# Works of Jules Verne/Five Weeks in a Balloon/Chapter 35

CHAPTER XXXV THE ISLE OF BIDDIOMAHS
What had become of Joe during the vain search made for him by his master?
When he fell into the lake his first act, after rising to the surface, was to cast his eyes upwards; he saw the "Victoria" already above the water, mounting fast; little by little it diminished, and soon, meeting with a rapid current, disappeared in the north. His master and his friend were saved.
"It was a very happy idea of mine to throw myself into ​the Tchad," said Joe to himself. "Mr. Kennedy would have done the same if he had thought of it, for it is only natural that one man should sacrifice himself to save two others. That is mathematical.—Q. E. D.!"
Reassured upon this point, Joe began to consider his position; he was in the midst of an immense lake, surrounded by unknown, and probably savage, tribes. All the more reason then for him to get out of the scrape, and to trust no one but himself; he was then no longer afraid.
Before the attack by the birds of prey, which, according to him, had conducted themselves like true condors, he had noticed an island on the horizon. He now resolved to make for it, and determined to put in practice all his knowledge of swimming, after he had got rid of part of his clothing. He did not trouble himself about a little swim of five or six miles; so, while he was in the open lake, he thought of nothing but of swimming straight and vigorously.
At the end of an hour and a half the distance between him and the island was much less. But as he approached the land, a thought at first fugitive, and then more definite, weighed upon his mind. He knew that the banks were frequented by enormous alligators, and he was aware of their voracity. So ready was the brave lad to believe everything in the world was "natural," that he did not feel very much moved; he feared that white flesh was particularly tasteful to crocodiles, and he advanced with extreme caution, with eyes strained to watch.
He was not more than 100 yards from the shadowy bank, when a smell of musk pervaded the air around him.
"Ha!" he muttered; "as I feared, the alligator is not far off."
He dived at once, but not sufficiently to avoid the contact of an immense body, whose scaly skin scraped him as it passed. He gave himself up for lost, and began to swim with desperate energy. He came to the surface, took breath, and again dived. He endured a quarter of an hour of poignant agony which all his philosophy was unable to overcome, and fancied he heard behind him the noise of the immense jaws ready to snap him up. He was swimming then as quietly as possible to land, when he was seized by one arm, and then around the waist.
​Poor Joe, he gave a last thought to his master, and began to fight desperately, but felt himself drawn, not towards the bottom of the lake, as crocodiles have the habit of doing to devour their prey, but to the surface. Scarcely had he drawn breath and opened his eyes, than he perceived two negroes, of an ebony hue; these Africans held him tightly and uttered strange cries.
"Hollo!" cried Joe. "Niggers instead of crocodiles. Faith, I prefer the former. But how do these fellows dare to bathe in such places as this?"
Joe forgot that the inhabitants of the islands on the lake, like all black people, can bathe with impunity in water swarming with alligators without heeding them. The amphibious inhabitants of this lake have a great reputation for being inoffensive saurians.
But Joe was only "out of the frying-pan into the fire." He determined to wait the issue of events, and as he could not do otherwise, he permitted himself to be conducted to the bank without displaying any fear.
"Evidently," thought he, these people have seen the 'Victoria' skimming the lake like an aërial monster; they have been distant witnesses of my fall, and they cannot but feel respect for a man who has fallen from Heaven. Let them go on."
Joe was reflecting thus when he was landed in the midst of a shouting crowd of both sexes and all ages, but not of every color. He was with a tribe of Biddiomahs of a splendid black tint. There was no reason for him to blush, even at the lightness of his clothing; he was in "deshabille," the latest fashion of the country.
But ere he had time to take in all the situation he could not mistake the adoration of which he became the object.
This fact did not reassure him, when the affair of Kazeh recurred to his memory.
"I see that I am about to become a god—a son of the Moon perhaps. Well, that will do as well as any other when there is no choice. What is necessary is to gain time. If the 'Victoria' happens to pass, I will profit by my new position to give my worshipers a view of a miraculous apotheosis."
While Joe was thus reflecting the crowd was assembling round him; they prostrated themselves, they shouted, they ​touched him, even became familiar; but at last they had the forethought to offer him a splendid feast, composed of sour milk with rice, pounded up with honey. The lad, who took everything as it came, made one of the best meals he had ever enjoyed in his life, and gave the people some idea of the fashion in which gods eat on great occasions.
When evening arrived the sorceress took Joe respectfully by the hand and conducted him to a kind of hut surrounded by "charms"; before entering he cast an anxious glance upon the heaps of bones which were piled up around this sanctuary; he had, however, plenty of time to reflect upon his position after he was locked in.
During the evening and a part of the night he heard the songs of the feasting multitude, the noise of a species of drum and of old iron pots, very sweet to the African ear; the choruses were shouted as accompaniment to interminable dances, which enclosed the cabin in their mazes.
Joe heard this deafening clamor through the mud and reed-lined walls of the hut. Perhaps, in other circumstances, he might have taken an interest in these strange ceremonies, but his mind was disturbed by unpleasant forebodings. Looking even at the bright side of things, it was sad and depressing to be lost amongst a savage people. Few travelers who had ventured so far as this had ever returned. Moreover, could he pride himself upon the worship already accorded him. He had good reason to distrust human grandeur, and asked himself whether, in that region, worship was not only a preparation for being devoured.
Notwithstanding this doleful prospect, after some hours devoted to reflection, fatigue overcame him, and Joe fell into a deep sleep, which would, doubtless, have continued till daylight if an unexpected dampness of the earth had not awakened him.
He soon perceived that the water was rising, and so quickly that it soon reached his waist.
"What can this be?" said he; "an inundation—a water-spout—a new mode of sacrifice? By Jove! I shall wait no longer, it will soon be up to my neck." As he spoke, he burst through the wall by a vigorous application of his shoulder, and found himself—where?—in the open lake!
​"Rather a bad sort of country for the owners," said Joe, as he again set out swimming vigorously. One of those phenomena by no means unfrequent in Lake Tchad had released the brave lad. More than one island has completely disappeared which had seemed to possess the solidity of rock, and the tribes on the banks of the lake are obliged to rescue the unfortunate inhabitants who have escaped.
Joe was not aware of this peculiarity, but he did not fail to profit by it. He perceived a boat drifting about, and rapidly secured it. It appeared hollowed out from the trunk of a tree. A pair of paddles were fortunately in it, and Joe, profiting by a rapid current, let himself drift.
"Let me see where I am," he said. "The polar star, which is honestly doing his duty in pointing out the route to the north, will assist me."
He remembered with satisfaction that the current was bearing him towards the north end of Lake Tchad, and he let it do so. About two in the morning he landed upon a promontory, covered with reeds, which were very troublesome, even to his philosophy, but a tree seemed to be growing for the express purpose of offering him a bed amid its leaves. Joe twined himself in the branches, and, without daring to sleep, awaited the first rays of morning.
The day broke with the suddenness usual in equatorial regions. Joe threw a comprehensive view around and over the tree in which he had passed the night. The branches were literally covered with serpents and chameleons—the leaves were hidden beneath their folds—a tree of quite a new species to produce such reptiles. Under the influence of the sun's rays they began to crawl about and twist in all directions. Joe experienced a sharp terror, mingled with disgust, and jumped from the tree amid the hissings of the snakes.
"That is a thing that no one would credit," thought he.
He did not know that the last letters of Doctor Vogel had announced this peculiarity of the banks of the Tchad, where the reptiles are more numerous than in any other country. After this experience, Joe determined to travel with more circumspection for the future, and turning towards the sun, he then struck out to the northeast. He took good care to avoid cabins, huts, or caves, and, in a ​word, any place that might serve as shelter for any human being. How often did he look up at the sky! He hoped to see the "Victoria," and though he had vainly sought her all the day, that did not diminish his confidence in his master; he must have had great firmness of character to accept the situation so philosophically. Hunger now began to unite with fatigue, for a diet of roots, the marrow of the arbutus, from which "melé" is made, or the fruit of the trees do not refresh a man; and yet, according to his estimate, he had traversed a thousand miles to the west. His body bore the marks of the thorns and prickly reeds, through which he had pushed his way, and his wounded and bleeding feet rendered his progress very painful. But still he could fight against his sufferings, and, as evening set in, he determined to pass the night on the borders of the lake.
There he had to submit to the bites of myriads of insects. Flies, mosquitoes, ants, half an inch long, swarmed around him. At the end of two hours Joe had not a rag of clothing left, the insects had devoured everything. This was a terrible night, which brought no sleep to the weary traveler. All this time the boars, the wild oxen, the ajorib, a sort of rhinoceros and equally dangerous, raged in the copses and beneath the waters of the lake. This concert of wild beasts was kept up into the middle of the night. Joe did not dare to move. His determination and patience scarcely held out under such circumstances.
At length day dawned. Joe rose hurriedly, and judge of his horror when he perceived that he had unwittingly shared his bed with an enormous frog, about five inches broad, a monstrous disgusting reptile, which kept staring at Joe with its great round eyes. Joe felt his heart beat, and distaste lending him strength, he ran away as hard as he could and plunged into the lake. This bath assuaged the itching that tormented him, and having munched some leaves, he resumed his route with an obstinacy and persistence for which he could not account; he was no longer conscious of his actions, but, nevertheless, he was aware of the existence of a power within him superior to despair.
Now the pangs of hunger began to assail him, and he was obliged to tie a band of weed around his body. Fortunately his thirst could be quenched at every step, and ​while recalling the sufferings of the desert, he found some consolation in not having to endure that terrible experience.
"What can have become of the 'Victoria?'" thought he. "The wind is from the north. It might return to the lake. Without doubt Mr. Samuel has gone to establish the equilibrium anew, but yesterday was sufficient for that; it is not, then, impossible that to-day——— But I must act as if I were never likely to see him again. After all, if I do reach one of those great towns on the lake I shall only be in the same position as those great travelers of whom master has spoken. Why should I not do as well as they? They have returned—some of them! why, the devil——— Well, courage!"
As he was thinking thus and pressing onward, Joe fell amongst a troop of savages in a wood. He stopped in time, and was not seen by them. The negroes were engaged in poisoning their arrows with the juice of the euphorbia, an important proceeding in these countries, and almost rising to the dignity of a religious ceremony.
Joe stood still and held his breath, and hid in the midst of a brake, when rising before him, seen through an opening in the leaves, he perceived the "Victoria,"—the "Victoria" herself—directing her course towards the lake, scarcely 100 feet above him. It was impossible to make himself heard—impossible for the occupants to see him.
Tears came into his eyes, not of despair, but of recognition. His master was searching for him, he had not been abandoned. He was obliged to await the departure of the negroes; he could then leave his retreat and run across to the border of the lake.
But the "Victoria" soon disappeared in the distance. Joe resolved to wait its return, for it would surely come again. It did actually pass, but more to the east. Joe ran, gesticulated, shouted, all in vain. A violent wind hurried her away.
For the first time, energy and hope failed Joe. He thought he was lost; he believed his master had gone never to return. He did not wish to reflect—he did not dare.
Completely overcome, with bleeding feet and wounded limbs, he plodded on during the whole of that day and a part of the night. He dragged himself on his way, some​times on his hands and knees. He already foresaw the moment his strength would fail him, and when he must die!
As he proceeded, he suddenly found himself opposite a marsh—or rather, to that which he felt very soon was a marsh, for the night was very dark. He fell unexpectedly into the thick mud, and, notwithstanding his struggles and a desperate resistance, he felt himself sink by degrees into this miry ground; some minutes later he was engulfed up to his waist. "Death is here at last," he said; "and such a death!"
He fought despairingly, but all his efforts only served to plunge him more deeply into the grave which the unhappy man believed to be his own. Not a fragment of wood to support him, not a reed to hold to. He fancied it was all over. His eyes closed. "Master, master, save me!" he cried.
And this despairing cry, already almost stifled, and to which no echo replied, lost itself in the thick darkness of the night.
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