Читать книгу Travel Scholarships - Jules Verne - Страница 11

1 The Competition

“First place, ex aequo,¹ goes to Louis Clodion and Roger Hinsdale,” proclaimed the director Julian Ardagh in a resounding voice. The two laureates were welcomed by loud cheers, multiple hurrahs, and a big round of applause.

Then, from atop the platform raised in the center of the Antillean School’s main courtyard, the director continued to read the list before him, announcing the following names:

“Second place: Axel Wickborn.”

“Third place: Albertus Leuwen.”

A new round of applause was heard, weaker than the first, but just as sympathetic.

Mr. Ardagh continued:

“Fourth place: John Howard.”

“Fifth place: Magnus Anders.”

“Sixth place: Niels Harboe.”²

“Seventh place: Hubert Perkins.”

The momentum having been set, the bravos now prolonged with the pace acquired. There remained one last name to announce to complete the nine laureates included in this very special competition.³

The director finally revealed the name to the audience:

“Eighth place: Tony Renault.”

Even though Tony Renault was the last name to be called, the bravos and the cheers were just as strong. A good classmate, as obliging as he was daring, and spontaneous by nature, he had only friends among the Antillean School’s boarders.

Upon the calling of his name, each laureate had come up to the platform to shake hands⁴ with Mr. Ardagh; then, each had regained his place among the less-fortunate classmates who celebrated them wholeheartedly.

One cannot help but notice the diversity in the names of the nine laureates, indicating their different national origins. This diversity was explained by the fact that the academic establishment that Mr. Julian Ardagh directed, at 314 Oxford Street in London, was known, and with great repute, by the name of the Antillean School.

This institution, founded fifteen years earlier, was for the sons of colonists from the Greater and Lesser Antilles—or Antilie,⁵ as it is currently known. It was here that the students came to begin, continue, or finish their studies in England. They generally stayed until their twenty-first birthday and received a very practical as well as a very complete education in all matters literary, scientific, industrial, and commercial. The Antillean School was home to about sixty boarders who paid a substantial tuition. They came out of it prepared for any career, whether they planned to remain in Europe or return to the Antilles, if their families had not left that part of the West Indies.

During the course of the academic year, it was rare not to find—in unequal⁶ numbers—Spaniards, Danish, English, French, Dutch, Swedish, even Venezuelans, all originating from the Windward and Leeward archipelago whose control was shared by both European and American powers.

Mr. Julian Ardagh, along with the help of some very distinguished teachers, directed this international school designed for young Antilleans. At fifty years old, he was a serious and cautious administrator who justly deserved the trust of his students’ families. He had a faculty of undeniable merit who worked under his direction, whether in the humanities, the sciences, or the arts. The Antillean School also did not neglect physical fitness and engaged in sports recommended and played in the United Kingdom such as cricket, boxing, water jousting,⁷ fencing, croquet, soccer, swimming, dancing, horseback-riding, cycling, rowing, and finally all the styles of modern gymnastics.

Mr. Ardagh also tried to strengthen and fuse the young men’s diverse temperaments and mixed personalities, which such different nationalities present. He tried to turn his boarders into “Antilleans” and to inspire in them a lasting friendship for each other. He was not as successful as he would have liked. Sometimes, racial⁸ instincts, more powerful than good examples and good advice, won the day. All in all, however, even if only traces of this integration remained after they left the school, it should yield results in the future, and the system of co-education was praiseworthy and a great credit to the Oxford Street establishment.

Needless to say, the boarders were fluent in the multiple languages used in the West Indies. Mr. Ardagh even had the ingenious idea to impose their use, one at a time, during classes and recreation. One week, English was spoken; the next, French was spoken; then Dutch, Spanish, Danish, and Swedish. Without a doubt, the Anglo-Saxon students were the majority at this establishment, and perhaps they tried to impose a sort of physical and moral domination.

But the other Antillean islands were represented in adequate proportion. Even the island of Saint Barthélemy, the only Scandinavian colony, claimed several students, among whom was Magnus Anders, fifth-place winner in the competition.

All in all, the task of Mr. Ardagh and his peers was not exempt from certain practical difficulties. It was necessary to have a true spirit of justice, a sure and consistent method, an apt and firm hand in order to prevent rivalries springing up among these wealthy young heirs.

In fact, concerning the competition, one might have feared that, when the laureates were announced, personal ambitions might have caused some disagreement, protests, or jealousy. In the end, the results had been satisfactory: a Frenchman and an Englishman earned first place, having received the same number of points. It is also true that, even if it were one of Queen Victoria’s subjects who came in the next-to-the-last place, it was again a citizen of the French Republic who arrived in last place, Tony Renault, of whom none of the boarders appeared to be jealous. In between, diverse natives of the English, French, Danish, Dutch, and Swedish Antilles followed in the rankings. Yet there were no winners from Venezuela or Spain, even though there were about fifteen of them at the school at that time. One may remark, as an aside, that this particular year, the students from Cuba, Santo Domingo, Puerto Rico—that is, the Greater Antilles—who numbered between twelve and fifteen at the school, were among the youngest ones and had been restricted from participating in the competition, which required them to be at least seventeen years old.

Indeed, the exam had covered not only scientific and literary subjects, but also—to no one’s surprise—questions of ethnology, geography, and commerce that dealt with the Antillean archipelago; its history, past, present, and future; and its relations with the different European states who, after the haphazard nature of the first discoveries, had later attached some of them to their colonial empires.

So then, what was the purpose of this contest? What prizes did the laureates gain? It made a series of travel scholarships available to them that would allow them to quench, for a few months, their thirst for exploration and travel, so natural in young men who had not yet celebrated their twenty-first birthdays.

So there were nine of them who, thanks to their ranking, were able to go, perhaps not around the whole globe, as the majority among them would have liked, but to some interesting region of the Old or perhaps even the New World.

And who had had the idea to fund these travel scholarships? It was a rich Antillean lady of English origin, Mrs. Kathleen⁹ Seymour, who lived in Barbados, one of the British colonies in the archipelago, and whose name had just been mentioned for the first time by Mr. Ardagh.

Imagine how this name was greeted by the audience and how strongly their shouts of appreciation resounded in the courtyard:

“Hip! … hip! … hip! … hurrah! … for Mrs. Seymour!”

Even though the director had revealed the benefactress’s name, the question still remained as to where they would travel. Neither he nor anyone else knew it yet. But in twenty-four hours this would become clear. The director would cable the results of the contest to Barbados, and Mrs. Seymour would answer him by telegram indicating the region that the laureates would be visiting.

One can easily imagine the speed with which opinions were exchanged among the students, whose thoughts flew already to the most fascinating countries, the farthest as well as the most unknown ones in this sub-lunar world. Undoubtedly, they would be effusive or reserved according to each one’s temperament or personality, but the truth is that they were all enthusiastic.

“I’d like to think,” said Roger Hinsdale, English to the tip of his toes, “that we will visit some part of the British colonial domain, and it is vast enough to be able to choose …”

“It’ll be central Africa,” remarked Louis Clodion, “the famous portentosa Africa,¹⁰ as our fine professor of economy says, and we will walk in the footsteps of the great discoverers!”

“No … an exploration of the polar regions!” said Magnus Anders, who would have gladly followed in the footsteps of his glorious compatriot Nansen.¹¹

“I hope that it be Australia,” said John Howard. “There still remains much to discover there—even after Tasman, ¹² Dampier,¹³ Burs,¹⁴ Van-couver,¹⁵ Baudin,¹⁶ Dumont d’Urville.¹⁷ there are many discoveries to be made and perhaps even some gold mines to work!”

“Rather some beautiful region of Europe,” wished Albertus Leuwen, whose Dutch character was not prone to exaggerations. “Who knows, even a simple excursion to Scotland or Ireland.”

“Come on, now!” exclaimed the exuberant Tony Renault. “I bet we’ll travel around the world.”

“Let’s see,” declared the wise Axel Wickborn, “we will only count on seven to eight weeks, so the destination will have to be restricted to neighboring countries.”

The young Dane was right. In fact, their families would not have accepted an absence of several months, which would have exposed their sons to the dangers of a more extensive expedition, and Mr. Ardagh would not have taken the responsibility.

So, after discussing Mrs. Seymour’s intentions regarding the projected excursion, there ensued another discussion about the manner in which the trip would take place.

“Will we do it by foot, as tourists backpacking with walking sticks?” asked Hubert Perkins.

“No, by car … by mail coach!” offered Niels Harboe.

“By train,” replied Albertus Leuwen, “with open tickets and under the Cook Agency’s sponsorship.”¹⁸

“I believe that it will take place rather on board a big ship, perhaps a transatlantic,” declared Magnus Anders, who saw himself already in the middle of the ocean.

“No, by air balloon,” exclaimed Tony Renault, “and on the way to the North Pole!”

The discussion continued on in this way, uselessly perhaps, full of the passion so typical of young men. Even though Roger Hinsdale and Louis Clodion showed more reserve, no one wanted to back down from his opinion.

This made the director intervene, if not to make them agree, at least to ask that they wait for the answer that the telegram he had expedited to Barbados would elicit.

“Patience!” he said. “I have sent the names of all the laureates, your ranking and your nationalities, to Mrs. Seymour, and the generous lady will make known her intentions about the travel scholarships. If she answers by cable today, in a few hours we will know what to expect. If she answers by letter, we will have to wait six or seven days. And now, off to your studies and your work!”

“Six days!” whined that rascal Tony Renault, “I’ll never make it!”

Perhaps he was expressing some of his classmates’ feelings as well—Hubert Perkins, Niels Harboe, Axel Wickborn—whose temperaments were almost as volatile as his. Louis Clodion and Roger Hinsdale, the contest’s two ex æquo, showed more poise. As far as the Swedish and the Dutch, they did not stray from their typical demeanor. But had the Antillean School had any American boarders, the prize for patience would very probably not have been given to them.

In reality, the extreme excitement of their young minds was understandable: not knowing the region of the world where Mrs. Seymour was going to send them! Furthermore, we must mention that it was only mid-June and, if the time devoted to the trip was going to fall during the vacation period, the departure would not take place for another six weeks.

Mr. Ardagh believed, as did the majority of the Antillean School, this was the most likely case. Under these conditions, the young scholars’ absence would not last more than two months. They would be back for the beginning of classes in October, which would satisfy both the families and the school’s personnel.

Consequently, given the duration of summer vacation, it could not be an expedition to very distant regions. The wisest ones thus avoided imagining travel through the steppes of Siberia, the desert of central Asia, the forests of Africa, or the grassy plains of America. Without leaving the old continent or even Europe, there were many interesting regions to visit outside of the United Kingdom: Germany, Russia, Switzerland, Austria, France, Italy, Spain, Holland, Greece! What memories to record in a tourist journal and what new impressions for those young Antilleans who were, for the most part, only children when they had crossed the Atlantic coming from America to Europe. Even reduced to the countries neighboring England, this trip would thoroughly excite their impatience and curiosity.

Since the telegram did not arrive that day nor in the days immediately following, it seemed the one sent by the director would have a letter for an answer, a letter sent from Barbados addressed to Mr. Julian Ardagh, the Antillean School, 314 Oxford Street, London, United Kingdom, Great Britain.

It is time for an explanation about the word “Antillean” that appeared over the door of the institution. No one doubts that it was created on purpose. Indeed, in the terminology of British geography, the Antilles are called Carribee Islands.¹⁹ On the maps from the United Kingdom as on those from America, they are not called anything else. But Carribee Islands means “islands of the Caribbean,” and that word recalls too vividly the fierce natives of the archipelago, scenes of massacre and cannibalism that were the scourge of the West Indies. Could one imagine that abominable title on the prospectus of the establishment: Caribbean School? Would it not make one think that students there were taught the art of killing each other or recipes for cooking humans?²⁰ Therefore, “Antillean School” had seemed more appropriate for the young men coming from the Antilles, to whom it provided a purely European education.

So, without a telegram, they had to wait for a letter—unless this contest for travel scholarships had been nothing but a bad joke. Of course not! Mrs. Seymour and Mr. Ardagh had exchanged correspondence. The generous lady was not an imaginary being at all; she lived in Barbados, she had been known there for a long time, and she was believed to be one of the richest proprietors in the island.

Now, there was nothing left to do except show a good amount of patience and watch the mail from overseas every morning and every evening. It goes without saying, it was above all the nine laureates who occupied the windows facing Oxford Street in order to spot the neighborhood’s mailman. No matter how far away his red tunic appeared—and we know that red can be seen at a great distance—those students descended the stairs four at a time, emerged into the main courtyard, ran toward the big gate, called the mailman, made him dizzy with all their questions, and stopped just short of grabbing his mail box.

No! No letters from the Antilles, none! Was it not time to send a second cable to Mrs. Seymour in order to be sure that the first one had arrived at her address, and to suggest that she telegraph her answer?

And so, inside those vivid imaginations sprung a thousand fears explaining this inexplicable delay. Had bad weather stranded the ship that carries the mail between the Antilles and England? Had it sunk following a collision? Had it crashed into some unknown reef? Had Barbados disappeared in one of those earthquakes that are so horrible in the West Indies? Had the generous lady perished in one of these cataclysms? Had France, Holland, Denmark, Sweden, or the United Kingdom just lost the most important assets of their colonial empires in the New World?

“No, no,” repeated Mr. Ardagh, “such a catastrophe would be known! All the details would have appeared in the newspapers!”

“Hey!” answered Tony Renault. “If the transatlantic ships carried pigeons, we would always know if they are on the right course!”

Very true, but such “colombogrammes” were not yet in service at that time, which the boarders of the Antillean School regretted.

Nonetheless, this state of affairs could not last long. The teachers were not succeeding in calming their troubled minds. No student worked anymore in class or in the study halls. Not only the contest laureates, but also their classmates—all the students—were thinking about everything other than their studies.

Pure exaggeration, of course. As for Mr. Ardagh, he felt no worry. Was it not perfectly natural that Mrs. Seymour had not responded by a telegram, which would not have been explicit enough? Only a letter, and a detailed letter at that, could contain the instructions they would have to follow; make known what this trip would be, under what conditions it would be carried out, at what time it would take place, how long it would last, how the expenses would be paid, and what would be the amount of the scholarships made available to the nine winners. These explanations, at the very least, demanded two or three pages and could not be formulated in that negro-grammatical language that the blacks in the Indian colonies still speak.²¹

But all these observations had no effect on them, and their concerns would not subside. And then, the students who did not earn high rankings in the competition, jealous of their classmates’ success, began to mock them, to “scoff” at them,²² to use an expression that will soon appear as an acceptable word in the dictionary of the French Academy. It had all been a big joke … There was not a penny or a farthing for those so-called travel scholarships. That Maecenas²³ in skirts whose name was Mrs. Seymour did not even exist! The contest had only been one of those “humbugs”²⁴ imported from America, that land where most of them originate!

Finally, Mr. Ardagh agreed to this plan: he would await the arrival in Liverpool of the next ship that brought the mail from the Antilles, scheduled for the twenty-third of this month. That day, if there was not a letter from Mrs. Seymour addressed to him, he would send her a second cablegram.

It was not necessary. On the twenty-third, in the afternoon mail, came a letter stamped from Barbados. This letter was in Mrs. Seymour’s handwriting and, according to the lady’s wishes—and what everyone wanted to know—the scholarships were to be used for a trip to the Antilles.