HERBERT CARRIED TO GRANITE HOUSE--NEB RELATES ALL THAT HAS HAPPENED--
HARDING'S VISIT TO THE PLATEAU--RUIN AND DEVASTATION--THE COLONISTS
BAFFLED BY HERBERT'S ILLNESS--WILLOW BARK--A DEADLY FEVER--TOP BARKS
AGAIN!
Of the convicts, the dangers which menaced Granite House, the ruins with
which the plateau was covered, the colonists thought no longer.
Herbert's critical state outweighed all other considerations. Would the
removal prove fatal to him by causing some internal injury? The
reporter could not affirm it, but he and his companions almost despaired
of the result. The cart was brought to the bend of the river. There
some branches, disposed as a litter, received the mattress on which lay
the unconscious Herbert. Ten minutes after, Cyrus Harding, Spilett, and
Pencroft were at the foot of the cliff, leaving Neb to take the cart
onto the plateau of Prospect Heights. The lift was put in motion, and
Herbert was soon stretched on his bed in Granite House.
What cares were lavished on him to bring him back to life! He smiled
for a moment on finding himself in his room, but could scarcely even
murmur a few words, so great was his weakness. Gideon Spilett examined
his wounds. He feared to find them reopened, having been imperfectly
healed. There was nothing of the sort. From whence, then, came this
prostration? Why was Herbert so much worse? The lad then fell into a
kind of feverish sleep, and the reporter and Pencroft remained near the
bed. During this time, Harding told Neb all that had happened at the
corral, and Neb recounted to his master the events of which the plateau
had just been the theatre.
It was only during the preceding night that the convicts had appeared on
the edge of the forest, at the approaches to Creek Glycerine. Neb, who
was watching near the poultry-yard, had not hesitated to fire at one of
the pirates, who was about to cross the stream; but in the darkness he
could not tell whether the man had been hit or not. At any rate, it was
not enough to frighten away the band, and Neb had only just time to get
up to Granite House, where at least he was in safety.
But what was he to do there? How prevent the devastations with which
the convicts threatened the plateau? Had Neb any means by which to warn
his master? And, besides, in what situation were the inhabitants of the
corral themselves? Cyrus Harding and his companions had left on the
11th of November, and it was now the 29th. It was, therefore, nineteen
days since Neb had had other news than that brought by Top--disastrous
news: Ayrton disappeared, Herbert severely wounded, the engineer,
reporter, and sailor, as it were, imprisoned in the corral!
What was he to do? asked poor Neb. Personally he had nothing to fear,
for the convicts could not reach him in Granite House. But the
buildings, the plantations, all their arrangements at the mercy of the
pirates! Would it not be best to let Cyrus Harding judge of what he
ought to do, and to warn him, at least, of the danger which threatened
him?
Neb then thought of employing Jup, and confiding a note to him. He knew
the orang's great intelligence, which had been often put to the proof.
Jup understood the word corral, which had been frequently pronounced
before him, and it may be remembered, too, that he had often driven the
cart thither in company with Pencroft. Day had not yet dawned. The
active orang would know how to pass unperceived through the woods, of
which the convicts, besides, would think he was a native.
Neb did not hesitate. He wrote the note, he tied it to Jup's neck, he
brought the ape to the door of Granite House, from which he let down a
long cord to the ground; then, several times, he repeated these words--
"Jup, Jup! corral, corral!"
The creature understood, seized the cord, glided rapidly down to the
beach, and disappeared in the darkness without the convicts' attention
having been in the least excited.
"You did well, Neb," said Harding; "but perhaps in not warning us you
would have done still better!"
And, in speaking thus, Cyrus Harding thought of Herbert, whose recovery
the removal had so seriously checked.
Neb ended his account. The convicts had not appeared at all on the
beach. Not knowing the number of the island's inhabitants, they might
suppose that Granite House was defended by a large party. They must
have remembered that during the attack by the brig numerous shot had
been fired both from the lower and upper rocks, and no doubt they did
not wish to expose themselves. But the plateau of Prospect Heights was
open to them, and not covered by the fire of Granite House. They gave
themselves up, therefore, to their instinct of destruction,--plundering,
burning, devastating everything,--and only retiring half an hour before
the arrival of the colonists, whom they believed still confined in the
corral.
On their retreat, Neb hurried out. He climbed the plateau at the risk
of being perceived and fired at, tried to extinguish the fire which was
consuming the buildings of the poultry-yard, and had struggled, though
in vain, against it until the cart appeared at the edge of the wood.
Such had been these serious events. The presence of the convicts
constituted a permanent source of danger to the settlers in Lincoln
Island, until then so happy, and who might now expect still greater
misfortunes.
Spilett remained in Granite House with Herbert and Pencroft, while Cyrus
Harding, accompanied by Neb, proceeded to judge for himself of the
extent of the disaster.
It was fortunate that the convicts had not advanced to the foot of
Granite House. The workshop at the Chimneys would in that case not have
escaped destruction. But after all, this evil would have been more
easily reparable than the ruins accumulated on the plateau of Prospect
Heights. Harding and Neb proceeded towards the Mercy, and ascended its
left bank without meeting with any trace of the convicts; nor on the
other side of the river, in the depths of the wood, could they perceive
any suspicious indications.
Besides, it might be supposed that in all probability either the
convicts knew of the return of the settlers to Granite House, by having
seen them pass on the road from the corral, or, after the devastation of
the plateau, they had penetrated into Jacamar Wood, following the course
of the Mercy, and were thus ignorant of their return.
In the former case, they must have returned towards the corral, now
without defenders, and which contained valuable stores.
In the latter, they must have regained their encampment, and would wait
an opportunity to recommence the attack.
It was, therefore, possible to prevent them, but any enterprise to clear
the island was now rendered difficult by reason of Herbert's condition.
Indeed, their whole force would have been barely sufficient to cope with
the convicts, and just now no one could leave Granite House.
The engineer and Neb arrived on the plateau. Desolation reigned
everywhere. The fields had been trampled over; the ears of wheat, which
were nearly full grown, lay on the ground. The other plantations had
not suffered less.
The kitchen-garden was destroyed. Happily, Granite House possessed a
store of seed which would enable them to repair these misfortunes.
As to the wall and buildings of the poultry-yard and the onagas' stable,
the fire had destroyed all. A few terrified creatures roamed over the
plateau. The birds, which during the fire had taken refuge on the
waters of the lake, had already returned to their accustomed spot, and
were dabbling on the banks. Everything would have to be reconstructed.
Cyrus Harding's face, which was paler than usual, expressed an internal
anger which he commanded with difficulty, but he did not utter a word.
Once more he looked at his devastated fields, and at the smoke which
still rose from the ruins, then he returned to Granite House.
The following days were the saddest of any that the colonists had passed
on the island! Herbert's weakness visibly increased. It appeared that
a more serious malady, the consequence of the profound physiological
disturbance he had gone through, threatened to declare itself, and
Gideon Spilett feared such an aggravation of his condition that he would
be powerless to fight against it!
In fact, Herbert remained in an almost continuous state of drowsiness,
and symptoms of delirium began to manifest themselves. Refreshing
drinks were the only remedies at the colonists' disposal. The fever was
not as yet very high, but it soon appeared that it would probably recur
at regular intervals. Gideon Spilett first recognised this on the 6th
of December.
The poor boy, whose fingers, nose, and ears had become extremely pale,
was at first seized with slight shiverings, horripilations, and
tremblings. His pulse was weak and irregular, his skin dry, his thirst
intense. To this soon succeeded a hot fit; his face became flushed; his
skin reddened; his pulse quick; then a profuse perspiration broke out,
after which the fever seemed to diminish. The attack had lasted nearly
five hours.
Gideon Spilett had not left Herbert, who, it was only too certain was
now seized by an intermittent fever, and this fever must, be cured at
any cost before it should assume a more serious aspect.
"And in order to cure it," said Spilett to Cyrus Harding, "we need a
febrifuge."
"A febrifuge," answered the engineer. "We have neither Peruvian bark,
nor sulphate of quinine?"
"No," said Gideon Spilett, "but there are willows on the border of the
lake, and the bark of the willow might, perhaps, prove to be a
substitute for quinine."
"Let us try it without losing a moment," replied Cyrus Harding.
The bark of the willow has, indeed, been justly considered as
a succedaneum for Peruvian bark, as has also that of the
horse-chestnut-tree, the leaf of the holly, the snake-root, etcetera.
It was evidently necessary to make trial of this substance, although not
so valuable as Peruvian bark, and to employ it in its natural state,
since they had no means for extracting its essence.
Cyrus Harding went himself to cut from the trunk of a species of black
willow, a few pieces of bark; he brought them back to Granite House, and
reduced them to a powder, which was administered that same evening to
Herbert.
The night passed without any important change. Herbert was somewhat
delirious, but the fever did not reappear in the night, and did not
return either during the following day.
Pencroft again began to hope. Gideon Spilett said nothing. It might be
that the fever was not quotidian, but tertian, and that it would return
next day. Therefore, he awaited the next day with the greatest anxiety.
It might have been remarked besides that during this period Herbert
remained utterly prostrate, his head weak and giddy. Another symptom
alarmed the reporter to the highest degree. Herbert's liver became
congested, and soon a more intense delirium showed that his brain was
also affected.
Gideon Spilett was overwhelmed by this new complication. He took the
engineer aside.
"It is a malignant fever," said he.
"A malignant fever!" cried Harding. "You are mistaken, Spilett. A
malignant fever does not declare itself spontaneously; its germ must
previously have existed."
"I am not mistaken," replied the reporter. "Herbert no doubt contracted
the germ of this fever in the marshes of the island. He has already had
one attack; should a second come on and should we not be able to prevent
a third, he is lost."
"But the willow bark?"
"That is insufficient," answered the reporter; "and the third attack of
a malignant fever, which is not arrested by means of quinine, is always
fatal."
Fortunately, Pencroft heard nothing of this conversation or he would
have gone mad.
It may be imagined what anxiety the engineer and the reporter suffered
during the day of the 7th of December and the following night.
Towards the middle of the day the second attack came on. The crisis was
terrible. Herbert felt himself sinking. He stretched his arms towards
Cyrus Harding, towards Spilett, towards Pencroft. He was so young to
die! The scene was heartrending. They were obliged to send Pencroft
away.
The fit lasted five hours. It was evident that Herbert could not
survive a third.
The night was frightful. In his delirium Herbert uttered words which
went to the hearts of his companions. He struggled with the convicts,
he called to Ayrton, he poured forth entreaties to that mysterious
being,--that powerful unknown protector,--whose image was stamped upon
his mind; then he again fell into a deep exhaustion which completely
prostrated him. Several times Gideon Spilett thought that the poor boy
was dead.
The next day, the 8th of December, was but a succession of the fainting
fits. Herbert's thin hands clutched the sheets. They had administered
further doses of pounded bark, but the reporter expected no result from
it.
"If before to-morrow morning we have not given him a more energetic
febrifuge," said the reporter, "Herbert will be dead."
Night arrived--the last night, it was too much to be feared, of the
good, brave, intelligent boy, so far in advance of his years, and who
was loved by all as their own child. The only remedy which existed
against this terrible malignant fever, the only specific which could
overcome it, was not to be found in Lincoln Island.
During the night of the 8th of December, Herbert was seized by a more
violent delirium. His liver was fearfully congested, his brain
affected, and already it was impossible for him to recognise any one.
Would he live until the next day, until that third attack which must
infallibly carry him off? It was not probable. His strength was
exhausted, and in the intervals of fever he lay as one dead.
Towards three o'clock in the morning Herbert uttered a piercing cry. He
seemed to be torn by a supreme convulsion. Neb, who was near him,
terrified, ran into the next room where his companions were watching.
Top, at that moment, barked in a strange manner.
All rushed in immediately and managed to restrain the dying boy, who was
endeavouring to throw himself out of his bed, whilst Spilett, taking his
arm, felt his pulse gradually quicken.
It was five in the morning. The rays of the rising sun began to shine
in at the windows of Granite House. It promised to be a fine day, and
this day was to be poor Herbert's last!
A ray glanced on the table placed near the bed.
Suddenly Pencroft, uttering a cry, pointed to the table.