The Kip Brothers. Jules Verne

was greater than average, his eyes dark, his hair and beard chestnut, his gait elegant, his attitude composed, his countenance friendly. He made a good impression straight off, and he had only friends. On the other hand, there was no doubt but that he would become, with age, resolute and energetic. With a firmer temperament than his father, he took after his mother.

      Mr. Hawkins and Captain Gibson

      In his leisure time, Nat Gibson dabbled with great pleasure in photography,¹¹ this art that had made much progress thanks to the use of accelerating substances, which bring the snapshots to the utmost degree of perfection. His camera was always in his hand, and one can imagine how he had already made good use of it during this trip: picturesque sites, portraits of natives, photographs of all sorts.

      During his stay in Wellington, he had shot a number of views of the city and its environs. Mr. Hawkins himself took an interest in it. They were both often seen setting off, with their camera supplies strapped bandolier-style across their bodies, and returning from their excursions with new riches for their collection.

      After having presented the captain to Mr. Balfour, Mr. Hawkins returned to his office, with Mr. Gibson and his son following him. And there, at first, they talked about Hobart Town. News was not lacking, thanks to the regular service between Tasmania and New Zealand. Just the day before, a letter from Mrs. Hawkins had arrived, and the ones from Mrs. Gibson had been awaiting the arrival of the James Cook in Wellington for several days.

      The captain read his correspondence. Everything was fine at home. The women were in good health. It is true, the absence seemed long to them, and it was their hope that it would not be prolonged. But the voyage should soon be drawing to a close.

      “Yes,” said Mr. Hawkins, “five or six weeks more and we’ll be back in Hobart Town.”

      “Dear mother,” Nat Gibson exclaimed, “how happy she will be to see us again, just as much as we were, Father, in embracing you!”

      “And that I was, myself, my son!”

      “My friend,” said Mr. Hawkins, “I have every reason to believe that the voyage of the James Cook will be of short length.”

      “That’s what I think too, Hawkins.”

      “Even at average speed,” replied the shipowner, “the voyage from New Zealand to New Ireland¹² is fairly short.”

      “In this season especially,” answered the captain. “The sea is calm all the way to the equator, and the winds are steady. I think as you do that we’ll have no delays to put up with if our stopover in Port Praslin¹³ doesn’t have to be prolonged.”

      “That won’t be the case, Gibson. I’ve received a letter from our correspondent, Mr. Zieger, that is very reassuring on this subject. In the archipelago, there is a large stock of merchandise of mother of pearl and copra, and loading the brig can be done without difficulty.”

      “Is Mr. Zieger ready to take delivery of our merchandise?” asked the captain.

      “Yes, my friend, and I repeat, I have been assured that there will be no delay on his end.”

      “Don’t forget, Hawkins, that after Port Praslin, we’ll have to go to Kerawara.”¹⁴

      “That will be only a day, Gibson.”

      “Well, Father, let’s be clear on the length of the voyage. How many days will our stopover at Port Praslin and Kerawara be?”

      “About three weeks in all.”

      “And from Wellington to Port Praslin?”

      “About the same.”

      “And the return to Tasmania?”

      “About a month.”

      “So in two months and a half, it’s possible that the James Cook will be back in Hobart Town.”

      “Yes. Rather less time than more.”

      “Good,” Nat Gibson replied. “I’m going to write to my mother this very day, because the courier to Australia raises anchor the day after tomorrow. I will ask her for two and a half months of patience. That’s how much Mrs. Hawkins will have to have too, isn’t that right, Mr. Hawkins?”

      “Yes, indeed, my young man.”

      “And at the beginning of the year, the two families will be reunited.”

      “Two families will be as one!” replied Mr. Hawkins.

      The shipowner and the captain shook hands affectionately.

      “My dear Gibson,” Mr. Hawkins then said. “We’ll have dinner here with Mr. Balfour.”

      “Of course, Hawkins.”

      “Do you have business to take care of downtown?”

      “No,” replied the captain, “but I must return on board.”

      “Fine, then on to the James Cook!” exclaimed Nat Gibson. “It will give me great pleasure to see our brig again before bringing up our bags.”

      “Oh!” replied Mr. Hawkins. “It’s surely going to stay a few days in Wellington?”

      “Twenty-four hours at most,” replied the captain. “I have no breakdowns to fix, no cargo to take off or bring on … Some provisions to renew, for sure, and an afternoon will suffice for that. I’ll give orders to Balt to take care of this.”

      “Are you still happy with your bosun?” asked Mr. Hawkins.

      “Still am,” Captain Gibson replied. “He’s a zealous man who knows his job.”

      “And the crew?”

      “Veteran sailors, nothing to fault them for.”

      “What about those you picked up in Dunedin?”

      “They don’t inspire much confidence, but I couldn’t find any better.”

      “So the James Cook is leaving?”

      “As of tomorrow, if we don’t have any incidents like at Dunedin. Nowadays it’s not too good for captains of commerce to make port in New Zealand.”

      “You’re talking about desertions that diminish the crews?” asked Mr. Hawkins.

      Mr. Gibson replied, “More than diminish; out of eight sailors, I have lost four and haven’t heard a word from them.”

      “Well, you’re right, Gibson, be careful that the situation doesn’t get to be in Wellington what it was in Dunedin.”

      “So I have taken the precaution of not allowing anyone to disembark under any pretext, even Koa the cook.”

      “That’s wise, father,” added Nat Gibson. “There are a half-dozen ships in port that cannot set sail for lack of sailors.”

      “That doesn’t surprise me,” replied Harry Gibson. “So I’m counting on raising sail as soon as we have brought on the provisions, and surely by dawn we’ll have weighed anchor and already be on our way.”

      At the very moment when the captain pronounced the name of the bosun, Mr. Hawkins had been unable to keep from making a rather pointed observation.

      “If I spoke to you about Flig Balt,” he continued, “it’s because he didn’t make a very favorable impression on me when we hired him on at Hobart Town.”

      “Yes, I know,” replied the captain, “but your misgivings are not warranted. He carries out his duties with zeal, the men know they have to follow him, and, I’ll say it again, his service aboard ship has left nothing to be desired.”

      “So much the better, Gibson. I prefer to have made a mistake about him, and so long as he inspires confidence in you …”