Verne The Green Ray

1. Auflage 2014
ISBN: 978-3-8496-4586-1
Verlag: Jazzybee Verlag
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 6 - ePub Watermark

E-Book, Englisch, 188 Seiten

'The Green Ray' is in Jules Verne's best manner: it contains some of the impossibilites raisonnets which are at once his distinguishing characteristic and the secret of his world wide popularity. Most of the marvels or impossibilities in 'The Green Ray ' are to be found in the picture there presented to us of Scottish names, manners and costumes. It will hardly be denied that such a Scotch family name as 'Ursiclos,' and such clans as the clan 'McDouglas' and ' the clan 'Melville,' are sufficiently impossible ; nor can it be counted as anything less than a marvel for a lowland gentleman's butler to wait at dinner and perform all his other duties clad in the 'garb of old Gaul!' But these and innumerable errors of the same kind are all due, apparently, to a fixed idea on the part of M. Verne that all Scotchmen are Highlanders. The story is a perfect setting for the admirable descriptions of Scotch scenery which are the best feature in the book. The illustrations, too, are unusually good, and, together with the beautiful type and delicately toned paper, greatly enhance the charms of the little volume.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Verne, Jules

Weitere Mitwirkende

Bennett, Leon

Leseproben

Chapter XI

OLIVER SINCLAIR

Oliver Sinclair was a “bonnie lad,” to make use of a Scotch expression, in speaking of a gallant, sprightly youth. The last scion of a good Edinburgh family, this young Athenian of the Athens of the north was the son of an old councillor in this capital. Early left an orphan, he had been brought up by an uncle, one of the four baillies of the municipal administration, had made good use of his time at the University, and at the age of twenty, being possessor of a small independent fortune, and wishing to see something of the world, he visited the principal states of Europe, India, and America; the celebrated Edinburgh Review now and again published notes of his travels. Being an accomplished artist, he might have sold his pictures at a high price, had he liked. He was also a poet, when the whim took him, and who is not, at an age when all existence smiles upon one?—warm-hearted, and of an artistic nature, he was made to please, and this he did without effort or affectation on his part.

It would have been an easy matter for him to have found a wife in Edinburgh, where an accomplished, amiable, well-bred young man, with a handsome person, could not fail to find more than one heiress to his liking.

And yet Oliver Sinclair, at the age of twenty-six, did not appear to have felt any inclination to change his state. Was it that the path of life seemed too narrow for two to walk together? Not so; but likely enough he thought himself better able, as a single man, to indulge his tastes for art and travel.

Nevertheless, Oliver Sinclair might well have inspired any fair daughter of Scotland with more than ordinary liking. His elegant figure, his frank countenance, his manly yet gentle bearing and cheerful manners, made him altogether a fascinating character; but being no coxcomb, this fact had never occurred to him, or else he had never felt inclined to matrimony. Moreover, if he were calculated to inspire admiration among the ladies of Edinburgh, he was none the less liked by his friends at the University, and was one of those who, according to the old saying, never turned his back on friend or foe.

And yet, to-day, it must be admitted that he was turning his back upon Miss Campbell, who, it is true, was neither friend nor foe. In that position he had been unable to see the ball, which the young girl had so vigorously discharged; hence the disastrous effect on his canvas, and the overthrow of all his apparatus.

At the first glance, Miss Campbell had recognized her hero of the Coryvrechan; but the hero did not in the least recognize the young passenger of the Glengary. It was scarcely likely that during the journey from Scarba to Oban, he had even seen Miss Campbell on board. Most certainly had he known the part she had personally taken in his rescue, were it only out of politeness, he would have thanked her; but he was as yet unaware of that fact, and probably would always remain so.

Indeed, that very day, Miss Campbell forbade, yes, positively forbade, her uncles as well as Dame Bess and Partridge, to make any allusion, before this young man, to what had taken place on board the Glengary before the rescue.

Meanwhile, after the accident, the brothers had rejoined their niece, more vexed if possible than she, and they began to offer the young artist their personal apologies, when he interrupted them, saying,—

“Gentlemen, I beg you—it is really not worth mentioning!”

“But sir,” persisted Sib, “we are deeply grieved.”

“And if the disaster is irreparable, as we fear it is—” added Sam.

“It is a mere trifle,” replied the young man, smiling. “A daub, nothing more, to which this avenging ball did fit justice!”

Oliver Sinclair said this with so much good-humour that the brothers would willingly have shaken hands with him without further ceremony; at any rate they thought it only polite to introduce themselves.

“Mr. Samuel Melville,” said one.

“Mr. Sebastian Melville,” said the other.

“And their niece, Miss Campbell,” added Helena, who considered it no breach of etiquette to introduce herself.

This was an invitation to the young man to state his name.

“Miss Campbell, and gentlemen,” said he, as seriously as possible, “I may tell you that I call myself ‘post,’ after one of your croquet-sticks, since I have been a mark for your ball; but my name is really Oliver Sinclair.”

“Mr. Sinclair,” replied Miss Campbell, who hardly knew how to take this answer, “please accept my apologies.”

“And ours too,” added the brothers.

“I assure you, Miss Campbell,” replied Oliver Sinclair, “it is not worth mentioning. I was trying to get an effect of the foam on the waves, and it is probable that your ball, like the sponge of—I forget what painter of antiquity, thrown across his picture, will have produced the effect which my brush was trying in vain to render.”

This was said so amiably that Miss Campbell and her uncles could hardly help smiling.

But as to the canvas which Oliver Sinclair picked up, it was quite spoilt, and the work must be begun afresh.

We may as well observe that Aristobulus did not trouble himself to add his apologies.

The game over, the young savant, highly annoyed at being unable to make his practical ability accord with his theoretical knowledge, had returned to his hotel.

They would probably not see him for two or three days, as he was going to Luing Island, one of the smallest of the Hebrides, situated to the south of the isle of Seil, and the rich slate quarries of which he wanted to study from a geological point of view.

Thus their conversation was carried on without any interruption in the way of explanatory remarks, which he would have been sure to make, on the tension of trajectories or other questions relative to the accident.

Oliver Sinclair soon found that he was not altogether unknown to the visitors of the Caledonian Hotel, and he then learnt that they were acquainted with the incidents of the passage.

“What!” exclaimed he, “were you really on board the Glengary, which fished me up so luckily?”

“Yes, Mr. Sinclair.”

“And you frightened us nicely,” added Sib, “when, by the greatest chance, we saw your boat among the breakers of the Coryvrechan.”

“A most providential chance,” added Sam; “and probably had it not been for the interposition of—”

Here Miss Campbell made her uncle understand by a sign that she did not intend to pose as a deliverer, nor would she accept that role at any price.

“But, Mr. Sinclair,” continued Sam, “how could the old seaman, who was with you, have been imprudent enough to venture so near the gulf—”

“The danger of which he must well have known, since he belonged to this part of the country?” added Sib.

“You must not blame him, gentlemen,” replied Oliver Sinclair; “it was entirely my imprudence, mine alone, and at one time I thought I should have to reproach myself with being the cause of the honest fellow’s death! But there were such wondrous colours on the surface of the eddies where the sea looked like an immense piece of guipure lace thrown over blue silk, that, without giving another thought as to probable danger, I set out in search of some new shade of colour in the midst of these waters, impregnated with light, and so I went on, and on! The old fisherman, knowing the danger, remonstrated with me, and wanted to turn back towards Jura, but I scarcely listened to him; and at last our boat was caught by the tide, and irresistibly drawn towards the gulf. We made every effort to clear ourselves. A heavy sea disabled my companion, and left him powerless to help me, and certainly, had it not been for the timely arrival of the Glengary, the skill of her captain, and humanity of the passengers, the fisherman and I would soon have passed into the legendary state, and would be included in the obituary of the Coryvrechan!”

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