SEVERAL DEGREES BELOW ZERO—EXPLORATION OF THE SWAMP REGION TO THE
SOUTHEAST—THE VIEW OF THE SEA—A CONVERSATION CONCERNING THE FUTURE OF
THE PACIFIC OCEAN—THE INCESSANT LABOR OF THE INFUSORIA—WHAT WILL BECOME
OF THIS GLOBE—THE CHASE—THE SWAMP OF THE TADORNS.
From this moment Pencroff did not let a day pass without visiting what
he called with perfect gravity, his “corn field.” And alas, for any
insects that ventured there, no mercy would be shown them. Near the end
of the month of June, after the interminable rains, the weather became
decidedly cold, and on the 29th, a Fahrenheit thermometer would
certainly have stood at only 20° above zero.
The next day, the 30th of June, the day which corresponds to the 3lst
of December in the Northern Hemisphere, was a Friday. Neb said the year
ended on an unlucky day, but Pencroff answered that consequently the
new year began on a lucky one, which was more important. At all events,
it began with a very cold snap. Ice accumulated at the mouth of the
Mercy, and the whole surface of the lake was soon frozen over.
Fresh firewood had continually to be procured. Pencroff had not waited
for the river to freeze to convey enormous loads of wood to their
destination. The current was a tireless motor, and conveyed the
floating wood until the ice froze around it. To the fuel, which the
forest so plentifully furnished, were added several cartloads of coal,
which they found at the foot of the spurs of Mount Franklin. The
powerful heat from the coal was thoroughly appreciated in a temperature
which on the 4th of July fell to eight degrees above zero. A second
chimney had been set up in the dining-room, where they all worked
together. During this cold spell Cyrus Smith could not be thankful
enough that he had conducted to Granite House a small stream of water
from Lake Grant. Taken below the frozen surface, then conducted through
the old weir, it arrived unfrozen at the interior reservoir, which had
been dug at the angle of the storehouse, and which, when too full,
emptied itself into the sea. About this time the weather being very
dry, the colonists, dressing as warmly as possible, determined to
devote a day to the exploration of that part of the island situated to
the southeast, between the Mercy and Claw Cape. It was a large swampy
district and might offer good hunting, as aquatic birds must abound
there. They would have eight or nine miles to go and as far to return,
consequently the whole day must be given up. As it concerned the
exploration of an unknown portion of the island, every one had to take
part.
Therefore, on the 5th of July, at 6 o’clock in the morning, before the
sun had fairly risen, the whole party, armed with spears, snares, bows
and arrows, and furnished with enough provisions for the day, started
from Granite House, preceded by Top, who gambolled before them. They
took the shortest route, which was to cross the Mercy on the blocks of
ice which then obstructed it.
“But,” as the reporter very truly observed, “this cannot supply the
place of a real bridge.”
So the construction of a “real” bridge was set down as work for the
future. This was the first time that the colonists had set foot on the
right bank of the Mercy and had plunged into the forest of large and
magnificent firs, then covered with snow. But they had not gone half a
mile when the barking of Top frightened from a dense thicket where they
had taken up their abode, a whole family of quadrupeds.
“Why they look like foxes,” said Herbert, when he saw them scampering
quickly away.
And they were foxes, but foxes of enormous size. They made a sort of
bark which seemed to astonish Top, for he stopped in his chase and gave
these swift animals time to escape. The dog had a right to be
surprised, for he knew nothing of natural history; but by this barking,
the greyish-red color of their hair, and their black tails, which ended
in a white tuft, these foxes had betrayed their origin. So Herbert gave
them without hesitation their true name of culpeux. These culpeux are
often met with in Chili, in the Saint Malo group, and in all those
parts of America lying between the 30th and 40th parallels.
Herbert was very sorry that Top had not caught one of these carnivora.
“Can we eat them?” asked Pencroff, who always considered the fauna of
the island from that special point of view.
“No,” said Herbert, “but zoologists have not yet ascertained whether
the pupil of the eye of this fox is diurnal or nocturnal, or whether
the animal would come under the genus “canine.”
Smith could not help smiling at this remark of the boy, which showed
thoughtfulness beyond his years. As for the sailor, from the moment
these foxes ceased to belong to the edible species, they ceased to
interest him. Ever since the kitchen had been established at Granite
House he had been saying that precautions ought to be taken against
these four-footed plunderers. A fact which no one denied.
Having turned Jetsam Point the party came upon a long reach washed by
the sea. It was then 8 o’clock in the morning. The sky was very clear,
as is usual in prolonged cold weather; but, warmed by their work, Smith
and his companions did not suffer from the sharpness of the atmosphere.
Besides, there was no wind, the absence of which always renders a low
temperature more endurable. The sun, bright but cold, rose from the
ocean, and his enormous disc was poised in the horizon. The sea was a
calm, blue sheet of water, like a land-locked sea under a clear sky.
Claw Cape, bent in the shape of an ataghan, was clearly defined about
four miles to the southeast. To the left, the border of the swamp was
abruptly intercepted by a little point which shone brightly against the
sun. Certainly in that part of Union Bay, which was not protected from
the open sea, even by a sand bank, ships beaten by an east wind could
not have found shelter.
By the perfect calm of the sea, with no shoals to disturb its waters,
by its uniform color, with no tinge of yellow, and, finally, by the
entire absence of reefs, they knew that this side was steep, and that
here the ocean was fathoms deep. Behind them, in the west, at a
distance of about four miles, they saw the beginning of the Forests of
the Far West. They could almost have believed themselves upon some
desolate island in the Antarctic regions surrounded by ice.
The party halted here for breakfast; a fire of brushwood and seaweed
was lighted, and Neb prepared the meal of cold meat, to which he added
some cups of Oswego tea. While eating they looked around them. This
side of Lincoln island was indeed barren, and presented a strong
contrast to the western part.
The reporter thought that if the castaways had been thrown upon this
coast, they would have had a very melancholy impression of their future
home.
“I do not believe we could even have reached it,” said the engineer,
“for the sea is very deep here, and there is not even a rock which
would have served as a refuge; before Granite House there were shoals,
at least, and a little island which multiplied our chances of safety;
here is only the bottomless sea.”
“It is curious enough,” said Spilett, “that this island, relatively so
small, presents so varied a soil. This diversity of appearance belongs,
logically, only to continents of a considerable area. One would really
think that the western side of Lincoln Island, so rich and fertile, was
washed by the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and that the northern
and southern coasts extended into a sort of Arctic Sea.”
“You are right, my dear Spilett,” replied the engineer, “I have
observed the same thing. I have found this island curious both in its
shape and in its character. It has all the peculiarities of a
continent, and I would not be surprised if it had been a continent
formerly.”
“What! a continent in the middle of the Pacific!” cried Pencroff.
“Why not?” answered Smith. “Why should not Australia, New Ireland, all
that the English geographers call Australasia, joined to the
Archipelagoes of the Pacific Ocean, have formed in times past a sixth
part of the world as important as Europe or Asia, Africa or the two
Americas. My mind does not refuse to admit that all the islands rising
from this vast ocean are the mountains of a continent now engulphed,
but which formerly rose majestically from these waters.”
“Like Atlantis?” asked Herbert. “Yes. my boy, if that ever existed.”
“And Lincoln Island may have been a part of this continent?” asked
Pencroff. “It is probable,” replied Smith. “And that would explain the
diversity of products upon the surface, and the number of animals which
still live here,” added Herbert.
“Yes, my boy,” answered the engineer, “and that gives me a new argument
in support of my theory. It is certain after what we have seen that the
animals in the island are numerous, and what is more curious, is that
the species are extremely varied. There must be a reason for this, and
mine is, that Lincoln Island was formerly a part of some vast
continent, which has, little by little, sunk beneath the surface of the
Pacific.” “Then,” said Pencroff, who did not seem entirely convinced,
“what remains of this old continent may disappear in its turn and leave
nothing between America and Asia.” “Yes,” said Smith, “there will be
new continents which millions upon millions of animalculæ are building
at this moment.” “And who are these masons?” inquired Pencroff. “The
coral insects,” answered Smith. “It is these who have built by their
constant labor the Island of Clermont Tonnerre, the Atolls and many
other coral islands which abound in the Pacific. It takes 47,000,000 of
these insects to deposit one particle; and yet with the marine salt
which they absorb, and the solid elements of the water which they
assimilate, these animalculæ produce limestone, and limestone forms
those enormous submarine structures whose hardness and solidity is
equal to that of granite.
Formerly, during the first epochs of creation, Nature employed heat to
produce land by upheaval, but now she lets these microscopic insects
replace this agent, whose dynamic power at the interior of this globe
has evidently diminished. This fact is sufficiently proved by the great
number of volcanoes actually extinct on the surface of the earth. I
verily believe that century after century, and infusoria after
infusoria will change the Pacific some day into a vast continent, which
new generations will, in their turn, inhabit and civilize.”
“It will take a long time,” said Pencroff. “Nature has time on her
side,” replied the engineer. “But what is the good of new continents?”
asked Herbert. “It seems to me that the present extent of habitable
countries is enough for mankind. Now Nature does nothing in vain.”
“Nothing in vain, indeed,” replied the engineer; “but let us see how we
can explain the necessity of new continents in the future, and
precisely in these tropical regions occupied by these coral islands.
Here is an explanation, which seems to me at least plausible.”
“We are listening, Mr. Smith,” replied Herbert.
“This is my idea: Scientists generally admit that some day the globe
must come to an end, or rather the animal and vegetable life will be no
longer possible, on account of the intense cold which will prevail.
What they cannot agree upon is the cause of this cold. Some think that
it will be produced by the cooling of the sun in the course of millions
of years; others by the gradual extinction of the internal fires of our
own globe, which have a more decided influence than is generally
supposed. I hold to this last hypothesis, based upon the fact that the
moon is without doubt a refrigerated planet, which is no longer
habitable, although the sun continues to pour upon its surface the same
amount of heat. If then, the moon is refrigerated, it is because these
internal fires, to which like all the stellar world it owes its origin,
are entirely extinct. In short, whatever be the cause, our world will
certainly some day cool; but this cooling will take place gradually.
What will happen then? Why, the temperate zones, at a time more or less
distant, will be no more habitable than are the Polar regions now. Then
human, as well as animal life, will be driven to latitudes more
directly under the influence of the solar rays. An immense emigration
will take place. Europe, Central Asia, and North America will little by
little be abandoned, as well as Australasia and the lower parts of
South America. Vegetation will follow the human emigration. The flora
will move towards the equator at the same time with the fauna, the
central parts of South America and Africa will become the inhabited
continent. The Laplanders and the Samoyedes will find the climate of
the Polar Sea on the banks of the Mediterranean. Who can tell but that
at this epoch, the equatorial regions will not be too small to contain
and nourish the population of the globe. Now, why should not a
provident nature, in order from this time, to provide a refuge for this
animal and vegetable emigration, lay the foundation, under the equator,
of a new continent, and charge these infusoria with the building of it?
I have often thought of this, my friends, and I seriously believe that,
some day, the aspect of our globe will be completely transformed, that
after the upheaval of new continents the seas will cover the old ones,
and that in future ages some Columbus will discover in the islands of
Chimborazo or the Himalaya, or Mount Blanc, all that remains of an
America, an Asia, and a Europe. Then at last, these new continents, in
their turn, will become uninhabitable. The heat will die out as does
the heat from a body whose soul has departed, and life will disappear
from the globe, if not forever, at least for a time. Perhaps then our
sphere will rest from its changes, and will prepare in death to live
again under nobler conditions.
“But all this my friends, is with the Creator of all things. From the
talking of the work of these infusoria I have been led into too deep a
scrutiny of the secrets of the future.”
“My dear Cyrus,” said the reporter, “these theories are to me
prophesies. Some day they will be accomplished.”
“It is a secret with the Almighty,” replied Smith.
“All this is well and good,” said Pencroff, who had listened with all
his ears, “but will you tell me, Mr. Smith, if Lincoln Island has been
constructed by these infusoria.”
“No,” replied Smith, “it is of purely volcanic origin.”
“Then it will probably disappear some day. I hope sincerely we won’t be
here.”
“No, be easy, Pencroff, we will get away.”
“In the meantime,” said Spilett, “let us settle ourselves as if
forever. It is never worth while to do anything by halves.”
This ended the conversation. Breakfast was over, the exploration
continued, and the party soon arrived at the beginning of the swampy
district.
It was, indeed, a marsh which extended as far as the rounded side
forming the southeastern termination of the island, and measuring
twenty square miles. The soil was formed of a silicious clay mixed with
decayed vegetation. It was covered by confervæ, rushes, sedges, and
here and there by beds of herbage, thick as a velvet carpet. In many
places frozen pools glistened under the sun’s rays. Neither rains, nor
any river swollen by a sudden increase could have produced this water.
One would naturally conclude that this swamp was fed by the
infiltration of water through the soil. And this was the fact. It was
even to be feared that the air here during hot weather, was laden with
that miasma which engenders the marsh fever. Above the aquatic herbs on
the surface of the stagnant waters, a swarm of birds were flying. A
hunter would not have lost a single shot. Wild ducks, teal, and snipe
lived there in flocks, and it was easy to approach these fearless
creatures. So thick were these birds that a charge of shot would
certainly have brought down a dozen of them, but our friends had to
content themselves with their bows and arrows. The slaughter was less,
but the quiet arrow had the advantage of not frightening the birds,
while the sound of fire-arms would have scattered them to every corner
of the swamp. The hunters contented themselves this time with a dozen
ducks, with white bodies, cinnamon-colored belts, green heads, wings
black, white, and red, and feathered beaks. These Herbert recognized as
the “Tadorns.” Top did his share well in the capture of these birds,
whose name was given this swampy district.
The colonists now had an abundant reserve of aquatic game. When the
time should come the only question would be how to make a proper use of
them, and it was probable that several species of these birds would be,
if not domesticated, at least acclimated, upon the borders of the lake,
which would bring them nearer to the place of consumption.
About 5 o’clock in the afternoon Smith and his companions turned their
faces homewards. They crossed Tadorn’s Fens, and re-crossed the Mercy
upon the ice, arriving at Granite House at 8 o’clock in the evening.