He made no remark, but he began to feel very anxious. This persistence
of the wind to head him off toward the southern part of Africa was
defeating his calculations, and he no longer knew upon whom or upon
what to depend. Should he not reach the English or French territories,
what was to become of him in the midst of the barbarous tribes that
infest the coasts of Guinea? How should he there get to a ship to take
him back to England? And the actual direction of the wind was driving
him along to the kingdom of Dahomey, among the most savage races, and
into the power of a ruler who was in the habit of sacrificing thousands
of human victims at his public orgies. There he would be lost!
On the other hand, the balloon was visibly wearing out, and the doctor
felt it failing him. However, as the weather was clearing up a little,
he hoped that the cessation of the rain would bring about a change in
the atmospheric currents.
It was therefore a disagreeable reminder of the actual situation when
Joe said aloud:
“There! the rain’s going to pour down harder than ever; and this time
it will be the deluge itself, if we’re to judge by yon cloud that’s
coming up!”
“What! another cloud?” asked Ferguson.
“Yes, and a famous one,” replied Kennedy.
“I never saw the like of it,” added Joe.
“I breathe freely again!” said the doctor, laying down his spy-glass.
“That’s not a cloud!”
“Not a cloud?” queried Joe, with surprise.
“No; it is a swarm.”
“Eh?”
“A swarm of grasshoppers!”
“That? Grasshoppers!”
“Myriads of grasshoppers, that are going to sweep over this country
like a water-spout; and woe to it! for, should these insects alight, it
will be laid waste.”
“That would be a sight worth beholding!”
“Wait a little, Joe. In ten minutes that cloud will have arrived where
we are, and you can then judge by the aid of your own eyes.”
The doctor was right. The cloud, thick, opaque, and several miles in
extent, came on with a deafening noise, casting its immense shadow over
the fields. It was composed of numberless legions of that species of
grasshopper called crickets. About a hundred paces from the balloon,
they settled down upon a tract full of foliage and verdure. Fifteen
minutes later, the mass resumed its flight, and our travellers could,
even at a distance, see the trees and the bushes entirely stripped, and
the fields as bare as though they had been swept with the scythe. One
would have thought that a sudden winter had just descended upon the
earth and struck the region with the most complete sterility.
“Well, Joe, what do you think of that?”
“Well, doctor, it’s very curious, but quite natural. What one
grasshopper does on a small scale, thousands do on a grand scale.”
“It’s a terrible shower,” said the hunter; “more so than hail itself in
the devastation it causes.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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