The directions of the engineer were followed, and while the reporter

and the lad, who were the best shots in the party, took their

positions, the others went over the plateau to the forest to shoot some

game, as it was breakfast time and they had no food.

In half an hour the hunters returned with some wild pigeons, which

would be pretty good roasted. Not a monkey had shown itself.

Spilett and Herbert went to their breakfast, while Top kept watch under

the windows. Then they returned to their post. Two hours later the

situation was unchanged. The quadrumana gave no sign of existence, and

it seemed as if they must have disappeared; but it was more likely

that, frightened by the death of one of their number and the

detonations of the guns, they kept themselves hidden in the chambers or

the store-room of Granite House. And, when the colonists thought of all

that was stored in this latter room, the patience which the engineer

had recommended turned into irritation, and indeed they could not be

blamed for it.

“It is too bad!” exclaimed the reporter, at length; “and is there no

way we can put an end to this?”

“We must make these beggars give up!” cried Pencroff. “We can readily

do it, even if there are twenty of them, in a hand-to hand fight! Oh,

is there no way we can get at them?”

“Yes,” replied Smith, struck by an idea.

“Only one?” rejoined Pencroff. “Well, that’s better than none at all.

What is it?”

“Try to get into Granite House by the old weir,” answered the engineer.

“Why in the mischief didn’t I think of that!” cried the sailor.

This was, indeed, the only way to get into Granite House, in order to

fight the band and drive them out. It is true that, if they tore down

the cemented wall which closed the weir, the work would have all to be

done over again; but, fortunately, Smith had not yet effected his

design of hiding this opening by covering it again with the lake, as

that operation necessitated a good deal of time.

It was already past noon when the colonists, well armed and furnished

with picks and mattocks, left the Chimneys, passed under the windows of

Granite House, and, having ordered Top to remain at his post, made

ready to climb the left bank of the Mercy, so as to reach Prospect

Plateau. But they had hardly gone fifty paces, when they heard the loud

barkings of the dog, as if making a desperate appeal. All halted.

“Let us run back,” cried Pencroff. And all did as proposed as fast as

possible.

Arrived at the turn, the whole situation was changed. The monkeys,

seized with a sudden fright, startled by some unknown cause, were

trying to escape. Two or three were running and springing from window

to window, with the agility of clowns. In their fright they seemed to

have forgotten to replace the ladder, by which they could easily have

descended. In a moment half a dozen were in such a position that they

could be shot, and the colonists, taking aim, fired. Some fell, wounded

or killed, within the chambers, uttering sharp cries. Others, falling

to the ground without, were crushed by the fall, and a few moments

afterwards it seemed as if there was not one living quadrumana in

Granite House.

“Hurrah,” said Pencroff, “hurrah, hurrah!”

“Don’t cheer yet,” saidSpilett.

“Why not,” asked Pencroff. “Ain’t they all killed.”

“Doubtless: but that does not give us the means of getting in.”

“Let us go the weir!” exclaimed Pencroff.

“We will have to,” said the engineer. “Nevertheless it would have been

preferable—”

And at the instant, as if in answer to the observation of the engineer,

they saw the ladder slide over the door-sill and roll over to the

ground.

“By the thousand pipes, but that is lucky!” cried Pencroff, looking at

Smith.

“Too lucky!” muttered Smith, springing up the ladder.

“Take care, Mr. Smith!” exclaimed Pencroff, “if there should be any

sojourners—”

“We will soon see,” responded the other.

All his companions followed him and in a moment were within the

doorway.

They searched everywhere. No one was in the chambers or in the

storeroom, which remained undisturbed by the quadrumana.

“And the ladder,” said Pencroff; “where is the gentleman who pushed it

down to us?”

But just then a cry was heard, and a huge monkey, that had taken refuge

in the corridor, sprang into the great hall, followed by Neb.

“Ah, the thief!” cried Pencroff, about to spring with his hatchet at

the head of the animal, when Smith stopped him.

“Spare it, Pencroff.”

“What, spare this black ape?”

“Yes, it is he that has thrown us the ladder,” said the engineer, in a

voice so strange, that it was hard to say whether he was in earnest or

not.

Nevertheless, all threw themselves on the monkey, which, after a brave

resistance, was thrown down and tied.

“Ugh!” exclaimed Pencroff; “and now what will we do with it?”

“Make a servant of it,” answered Herbert, half in earnest, as the lad

knew how great was the intelligence of this race of quadrumana.

The colonists gathered round the monkey and examined it attentively. It

appeared to belong to that species of anthropomorphi in which the

facial angle is not visibly inferior to that of the Australians or

Hottentots. He was an orang of the kind which has neither the ferocity

of the baboon nor the macauco, nor the thoughtlessness of the sagoin,

nor the impatience of the magot, nor the bad instincts of the

cynocephalous. It was of a family of anthropomorphi which has traits

indicating a half-human intelligence. Employed in houses, they can wait

on the table, do chamber-work, brush clothes, black boots, clean the

knives and forks, and—empty the bottles, as well as the best trained

flunkey. Buffon possessed one of these monkeys, which served him a long

time as a zealous and faithful servant.

The one at present tied in the hall of Granite House was a big fellow,

six feet high, deep-chested, and finely built, a medium-sized head,

with a sharp facial angle, a well-rounded skull, and a prominent nose,

and a skin covered with smooth hair, soft and shining,—in short, a

finished type of anthropomorphi. Its eyes, somewhat smaller than those

of a human being, sparkled with intelligence; its teeth glistened

beneath its moustache, and it wore a small nut-brown beard.

“He is a fine chap,” said Pencroff. “If we only understood his

language, one might talk with him!”

“Then,” said Neb, “are they in earnest, my master? Will we take it as a

domestic?”

“Yes, Neb,” said the engineer, smiling. “But you need not be jealous.”

“And I hope it will make an excellent servant. As it is young its

education will be easy, and we will not have to use force to make it

mind, nor to pull out its teeth as is sometimes done. It cannot fail to

become attached to masters who only treat it well.”

“And we will do that,” said Pencroff, who having forgotten his recent

wrath against the “jokers,” approached the orang and accosted him

with:—

“Hullo, my boy, how goes it?”

The orang responded with a little grunt, which seemed to denote a not

bad temper.

“You want to join the colony, do you? Would you like to enter the

service of Mr. Smith?”

The monkey gave another affirmative grunt.

“And you’ll be satisfied with your board as wages?”

A third affirmative grunt.

“His conversation is a little monotonous,” observed Spilett.

“Well,” replied Pencroff, “the best domestics are those that speak

least. And then, no wages! Do you hear, my boy? At first we give you no

wages, but we will double them later, if you suit us!”

Thus the colonists added to their number one who had already done them

a service. As to a name, the sailor asked that he should be called, in

remembrance of another monkey, Jupiter, or by abbreviation, Jup. And

thus, without more ado, Master Jup was installed in Granite House.

CHAPTER XXIX.

PROJECTS TO BE CARRIED OUT—A BRIDGE OVER THE MERCY—TO MAKE AN ISLAND OF

PROSPECT PLATEAU—THE DRAW-BRIDGE—THE CORN HARVEST—THE STREAM—THE

CAUSEWAY—THE POULTRY YARD—THE PIGEON-HOUSE—THE TWO WILD ASSES—HARNESSED

TO THE WAGON—EXCURSION TO BALLOON HARBOR.

The colonists had now reconquered their domicile without having been

obliged to follow the weir. It was, indeed, fortunate, that at the

moment they decided to destroy their masonry, the band of monkeys,

struck by a terror not less sudden than inexplicable, had rushed from

Granite House. Had these animals a presentiment that a dangerous attack

was about to be made on them from another direction? This was the only

way to account for their retreat.

The rest of the day was occupied in carrying the dead monkeys to the

wood and burying them there, and in repairing the disorder made by the

intruders,—disorder and not damage, as, though they had upset the

furniture in the rooms, they had broken nothing. Neb rekindled the

range, and the supply in the pantry furnished a substantial repast that

was duly honored.

Jup was not forgotten, and he ate with avidity the pistachio nuts and

the roots of the sumach, with which he saw himself abundantly provided.

Pencroff had unfastened his arms, although he thought it best to keep

the monkey’s legs bound until they could be sure he had surrendered.

Seated at the table, before going to bed, Smith and his companions

discussed three projects, the execution of which was urgent. The most

important and the most pressing was the establishment of a bridge

across the Mercy, then the building of a corral, designed for the

accommodation of moufflons or other woolly animals which they had

agreed to capture. These two plans tended to solve the question of

clothing, which was then the most serious question.

It was Smith’s intention to establish this corral at the sources of Red

Creek, where there was abundant pasturage. Already the path between

there and Prospect Plateau was partially cleared, and with a better

constructed cart, carriage would be easy, especially if they should

capture some animal that could draw it.

But while it would not be inconvenient to have the corral some distance

from Granite House, it was different with the poultry-yard, to which

Neb called attention. It was necessary that the “chickens” should be at

the hand of the cook, and no place seemed more favorable for an

establishment of this kind than that portion of the lake shore

bordering on the former weir. The aquatic birds also would thrive

there, and the pair of tinamons, taken in the last excursion, would

serve as a beginning.

The next day—the 3d of November—work was begun on the bridge, and all

hands were required on the important undertaking. Laden with tools the

colonists descended to the shore.

Here Pencroff reflected as follows:—

“Supposing while we are away Master Jup takes the notion of hauling up

the ladder, which he so gallantly unrolled for us yesterday.”

“We would be dependent on his tail!” answered Spilett.

The ladder was therefore made fast to two stakes driven firmly into the

ground. The colonists ascended the river, and soon arrived at its

narrow bend, where they halted to examine whether the bridge could not

be thrown across at this place. The situation was suitable, as from

this point to Balloon Harbor the distance was three miles and a half,

and a wagon road connecting Granite House with the southern part of the

island, could easily be constructed.

Then Smith communicated to his companions a project which he had had in

view for some time. This was to completely isolate Prospect Plateau, so

as to protect it from all attacks of quadrupeds or quadrumana. By this

means Granite House, the Chimneys, the poultry yard, and all the upper

part of the plateau destined for sowing would be protected against the

depredations of animals.

Nothing could be easier than to do this, and the engineer proposed to

accomplish it as follows:—The plateau was already protected on three

sides by either natural or artificial water courses. On the northwest,

by the bank of Lake Grant, extending from the angle against the former

weir to the cut made in the east bank to draw off the water. On the

north, by this new water course which had worn itself a bed both above

and below the fall, which could be dug out sufficiently to render the

passage impracticable to animals. And upon the east, by the sea itself,

from the mouth of this new creek to the mouth of the Mercy. Therefore

the only part remaining open was the western part of the plateau

included between the bend in the river and the southern angle of the

lake, a distance of leas than a mile. But nothing could be easier than

to dig a ditch, wide and deep, which would be filled from the lake, and

flow into the Mercy. Doubtless the level of the lake would be lowered

somewhat by this new drain on its resources, but Smith had assured

himself that the flow of Red Creek was sufficient for his purpose.

“Thus,” added the engineer, “Prospect Plateau will be a veritable

island, unconnected with the rest of our domain, save by the bridge

which we will throw over the Mercy, by the two causeways already built

above and below the fall, and by the two others which are to be

constructed, one over the proposed ditch, and the other over the left

bank of the Mercy. Now if this bridge and the causeways can be raised

at will, Prospect Plateau will be secured from surprise.”

Smith, in order to make his companions comprehend clearly his plans,

had made a plot of the plateau, and his project was rendered perfectly

plain. It met with unanimous approval; and Pencroff, brandishing his

hatchet, exclaimed:—

“And first, for the bridge!”

This work was the most urgent. Trees were selected, felled, lopped, and

cut into beams, planks, and boards. The bridge was to be stationary on

the right bank of the Mercy, but on the left it was to be so

constructed as to raise by means of counterweights, as in some

draw-bridges.

It will be seen that this work, even if it could be easily

accomplished, would take considerable time, as the Mercy was eighty

feet wide at this point. It was first necessary to drive piles in the

bed of the river, to sustain the flooring of the bridge, and to set up

a pile-driver to drive the piles, so as to form two arches capable of

supporting heavy weights.

Fortunately they lacked neither the necessary tools for preparing the

timber, nor the iron work, to bind it together, nor the ingenuity of a

man who was an adept at this sort of work, nor, finally, the zeal of

his companions who in these seven months had necessarily acquired

considerable manual skill. And it should be added that Spilett began to

do nearly as well as the sailor himself “who would never have expected

so much from a newspaper man!”

It took three weeks of steady work to build this bridge. And as the

weather was fine they lunched on the ground, and only returned to

Granite House for supper.

During this period it was observed that Master Jup took kindly to and

familiarized himself with his new masters, whom he watched with the

greatest curiosity. Nevertheless, Pencroff was careful not to give him

complete liberty until the limits of the plateau had been rendered

impassible. Top and he were the best possible friends, and got on

capitally together although Jup took everything gravely.

The bridge was finished on the 20th of November. The movable part

balanced perfectly with the counterpoise, and needed but little effort

to raise it; between the hinge and crossbeam on which the draw rested

when closed, the distance was twenty feet, a gap sufficiently wide to

prevent animals from getting across.

It was next proposed to go for the envelope of the balloon, which the

colonists were anxious to place in safety; but in order to bring it,

the cart would have to be dragged to Balloon Harbor, necessitating the

breaking of a road through the dense underwood of the Far West, all of

which would take time. Therefore Neb and Pencroff made an excursion to

the harbor, and as they reported that the supply of cloth was well

protected in the cave, it was decided that the works about the plateau

should not be discontinued.

“This,” said Pencroff, “will enable us to establish the poultry-yard

under the most advantageous conditions, since we need have no fear of

the visits of foxes or other noxious animals.”

“And also,” added Neb, “we can clear the plateau, and transplant wild

plants”—

“And make ready our second corn-field,” continued the sailor with a

triumphant air.

Indeed the first corn-field, sowed with a single grain, had prospered

admirably, thanks to the care of Pencroff. It had produced the ten ears

foretold by the engineer, and as each ear had eighty grains, the

colonists found themselves possessed of 800 grains—in six months—which

promised them a double harvest each year. These 800 grains, excepting

fifty which it was prudent to reserve, were now about to be sowed in a

new field with as much care as the first solitary specimen.

The field was prepared, and inclosed with high, sharp-pointed

palisades, which quadrupeds would have found very difficult to

surmount. As to the birds, the noisy whirligigs and astonishing

scarecrows, the product of Pencroff’s genius, were enough to keep them

at a distance. Then the 750 grains were buried in little hills,

regularly disposed, and Nature was left to do the rest.

On the 21st of November, Smith began laying out the ditch which was to

enclose the plateau on the west. There were two or three feet of

vegetable earth, and beneath that the granite. It was, therefore,

necessary to manufacture some more nitro-glycerine, and the

nitro-glycerine had its accustomed effect. In less than a fortnight a

ditch, twelve feet wide and six feet deep was excavated in the plateau.

A new outlet was in like manner made in the rocky border of the lake,

and the waters rushed into this new channel, forming a small stream, to

which they gave the name of Glycerine Creek. As the engineer had

foreseen the level of the lake was lowered but very slightly. Finally,

for completing the enclosure, the bed of the stream across the beach

was considerably enlarged, and the sand was kept up by a double

palisade.

By the middle of December all these works were completed, and Prospect

Plateau, shaped something like an irregular pentagon, having a

perimeter of about four miles, was encircled with a liquid belt, making

it absolutely safe from all aggression.

During this month the heat was very great. Nevertheless, the colonists,

not wishing to cease work, proceeded to construct the poultry-yard.

Jup, who since the enclosing of the plateau had been given his liberty,

never quitted his masters nor manifested the least desire to escape. He

was a gentle beast, though possessing immense strength and wonderful

agility. No one could go up the ladder to Granite House as he could.

Already he was given employment; he was instructed to fetch wood and

carry off the stones which had been taken from the bed of Glycerine

Creek.

“Although he’s not yet a mason, he is already a ‘monkey,’“ said

Herbert, making a joking allusion to the nickname masons give their

apprentices. And if ever a name was well applied, it was so in this

instance!

The poultry-yard occupied an area of 200 square yards on the southeast

bank of the lake. It was enclosed with a palisade, and within were

separate divisions for the proposed inhabitants, and huts of branches

divided into compartments awaiting their occupants.

The first was the pair of tinamons, who were not long in breeding

numerous little ones. They had for companions half-a-dozen ducks, who

were always by the water-side. Some of these belonged to that Chinese

variety whose wings open like a fan, and whose plumage rivals in

brilliance that of the golden pheasant. Some days later, Herbert caught

a pair of magnificent curassows, birds of the gallinaceæ family, with

long rounding tails. These soon bred others, and as to the pellicans,

the kingfishers, the moorhens, they came of themselves to the

poultry-yard. And soon, all this little world, after some disputing,

cooing, scolding, clucking, ended by agreeing and multiplying at a rate

sufficient for the future wants of the colony.

Smith, in order to complete his work, established a pigeon-house in the

corner of the poultry-yard, and placed therein a dozen wild pigeons.

These birds readily habituated themselves to their new abode, and

returned there each evening, showing a greater propensity to

domestication than the wood pigeons, their congeners, which do not

breed except in a savage state.

And now the time was come to make use of the envelope in the

manufacture of clothing, for to keep it intact in order to attempt to

leave the island by risking themselves in a balloon filled with heated

air over a sea, which might be called limitless, was only to be thought

of by men deprived of all other resources, and Smith, being eminently

practical, did not dream of such a thing.

It was necessary to bring the envelope to Granite House, and the

colonists busied themselves in making their heavy cart less unwieldly

and lighter. But though the vehicle was provided, the motor was still

to be found! Did not there exist in the island some ruminant of

indiginous species which could replace the horse, ass, ox, or cow? That

was the question.

“Indeed,” said Pencroff, “a draught animal would be very useful to us,

while we are waiting until Mr. Smith is ready to build a steam-wagon or

a locomotive, though doubtless, some day we will have a railway to

Balloon Harbor, with a branch road up Mount Franklin!”

And the honest sailor, in talking thus, believed what he said. Such is

the power of imagination combined with faith!

But, in truth, an animal capable of being harnessed would have just

suited Pencroff, and as Fortune favored him, she did not let him want.

One day, the 23d of December, the colonists, busy at the Chimneys,

heard Neb crying and Top barking in such emulation, that dreading some

terrible accident, they ran to them.

What did they see? Two large, beautiful animals, which had imprudently

ventured upon the plateau, the causeways not having been closed. They

seemed like two horses, or rather two asses, male and female, finely

shaped, of a light bay color, striped with black on the head, neck, and

body, and with white legs and tail. They advanced tranquilly, without

showing any fear, and looked calmly on these men in whom they had not

yet recognized their masters.

“They are onagers,” cried Herbert. “Quadrupeds of a kind between the

zebra and the quagga.”

“Why aren’t they asses?” asked Neb.

“Because they have not long ears, and their forms are more graceful.”

“Asses or horses,” added Pencroff—“they are what Mr. Smith would call

“motors,” and it will be well to capture them!”

The sailor, without startling the animals, slid through the grass to

the causeway over Glycerine Creek, raised it, and the onagers were

prisoners. Should they be taken by violence, and made to submit to a

forced domestication? No. It was decided that for some days they would

let these animals wander at will over the plateau where the grass was

abundant, and a stable was at once constructed near to the poultry-yard

in which the onagers would find a good bedding, and a refuge for the

night.

The fine pair were thus left entirely at liberty, and the colonists

avoided approaching them. In the meantime the onagers often tried to

quit the plateau, which was too confined for them, accustomed to wide

ranges and deep forests. The colonists saw them following around the

belt of water impossible to cross, whinnying and galloping over the

grass, and then resting quietly for hours regarding the deep woods from

which they were shut off.

In the meantime, harness had been made from vegetable fibres, and some

days after the capture of the onagers, not only was the cart ready, but

a road, or rather a cut, had been made through the forest all the way

from the bend in the Mercy to Balloon Harbor. They could therefore get

to this latter place with the cart, and towards the end of the month

the onagers were tried for the first time.

Pencroff had already coaxed these animals so that they ate from his

hand, and he could approach them without difficulty, but, once

harnessed, they reared and kicked, and were with difficulty kept from

breaking loose, although it was not long before they submitted to this

new service.

This day, every one except Pencroff, who walked beside his team, rode

in the cart to Balloon Harbor. They were jolted about a little over

this rough road, but the cart did not break down, and they were able to

load it, the same day, with the envelope and the appurtenances to the

balloon.

By 8 o’clock in the evening, the cart, having recrossed the bridge,

followed down the bank of the Mercy and stopped on the beach. The

onagers were unharnessed, placed in the stable, and Pencroff, before

sleeping, gave a sigh of satisfaction that resounded throughout Granite

House.

CHAPTER XXX.

CLOTHING—SEAL-SKIN BOOTS—MAKING PYROXYLINE—PLANTING—THE FISH—TURTLES’

EGGS—JUP’S EDUCATION—THE CORRAL-HUNTING MOUFFLONS—OTHER USEFUL ANIMALS

AND VEGETABLES—HOME THOUGHTS.

The first week In January was devoted to making clothing. The needles

found in the box were plied by strong, if not supple fingers, and what

was sewed, was sewed strongly. Thread was plenty, as Smith had thought

of using again that with which the strips of the balloon had been

fastened together. These long bands had been carefully unripped by

Spilett and Herbert with commendable patience, since Pencroff had

thrown aside the work, which bothered him beyond measure; but when it

came to sewing again the sailor was unequalled.

The varnish was then removed from the cloth by means of soda procured

as before, and the cloth was afterwards bleached in the sun. Some

dozens of shirts and socks—the latter, of course, not knitted, but made

of sewed strips—were thus made. How happy it made the colonists to be

clothed again in white linen—linen coarse enough, it is true, but they

did not mind that—and to lie between sheets, which transformed the

banks of Granite House into real beds! About this time they also made

boots from seal leather, which were a timely substitute for those

brought from America. They were long and wide enough, and never pinched

the feet of the pedestrians.

In the beginning of the year (1866) the hot weather was incessant, but

the hunting in the woods, which fairly swarmed with birds and beasts,

continued; and Spilett and Herbert were too good shots to waste powder.

Smith had recommended them to save their ammunition, and that they

might keep it for future use the engineer took measures to replace it

by substances easily renewable. How could he tell what the future might

have in store for them in case they left the island? It behooved them,

therefore, to prepare for all emergencies.

As Smith had not discovered any lead in the island he substituted iron

shot, which were easily made. As they were not so heavy as leaden ones

they had to be made larger, and the charges contained a less number,

but the skill of the hunters counterbalanced this defect. Powder he

could have made, since he had all the necessary materials but as its

preparation requires extreme care, and as without special apparatus it

is difficult to make it of good quality, Smith proposed to manufacture

pyroxyline, a kind of gun-cotton, a substance in which cotton is not

necessary, except as cellulose. Now cellulose is simply the elementary

tissue of vegetables, and is found in almost a pure state not only in

cotton, but also in the texile fibres of hemp and flax, in paper and

old rags, the pith of the elder, etc. And it happened that elder trees

abounded in the island towards the mouth of Red Creek:—the colonists

had already used its shoots and berries in place of coffee.

Thus they had the cellulose at hand, and the only other substance

necessary for the manufacture of pyroxyline was nitric acid, which

Smith could easily produce as before. The engineer, therefore, resolved

to make and use this combustible, although he was aware that it had

certain serious inconveniences, such as inflaming at 170° instead of

240°, and a too instantaneous deflagration for firearms. On the other

hand, pyroxyline had these advantages—it was not affected by dampness,

it did not foul the gun-barrels, and its explosive force was four times

greater than that of gunpowder.

In order to make the pyroxyline, Smith made a mixture of three parts of

nitric acid with five of concentrated sulphuric acid, and steeped the

cellulose in this mixture for a quarter of an hour; afterwards it was

washed in fresh water and left to dry. The operation succeeded

perfectly, and the hunters had at their disposal a substance perfectly

prepared, and which, used with discretion, gave excellent results.

About this time the colonists cleared three acres of Prospect Plateau,

leaving the rest as pasture for the onagers. Many excursions were made

into Jacamar Wood and the Far West, and they brought back a perfect

harvest of wild vegetables, spinach, cresses, charlocks, and radishes,

which intelligent culture would greatly change, and which would serve

to modify the flesh diet which the colonists had been obliged to put up

with. They also hauled large quantities of wood and coal, and each

excursion helped improve the roads by grinding down its inequalities

under the wheels.

The warren always furnished its contingent of rabbits, and as it was

situated without Glycerine creek, its occupants could not reach nor

damage the new plantations. As to the oyster-bed among the coast rocks,

it furnished a daily supply of excellent mollusks. Further, fish from

the lake and river were abundant, as Pencroff had made set-lines on

which they often caught trout and another very savory fish marked with

small yellow spots on a silver-colored body. Thus Neb, who had charge

of the culinary department, was able to make an agreeable change in the

menu of each repast. Bread alone was wanting at the colonists’ table,

and they felt this privation exceedingly.

Sometimes the little party hunted the sea-turtles, which frequented the

coast at Mandible Cape. At this season the beach was covered with

little mounds enclosing the round eggs, which were left to the sun to

hatch; and as each turtle produces two hundred and fifty eggs annually,

their number was very great.

“It is a true egg-field,” said Spilett, “and all we have to do is to

gather them.”

But they did not content themselves with these products; they hunted

also the producers, and took back to Granite House a dozen of these

reptiles, which were excellent eating. Turtle soup, seasoned with

herbs, and a handful of shell-fish thrown in, gained high praise for

its concoctor, Neb.

Another fortunate event, which permitted them to make new provision for

winter, must be mentioned. Shoals of salmon ascended the Mercy for many

miles, in order to spawn. The river was full of these fish, which

measured upwards of two feet in length, and it was only necessary to

place some barriers in the stream in order to capture a great many.

Hundreds were caught in this way, and salted down for winter, when the

ice would stop the fishing.

Jup, during this time, was elevated to the position of a domestic. He

had been clothed in a jacket, and short trowsers, and an apron with

pockets, which were his joy, as he kept his hands in them and allowed

no one to search them. The adroit orang had been wonderfully trained by

Neb, and one would have said they understood each other’s conversation.

Jup had, moreover, a real affection for the Negro, which was

reciprocated. When the monkey was not wanted to carry wood or to climb

to the top of some tree, he was passing his time in the kitchen,

seeking to imitate Neb in all that he was doing. The master also showed

great patience and zeal in instructing his pupil, and the pupil showed

remarkable intelligence in profiting by these lessons.

Great was the satisfaction one day when Master Jup, napkin on arm, came

without having been called to wait on the table. Adroit and attentive,

he acquitted himself perfectly, changing the plates, bringing the

dishes, and pouring the drink, all with a gravity which greatly amused

the colonists, and completely overcame Pencroff.

“Jup, some more soup! Jup, a bit more agouti! Jup, another plate! Jup,

brave, honest Jup!”

Jup, not in the least disconcerted, responded to every call, looked out

for everything, and nodded his head intelligently when the sailor,

alluding to his former pleasantry said:—

“Decidedly, Jup, we must double your wages!”

The orang had become perfectly accustomed, to Granite House, and often

accompanied his masters to the forest without manifesting the least

desire to run off. It was laughable to see him march along with a stick

of Pencroff’s on his shoulder, like a gun. If any one wanted some fruit

gathered from a treetop how quickly be was up there. If the wagon

wheels stuck in the mire, with what strength he raised it onto the road

again.

“What a Hercules!” exclaimed Pencroff. “If he was as mischievous as he

is gentle we could not get along with him.”

Towards the end of January the colonists undertook great work in the

interior of the island. It had been decided that they would establish

at the foot of Mount Franklin, near the sources of Red Creek, the

corral destined to contain the animals whose presence would have been

unpleasant near Granite House, and more particularly the moufflons,

which were to furnish wool for winter clothing. Every morning all the

colonists, or oftener Smith, Herbert, and Pencroff, went with the

onagers to the site, five miles distant, over what they called Corral

Road. There an extensive area had been chosen opposite the southern

slope of the mountain. It was a level plain, having here and there

groups of trees, situated at the base of one of the spurs, which closed

it in on that side. A small stream, rising close by, crossed it

diagonally, and emptied into Red Creek. The grass was lush, and the

position of the trees allowed the air to circulate freely. All that was

necessary was to build a palisade around to the mountain spur

sufficiently high to keep in the animals. The enclosure would be large

enough to contain one hundred cattle, moufflons or wild goats and their

young.

The line of the corral was marked out by the engineer, and they all set

to work to cut down the trees necessary for the palisade. The road

which they had made furnished some hundred trees, which were drawn to

the place and set firmly in the ground. At the back part of the

palisade they made an entranceway, closed by a double gate made from

thick plank, which could be firmly fastened on the outside.

The building of this corral took all of three weeks, as, besides the

work on the palisades, Smith put up large sheds for the animals. These

were made of planks, and, indeed, everything had to be made solidly and

strong, as moufflons have great strength, and their first resistance

was to be feared. The uprights, pointed at the end and charred, had

been bolted together, and the strength of the whole had been augmented

by placing braces at intervals.

The corral finished, the next thing was to inaugurate a grand hunt at

the pasturages, near the foot of Mount Franklin, frequented by the

animals. The time chosen was the 7th of February, a lovely summer day,

and everybody took part in the affair. The two onagers, already pretty

well trained, were mounted by Spilett and Herbert and did excellent

service. The plan was to drive together the moufflons and goats by

gradually narrowing the circle of the chase around them. Smith,

Pencroff, Neb, and Jup posted themselves in different parts of the

wood, while the two horsemen and Top scoured the country for half a

mile around the corral. The moufflons were very numerous in this

neighborhood. These handsome animals were as large as deer, with larger

horns than those of rams, and a greyish-colored wool, mingled with long

hair, like argali.

The hunt, with its going and coming, the racing backwards and forwards,

the shouting and hallooing, was fatiguing enough. Out of a hundred

animals that were driven together many escaped, but little by little

some thirty moufflons and a dozen wild goats were driven within the

corral, whose open gate seemed to offer a chance of escape. The result

was, therefore, satisfactory; and as many of these moufflons were

females with young, it was certain that the herd would prosper, and

milk and skins be plenty in the future.

In the evening the hunters returned to Granite House nearly tired out.

Nevertheless the next day they went back to look at the corral. The

prisoners had tried hard to break down the palisade, but, not

succeeding, they had soon become quiet.

Nothing of any importance happened during February. The routine of

daily work continued, and while improving the condition of the existing

roads, a third, starting from the enclosure, and directed towards the

southern coast, was begun. This unknown portion of Lincoln Island was

one mass of forest, such as covered Serpentine Peninsula, giving

shelter to the beasts from whose presence Spilett proposed to rid their

domain.

Before the winter returned careful attention was given to the

cultivation of the wild plants which had been transplanted to the

plateau, and Herbert seldom returned from an excursion without bringing

back some useful vegetable. One day it was a kind of succory, from the

seed of which an excellent oil can be pressed; another time, it was the

common sorrel, whose anti-scorbutic properties were not to be

neglected; and again, it was some of those valuable tubercles which

have always been cultivated in South America, those potatoes, of which

more than two hundred species are known at present. The kitchen garden,

already well enclosed, well watered, and well defended against the

birds, was divided into small beds of lettuce, sorrel, radish,

charlock, and other crucifers; and as the soil upon the plateau was of

wonderful richness, abundant crops might be anticipated.

Neither were various drinks wanting, and unless requiring wine, the

most fastidious could not have complained. To the Oswego tea, made from

the mountain mint, and the fermented liquor made from the roots of the

dragon-tree, Smith added a genuine beer; this was made from the young

shoots of the “abies nigra,” which, after having been boiled and

fermented, yielded that agreeable and particularly healthful drink,

known to Americans as “spring beer,” that is, spruce beer.

Toward the close of summer the poultry yard received a fine pair of

bustards belonging to the species “houbara,” remarkable for a sort of

short cloak of feathers and a membranous pouch extending on either side

of the upper mandible; also some fine cocks, with black skin, comb, and

wattles, like those of Mozambique, which strutted about the lake shore.

Thus the zeal of these intelligent and brave men made every thing

prosper. Providence, doubtless, assisted them; but, faithful to the

precept, they first helped themselves, and Heaven helped them

accordingly.

In the evenings, during this warm summer weather, after the day’s work

was ended, and when the sea breeze was springing up, the colonists

loved to gather together on the edge of Prospect Plateau in an arbor of

Neb’s building, covered with climbing plants. There they conversed and

instructed each other, and planned for the future; or the rough wit of

the sailor amused this little world, in which the most perfect harmony

had never ceased to reign.

They talked, too, of their country, dear and grand America. In what

condition was the Rebellion? It certainly could not have continued.

Richmond had, doubtless, soon fallen into General Grant’s hands. The

capture of the Confederate capital was necessarily the last act in that

unhappy struggle. By this time the North must have triumphed. How a

newspaper would have been welcomed by the colonists of Lincoln Island!

It was eleven months since all communication between them and the rest

of the world had been interrupted, and pretty soon, the 24th of March,

the anniversary of the day when the balloon had thrown them on this

unknown coast, would have arrived. Then they were castaways, struggling

with the elements for life. Now thanks to the knowledge of their

leader, thanks to their own intelligence, they were true colonists,

furnished with arms, tools, instruments, who had turned to their use

the animals, vegetables and minerals of the island, the three kingdoms

of nature.

As to Smith, he listened to the conversation of his companions oftener

than he spoke himself. Sometimes he smiled at some thought of

Herbert’s, or some sally of Pencroff’s, but always and above all other

things, he reflected upon those inexplicable events, upon that strange

enigma whose secret still escaped him.

CHAPTER XXXI.

BAD WEATHER—THE HYDRAULIC ELEVATOR—MAKING WINDOW GLASS AND TABLE

WARE—THE BREAD TREE—FREQUENT VISITS TO THE CORRAL—THE INCREASE OF THE

HERD—THE REPORTER’S QUESTION—THE EXACT POSITION OF LINCOLN

ISLAND—PENCROFF’S PROPOSAL.

The weather changed during the first week in March. There was a full

moon in the beginning of the month, and the heat was excessive. The

electricity in the air could be felt, and the stormy weather was at

hand. On the 2d the thunder was very violent, the wind came out east,

and the hail beat against the front of Granite House, pattering like a

volley of musketry. It was necessary to fasten the doors and shutters

in order to keep the rooms from being inundated. Some of the hailstones

were as large as pigeons’ eggs, and made Pencroff think of his

cornfield. He instantly ran there, and by covering the tiny young

sprouts with a large cloth was able to protect them. The sailor was

well pelted, but he did not mind that.

The stormy weather lasted for eight days, and the thunder was almost

continuous. The heavens were full of lightning, and many trees in the

forest were struck, and also a huge pine growing upon the border of the

lake. Two or three times the electric fluid struck the beach, melting

and vitrifying the sand. Finding these fulgurites, Smith conceived the

idea that it would be possible to furnish the windows of Granite House

with glass thick and solid enough to resist the wind and rain and hail.

The colonists, having no immediate out-of-doors work, profited by the

bad weather to complete and perfect the interior arrangements of

Granite House. The engineer built a lathe with which they were able to

turn some toilette articles and cooking utensils, and also some

buttons, the need of which had been pressing. They also made a rack for

the arms, which were kept with the utmost care. Nor was Jup forgotten;

he occupied a chamber apart, a sort of cabin with a frame always full

of good bedding, which suited him exactly.

“There’s no such thing as fault-finding with Jup,” said Pencroff. “What

a servant he is, Neb!”

“He is my pupil and almost my equal!”

“He’s your superior,” laughed the sailor, “as you can talk, Neb, and he

cannot!”

Jup had by this time become perfectly familiar with all the details of

his work. He brushed the clothes, turned the spit, swept the rooms,

waited at table, and—what delighted Pencroff—never laid down at night

before he had tucked the worthy sailor in his bed.

As to the health of the colony, bipeds and bimana, quadrupeds and

quadrumana, it left nothing to be desired. With the out-of-doors work,

on this salubrious soil, under this temperate zone, laboring with head

and hand, they could not believe that they could ever be sick, and all

were in splendid health. Herbert had grown a couple of inches during

the year; his figure had developed and knitted together, and he

promised to become a fine man physically and morally. He profited by

the lessons which he learned practically and from the books in the

chest, and he found in the engineer and the reporter masters pleased to

teach him. It was the engineer’s desire to teach the lad all he himself

knew.

“If I die,” thought Smith, “he will take my place.”

The storm ended on the 9th of March, but the sky remained clouded

during the remainder of the month, and, with the exception of two or

three fine days, rainy or foggy.

About this time a little onager was born, and a number of moufflons, to

the great joy of Neb and Herbert, who had each their favorites among

these new comers.

The domestication of piccaries was also attempted—a pen being built

near the poultry-yard, and a number of the young animals placed therein

under Neb’s care. Jup was charged with taking them their daily

nourishment, the kitchen refuse, and he acquitted himself

conscientiously of the task. He did, indeed, cut off their tails, but

this was a prank and not naughtiness, because those little twisted

appendages amused him like a toy, and his instinct was that of a child.

One day in March, Pencroff, talking with the engineer, recalled to his

mind a promise made some time before.

“You have spoken of something to take the place of our long ladder, Mr.

Smith. Will you make it some day?”

“You mean a kind of elevator?” answered Smith.

“Call it an elevator if you wish,” responded the sailor. “The name does

not matter, provided we can get to our house easily.”

“Nothing is easier, Pencroff; but is it worth while?”

“Certainly, sir, it is. After we have the necessaries, let us think of

the conveniences. For people this will be a luxury, if you choose; but

for things, it is indispensable. It is not so easy to climb a long

ladder when one is heavily loaded.”

“Well, Pencroff, we will try to satisfy you,” answered Smith.

“But you haven’t the machine.”

“We will make one.”

“To go by steam?”

“No, to go by water.”

Indeed, a natural force was at hand. All that was necessary was to

enlarge the passage which furnished Granite House with water, and make

a fall at the end of the corridor. Above this fall the engineer placed

a paddle-wheel, and wrapped around its axle a strong rope attached to a

basket. In this manner, by means of a long cord which reached to the

ground, they could raise or lower the basket by means of the hydraulic

motor.

On the 17th of March the elevator was used for the first time, and

after that everything was hoisted into Granite House by its means. Top

was particularly pleased by this improvement, as he could not climb

like Jup, and he had often made the ascent on the back of Neb or of the

orang.

Smith also attempted to make glass, which was difficult enough, but

after numerous attempts he succeeded in establishing a glass-works at

the old pottery, where Herbert and Spilett spent several days. The

substances entering into the composition of glass—sand, chalk, and

soda—the engineer had at hand; but the “cane” of the glassmaker, an

iron tube five or six feet long, was wanting. This Pencroff, however,

succeeded in making, and on the 28th of March the furnace was heated.

One hundred parts of sand, thirty-five of chalk, forty of sulphate of

soda, mixed with two of three parts of powdered charcoal, composed the

substance which was placed in earthen vessels and melted to a liquid,

or rather to the consistency of paste. Smith “culled” a certain

quantity of this paste with his cane, and turned it back and forth on a

metal plate so placed that it could be blown on; then he passed the

cane to Herbert, telling him to blow in it.

“As you do to make soap bubbles?”

“Exactly.”

So Herbert, puffing out his cheeks, blew through the cane, which he

kept constantly turning about, in such a manner as to inflate the

vitreous mass. Other quantities of the substance in fusion were added

to the first, and the result was a bubble, measuring a foot in

diameter. Then Smith took the cane again, and swinging it like a

pendulum, he made this bubble lengthen into the shape of cylinder.

This cylinder was terminated at either end by two hemispherical caps,

which were easily cut off by means of a sharp iron dipped in cold

water; in the same way the cylinder was cut lengthwise, and after

having been heated a second time it was spread on the plate and

smoothed with a wooden roller.

Thus the first glass was made, and by repeating the operation fifty

times they had as many glasses, and the windows of Granite House were

soon garnished with transparent panes, not very clear, perhaps, but

clear enough.

As to the glassware, that was mere amusement. They took whatever shape

happened to come at the end of the cane. Pencroff had asked to be

allowed to blow in his turn and he enjoyed it, but he blew so hard that

his products took the most diverting forms, which pleased him

amazingly.

During one of the excursions undertaken about this time a new tree was

discovered, whose products added much to the resources of the colony.

Smith and Herbert, being out hunting one day, went into the forests of

the Far West, and as usual the lad asked the engineer a thousand

questions, and as Smith was no sportsman, and Herbert was deep in

physics and chemistry, the game did not suffer; and so it fell out that

the day was nearly ended, and the two hunters were likely to have made

a useless excursion, when Herbert, stopping suddenly, exclaimed

joyfully:—

“Oh, Mr. Smith, do you see that tree?”

And he pointed out a shrub rather than a tree, as it was composed of a

single stem with a scaly bark, and leaves striped with small parallel

veins.

“It looks like a small palm. What is it?” asked Smith.

“It is a “cycas revoluta,” about which I have read in our Dictionary of

Natural History.”

“But I see no fruit on this shrub?”

“No, sir, but its trunk contains a flour which Nature furnishes all

ground.”

“Is it a bread-tree?”

“That’s it, exactly.”

“Then, my boy, since we are waiting for our wheat crop, this is a

valuable discovery. Examine it, and pray heaven you are not mistaken.”

Herbert was not mistaken. He broke the stem of the cycas, which was

composed of a glandular tissue containing a certain quantity of

farinaceous flour, traversed by ligneous fibres and separated by

concentric rings of the same substance. From the fecula oozed a sticky

liquid of a disagreeable taste, but this could readily be removed by

pressure. The substance itself formed a real flour of superior quality,

extremely nourishing, and which used to be forbidden exportation by the

laws of Japan.

Smith and Herbert, after baring carefully noted the location of the

cycas, returned to Granite House and made known their discovery, and

the next day all the colonists went to the place, and, Pencroff,

jubilant, asked the engineer:—

“Mr Smith, do you believe there are such things as castaways’ islands?”

“What do you mean, Pencroff?.”

“Well, I mean islands made especially for people to be shipwrecked

upon, where the poor devils could always get along!”

“Perhaps,” said the engineer, smiling.

“Certainly!” answered the sailor, “and just as certainly Lincoln Island

is one of them!”

They returned to Granite House with an ample supply of cycas stems, and

the engineer made a press by which the liquid was expelled, and they

obtained a goodly quantity of flour which Neb transformed into cakes

and puddings. They had not yet real wheaten bread, but it was the next

thing to do.

The onager, the goats, and the sheep in the corral furnished a daily

supply of milk to the colony, and the cart, or rather a light wagon,

which had taken its place, made frequent trips to the corral. And when

Pencroff’s turn came, he took Jup along, and made him drive, and Jup,

cracking his whip, acquitted himself with his usual intelligence. Thus

everything prospered, and the colonists, if they had not been so far

from their country, would have had nothing to complain of. They liked

the life and they were so accustomed to the island that they would have

left it with regret. Nevertheless, such is man’s love of country, that

had a ship hove in sight the colonists would have signalled it, have

gone aboard and departed. Meantime, they lived this happy life and they

had rather to fear than to wish for any interruption of its course.

But who is able to flatter himself that he has attained his fortune and

reached the summit of his desires?

The colonists often discussed the nature of their Island, which they

had inhabited for more than a year, and one day a remark was made

which, was destined, later, to bring about the most serious result.

It was the 1st of April, a Sunday, and the Pascal feast, which Smith

and his companions had sanctified by rest and prayer. The day had been

lovely, like a day in October in the Northern Hemisphere. Towards

evening all were seated in the arbor on the edge of the plateau,

watching the gradual approach of night, and drinking some of Neb’s

elderberry coffee. They had been talking of the island and its isolated

position in the Pacific, when something made Spilett say:—

“By the way, Cyrus, have you ever taken the position of the island

again since you have had the sextant?”

“No,” answered the engineer.

“Well, wouldn’t it be well enough to do so?”.

“What would be the use?” asked Pencroff. “The island is well enough

where it is.”

“Doubtless,” answered Spilett, “but it is possible that the

imperfections of the other instruments may have caused an error in that

observation, and since, it is easy to verify it exactly—”

“You are right, Spilett,” responded the engineer, “and I would have

made this verification before, only that if I have made an error it

cannot exceed five degrees in latitude or longitude.”

“Who knows,” replied the reporter, “who knows but that we are much

nearer an inhabited land than we believe?”

“We will know to-morrow,” responded the engineer,” and had it not been

for the other work, which has left us no leisure, we would have known

already.”

“Well,” said Pencroff, “Mr. Smith is too good an observer to have been

mistaken, and if the island has not moved, it is just where he put it!”

So the next day the engineer made the observations with the sextant

with the following result:—Longitude 150° 30’ west; latitude 34° 57’

south. The previous observation had given the situation of the island

as between longitude 150° and 155° west, and latitude 36° and 35°

south, so that, notwithstanding the rudeness of his apparatus, Smith’s

error had not been more than five degrees.

“Now,” said Spilett, “since, beside a sextant, we have an atlas, see,

my dear Cyrus, the exact position of Lincoln Island in the Pacific.”

Herbert brought the atlas, which it will be remembered gave the

nomenclature in the French language, and the volume was opened at the

map of the Pacific. The engineer, compass in hand, was about to

determine their situation, when, suddenly he paused, exclaiming:—

“Why, there is an island marked in this part of the Pacific!”

“An island?” cried Pencroff.

“Doubtless it is ours.” added Spilett.

“No.” replied Smith. “This island is situated in 153° of longitude and

37° 11’ of latitude.”

“And what’s the name?” asked Herbert.

“Tabor Island.”

“Is it important?”

“No, it is an island lost in the Pacific, and which has never, perhaps,

been visited.”

“Very well, we will visit it,” said Pencroff.

“We?”

“Yes, sir; We will build a decked boat, and I will undertake to steer

her. How far are we from this Tabor Island?”

“A hundred and fifty miles to the northeast.”

“Is that all?” responded Pencroff.

“Why in forty-eight hours, with a good breeze, we will be there!”

“But what would be the use?” asked the reporter.

“We cannot tell till we see it!”

And upon this response it was decided that a boat should be built so

that it might be launched by about the next October, on the return of

good weather.

CHAPTER XXXII.

SHIP BUILDING—THE SECOND HARVEST—AI HUNTING—A NEW PLANT—A WHALE—THE

HARPOON FROM THE VINEYARD—CUTTING UP THIS CETACEA—USE OF THE

WHALEBONE—THE END OF MAY—PENCROFF IS CONTENT.

When Pencroff was possessed of an idea, he would not rest till it was

executed. Now, he wanted to visit Tabor Island, and as a boat of some

size was necessary, therefore the boat must be built. He and the

engineer accordingly determined upon the following model:—

The boat was to measure thirty-five feet on the keel by nine feet

beam—with the lines of a racer—and to draw six feet of water, which

would be sufficient to prevent her making leeway. She was to be

flush-decked, with the two hatchways into two holds separated by a

partition, and sloop-rigged with mainsail, topsail, jib, storm-jib and

brigantine, a rig easily handled, manageable in a squall, and excellent

for lying close in the wind. Her hull was to be constructed of planks,

edge to edge, that is, not overlapping, and her timbers would be bent

by steam after the planking had been adjusted to a false frame.

On the question of wood, whether to use elm or deal, they decided on

the latter as being easier to work, and supporting immersion in water

the better.

These details having been arranged, it was decided that, as the fine

weather would not return before six months, Smith and Pencroff should

do this work alone. Spilett and Herbert were to continue hunting, and

Neb and his assistant, Master Jup, were to attend to the domestic cares

as usual.

At once trees were selected and cut down and sawed into planks, and a

week later a ship-yard was made in the hollow between Granite House and

the Cliff, and a keel thirty-five feet long, with stern-post and stem

lay upon the sand.

Smith had not entered blindly upon this undertaking. He understood

marine construction as he did almost everything else, and he had first

drawn the model on paper. Moreover, he was well aided by Pencroff, who

had worked as a ship-carpenter. It was, therefore, only after deep

thought and careful calculation that the false frame was raised on the

keel.

Pencroff was very anxious to begin the new enterprise, and but one

thing took him away, and then only for a day, from the work. This was

the second harvest, which was made on the 15th of April. It resulted as

before, and yielded the proportion of grains calculated.

“Five bushels, Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff, after having scrupulously

measured these riches.

“Five bushels,” answered the engineer, “or 650,000 grains of corn.”

“Well, we will sow them all this time, excepting a small reserve.”

“Yes, and if the next harvest is proportional to this we will have

4,000 bushels.”

“And we will eat bread.”

“We will, indeed.”

“But we must build a mill?”

“We will build one.”

The third field of corn, though incomparably larger than the others,

was prepared with great care and received the precious seed. Then

Pencroff returned to his work.

In the meantime, Spilett and Herbert hunted in the neighborhood, or

with their guns loaded with ball, adventured into the unexplored depths

of the Far West. It was an inextricable tangle of great trees growing

close together. The exploration of those thick masses was very

difficult and the engineer never undertook it without taking with him

the pocket compass, as the sun was rarely visible through the leaves.

Naturally, game was not plenty in these thick undergrowths, but three

ai were shot during the last fortnight in April, and their skins were

taken to Granite House, where they received a sort of tanning with

sulfuric acid.

On the 30th of April, a discovery, valuable for another reason, was

made by Spilett. The two hunters were deep in the south-western part of

the Far West when the reporter, walking some fifty paces ahead of his

companion, came to a sort of glade, and was surprised to perceive an

odor proceeding from certain straight stemmed plants, cylindrical and

branching, and bearing bunches of flowers and tiny seeds. The reporter

broke off some of these stems, and, returning to the lad, asked him if

he knew what they were.

“Where did you find this plant?” asked Herbert.

“Over there in the glade; there is plenty of it.”

“Well, this is a discovery that gives you Pencroff’s everlasting

gratitude.”

“Is it tobacco?”

“Yes, and if it is not first quality it is all the same, tobacco.”

“Good Pencroff, how happy he’ll be. But he cannot smoke all. He’ll have

to leave some for us.”

“I’ll tell you what, sir. Let us say nothing to Pencroff until the

tobacco has been prepared, and then some fine day we will hand him a

pipe full.”

“And you may be sure, Herbert, that on that day the good fellow will

want nothing else in the world.”

The two smuggled a good supply of the plant into Granite House with as

much precaution as if Pencroff had been the strictest of custom house

officers. Smith and Neb were let into the secret, but Pencroff never

suspected any thing during the two months it took to prepare the

leaves, as he was occupied all day at the ship-yard.

On the 1st of May the sailor was again interrupted at his favorite work

by a fishing adventure, in which all the colonists took part.

For some days they had noticed an enormous animal swimming in the sea

some two or three miles distant from the shore. It was a huge whale,

apparently belonging to the species _australis_, called “cape whales.”

“How lucky for us if we could capture it!” cried the sailor. “Oh, if we

only had a suitable boat and a harpoon ready, so that I could

say:—Let’s go for him! For he’s worth all the trouble he’ll give us!”

“Well, Pencroff, I should like to see you manage a harpoon. It must be

interesting.”

“Interesting and somewhat dangerous,” said the engineer, “but since we

have not the means to attack this animal, it is useless to think about

him.”

“I am astonished to see a whale in such comparatively high latitude.”

“Why, Mr. Spilett, we are in that very part of the Pacific which

whalers call the ‘whale-field,’ and just here whales are found in the

greatest number.”

“That is so,” said Pencroff, “and I wonder we have not seen one before,

but it don’t matter much since we cannot go to it.”

And the sailor turned with a sigh to his work, as all sailors are

fishermen; and if the sport is proportionate to the size of the game,

one can imagine what a whaler must feel in the presence of a whale.

But, aside from the sport, such spoil would have been very acceptable

to the colony, as the oil, the fat, and the fins could be turned to

various uses.

It appeared as if the animal did not wish to leave these waters. He

kept swimming about in Union Bay for two days, now approaching the

shore, when his black body could be seen perfectly, and again darting

through the water or spouting vapor to a vast height in the air. Its

presence continually engaged the thoughts of the colonists, and

Pencroff was like a child longing for some forbidden object.

Fortune, however, did for the colonists what they could not have done

for themselves, and on the 3d of May, Neb looking from his kitchen

shouted that the whale was aground on the island.

Herbert and Spilett, who were about starting on a hunt, laid aside

their guns, Pencroff dropped his hatchet, and Smith and Neb, joining

their companions, hurried down to the shore. It had grounded on Jetsam

Point at high water, and it was not likely that the monster would be

able to get off easily; but they must hasten in order to cut off its

retreat if necessary. So seizing some picks and spears they ran across

the bridge, down the Mercy and along the shore, and in less than twenty

minutes the party were beside the huge animal, above whom myriads of

birds were already hovering.

“What a monster!” exclaimed Neb.

And the term was proper, as it was one of the largest of the southern

whales, measuring forty-five feet in length and weighing not less than

150,000 pounds.

Meantime the animal, although the tide was still high, made no effort

to get off the shore, and the reason for this was explained later when

at low water the colonists walked around its body.

It was dead, and a harpoon protruded from its left flank.

“Are there whalers in our neighborhood?” asked Spilett.

“Why do you ask?”

“Since the harpoon is still there—”

“Oh that proves nothing, sir,” said Pencroff. “Whales sometimes go

thousands of miles with a harpoon in them, and I should not be

surprised if this one which came to die here had been struck in the

North Atlantic.”

“Nevertheless”—began Spilett, not satisfied with Pencroff’s

affirmation.

“It is perfectly possible,” responded the engineer, “but let us look at

the harpoon. Probably it will have the name of the ship on it.”

Pencroff drew out the harpoon, and read this inscription:—

Maria-Stella Vineyard.

“A ship from the Vineyard! A ship of my country!” be cried. “The

Maria-Stella! a good whaler! and I know her well! Oh, my friends, a

ship from the Vineyard! A whaler from the Vineyard!”

And the sailor, brandishing the harpoon, continued to repeat that name

dear to his heart, the name of his birthplace.

But as they could not wait for the Maria-Stella to come and reclaim

their prize, the colonists resolved to cut it up before decomposition

set in. The birds of prey were already anxious to become possessors of

the spoil, and it was necessary to drive them away with gunshots.

The whale was a female, and her udders furnished a great quantity of

milk, which, according to Dieffenbach, resembles in taste, color, and

density, the milk of cows.

As Pencroff had served on a whaler he was able to direct the

disagreeable work of cutting up the animal—an operation which lasted

during three days. The blubber, cut in strips two feet and a half thick

and divided into pieces weighing a thousand pounds each, was melted

down in large earthen vats, which had been brought on to the ground.

And such was its abundance, that notwithstanding a third of its weight

was lost by melting, the tongue alone yielded 6,000 pounds of oil. The

colonists were therefore supplied with an abundant supply of stearine

and glycerine, and there was, besides, the whalebone, which would find

its use, although there were neither umbrellas nor corsets in Granite

House.

The operation ended, to the great satisfaction of the colonists, the

rest of the animal was left to the birds, who made away with it to the

last vestiges, and the daily routine of work was resumed. Still, before

going to the ship-yard, Smith worked on certain affairs which excited

the curiosity of his companions. He took a dozen of the plates of

baleen (the solid whalebone), which he cut into six equal lengths,

sharpened at the ends.

“And what is that for?” asked Herbert, when they were finished.

“To kill foxes, wolves, and jaguars,” answered the engineer.

“Now?”

“No, but this winter, when we have the ice.”

“I don’t understand,” answered Herbert.

“You shall understand, my lad,” answered the engineer. “This is not my

invention; it is frequently employed by the inhabitants of the Aleutian

islands. These whalebones which you see, when the weather is freezing I

will bend round and freeze in that position with a coating of ice; then

having covered them with a bit of fat, I will place them in the snow.

Supposing a hungry animal swallows one of these baits? The warmth will

thaw the ice, and the whalebone, springing back, will pierce the

stomach.”

“That is ingenious!” said Pencroff.

“And it will save powder and ball,” said Smith.

“It will be better than the traps.”

“Just wait till winter comes.”

The ship-building continued, and towards the end of the month the

little vessel was half-finished. Pencroff worked almost too hard, but

his companions were secretly preparing a recompense for all his toil,

and the 31st of May was destined to be one of the happiest times in his

life.

After dinner on that day, just as he was leaving table, Pencroff felt a

hand on his shoulder and heard Spilett saying to him:—

“Don’t go yet awhile, Pencroff. You forget the dessert.”

“Thank you, Spilett, but I must get back to work.”

“Oh, well, have a cup of coffee.”

“Not any.”

“Well, then, a pipe?”

Pencroff started up quickly, and when he saw the reporter holding him a

pipe full of tobacco, and Herbert with a light, his honest, homely face

grew pale, and he could not say a word; but taking the pipe, he placed

it to his lips, lit it, and drew five or six long puffs, one after the

other.

A fragrant, blueish-colored smoke filled the air, and from the depths

of this cloud came a voice, delirious with joy, repeating,

“Tobacco! real tobacco!”

“Yes, Pencroff,” answered Smith, “and good tobacco at that.”

“Heaven be praised!” ejaculated the sailor. “Nothing now is wanting in

our island. And he puffed and puffed and puffed.

“Who found it?” he asked, at length. “It was you, Herbert, I suppose?”

“No, Pencroff, it was Mr. Spilett.”

“Mr. Spilett!” cried the sailor, hugging the reporter, who had never

been treated that way before.

“Yes, Pencroff,”—taking advantage of a cessation in the embrace to get

his breath—“But include in your thanksgiving Herbert, who recognized

the plant, Mr. Smith, who prepared it, and Neb, who has found it hard

to keep the secret.”

“Well, my friends, I will repay you for this some day! Meanwhile I am

eternally grateful!.”

CHAPTER XXXIII

WINTER—FULLING CLOTH—THE MILL —PENCROFF’S FIXED PURPOSE—THE

WHALEBONES—THE USE OF AN ALBATROSS —TOP AND JUP—STORMS—DAMAGE TO THE

POULTRY-YARD—AN EXCURSION TO THE MARSH—SMITH ALONE—EXPLORATION OF THE

PITS.

Winter came with June, and the principal work was the making of strong

warm clothing. The moufflons had been clipped, and the question was how

to transform the wool into cloth.

Smith, not having any mill machinery, was obliged to proceed in the

simplest manner, in order to economize the spinning and weaving.

Therefore he proposed to make use of the property possessed by the

filaments of wool of binding themselves together under pressure, and

making by their mere entanglement the substance known as felt. This

felt can be obtained by a simple fulling, an operation which, while it

diminishes the suppleness of the stuff, greatly augments its

heat-preserving qualities; and as the moufflons’ wool was very short it

was in good condition for felting.

The engineer, assisted by his companions, including Pencroff—who had to

leave his ship again—cleansed the wool of the grease and oil by soaking

it in warm water and washing it with soda, and, when it was partially

dried by pressure it was in a condition to be milled, that is, to

produce a solid stuff, too coarse to be of any value in the industrial

centres of Europe, but valuable enough in the Lincoln Island market.

The engineer’s professional knowledge was of great service in

constructing the machine destined to mill the wool, as he knew how to

make ready use of the power, unemployed up to this time, in the

water-fall at the cliff, to move a fulling mill.

Its construction was most simple. A tree furnished with cams, which

raised and dropped the vertical millers, troughs for the wool, into

which the millers fell, a strong wooden building containing and

sustaining the contrivance, such was the machine in question.

The work, superintended by Smith, resulted admirably. The wool,

previously impregnated with a soapy solution, came from the mill in the

shape of a thick felt cloth. The striæ and roughnesses of the material

had caught and blended together so thoroughly that they formed a stuff

equally suitable for cloths or coverings. It was not, indeed, one of

the stuffs of commerce, but it was “Lincoln felt,” and the island had

one more industry.

The colonists, being thus provided with good clothes and warm

bed-clothing, saw the winter of 1866-67 approach without any dread. The

cold really began to be felt on the 20th of June, and, to his great

regret, Pencroff was obliged to suspend work on his vessel, although it

would certainly be finished by the next spring.

The fixed purpose of the sailor was to make a voyage of discovery to

Tabor Island, although Smith did not approve of this voyage of simple

curiosity, as there was evidently no succor to be obtained from that

desert and half arid rock. A voyage of 150 miles in a boat,

comparatively small, in the midst of unknown seas, was cause for

considerable anxiety. If the frail craft, once at sea, should be unable

to reach Tabor Island, or to return to Lincoln Island, what would

become of her in the midst of this ocean so fertile in disasters?

Smith often talked of this project with Pencroff, and he found in the

sailor a strange obstinacy to make the voyage, an obstinacy for which

Pencroff himself could not account.

“Well,” said the engineer one day, “you must see, Pencroff, after

having said every good of Lincoln Island, and expressing the regret you

would feel should you have to leave it, that you are the first to want

to get away.”

“Only for a day or two,” answered Pencroff, “for a few days, Mr. Smith;

just long enough to go and return, and see what this island is.”

“But it cannot compare with ours.”

“I know that.””

“Then why go?”

“To find out what’s going on there!”

“But there is nothing; there can be nothing there.”

“Who knows?”

“And supposing you are caught in a storm?”

“That is not likely in that season,” replied Pencroff. “But, sir, as it

is necessary to foresee everything, I want your permission to take

Herbert with me.”

“Pencroff,” said the engineer, laying his hand on the shoulder of the

sailor, “If anything should happen to you and this child, whom chance

has made our son, do you think that we would ever forgive ourselves?”

“Mr. Smith,” responded Pencroff with unshaken confidence, “we won’t

discuss such mishaps. But we will talk again of this voyage when the

time comes. Then, I think, when you have seen our boat well rigged,

when you have seen how well she behaves at sea, when you have made the

tour of the island—as we will, together—I think, I say, that you will

not hesitate to let me go. I do not conceal from you that this will be

a fine work, your ship.”

“Say rather, our ship, Pencroff,” replied the engineer, momentarily

disarmed. And the conversation, to be renewed later, ended without

convincing either of the speakers.

The first snow fell towards the end of the month. The corral had been

well provisioned, and there was no further necessity for daily visits,

but it was decided to go there at least once a week. The traps were set

again, and the contrivances of Smith were tried, and worked perfectly.

The bent whalebones, frozen, and covered with fat, were placed near the

edge of the forest, at a place frequented by animals, and some dozen

foxes, some wild boars, and a jaguar were found killed by this means,

their stomachs perforated by the straightened whalebones.

At this time, an experiment, thought of by the reporter, was made. It

was the first attempt of the colonists to communicate with their

kindred.

Spilett had already often thought of throwing a bottle containing a

writing into the sea, to be carried by the currents, perhaps, to some

inhabited coast, or to make use of the pigeons. But it was pure folly

to seriously believe that pigeons or bottles could cross the 1,200

miles separating the island from all lands.—

But on the 30th of June they captured, not without difficulty, an

albatross, which Herbert had slightly wounded in the foot. It was a

splendid specimen of its kind, its wings measuring ten feet from tip to

tip, and it could cross seas as vast as the Pacific.

Herbert would have liked to have kept the bird and tamed it, but

Spilett made him understand that they could not afford to neglect this

chance of corresponding by means of this courier with the Pacific

coasts. So Herbert gave up the bird, as, if it had come from some

inhabited region, it was likely to return there if at liberty.

Perhaps, in his heart, Spilett, to whom the journalistic spirit

returned sometimes, did not regret giving to the winds an interesting

article relating the adventures of the colonists of Lincoln Island.

What a triumph for the reporters of the New York _Herald_, and for the

issue containing the chronicle, if ever the latter should reach his

director, the honorable John Bennett!

Spilett, therefore, wrote out a succinct article, which was enclosed in

a waterproof-cloth bag, with the request to whoever found it to send it

to one of the offices of the _Herald_. This little bag was fastened

around the neck of the albatross and the bird given its freedom, and it

was not without emotion that the colonists saw this rapid courier of

the air disappear in the western clouds.

“Where does he go that way?” asked Pencroff.

“Towards New Zealand,” answered Herbert.

“May he have a good voyage,” said the sailor, who did not expect much

from this method of communication.

With the winter, in-door work was resumed; old clothes were repaired,

new garments made, and the sails of the sloop made from the

inexhaustible envelope of the balloon. During July the cold was

intense, but coal and wood were abundant, and Smith had built another

chimney in the great hall, where they passed the long evenings. It was

a great comfort to the colonists, when, seated in this well-lighted and

warm hall, a good dinner finished, coffee steaming in the cups, the

pipes emitting a fragrant smoke, they listened to the roar of the

tempest without. They were perfectly comfortable, if that is possible

where one is far from his kindred and without possible means of

communicating with them. They talked about their country, of their

friends at home, of the grandeur of the republic, whose influence must

increase; and Smith, who had had much to do with the affairs of the

Union, entertained his hearers with his stories, his perceptions and

his prophecies.

One evening as they had been sitting talking in this way for some time,

they were interrupted by Top, who began barking in that peculiar way

which had previously attracted the attention of the engineer, and

running around the mouth of the well which opened at the end of the

inner corridor.

“Why is Top barking that way again?” asked Pencroff.

“And Jup growling so?” added Herbert.

Indeed, both the dog and the orang gave unequivocal signs of agitation,

and curiously enough these two animals seemed to be more alarmed than

irritated.

It is evident,” said Spilett, “that this well communicates directly

with the sea, and that some animal comes to breathe in its depths.”

“It must be so, since there is no other explanation to give. Be quiet,

Top! and you, Jup! go to your room.”

The animals turned away, Jup went to his bed, but Top remained in the

hall, and continued whining the remainder of the evening. It was not,

however, the question of this incident that darkened the countenance of

the engineer.

During the remainder of the month, rain and snow alternated, and though

the temperature was not as low as during the preceding winter, there

were more storms and gales. On more than one occasion the Chimneys had

been threatened by the waves, and it seemed as if an upraising of the

sea, caused by some submarine convulsion, raised the monstrous billows

and hurled them against Granite House.

During these storms it was difficult, even dangerous, to attempt using

the roads on the island, as the trees were falling constantly.

Nevertheless, the colonists never let a week pass without visiting the

corral, and happily this enclosure, protected by the spur of the

mountain, did not suffer from the storms. But the poultry-yard, from

its position, exposed to the blast, suffered considerable damage. Twice

the pigeon-house was unroofed, and the fence also was demolished,

making it necessary to rebuild it more solidly. It was evident that

Lincoln Island was situated in the worst part of the Pacific. Indeed,

it seemed as if the island formed the central point of vast cyclones

which whipped it as if it were a top; only in this case the top was

immovable and the whip spun about.

During the first week in August the storm abated, and the atmosphere

recovered a calm which it seemed never to have lost. With the calm the

temperature lowered, and the thermometer of the colonists indicated 8°

below zero.

On the 3d of August, an excursion, which had been planned for some time

was made to Tadorn’s Fen. The hunters were tempted by the great number

of aquatic birds which made these marshes their home, and not only

Spilett and Herbert, but Pencroff and Neb took part in the expedition.

Smith alone pleaded some excuse for remaining behind at Granite House.

The hunters promised to return by evening. Top and Jup accompanied

them. And when they had crossed the bridge over the Mercy the engineer

left them, and returned with the idea of executing a project in which

he wished to be alone. This was to explore minutely the well opening

into the corridor.

Why did Top run round this place so often? Why did he whine in that

strange way? Why did Jup share Top’s anxiety? Had this well other

branches beside the communication with the sea? Did it ramify towards

other portions of the island? This is what Smith wanted to discover,

and, moreover, to be alone in his discovery. He had resolved to make

this exploration during the absence of his companions, and here was the

opportunity.

It was easy to descend to the bottom of the well by means of the

ladder, which had not been used since the elevator had taken its place.

The engineer dragged this ladder to the opening of the well, and,

having made fast one end, let it unroll itself into the abyss. Then,

having lit a lantern, and placing a revolver and cutlass in his belt,

he began to descend the rungs. The sides of the well were smooth, but

some projections of rocks appeared at intervals, and by means of these

projections an athlete could have raised himself to the mouth of the

well. The engineer noticed this, but in throwing the light of the

lantern on these points he could discover nothing to indicate that they

had ever been used in that way.

Smith descended deeper, examining every part of the well, but he saw

nothing suspicious. When he had reached the lowermost rung, he was at

the surface of the water, which was perfectly calm. Neither there, nor

in any other part of the well, was there any lateral opening. The wall,

struck by the handle of Smith’s cutlass, sounded solid. It was a

compact mass, through which no human being could make his way. In order

to reach the bottom of the well, and from thence climb to its mouth, it

was necessary to traverse the submerged passage under the shore, which

connected with the sea, and this was only possible for marine animals.

As to knowing whereabouts on the shore, and at what depth under the

waves, this passage came out, that was impossible to discover.

Smith, having ended his exploration, remounted the ladder, covered over

again the mouth of the well, and returned thoughtfully to the great

hall of Granite House, saying to himself:—

“I have seen nothing, and yet, there is something there.”

CHAPTER XXXIV.

RIGGING THE LAUNCH—ATTACKED BY FOXES—JUP WOUNDED—JUP NURSED—JUP

CURED—COMPLETION OF THE LAUNCH—PENCROFF’S TRIUMPH—THE GOOD LUCK—TRIAL

TRIP, TO THE SOUTH OF THE ISLAND—AN UNEXPECTED DOCUMENT.

The same evening the hunters returned, fairly loaded down with game,

the four men having all they could carry. Top had a circlet of ducks

round his neck, and Jup belts of woodcock round his body.

“See, my master,” cried Neb, “see how we have used our time. Preserves,

pies, we will have a good reserve! But some one must help me, and I

count upon you, Pencroff.”

“No, Neb,” responded the sailor, “the rigging of the launch occupies my

time, and you will have to do without me.”

“And you, Master Herbert?”

“I, Neb, must go to-morrow to the corral.”

“Then will you help me, Mr. Spilett?”

“To oblige you, I will, Neb,” answered the reporter, “but I warn you

that if you discover your recipes to me I will publish them.”

“Whenever you choose, sir,” responded Neb; “whenever you choose.”

And so the next day the reporter was installed as Neb’s aid in his

culinary laboratory. But beforehand the engineer had given him the

result of the previous day’s exploration, and Spilett agreed with Smith

in his opinion that, although he had found out nothing, still there was

a secret to be discovered.

The cold continued a week longer, and the colonists did not leave

Granite House excepting to look after the poultry-yard. The dwelling

was perfumed by the good odors which the learned manipulations of Neb

and the reporter emitted; but all the products of the hunt in the fen

had not been made into preserves, and as the game kept perfectly in the

intense cold, wild ducks and others, were eaten fresh, and declared

better than any waterfowl in the world.

During the week, Pencroff, assisted by Herbert, who used the sailor’s

needle skilfully, worked with such diligence that the sails of the

launch were finished. Thanks to the rigging which had been recovered

with the envelope of the balloon, hemp cordage was not wanting. The

sails were bordered by strong bolt-ropes, and there was enough left to

make halliards, shrouds, and sheets. The pulleys were made by Smith on

the lathe which he had set up, acting under Pencroff’s instruction. The

rigging was, therefore, completed before the launch was finished.

Pencroff made a red, white, and blue flag, getting the dye from certain

plants; but to the thirty-seven stars representing the thirty-seven

States of the Union, the sailor added another star, the star of the

“State of Lincoln:” as he considered his island as already annexed to

the great republic.

“And,” said he, “it is in spirit, if it is not in fact!”

For the present the flag was unfurled from the central window of

Granite House and saluted with three cheers.

Meantime, they had reached the end of the cold season; and it seemed as

if this second winter would pass without any serious event, when during

the night of the 11th of August, Prospect Plateau was menaced by a

complete devastation. After a busy day the colonists were sleeping

soundly, when towards 4 o’clock in the morning, they were suddenly

awakened by Top’s barking. The dog did not bark this time at the mouth

of the pit, but at the door, and he threw himself against it as if he

wished to break it open. Jup, also, uttered sharp cries.

“Be quiet, Top!” cried Neb, who was the first awake.

But the dog only barked the louder.

“What’s the matter?” cried Smith. And every one dressing in haste,

hurried to the windows and opened them.

“Beneath them a fall of snow shone white through the darkness. The

colonists could see nothing, but they heard curious barkings

penetrating the night. It was evident that the shore had been invaded

by a number of animals which they could not see.”

“What can they be?” cried Pencroff.

“Wolves, jaguars, or monkeys!” replied Neb.

“The mischief! They can get on to the plateau!” exclaimed the reporter.

“And our poultry-yard, and our garden!” cried Herbert.

“How have they got in?” asked Pencroff.

“They have come through the causeway,” answered the engineer, “which

one of us must have forgotten to close!”

“In truth,” said Spilett, “I remember that I left it open—”

“A nice mess you have made of it, sir!” cried the sailor.

“What is done, is done,” replied Spilett. “Let us consider what it is

necessary to do!”

These questions and answers passed rapidly between Smith and his

companions. It was certain that the causeway had been passed, that the

shore had been invaded by animals, and that, whatever they were, they

could gain Prospect Plateau by going up the left bank of the Mercy. It

was, therefore, necessary quickly to overtake them, and, if necessary,

to fight them!

“But what are they?” somebody asked a second time, as the barking

resounded more loudly.

Herbert started at the sound, and he remembered having heard it during

his first visit to the sources of Red Creek.

“They are foxes! they are foxes!” he said.

“Come on!” cried the sailor. And all, armed with hatchets, carbines,

and revolvers, hurried into the elevator, and were soon on the shore.

These foxes are dangerous animals, when numerous or irritated by

hunger. Nevertheless, the colonists did not hesitate to throw

themselves into the midst of the band, and their first shots, darting

bright gleams through the darkness, drove back the foremost assailants.

It was most important to prevent these thieves from gaining Prospect

Plateau, as the garden and the poultry-yard would have been at their

mercy, and the result would have been immense, perhaps, irreparable

damage, especially to the corn-field. But as the plateau could only be

invaded by the left bank of the Mercy, it would suffice to oppose a

barrier to the foxes on the narrow portion of the shore comprised

between the river and the granite wall.

This was apparent to all, and under Smith’s direction the party gained

this position and disposed themselves so as to form an impassable line.

Top, his formidable jaws open, preceded the colonists, and was followed

by Jup, armed with a knotty cudgel, which he brandished like a

cricket-bat.

The night was very dark, and it was only by the flash of the discharges

that the colonists could perceive their assailants, who numbered at

least 100, and whose eyes shone like embers.

“They must not pass!” cried Pencroff.

“They shall not pass!” answered the engineer.

But if they did not it was not because they did not try. Those behind

kept pushing on those in front, and it was an incessant struggle; the

colonists using their hatchets and revolvers. Already the dead bodies

of the foxes were strewn over the ground, but the band did not seem to

lessen; and it appeared as if reinforcements were constantly pouring in

through the causeway on the shore. Meantime the colonists fought side

by side, receiving some wounds, though happily but trifling. Herbert

shot one fox, which had fastened itself on Neb like a tiger-cat. Top

fought with fury, springing at the throats of the animals and

strangling them at once. Jup, armed with his cudgel, laid about him

like a good fellow, and it was useless to try to make him stay behind.

Gifted, doubtless, with a sight able to pierce the darkness, he was

always in the thick of the fight, uttering from time to time a sharp

cry, which was with him a mark of extreme jollification. At one time he

advanced so far, that by the flash of a revolver he was seen,

surrounded by five or six huge foxes, defending himself with rare

coolness.

At length the fight ended in a victory for the colonists, but only

after two hours of resistance. Doubtless the dawn of day determined the

retreat of the foxes, who scampered off toward the north across the

drawbridge, which Neb ran at once to raise. When daylight lit the

battlefield, the colonists counted fifty dead bodies upon the shore.

“And Jup! Where is Jup?” cried Neb.

Jup had disappeared. His friend Neb called him, and for the first time

he did not answer the call. Every one began to search for the monkey,

trembling lest they should find him among the dead. At length, under a

veritable mound of carcasses, each one marked by the terrible cudgel of

the brave animal, they found Jup. The poor fellow still held in his

hand the handle of his broken weapon; but deprived of this arm, he had

been overpowered by numbers, and deep wounds scored his breast.

“He’s alive!” cried Neb, who knelt beside him.

“And we will save him,” answered the sailor, “We will nurse him as one

of ourselves!”

It seemed as if Jup understood what was said, for he laid his head on

Pencroff’s shoulder as if to thank him. The sailor himself was wounded,

but his wounds, like those of his companions, were trifling, as thanks

to their firearms, they had always been able to keep the assailants at

a distance. Only the orang was seriously hurt.

Jup, borne by Neb and Pencroff, was carried to the elevator, and lifted

gently to Granite House. There he was laid upon one of the beds, and

his wounds carefully washed. No vital organ seemed to have been

injured, but the orang was very feeble from loss of blood, and a strong

fever had set in. His wounds having been dressed, a strict diet was

imposed upon him, “just as for a real person,” Neb said, and they gave

him a refreshing draught made from herbs.

He slept at first but brokenly, but little by little, his breathing

became more regular, and they left him in a heavy sleep. From time to

time Top came “on tip-toe” to visit his friend, and seemed to approve

of the attentions which had been bestowed upon it.

One of Jup’s hands hung over the side of the bed, and Top licked it

sympathetically.

The same morning they disposed of the dead foxes by dragging the bodies

to the Far West and burying them there.

This attack, which might have been attended with very grave results,

was a lesson to the colonists, and thenceforth they never slept before

having ascertained that all the bridges were raised and that no

invasion was possible.

Meantime Jup, after having given serious alarm for some days, began to

grow better. The fever abated gradually, and Spilett, who was something

of a physician, considered him out of danger. On the 16th of August Jup

began to eat. Neb made him some nice, sweet dishes, which the invalid

swallowed greedily, for if he had a fault, it was that he was a bit of

a glutton, and Neb had never done anything to correct this habit.

“What would you have?” he said to Spilett, who sometimes rebuked the

negro for indulging him. “Poor Jup has no other pleasure than to eat!

and I am only too glad to be able to reward his services in this way!”

By the 21st of August he was about again. His wounds were healed, and

the colonists saw that he would soon recover his accustomed suppleness

and vigor. Like other convalescents he was seized with an excessive

hunger, and the reporter let him eat what he wished, knowing that the

monkey’s instinct would preserve him from excess. Neb was overjoyed to

see his pupil’s appetite returned.

“Eat Jup,” he said, “and you shall want for nothing. You have shed your

blood for us, and it is right that I should help you to make it again!”

At length, on the 25th of August, the colonists seated in the great

hall, were called by Neb to Jup’s room.

“What is it?” asked the reporter.

“Look!” answered Neb, laughing, and what did they see but Jup, seated

like a Turk within the doorway of Granite House, tranquilly and gravely

smoking!

“My pipe!” cried Pencroff. “He has taken my pipe! Well, Jup, I give it

to you. Smoke on my friend, smoke on!”

And Jup gravely puffed on, seeming to experience the utmost enjoyment.

Smith was not greatly astonished at this incident, and he cited

numerous examples of tamed monkeys that had become accustomed to the

use of tobacco.

And after this day master Jup had his own pipe hung in his room beside

his tobacco-bag, and, lighting it himself with a live coal, he appeared

to be the happiest of quadrumana. It seemed as if this community of

taste drew closer together the bonds of friendship already existing

between the worthy monkey and the honest sailor.

“Perhaps he is a man,” Pencroff would sometimes say to Neb. “Would it

astonish you if some day he was to speak?”

“Indeed it would not,” replied Neb. “The wonder is that he don’t do it,

as that is all he lacks!”

“Nevertheless, it would be funny if some fine day he said to

me:—Pencroff, suppose we change pipes!”

“Yes,” responded Neb. “What a pity he was born mute!”

Winter ended with September, and the work was renewed with ardor. The

construction of the boat advanced rapidly. The planking was completed,

and as wood was plenty Pencroff proposed that they line the interior

with a stout ceiling, which would insure the solidity of the craft.

Smith, not knowing what might be in store for them, approved the

sailor’s idea of making his boat as strong as possible. The ceiling and

the deck were finished towards the 13th of September. For caulking,

they used some dry wrack, and the seams were then covered with boiling

pitch, made from the pine trees of the forest.

The arrangement of the boat was simple. She had been ballasted with

heavy pieces of granite, set in a bed of lime, and weighing 12,000

pounds. A deck was placed over this ballast, and the interior was

divided into two compartments, the larger containing two bunks, which

served as chests. The foot of the mast was at the partition separating

the compartments, which were entered through hatchways.

Pencroff had no difficulty in finding a tree suitable for a mast. He

chose a young straight fir, without knots, so that all he had to do was

to square the foot and round it off at the head. All the iron work had

been roughly but solidly made at the Chimneys; and in the first week of

October yards, topmast, spars, oars, etc., everything, in short, was

completed; and it was determined that they would first try the craft

along the shores of the island, so as to see how she acted.

She was launched on the 10th of October. Pencroff was radiant with

delight. Completely rigged, she had been pushed on rollers to the edge

of the shore, and, as the tide rose, she was floated on the surface of

the water, amid the applause of the colonists, and especially of

Pencroff, who showed no modesty on this occasion. Moreover, his vanity

looked beyond the completion of the craft, as, now that she was built,

he was to be her commander. The title of captain was bestowed upon him

unanimously.

In order to satisfy Captain Pencroff it was necessary at once to name

his ship, and after considerable discussion they decided upon Good

Luck—the name chosen by the honest sailor. Moreover, as the weather was

fine, the breeze fresh, and the sea calm, the trial must be made at

once in an excursion along the coast.

“Get aboard! Get aboard!” cried Captain Pencroff.

At half-past 10, after having eaten breakfast and put some provisions

aboard, everybody, including Top and Jup, embarked, the sails were

hoisted, the flag set at the masthead, and the Good Luck, with Pencroff

at the helm, stood out to sea.

On going out from Union Bay they had a fair wind, and they were able to

see that, sailing before it, their speed was excellent. After doubling

Jetsam Point and Claw Cape, Pencroff had to lie close to the wind in

order to skirt along the shore, and he observed the Good Luck would

sail to within five points of the wind, and that she made but little

lee-way. She sailed very well, also, before the wind, minding her helm

perfectly, and gained even in going about.

The passengers were enchanted. They had a good boat, which, in case of

need, could render them great service, and in this splendid weather,

with the fair wind, the sail was delightful. Pencroff stood out to sea

two or three miles, opposite Balloon Harbor, and then the whole varied

panorama of the island from Claw Cape to Reptile Promontory was visible

under a new aspect. In the foreground were the pine forests,

contrasting with the foliage of the other trees, and over all rose Mt.

Franklin, its head white with snow.

“How beautiful it is!” exclaimed Herbert.

“Yes, she is a pretty creature,” responded Pencroff. “I love her as a

mother. She received us poor and needy, and what has she denied to

these five children who tumbled upon her out of the sky?”

“Nothing, captain, nothing,” answered Neb. And the two honest fellows

gave three hearty cheers in honor of their island.

Meantime, Spilett, seated by the mast, sketched the panorama before

him, while Smith looked on in silence.

“What do you say of our boat, now, sir?” demanded Pencroff.

“It acts very well,” replied the engineer.

“Good. And now don’t you think it could undertake a voyage of some

length?”

“Where, Pencroff?”

“To Tabor Island, for instance.”

“My friend,” replied the engineer, “I believe that in a case of

necessity there need be no hesitancy in trusting to the Good Luck even

for a longer journey; but, you know, I would be sorry to see you leave

for Tabor Island, because nothing obliges you to go.”

“One likes to know one’s neighbors,” answered Pencroff, whose mind was

made up. “Tabor Island is our neighbor, and is all alone. Politeness

requires that at least we make her a visit.”

“The mischief!” exclaimed Spilett, “our friend Pencroff is a stickler

for propriety.”

“I am not a stickler at all,” retorted the sailor, who was a little

vexed by the engineer’s opposition.

“Remember, Pencroff,” said Smith, “that you could not go the island

alone.”

“One other would be all I would want.”

“Supposing so,” replied the engineer, “would you risk depriving our

colony of five, of two of its colonists?”

“There are six,” rejoined Pencroff. “You forget Jup.”

“There are seven,” added Neb. “Top is as good as another.”

“There is no risk in it, Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff again.

“Possibly not, Pencroff; but, I repeat, that it is exposing oneself

without necessity.”

The obstinate sailor did not answer, but let the conversation drop for

the present. He little thought that an incident was about to aid him,

and change to a work of humanity what had been merely a caprice open to

discussion.

The Good Luck, after having stood out to sea, was returning towards the

coast and making for Balloon Harbor, as it was important to locate the

channel-way between the shoals and reefs so as to buoy them, for this

little inlet was to be resting place of the sloop.

They were half a mile off shore, beating up to windward and moving

somewhat slowly, as the boat was under the lee of the land. The sea was

as smooth as glass. Herbert was standing in the bows indicating the

channel-way. Suddenly he cried:—

“Luff, Pencroff, luff.”

“What is it?” cried the sailor, springing to his feet. “A rock?”

“No—hold on, I cannot see very well—luff again—steady—bear away a

little—” and while thus speaking, the lad lay down along the deck,

plunged his arm quickly into the water, and then rising up again with

something in his hand, exclaimed:—

“It is a bottle!”

Smith took it, and without saying a word, withdrew the cork and took

out a wet paper, on which was written these words:—

“A shipwrecked man—Tabor Island:—l53° W. lon.—37° 11’ S. lat.”

CHAPTER XXXV.

DEPARTURE DECIDED UPON—PREPARATIONS—THE THREE PASSENGERS—THE FIRST

NIGHT—THE SECOND NIGHT—TABOR ISLAND—SEARCH ON THE SHORE—SEARCH IN THE

WOODS—NO ONE—ANIMALS—PLANTS—A HOUSE—DESERTED.

“Some one shipwrecked!” cried Pencroff, “abandoned some hundred miles

from us upon Tabor Island! Oh! Mr. Smith, you will no longer oppose my

project!”

“No, Pencroff, and you must leave as soon as possible.”.

“To-morrow?”

“To-morrow.”

The engineer held the paper which he had taken from the bottle in his

hand. He considered for a few moments, and then spoke:—

“From this paper, my friends,” said he, “and from the manner in which

it is worded, we must conclude that, in the first place, the person

cast away upon Tabor Island is a man well informed, since he gives the

latitude and longitude of his island exactly; secondly, that he is

English or American, since the paper is written in English.”

“That is a logical conclusion,” answered Spilett, “and the presence of

this person explains the arrival of the box on our coast. There has

been a shipwreck, since some one has been shipwrecked. And he is

fortunate in that Pencroff had the idea of building this boat and even

of trying it to-day, for in twenty-four hours the bottle would have

been broken on the rocks.”

“Indeed,!’ said Herbert, “it is a happy chance that the Good Luck

passed by the very spot where this bottle was floating.”

“Don’t it seem to you odd?” asked Smith of Pencroff.

“It seems fortunate, that’s all,” replied the sailor. “Do you see

anything extraordinary in it, sir? This bottle must have gone

somewhere, and why not here as well as anywhere else?”

“Perhaps you are right, Pencroff,” responded the engineer, “and

nevertheless—”

“But,” interrupted Herbert, “nothing proves that this bottle has

floated in the water for a long time.”

“Nothing,” responded Spilett, “and moreover the paper seems to have

been recently written. What do you think, Cyrus?”

“It is hard to decide.” answered Smith..

Meanwhile Pencroff had not been idle. He had gone about, and the Good

Luck, with a free wind, all her sails drawing, was speeding toward Claw

Cape. Each one thought of the castaway on Tabor Island. Was there still

time to save him? This was a great event in the lives of the colonists.

They too were but castaways, but it was not probable that another had

been as favored as they had been, and it was their duty to hasten at

once to this one’s relief. By 2 o’clock Claw Cape was doubled, and the

Good Luck anchored at the mouth of the Mercy.

That evening all the details of the expedition were arranged. It was

agreed that Herbert and Pencroff, who understood the management of a

boat, were to undertake the voyage alone. By leaving the next day, the

11th of October, they would reach the island, supposing the wind

continued, in forty-eight hours. Allowing for one day there, and three

or four days to return in, they could calculate on being at Lincoln

Island again on the 17th. The weather was good, the barometer rose

steadily, the wind seemed as if it would continue, everything favored

these brave men, who were going so far to do a humane act.

Thus, Smith, Neb, and Spilett was to remain at Granite House; but at

the last moment, the latter, remembering his duty as reporter to the

New York _Herald_, having declared that he would swim rather than lose

such an opportunity, was allowed to take part in the voyage.

The evening was employed in putting bedding, arms, munitions,

provisions, etc., on board, and the next morning, by 5 o’clock, the

good-byes were spoken, and Pencroff, hoisting the sails, headed for

Claw Cape, which had to be doubled before taking the route to the

southeast. The Good Luck was already a quarter of a mile from shore

when her passengers saw upon the heights of Granite House two men

signalling farewells. They were Smith and Neb, from whom they were

separating for the first time in fifteen months.

Pencroff, Herbert, and the reporter returned the signal, and soon

Granite House disappeared behind the rocks of the Cape.

During the morning, the Good Luck remained in view of the southern

coast of the island, which appeared like a green clump of trees, above

which rose Mount Franklin. The heights, lessened by distance, gave it

an appearance little calculated to attract ships on its coasts. At 1

o’clock Reptile Promontory was passed ten miles distant. It was

therefore impossible to distinguish the western coast, which extended

to the spurs of the mountain, and three hours later, Lincoln Island had

disappeared behind the horizon.

The Good Luck behaved admirably. She rode lightly over the seas and

sailed rapidly. Pencroff had set his topsail, and with a fair wind he

followed a straight course by the compass. Occasionally Herbert took

the tiller, and the hand of the young lad was so sure, that the sailor

had nothing to correct.

Spilett chatted with one and the other, and lent a hand when necessary

in manœuvring the sloop. Captain Pencroff was perfectly satisfied with

his crew, and was constantly promising them an extra allowance of grog.

In the evening the slender crescent of the moon glimmered in the

twilight. The night came on dark but starlit, with the promise of a

fine day on the morrow. Pencroff thought it prudent to take in the

topsail, which was perhaps an excess of caution in so still a night,

but he was a careful sailor, and was not to be blamed.

The reporter slept during half the night, Herbert and Pencroff taking

two-hour turns at the helm. The sailor had as much confidence in his

pupil as he had in himself, and his trust was justified by the coolness

and judgment of the lad. Pencroff set the course as a captain to his

helmsman, and Herbert did not allow the Good Luck to deviate a point

from her direction.