FIVE O’CLOCK IN THE AFTERNOON—THE LOST ONE—THE DESPAIR OF NEB—SEARCH TO
THE NORTHWARD—THE ISLAND—A NIGHT OF ANGUISH—THE FOG OF THE MORNING—NEB
SWIMMING—SIGHT OF THE LAND—FORDING THE CHANNEL.
The engineer, on the giving way of the net, had been swept away by a
wave. His dog had disappeared at the same time. The faithful animal had
of its own accord sprung to the rescue of its master.
“Forward!” cried the reporter, and all four, forgetting weakness and
fatigue, began their search. Poor Neb wept with grief and despair at
the thought of having lost all that he loved in the world.
Not more than two minutes had passed between the moment that Smith had
disappeared, and the instant of his companions landing. They were,
therefore, hopeful of being in time to rescue him.
“Hunt, hunt for him,” cried Neb.
“Yes, Neb, and we will find him,” replied Spilett.
“Alive?”
“Alive!”
“Can he swim?” demanded Pencroff.
“Oh, yes,” responded Neb. “And, besides, Top is with him—”
The sailor, looking at the roaring sea, shook his head.
It was at a point northward from this shore, and about half a mile from
the place where the castaways had landed, that the engineer had
disappeared, and if he had come ashore at the nearest point it was at
least that distance from where they now were.
It was nearly 6 o’clock. The fog had risen and made the night very
dark. The castaways followed northward along the shore of that land
upon which chance had thrown them. A land unknown, whose geographical
situation they could not guess. They walked upon a sandy soil, mixed
with stones, seemingly destitute of any kind of vegetation. The ground,
very uneven, seemed in certain places to be riddled with small holes,
making the march very painful. From these holes, great, heavy-flying
birds rushed forth, and were lost in the darkness. Others, more active,
rose in flocks, and fled away like the clouds. The sailor thought he
recognized gulls and sea-mews, whose sharp cries were audible above the
raging of the sea.
From time to time the castaways would stop and call, listening for an
answering voice from the ocean. They thought, too, that if they were
near the place where the engineer had been, washed ashore, and he had
been unable to make any response, that, at least, the barking of the
dog Top would have been heard. But no sound was distinguishable above
the roaring of the waves and the thud of the surf. Then the little
party would resume their march, searching all the windings of the
shore.
After a walk of twenty minutes the four castaways were suddenly stopped
by a foaming line of breakers. They found themselves upon the extremity
of a sharp point upon which the sea broke with fury.
“This is a promontory,” said the sailor, “and it will be necessary to
turn back, keeping to the right in order to gain the main land.”
“But if he is there!” cried Neb, pointing towards the ocean, whose
enormous waves showed white through the gloom.
“Well, let us call again.”
And all together, uniting their voices, uttered a vigorous cry, but
without response. They waited for a lull, and tried once more. And
again there was no answer.
Then the castaways turned back, following the opposite side of the
promontory over ground equally sandy and rocky. However, Pencroff
observed that the shore was bolder, that the land rose somewhat, and he
thought that it might gradually slope up to the high hill which was
dimly visible through the darkness. The birds were less numerous on
this shore. The sea also seemed less surging and tempestuous, and it
was noticeable that the agitation of the waves was subsiding. They
hardly heard the sound of the surf, and doubtless, this side of the
promontory formed a semi-circular bay, protected by its sharp point
from the long roll of the sea.
But by following this direction they were walking towards the south,
which was going away from that place where Smith would have landed.
After a tramp of a mile and a half, the shore presented no other curve
which would permit of a return towards the north. It was evident that
this promontory, the point of which they had turned, must be joined to
the mainland. The castaways, although much fatigued, pushed on
courageously, hoping each moment to find a sudden turn which would take
them in the desired direction. What, then, was their disappointment
when, after having walked nearly two miles, they found themselves again
arrested by the sea, upon a high promontory of slippery rocks.
“We are on an island,” exclaimed Pencroff; “and we have measured it
from end to end!”
The words of the sailor were true. The castaways had been thrown, not
upon a continent, but upon an island not more than two miles long, and
of inconsiderable breadth.
This desert isle, covered with stones, without vegetation, desolate
refuge of sea-birds, did it belong to a more important archipelago?
They could not tell. The party in the balloon, when from their basket
they saw the land through the clouds, had not been able to determine
its size. But Pencroff, with the eyes of a sailor accustomed to
piercing the gloom, thought, at the moment, that he could distinguish
in the west confused masses, resembling a high coast. But at this time
they were unable, on account of the obscurity, to determine to what
system, whether simple or complex, their isle belonged. They were
unable to get off, as the sea surrounded them, and it was necessary to
wait until the next day to search for the engineer; who, alas! had made
no cry to signal his presence.
“The silence of Cyrus proves nothing,” said the reporter. “He may have
fainted, or be wounded, and unable to reply, but we will not despair.”
The reporter then suggested the idea of lighting a fire upon the point
of the island, which would serve as a signal for the engineer. But they
searched in vain for wood or dry branches. Sand and stones were all
they found.
One can understand the grief of Neb and his companions, who were
strongly attached to their brave comrade. It was too evident that they
could not help him now, and that they must wait till day. The engineer
had escaped, and was already safe upon the land, or he was lost
forever. The hours were long and dreadful, the cold was intense, and
the castaways suffered keenly, but they did not realize it. They did
not think of sleep. Thinking only of their chief, hoping, wishing to
hope, they moved back and forth upon that arid island, constantly
returning to the northern end, where they would be closest to the place
of the catastrophe. They listened, they shouted, they tried to catch
some call, and, as a lull would come, or the roar of the surf fall with
the waves, their hallooes must have sounded far into the distance.
Once the cry of Neb was answered by an echo; and Herbert made Pencroff
notice it, saying:—“That proves that there is land not far to the
west.”
The sailor nodded; he knew his eyes could not deceive him. He thought
he had seen land, and it must be there. But this distant echo was the
only answer to the cries of Neb, and the silence about the island
remained unbroken. Meanwhile the sky was clearing slowly. Towards
midnight, some stars shone out, and, had the engineer been there with
his companions, he would have noticed that these stars did not belong
to the northern hemisphere. The pole star was not visible in this new
horizon, the constellations in the zenith were not such as they had
been accustomed to see from North America, and the Southern Cross shone
resplendent in the heavens.
The night passed; and towards 5 o’clock in the morning the middle
heavens began to brighten, though the horizon remained obscure; until
with the first rays of day, a fog rose from the sea, so dense that the
eye could scarcely penetrate twenty paces into its depths, and
separated into great, heavy-moving masses. This was unfortunate, as the
castaways were unable to distinguish anything about them. While the
gaze of Neb and the reporter was directed towards the sea, the sailor
and Herbert searched for the land in the west; but they could see
nothing.
“Never mind,” said Pencroff, “if I do not see the land. I feel that it
is there,—just as sure as that we are not in Richmond.”
But the fog, which was nothing more than a morning mist, soon rose. A
clear sun warmed the upper air, its heat penetrating to the surface of
the island. At half-past 6, three quarters of an hour after sunrise,
the mist was nearly gone. Though still thick overhead, it dissolved,
below, and soon all the island appeared, as from a cloud. Then the sea
appeared, limitless towards the east, but bounded on the west by a high
and abrupt coast.
Yes, the land was there! There, safety was at least provisionally
assured. The island and the main land were separated by a channel half
a mile wide, through which rushed a strong current. Into this current
one of the party, without saying a word or consulting with his
companions, precipitated himself. It was Neb. He was anxious to be upon
that coast and to be pushing forward towards the north. No one could
keep him back. Pencroff called to him in vain. The reporter prepared to
follow, but the sailor ran to him, exclaiming:—
“Are you determined to cross this channel?”
“I am,” replied Spilett.
“Well, then, listen to me a moment. Neb can rescue his master alone. If
we throw ourselves into the channel we are in danger of being carried
out to sea by this strong current. Now, if I am not mistaken it is
caused by the ebb. You see the tide is going out. Have patience until
low water and then we may ford it.”
“You are right,” answered the reporter; “we will keep together as much
as possible.”
Meantime, Neb was swimming vigorously in a diagonal direction, against
the current; his black shoulders were seen rising with each stroke. He
was drawn backward with swiftness, but he was gaining towards the other
shore. It took him more than half an hour to cross the half mile which
separated the isle from the mainland, and when he reached the other
side it was at a place a long distance from the point opposite to that
which he had left.
Neb, having landed at the base of a high rocky wall, clambered quickly
up its side, and, running, disappeared behind a point projecting into
the sea, about the same height as the northern end of the island.
Neb’s companions had watched with anxiety his daring attempt, and, when
he was out of sight, they fixed their eyes upon that land from which
they were going to demand refuge. They ate some of the shellfish which
they found upon the sands; it was a poor meal, but then it was better
than nothing.
The opposite coast formed an immense bay, terminated to the south by a
sharp point bare of all vegetation, and having a most forbidding
aspect. This point at its junction with the shore was abutted by high
granite rocks. Towards the north, on the contrary, the bay widened,
with a shore more rounded, extending from the southwest to the
northeast, and ending in a narrow cape. Between these two points, the
distance must have been about eight miles. A half mile from the shore
the island, like an enormous whale, lay upon the sea. Its width could
not have been greater than a quarter of a mile.
Before the Island, the shore began with a sandy beach strewn with black
rocks, at this moment beginning to appear above the receding tide.
Beyond this rose, like a curtain, a perpendicular granite wall, at
least 300 feet high and terminated by a ragged edge. This extended for
about three miles, ending abruptly on the right in a smooth face, as if
cut by the hand of man. To the left on the contrary, above the
promontory, this kind of irregular cliff, composed of heaped-up rocks
and glistening in the light, sank and gradually mingled with the rocks
of the southern point.
Upon the upper level of the coast not a tree was visible. It was a
table-land, as barren though not as extensive as that around Cape Town,
or at the Cape of Good Hope. At least so it appeared from the islet. To
the right, however, and back of the smooth face of rock, some verdure
appeared. The confused massing of large trees was easily
distinguishable extending far as the eye could reach. This verdure
gladdened the sight tired by the rough face of granite. Finally, back
of and above the plateau, distant towards the northwest about seven
miles, shone a white summit, reflecting the sun’s rays. It was the
snowy cap of some lofty mountain.
It was not possible at present to say whether this land was an island
or part of a continent; but the sight of the broken rocks heaped
together on the left would have proved to a geologist their volcanic
origin, as they were incontestably the result of igneous action.
Gideon Spilett, Pencroff, and Herbert looked earnestly upon this land
where they were to live, perhaps for long years; upon which, if out of
the track of ships, they might have to die.
“Well,” demanded Herbert, “what do you think of it, Pencroff?”
“Well,” replied the sailor, “there’s good and bad in it, as with
everything else. But we shall soon see; for look; what I told you. In
three hours we can cross, and once over there, we will see what we can
do towards finding Mr. Smith.”
Pencroff was not wrong in his predictions. Three hours later, at low
tide, the greater part of the sandy bed of the channel was bare. A
narrow strip of water, easily crossed, was all that separated the
island from the shore. And at 10 o’clock, Spilett and his two
companions, stripped of their clothing, which they carried in packages
on their heads, waded through the water, which was nowhere more than
five feet deep. Herbert, where the water was too deep, swam like a
fish, acquitting himself well; and all arrived without difficulty at
the other shore. There, having dried themselves in the sun, they put on
their clothes, which had not touched the water, and took counsel
together.