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LONDON, UK, December 22nd, 2023/Chainwire/--Revolutionary Web3 Platform Prepares to Award $1 Million USDC Prize. , the premier web3 competition platform leveraging blockchain technology, is counting down the last 6 hours in its record-breaking prize draw, where one lucky player will win a life-changing $1 Million USDC! MetaWin MetaWin Millionaire $1 Million Grand Prize Draws In Less than 6 Hours With the competition ending today, December 22nd at 21:00 GMT, there is still time to secure a free entry into the $1 Million USDC sweepstakes before registration closes. The $1 Million USDC prize is already staked in a smart contract on-chain, and will be instantly transferred to the randomly selected wallet, making one lucky participant an instant millionaire. Crypto Twitter Abuzz With Anticipation Interest in the competition is reaching fever pitch with multiple influential accounts entering the draw, with Pranksy, dannycrypt, sibel and noteezzy all showing off their entries. But even with the excitement mounting, there are currently just over 5000 registered entries, which still offers attractive odds for new participants. Just Released: More Than 50+ Eth In Free-to-Play NFT’s To celebrate the momentous countdown to the World’s biggest crypto prize, Metawin has just announced the release of in NFT’s in free-to-enter competitions. The competitions range in value from smaller, but high-quality projects, to more established blue chips such as Killabears, Miladys, Otherdeeds and more. 50+ ETH worth Entries are capped to ensure equal chances of winning, and just require a small gas fee to register the entry on the Ethereum blockchain. With new NFT prizes hitting the site every 30 minutes, participants can join in the excitement throughout the next 6 hours until the draw of the $1 Million USDC main prize. MetaWin's Exciting Journey: Anticipating the $1 Million USDC Winner With the countdown clock ticking down the final hours, MetaWin invites all potential participants to seize the moment and claim their chance at the $ 1 Million USDC prize. Users can claim their free entry via this link: - Opportunity for Users to Win $1 Million USDC Free Entry Available extends its best wishes to all entrants and looks forward to announcing the fortunate victor. MetaWin About MetaWin stands at the forefront of on-chain competition platforms, revolutionizing the landscape of digital contests. Through harnessing the power of blockchain technology, MetaWin delivers a competition experience characterized by transparency, fairness, and excitement. MetaWin With a track record of substantial giveaways and an unwavering commitment to innovation, MetaWin is shaping the future of online competitions. Contact MR MetaWin PR MetaWin press@metawin.inc This story was distributed as a release by Chainwire under HackerNoon’s Business Blogging Program. Learn more about the program . here

Clock Ticking: 6 Hours Left In MetaWin's Thrilling $1 Million USDC Prize Race

ঘড়ির টিক টিক বাজানো: মেটাউইনের রোমাঞ্চকর $1 মিলিয়ন ইউএসডিসি প্রাইজ রেসে 6 ঘন্টা বাকি

Die Uhr tickt: Noch 6 Stunden im spannenden USDC-Preisrennen von MetaWin im Wert von 1 Million US-Dollar

El reloj corre: quedan 6 horas en la emocionante carrera de premios de $ 1 millón de USDC de MetaWin

Le temps presse : il reste 6 heures dans la passionnante course aux prix USDC d'un million de dollars de MetaWin

घड़ी की टिक-टिक: मेटाविन की रोमांचक $1 मिलियन यूएसडीसी पुरस्कार दौड़ में 6 घंटे शेष हैं

時計の針が刻々と過ぎていく: MetaWin のスリル満点の 100 万ドル USDC 賞金レースは残り 6 時間

똑딱거리는 시간: MetaWin의 스릴 넘치는 100만 달러 USDC 상금 경주가 6시간 남았습니다.

O relógio está passando: faltam 6 horas para a emocionante corrida de prêmios de US$ 1 milhão em USDC da MetaWin

Часы тикают: осталось 6 часов до захватывающей призовой гонки MetaWin на 1 миллион долларов США

Saat İşliyor: MetaWin'in Heyecan Verici 1 Milyon Dolarlık USDC Ödül Yarışında 6 Saat Kaldı

Đồng hồ tích tắc: Còn 6 giờ trong cuộc đua giải thưởng hấp dẫn trị giá 1 triệu USDC của MetaWin

时钟滴答作响：MetaWin 激动人心的 100 万美元 USDC 奖金竞赛还剩 6 小时

Scientific American, Volume XXXVI., No. 8, February 24, 1877 by Various, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . A Clock Collector. here A Clock Collector. One of those odd geniuses, who spend their lives and means in collecting curious and rare articles, lately died. His name was Sylvester Bonaffon, a retired merchant of Philadelphia. His elaborate collections were sold at auction, and their oddity has attracted general attention. His chief mania was for clocks, which literally covered every portion of available space in his apartments, whether they were placed on chairs, tables, shelves, or hung against the wall. Some of these timepieces were of unique construction. One clock was made to run for 400 days after one winding; another was set in the dashboard of his carriage, and he used Mr. Bonaffon also had an especial fondness for electrical apparatus. His windows were provided with ingenious burglar alarms, his rooms with fire alarms, and he ignited his gas always by electricity. His place of business, his stable, the Continental Hotel where he dined, were all connected with instruments in his room; and he even had perfected arrangements so that he could set at home and send his own messages to California. Besides the clocks and electric apparatus, there was an immense collection of of every conceivable variety, which was sold at the auction—as is usually the case—at prices much below those paid by its late owner. bric-a-brac About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Various (2006). Scientific American, Volume XXXVI., No. 8, February 24, 1877. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/19406/pg19406-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

A Clock Collector

AN ELECTRIC ALARM CLOCK.

Five Weeks in a Balloon by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Chapter XXXIV here CHAPTER THIRTY-FOURTH. The Hurricane.—A Forced Departure.—Loss of an Anchor.—Melancholy Reflections.—The Resolution adopted.—The Sand-Storm.—The Buried Caravan.—A Contrary yet Favorable Wind.—The Return southward.—Kennedy at his Post. At three o’clock in the morning the wind was raging. It beat down with such violence that the could not stay near the ground without danger. It was thrown almost flat over upon its side, and the reeds chafed the silk so roughly that it seemed as though they would tear it. Victoria “We must be off, Dick,” said the doctor; “we cannot remain in this situation.” “But, doctor, what of Joe?” “I am not likely to abandon him. No, indeed! and should the hurricane carry me a thousand miles to the northward, I will return! But here we are endangering the safety of all.” “Must we go without him?” asked the Scot, with an accent of profound grief. “And do you think, then,” rejoined Ferguson, “that my heart does not bleed like your own? Am I not merely obeying an imperious necessity?” “I am entirely at your orders,” replied the hunter; “let us start!” But their departure was surrounded with unusual difficulty. The anchor, which had caught very deeply, resisted all their efforts to disengage it; while the balloon, drawing in the opposite direction, increased its tension. Kennedy could not get it free. Besides, in his present position, the manœuvre had become a very perilous one, for the threatened to break away before he should be able to get into the car again. Victoria The doctor, unwilling to run such a risk, made his friend get into his place, and resigned himself to the alternative of cutting the anchor-rope. The made one bound of three hundred feet into the air, and took her route directly northward. Victoria Ferguson had no other choice than to scud before the storm. He folded his arms, and soon became absorbed in his own melancholy reflections. After a few moments of profound silence, he turned to Kennedy, who sat there no less taciturn. “We have, perhaps, been tempting Providence,” said he; “it does not belong to man to undertake such a journey!”—and a sigh of grief escaped him as he spoke. “It is but a few days,” replied the sportsman, “since we were congratulating ourselves upon having escaped so many dangers! All three of us were shaking hands!” “Poor Joe! kindly and excellent disposition! brave and candid heart! Dazzled for a moment by his sudden discovery of wealth, he willingly sacrificed his treasures! And now, he is far from us; and the wind is carrying us still farther away with resistless speed!” “Come, doctor, admitting that he may have found refuge among the lake tribes, can he not do as the travellers who visited them before us, did;—like Denham, like Barth? Both of those men got back to their own country.” “Ah! my dear Dick! Joe doesn’t know one word of the language; he is alone, and without resources. The travellers of whom you speak did not attempt to go forward without sending many presents in advance of them to the chiefs, and surrounded by an escort armed and trained for these expeditions. Yet, they could not avoid sufferings of the worst description! What, then, can you expect the fate of our companion to be? It is horrible to think of, and this is one of the worst calamities that it has ever been my lot to endure!” “But, we’ll come back again, doctor!” “Come back, Dick? Yes, if we have to abandon the balloon! if we should be forced to return to Lake Tchad on foot, and put ourselves in communication with the Sultan of Bornou! The Arabs cannot have retained a disagreeable remembrance of the first Europeans.” “I will follow you, doctor,” replied the hunter, with emphasis. “You may count upon me! We would rather give up the idea of prosecuting this journey than not return. Joe forgot himself for our sake; we will sacrifice ourselves for his!” This resolve revived some hope in the hearts of these two men; they felt strong in the same inspiration. Ferguson forthwith set every thing at work to get into a contrary current, that might bring him back again to Lake Tchad; but this was impracticable at that moment, and even to alight was out of the question on ground completely bare of trees, and with such a hurricane blowing. The thus passed over the country of the Tibbous, crossed the Belad el Djerid, a desert of briers that forms the border of the Soudan, and advanced into the desert of sand streaked with the long tracks of the many caravans that pass and repass there. The last line of vegetation was speedily lost in the dim southern horizon, not far from the principal oasis in this part of Africa, whose fifty wells are shaded by magnificent trees; but it was impossible to stop. An Arab encampment, tents of striped stuff, some camels, stretching out their viper-like heads and necks along the sand, gave life to this solitude, but the sped by like a shooting-star, and in this way traversed a distance of sixty miles in three hours, without Ferguson being able to check or guide her course. Victoria Victoria “We cannot halt, we cannot alight!” said the doctor; “not a tree, not an inequality of the ground! Are we then to be driven clear across Sahara? Surely, Heaven is indeed against us!” He was uttering these words with a sort of despairing rage, when suddenly he saw the desert sands rising aloft in the midst of a dense cloud of dust, and go whirling through the air, impelled by opposing currents. Amid this tornado, an entire caravan, disorganized, broken, and overthrown, was disappearing beneath an avalanche of sand. The camels, flung pell-mell together, were uttering dull and pitiful groans; cries and howls of despair were heard issuing from that dusty and stifling cloud, and, from time to time, a parti-colored garment cut the chaos of the scene with its vivid hues, and the moaning and shrieking sounded over all, a terrible accompaniment to this spectacle of destruction. Ere long the sand had accumulated in compact masses; and there, where so recently stretched a level plain as far as the eye could see, rose now a ridgy line of hillocks, still moving from beneath—the vast tomb of an entire caravan! The doctor and Kennedy, pallid with emotion, sat transfixed by this fearful spectacle. They could no longer manage their balloon, which went whirling round and round in contending currents, and refused to obey the different dilations of the gas. Caught in these eddies of the atmosphere, it spun about with a rapidity that made their heads reel, while the car oscillated and swung to and fro violently at the same time. The instruments suspended under the awning clattered together as though they would be dashed to pieces; the pipes of the spiral bent to and fro, threatening to break at every instant; and the water-tanks jostled and jarred with tremendous din. Although but two feet apart, our aëronauts could not hear each other speak, but with firmly-clinched hands they clung convulsively to the cordage, and endeavored to steady themselves against the fury of the tempest. Kennedy, with his hair blown wildly about his face, looked on without speaking; but the doctor had regained all his daring in the midst of this deadly peril, and not a sign of his emotion was betrayed in his countenance, even when, after a last violent twirl, the stopped suddenly in the midst of a most unlooked-for calm; the north wind had abruptly got the upper hand, and now drove her back with equal rapidity over the route she had traversed in the morning. Victoria “Whither are we going now?” cried Kennedy. “Let us leave that to Providence, my dear Dick; I was wrong in doubting it. It knows better than we, and here we are, returning to places that we had expected never to see again!” The surface of the country, which had looked so flat and level when they were coming, now seemed tossed and uneven, like the ocean-billows after a storm; a long succession of hillocks, that had scarcely settled to their places yet, indented the desert; the wind blew furiously, and the balloon fairly flew through the atmosphere. The direction taken by our aëronauts differed somewhat from that of the morning, and thus about nine o’clock, instead of finding themselves again near the borders of Lake Tchad, they saw the desert still stretching away before them. Kennedy remarked the circumstance. “It matters little,” replied the doctor, “the important point is to return southward; we shall come across the towns of Bornou, Wouddie, or Kouka, and I should not hesitate to halt there.” “If you are satisfied, I am content,” replied the Scot, “but Heaven grant that we may not be reduced to cross the desert, as those unfortunate Arabs had to do! What we saw was frightful!” “It often happens, Dick; these trips across the desert are far more perilous than those across the ocean. The desert has all the dangers of the sea, including the risk of being swallowed up, and added thereto are unendurable fatigues and privations.” “I think the wind shows some symptoms of moderating; the sand-dust is less dense; the undulations of the surface are diminishing, and the sky is growing clearer.” “So much the better! We must now reconnoitre attentively with our glasses, and take care not to omit a single point.” “I will look out for that, doctor, and not a tree shall be seen without my informing you of it.” And, suiting the action to the word, Kennedy took his station, spy-glass in hand, at the forward part of the car. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (2002). Five Weeks in a Balloon. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/3526/pg3526-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

At three o’clock in the morning the wind was raging

Five Weeks in a Balloon by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Chapter XVIII here CHAPTER EIGHTEENTH. The Karagwah.—Lake Ukéréoué.—A Night on an Island.—The Equator.—Crossing the Lake.—The Cascades.—A View of the Country.—The Sources of the Nile.—The Island of Benga.—The Signature of Andrea Debono.—The Flag with the Arms of England. At five o’clock in the morning, preparations for departure commenced. Joe, with the hatchet which he had fortunately recovered, broke the elephant’s tusks. The balloon, restored to liberty, sped away to the northwest with our travellers, at the rate of eighteen miles per hour. The doctor had carefully taken his position by the altitude of the stars, during the preceding night. He knew that he was in latitude two degrees forty minutes below the equator, or at a distance of one hundred and sixty geographical miles. He swept along over many villages without heeding the cries that the appearance of the balloon excited; he took note of the conformation of places with quick sights; he passed the slopes of the Rubemhe, which are nearly as abrupt as the summits of the Ousagara, and, farther on, at Tenga, encountered the first projections of the Karagwah chains, which, in his opinion, are direct spurs of the Mountains of the Moon. So, the ancient legend which made these mountains the cradle of the Nile, came near to the truth, since they really border upon Lake Ukéréoué, the conjectured reservoir of the waters of the great river. From Kafuro, the main district of the merchants of that country, he descried, at length, on the horizon, the lake so much desired and so long sought for, of which Captain Speke caught a glimpse on the 3d of August, 1858. Samuel Ferguson felt real emotion: he was almost in contact with one of the principal points of his expedition, and, with his spy-glass constantly raised, he kept every nook and corner of the mysterious region in sight. His gaze wandered over details that might have been thus described: “Beneath him extended a country generally destitute of cultivation; only here and there some ravines seemed under tillage; the surface, dotted with peaks of medium height, grew flat as it approached the lake; barley-fields took the place of rice-plantations, and there, too, could be seen growing the species of plantain from which the wine of the country is drawn, and , the wild plant which supplies a substitute for coffee. A collection of some fifty or more circular huts, covered with a flowering thatch, constituted the capital of the Karagwah country.” mwani He could easily distinguish the astonished countenances of a rather fine-looking race of natives of yellowish-brown complexion. Women of incredible corpulence were dawdling about through the cultivated grounds, and the doctor greatly surprised his companions by informing them that this rotundity, which is highly esteemed in that region, was obtained by an obligatory diet of curdled milk. At noon, the was in one degree forty-five minutes south latitude, and at one o’clock the wind was driving her directly toward the lake. Victoria This sheet of water was christened , or Victoria Lake, by Captain Speke. At the place now mentioned it might measure about ninety miles in breadth, and at its southern extremity the captain found a group of islets, which he named the Archipelago of Bengal. He pushed his survey as far as Muanza, on the eastern coast, where he was received by the sultan. He made a triangulation of this part of the lake, but he could not procure a boat, either to cross it or to visit the great island of Ukéréoué which is very populous, is governed by three sultans, and appears to be only a promontory at low tide. Uyanza Victoria The balloon approached the lake more to the northward, to the doctor’s great regret, for it had been his wish to determine its lower outlines. Its shores seemed to be thickly set with brambles and thorny plants, growing together in wild confusion, and were literally hidden, sometimes, from the gaze, by myriads of mosquitoes of a light-brown hue. The country was evidently habitable and inhabited. Troops of hippopotami could be seen disporting themselves in the forests of reeds, or plunging beneath the whitish waters of the lake. The latter, seen from above, presented, toward the west, so broad an horizon that it might have been called a sea; the distance between the two shores is so great that communication cannot be established, and storms are frequent and violent, for the winds sweep with fury over this elevated and unsheltered basin. The doctor experienced some difficulty in guiding his course; he was afraid of being carried toward the east, but, fortunately, a current bore him directly toward the north, and at six o’clock in the evening the balloon alighted on a small desert island in thirty minutes south latitude, and thirty-two degrees fifty-two minutes east longitude, about twenty miles from the shore. The travellers succeeded in making fast to a tree, and, the wind having fallen calm toward evening, they remained quietly at anchor. They dared not dream of taking the ground, since here, as on the shores of the Uyanza, legions of mosquitoes covered the soil in dense clouds. Joe even came back, from securing the anchor in the tree, speckled with bites, but he kept his temper, because he found it quite the natural thing for mosquitoes to treat him as they had done. Nevertheless, the doctor, who was less of an optimist, let out as much rope as he could, so as to escape these pitiless insects, that began to rise toward him with a threatening hum. The doctor ascertained the height of the lake above the level of the sea, as it had been determined by Captain Speke, say three thousand seven hundred and fifty feet. “Here we are, then, on an island!” said Joe, scratching as though he’d tear his nails out. “We could make the tour of it in a jiffy,” added Kennedy, “and, excepting these confounded mosquitoes, there’s not a living being to be seen on it.” “The islands with which the lake is dotted,” replied the doctor, “are nothing, after all, but the tops of submerged hills; but we are lucky to have found a retreat among them, for the shores of the lake are inhabited by ferocious tribes. Take your sleep, then, since Providence has granted us a tranquil night.” “Won’t you do the same, doctor?” “No, I could not close my eyes. My thoughts would banish sleep. To-morrow, my friends, should the wind prove favorable, we shall go due north, and we shall, perhaps, discover the sources of the Nile, that grand secret which has so long remained impenetrable. Near as we are to the sources of the renowned river, I could not sleep.” Kennedy and Joe, whom scientific speculations failed to disturb to that extent, were not long in falling into sound slumber, while the doctor held his post. On Wednesday, April 23d, the balloon started at four o’clock in the morning, with a grayish sky overhead; night was slow in quitting the surface of the lake, which was enveloped in a dense fog, but presently a violent breeze scattered all the mists, and, after the balloon had been swung to and fro for a moment, in opposite directions, it at length veered in a straight line toward the north. Dr. Ferguson fairly clapped his hands for joy. “We are on the right track!” he exclaimed. “To-day or never we shall see the Nile! Look, my friends, we are crossing the equator! We are entering our own hemisphere!” “Ah!” said Joe, “do you think, doctor, that the equator passes here?” “Just here, my boy!” “Well, then, with all respect to you, sir, it seems to me that this is the very time to moisten it.” “Good!” said the doctor, laughing. “Let us have a glass of punch. You have a way of comprehending cosmography that is any thing but dull.” And thus was the passage of the over the equator duly celebrated. Victoria The balloon made rapid headway. In the west could be seen a low and but slightly-diversified coast, and, farther away in the background, the elevated plains of the Uganda and the Usoga. At length, the rapidity of the wind became excessive, approaching thirty miles per hour. The waters of the Nyanza, violently agitated, were foaming like the billows of a sea. By the appearance of certain long swells that followed the sinking of the waves, the doctor was enabled to conclude that the lake must have great depth of water. Only one or two rude boats were seen during this rapid passage. “This lake is evidently, from its elevated position, the natural reservoir of the rivers in the eastern part of Africa, and the sky gives back to it in rain what it takes in vapor from the streams that flow out of it. I am certain that the Nile must here take its rise.” “Well, we shall see!” said Kennedy. About nine o’clock they drew nearer to the western coast. It seemed deserted, and covered with woods; the wind freshened a little toward the east, and the other shore of the lake could be seen. It bent around in such a curve as to end in a wide angle toward two degrees forty minutes north latitude. Lofty mountains uplifted their arid peaks at this extremity of Nyanza; but, between them, a deep and winding gorge gave exit to a turbulent and foaming river. While busy managing the balloon, Dr. Ferguson never ceased reconnoitring the country with eager eyes. “Look!” he exclaimed, “look, my friends! the statements of the Arabs were correct! They spoke of a river by which Lake Ukéréoué discharged its waters toward the north, and this river exists, and we are descending it, and it flows with a speed analogous to our own! And this drop of water now gliding away beneath our feet is, beyond all question, rushing on, to mingle with the Mediterranean! It is the Nile!” “It is the Nile!” reëchoed Kennedy, carried away by the enthusiasm of his friend. “Hurrah for the Nile!” shouted Joe, glad, and always ready to cheer for something. Enormous rocks, here and there, embarrassed the course of this mysterious river. The water foamed as it fell in rapids and cataracts, which confirmed the doctor in his preconceived ideas on the subject. From the environing mountains numerous torrents came plunging and seething down, and the eye could take them in by hundreds. There could be seen, starting from the soil, delicate jets of water scattering in all directions, crossing and recrossing each other, mingling, contending in the swiftness of their progress, and all rushing toward that nascent stream which became a river after having drunk them in. “Here is, indeed, the Nile!” reiterated the doctor, with the tone of profound conviction. “The origin of its name, like the origin of its waters, has fired the imagination of the learned; they have sought to trace it from the Greek, the Coptic, the Sanscrit; but all that matters little now, since we have made it surrender the secret of its source!” “But,” said the Scotchman, “how are you to make sure of the identity of this river with the one recognized by the travellers from the north?” “We shall have certain, irrefutable, convincing, and infallible proof,” replied Ferguson, “should the wind hold another hour in our favor!” The mountains drew farther apart, revealing in their place numerous villages, and fields of white Indian corn, doura, and sugar-cane. The tribes inhabiting the region seemed excited and hostile; they manifested more anger than adoration, and evidently saw in the aëronauts only obtrusive strangers, and not condescending deities. It appeared as though, in approaching the sources of the Nile, these men came to rob them of something, and so the had to keep out of range of their muskets. Victoria “To land here would be a ticklish matter!” said the Scot. “Well!” said Joe, “so much the worse for these natives. They’ll have to do without the pleasure of our conversation.” “Nevertheless, descend I must,” said the doctor, “were it only for a quarter of an hour. Without doing so I cannot verify the results of our expedition.” “It is indispensable, then, doctor?” “Indispensable; and we will descend, even if we have to do so with a volley of musketry.” “The thing suits me,” said Kennedy, toying with his pet rifle. “And I’m ready, master, whenever you say the word!” added Joe, preparing for the fight. “It would not be the first time,” remarked the doctor, “that science has been followed up, sword in hand. The same thing happened to a French among the mountains of Spain, when he was measuring the terrestrial meridian.” savant “Be easy on that score, doctor, and trust to your two body-guards.” “Are we there, master?” “Not yet. In fact, I shall go up a little, first, in order to get an exact idea of the configuration of the country.” The hydrogen expanded, and in less than ten minutes the balloon was soaring at a height of twenty-five hundred feet above the ground. From that elevation could be distinguished an inextricable network of smaller streams which the river received into its bosom; others came from the west, from between numerous hills, in the midst of fertile plains. “We are not ninety miles from Gondokoro,” said the doctor, measuring off the distance on his map, “and less than five miles from the point reached by the explorers from the north. Let us descend with great care.” And, upon this, the balloon was lowered about two thousand feet. “Now, my friends, let us be ready, come what may.” “Ready it is!” said Dick and Joe, with one voice. “Good!” In a few moments the balloon was advancing along the bed of the river, and scarcely one hundred feet above the ground. The Nile measured but fifty fathoms in width at this point, and the natives were in great excitement, rushing to and fro, tumultuously, in the villages that lined the banks of the stream. At the second degree it forms a perpendicular cascade of ten feet in height, and consequently impassable by boats. “Here, then, is the cascade mentioned by Debono!” exclaimed the doctor. The basin of the river spread out, dotted with numerous islands, which Dr. Ferguson devoured with his eyes. He seemed to be seeking for a point of reference which he had not yet found. By this time, some blacks, having ventured in a boat just under the balloon, Kennedy saluted them with a shot from his rifle, that made them regain the bank at their utmost speed. “A good journey to you,” bawled Joe, “and if I were in your place, I wouldn’t try coming back again. I should be mightily afraid of a monster that can hurl thunderbolts when he pleases.” But, all at once, the doctor snatched up his spy-glass, and directed it toward an island reposing in the middle of the river. “Four trees!” he exclaimed; “look, down there!” Sure enough, there were four trees standing alone at one end of it. “It is Bengal Island! It is the very same,” repeated the doctor, exultingly. “And what of that?” asked Dick. “It is there that we shall alight, if God permits.” “But, it seems to be inhabited, doctor.” “Joe is right; and, unless I’m mistaken, there is a group of about a score of natives on it now.” “We’ll make them scatter; there’ll be no great trouble in that,” responded Ferguson. “So be it,” chimed in the hunter. The sun was at the zenith as the balloon approached the island. The blacks, who were members of the Makado tribe, were howling lustily, and one of them waved his bark hat in the air. Kennedy took aim at him, fired, and his hat flew about him in pieces. Thereupon there was a general scamper. The natives plunged headlong into the river, and swam to the opposite bank. Immediately, there came a shower of balls from both banks, along with a perfect cloud of arrows, but without doing the balloon any damage, where it rested with its anchor snugly secured in the fissure of a rock. Joe lost no time in sliding to the ground. “The ladder!” cried the doctor. “Follow me, Kennedy.” “What do you wish, sir?” “Let us alight. I want a witness.” “Here I am!” “Mind your post, Joe, and keep a good lookout.” “Never fear, doctor; I’ll answer for all that.” “Come, Dick,” said the doctor, as he touched the ground. So saying, he drew his companion along toward a group of rocks that rose upon one point of the island; there, after searching for some time, he began to rummage among the brambles, and, in so doing, scratched his hands until they bled. Suddenly he grasped Kennedy’s arm, exclaiming: “Look! look!” “Letters!” Yes; there, indeed, could be descried, with perfect precision of outline, some letters carved on the rock. It was quite easy to make them out: “A. D.” “A.D.!” repeated Dr. Ferguson. “Andrea Debono—the very signature of the traveller who farthest ascended the current of the Nile.” “No doubt of that, friend Samuel,” assented Kennedy. “Are you now convinced?” “It is the Nile! We cannot entertain a doubt on that score now,” was the reply. The doctor, for the last time, examined those precious initials, the exact form and size of which he carefully noted. “And now,” said he—“now for the balloon!” “Quickly, then, for I see some of the natives getting ready to recross the river.” “That matters little to us now. Let the wind but send us northward for a few hours, and we shall reach Gondokoro, and press the hands of some of our countrymen.” Ten minutes more, and the balloon was majestically ascending, while Dr. Ferguson, in token of success, waved the English flag triumphantly from his car. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (2002). Five Weeks in a Balloon. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/3526/pg3526-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

At five o’clock in the morning, preparations for departure commenced

The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . Chapter XV here Chapter XV The next day, the 20th of October, at seven o’clock in the morning, after a voyage of four days, the “Bonadventure” gently glided up to the beach at the mouth of the Mercy. Cyrus Harding and Neb, who had become very uneasy at the bad weather and the prolonged absence of their companions, had climbed at daybreak to the plateau of Prospect Heights, and they had at last caught sight of the vessel which had been so long in returning. “God be praised! there they are!” exclaimed Cyrus Harding. As to Neb in his joy, he began to dance, to twirl round, clapping his hands and shouting, “Oh! my master!” A more touching pantomime than the finest discourse. The engineer’s first idea, on counting the people on the deck of the “Bonadventure,” was that Pencroft had not found the castaway of Tabor Island, or at any rate that the unfortunate man had refused to leave his island and change one prison for another. Indeed Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert were alone on the deck of the “Bonadventure.” The moment the vessel touched, the engineer and Neb were waiting on the beach, and before the passengers had time to leap on to the sand, Harding said: “We have been very uneasy at your delay, my friends! Did you meet with any accident?” “No,” replied Gideon Spilett; “on the contrary, everything went wonderfully well. We will tell you all about it.” “However,” returned the engineer, “your search has been unsuccessful, since you are only three, just as you went!” “Excuse me, captain,” replied the sailor, “we are four.” “You have found the castaway?” “Yes.” “And you have brought him?” “Yes.” “Living?” “ Yes.” “Where is he? Who is he?” “He is,” replied the reporter, “or rather he was a man! There, Cyrus, that is all we can tell you!” The engineer was then informed of all that had passed during the voyage, and under what conditions the search had been conducted; how the only dwelling in the island had long been abandoned; how at last a castaway had been captured, who appeared no longer to belong to the human species. “And that’s just the point,” added Pencroft, “I don’t know if we have done right to bring him here.” “Certainly you have, Pencroft,” replied the engineer quickly. “But the wretched creature has no sense!” “That is possible at present,” replied Cyrus Harding, “but only a few months ago the wretched creature was a man like you and me. And who knows what will become of the survivor of us after a long solitude on this island? It is a great misfortune to be alone, my friends; and it must be believed that solitude can quickly destroy reason, since you have found this poor creature in such a state!” “But, captain,” asked Herbert, “what leads you to think that the brutishness of the unfortunate man began only a few months back?” “Because the document we found had been recently written,” answered the engineer, “and the castaway alone can have written it.” “Always supposing,” observed Gideon Spilett, “that it had not been written by a companion of this man, since dead.” “That is impossible, my dear Spilett.” “Why so?” asked the reporter. “Because the document would then have spoken of two castaways,” replied Harding, “and it mentioned only one.” Herbert then in a few words related the incidents of the voyage, and dwelt on the curious fact of the sort of passing gleam in the prisoner’s mind, when for an instant in the height of the storm he had become a sailor. “Well, Herbert,” replied the engineer, “you are right to attach great importance to this fact. The unfortunate man cannot be incurable, and despair has made him what he is; but here he will find his fellow-men, and since there is still a soul in him, this soul we shall save!” The castaway of Tabor Island, to the great pity of the engineer and the great astonishment of Neb, was then brought from the cabin which he occupied in the fore part of the “Bonadventure”; when once on land he manifested a wish to run away. But Cyrus Harding approaching, placed his hand on his shoulder with a gesture full of authority, and looked at him with infinite tenderness. Immediately the unhappy man, submitting to a superior will, gradually became calm, his eyes fell, his head bent, and he made no more resistance. “Poor fellow!” murmured the engineer. Cyrus Harding had attentively observed him. To judge by his appearance this miserable being had no longer anything human about him, and yet Harding, as had the reporter already, observed in his look an indefinable trace of intelligence. It was decided that the castaway, or rather the stranger as he was thenceforth termed by his companions, should live in one of the rooms of Granite House, from which, however, he could not escape. He was led there without difficulty, and with careful attention, it might, perhaps, be hoped that some day he would be a companion to the settlers in Lincoln Island. Cyrus Harding, during breakfast, which Neb had hastened to prepare, as the reporter, Herbert, and Pencroft were dying of hunger, heard in detail all the incidents which had marked the voyage of exploration to the islet. He agreed with his friends on this point, that the stranger must be either English or American, the name Britannia leading them to suppose this, and, besides, through the bushy beard, and under the shaggy, matted hair, the engineer thought he could recognize the characteristic features of the Anglo-Saxon. “But, by the bye,” said Gideon Spilett, addressing Herbert, “you never told us how you met this savage, and we know nothing, except that you would have been strangled, if we had not happened to come up in time to help you!” “Upon my word,” answered Herbert, “it is rather difficult to say how it happened. I was, I think, occupied in collecting my plants, when I heard a noise like an avalanche falling from a very tall tree. I scarcely had time to look round. This unfortunate man, who was without doubt concealed in a tree, rushed upon me in less time than I take to tell you about it, and unless Mr. Spilett and Pencroft—” “My boy!” said Cyrus Harding, “you ran a great danger, but, perhaps, without that, the poor creature would have still hidden himself from your search, and we should not have had a new companion.” “You hope, then, Cyrus, to succeed in reforming the man?” asked the reporter. “Yes,” replied the engineer. Breakfast over, Harding and his companions left Granite House and returned to the beach. They there occupied themselves in unloading the “Bonadventure,” and the engineer, having examined the arms and tools, saw nothing which could help them to establish the identity of the stranger. The capture of pigs, made on the islet, was looked upon as being very profitable to Lincoln Island, and the animals were led to the sty, where they soon became at home. The two barrels, containing the powder and shot, as well as the box of caps, were very welcome. It was agreed to establish a small powder-magazine, either outside Granite House or in the Upper Cavern, where there would be no fear of explosion. However, the use of pyroxyle was to be continued, for this substance giving excellent results, there was no reason for substituting ordinary powder. When the unloading of the vessel was finished,— “Captain,” said Pencroft, “I think it would be prudent to put our ‘Bonadventure’ in a safe place.” “Is she not safe at the mouth of the Mercy?” asked Cyrus Harding. “No, captain,” replied the sailor. “Half of the time she is stranded on the sand, and that works her. She is a famous craft, you see, and she behaved admirably during the squall which struck us on our return.” “Could she not float in the river?” “No doubt, captain, she could; but there is no shelter there, and in the east winds, I think that the ‘Bonadventure’ would suffer much from the surf.” “Well, where would you put her, Pencroft?” “In Port Balloon,” replied the sailor. “That little creek, shut in by rocks, seems to me to be just the harbor we want.” “Is it not rather far?” “Pooh! it is not more than three miles from Granite House, and we have a fine straight road to take us there!” “Do it then, Pencroft, and take your ‘Bonadventure’ there,” replied the engineer, “and yet I would rather have her under our more immediate protection. When we have time, we must make a little harbor for her.” “Famous!” exclaimed Pencroft. “A harbor with a lighthouse, a pier, and dock! Ah! really with you, captain, everything becomes easy.” “Yes, my brave Pencroft,” answered the engineer, “but on condition, however, that you help me, for you do as much as three men in all our work.” Herbert and the sailor then re-embarked on board the “Bonadventure,” the anchor was weighed, the sail hoisted, and the wind drove her rapidly towards Claw Cape. Two hours after, she was reposing on the tranquil waters of Port Balloon. During the first days passed by the stranger in Granite House, had he already given them reason to think that his savage nature was becoming tamed? Did a brighter light burn in the depths of that obscured mind? In short, was the soul returning to the body? Yes, to a certainty, and to such a degree, that Cyrus Harding and the reporter wondered if the reason of the unfortunate man had ever been totally extinguished. At first, accustomed to the open air, to the unrestrained liberty which he had enjoyed on Tabor Island, the stranger manifested a sullen fury, and it was feared that he might throw himself onto the beach, out of one of the windows of Granite House. But gradually he became calmer, and more freedom was allowed to his movements. They had reason to hope, and to hope much. Already, forgetting his carnivorous instincts, the stranger accepted a less bestial nourishment than that on which he fed on the islet, and cooked meat did not produce in him the same sentiment of repulsion which he had showed on board the “Bonadventure.” Cyrus Harding had profited by a moment when he was sleeping, to cut his hair and matted beard, which formed a sort of mane and gave him such a savage aspect. He had also been clothed more suitably, after having got rid of the rag which covered him. The result was that, thanks to these attentions, the stranger resumed a more human appearance, and it even seemed as if his eyes had become milder. Certainly, when formerly lighted up by intelligence, this man’s face must have had a sort of beauty. Every day, Harding imposed on himself the task of passing some hours in his company. He came and worked near him, and occupied himself in different things, so as to fix his attention. A spark, indeed, would be sufficient to reillumine that soul, a recollection crossing that brain to recall reason. That had been seen, during the storm, on board the “Bonadventure!” The engineer did not neglect either to speak aloud, so as to penetrate at the same time by the organs of hearing and sight the depths of that torpid intelligence. Sometimes one of his companions, sometimes another, sometimes all joined him. They spoke most often of things belonging to the navy, which must interest a sailor. At times, the stranger gave some slight attention to what was said, and the settlers were soon convinced that he partly understood them. Sometimes the expression of his countenance was deeply sorrowful, a proof that he suffered mentally, for his face could not be mistaken; but he did not speak, although at different times, however, they almost thought that words were about to issue from his lips. At all events, the poor creature was quite quiet and sad! But was not his calm only apparent? Was not his sadness only the result of his seclusion? Nothing could yet be ascertained. Seeing only certain objects and in a limited space, always in contact with the colonists, to whom he would soon become accustomed, having no desires to satisfy, better fed, better clothed, it was natural that his physical nature should gradually improve; but was he penetrated with the sense of a new life? or rather, to employ a word which would be exactly applicable to him, was he not becoming tamed, like an animal in company with his master? This was an important question, which Cyrus Harding was anxious to answer, and yet he did not wish to treat his invalid roughly! Would he ever be a convalescent? How the engineer observed him every moment! How he was on the watch for his soul, if one may use the expression! How he was ready to grasp it! The settlers followed with real sympathy all the phases of the cure undertaken by Harding. They aided him also in this work of humanity, and all, except perhaps the incredulous Pencroft, soon shared both his hope and his faith. The calm of the stranger was deep, as has been said, and he even showed a sort of attachment for the engineer, whose influence he evidently felt. Cyrus Harding resolved then to try him, by transporting him to another scene, from that ocean which formerly his eyes had been accustomed to contemplate, to the border of the forest, which might perhaps recall those where so many years of his life had been passed! “But,” said Gideon Spilett, “can we hope that he will not escape, if once set at liberty?” “The experiment must be tried,” replied the engineer. “Well!” said Pencroft. “When that fellow is outside, and feels the fresh air, he will be off as fast as his legs can carry him!” “I do not think so,” returned Harding. “Let us try,” said Spilett. “We will try,” replied the engineer. This was on the 30th of October, and consequently the castaway of Tabor Island had been a prisoner in Granite House for nine days. It was warm, and a bright sun darted its rays on the island. Cyrus Harding and Pencroft went to the room occupied by the stranger, who was found lying near the window and gazing at the sky. “Come, my friend,” said the engineer to him. The stranger rose immediately. His eyes were fixed on Cyrus Harding, and he followed him, while the sailor marched behind them, little confident as to the result of the experiment. Arrived at the door, Harding and Pencroft made him take his place in the lift, while Neb, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett waited for them before Granite House. The lift descended, and in a few moments all were united on the beach. The settlers went a short distance from the stranger, so as to leave him at liberty. He then made a few steps toward the sea, and his look brightened with extreme animation, but he did not make the slightest attempt to escape. He was gazing at the little waves which, broken by the islet, rippled on the sand. “This is only the sea,” observed Gideon Spilett, “and possibly it does not inspire him with any wish to escape!” “Yes,” replied Harding, “we must take him to the plateau, on the border of the forest. There the experiment will be more conclusive.” “Besides, he could not run away,” said Neb, “since the bridge is raised.” “Oh!” said Pencroft, “that isn’t a man to be troubled by a stream like Creek Glycerine! He could cross it directly, at a single bound!” “We shall soon see,” Harding contented himself with replying, his eyes not quitting those of his patient. The latter was then led towards the mouth of the Mercy, and all climbing the left bank of the river, reached Prospect Heights. Arrived at the spot on which grew the first beautiful trees of the forest, their foliage slightly agitated by the breeze, the stranger appeared greedily to drink in the penetrating odor which filled the atmosphere, and a long sigh escaped from his chest. The settlers kept behind him, ready to seize him if he made any movement to escape! And, indeed, the poor creature was on the point of springing into the creek which separated him from the forest, and his legs were bent for an instant as if for a spring, but almost immediately he stepped back, half sank down, and a large tear fell from his eyes. “Ah!” exclaimed Cyrus Harding, “you have become a man again, for you can weep!” About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jules Verne (1998). The Mysterious Island. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October 2022 https://www.gutenberg.org/files/1268/1268-h/1268-h.htm This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at , located at . www.gutenberg.org https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html

The next day, the 20th of October, at seven o’clock in the morning

The Noonification: State of the Noonion: Green Clock Strikes Noon (10/17/2022)

Supernormal Stimuli: Are We Amusing Ourselves to Death?

অতিপ্রাকৃতিক উদ্দীপনা: আমরা কি মৃত্যুর জন্য মজা করছি?

Übernatürliche Reize: Amüsieren wir uns zu Tode?

Estímulos sobrenaturales: ¿nos estamos divirtiendo hasta la muerte?

Stimuli supranormaux : sommes-nous en train de nous amuser à mourir ?

अलौकिक उत्तेजनाएँ: क्या हम अपने आप को मौत तक मनोरंजन कर रहे हैं?

超常刺激：私たちは死ぬほど楽しんでいるのか？

초자연적 자극: 우리는 죽을 때까지 즐겁게 지내고 있나요?

Estímulos supranormais: estamos nos divertindo até a morte?

Сверхъестественные стимулы: развлекаемся ли мы до смерти?

Olağanüstü Uyarıcılar: Kendimizi Ölesiye Eğlendiriyor muyuz?

Kích thích siêu thường: Chúng ta có đang vui vẻ đến chết không?

超常刺激：我们是不是正在自娱自乐？

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