So it was not on the American coast that the "Pilgrim" had gone ashore!
It was not the Isle of Paques, whose bearing the novice had taken at
sea, but some other island situated exactly to the west of this
continent, as the Isle of Paques is situated to the west of America.

The compass had deceived him during a part of the voyage, we know why!
Led away by the tempest over a false route, he must have doubled Cape
Horn, and from the Pacific Ocean he had passed into the Atlantic! The
speed of his ship, which he could only imperfectly estimate, had been
doubled, unknown to him, by the force of the hurricane!

Behold why the caoutchouc trees, the quinquinas, the products of South
America were missing in this country, which was neither the plateau of
Atacama nor the Bolivian pampa!

Yes, they were giraffes, not ostriches, which had fled away in the
opening! They were elephants that had crossed the thick underwood! They
were hippopotami whose repose Dick Sand had troubled under the large
plants! It was the _tsetse_, that dipter picked up by Benedict, the
formidable _tsetse_ under whose stings the animals of the caravans
perish!

Finally, it was, indeed, the roaring of the lion that had just sounded
through the forest! And those forks, those chains, that knife of
singular form, they were the tools of the slave-trader! Those mutilated
hands, they were the hands of captives!

The Portuguese Negoro, and the American Harris, must be in collusion!
And those terrible words guessed by Dick Sand, finally escaped his lips: