations, village, and towns abounded on both sides of the river. The description of the fugitive would be sent to all the police and he would run the risk of being arrested long before he reached the Atlantic. And supposing he reached the coast, where and how was he to hide and wait for a passage to put the sea between the river and the river would be accessible. One, however, did offer some chance of safety, and that was to embark in the parogue, follow the canal into the Rio Negro, descend this tributary under the guidance of the pilot, reach the confluence of the rivers, and run down the Amazon along its right bank for some 60 miles during the nights, resting during the daylight and so gaining the embouchure of the Madeira. To descend from the watershed of the Cordieras is a regular waterway opening into the very heart of Bolivia. A pierogue could pass up it and leave no trace of its passage, and a refuge could be found in some town or village beyond the Brazilian frontier. There, Yom da Costa would be comparatively safe, and there for several months he could wait for an opportunity of reaching the Pacific Coast and taking passage in some vessel leaving one of its ships, and if the ship were bound for one of the states of North America he would be free. Once there he could sell the Fizenda, leave his country forever, and seek beyond the sea in the old world a final retreat in which to end an existence so cruelly and unjustly disturbed. Anywhere he might go, his family not accepting Manuel, who was bound to him by so many ties would assuredly follow without the slightest hesitation. Let us go, said Benito, we must have already before night and we have no time to lose. The young men returned on board by way of the canal bank, which led along the Rio Negro. They satisfied themselves that the passage of the pierogue would be quite possible, and that no obstacles such as locks or boats under repair were there to stop it. Then they descended the left bank of the tributary, avoiding the slowly filling streets of the town and reached the Jangada. Benito's first care was to see his mother. He felt sufficiently master of himself to assemble the anxiety which consumed him. He wished to assure her that all hope was not lost, that the mystery of the document would be cleared up, that in any case public opinion was in favor of Yom, and that in fact in face of the agitation which was being made in his favor, justice would grant all the power for the production of the material proof of his innocence. Yes, mother, he added, before tomorrow we shall be free from anxiety. May heaven grant it so, replied Dekwita, and she looked at him so keenly that Benito could hardly meet her glance. On his part, and as if by pre-arrangement, men well had tried to reassure Minha by telling her that Judge Cherquess was convinced of the innocence of Yom and would try her. I only wish he would, Manuel, answered she, endeavoring in vain to restrain her tears. And Manuel left her for the tears were also welling up in his eyes, and witnessing against the words of hope which he had just given utterance. And now the time had arrived for them to make their daily visit to the prisoner, and Dekwita and her daughter set off to Manoas. For an hour the young men were in consultation with O'Raho. They acquainted him with their plan in all its details, and they discussed not only the protected escape, but the measures which were necessary for the safety of the fugitive. O'Raho approved of everything. He undertook during the approaching night to take the pyrog up the canal without attracting any notice, and he knew its course thoroughly as far as the spot where he was to await the arrival of Yom Dekwita. To get back to the mouth of the Rio Negro was easy enough, and the pyrog would be able to pass unnoticed among the numerous craft continually descending the river. O'Raho had no objection to offer to the idea of following the Amazon down to its confluence with the Madeira. The course of the Madeira was familiar to him for quite 200 miles up, and in the midst of these thinly peopled provinces, even if pursuit took place in their direction, all attempts at capture could be easily frustrated. O'Raho's approval was most welcome to the young fellows. They had great faith in the practical good sense of the pilot, and not without reason. His zeal was undoubted, and he would assuredly have risked both life and liberty to save the Fizender of Equitos. With the utmost secrecy O'Raho at once set about his preparations. O'Raho's approval was most welcome to the young fellows. They had great faith in the Fizender of Equitos at once set about his preparations. A considerable sum in gold was handed over to him by Benito to meet all eventualities during the voyage on the Madeira. In getting the pierogue ready he announced his intention of going in search of Fragoso, whose fate excited a great deal of anxiety among his companions. He stowed away in the boat provisions for many days, and did not forget the ropes and reached the canal at the appointed time and place. These preparations evoked no curiosity on the part of the crew of the young gata, and even the two stalwart negroes were not let into the secret. They, however, could be absolutely depended on. Whenever they learned what the work of safety was in which they were engaged, when Yumda Costa, once more free, was confided to their charge, anything, even to the risk of their own lives, to save the life of their master. By the afternoon all was ready, and they had only the night to wait for. But before making a start Manuel wished to call on Judge Jarquez for the last time. The magistrate might perhaps have found out something new about the document. Benito preferred to remain on the raft and wait for the return of his mother and judge Jarquez, and was immediately admitted. The magistrate, in the study which he never quitted, was still the victim of the same excitement. The document crumpled by his impatient fingers was still there before his eyes on the table. Sir, said Manuel, whose voice trembled as he asked the question, have you received anything from Rio de Janeiro? No, answered the judge. The order has not yet come to hand, and the document? Nothing yet, exclaimed he. Everything my imagination can suggest I have tried and no result. None? Nevertheless, I distinctly see one word in the document, only one. What is that? What is the word? Fly. Manuel said nothing, but he pressed the hand which Jarquez held out to him, and returned to