CYRUS HARDING GIVES AN ACCOUNT OF HIS EXPLORATION--THE CONSTRUCTION OF
THE SHIP PUSHED FORWARD--A LAST VISIT TO THE CORRAL--THE BATTLE BETWEEN
FIRE AND WATER--ALL THAT REMAINS OF THE ISLAND--IT IS DECIDED TO LAUNCH
THE VESSEL--THE NIGHT OF THE 8TH OF MARCH.
The next day, the 8th of January, after a day and night passed at the
corral, where they left all in order, Cyrus Harding and Ayrton arrived
at Granite House.
The engineer immediately called his companions together, and informed
them of the imminent danger which threatened Lincoln Island, and from
which no human power could deliver them.
"My friends," he said, and his voice betrayed the depth of his emotion,
"our island is not among those which will endure while this earth
endures. It is doomed to more or less speedy destruction, the cause of
which it bears within itself, and from which nothing can save it."
The colonists looked at each other, then at the engineer. They did not
clearly comprehend him.
"Explain yourself, Cyrus!" said Gideon Spilett.
"I will do so," replied Cyrus Harding, "or rather I will simply afford
you the explanation which, during our few minutes of private
conversation, was given me by Captain Nemo."
"Captain Nemo!" exclaimed the colonists.
"Yes, and it was the last service he desired to render us before his
death!"
"The last service!" exclaimed Pencroft, "the last service! You will see
that though he is dead he will render us others yet!"
"But what did the captain say?" inquired the reporter.
"I will tell you, my friends," said the engineer. "Lincoln Island does
not resemble the other islands of the Pacific, and a fact of which
Captain Nemo has made me cognisant must sooner or later bring about the
subversion of its foundation."
"Nonsense! Lincoln Island, it can't be!" cried Pencroft, who, in spite
of the respect he felt for Cyrus Harding, could not prevent a gesture of
incredulity.
"Listen, Pencroft," resumed the engineer, "I will tell you what Captain
Nemo communicated to me, and which I myself confirmed yesterday, during
the exploration of Dakkar Grotto. This cavern stretches under the
island as far as the volcano, and is only separated from its central
shaft by the wall which terminates it. Now, this wall is seamed with
fissures and clefts which already allow the sulphureous gases generated
in the interior of the volcano to escape."
"Well?" said Pencroft, his brow suddenly contracting.
"Well, then, I saw that these fissures widen under the internal pressure
from within, that the wall of basalt is gradually giving way, and that
after a longer or shorter period it will afford a passage to the waters
of the lake which fill the cavern."
"Good!" replied Pencroft, with an attempt at pleasantry. "The sea will
extinguish the volcano, and there will be an end of the matter!"
"Not so!" said Cyrus Harding, "should a day arrive when the sea, rushing
through the wall of the cavern, penetrates by the central shaft into the
interior of the island to the boiling lava, Lincoln Island will that day
be blown into the air--just as would happen to the island of Sicily were
the Mediterranean to precipitate itself into Mount Etna."
The colonists made no answer to these significant words of the engineer.
They now understood the danger by which they were menaced.
It may be added that Cyrus Harding had in no way exaggerated the danger
to be apprehended. Many persons have formed an idea that it would be
possible to extinguish volcanoes, which are almost always situated on
the shores of a sea or lake, by opening a passage for the admission of
the water. But they are not aware that this would be to incur the risk
of blowing up a portion of the globe, like a boiler whose steam is
suddenly expanded by intense heat. The water, rushing into a cavity
whose temperature might be estimated at thousands of degrees, would be
converted into steam with a sudden energy which no enclosure could
resist.
It was not therefore doubtful that the island, menaced by a frightful
and approaching convulsion, would endure only so long as the wall of
Dakkar Grotto itself should endure. It was not even a question of
months, nor of weeks; but of days, it might be of hours.
The first sentiment which the colonists felt was that of profound
sorrow. They thought not so much of the peril which menaced themselves
personally, but of the destruction of the island which had sheltered
them, which they had cultivated, which they loved so well, and had hoped
to render so flourishing. So much effort ineffectually expended, so
much labour lost.
Pencroft could not prevent a large tear from rolling down his cheek, nor
did he attempt to conceal it.
Some further conversation now took place. The chances yet in favour of
the colonists were discussed; but finally it was agreed that there was
not an hour to be lost, that the building and fitting of the vessel
should be pushed forward with their utmost energy, and that this was the
sole chance of safety for the inhabitants of Lincoln Island.
All hands, therefore, set to work on the vessel. What could it now
avail to sow, to reap, to hunt, to increase the stores of Granite House?
The contents of the store-house and outbuildings contained more than
sufficient to provide the ship for a voyage, however long might be its
duration. But it was imperative that the ship should be ready to
receive them before the inevitable catastrophe should arrive.
Their labours were now carried on with feverish ardour. By the 23rd of
January the vessel was half-decked over. Up to this time no change had
taken place in the summit of the volcano. Vapour and smoke mingled with
flames and incandescent stones were thrown up from the crater. But
during the night of the 23rd, in consequence of the lava attaining the
level of the first stratum of the volcano, the hat-shaped cone which
formed over the latter disappeared. A frightful sound was heard. The
colonists at first thought the island was rent asunder, and rushed out
of Granite House.
This occurred about two o'clock in the morning.
The sky appeared on fire. The superior cone, a mass of rock a thousand
feet in height, and weighing thousands of millions of pounds, had been
thrown down upon the island, making it tremble to its foundation.
Fortunately, this cone inclined to the north, and had fallen upon the
plain of sand and tufa stretching between the volcano and the sea. The
aperture of the crater being thus enlarged projected towards the sky a
glare so intense that by the simple effect of reflection the atmosphere
appeared red-hot. At the same time a torrent of lava, bursting from the
new summit, poured out in long cascades, like water escaping from a vase
too full, and a thousand tongues of fire crept over the sides of the
volcano.
"The corral! the corral!" exclaimed Ayrton.
It was, in fact, towards the corral that the lava was rushing, as the
new crater faced the east, and consequently the fertile portions of the
island, the springs of Red Creek and Jacamar Wood, were menaced with
instant destruction.
At Ayrton's cry the colonists rushed to the onagas' stables. The cart
was at once harnessed. All were possessed by the same thought--to
hasten to the corral and set at liberty the animals it enclosed.
Before three in the morning they arrived at the corral. The cries of
the terrified musmons and goats indicated the alarm which possessed
them. Already a torrent of burning matter and liquefied minerals fell
from the side of the mountain upon the meadows as far as the side of the
palisade. The gate was burst open by Ayrton, and the animals,
bewildered with terror, fled in all directions.
An hour afterwards the boiling lava filled the corral, converting into
vapour the water of the little rivulet which ran through it, burning up
the house like dry grass, and leaving not even a post of the palisade to
mark the spot where the corral once stood.
To contend against this disaster would have been folly--nay, madness.
In presence of Nature's grand convulsions man is powerless.
It was now daylight--the 24th of January. Cyrus Harding and his
companions, before returning to Granite House, desired to ascertain the
probable direction this inundation of lava was about to take. The soil
sloped gradually from Mount Franklin to the east coast, and it was to be
feared that, in spite of the thick Jacamar Wood, the torrent would reach
the plateau of Prospect Heights.
"The lake will cover us," said Gideon Spilett.
"I hope so!" was Cyrus Harding's only reply.
The colonists were desirous of reaching the plain upon which the
superior cone of Mount Franklin had fallen, but the lava arrested their
progress. It had followed, on one side, the valley of Red Creek, and on
the other that of Falls River, evaporating those watercourses in its
passage. There was no possibility of crossing the torrent of lava; on
the contrary, the colonists were obliged to retreat before it. The
volcano, without its crown, was no longer recognisable, terminated as it
was by a sort of flat table which replaced the ancient crater. From two
openings in its southern and eastern sides an unceasing flow of lava
poured forth, thus forming two distinct streams. Above the new crater a
cloud of smoke and ashes, mingled with those of the atmosphere, massed
over the island. Loud peals of thunder broke, and could scarcely be
distinguished from the rumblings of the mountain, whose mouth vomited
forth ignited rocks, which, hurled to more than a thousand feet, burst
in the air like shells. Flashes of lightning rivalled in intensity the
volcano's eruption.
Towards seven in the morning the position was no longer tenable by the
colonists, who accordingly took shelter in the borders of Jacamar Wood.
Not only did the projectiles begin to rain around them, but the lava,
overflowing the bed of Red Creek, threatened to cut off the road to the
corral. The nearest rows of trees caught fire, and their sap, suddenly
transformed into vapour, caused them to explode with loud reports,
whilst others, less moist, remained unhurt in the midst of the
inundation.
The colonists had again taken the road to the corral. They proceeded
but slowly, frequently looking back; but, in consequence of the
inclination of the soil, the lava gained rapidly in the east, and as its
lower waves became solidified, others at boiling heat covered them
immediately.
Meanwhile, the principal stream of Red Creek valley became more and more
menacing. All this portion of the forest was on fire, and enormous
wreaths of smoke rolled over the trees, whose trunks were already
consumed by the lava. The colonists halted near the lake, about half a
mile from the mouth of Red Creek. A question of life or death was now
to be decided.
Cyrus Harding, accustomed to the consideration of important crises, and
aware that he was addressing men capable of hearing the truth, whatever
it might be, then said--
"Either the lake will arrest the progress of the lava, and a part of the
island will be preserved from utter destruction, or the stream will
overrun the forests of the Far West, and not a tree or plant will remain
on the surface of the soil. We shall have no prospect but that of
starvation upon these barren rocks--a death which will probably be
anticipated by the explosion of the island."
"In that case," replied Pencroft, folding his arms and stamping his
foot, "what's the use of working any longer on the vessel?"
"Pencroft," answered Cyrus Harding, "we must do our duty to the last!"
At this instant the river of lava, after having broken a passage through
the noble trees it devoured in its course, reached the borders of the
lake. At this point there was an elevation of the soil which, had it
been greater, might have sufficed to arrest the torrent.
"To work!" cried Cyrus Harding.
The engineer's thought was at once understood. It might be possible to
dam, as it were, the torrent, and thus compel it to pour itself into the
lake.
The colonists hastened to the dockyard. They returned with shovels,
picks, axes, and by means of banking the earth with the aid of fallen
trees they succeeded in a few hours in raising an embankment three feet
high and some hundreds of paces in length. It seemed to them, when they
had finished, as if they had scarcely been working more than a few
minutes.
It was not a moment too soon. The liquefied substances soon after
reached the bottom of the barrier. The stream of lava swelled like a
river about to overflow its banks, and threatened to demolish the sole
obstacle which could prevent it from overrunning the whole Far West.
But the dam held firm, and after a moment of terrible suspense the
torrent precipitated itself into Grant Lake from a height of twenty
feet.
The colonists, without moving or uttering a word, breathlessly regarded
this strife of the two elements.
What a spectacle was this conflict between water and fire! What pen
could describe the marvellous horror of this scene--what pencil could
depict it? The water hissed as it evaporated by contact with the
boiling lava. The vapour whirled in the air to an immeasurable height,
as if the valves of an immense boiler had been suddenly opened. But,
however considerable might be the volume of water contained in the lake,
it must eventually be absorbed, because it was not replenished, whilst
the stream of lava, fed from an inexhaustible source, rolled on without
ceasing new waves of incandescent matter.
The first waves of lava which fell in the lake immediately solidified,
and accumulated so as speedily to emerge from it. Upon their surface
fell other waves, which in their turn became stone, but a step nearer
the centre of the lake. In this manner was formed a pier which
threatened to gradually fill up the lake, which could not overflow, the
water displaced by the lava being evaporated. The hissing of the water
rent the air with a deafening sound, and the vapour, blown by the wind,
fell in rain upon the sea. The pier became longer and longer, and the
blocks of lava piled themselves one on another. Where formerly
stretched the calm waters of the lake now appeared an enormous mass of
smoking rocks, as if an upheaving of the soil had formed immense shoals.
Imagine the waters of the lake aroused by a hurricane, then suddenly
solidified by an intense frost, and some conception may be formed of the
aspect of the lake three hours after the irruption of this irresistible
torrent of lava.
This time water would be vanquished by fire.
Nevertheless it was a fortunate circumstance for the colonists that the
effusion of lava should have been in the direction of Lake Grant. They
had before them some days' respite. The plateau of Prospect Heights,
Granite House, and the dockyard were for the moment preserved. And
these few days it was necessary to employ them in planking, carefully
caulking the vessel, and launching her. The colonists would then take
refuge on board the vessel, content to rig her after she should be
afloat on the waters. With the danger of an explosion which threatened
to destroy the island there could be no security on shore. The walls of
Granite House, once so sure a retreat, might at any moment fall in upon
them.
During the six following days, from the 25th to the 30th of January, the
colonists accomplished as much of the construction of their vessel as
twenty men could have done. They hardly allowed themselves a moment's
repose, and the glare of the flames which shot from the crater enabled
them to work night and day. The flow of lava continued, but perhaps
less abundantly. This was fortunate, for Lake Grant was almost entirely
choked up, and if more lava should accumulate it would inevitably spread
over the plateau of Prospect Heights, and thence upon the beach.
But if the island was thus partially protected on this side, it was not
so with the western part.
In fact, the second stream of lava, which had followed the valley of
Falls River, a valley of great extent, the land on both sides of the
creek being flat, met with no obstacle. The burning liquid had then
spread through the forest of the Far West. At this period of the year,
when the trees were dried up by a tropical heat, the forest caught fire
instantaneously, in such a manner that the conflagration extended itself
both by the trunks of the trees and by their higher branches, whose
interlacement favoured its progress. It even appeared that the current
of flame spread more rapidly among the summits of the trees than the
current of lava at their bases.
Thus it happened that the wild animals, jaguars, wild boars, cabybaras,
koulas, and game of every kind, mad with terror, had fled to the banks
of the Mercy and to the Tadorn Marsh, beyond the road to Port Balloon.
But the colonists were too much occupied with their task to pay any
attention to even the most formidable of these animals. They had
abandoned Granite House, and would not even take shelter at the
Chimneys, but encamped under a tent, near the mouth of the Mercy.
Each day Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett ascended the plateau of
Prospect Heights. Sometimes Herbert accompanied them, but never
Pencroft, who could not bear to look upon the prospect of the island now
so utterly devastated.
It was, in truth, a heartrending spectacle. All the wooded part of the
island was now completely bare. One single clump of green trees raised
their heads at the extremity of Serpentine Peninsula. Here and there
were a few grotesque blackened and branchless stumps. The site of the
devastated forest was even more barren than Tadorn Marsh. The irruption
of the lava had been complete. Where formerly sprang up that charming
verdure, the soil was now nothing but a savage mass of volcanic tufa.
In the valleys of the Falls and Mercy rivers no drop of water now flowed
towards the sea, and should Lake Grant be entirely dried up, the
colonists would have no means of quenching their thirst. But,
fortunately, the lava had spared the southern corner of the lake,
containing all that remained of the drinkable water of the island.
Towards the north-west stood out the rugged and well-defined outlines of
the sides of the volcano, like a gigantic claw hovering over the island.
What a sad and fearful sight, and how painful to the colonists, who,
from a fertile domain covered with forests, irrigated by watercourses,
and enriched by the produce of their toils, found themselves, as it
were, transported to a desolate rock, upon which, but for their reserves
of provisions, they could not even gather the means of subsistence!
"It is enough to break one's heart!" said Gideon Spilett, one day.
"Yes, Spilett," answered the engineer. "May God grant us the time to
complete this vessel, now our sole refuge!"
"Do not you think, Cyrus, that the violence of the eruption has somewhat
lessened? The volcano still vomits forth lava, but somewhat less
abundantly, if I mistake not."
"It matters little," answered Cyrus Harding. "The fire is still burning
in the interior of the mountain, and the sea may break in at any moment.
We are in the condition of passengers whose ship is devoured by a
conflagration which they cannot extinguish, and who know that sooner or
later the flames must reach the powder-magazine. To work, Spilett, to
work, and let us not lose an hour!"
During eight days more, that is to say until the 7th of February, the
lava continued to flow, but the eruption was confined within the
previous limits. Cyrus Harding feared above all lest the liquefied
matter should overflow the shore, for in that event the dockyard could
not escape. Moreover, about this time the colonists felt in the frame
of the island vibrations which alarmed them to the highest degree.
It was the 20th of February. Yet another month must elapse before the
vessel would be ready for sea. Would the island hold together till
then? The intention of Pencroft and Cyrus Harding was to launch the
vessel as soon as the hull should be complete. The deck, the
upper-works, the interior woodwork and the rigging, might be finished
afterwards, but the essential point was that the colonists should have
an assured refuge away from the island. Perhaps it might be even better
to conduct the vessel to Port Balloon, that is to say, as far as
possible from the centre of eruption, for at the mouth of the Mercy,
between the islet and the wall of granite, it would run the risk of
being crushed in the event of any convulsion. All the exertions of the
voyagers were therefore concentrated upon the completion of the hull.
Thus the 3rd of March arrived, and they might calculate upon launching
the vessel in ten days.
Hope revived in the hearts of the colonists, who had, in this fourth
year of their sojourn on Lincoln Island, suffered so many trials. Even
Pencroft lost in some measure the sombre taciturnity occasioned by the
devastation and ruin of his domain. His hopes, it is true, were
concentrated upon his vessel.
"We shall finish it," he said to the engineer, "we shall finish it,
captain, and it is time, for the season is advancing and the equinox
will soon be here. Well, if necessary, we must put in to Tabor Island
to spend the winter. But think of Tabor Island after Lincoln Island.
Ah, how unfortunate! Who could have believed it possible?"
"Let us get on," was the engineer's invariable reply.
And they worked away without losing a moment.
"Master," asked Neb, a few days later, "do you think all this could have
happened if Captain Nemo had been still alive?"
"Certainly, Neb," answered Cyrus Harding.
"I, for one, don't believe it!" whispered Pencroft to Neb.
"Nor I!" answered Neb seriously.
During the first week of March appearances again became menacing.
Thousands of threads like glass, formed of fluid lava, fell like rain
upon the island. The crater was again boiling with lava which
overflowed the back of the volcano. The torrent flowed along the
surface of the hardened tufa, and destroyed the few meagre skeletons of
trees which had withstood the first eruption. The stream flowing this
time towards the south-west shore of Lake Grant, stretched beyond Creek
Glycerine, and invaded the plateau of Prospect Heights. This last blow
to the work of the colonists was terrible. The mill, the buildings of
the inner court, the stables, were all destroyed. The affrighted
poultry fled in all directions. Top and Jup showed signs of the
greatest alarm, as if their instinct warned them of an impending
catastrophe. A large number of the animals of the island had perished
in the first eruption. Those which survived found no refuge but Tadorn
Marsh, save a few to which the plateau of Prospect Heights afforded an
asylum. But even this last retreat was now closed to them, and the
lava-torrent, flowing over the edge of the granite wall, began to pour
down upon the beach its cataracts of fire. The sublime horror of this
spectacle passed all description. During the night it could only be
compared to a Niagara of molten fluid, with its incandescent vapours
above and its boiling masses below.
The colonists were driven to their last entrenchment, and although the
upper seams of the vessel were not yet caulked, they decided to launch
her at once.
Pencroft and Ayrton therefore set about the necessary preparations for
the launch, which was to take place the morning of the next day, the 9th
of March.
But, during the night of the 8th an enormous column of vapour escaping
from the crater rose with frightful explosions to a height of more than
three thousand feet. The wall of Dakkar Grotto had evidently given way
under the pressure of the gases, and the sea, rushing through the
central shaft into the igneous gulf, was at once converted into vapour.
But the crater could not afford a sufficient outlet for this vapour. An
explosion, which might have been heard at a distance of a hundred miles,
shook the air. Fragments of mountains fell into the Pacific, and, in a
few minutes, the ocean rolled over the spot where Lincoln Island once
stood.