Chapter 27 of Captain Antefer by Jules Verharn. This Libra Vox recording is in the public domain. Recorded by Joe DeNoya, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 27 The possession of wealth leads almost inevitably to its abuse. It is the chief, if not the only cause, of all the evils which desolate the world below. The thirst for gold is responsible for the most regrettable lapses into sin. Imagine a society in which there were neither rich nor poor. What evils, afflictions, sorrows, disorders, catastrophes, disasters, tribulations, misfortunes, agonies, calamities, despair, desolation, and ruin would be unknown to man. It was the 25th of June. The church was in Edinburgh. The preacher was the Reverend Mr. Turcolmel. His eloquent address had lasted for an hour, and the attention of his congregation gave no signs of failing.  It does not say that those who are poor of spirit, imbeciles in a word, but those who are poor in spirit, may despise those abominable riches which are the source of evil in modern society. The gospel tells us to despise wealth, and if unfortunately we are afflicted with a serpent fluidity of wealth, if silver is stored in your treasure chests, if gold flows into you, if diamonds and precious stones cling to your necks, your arms, your fingers, like an unhealthy eruption, if you are among those whom men call happy in this world, although I think you are thereby unhappy, I say to you that your malady requires instant and energetic treatment if you wish to be saved. And the preacher, continuing, told us here is that their only chance of safety lay in the giving their riches over to destruction. He did not say, distribute your wealth among the poor, give to those who have none. No, what he preached was a destruction of this gold and these diamonds, and tidal deeds, and bonds and shares, either by burning them in the fire or casting them into the water. In short, the revered Mr. Turcamel would have no compromise with the habits and customs of the world in which he lived. In appearance he was a man of about fifty, tall, thin, smooth-faced, with piercing eyes, and a voice as penetrating as that of a preaching friar. Throughout the city he was well known. There were some who thought he was inspired. The people crowded to his sermons, hearers he had many, proselytes he had none. They listened, but they acted not. Among his listeners on this occasion were five strangers who knew nothing of English and would have known nothing of his discourse if a sixth stranger had not explained it to them. The six were of course Captain Antefer and Zimbuco, Ben Omar and Saouk, Tregomain and Jewel. We left them on the island in Mayumba Bay on the 28th of May. We meet them again here in Edinburgh on the 25th of June. What has happened between these dates? After the discovery of the second document, all that could be done was to abandon the island to the chimpanzees to avail themselves of the boat which had been attracted by the signals of the shipwrecked crew. Captain Antefer and his companions have returned along the shore, escorted by the chimpanzees, more demonstrative than ever, howling, growling and grimacing, and every now and then assailing the explorers with volleys of stones. The camp was reached at last. A word of truth from Saouk to Barrasso told him that the plot had failed. It was impossible to steal treasure from those who had no treasure to steal. The boat moored in a little creek near the camp, took on board all the survivors of the Port Allegrae. Two hours later she dropped anchor off the sandy spit on which stands Mayumba. Our travelers, without distinction of nationality, were hospitably received at a French factory. They at once set out arranging for their return to Luongo. Joining a party of Europeans on their way thither, they had neither to fear from the wild beasts or the natives. But the heat was almost unbearable. When they arrived, the bargeman said that he was reduced to a skeleton. It was an exaggeration, of course, but it was not far from the truth. Luckily, Captain Antefer and his companions did not have to remain at Luongo very long. A Spanish steamer from San Paul de Luanda, bound for Marseille, happened to put in two days afterwards for repairs, which were affected in a day. Birds were booked on the steamer, with some of the money saved from the wreck. And on the 15th of June, Captain Antefer and his companions left the west coast of Africa, where they found two valuable diamonds, a new document, and a new disappointment. As to Captain Barrasso, so got her took to pay him later on when he had got hold of the poshest millions, and the Portuguese had to be content with the promise. Joel made no attempt to argue with his uncle, although he fully expected that the campaign would end in some gigantic mystification.  Those two diamonds contained in the box at island number two had given him something to think about. If the Pasha, he said to himself, has made us a president of these two diamonds, why should we not find some more on island number three? And when he talked to Joel in this way, Joel would shrug his shoulders and say, well, we shall see. We shall see. This was Antefer's opinion. As the third legatee, the possessor of the latitude of the third island, lived in Edinburgh. To Edinburgh, he would go. And he had no intention of letting himself be outstripped in the race, further by either Zambuco or Ben Omar, who knew the longitude, 15 degrees, 11 minutes east, which was to be communicated to Mr. Turcamel. He would not part company with them. They would go together to Edinburgh by the quickest possible way. And Mr. Turcamel will be visited by the whole of them. Of course, this resolve was not satisfactory to Sohoog. He was now in possession of the secret, and he would much rather have acted alone, found the man mentioned in the document, obtained the position of the third island, gone there, and dug up the riches of Camelik Pasha. But he could not get away without awakening suspicion, and he knew that he was being watched by Jewel. Besides, the only way he can go was by Marseille, and as Antefer was going to Edinburgh by the shortest way, and in the shortest time, by traveling on the railways of France and England, Sohoog could not hope to get there before him. He had therefore to resign himself to the inevitable. Once matters had been cleared up with this Mr. Turcamel, perhaps the attempt, which had failed at Longo and Muscat, might succeed in Edinburgh. The passage was fairly quick, as the steamer made no calls at the byports. It was rough, certainly, and of course Ben Omar was landed like a package on the key of La Joliette. Jewel had written a long letter to Enoghain. He told her all that had happened at Longo. He informed her of the new campaign on which their uncle's obscenity was sending them. And who could say whether Caprice of the Pasha might send them in the future? He added that as far as he could see, Captain Antefer was quite equal to running about the world, like a wandering Jew, and that he would not stop until he was raving mad, which would assuredly happen before all was over. Jewel had only just time to slip this letter into the post. Antefer was off in the fast train from Marseille to Paris, then by the express from Paris to Calais, then by boat to Dover, then from Dover to London, and then by the flying Scotchman from London to Edinburgh. As soon as they had secured their rooms at Gibbs Royal Hotel, they started out in search of Mr. Turcomel, and to their great surprise, Mr. Turcomel turned out to be a minister. They found his address, and then found out that he was at the church, and to the church they went. Their intention was to introduce themselves to him when the sermon was over, to tell him their story, a man to whom they were bringing a million or so who was not likely to complain at being intruded upon. At the same time, it all seemed rather strange. What connection could have existed between Camelik Pasha and the Scottish minister? Antefer's father had saved the Egyptian's life. Well, Zimboucou had saved his riches. Well, hence the feeling of gratitude he had shown towards these two, were they to conclude that Mr. Turcomel possessed a similar right to recognition? Evidently. But under what peculiar circumstances could a minister have helped Camelik Pasha in any way? It must be so, however, for this minister was the depository of the third latitude necessary for the discovery of the third album. But when the treasure seeker saw the minister in the pulpit, it was evident that some other exclamation would have to be sought for. He could not have been more than twenty-two when Camelik was thrown into prison at Cairo by order of Mohammed Ali, and it was not likely that he could have rendered him any service before then. Was it his father or his grandfather or uncle who had put the Egyptian under an obligation? However, it was of no importance. The point was that this minister possessed the precious latitude that before the day it was out, they would know all about it. The sermon continued, the same thesis with the same impassioned eloquence, an invitation to kings to throw their civil lists into the sea, an invitation to queens to throw their diamonds into the flames, an invitation to the rich to destroy every scrap of their wealth. Julsat astounded, muttering to himself, here is another complication. Decided the uncle will have no chance with this man. Could this be the sort of man the Pasha knew? Is it from this excited minister that we are to ask the means of discovering a treasure? This man would be only too eager to destroy it, and if it ever fell into his hands. Here is an obstacle we never expected, an insurmountable obstacle which will bring our proceedings to a close. We shall get a preemptory refusal, a refusal to which we cannot reply, a refusal which will bring the reverent gentleman immense popularity. That will settle my uncle and his mind will give way. Sibuco and he, and perhaps this Nazine, will do all they dare to get the secret of the minister. They are capable of everything. What if he keeps the secret? I do not know if, as he says, millions did not bring happiness, but running after those of the Egyptians certainly delayed mine. And if Mr. Turkimel refuses to cross this latitude with our longitude, which we have conquered at so much trouble, we could do nothing else than retire tranquilly to France, and, when God commands, we must obey, said the preacher at this moment. That is my opinion, thought Jewel, and my uncle will have to submit. But the sermon did not end, and there seemed no reason why it should not last until eternity. Antifa and the banker began to give visible marks of impatience. So Turk bit his mustache. The notary, so long as he was not on a shipboard, did not worry himself about anything.  If, said Antifa, he only knew the news I am bringing him, this preacher would soon get out of his pulpit. Would he, asked Jewel, in a tone so singular that Antifa frowned at him in a terrible way? But all things must end in this world, even a Scottish sermon. It had become evident that Mr. Turkumel had reached his parloration. His delivery became more labored, his gestures more violent, his metaphors more audacious, his obligations more menacing. One more blow against the fortune-holders, the possessors of the vile metal, with an injunction to throw it into the furnace of this world if they would avoid being hurled into that of the next, and then a supreme effort to the effect that when they were weighed in the balance, the weight of their gold would sink them to perdition. The sermon was over, and the preacher had suddenly disappeared. Captain Antifa, Zambuco, and Sook had attended to interview him as he came out of church. Would they have to wait until the morning? Would they had passed the night in the tortures of curiosity? No, they would rush to the central porch. Jewel in the notary and Tregomain followed them, but their endeavor was in vain. Evidently, Mr. Turkumel, to avoid innovation, had escaped by a side door. To 17 North Bridge Street, said Captain Antifa. But Uncle, before he goes to bed, we must see him, said the banker. But Mr. Zambuco, no remarks, if you please. There is only one thing. What is that? asked Antifa angrily. What he has been preaching about. And what does that have to do with us? A good deal. You are making fun of us. I am quite serious, and I said that nothing could be more unfortunate for you. For me? Yes, listen. And in a few words, Jewel had explained what had been the purport of the sermon, that all the millions in the world ought to be thrown into the sea. The banker was a guest, and so was Sook, although he pretended not to understand. As for Tregomain, he indulged in a huge grimace of disappointment. Antifa alone remained unshaken, and a tone of bitter irony, he remarked. Fool! The only people who preach like that are those who have not a half penny to lose. We've only got to talk about the millions that are coming, and you will see if this Turkumel will throw them into the sea. Evidently, this reply betrayed a profound knowledge of human nature. But it was decided to give up the idea of visiting this reverend gentleman that evening, and the six travelers returned to Gibbs Royal Hotel. End of Chapter 27 Chapter 28 of Captain Antifa by Jules Verne This Symbolvox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Joe De Noia, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 28 The house in which Mr. Turkumel lodged was in the neighborhood of Cannongate, the windows looking out onto the valley in which runs the railway. Chapter 29 It was a gloomy, uncomfortable house. Up one of those sordid, incineratory alleys known as closes, running out of this historic thoroughfare, which, under different names, extends from the Palace of Holy Root to the Castle of Edinburgh. One of the four Scottish fortresses, which by the Articles of the Treaty of Union have always to be kept in repair. It was at the door of this house that on the morning of the 26th of June, Captain Antifa and the banker Zambuco, accompanied by Jules, arrived, just as eight o'clock was striking for the neighboring church. Ben Omar had not been asked to join them, his presence being useless at this first interview. And consequently, much to his disgust, Saouk was also absent. If the minister divulged the secret of the latitude, he would not be there to hear it, and it would therefore be impossible for him to outstrip Antifa in the search for island number three. As to the bargemen, he remained at the hotel, and, while waiting the return of the visitors, amused himself by contemplating the marbles of Princess Street and the pretentious elegancies of the Scott Monument. As far as Jules was concerned, it had not been possible to dispense with him, as his uncle required his services as interpreter. It could be imagined how eager they were to find where island number three was situated. Saouk, it may be observed, was furious when he found himself left behind, and as usual, vented his anger on Ben Omar. Yes, it is your fault, he shouted, knocking over some of the furniture, and I have a great mind to pay you out with a good thrashing. Excellency, I did all I could. No, you did not do all you could. You should have forced yourself on this rascally sailor, and told him that your presence was necessary, and that you would be there. You would then have found out and told me about this new island, and I might have perhaps got there before the others. My plans were spoiled at Muscat, they were spoiled at Mayumba. Do you think they're going to fail again because you remain stuck there on your feet, like an old ibis stuffed with straw? I beg, and I swear that if I fail, it is your skin that will pay for it. The scene continued in this way, and became so violent that the bargemen heard the noise. He went to the door of the room, and was lucky for Zouk that he was speaking in Egyptian. If he had a sail Ben Omar in French, Tregrime would have discovered his abominable schemes, and learned who the so-called Nazim really was, and traded that personage as he deserved. But although this was not revealed to him, he was thoroughly surprised at the violence with which Ben Omar was treated by his clerk, and saw that the young captain's suspicions were fully justified. Entering the minister's house, Captain Antefer, Zambuco, and Joule began to ascend a wooden staircase with the aid of the greasy rope hanging on the wall. Never would the bargemen, thin as he might have become, have been able to make his way up these dark, narrow stairs. The visitors reached the landing on the third floor, the last on this side of the house. In front of them was a small door and a recess, of which was the name Turkamel. Antefer uttered a vigorous groan of satisfaction, and knocked. The reply was a long time coming. Was not the minister at home? Why not? A man to whom you are bringing a million or so. A second knock, rather louder than the first. This time there was a slight noise in the interior of the room. There was not the door that opened, but a little hole just above the name. Through this hole appeared ahead. That of the minister. What do you want, asked the minister, in a tone that showed he was not over pleased of being disturbed. We wish to speak to you for a few minutes, said Joule. What about? A matter of important business. I have no business, important or otherwise. Ah! exclaimed Antefer. I know it is so much delay. Is he going to let us in? But as soon as the minister heard him speak in French, he answered as if it were his native tongue. Are you a Frenchman then? Frenchman replied, Joule. And imagining that I might facilitate their introduction into the minister's room, he added, Frenchman, who heard your sermon yesterday. I don't think of becoming converts to my teaching, asked the minister. Perhaps. On the contrary, said Antefer, he must be converted to ours unless he chooses to give up his share. The door was opened and the three visitors found themselves in the minister's presence. It was one room, lighted at the end by the window looking out over the ravine. In one corner was an iron bedstead with a straw mattress and a counterpane. In another corner was a table with a few toilet utensils. There was a bench for a seat. There was a cupboard in which the minister kept his clothes. On a shelf were a few books and writing materials. There were no curtains and the walls were bare. There was a table with a reading lamp, the shade of which was very low. There was a bedroom and a study in which there was nothing that was not strictly necessary. The minister, who was all in black except his collar and tie, did not ask his visitors to sit down and he had about one seat to offer them. In truth, if ever millions would be welcome anywhere, it ought to be in this cell, the whole contents of which are not worth 30 shillings. Captain Antefer and Zambuco looked at one another. How were they to open fire? As soon as their colegatee began to speak French, Jules' intervention was unnecessary and it became merely a spectator. He preferred to be so and it was not without a certain feeling of curiosity that he awaited the encounter. Who would be the conqueror?  After what he knew of this revolutionary minister, of his opinions regarding this world's goods, he judged it advisable to proceed with caution, to feel his way, to break the news gently, so as to persuade the minister to hand over the letter of Kamalik Pasha, which ought to be in his possession, in which there could be no doubt contained the figures of the new and, let us hope, the last latitude. But Antefer had no chance of beginning. While his three visitors performing a group in the back of the room, the minister placed himself in front of them in the attitude of a preacher. Persuaded that these men had come of their own free will to accept his teaching, his only thought was to enlarge on his principles with as much eloquence as he could muster. My brethren, he said, clasping his hands at an outburst of gratitude. I thank the author of all things for not having refused me that gift of persuasion, which has enabled me to instill in your hearts that contempt of wealth. Imagine the faces of the two legates at this exhortium. By destroying the wealth you possess, continued the minister, which we do not yet possess, Antefer could not help saying. You will give an admirable example, which will be followed by all those whose minds are capable of rising above the materialities of life. Antefer, by a sudden movement of his jaw, jerked the pebble from one side of his mouth to the other. While Zambuca whispered, are you not going to explain the object of our visit? An affirmative sign was Antefer's reply, while he muttered to himself, I must not let him give us his yesterday sermon over again. The minister, opening his arms as if to receive repentant sinners, said in a full voice of unction. Your names, my brethren, in order that… Our names, Mr. Turkamel, Interrupted Captain Antefer, are these. I am Pierre Cervan Molo Antefer, Retired Coasting Captain. This is Jules Antefer, my nephew, Master Mariner. This is Mr. Zambuca, Banker of Tunis. The clergymen stepped to the table in order to write down these names. In doubtless, you bring me your worldly wealth, thousands perhaps? Well, Mr. Turkamel, we have come about millions, and when you have got your share, you can destroy it as you please. But as far as we are concerned, that is another matter. Antefer was off on the wrong tack. Jules and Zambuca saw this at once by the change which took place in the minister's face.  What, then, is all this about, gentlemen? he asked, stepping back. What is it all about? asked Antefer. Come, Jules, unroll the thing, for I should not be able to measure my words. And Jules unrolled the thing without reticence. He related all he knew about Kamalik Pasha, the services rendered by his great Uncle Thomas Antefer. The obligations contracted with the bankers Zambuca. The visit to St. Malo of Ben-Almar, notary of Alexandria. The voyage to the Gulf of Oman, where lay island number one, followed by the voyage to Mayumbaveti, where lay island number two, the discovery of the second document, which set the two Kologates to a third legatee, who was no other than a reverend gentleman to whom he was speaking. While Jules spoke, the clergyman listened, without making a movement, without permitting his eyes to brighten or his muscles to twitch. A statue of marble or bronze could not have been more emotionless. And when the young captain finished his story and asked him if he ever had any business with Kamalik Pasha, the minister simply replied, no. But your father? Maybe. Maybe is not an answer, observed Jules, calming his uncle, who was turning about as if he had been stung by a tarantula. It is the only answer I think it necessary to give, replied the minister, dryly. Insist, Mr. Jules. Insist, said the banker. In every possible way, Mr. Zambuca replied Jules, and addressing the minister, who evidently intended to maintain extreme reserve. May I ask you one question? He said. Only one? Yes, and I can answer it or not, as I please. Is it within your knowledge that your father was ever in Egypt? No. But if it was not Egypt, it might be Syria, or to be more precise, Aleppo. That would not be forgotten that it was in this town that Kamalik Pasha had resided for some years before he returned to Cairo. After a moment of hesitation, Mr. Turcomel admitted that his father had lived in Aleppo, where he had met Kamalik Pasha. There, no doubt, he had been of service to the Pasha, as had Thomas Antifur in Zambuca. I will now ask you, continued Jules, if your father received a letter from Kamalik Pasha. Yes. A letter in which there was some mention of the position of an island in which treasure was buried. Yes. And did not this letter contain the latitude of this island? Yes. And did it not say that one day a certain Antifur and a certain Zambuca would come and see you on this subject? Yes. Every yes felt like a hammer stroke, louder and louder. Well, continued Jules, Captain Antifur and the banker Zambuca are in your presence, and if you will show them the poshest letter, they will have only to make a note of its contents and be off to fulfill the intentions of the testator, of which you and they are the three legates. As Jules spoke, Captain Antifur struggled in vain to keep still. The minister paused before he replied. And when you have reached the place where the treasure is, what are your intentions? To unearth it, of course, said Antifur. And when you have unearthed it, to divide it into three shares. And what are you going to do with your shares? Whatever we please. That is it, gentlemen, replied the minister, while his eyes glowed like fire. You intend to take advantage of these riches to satisfy your instincts, your appetites, your passions. That is to say, to contribute towards the increase of the inequities of the world. Allow me, Interim Zambuca. No, I will not allow you. And I ask you this simple question. If this treasure falls into your hands, will you undertake to destroy it? Each will do with his legacy as he judges best, said the banker evasively. Antifur exploded. That is not it. At all, he shouted. Do you know what this treasure is worth? It makes no difference. It is worth four million pounds. And there's a third of that for you. The minister shrugged his shoulders. Are you aware that you are not allowed to refuse us the information the test that it requires you to give? Really? Do you know that you have no more right to leave four millions unproductive than to steal them? That is not my opinion. Do you know that if you persist in your refusal, yelled Captain Antifur in a fury, we should not hesitate to bring you to justice to denounce you as a fraudulent legatee, as a criminal. As a criminal, repeated the minister angrily, but cool. Really, gentlemen, your audacity equals your absurdity. Do you imagine that I shall agree to spreading four millions over the earth to become the cause of four million sins, the more? To stultify all my teachings and give my congregation the chance of flinging four millions in my face? Joel could not help admiring the preacher, while his uncle, wild with anger, was ready to spring on him. Yes or no, hissed Antifur, clenching his fists and stepping forward. Yes or no, will you give us the posh's letter? No. Antifur phoned to the mouth. No? No. Ah, I will make you give it to us. Joel interposed, his uncle pushed him aside. Antifur would have strangled the minister, searched the rooms, ransacked the cupboard, and it would not take him long to do so. But he was stopped dead by this simple and peremptory reply. It is useless for you to search for the letter. And why, asked Inboko, because I have not got it. What have you done with it? I have burnt it. He has put it to the fire, gasp Antifur, the wretch, a letter containing the secret of four millions, a secret never to be discovered now. And it was only too true. Doubtless for fear of being tempted to make use of it, a use contrary to all his principles, the Reverend gentlemen had burnt the letter several years before. And now you can go, said he, showing his visitors the door. Antifur was overwhelmed at the blow, the document destroyed, the finding of the island impossible.  Jewel had to help the two legates out onto the stairs, then into the road, and then, sorrowfully, they went back to the hotel. End of chapter 28. Chapter 29 of Captain Antifur by Jewels Farn This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Recording by Joe DeNoya, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 29 Such emotions, disasters, anxieties, troubles, shocks, and alternations of hope and despair were too much for Captain Antifur. Even the constitution of a coasting captain has its limits. And as soon as Jewels' much-harassed uncle reached the hotel, he took to his bed. He was attacked by fever, a violent fever, with delirium, the consequences of which might be serious. What deceptive illusions haunted him? This campaign interrupted, just at the moment when it promised to end successfully. The uselessness of further search, this enormous treasure in which they would never know the position, this third island lost in some unknown sea, the only document that can give its exact position destroyed, burned by this abominable minister. This latitude, which not even torture would make him disclose, and which he had voluntarily and criminally forgotten. Yes, it was to be feared that Antifur's much-troubled mind would be unable to resist this last blow. And the doctor called in, in haste, gave it as his opinion that there was every likelihood of the patient going mad. Every care was taken of him. His friend, Tregor, made in his nephew, Jewel, would not leave him for a moment, and, if he recovered, would be entitled to his warmest gratitude. As soon as he returned to the hotel, Jewel had informed Ben Omar, and threw him so he could learn all about Mr. Turkumel's refusal. The fury of the false Nazim could be imagined, but this time there was no outward manifestation of his anger. He kept it to himself, hoping that the secret which Antifur could not discover might be discovered by himself, and utilized for his sole advantage. This was the object in which he concentrated his attention, and during that day, in the subsequent days, he was not seen at the hotel. When the bargeman heard what had happened, he remarked, I think the matter is buried at last. I think so, too, said Jewel. It seems impossible to get anything out of this obstinate fanatic. It is rather funny, though, to take millions to a minister and find him refuse them. Take millions, exclaimed the young captain, shaking his head. You do not believe in them, Jewel? You may be wrong. How you have changed. Since the finding of those diamonds, I did not say that the millions are on the Third Island, but they may be there. Unfortunately, if this clergyman will not listen to anything, we shall never know. Well, no, Mr. Trigemane, and in spite of the two diamonds at Mayumba, nothing will prevent my thinking that the Pasha has a huge hoax in store for us. In that case, your poor uncle will suffer. What we have to do now is to get him well. Let us hope his head will stand it. When we have set him on his feet again, and he is strong enough to travel, he will, I think, agree to return to France, and resume his former quiet life. Ah, said Jewel, would we were only in the house in the Rue des Hôtseles.  By the way, did you think of writing to her? I wrote this morning, and said I thought we might now talk of coming home. A few days elapsed. The patient had become no worse. The fever had decreased, but the doctor was uneasy as to the mental state of his patient. Antipher, though his head was weak, was able to recognize Trigemane and Jewel, and his future brother-in-law. Brother-in-law? Between ourselves, if any lady was in danger of remaining single, was it not Talisman Sambuco, now on the confines of 50, and waiting, not without impatience, for the appearance of a promised husband? No treasure, no husband, for one was the compliment of the other. From all which, it resulted that neither the bargeman nor Jewel could leave the hotel. Antipher was always asking for them. Day and night he kept them in his room, listening to his complaints, his recriminations, and, above all, his menaces against the horrible minister. He spoke of nothing else than going to law with him. The judges would know how to make him speak. He could not keep silent when it meant keeping four millions out of circulation. He would be punished most severely, most terribly, might even be hanged, etc., etc. From morning to night Antipher continued in this tone. Trigemane and Jewel took it in turns to be with him, except when some violent crisis required them both to be present. The patient would have got up, rushed out of his room, run away to the minister, and blown out his brains, if the bargeman's strong hand had not kept him down. Although he greatly desired to visit the superb city of Edinburgh, Trigemane had to give up the idea. Later on, when his friend was on the road to recovery, he would make up for it. He would visit the Palace of Holy Root, the ancient residence of the Scottish Kings. He would stroll along the cannon gate to the castle, firmly planted on its rock, and see the little room in which the child came into the world who was to become James VI of Scotland and James I of England. He would make the ascent of Arthur's seat and enjoy the view from its summit. Soon, a rumor arose calculated to greatly increase Mr. Trigemane's already considerable popularity. It was reputed that the celebrated preacher had, in conformity with his expressed opinions, just refused a very large legacy. Perhaps the minister had himself started the rumor, which was so much to his advantage. At any rate, there was an immense crowd to hear his next sermon. This time, for a very good reason, kept an antefer in his companions were not present. But behind one of the columns in the nave, there might have been recognised a foreigner whom nobody knew, of from thirty to thirty-five years of age, with black hair and beard, hard featured, and of any but pre-possessing appearance. Did he understand a language in which the minister spoke? We cannot say that he did. Standing hidden in his shade, he watched the preacher narrowly. His gleaming eyes never lost sight of him for a moment. The man remained in his attitude into the close of the sermon, and, when the last words were spoken, made his way through the crowd toward the minister. Did he intend to follow him from the church to his house in the canning gate? It would seem like it, from the vigor with which he used his elbows on the steps of the porch. That evening, Mr. Turquemel did not return alone. A small crowd accompanied him. The mysterious man was one of them, but did not join in their expressions of enthusiasm. On reaching his house, the popular orator ascended some of the outer steps and addressed the crowd, and then retired, without noticing that an intruder was at his heels. The crowd slowly dispersed. When the minister mounted the narrow staircase leading to the third floor, the unknown followed him as stealthily as a cat. The minister reached the landing, entered his room, and shut the door. The other stopped on the landing, cowered down in the dark corner, and waited. And then what happened? Next morning, the people in the house were surprised at not seeing the minister go out early as usual. They did not see him all the morning. Several visitors called and knocked at the door in vain. This appeared so suspicious that in the afternoon, one of the lodgers gave information to the police. The police came to the house, mounted the staircase, knocked at the door, and as they received no reply, broke it in, with that push from the shoulder peculiar to the officers of the force. What a spectacle! Someone had evidently picked the lock of the door, entered the room, and ransacked it from top to bottom. The cupboard was open and empty to the few clothes it contained, which had been thrown on the ground. The table was upset. The lamp lay in a corner. Books and papers were scattered all over the floor, and near the bed, half-stripped, pinion and gagged, was Mr. Turkumel. The police quickly set him free. He was only just breathing. He had quite lost consciousness. Since when? He alone could say if he recovered. He was rubbed energetically. There was no need to take his clothes off, for he was almost naked. His shirt was torn from his back, his chest and shoulders were bare. The policeman who began to rub him could not restrain an exclamation of surprise. On Mr. Turkumel's left shoulder, some figures and a letter had been tattooed. The tattoo marks were legible enough, brown in color, on the minister's white skin. And this was the inscription, 77 degrees, 19 minutes north. As maybe supposed, this was the much sought for latitude. The minister's father, to prevent it being lost, had evidently had a tattooed on his son's shoulder when he was young, as if he had inscribed it in a notebook. A notebook might be lost, but not a shoulder. Thus it was that, although he had really burned a letter of Kamalik Pasha addressed to his father, the minister possessed this inscription so strangely placed. An inscription he had never had the curiosity to read with the aid of a looking glass. But undoubtedly, the rascal had entered the room while the minister was asleep, had read it. The minister had found him ransacking his cupboard and looking over his papers. In vain had he struggled. After binding him and gagging him, the scoundrel had fled, leaving him half suffocated. Such were the details given by Mr. Turkumel. As soon as a doctor, summoned in haste, had restored him to consciousness. He related all that had passed. In his opinion, the sole object of the assault was to rest from him the secret of the island of the millions he refused to disclose. The scoundrel then had found it out while struggling with him. And with regard to this, he spoke of the visit he had received from the two Frenchmen and Amaltis, come to Edinburgh to interrogate him regarding the legacy of Kamalik Pasha. Here was a clue for the police, who began their inquiries immediately. Two hours afterwards, they discovered that the foreigners in question were at Gibbs Royal Hotel. And it was fortunate for Captain Antefer, Zambuco, Tregomain, Jules and Ben-Omar, that they could prove an incontestable alibi. Antefer had not left his bed. Jules and the bargemen had not left his room. Zambuco and the notary had not been away from the hotel. And none of them answered to the description given by the minister. But there was Saouk. Saouk was the man. He it was who had gone to get the secret from Mr. Turkumel. And now, thanks to the figures he had found on that gentleman's back, he was master of the situation. He knew the longitude mentioned in the document found on the island in Mayuma Bay, and thus possessed the necessary elements for determining the position of the New Island. Unfortunate Antefer. It needed but this last blow to drive him mad. In fact, after the description given in the newspapers, Captain Antefer, Zambuco, Tregomain and Jules had no doubt but that it was Nazim, this clerk of Ben-Omar, with whom Mr. Turkumel had had to do. And when they learned that he had disappeared, they took it for granted that they had seen the figures that had been tattooed, and that he had started for the New Island to take possession of the treasure. The least astonished of the party was Jules, whose suspicions with regard to Nazim we know, and next to him, Tregomain, to whom the young captain had communicated his suspicions. The rage of Antefer and Zambuco was extreme, and it found a victim in the person of Ben-Omar. We need scarcely say that Ben-Omar was more certain than anybody of the guild of Sok. And how could it be otherwise, knowing as he did his intentions, and that he was a sort of man who would recoil at nothing, not even at crime? What a scene it was to which the notary had to submit. Jules fetched him to the sick room. Ill as he might have been, Antefer was not the man to remain ill under such circumstances. If, as the doctor said, he was suffering from bilious fever, here was a splendid opportunity for him to relieve himself of his bile and bring about his own recovery. We really cannot describe the way in which the unfortunate notary was treated. He was told, to begin with, that the assault on the minister and the robbery, yes, you miserable Omar, the robbery, was the work of Nazim. What, is that the way you choose the clerks in your office? Is this the sort of man that you bring to assist you as an executor? A nice sort of rascal, scoundrel, villain to thrust upon us. And now this wretch, this unscrupulous wretch, had fled with the position of island number three, and he would get hold of Kamalik Pasha's millions, and would be impossible to lay hands on him. Ah, Sok. Sok. The name escaped the overwhelmed notary. All Jules suspicions were confirmed. Nazim was not Nazim. He was Sok, the son of Marad, disinherited by Kamalik for the benefit of the legates. What, exclaimed Jule? It was Sok? Ben Omar would have recalled the name if he could. His face, his terror, his dejection showed only too clearly that Jule was not mistaken. Sok, roared Antifa, jumping out of bed with a bow. And with a tremendous kick, he laid the notary flat on his back. This kick, with the broad side of abuse that followed it, was a real relief to Captain Antifa. And when Ben Omar, with his shoulders up and his stomach in, taught it out of the room, he felt considerably better. One thing more completed the cure, and that was the news that appeared in one of the newspapers a day or two afterwards. We know of what reporters and interviewers are capable, of everything, it must be admitted. At this period they had begun to intervene in public and private affairs with a vigour and audacity that had made them a new power in the world. One of them had been clever enough to obtain an interview with regard to the tattoo marks with which Mr. Turkumel's father had illustrated his son's left shoulder. He made a drawing of it, and this drawing appeared next day in a journal, the circulation of which, on that occasion, was so phenomenal that in a short time the whole world knew of the famous latitude. The public were so much of the wiser, for before they could solve the treasure problem, as it was called, they required the other element of the position, namely, the longitude. But Antifa had this longitude, and so had Saouk for that matter. And when Joel brought him the newspaper in question, and he saw the drawing, he jumped out of bed, he put on his clothes, he was cured as never a patient had been cured before. Joel, have you bought another atlas? Yes, uncle. The longitude of the third island is 15 degrees 11 minutes east, is it not? Yes, uncle. The latitude tattooed on the minister's shoulder is 17 degrees 19 minutes north, is it not? Yes, uncle. Well, see where island number three ought to be. Joel took the atlas, opened up the map of the Arctic regions, applied the compasses, and remarked, Spitsenbergen, the southern end of the large island. Spitsenbergen? What, was it in this northern region that Kamalik had chosen an island for his millions? Was this the last island? Let us go, said Antifa, this very day, if we could find a ship ready. Uncle, exclaimed Joel, we must not let this miserable Sue get there before us. You are right, my friend, said the bargeman. Let us go, repeated Antifa imperiously, and he added, go and tell that fool of a notary, for Kamalik Pasha wanted him to be present at the discovery of the treasure. They had to bow to his will, supported as it was by the will of Zambuco. Well, said Joel, at any rate, it is lucky that this Joker of Pasha did not send us to the antipodes. End of Chapter 29, Chapter 30 of Captain Antifa by Jules Verne. This liberal box recording is in the public domain. Recording by Joe De Noia, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 30. Captain Antifa and his four companions, including Ben Omar, had to go first to Bergen on one of the chief ports of Norway. No sooner resolved upon than done. Nazim, otherwise Saouk, had a start of four or five days, and not an hour was to be lost. The noonday ball had not fallen at Edinburgh Observatory, when the tram deposited our five friends at Leif, where they hoped to find a steamer on the point of sailing from Bergen. The distance from Edinburgh to this port is only about 400 miles. From there it would be easy to reach Hammerfest, the northernmost Norwegian port by means of the steamer, which, in the summer season, takes tourists to the North Cape. From Bergen to Hammerfest is about 800 miles, and is about 600 miles from Hammerfest to the south end of Spitsenburg. For this last stage, a vessel would have to be chartered fit for the voyage, but at this period of the year, there is no bad weather in that part of the Arctic Ocean. They remain the question of money. This third of the voyage would evidently be very costly, particularly that part of it, north of Hammerfest. Tramain's funds had begun to run low after so much expenditure since leaving St. Malo. Fortunately, the banker's signature was as good as gold. There are people so favored by fortune that they can dip their hands into any money chest in Europe. Zimbucho was one of these. He placed his credit at the disposal of his colegatee. The brothers-in-law could adjust their accounts afterward. The treasure, and in default to the treasure, the diamond of the one, would yield more than enough to pay with the other-headed vest. Before leaving Edinburgh, the banker had visited the Bank of Scotland, where he was cordially received. Thus laden, our travelers can go to the end of the world, and who knows if they would not have to go there or things went on as they had been doing. At Leith, situated a mile and a half from Edinburgh, on the Firth of Forth, there are always a number of vessels. If there was one outward bound for the coast of Norway, there was one. This time, fortune seemed to favor Antefer. Though the said ship was not to start that day, she was due out next day. She was a trading steamer, the Viking. Here was a delay of 36 hours for Jules' uncle to fret about. He would not even allow Jules and Tramain to take a stroll through Edinburgh. Much to the disgust of the bargemen, notwithstanding the interest he had begun to take in the millions of the Pasha. On the 7th of July, the Viking left the docks, and two days afterwards, sighted the Heights of Norway, arriving at Bergen about three in the afternoon. We need scarcely say that before leaving Edinburgh, Jules had bought a sextant, a chronometer, and a nautical almanac to replace those lost in the Port Allegra. If they could have chartered a vessel at Leith, direct for Spitsenbergen, they would have saved time, but the opportunity did not present itself. Antefer's impatience, however, was not tried over much. The steamer for the North Cape was expected the next day, but the few hours seemed as long to him as it did to Sambuka. Neither of them would hear of leaving the hotel. Besides, it rained, for it seemed that it generally rains at Bergen, which occupies a sort of basin surrounded by mountains. This did not prevent the bargemen and Jules from taking a run through the town. Captain Antefer, quite recovered from his fever, did not insist on their remaining with him. But all that was worth seeing, they had seen, when in the early morning the steamer came into harbour. At ten o'clock she was off with her cargo of tourists, anxious to see the midnight sun on the horizon of the North Cape. This was a phenomenon of supreme indifference to Captain Antefer and Sambuka, and especially so to Ben Omar, who was in his usual state of collapse in his bunk. What most annoyed Antefer was the steamer's continual stoppages to satisfy the curiosity of the tourists. The thought that Saouk was several days in front of him kept him in a state of irritation that was anything but agreeable to his travelling companions. The remonstrances of Trigamene and Jules were of no avail, and the captain of the steamer threatened to put him ashore if he persisted in making himself a nuisance to those on board. Whether he liked it or not, Antefer had to put in a dronheim, the old city of Saint Olaf, which is not as large as Bergen, but more interesting. Would need not be surprised that Antefer and Sambuka were refusing to go ashore. Trigamene and Jules, however, took advantage of the delay to explore the town. If the eyes of the tourists were to a certain extent satisfied, their feet were not. The street might as well be paved with broken bottles, so pointed by the stones. Cobblers ought to make a fortune in this country, said the bargemen, judiciously trying to vain to save his souls from damage. The only acceptable pavement that two friends could find was under the arches of the cathedral, where the kings, after being crowned at Stockholm as kings of Sweden, come to be crowned as kings of Norway. After conscientiously visiting the cathedral and the vast cemetery that surrounds it, after following the banks of the wide Nid, whose waters increased or decreased by the flow or ebb, flowed through the town between long stockades of wood that serve as keys. After sampling the odors of the fish market, and visiting the vegetable market, almost entirely supplied from England, after venturing across the Nid to the suburb, round and old citadel, Trigamene and Jules returned on board quite tired out. A letter addressed to Enigate, containing a pleasant postscript in the heavy handwriting of the bargemen, was that evening put in the post for Saint Molo. Next morning, at daybreak, the steamer left, with a few new passengers, and resumed her voyage to high latitudes. There were more stoppages, more delays, much to the disgust of Antefer. In crossing the Arctic Circle, represented by a thread stretched across the deck, he refused to jump over it, though Trigamene could humanely comply with the tradition. At last, in advancing northward, the steamer avoided the famous Maelstrom, whose roaring waters turned into a gigantic whirlpool. Then the Loughedon Islands, so much frequented by the Norwegian fishermen, appeared to the west, and on the seventeenth, anchor was dropped in the port of Tromsø. To say that during the voyage it had rained 16 hours out of the 24 would be only just, according to the figures. But the verb, too rain, is quite insufficient to give an idea of such deluges. Anyhow, these cataracts were not displeasing to our travelers. They showed that the temperature was relatively high, and what was to be feared by men bound for the seventeenth parallel was the prevalence of the Arctic cold, which would have rendered very difficult, and even impossible, the approaches to Spitsenburgen. This period of the year, July, is late for navigation in these parts. The sea might suddenly close in at a change of wind, and if Antifa were detained at Hammerfest until the early ice had drifted south, would it not be dangerous for him to venture further north in a fishing boat? But thought of this made Jule anxious. And if the sea does close in, asked Trigamane, my uncle will have to winter at the North Cape and wait for next season. Well, my boy, we must not abandon the millions. The old mariner of the Rants no longer growled. And why not? He can not get those diamonds found in Mayuma Bay out of his head, but having been roasted under the sun of Luongo, was he to be frozen among the glaciers of Spitsenburgen? Can't found that posh up. What possessed him to bury his treasure in such extraordinary places? The steamer stayed but a few hours at Tromsow, but the passengers could for the first time make acquaintance with the natives of Lapland. And on the morning of the 21st of July, she entered the now a fjord of Hammerfest. There, Antipher and his party landed. Next day she would take the tourists on to the North Cape. Little did Antipher care for the North Cape. There was no North Cape worth comparing as far as was concerned with island number three, somewhere in Spitsenburgen. But as there happened to be a North Pole hotel at Hammerfest, it was to the North Pole that they went. As soon as they had engaged their rooms, they went out in their anxiety not to lose a moment to endeavor to charter a boat to take them to Spitsenburgen. They walked towards the harbor, which is fed by the limpid waters of a lovely river bordered with stockades, on which were built houses and warehouses. The hole pervaded by the odors from the neighboring fish drying establishments. Hammerfest is above all things the town of fish and every fishing product. The dogs eat it, the cattle eat it, the shipping goats eat it, and the hundreds of boats which work in these wonderful regions bring more fish than can be eaten. A curious town at Hammerfest, rainy as it might be, lighted by the long summer days, darkened by the long winter nights, and often illuminated by sheaves of the aurora borealis of inexpressible magnificence. At the entrance of the harbor, Captain Antipher and his companions stopped at the foot of a granite column with a bronze capitol bearing the arms of Norway and surrounded by a terrestrial globe. The column was erected by Oscar I, and is commemorative of the measurement of the meridian between Hammerfest and the mouths of the Danube. From this point, a traveller has directed their steps toward the stockades, at the foot of which were more of the vessels of all rigs and every tonnage employed in the major and minor fisheries of the polar sea. But you may ask, how were they to make themselves understood? Did any of the party understand Norwegian? No, but Joel understood English, and with the aid of that cosmopolitan language, there was every chance of his making himself intelligible. In fact, before the day was over, they had on moderate terms chartered a fishing boat, the croon of about a hundred tons, commanded by Captain Olaf, and manned by a crew of eleven. This would take the passengers to Spitsenburgen, wait there for them during their search, load up with any merchandise they might find, and bring them back to Hammerfest. This was fortunate for Anifer, it seemed that everything was going in his favor. Joel inquired if a foreigner had been seen at Hammerfest a few days before, if anybody had embarked for Spitsenburgen, and received replies in the negative to both questions.  The rest of the day was spent in walking about the town, and for in St. Boko being persuaded to do so on this occasion, as they were so near their goal. When they retired to rest at eleven o'clock, it was still day, and the twilight did not end before the dawn appeared. At eight o'clock in the morning, the croon was off northward before a good southeast of the breeze. As there were some six hundred miles to traverse, she would be about five days on the voyage if the weather continued favorable. There's no fear of her having to meet with ice drifting southwards, nor were there fine Spitsenburgen surrounded by pack ice. The temperature remained at normal, and the prevailing winds rendered a sudden cold blast unlikely. The sky, dappled with clouds, which occasionally dissolved in rain, not snow, had nothing disquieting in its appearance. Now and then the cloud broke, and the sun's rays shot through the rifts. Joel had every reason to hope that the radiant disc would be visible when it became necessary to use the sexton for fixing the position of the Third Island. Evidently, their good fortune continued, and there was nothing to lead them to think that after bringing his legates to the uttermost part of Europe, Kimley Pasha would send them once more several thousand leagues away. The croon went splendidly, the wind never failing her. Captain Olaf averred that he had never made a better passage. At four o'clock in the morning of the 26th of July, Highland was reported to the northward, above a horizon quite clear of ice. This was Spitsenburgen, which Olaf knew well, from having frequently fished in these regions. Twenty years ago, Spitsenburgen was not often visited by tourists, but nowadays it is gradually being embraced in that round. The time is not far distant when return tickets will be issued for the Norwegian possession, as they are now for the North Cape, may eventually be for the pole of the same name. As far as was then known, Spitsenburgen was an archipelago extending to the 80th parallel. It is composed of three islands, Spitsenburgen, properly so called, the Southeast Island, and the Northeast Island. Does it belong to Europe or America? A question of purely scientific interest, which we need not stop to answer. One thing is certain, that it is chiefly Englishmen, Danes, and Russians, who send their ships there for the whale and seal fisheries. It mattered little to legates of Kemalik Pasha, to whom these islands belonged, once they had safely removed from them, the millions earned, but the courage and tenacity. Spitsenburgen, as the name indicates, is a land of pointed rocks, difficult to access. The islands were discovered by the Englishman Willoughby in 1553, and the name was given them by the Dutchman Barrens and Cornelius. Not only does the archipelago consist of three principal islands, but these are surrounded by numerous islands. After marking on the chart the longitude of 15 degrees, 11 minutes east, and a latitude of 77 degrees, 19 minutes north, George gave captain Olaf orders to make for the Southeast Island, but most subtly, for the archipelago. The croon scutted rapidly before a following wind, and the four or five miles which separated them from the islands were accomplished in less than an hour. The croon dropped anchor two cables off an island, which had a high abrupt promontory, rising from its end. It was then a quarter past 12. Antefer, Zambucco, Ben Omar, Tregomane, and Jewel embarked in the boat and rode toward the shore. An immense number of gulls, gullibots, and other polar birds flew off with deafening cries. I heard of seals rapidly shuffled off, not without protesting with mournful wailings against the intrusion. The treasure was evidently carefully guarded. Antefer leapt ashore and took possession. What curious good fortune after so many failures. He had not even to search amid the masses of rock. He had landed on the very spot where the Egyptian had buried his millions. The island was deserted, as need hardly be said. There was not a human creature on it, and there was not a ship in sight save the croon. Nothing but the immensity of the Arctic sea. Antefer and Zambucco could hardly restrain themselves, and even the fishy eyes of the notary lighted up. Tregomane, more excited than he had ever been before, his back rounded, his legs far apart, was hardly recognizable. And after all, why should he not be happy at his friend's happiness? And what added to their joy was that there was no mark of a footprint on the ground. Assuredly, no one had recently landed there. The ground, softened by the rains, would have retained any footprint. There was no doubt then with regard to Zahuk. Marad's terrible son had not preceded the legitimate owners of the treasure. Either he had been stopped on the way, or he had met with delays which would render his search useless if he arrived after Captain Antefer. When good fortune takes you by the hand, the best thing is to be led as she wishes you to be. Antefer was brought before a rock, rising like one of the landmarks set up by Arctic explorers. Here, here he exclaimed in a voice choked with emotion. They ran up. They looked. On the outer face of this rock appeared the monogram of Kamalik Pasha, the double K, so deeply in size that the rigors of the polar climate had not worn away its lines. All remained silent at first as if they had arrived before the tomb of some hero. And then they set to work. This time Pick and Matt rapidly made the chips fly at the foot of the rock. At every blow they expected the tools would ring on the middle hoops of a barrel, or stick into a stave. Suddenly Antefer's pickaxe graded to get something.   In the hole was a box, a metal box marked with the double K, a box just like those that had been found in the Gulf of Oman and in the Mayuma Bay. Again grown the bargeman lifting his arms on high. That was the word. Yes, again. And again it would undoubtedly be necessary to go in search of another island. Antefer in a furious passion seized his pickaxe and dealt the box such a violent blow that it flew into splinters. From an escaped the parchment, spotted, stained, dilapidated, the damage due to the infiltration of rain and snow. This time there was not even a diamond for Turkamel who had not been subject to expenses like his colegates. That was fortunate. A diamond for him? Why he would have reduced it to vapor. But to our parchment, to pick it up, to unfold it carefully, for it might easily have torn, was what Jewel did, for he alone retained his coldness. Antefer shaking his fist at the sky, Zemmucco bowing his head, Ben Omar collapsing. Tragomate all eyes and ears. All were as silent as the grave. The parchment consisted of one sheet of which the upper part had not suffered from the damp. On the sheet several lines were still legible. Jewel read them almost without interruption. This is how they ran. There are three men to whom I am under an obligation. Not to whom I wish to leave a token of my gratitude. If I have placed these documents on three different islands, it is that these three men, made acquainted with each other during their voyages, might be united in the undesirable bond of friendship. If they have had a certain amount of trouble and fatigue in arriving at the possession of this fortune, they have not experienced as much as I have in keeping it for them. These three men are the Frenchman Antefer, the Maltese Zemmucco, the Scotsman Turkamel. In their default, if death has removed them from this world, their natural heirs will enjoy the same right to my legacy. In the presence then of the notary, Ben Omar, whom I have appointed my executive, this box having been opened and notice having been taken to this document, which is the last, the Colegates can proceed to the fourth island, where the three casks containing the golden precious stones have been buried by my own hands. Notwithstanding the disappointment they felt at finding another voyage necessary, Antefer and the others could not help but sigh of relief. At least the fourth island was to be the last. But where was it? To find this island continued jewel. All that is necessary is to bring. Unfortunately, the lower part of the parchment had rotted away. The sentences were illegible. Most of the words had disappeared. The young captain tried in vain to decipher them. Island. Situated. Geometrical law.  But Joel could not go on. There were only a few doubtful words which he sought in vain to connect together. As to the figures of the latitude and longitude, there was not left a trace. Joel began again. Situated. Geometrical law. At last he made out another word. Pole. Pole, he exclaimed. What? Is it at the North Pole? Unless it is at the South Pole, muttered the bargeman in despair. Evidently here was the expected hoax. The Pole, now. The Pole. Have ever a human being set foot on the pole? Antefer jumped at his nephew, snatched from him the document, tried to read it, stumbled over the few words that were only barely legible. Nothing. Nothing to give him any indication of the whereabouts of the fourth island. He would have to give up all hopes of discovering it. And when he saw that the search was at an end, he was struck as if by lightning and fell rigid on the ground. End of chapter 30. Chapter 31 of Captain Antefer by Jules Verring. This liberal rock's recording is in the public domain. Recorded by Joe De Noia, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 31. On the 12th of August, the house on the Rue de Halt-Celeste at St. Molo was in a state of rejoicing. There was a wedding that morning, and the happy couple had left about ten o'clock for the Marie and the Church, amid a numerous gathering of friends and acquaintances. Jules had married neither a princess, nor a duchess, nor a baroness. Enogate had neither married a prince, nor a duke, nor a baron. For one to the millions, their uncle's wishes had not been realized, and we have every reason to think that they did not regret it. Chapter 32. Two other personages were radiant with joy. Nanon, who felt sure of her daughter's happiness, and Gilda's trigamane in a lovely new coat and trousers, and a silk hat and white gloves, who was acting as best man. Chapter 33. Quite so, but how about Captain Antefer? An hour after the discovery of the document on island number three, which ended in such disappointment and despair, the passengers of the crew had returned on board, Antefer being carried in the arms of the sailors, who had been called up to help. So shattered had he been by the blow, that he spoke not a word. The return voyage was accomplished as quickly as possible by sea and land. The crew took their passengers to Hammerfest, the steamer from the North Cape landed them at Bergen. The railway from Drothheim to Christiania, not then being open, they had to travel by road to the Norwegian capital. A steamer took them to Copenhagen, and thence the railways of Denmark, Germany, Holland, Belgium, and France brought them to Paris, and so home to St. Malo. At Paris, Antefer and Zambucco beat each other farewell. Both were dissatisfied. Talisman Zambucco would probably remain single for the rest of her life. It was written above that it was not Antefer who was to save her from this undesirable opposition, against which she had struggled for so many years. It would scarcely be said that all the monies advanced to Antefer for the expenses of the voyage were repaid to Zambucco, and they amounted to a good round sum. But the sale of the diamond realized enough for there to be balanced left, and Antefer had no cause of regret on this head. Ben Omar paid his own expenses and departed for Alexandria by the shortest way, declaring that he would never again venture on a treasure hunt. The next morning Antefer and Tregomane and Jewel returned to St. Malo, and what a welcome they had. Nanon and Enogate had nothing but affectionate consolations for their brother, uncle, cousin, and friend. And then it was that Captain Antefer, fronting impossible to endow his niece and nephew with millions, gave his consent to their marriage. But he took no part in it, and would not even leave his room. In vain did Tregomane try to persuade him to be present at the wedding. You really ought to be there. Indeed. The young people do not like your being away. I beg, and I beg that you will leave me in peace. And so the young people were married. They stayed at home only to leave it occasionally to visit the best of men, their friend Tregomane. There they often talked about Antefer and their sorrow at seeing him so irritated and cast down. He never went out. He saw nobody. No more walks for him on the ramparts, no more saunters along the keys, pipe in mouth. It was said that he was ashamed to show himself after such a failure, and there was a good deal of truth in this. I am afraid his health will give way, said Enogate, the tears coming into her eyes when she spoke of her uncle. And so am I, said Nanon, and every day I pray that heaven may grant that my brother may recover from his disappointment. That horrid pasha exclaimed Jewel. What did he want to throw his millions at us for? Particularly millions we could not find, said Tregomane. But yet, they are somewhere, if only we could have made out the document to the end. One day the bargeman said to Jewel, Do you know what I think, my boy? What do you think? That your uncle would have been less upset if he had learned where the treasure was, even if he could not have put his hands on it. Perhaps you are right, Tregomane. What makes him angry is that he had in his hand the document indicating the position of island number four, and yet was unable to decipher the last lines. There would have been no mistake about it this time, replied Tregomane. The document was explicit on that point. Uncle has got it. He is it always under his eyes. He spends his time in reading it over and over again. A waste of time, my boy, a waste of time. We shall never find his excellence, these millions, never. A day or so after a wedding, they learned the news of what had happened to that rascal, Sohu. The reason that he had not got to Spinsenburg before the others was that he had been arrested at Glasgow. The day of his attack on Turkomell, he had started for Glasgow, where he hoped to find a vessel sailing for Drothime or Bergen. Instead of starting from the east coast of Scotland, as the Antifa had done, he would go from the west. The distance was much the same, and he hoped to reach the island before the legates. Unfortunately for him, he had to wait at Glasgow for a week before his ship started. And fortunately for human justice, he was recognized just as he was going on board. He was immediately arrested, and being sent to prison was saved from a useless voyage to Spinsenburg. The days rolled on. Jewel and Enigate would have nothing to mar their happiness, had it not been for the truly megaloconic state of their uncle. On the other hand, the young captain could not look forward without sorrow to the time when he would have to leave his wife and his friends. Lebele's three master was nearly finished building, and of her, he was to be chief officer. It was a splendid position for a man of his age. In six months, he would have to be at sea on a voyage to India. Jewel often talked about these things with Enigate, who was always sad at the thought of being separated from her husband. But in seaport towns, are not families accustomed to these separations? Enigate, not wishing to talk about herself, preferred to look at the matter as affecting only Captain Antifa. Would it not be cause of regret to his nephew to have to leave him in such a state, particularly as it was doubtful if he would find him alive when he came back? Jewel returned continually to the incomplete document, to the almost illegible lines in the old parchment. Yes, in these lines lay the beginning of a sentence which he tried again and again to decipher. All that is necessary is to bring. Bring what? And in these words, island, situated, law, geometrical, pole. What geometrical law? What was there that brought the three islands in connection? Had the Pasha chosen them at haphazard? Was it a mere whim that had sent the treasure seekers successively to the Gulf of Oman, Mayumba Bay, and Spitsenburgen? If the rich Egyptian had, as was reported, some knowledge of mathematics, had even given them some problem to solve? As to the word pole, did it mean the extremities of the earth's axis? Certainly not. But then, what did it mean? Jewel racked his brain to obtain some answer to all this, but in vain. Pole. Pole, he repeated to himself. That is the key to the mystery. Often he would talk about this to the bargeman, who approved of his endeavors, for he had no doubt as to the existence of the millions. But, my boy, he would say, there's no need for you to make yourself ill and try to find the solution. Well, Trigamane, it is not for my own sake I assure you. I cared not a fig for the treasure, but my uncle. Yes, for your uncle Jewel. It is hard lines, certainly. To have there under his eyes the document and not be able to, but have you no clue? No. And yet there is the word geometrical in the sentence, and would not be without some reason that it would be there. And then it says, all that is necessary is to bring what? That is it. What? And there is the word pole, which I do not understand the sense of. Unfortunately, I do not understand anything about it. I might help you if I did. Two months went by. There was no change with regard to Antipher, and none with regard to the solution of the problem. One day, it was the 15th of October, before breakfast, and a gate in Jewel were in their room. It was rather cold, and the good fire was blazing in the grate. The young wife, with her hands in her husband's, was looking at him silently. Seeing him so absorbed, she wished to give another turn to his thoughts. Jewel, said she, you often wrote to me during this unfortunate voyage, which has brought us so much trouble. I read your letters over and over again, and I kept them carefully. They could only recall unpleasant remembrances now, my dearest. Yes, but yet I have kept them, and I will always keep them.  Will you tell me today? What could that be? It would please me. I should like to be with you on the steamers, in the train, in the caravan. My darling, we should have to have a map so that I can show you our route from point to point. Well, here's the terrestrial globe. Will that not do as well? Quite as well. Ennegate went and brought the globe, and set it on the table before the fire. Jewel, seeing that it would please Ennegate, sat down by her, turned the globe so as to bring Europe opposite to them, and pointed with his finger to the town of St. Malo. Let us start, he said, and to begin with, Jewel passed from France to Egypt, where Captain Antifor and his friends had stopped at Suez. Then his finger ran down the Red Sea in Indian Ocean, and stopped at Muscat. And so Muscat is there, said Ennegate, and island number one is close by. Yes, a little out in the gulf, then turning the globe Jewel Ridge Tunis, where they met with the banker Zambuco. He traversed the Mediterranean, he stopped at the car, and he crossed the equator, descended the African coast, and paused at Malumbu Bay. That is island number two, said Ennegate. Yes, wifey. And then he went north again along Africa, and across Europe to Edinburgh, where he met Turkamel. Then his finger went further north until he reached the deserted rocks of Spitsenburg. That is island number three, said Ennegate.  Ennegate said nothing, but kept her eyes fixed on the globe. Why did your posh choose these three islands, one after the other? That is what we do not know, and what we shall probably never know. Never? And yet these islands ought to be connected by some geometrical law, if we were to believe the last document. And then there is the word pole, which bothers me. As he spoke, Jewel seemed to fall into a kind of trance, as though his whole mind was concentrated on the solution of this obscure problem. And while he remained silent, Ennegate amused herself by tracing with her finger the route he had traveled. Placing her finger at Muscat, she moved it along to Mayumba, and then in the same curve ran up to Spitsenburg, and returned to the point of departure. That is a circle, she said with a smile. You have been travelling on a round. On a round? Yes, a circumference, a circular voyage. Circular, exclaimed Jewel. He jumped up and took two or three turns across the room, repeating the words. Circumference, circumference. That he stepped over the table, took the globe, ran his finger around it, and uttered a cry. Ennegate was frightened and looked at him anxiously. Was he going mad like his uncle? She looked and trembled, the tears in her eyes. Jewel uttered a second cry. I have found it! I have found it! What? Island number four? Surely the young captain had gone out of his mind. Island number four? Impossible. Tregomane, Tregomane shouted Jewel, opening the window and calling in his neighbor. Then he returned to the globe. A minute afterwards, the bargeman was in the room, and Jewel greeted him with, I have found it! What have you found, my boy? I have found how these islands are geometrically connected, and the place that ought to be occupied by island number four. Can it be possible? replied Tregomane, and looking at Jewel, he wondered, like Ennegate, the young captain, had gone mad. No, replied Jewel, who understood the look. I have not gone out of my mind. Listen. I am listening. These three islands are situated on the circumference of the same circle. Join them, two and two, by straight lines. Bring them together, as the document says, and raise their perpendicular from the middle of each line. The perpendicular will meet in the center of the circle, and that is the central point, the pole where we shall find island number four. A very simple problem of geometry as we see, which Kemalik and Captain Zoh had put into practice. The solution had not previously occurred to Jewel, as he had not noticed that the three islands occupied three points of the same circumference. And it was Ennegate's pretty finger which had traced this thrice-blessed circumference and solved the problem. It is not possible, said the bargeman. It is so. Look again, and convince yourself. It did not take long to convince him. The young captain ran to and fro, no longer able to restrain himself, and kissed the globe, and kissed Ennegate's two cheeks, which were much fresher than the painted cardboard, and said, She found it, Tregamine. She found it. Without her, the idea would never have occurred to me. And then Tregamine became attacked by a sort of delirium jubilans. He began to kick out his legs and round his arms with the grace of a silphide of 30 stone, and rolling from port to starboard, more than he had ever done in the Charmonte Amalee between the banks of the Rants, or on the Port de Legre, with a cargo of elephants, he roared out, I have my long, long, long. I have my jid long jid. I have my long, have my jid. I have my long jid too. But at length, he calmed down. We must tell uncle, said Ennegate. Tell him, said Tregamine, a little surprised at the proposal. Is it wise for us to tell him? That requires reflection, replied Jule. They called Nanon. Bill Breton was told how things stood in a few words, and when Jule asked if they ought to tell her brother, she replied, we ought to not hide anything from him. What if another disappointment awaits him? said Ennegate. He will not be able to bury. A disappointment this time? Certainly not. The last document said the treasure was buried on Island Number 4, said Jule. When Island Number 4 is situated in the center of the circle we have traveled, I am sure of it. I will go and see my brother, said Nanon. A moment afterwards, Captain Antifa appeared in the room. His eyes haggard, his look gloomy, his brows knit. What is the matter? he asked. Jule explained when it had passed, how he had first discovered the geometrical line united the three islands, and the reason why Island Number 4 must necessarily be in the center of that circle. To the surprise of everybody, Antifa took matters quite coolly. He seemed to have been waiting for the news, as though nothing was more natural than that he should hear it sooner or later. Where is this central point, Jule? was all he asked. Jule placed the globe on the table. With a flexible rule in his hand, he joined Muscat the Mayumba and Mayumba to Spitsenbergen. From the middle of each line he drew a perpendicular, and the perpendicular crossed in the center of the circle at which the islands were placed. The center was in the Mediterranean, between Sicily and Cape Bon, close to the island of Pentaleria. There it is, said Jule. There it is. And carefully going over the position again, and noting the Meridian, and Parallel, he said in a firm voice. 37 degrees, 26 minutes north latitude, 10 degrees, 33 minutes east longitude. But is there an island there? asked Tregemain. There ought to be, said Jule. Is there one there? That is it exactly, Tregemain, said Antefer, in a voice that made the windows rattle. Exactly, it wants but that. And he rushed out, showed himself up in his own room, and did not appear again during the day. End of Chapter 31. Chapter 32 of Captain Antefer by Jules Verne. This Lubavax recording is in the public domain. Recording by Joe DeNoya, Somerset, New Jersey. Chapter 32 What did all this mean if Antefer had not gone mad? During the following days he resumed his walks in the ramparts, and along the harbor, smoking his pipe, and grinding away at his pebbles. He was no longer the same man. The sort of sardonic smile was stereotyped on his lips. He made no allusion to the treasure, nor to his travels, nor to the final expedition which would enable him to put in his hands on the much sought-for millions. Tregemain and the others did not return to the subject. Every moment they expected Antefer to give them their marching orders, but he said not a word. What can it mean? asked Nanan. A change has come over him, said Jules. Perhaps he is afraid of having to marry Miss Sambuco, it's just a debauchement. But that does not matter. It will never do to leave all those millions there. If Antefer's opinions had changed, it was evident that Tregemain's had. He it was who was now seized with thirst for gold, and yet he was logical, when they did not know if they would find an island, they went in search of it. Now that they knew where the island was, why should they not be off? Tregemain was constantly talking to Jules about it. What is the use? asked the captain. He spoke about it to Nanan. Bah! said she. Leave the treasure where it is. He spoke to Enigate. Look here, my little one. There's more than a million to put in your pocket. Well, Mr. Tregemain, there is a kiss for you, and that is worth more. At last he resolved to mention the matter to Antefer, and afford on after the last scene, he did so. Ah, there's that, er, that, er, island, er, um, what island? The island of the Mediterranean. It exists, I suppose. Exists? I am more certain of its existence than I am of yours and mine. Then why do we not go there? Antefer's reply was so oracular that Tregemain tried in vain to understand it. But he was not discouraged. After all, the millions were not for himself, but for the young people who were not thinking of the future. He would think of it for them. And so he persisted, and one day Antefer said to him, So it is you who want to go? Yes, I want to go. Your opinion is that we ought to go. We ought to go, and better today than tomorrow. Very well. Let us go. But before starting, it was necessary to come to some determination regarding Zambuco and Ben Omar. Their positions as co-legatee and executor required that they should be present at the discovery of island number four, and they were invited to be at the island on a certain day, the one to take his share, other to take his commission. Antefer would have everything done in order. Two letters were sent to Tunis and Alexandria, making an appointment for a meeting to take place on the 23rd of October at Drogenti in Sicily, the nearest town to the island. Turgamel's share would be sent to him in due course, and he could do what he liked with it. Throw it into the Firth of Forth, perhaps, if he was afraid of it burning his fingers. When the voyage was decided on, no one would be astonished at Tregemain having to be one of the party. What is more surprising is that Antefer had also to go. Jull had only been married two months, and he would not consent to leave his wife behind. How long would this new exploration last? Not long. They only had to go and return. They had no fifth document to search for. It was certain that Camelik Pasha had not added other links to the chain of islands, which was long enough ready. No, the statement was definite. The treasure was under one of the rocks at island number four, and this island was mathematically placed between the coast of Sicily and the island of Pentallaria. Only it cannot be of much importance, for it is not marked on any of the maps, said Jull. Probably not replied Antefer with a grin that would have done credit to Mephisto. Really, it was incomprehensible. It was decided to go by the shortest road, which was the railway. There existed already an uninterrupted line of rails across France and Italy, from St. Molo to Naples. Expense was no object, considering the millions that were in view. On the morning of the 16th of October, the non-bade goodbye to the travelers, who started by the first train. At Paris, where they did not stop, they took the fast train to Lyons, crossed the Franco-Italian frontier, saw nothing of Milan, or Florence, or Rome, and reached Naples on the 20th of October. Tregormin was as confident of the result of this new expedition, as he was exhausted by a hundred hours of shaking in a railway carriage. Leaving the hotel in the morning, Captain Antefer and his companions took passage on a steamer, sailing for Palermo, and after a fine day's crossing, landed in the Sicilian capital. Do not imagine that there was any talk of visiting the local attractions. This time, not even Tregormin thought of bringing away a fugitive remembrance of this last voyage, nor of piously assisting at those Sicilian vespers he had heard of. As far as he was concerned, Palermo was not the famous city he captured in turns by Normans, Frenchmen, Spaniards, Englishmen. It was merely the point of departure of the public conveyances, which were on twice a week to Corleone in nine hours, and from Corleone to Giurgenti, also twice a week, in 12 hours. It was at Giurgenti that our travelers had business, and it was in this ancient agregentum situated on the southern coast of the island that they were to meet Zambuco and Benomar. This means a locomotion might be subject to certain incidents or accidents. The post roads are not very safe. There are still brigands in Sicily. There always are. They flourish like olive trees or aloes. But nevertheless, the coach started next day, and the journey was accomplished without adventure. They reached Giurgenti in the evening of the 24th of October, and if they had not reached their goal, they were at least very near it. The banker and the notary were already there, one from Tunis, the other from Alexandria. Oh, an extinguishable thirst for gold. Of what art that not capable? As they met, the colegates exchanged, but these words. Sure of the island this time? Sure.  To find a boat of some sort at Giurgenti was not difficult. Fishing boats, there are many, and coasting vessels also. Balancels, tartans, faluchas, sparenairs, and every other sort of Mediterranean rig. Besides, all they wanted was a short excursion on the sea, a mere trip of 40 miles or so to the westward. With a fair wind they could start that evening, and in the morning would be so near their island that they could land there before noon. The boat was soon engaged. Her name was the Providenza. She was a faluka of about 30 tons, commanded by an old sea wolf, who in spite of his 50 years, still frequented these parts, and well he knew them. With his eyes shut, he could take a ship from Sicily to Malta, and from Malta to the coast of Tunis. There is no need to tell him what our business is, Satregomain, and Jules thought it prudent not to do so. The name of the captain of the faluka was Jacopo Grappa, and it was fortunate for the travelers that he knew enough French to understand it, and make himself understood. The travelers were fortunate in another respect. It was October. There were a thousand reasons for expecting bad weather, a heavy sea, a cloudy sky. But no, the cold was already perceptible, the air was dry, the breeze blew from the land, and when the Providenza set sail, a magnificent moon poured its rays on the highest Sicilian mountains. Grappa's crew consisted but of five men, enough for handling the faluka. The light-blood flew over the quiet sea, a sea so quiet that even Ben Omar suffered no disturbance. The night passed without incident, and the dawn announced a superb day. Intifor's behavior was astonishing. He walked about the deck, hands in his pockets, pipe in mouth, affecting perfect indifference. Tregomain, in a great state of excitement, could hardly believe his eyes. The bargeman had taken up his position in the bow. Anaget and Jewell were side by side, Anaget enjoying the charm of the voyage. Ah, why could she not follow her husband wherever the chances of his sailor's life would take him? From time to time, Jewell would stroll up to the steersman to see that the Providenza was keeping on her course due west. At the rate at which she appeared to be going, he reckoned that she would be at the desired place about eleven o'clock. Then he would return to Anaget, a proceeding which once or twice brought him an admonition from Tregomain. Do not devote so much attention to your wife, Jewell. Give a little to our business. Notice that he said, our business. Oh, how he had changed, but was it not in the interest of his young friends? At ten o'clock there was no sign of land, and the fact that in this part of the Mediterranean, between Sicily and Cape Bonn, there is no island of importance except Pentalaria.  Grappler could not understand why the faluca was put on this course. Were his passengers bound for the coast of Tunis? But it did not matter to him. They had paid him well to go west, and he would go west as long as they asked him to. Are we to go west all the time, he asked Jewell? Yes. Very well. At a quarter past ten, Jewell, sextant in hand, took his first observation. He found that the faluca was in latitude 37 degrees, 30 minutes north, and longitude 10 degrees, 33 minutes east. While he was at work and if I looked at him sideways and winked. Well, Jewell, we are in the right longitude, and we have to drop a few miles to the south. The drop a few miles, nephew, drop. I fancy that we should never drop enough. The faluca was put on the port-tac, so as to approach Pentalaria. Old Grappa, with his eyes screwed up and his lips pressed together, was lost in conjectures, and when Tregerman came near, he could not help asking him, in a low voice, what they were looking for in these parts. A handkerchief we had lost here, replied the bargeman, as if we were getting out of temper. If so, excellent a man could do so. Very well, senior. At a quarter to twelve, there were still no massive rocks in view. They hit the provendenza ought to be on the site of island number four. Nothing. Nothing as far as the eye could reach. Jewell went up to the starboard shrouds of the mast head. From there he could see for twelve or fifteen miles around him. Nothing. Always nothing. When he returned to the deck, Sambuco, flanked by the notary, approached to him, and in an anxious voice asked, island number four, it is not in sight. Are you sure of your position as the antifer in the jeering tone? Sure. That it will appear that you no longer know how to take an observation. Jewell flushed with anger, but ended up getting calmed in with a supplicating gesture. Tregerman judged it wise to interfere. Grappa, he said, senior, we are in search of an island. Yes, senior. Is there an island anywhere near here? An island? Yes. Do you mean an island? An island, said Antifer, shrugging its shoulders. Yes, an island. A pretty little island. An island. An icky little ilicky of an island.  Excuse me, excellency. Are you really looking for an island? Yes, said guildess Tregerman. Does one exist? No, senior. No? No, but there used to be one, for I've seen it, and landed on its surface. Its surface repeated departure? But it has disappeared. Disappeared, exclaimed Jewell? Yes, senior. 31 years ago, come San Lucia. And what was this island, asked Tregerman, clasping his hands. Why, said Antifer, it was Graham's Island. Graham's Island? What a revelation to Jewell. Yes, it was Julia Island, or Graham's Island, or Hoffam's Island, or Ferdinandia, or Narita, whichever name you please, which had happened on this spot on the 28th of June, 1831. What doubt could there be as to its existence? The Neapolitan Captain Carraro had been present at the very moment of the submarine eruption which had produced it. Prince Pigtotelli had observed the column which burst in the center of the newborn island with a continuous light as if it were a firework. Captain Irton and Dr. J. Davy had been witnesses of this marvelous phenomenon. During two months the island, covered with ashes and hot sand, could be walked over. It was part of the seabed which platonic forces had rised above the water level. In the month of December, 1831, the rocky mass had sunk, the island had disappeared, and its portion of the sea had retained no trace of it. During this lapse of time, so short, ill luck had led Kamalik Pasha and Captain Zoe into this part of the Mediterranean. They sought an unknown island and they found one, which appeared in June, and vanished in December. And now it was fifty fathoms down that the precious treasure lay. The millions which Turkomel would have hurled into the sea had got down into the sea of themselves and would never be spread over the world. And Captain Antifurt knew this. When Jewel, three weeks before it given him the position of island number four between Sicily and Pentalaria, he had once recognized it as Grahams Island. When he was a youngster at sea, he had sailed in these parts and knew all about the double phenomenon in 1831, the appearance and disappearance of an ephemeral island, and a three hundred feet below the level of the waves. When he had satisfied himself of this, after a fit of anger, the most terrible in his life, he had made up his mind to give up all hopes of ever obtaining the treasure of Kamalik Pasha. And that is why he had not spoken of resuming the search. If he had consented under Trangobane's insistence, if he had pledged into the expenses of another voyage, it was only for his own self-esteem to show that he was not the greatest dupe in the matter. The appointment he had made with Zamboko and Ben Omar was to give them the lesson which their duplicity toward him so well deserved. Turning toward the Maltese banker and the Egyptian notary, he said, Yes, the millions are there under our feet.  Come, Zamboko, to the water, Ben Omar. And if ever these two regretted their acceptance of Antiphar's invitation, it was when he overwhelmed them with sarcasms, forgetting that he had been as keen as they were in the search of the treasure. And now for the eastwards of Antiphar, and for home, where we will live so happily, said Jewel. Even without the millions of the Pasha, said Enogate, we shall have to do without them at a Trangobane in the tone of comic resignation. And meanwhile, the young captain, out of curiosity, asked for a sounding to be taken. Krapa obeyed with a shake of the head. When the line had run out to a little over 300 feet, the lead struck a resisting mass. That was Grahams Island. That was island number four, lost at this depth. At Jewel's orders, the fluke of war into the wind. The wind being ahead, she had to beat the windward all night, and the morning was well advanced when the providenza moored alongside the key at Jurgenti, after this fruitless exploration. But as the passengers were taking a leave of old Krapa, he said to Antiphar, Excellency, what is it? I have something to say. Speak, my friend, speak. Signore, all hope is not lost. Antiphar drew himself up, and it was as though a look of supreme covetousness illuminated his glance. All hope, he answered. Yes, Excellency, the island disappeared toward the end of the year 1831, but, but, it has been rising ever since 1850. Like the barometer when fine weather is coming, said Antiphar, with a loud shout of laughter. Unfortunately, when it appears with its millions, our millions, we should not be here. Not even you, Trigemane, unless you're diacentinarian many times over. Which is hardly probable, replied the bargeman. But it is true, as the old sailor said. The island is gradually rising to the surface of the Mediterranean, and a few centuries later it may be possible to have quite another ending to these wonderful adventures of Captain Antiphar. The End


In other news tonight, an international Falls legislator will serve as Assistant House Minority Leader for the 2017-2018 State Legislative Session. District 3A State Representative Rob Eklund was recently selected by his peers to serve as Assistant Minority Leader. He will aid Minority Leader Representative Melissa Hortman and the leadership team in advocating for caucus priorities on the floor House, the House of the Floor, I should say in the media, and across Minnesota.