# Works of Jules Verne/Five Weeks in a Balloon/Chapter 23

CHAPTER XXIII A GOOD MAN'S DEATH
The night was splendid. The priest continued to sleep in a prostrate condition.
"He will never wake again," said Joe. "Poor young man! scarcely thirty years old."
"He will die in your arms," said the doctor, in despair. "His already feeble breathing has grown weaker still. I can do nothing to save him."
"Those infamous rascals," cried Joe, upon whom these sudden fits of anger occasionally seized, "and to think that ​this worthy priest has found words actually to plead for, to excuse, and pardon them!"
"Heaven has sent us a lovely night, Joe; it may be his last night, perhaps. He will suffer but little longer, and he will pass away in a peaceful sleep."
The dying man pronounced some disjointed words; the doctor went to him. The invalid's breathing had become labored; he asked for air. The curtains were drawn aside and he respired with delight the pure air of the calm, clear night. The stars sent down to him their trembling light, while the moon wrapped him in the pure refulgence of her beams. "My friends," said he, in a feeble voice, "I am going! May God reward you and bring you safely home, and pay my debt of gratitude."
"Do not relinquish hope," said Kennedy; "it is only a temporary weakness. You will not die. How could anyone die this lovely summer night?"
"Death is here, I know it!" said the missionary. "Let me look it in the face. Death, the commencement of joys eternal, is only the end of earthly cares. Place me upon my knees, my friends, I beg of you."
Kennedy raised him up, and was shocked to see his helpless limbs give way beneath him.
"My God! my God!" exclaimed the dying apostle. "Have mercy upon me!" His face lighted up. Far away from that earth where he had never known happiness; in the midst of that night which wrapped him in its sweetest rays of light; on the road to that heaven towards which he raised himself in a miraculous assumption, he appeared to be entering upon another life.
His last gesture was to bless his friends of a day; and he fell back in the arms of Kennedy, whose face was bathed in tears.
"Dead!" said the doctor, bending over him. "Alas! dead!" And with one accord the three men fell upon their knees.
"To-morrow," said Ferguson, at length, "We will bury him in this soil of Africa, which he has sprinkled with his blood."
During the remainder of the night the body was watched in turn by the doctor, Kennedy, and Joe, and not a single word broke the holy silence of the time.
​Next day the wind sprang from the south, and the "Victoria" passed slowly over a vast range of mountains. Here were extinct craters, there barren ravines; not a drop of water lay in these arid crests; heaped-up masses of rock, erratic blocks of stone, and white marl-pits, all denoted the profound sterility of the district.
Towards mid-day the doctor, in order to bury the body, determined to descend to a ravine surrounded by volcanic rocks of primitive formation; the surrounding mountains acted as shelter, and permitted him to bring the car down upon the earth, for there was no tree which could be utilized as a hold for the grapnels.
But, as he had explained to Kennedy, in consequence of the loss of the ballast at the time of the rescue of the priest, he could not now descend without letting a proportionate quantity of the gas escape: he then opened the safety valve of the exterior balloon. The hydrogen escaped, and the "Victoria" descended quietly towards the ravine.
So soon as the car touched the ground the doctor closed the valve, Joe jumped out, but kept one hand upon the edge of the car, and with the other he collected a number of stones which soon equaled his own weight. He then set to work with both hands, and soon placed in the car more than 500 lbs. weight of stone, when the doctor and Kennedy were able to descend in their turn. The "Victoria" was thus balanced, and its ascensional force was not sufficient to raise her.
Moreover, it was not necessary to use a great number of these blocks of stone, for those thrown in by Joe were of a very great weight; a fact which at once directed Ferguson's attention to them. The ground was strewn with quartz and porphyritic rocks.
"Here is a curious discovery!" said the doctor to himself.
Meantime Kennedy and Joe were seeking a suitable spot for the grave. It was fearfully hot in the ravine, shut in as it was like a kind of furnace. The mid-day sun poured his rays directly upon it.
It was necessary first to get rid of the rocky fragments which encumbered the ground; then a grave was dug sufficiently deep to preserve the body from the attacks of wild beasts. Then the body of the priestly martyr was interred ​with profound respect. The earth was thrown upon the mortal remains, and the great fragments of rock were disposed above like a tombstone.
The doctor still remained motionless and lost in thought. He paid no attention to the summons of his companions, nor did he return with them to seek shelter from the noon-tide heat.
"What are you thinking of, Samuel?" inquired Kennedy.
"Of the curious contrasts nature presents and the extraordinary effect of chance. Do you know in what ground this man of self-denial and simplicity has been buried?"
"What do you mean, Samuel?"
"This priest who had vowed himself to poverty now rests in a gold mine!"
"A gold mine!" exclaimed Kennedy and Joe.
"Yes, a gold mine!" replied the doctor. "These stones, which you trample upon, as upon stones of no value, are of great mineral purity."
"Impossible, impossible!" repeated Joe.
"You will not have to search long amongst these fissures of the schist without finding some large nuggets," said the doctor.
Joe threw himself at once upon the scattered fragments, and Kennedy was not long in following his example.
"Steady, my brave Joe," said his master.
"Oh! sir, you speak about it very calmly."
"What? a philosopher of your stamp———"
"Ah! sir, yours is the only philosophy!"
"Let us see; reflect a little. What good will all this gold do; we cannot carry it away?"
"We cannot carry it away! Why not, for instance?"
"It is too heavy for our car. I was hesitating whether I should tell you at all, for fear of exciting your regret."
"What!" cried Joe, "abandon all this treasure— a fortune to us—our own—abandon that!"
"Take care, take care, my friend. Have you caught the gold fever? Has not yonder dead body, which we came here to bury, taught you the vanity of all earthly things?"
"That is all very true," replied Joe; "but there is the gold after all. Mr. Kennedy, will you not aid me in collecting a few of these millions?"
​"What should we do with them, my poor Joe?" said the Scot, who could not help smiling. "We did not come here to make our fortune, and we ought not to bring it back with us."
"These millions are too heavy," replied the doctor, "and not easily carried in the pocket."
"But," said Joe, driven to his last intrenchments, "why cannot we carry this mineral as ballast, instead of sand?"
"Well, I have no objection to that," said Ferguson; "but don't you feel disappointed when we have to throw some thousands of pounds overboard."
"Thousands of pounds!" repeated Joe. "Is it possible that there is so much gold?"
"Yes, my friend; this is a reservoir in which Nature has amassed her treasure for centuries. There is sufficient here to enrich whole countries—an Australia and a California united at the bottom of a desert."
"And all that will remain useless?"
"Perhaps so. In any case, listen to what I propose for your consolation."
"That will be difficult to accomplish," replied Joe, with a grieved air.
"Listen. I will take the exact bearings of this place, I will make you a present of it, and on your return to England you can share with your friends—if you think so much gold will make them happy."
"Let us go, sir; I see you are right—I give up, since I must. Let us fill the car with this precious mineral. What remains at the termination of the journey will be so much gained."
So Joe set to work with a will. He soon collected about 1,000 lbs. of quartz fragments, in which the gold was embedded as if in a vein of great thickness.
The doctor watched him with a smile; during this work he took the levels and found the bearings of the tomb of the missionary were 22° 23' long. and 4° 55' N. lat. Then, casting a last look at the spot where the poor Frenchman lay, he approached the balloon. He had wished to erect a modest yet substantial cross upon the tomb thus abandoned in the midst of African wilds, but not a tree was to be seen in the neighborhood.
"God will know where to find it," he muttered.
​A very serious thought now began to occupy the doctor's mind. He would have given a good deal of this gold to discover a little water. He wanted to replace what had been thrown away during the elevation of the negro; but this was impossible in these sterile plains, and this fear tormented him. Obliged to keep the blow-pipe continually at work, he began to be short of water for drinking purposes, and so made up his mind not to neglect any opportunity to replenish it.
On his return to the car he found it encumbered with the stones thrown in by the avaricious Joe, but he got in without making any remark. Kennedy took his usual place and Joe brought up the rear—not without directing a covetous glance at the treasure in the ravine.
The doctor lit the blow-pipe, the coil was warmed, the current of hydrogen was formed in a few minutes, the gas expanded, but the balloon did not stir.
Joe's face wore an expression of uneasiness, but he said nothing.
"Joe," said the doctor.
Joe, did not answer.
"Joe, do you hear me?"
Joe made a sign that he heard, but did not wish to understand.
"Will you be so good," continued Ferguson, "to throw some of that mineral over?"
"But, sir, you allowed me———"
"I allowed you to replace the ballast—no more."
"Still———"
"Do you wish us to remain in this desert forever?"
Joe cast a beseeching glance at Kennedy, but the Scot had all the appearance of a man who could not interfere.
"Well, Joe."
"Your blow-pipe isn't working yet," said Joe.
"My blow-pipe is working, as you may see, but the balloon will not rise until you have got rid of a little ballast."
Joe scratched his ear and took up a fragment of quartz, the smallest of all. He weighed it, re-weighed it, passed it from hand to hand (it was about 3 or 4 lbs. weight), and threw it over.
The "Victoria" did not stir.
"Hang it, it is not moving yet!" said Joe.
​"Not yet," said the doctor. "Go on!"
Kennedy laughed, Joe threw away about 12 lbs.
The balloon remained immovable. Joe got pale.
"My poor fellow," said Ferguson, Dick, you, and myself weigh, I believe, about 400 lbs.; you must then get rid of a weight at lest equal to ours, since it replaces us."
"Throw away 400 lbs.?" cried Joe piteously.
"And something over, so that we may ascend. Go on; courage."
The worthy lad, heaving deep sighs, commenced to throw the ballast over. From time to time he stopped.
"We are ascending," he would say each time.
"We are not," the doctor would invariably reply.
"It moves!" he said at last.
"Go on," repeated Ferguson.
"It is ascending, I am sure!" said Joe.
"Go on still," answered Ferguson.
Then Joe, taking up the last block, desperately threw it away from the car.
The "Victoria" rose about 100 feet, and the blow-pipe being at work, it soon passed the neighboring summits.
"Now, Joe," said the doctor, "there still remains a large fortune if we can retain it until the end of our journey, and you will be a rich man to the end of your days."
Joe made no reply, and lay down gently upon his bed of minerals.
"Just look, my dear Dick, at the influence this metal has exercised upon the best lad in the world. What passions, what desires, what crimes might not be born of the knowledge of such a mine! It is melancholy."
In the evening the "Victoria" had made ninety miles towards the west; it was then a direct line of 1,400 miles to Zanzibar.
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