“Patagonia[20]!” exclaimed Lady Helena.

“Undoubtedly.”

“But is Patagonia crossed by the 37th parallel?” asked the Major.

“Yes, it is,” said the captain, opening a map of South America. “Patagonia just touches the 37th parallel. It cuts through Araucania[21], goes along over the Pampas[22] to the north, and loses itself in the Atlantic.”

“Well, the two sailors and the captain LAND—land where? CONTIN—on a continent; on a continent, not an island. What becomes of them? There are two letters here providentially which give a clew to their fate—PR, that must mean prisoners, and CRUEL INDIAN is evidently the meaning of the next two words. These unfortunate men are captives in the hands of cruel Indians. Don’t you see it? Isn’t the document quite clear now? Isn’t the sense self-evident?”

Glenarvan spoke in a tone of absolute conviction, and the others all exclaimed, too, “Yes, it is evident, quite evident!”

After an instant, Lord Edward said again, “I have no doubt whatever the event occurred on the coast of Patagonia, but still I will know, in Glasgow, the destination of the Britannia.”

“Oh,” said John Mangles. “I have the Gazette here, and we’ll see the name on the list, and all about it.”

“Do look at once, then,” said Lord Glenarvan.

The papers for the year 1862 was soon brought, and John began to turn over the leaves rapidly. In a few minutes he called out: “I’ve got it! ‘May 30, 1862, Peru-Callao[23], with cargo for Glasgow, the Britannia, Captain Grant[24].’”

“Grant!” exclaimed Lord Glenarvan. “That is the adventurous Scotchman that attempted to found a new Scotland on the shores of the Pacific.”

“Yes,” rejoined John Mangles, “it is the very man. He sailed from Glasgow on the Britannia in 1861, and has not been heard of since.”

“There isn’t a doubt of it, not a shadow of doubt,” repeated Lord Glenarvan. “It is just that same Captain Grant. The Britannia left Callao on the 30th of May, and on the 7th of June, a week afterward, it is lost on the coast of Patagonia. You see, friends, we know all now except one thing, and that is the longitude.”

“That is not needed now, we know the country. With the latitude alone, I would engage to go right to the place where the wreck happened.”

And he took up the pen, and dashed off the following lines immediately:

“On the 7th of June, 1862, the three-mast vessel, Britannia, of Glasgow, has sunk on the coast of Patagonia, in the southern hemisphere. Making for the shore, two sailors and Captain Grant are about to land on the continent, where they will be taken prisoners by cruel Indians. They have thrown this document into the sea, in longitude and latitude 37 degrees 11”. Bring them assistance, or they are lost.”

Lord Glenarvan flashed along the electric wire to London to the Times the following words: “For information respecting the fate of the three-mast vessel Britannia, of Glasgow, Captain Grant, apply to Lord Glenarvan, Malcolm Castle[25], Dumbartonshire, Scotland.”

Lord Edward Glenarvan’s fortune was enormous, and he spent it entirely in doing good. His kindheartedness was even greater than his generosity.

He was thirty-two years of age, tall, and had stern features; but there was an exceeding sweetness in his look. He was known to be brave. He had scarcely been married three months, and his bride was the daughter of great traveler. Miss Helena did not belong to a noble family, but she was Scotch, and that was better than all nobility in the eyes of Lord Glenarvan; and she was, moreover, a charming, religious young woman.