portions of this coast! The one wooded and verdant, the other harsh and
savage! It was what they call in certain countries, an “iron-bound
coast,” and its tempestuous aspect seemed to indicate a sudden
crystallization of the boiling basalt in the geologic epochs. How
appalling would this hideous mass have been to the colonists if they
had chanced to have been thrown on this part of the island! When they
were on Mount Franklin, their position had been too elevated for them
to recognize the awfully forbidding aspect of this shore; but, viewed
from the sea, it presented an appearance, the like of which cannot be
seen, perhaps, in any portion of the globe.
The sloop passed for half a mile before this coast. It was composed of
blocks of all dimensions from twenty to thirty feet high, and of all
sorts of shapes, towers, steeples, pyramids, obelisks, and cones. The
ice-bergs of the polar seas could not have been thrown together in more
frightful confusion! Here, the rocks formed bridges, there, nave-like
arches, of indistinguishable depth; in one place, were excavations
resembling monumental vaults, in another a crowd of points outnumbering
the pinnacles of a Gothic cathedral. All the caprices of nature, more
varied than those of the imagination, were here displayed over a
distance of eight or nine miles.
Smith and companions gazed with a surprise approaching stupefaction.
But, though they rested mute, Top kept up an incessant barking, which
awoke a thousand echoes. The engineer noticed the same strangeness in
the dog’s action as he showed at the month of the well in Granite
House.
“Go alongside,” said Smith.
And the Good Luck ran in as close to the rocks as possible. Perhaps
there was some cavern here which it would be well to explore. But Smith
saw nothing, not even a hollow which could serve as a retreat for any
living thing, and the base of the rocks was washed by the surf of the
sea. After a time the dog stopped barking, and the sloop kept off again
at some cable lengths from the shore.
In the northwest portion of the island the shore became flat and sandy.
A few trees rose above the low and swampy ground, the home of myriads
of aquatic birds.
In the evening the sloop moored in a slight hollow of the shore, to the
north of the island. She was close into the bank, as the water here was
of great depth. The breeze died away with nightfall, and the night
passed without incident.
The next morning Spilett and Herbert went ashore for a couple of hours
and brought back many bunches of ducks and snipe, and by 8 o’clock the
Good Luck, with a fair, freshening breeze, was speeding on her way to
North Mandible Cape.
“I should not be surprised,” said Pencroff, “if we had a squall.
Yesterday the sun set red, and, this morning, the cats-tails foreboded
no good.”
These “cats-tails”—were slender cyrrhi, scattered high above, in the
zenith. These feathery messengers usually announce the near disturbance
of the elements.
“Very well, then,” said Smith, “crowd on all sail and make for Shark
Gulf. There, I think the sloop will be safe.”
“Perfectly,” replied the sailor, “and, moreover, the north coast is
nothing but uninteresting downs.”
“I shall not regret,” added the engineer, “passing, not only the night,
but also tomorrow in that bay, which deserves to be explored with
care.”
“I guess we’ll have to, whether we want to or no,” replied Pencroff,
“as it is beginning to be threatening in the west. See how dirty it
looks!”
“Any how, we have a good wind to make Mandible Cape,” observed the
reporter.
“First rate; but, we will have to tack to get into the gulf, and I
would rather have clear weather in those parts which I know nothing
about.”
“Parts which are sown with reefs,” added Herbert, “if I may judge from
what we have seen of the coast to the south of the gulf.”
“Pencroff,” said Smith, “do whatever you think best, we leave
everything to you.”
“Rest assured, sir,” responded the sailor, “I will not run any
unnecessary risk. I would rather have a knife in my vitals, than that
my Good Luck should run on a rock!”
“What time is it?” asked Pencroff.
“10 o’clock.”
“And how far is it to the cape?”
“About fifteen miles.”
“That will take two hours and a half. Unfortunately, the tide then will
be going down, and it will be a hard matter to enter the gulf with wind
and tide against us.”
“Moreover,” said Herbert, “it is full moon to-day, and these April
tides are very strong.”
“But, Pencroff,” asked Smith, “cannot you anchor at the cape?”
“Anchor close to land, with bad weather coming on!” cried the sailor.
“That would be to run ourselves ashore.”
“Then what will you do?”
“Keep off, if possible, until the tide turns, which will be about 1
o’clock, and if there is any daylight left try to enter the gulf; if
not, we will beat on and off until daylight.”
“I have said, Pencroff, that we will leave everything to your
judgment.”
“Ah,” said Pencroff, “if only there was a light-house on this coast it
would be easier for sailors.”
“Yes,” answered Herbert, “and this time we have no thoughtful engineer
to light a fire to guide us into harbor.”
“By the way, Cyrus,” said Spilett, “we have never thanked you for that;
but indeed, without that fire we would not have reached—”
“A fire?” demanded Smith, astounded by the words of the reporter.
“We wish to say, sir,” said Pencroff, “that we would have been in a bad
fix on board the Good Luck, when we were nearly back, and that we would
have passed to windward of the island unless you had taken the
precaution to light a fire, on the night of the 19th of October, upon
the plateau above Granite House.”
“Oh, yes, yes! It was a happy thought!” replied Smith.
“And now,” added Pencroff, “unless Ayrton thinks of it, there is not a
soul to do us this little service.”
“No—no one!” replied Smith.
And a moment or two later, being alone with Spilett, the engineer
whispered to him:—
“If there is anything sure in this world, Spilett, it is that I never
lit a fire on that night, either on the plateau or anywhere else!”
CHAPTER XLII.
NIGHT AT SEA—SHARK GULF—CONFIDENCES—PREPARATIONS FOR WINTER—EARLY
ADVENT OF BAD WEATHER—COLD—IN-DOOR WORK—SIX MONTHS LATER—A SPECK ON THE
PHOTOGRAPH—AN UNEXPECTED EVENT.
The sailor’s predictions were well founded. The breeze changed to a
strong blow such as would hare caused a ship in the open sea to have
lowered her topmasts and sailed under close reefs. The sloop was
opposite the gulf at 6 o’clock, but the tide was running out, so all
that Pencroff could do was to bend the jib down to the mainmast as a
stay-sail and lie to with the bows of the Good Luck pointing on shore.
Fortunately, although the wind was strong, the ocean, protected by the
coast, was not very rough, and there was no danger from heavy seas,
which would have tried the staunchness of the little craft. Pencroff,
although he had every confidence in his boat, waited anxiously for
daylight.
During the night Smith and Spilett had not another opportunity to talk
alone, although the whispered words of the engineer made the reporter
anxious to discuss with him again the mysterious influence which seemed
to pervade Lincoln Island. Spilett could not rid himself of the thought
of this new and inexplicable incident. He and his companions also had
certainly seen this light, and yet Smith declared that he knew nothing
about it.
He determined to return to this subject as soon as they returned home,
and to urge Smith to inform their companions of these strange events.
Perhaps, then, they would decide to make, altogether, a thorough search
into every part of the island.
Whatever it was, no light appeared upon these unknown shores during
this night, and at daylight the wind, which had moderated somewhat,
shifted a couple of points, and permitted Pencroff to enter the gulf
without difficulty. About 7 o’clock the Good Luck passed into these
waters enclosed in a grotesque frame of lava.
“Here,” said Pencroff, “is a fine roadstead, where fleets could ride at
ease.”
“It is curious,” remarked Smith, “that this gulf has been formed by two
successive streams of lava, completely enclosing its waters; and it is
probable that, in the worst weather, the sea here is perfectly calm.”
“It is a little too large for the Good Luck,” remarked the reporter.
“I admit that,” replied the sailor, “but if the navy of the United
States needed a shelter in the Pacific, I don’t think they could find a
better roadstead than this!”
“We are in the shark’s jaws,” said Neb, alluding to the form of the
gulf.
“We are, indeed,” replied Herbert; “but, Neb, you are not afraid that
they will close on us?”
“No, sir, not that; and yet I don’t like the looks of the place. It has
a wicked aspect.”
“So Neb begins running down my roadstead just as I was thinking to
offer it to the United States!” cried Pencroff.
“But are its waters deep enough?” asked the engineer.
“That is easily seen,” answered the sailor, taking the sounding line,
which measured fifty fathoms, and letting it down. It unrolled to the
end without touching bottom.
“There,” said Pencroff, “our iron-clads could come here without running
aground!”
“In truth,” said Smith, “this gulf is an abyss; but when we remember
the plutonic origin of the island, that is not extraordinary.”
“One might think,” said Herbert, “that these walls had been cut with an
instrument, and I believe that at their very base, even with a line six
times as long, we could not reach the bottom.”
“All this is very well,” said the reporter, “but I would suggest that
Pencroff’s roadstead lacks one important element.”
“What is that?”
“A cut, or pathway of some kind, by which one could go inland. I do not
see a place where there is even a foothold.”
And, indeed, these steep lava walls afforded no landing place on all
their circumference. The Good Luck, skirting within touching distance
of the lava, found no place where the passengers could disembark.
Pencroff consoled himself by saying that they could blow up the wall,
if they wanted to, and then, as there was certainly nothing to be done
here, he turned towards the narrow opening, which was passed at 2
o’clock.
Neb gave a long sigh of relief. It was evident that the brave negro had
not been comfortable in those enormous jaws!
The sloop was now headed for Granite House, eight miles distant, and,
with a fair wind, coasted along within a mile of the shore. The
enormous lava rocks were soon succeeded by the oddly-disposed downs,
among which the engineer had been so singularly discovered, and the
place was covered with sea-birds.
Towards 4 o’clock, Pencroff, leaving the islet to the left, entered the
channel separating it from the island, and an hour later cast anchor in
the Mercy.
The colonists had been absent three days. Ayrton was waiting for them
on the shore, and Jup came joyously to welcome them, grinning with
satisfaction.
The entire exploration of the coast had been made, and nothing
suspicious had been seen. So that if any mysterious being resided on
the island, it must be under cover of the impenetrable woods on
Serpentine Peninsula, which the colonists had not, as yet,
investigated.
Spilett talked the matter over with the engineer, and it was agreed
that they should call their comrades’ attention to these strange
events, the last one of which was the most inexplicable of all.
“Are you sure you saw it, Spilett?” asked Smith, for the twentieth
time. “Was it not a partial eruption of the volcano, or some meteor?”
“No, Cyrus, it wag certainly a fire lit by the hand of man. For that
matter, question Pencroff and Herbert. They saw it also, and they will
confirm my words.”
So, some evenings later, on the 26th of April, when all the colonists
were gathered together on Prospect Plateau, Smith began:—
“My friends, I want to call your attention to certain things which are
happening in our island, and to a subject on which I am anxious to have
your advice. These things are almost supernatural—”
“Supernatural!” exclaimed the sailor, puffing his pipe. “Can anything
be supernatural?”
“No, Pencroff, but certainly mysterious; unless, indeed, you can
explain what Spilett and I have been unable to account for up to this
time.”
“Let us hear it, Mr. Smith,” replied the sailor.
“Very well. Have you understood, then, how, after being thrown into the
sea, I was found a quarter of a mile inland, without my having been
conscious of getting there?”
“Possibly, having fainted,”—began the sailor.
“That is not admissible,” answered the engineer; “but, letting that go,
have you understood how Top discovered your retreat five miles from the
place where I lay?”
“The dog’s instinct,” replied Herbert.
“A singular instinct,” remarked the reporter, “since, in spite of the
storm that was raging, Top arrived at the Chimneys dry and clean!”
“Let that pass,” continued the engineer; “have you understood how our
dog was so strangely thrown up from the lake, after his struggle with
the dugong?”
“No! that I avow,” replied Pencroff, “and the wound in the dugong which
seemed to have been made by some sharp instrument, I don’t understand
that at all.”
“Let us pass on again,” replied Smith. “Have you understood, my
friends, how that leaden bullet was in the body of the peccary; how
that box was so fortunately thrown ashore, without any trace of a
shipwreck; how that bottle, enclosing the paper, was found so
opportunely; how our canoe, having broken its rope, floated down the
Mercy to us at the very moment when we needed it; how, after the
invasion of the monkeys, the ladder was let down from Granite House;
how, finally, the document, which Ayrton pretends not to have written,
came into our hands?”
Smith had thus enumerated, without forgetting one, the strange events
that had happened on the island. Herbert, Pencroff, and Neb looked at
each other, not knowing what to say, as this succession of events, thus
grouped together, gave them the greatest surprise.
“Upon my faith,” said Pencroff, at length, “you are right, Mr. Smith,
and it is hard to explain those things.”
“Very well, my friends,” continued the engineer, “one thing more is to
be added, not less incomprehensible than the others!”
“What is that?” demanded Herbert, eagerly.
“When you returned from Tabor Island, Pencroff, you say that you saw a
light on Lincoln Island?”
“Certainly I did.”
“And you are perfectly sure that you saw it?”
“As sure as that I see you.”
“And you, Herbert?”
“Why, Mr. Smith,” cried Herbert, “it shone like a star of the first
magnitude!”
“But was it not a star?” insisted the engineer.
“No,” replied Pencroff, “because the sky was covered with heavy clouds,
and, under any circumstances, a star would not have been so low on the
horizon. But Mr. Spilett saw it, and he can confirm what we say.”
“I would add,” said the reporter, “that it was as bright as an electric
light.”
“Yes, and it was certainly placed above Granite House!” exclaimed
Herbert.
“Very well, my friends,” replied Smith, “during all that night neither
Neb nor I lit any fire at all!”
“You did not!—” cried Pencroff, so overcome with astonishment that he
could not finish the sentence.
“We did not leave Granite House, and if any fire appeared upon the
coast, it was lit by another hand!”
The others were stupefied with amazement. Undoubtedly a mystery
existed! Some inexplicable influence, evidently favorable to the
colonists, but exciting their curiosity, made itself felt upon Lincoln
Island. Was there then some being hidden in its innermost retreats?
They wished to know this, cost what it might!
Smith also recalled to his companions the singular actions of Top and
Jup, about the mouth of the well, and he told them that he had explored
its depths without discovering anything. And the conversation ended by
a determination, on the part of the colonists, to make a thorough
search of the island as soon as the spring opened.
After this Pencroff became moody. This island, which he had looked upon
as his own, did not belong to him alone, but was shared by another, to
whom, whether he would or not, the sailor felt himself inferior. Neb
and he often discussed these inexplicable circumstances, and readily
concluded that Lincoln Island was subject to some supernatural
influence.
The bad weather began early, coming in with May; and the winter
occupations were undertaken without delay. The colonists were well
protected from the rigor of the season. They had plenty of felt
clothing, and the moufflons had furnished a quantity of wool for its
further manufacture.
Ayrton had been comfortably clothed, and when the bad weather began, he
had returned to Granite House; but he remained humble and sad, never
joining in the amusements of his companions.
The most of this third winter was passed by the colonists indoors at
Granite House. The storms were frequent and terrible, the sea broke
over the islet, and any ship driven upon the coast would have been lost
without any chance of rescue. Twice the Mercy rose to such a height
that the bridge and causeways were in danger of destruction. Often the
gusts of wind, mingled with snow and rain, damaged the fields and the
poultry-yard, and made constant repairs necessary.
In the midst of this season, some jaguars and quadrumanes came to the
very border of the plateau, and there was danger of the bolder of these
beasts making a descent on the fields and domestic animals of the
colonists. So that a constant watch had to be kept upon these dangerous
visitors, and this, together with the work indoors, kept the little
party in Granite House busy.
Thus the winter passed, with now and then a grand hunt in the frozen
marshes of Tadorn’s Fen. The damage done to the corral during the
winter was unimportant, and was soon repaired by Ayrton, who, in the
latter part of October, returned there to spend some days at work.
The winter had passed without any new incident. Top and Jup passed by
the well without giving any sign of anxiety, and it seemed as if the
series of supernatural events had been interrupted. Nevertheless, the
colonists were fixed in their determination to make a thorough
exploration of the most inaccessible parts of the island, when an event
of the gravest moment, which set aside all the plans of Smith and his
companions, happened.
It was the 28th of October. Spring was rapidly approaching, and the
young leaves were appearing on the trees on the edge of the forest.
Herbert, tempted by the beauty of the day, determined to take a
photograph of Union Bay, as it lay facing Prospect Plateau, between
Mandible and Claw Capes.
It was 3 o’clock, the horizon was perfectly clear, and the sea, just
stirred by the breeze, scintillated with light. The instrument had been
placed at one of the windows of Granite House, and the lad, having
secured his negative, took the glass into the dark room, where the
chemicals were kept, in order to fix it. Returning to the light, after
this operation, he saw a speck on the plate, just at the horizon, which
he was unable to wash out.
“It is a defect in the glass,” he thought.
And then he was seized by a curiosity to examine this speck by means of
a magnifying glass made from one of the lenses of the instrument.
Hardly had he given one look, when, uttering a cry of amazement, he ran
with the plate and the glass to Smith. The latter examined the speck,
and immediately seizing the spy-glass hurried to the window.
The engineer, sweeping the horizon with the glass, found the speck, and
spoke one word. “A ship!”
In truth, a ship was in sight of Lincoln Island.
PART III
THE SECRET OF THE ISLAND
CHAPTER XLIII.
LOST OR SAVED?—AYRTON RECALLED—IMPORTANT DISCUSSION—IT IS NOT THE
DUNCAN—SUSPICION AND PRECAUTION—APPROACH OF THE SHIP—A CANNON SHOT—THE
BRIG ANCHORS IN SIGHT OF THE ISLAND—NIGHT FALL.
Two years and a half ago, the castaways had been thrown on Lincoln
Island; and up to this time they had been cut off from their kind. Once
the reporter had attempted to establish communication with the
civilized world, by a letter tied to the neck of a bird; but this was
an expedient on whose success they could place no reliance. Ayrton,
indeed, under the circumstances which have been related, had joined the
little colony. And now, on the 17th of October, other men had appeared
within sight of the island, on that desert sea! There could be no doubt
of it; there was a ship, but would she sail away into the offing, or
put in shore? The question would soon be decided. Smith and Herbert
hastened to call the others into the great hall of Granite House, and
inform them of what had been observed. Pencroff seized the spy-glass
and swept the horizon till his gaze fell upon the point indicated.
“No doubt of it, she’s a ship!” said he in a tone of no great pleasure.
“Is she coming towards us?” asked Spilett.
“Impossible to say yet,” replied Pencroff, “for only her sails are
visible; her hull is below the horizon.
“What must we do?” said the boy.
“We must wait,” said Smith.
And for a time which seemed interminable, the colonists remained in
silence, moved alternately by fear and hope. They were not in the
situation of castaways upon a desert island, constantly struggling with
niggardly Nature for the barest means of living, and always longing to
got back to their fellow-men. Pencroff and Neb, especially, would have
quitted the island with great regret. They were made, in truth, for the
new life which they were living in a region civilized by their own
exertions! Still, this ship would bring them news of the Continent;
perhaps it was an American vessel; assuredly it carried men of their
own race, and their hearts beat high at the thought!
From time to time, Pencroff went to the window with the glass. From
thence he examined the ship carefully. She was still twenty miles to
the east, and they had no means of communication with her. Neither flag
nor fire would have been seen; nor would the report of a gun be heard.
Yet the island, with Mount Franklin towering high above it, must be
visible to the lookout men on the ship. But why should the vessel land
there? Was it not mere chance which brought it into that part of the
Pacific, out of the usual track, and when Tabor Island was the only
land indicated on the maps? But here a suggestion came from Herbert.
“May it not be the Duncan?” cried he.
The Duncan, as our readers will remember, was Lord Glenarvan’s yacht,
which had abandoned Ayrton on the islet, and was one day to come back
for him. Now the islet was not so far from Lincoln Island but that a
ship steering for one might pass within sight of the other. They were
only 150 miles distant in longitude, and 75 in latitude.
“We must warn Ayrton,” said Spilett, “and tell him to come at once.
Only he can tell us whether she is the Duncan.”
This was every one’s opinion, and the reporter, going to the telegraph
apparatus, which communicated with the corral, telegraphed. “Come at
once.” Soon the wire clicked, “I am coming.” Then the colonists turned
again to watch the ship.
“If it is the Duncan,” said Herbert, “Ayrton will readily recognize
her, since he was aboard her so long.”
“It will make him feel pretty queer!” said Pencroff.
“Yes,” replied Smith, “but Ayrton is now worthy to go on board again,
and may Heaven grant it to be indeed the Duncan! These are dangerous
seas for Malay pirates.”
“We will fight for our island,” said Herbert.
“Yes, my boy,” answered the engineer, smiling, “but it will be better
not to have to fight for her.”
“Let me say one thing,” said Spilett. “Our island is unknown to
navigators, and it is not down in the most recent maps. Now, is not
that a good reason for a ship which unexpectedly sighted it to try to
run in shore?”
“Certainly,” answered Pencroff.
“Yes,” said the engineer, “it would even be the duty of the captain to
report the discovery of any island not on the maps, and to do this he
must pay it a visit.”
“Well,” said Pencroff, “suppose this ship casts anchor within a few
cables’ length of our island, what shall we do?”
This downright question for a while remained unanswered. Then Smith,
after reflection, said in his usual calm tone:—
“What we must do, my friends, is this. We will open communication with
the ship, take passage on board of her, and leave our island, after
having taken possession of it in the name of the United States of
America.
Afterwards we will return with a band of permanent colonists, and endow
our Republic with a useful station on the Pacific!”
“Good!” said Pencroff, “that will be a pretty big present to our
country! We have really colonized it already. We have named every part
of the island; there is a natural port, a supply of fresh water, roads,
a line of telegraph, a wood yard, a foundry; we need only put the
island on the maps!”
“But suppose some one else should occupy it while we are gone?” said
Spilett.
“I would sooner stay here alone to guard it,” cried the sailor, “and,
believe me, they would not steal it from me, like a watch from a gaby’s
pocket!”
For the next hour, it was impossible to say whether or not the vessel
was making for the island. She had drawn nearer, but Pencroff could not
make out her course. Nevertheless, as the wind blew from the northeast,
it seemed probable that she was on the starboard tack. Besides, the
breeze blew straight for the landing, and the sea was so calm that she
would not hesitate to steer for the island, though the soundings were
not laid down in the charts.
About 4 o’clock, an hour after he had been telegraphed for, Ayrton
arrived. He entered the great hall, saying, “Here I am, gentlemen.”
Smith shook hands with him, and drawing him to the window, “Ayrton,”
said he, “we sent for you for a weighty reason. A ship is within sight
of the island.”
For a moment Ayrton looked pale, and his eyes were troubled. Then he
stooped down and gazed around the horizon.
“Take this spy-glass,” said Spilett, “and look well, Ayrton, for it may
be the Duncan come to take you home.”
“The Duncan!” murmured Ayrton. “Already!”
The last word escaped him involuntarily and he buried his face in his
hands. Did not twelve years’ abandonment on a desert island seem to him
a sufficient expiation?
“No,” said he, “no, it cannot be the Duncan.”
“Look, Ayrton,” said the engineer, “for we must know beforehand with
whom we have to deal.”
Ayrton took the glass and levelled it in the direction indicated. For
some minutes he observed the horizon in silence. Then he said:—
“Yes, it is a ship, but I do not think it is the Duncan.
“Why not?” asked Spilett.
“Because the Duncan is a steam-yacht, and I see no trace of smoke about
this vessel.”
“Perhaps she is only under sail,” observed Pencroff. “The wind is
behind her, and she may want to save her coal, being go far from land.”
“You may be right, Mr. Pencroff,” said Ayrton. “But, let her come in
shore, and we shall soon know what to make of her.”
So saying, he sat down in a corner and remained silent, taking no part
in the noisy discussion about the unknown ship. No more work was done.
Spilett and Pencroff were extremely nervous; they walked up and down,
changing place every minute. Herbert’s feeling was one of curiosity.
Neb alone remained calm; his master was his country. The engineer was
absorbed in his thoughts, and was inclined to believe the ship rather
an enemy than a friend. By the help of the glass they could make out
that she was a brig, and not one of those Malay proas, used by the
pirates of the Pacific. Pencroff, after a careful look, affirmed that
the ship was square-rigged, and was running obliquely to the coast, on
the starboard tack, under mainsail, topsail, and top-gallant sail set.
Just then the ship changed her tack, and drove straight towards the
island. She was a good sailer, and rapidly neared the coast. Ayrton
took the glass to try to ascertain whether or not she was the Duncan.
The Scotch yacht, too, was square-rigged. The question therefore was
whether a smokestack could be seen between the two masts of the
approaching vessel. She was now only ten miles off, and the horizon was
clear. Ayrton looked for a moment, and then dropped his glass.
“It is not the Duncan,” said he.
Pencroff sighted the brig again, and made out that she was from 300 to
400 tons burden, and admirably built for sailing. To what nation she
belonged no one could tell.
“And yet,” added the sailor, “there’s a flag floating at her peak, but
I can’t make out her colors.”
“In half an hour we will know for certain,” answered the reporter.
“Besides, it is evident that their captain means to run in shore, and
to-day, or to-morrow at latest, we shall make her acquaintance.”
“No matter, “said Pencroff, “we ought to know with whom we have to
deal, and I shall be glad to make out those colors.”
And he kept the glass steadily at his eye. The daylight began to fail,
and the sea-wind dropped with it. The brig’s flag wrapped itself around
the tackle, and could hardly be seen.
“It is not the American flag,” said Pencroff, at intervals, “nor the
English, whose red would be very conspicuous, nor the French, nor
German colors, nor the white flag of Russia, nor the yellow flag of
Spain. It seems to be of one solid color. Let us see; what would most
likely be found in these waters? The Chilian—no, that flag is
tri-colored; the Brazilian is green; the Japanese is black and yellow;
while this—”
Just then a breeze struck the flag. Ayrton took the glass and raised it
to his eyes.
“Black!” cried he, in a hollow voice.
They had suspected the vessel with good reason. The piratical ensign
was fluttering at the peak!
A dozen ideas rushed across the minds of the colonists; but there was
no doubt as to the meaning of the flag. It was the ensign of the
spoilers of the sea; the ensign which the Duncan would have carried, if
the convicts had succeeded in their criminal design. There was no time
to be lost in discussion.
“My friends,” said Smith, “this vessel, perhaps, is only taking
observations of the coast of our island, and will send no boats on
shore. We must do all we can to hide our presence here. The mill on
Prospect Plateau is too conspicuous. Let Ayrton and Neb go at once and
take down its fans. “We must cover, the windows of Granite House under
thicker branches. Let the fires be put out, and nothing be left to
betray the existence of man!”
“And our sloop?” said Herbert.
“Oh,” said Pencroff, “she is safe in port in Balloon Harbor, and I defy
the rascals to find her there!”
The engineer’s orders were instantly carried out. Neb and Ayrton went
up to the plateau and concealed every trace of human habitation.
Meanwhile their companions went to Jacamar Woods and brought back a
great quantity of branches and climbing plants, which could not, from a
distance, be distinguished from a natural foliation, and would hide
well enough the windows in the rock. At the same time their arms and
munitions were piled ready at hand, in case of a sudden attack. When
all these precautions had been taken Smith turned to his comrades—
“My friends,” said he, in a voice full of emotion, “if these wretches
try to get possession of the island we will defend it, will we not?”
“Yes, Cyrus,” answered the reporter, “and, if need be, we will die in
its defense.”
And they shook hands upon it. Ayrton alone remained seated in his
corner. Perhaps he who had been a convict himself once, still deemed
himself unworthy! Smith understood what was passing in his mind, and,
stepping towards him, asked
“And what will you do, Ayrton?”
“My duty,” replied Ayrton. Then he went to the window, and his eager
gaze sought to penetrate the foliage. It was then half-past 7 o’clock.
The sun had set behind Granite House twenty minutes before, and the
eastern horizon was darkening. The brig was nearing Union Bay. She was
now about eight miles away, and just abreast of Prospect Plateau, for
having tacked off Claw Cape, she had been carried in by the rising
tide. In fact she was already in the bay, for a straight line drawn
from Claw Cape to Mandible Cape would have passed to the other side of
her.
Was the brig going to run into the bay? And if so, would she anchor
there? Perhaps they would be satisfied with taking an observation. They
could do nothing but wait. Smith was profoundly anxious. Had the
pirates been on the island before, since they hoisted their colors on
approaching it? Might they not have effected a descent once before, and
might not some accomplice be now concealed in the unexplored part of
the island. They were determined to resist to the last extremity. All
depended on the arms and the number of the pirates.
Night had come. The new moon had set a few moments after the sun.
Profound darkness enveloped land and sea. Thick masses of clouds were
spread over the sky. The wind had entirely died away. Nothing could be
seen of the vessel, for all her lights were hidden—they could tell
nothing of her whereabouts.
“Who knows?” said Pencroff. “Perhaps the confounded ship will be off by
morning.”
His speech was answered by a brilliant flash from the offing, and the
sound of a gun. The ship was there, and she had artillery. Six seconds
had elapsed between the flash and the report; the brig, therefore, was
about a mile and a-quarter from the shore. Just then, they heard the
noise of chain-cables grinding across the hawse-holes. The vessel was
coming to anchor in sight of Granite House!
CHAPTER XLIV.
DISCUSSIONS—PRESENTIMENTS—AYRTON’S PROPOSAL—IT IS ACCEPTED—AYRTON AND
PENCROFF ON SAFETY ISLET—NORFOLK CONVICTS—THEIR PROJECTS—HEROIC ATTEMPT
OF AYRTON—HIS RETURN—SIX AGAINST FIFTY.
There was no longer room for doubt as to the pirate’s intentions. They
had cast anchor at a short distance from the island, and evidently
intended to land on the morrow.
Brave as they were, the colonists felt the necessity of prudence.
Perhaps their presence could yet be concealed in case the pirates were
contented with landing on the coast without going up into the interior.
The latter, in fact, might have nothing else in view than a supply of
fresh water, and the bridge, a mile and a half up stream, might well
escape their eye.
The colonists knew now that the pirate ship carried heavy artillery,
against which they had nothing but a few shot-guns.
“Still,” said Smith, “our situation is impregnable. The enemy cannot
discover the opening in the weir, so thickly is it covered with reeds
and grass, and consequently cannot penetrate into Granite House.”
“But our plantations, our poultry-yard, our corral,—in short
everything,” cried Pencroff, stamping his foot. “They can destroy
everything in a few hours.”
“Everything, Pencroff!” answered Smith, “and we have no means of
preventing them?”
“Are there many of them?” said the reporter. “That’s the question. If
there are only a dozen, we can stop them, but forty, or fifty, or
more—”
“Mr. Smith,” said Ayrton, coming up to the engineer, “will you grant me
one request!”
“What, my friend?”
“To go to the ship, and ascertain how strongly she is manned.”
“But, Ayrton,” said the engineer, hesitating, “your life will be in
danger.”
“And why not, sir?”
“That is more than your duty.”
“I must do more than my duty,” replied Ayrton.
“You mean to go to the ship in the canoe?” asked Spilett.
“No, sir. I will swim to her. A man can slip in where a boat could not
pass.”
“Do you know that the brig is a mile and a half from the coast?” said
Herbert.”
“I am a good swimmer, sir.”
“I repeat to you that you are risking your life,” resumed the engineer.
“No matter,” answered Ayrton—”Mr. Smith, I ask it as a favor. It may
raise me in my own estimation.”
“Go, Ayrton,” said the engineer, who knew how deeply a refusal would
affect the ex-convict, now become an honest man.
“I will go with you,” said Pencroff.
“You distrust me!” said Ayrton, quickly. Then, he added, more humbly,
“and it is just.”
“No, no!” cried Smith, eagerly, “Pencroff has no such feeling. You have
misunderstood him.”
“Just so,” answered the sailor; “I am proposing to Ayrton to accompany
him only as far as the islet. One of these rascals may possibly have
gone on shore there, and if so, it will take two men to prevent him
from giving the alarm. I will wait for Ayrton on the islet.”
Everything thus arranged, Ayrton got ready for departure. His project
was bold but not impracticable, thanks to the dark night. Once having
reached the ship, Ayrton, by clinging to the chains of the shrouds,
might ascertain the number and perhaps the designs of the convicts.
They walked down upon the beach. Ayrton stripped himself and rubbed
himself with grease, the better to endure the chill of the water; for
he might have to be in it several hours. Meanwhile Pencroff and Neb had
gone after the canoe, fastened on the bank of the Mercy some hundreds
of paces further up. When they came back, Ayrton was ready to start.
They threw a wrap over his shoulders, and shook hands with him all
round. Then he got into the boat with Pencroff, and pushed off into the
darkness. It was now half-past 10, and their companions went back to
wait for them at the Chimneys.
The channel was crossed without difficulty, and the canoe reached the
opposite bank of the islet. They moved cautiously, lest pirates should
have landed there. But the island was deserted. The two walked rapidly
over it, frightening the birds from their nests in the rocks. Having
reached the further side, Ayrton cast himself unhesitatingly into the
sea, and swam noiselessly towards the ship’s lights, which now were
streaming across the water. Pencroff hid himself among the rocks, to
await his companion’s return.
Meanwhile, Ayrton swam strongly towards the ship, slipping through the
water. His head only appeared above the surface; his eyes were fixed on
the dark hull of the brig, whose lights were reflected in the water. He
thought only of his errand, and nothing of the danger he encountered,
not only from the pirates but from the sharks which infested these
waters. The current was in his favor, and the shore was soon far
behind.
Half an hour afterwards, Ayrton, without having been perceived by any
one, dived under the ship, and clung with one hand to the bowsprit.
Then he drew breath, and, raising himself by the chains, climbed to the
end of the cut-water. There some sailors’ clothes hung drying. He found
an easy position, and listened.
They were not asleep on board of the brig. They were talking, singing,
and laughing. These words, intermingled with oaths, came to Ayrton’s
ears;—
“What a famous find our brig was!”
“The Speedy is a fast sailor. She deserves her name.”
“All the Norfolk shipping may do their best to take her.”
“Hurrah for her commander. Hurrah for Bob Harvey!”
Our readers will understand what emotion was excited in Ayrton by this
name, when they learn that Bob Harvey was one of his old companions in
Australia, who had followed out his criminal projects by getting
possession, off Norfolk Island, of this brig, charged with arms,
ammunition, utensils, and tools of all kinds, destined for one of the
Sandwich Islands. All his band had gotten on board, and, adding piracy
to their other crimes, the wretches scoured the Pacific, destroying
ships and massacring their crews. They were drinking deep and talking
loudly over their exploits, and Ayrton gathered the following facts:—
The crew were composed entirely of English convicts, escaped from
Norfolk Island. In 29° 2’ south latitude, and 165° 42’ east longitude,
to the east of Australia, is a little island about six leagues in
circumference, with Mount Pitt rising in the midst, 1,100 feet above
the level of the sea. It is Norfolk Island, the seat of an
establishment where are crowded together the most dangerous of the
transported English convicts. There are 500 of them; they undergo a
rigid discipline, with severe punishment for disobedience, and are
guarded by 150 soldiers and 150 civil servants, under the authority of
a Governor. A worse set of villains cannot be imagined. Sometimes,
though rarely, in spite of the extreme precautions of their jailors,
some of them contrive to escape by seizing a ship, and become the pest
of the Polynesian archipelagos. Thus had done Harvey and his
companions. Thus had Ayrton formerly wished to do. Harvey had seized
the Speedy, which was anchored within sight of Norfolk Island, had
massacred the crew, and for a year had made the brig the terror of the
Pacific.
The convicts were most of them gathered on the poop, in the after part
of the ship; but a few were lying on deck, talking in loud voices. The
conversation went on amid noise and drunkenness. Ayrton gathered that
chance only had brought them within sight of Lincoln Island. Harvey had
never set foot there; but, as Smith had foreseen, coming upon an island
not in the maps, he had determined to go on shore, and, if the land
suited him, to make it the Speedy’s headquarters. The black flag and
the cannon-shot were a mere freak of the pirates, to imitate a
ship-of-war running up her colors.
The colonists were in very serious danger. The island, with its easy
water supply, its little harbor, its varied resources so well turned to
account by the colonists, its secret recesses of Granite House—all
these would be just what the convicts wanted. In their hands the island
would become an excellent place of refuge, and the fact of its being
unknown would add to their security. Of course the colonists would
instantly be put to death. They could not even escape to the interior,
for the convicts would make the island their headquarters, and if they
went on an expedition would leave some of the crew behind. It would be
a struggle for life and death with these wretches, every one of whom
must be destroyed before the colonists would be safe. Those were
Ayrton’s thoughts, and he knew that Smith would agree with him. But was
a successful resistance possible? Everything depended on the calibre of
the brig’s guns and the number of her men. These were facts which
Ayrton must know at any cost.
An hour after he had reached the brig the noise began to subside, and
most of the convicts lay plunged in a drunken sleep. Ayrton determined
to risk himself on the ship’s deck, which the extinguished lanterns
left in profound darkness. He got in the chains by the cut-water, and
by means of the bowsprit climbed to the brig’s forecastle. Creeping
quietly through the sleeping crew, who lay stretched here and there on
the deck, he walked completely around the vessel and ascertained that
the Speedy carried four guns, from eight to ten-pounders. He discovered
also that the guns were breech-loading, of modern make, easily worked,
and capable of doing great damage.
There were about ten men lying on deck, but it might be that others
were asleep in the hold. Moreover, Ayrton had gathered from the
conversation that there were some fifty on board; rather an overmatch
for the six colonists. But, at least, the latter would not be
surprised; thanks to Ayrton’s devotion, they would know their
adversaries force, and would make their dispositions accordingly.
Nothing remained for Ayrton but to go back to his comrades with the
information he had gathered, and he began walking towards the
forecastle to let himself down into the sea.
And now to this man, who wished to do more than his duty, there came a
heroic thought, the thought of sacrificing his life for the safety of
his comrades. Smith could not of course resist fifty well-armed
marauders, who would either overcome him or starve him out. Ayrton
pictured to himself his preservers who had made a man of him, and an
honest man, to whom he owed everything, pitilessly murdered, their
labors brought to nothing, their island changed to a den of pirates. He
said to himself that he, Ayrton, was the first cause of these
disasters, since his old companion, Harvey, had only carried out
Ayrton’s projects; and a feeling of horror came over him. Then came the
irresistible desire to blow up the brig, with all on board. He would
perish in the explosion, but he would have done his duty.
He did not hesitate! It was easy to reach the powder magazine, which is
always in the after part of the ship. Powder must be plenty on board
such a vessel, and a spark would bring destruction.
Ayrton lowered himself carefully between-decks, where he found many of
the pirates lying about, overcome rather by drunkenness than sleep. A
ship’s lantern, was lighted at the foot of the mainmast, from which
hung a rack full of all sorts of firearms. Ayrton took from the rack a
revolver, and made sure that it was loaded and capped. It was all that
he needed to accomplish the work of destruction. Then he glided back to
the poop, where the powder magazine would be.
Between decks it was dark, and he could hardly step without knocking
against some half-asleep convict, and meeting with an oath or a blow.
More than once he had to stop short, but at length he reached the
partition separating the after-compartment, and found the door of the
magazine. This he had to force, and it was a difficult matter to
accomplish without noise, as he had to break a padlock. But at last,
under his vigorous hand, the padlock fell apart and the door opened.
Just then a hand was laid upon his shoulder.
“What are you doing there?” said a harsh voice, and a tall form rose
from the shadow and turned the light of a lantern fall on Ayrton’s
face.
Ayrton turned around sharply. By a quick flash from the lantern, he saw
his old accomplice, Harvey; but the latter, believing Ayrton, as he
did, to be dead, failed to recognize him.
“What are you doing there?” said Harvey, seizing Ayrton by the strap of
his trousers. Ayrton made no answer but a vigorous push, and sprang
forward to the magazine. One shot into those tons of powder, and all
would have been over!
“Help, lads!” cried Harvey.
Two or three pirates, roused by his voice, threw themselves upon
Ayrton, and strove to drag him to the ground. He rid himself of them
with two shots from his revolver; but received in so doing, a wound
from a knife in the fleshy part of the shoulder. He saw in a moment
that his project was no longer feasible. Harvey had shut the door of
the magazine, and a dozen pirates were half-awake. He most save himself
for the sake of his comrades.
Four barrels were left. He discharged two of them right and left, one
at Harvey, though without effect; and then, profiting by his enemies’
momentary recoil, rushed towards the ladder which led to the deck of
the brig. As he passed the lantern he knocked it down with a blow from
the butt-end of his pistol, and left everything in darkness.
Two or three pirates, awakened by the noise, were coming down the
ladder at that moment. A fifth shot stretched one at the foot of the
steps, and the others got out of the way, not understanding what was
going on. In two bounds Ayrton was on the brig’s deck, and three
seconds afterwards, after discharging his last shot at a pirate who
tried to seize him by the neck, he made his way down the netting and
leaped into the sea. He had not swam six fathoms before the bullets
began to whistle around him like hail.
What were the feelings of Pencroff, hidden behind a rock on the islet,
and of his comrades in the Chimneys, when they heard these shots from
the brig! They rushed out upon the shore, and, with their guns at their
shoulders, stood ready to meet any attack. For them no doubt remained.
They believed that Ayrton had been killed, and the pirates were about
to make a descent on the island. Thus half an hour passed away. They
suffered torments of anxiety. They could not go to the assistance of
Ayrton or Pencroff, for the boat had been taken, and the high tide
forbade them crossing the channel.
Finally, at half-past 12, a boat with two men came along shore. It was
Ayrton, with a slight wound in his shoulder, and Pencroff. Their
friends received them with open arms.
Then all took refuge at the Chimneys. There Ayrton told them all that
happened, including his plan to blow up the brig.
Every one grasped the man’s hand, but the situation was desperate. The
pirates knew that Lincoln Island was inhabited, and would come down
upon it in force. They would respect nothing. If the colonists fell
into their hands they had no mercy to hope for!
“We can die like men,” said the reporter.
“Let us go in and keep watch,” said the engineer.
“Do you think there is any chance, Mr. Smith?” said the sailor.
“Yes, Pencroff.”
“How! Six against fifty!”
“Yes, six—and one other—”
“Who?” asked Pencroff.
Smith did not answer, but he looked upwards
CHAPTER XLV.
THE MIST RISES—THE ENGINEER’S DISPOSITION OF FORCES—THREE POSTS—AYRTON
AND PENCROFF—THE FIRST ATTACK —TWO OTHER BOAT LOADS—ON THE ISLET—SIX
CONVICTS ON SHORE—THE BRIG WEIGHS ANCHOR—THE SPEEDY’S
PROJECTILES—DESPERATE SITUATION—UNEXPECTED DENOUEMENT.
The night passed without incident. The colonists were still at the
Chimneys, keeping a constant lookout. The pirates made no attempt at
landing. Since the last shots fired at Ayrton, not a sound betrayed the
presence of the brig in the bay. They might have supposed she had
weighed anchor and gone off in the night.
But it was not so, and when daylight began to appear the colonists
could see her dark hulk dim through the morning mists.
“Listen, my friends,” then said the engineer. “These are the
dispositions it seems to me best to make before the mist dispels, which
conceals us from view. We must make these convicts believe that the
inhabitants of the island are numerous and well able to resist them.
Let us divide ourselves into three groups, one posted at the Chimneys,
one at the mouth of the Mercy, and the third upon the islet, to hinder,
or at least, retard, every attempt to land. We have two carbines and
four guns, so that each of us will be armed; and as we have plenty of
powder and ball, we will not spare our shots. We have nothing to fear
from the guns, nor even from the cannon of the brig. What can they
effect against these rocks? And as we shall not shoot from the windows
of Granite House, the pirates will never think of turning their guns
upon it. What we have to fear is a hand-to-hand fight with an enemy
greatly superior in numbers. We must try to prevent their landing
without showing ourselves. So don’t spare your ammunition. Shoot fast,
and shoot straight. Each of us has eight or ten enemies to kill, and
must kill them.”
Smith had precisely defined the situation, in a voice as quiet as if he
were directing some ordinary work. His companions acted upon his
proposal without a word. Each hastened to take his place before the
mist should be entirely dissipated.
Neb and Pencroff went back to Granite House and brought back thence
abundance of ammunition. Spilett and Ayrton, both excellent shots, were
armed with the two carbines, which would carry nearly a mile. The four
shot-guns were divided between Smith, Neb, Pencroff, and Herbert. The
posts were thus filled:—Smith and Herbert remained in ambush at the
Chimneys, commanding a large radius of the shore in front of Granite
House. Spilett and Neb hid themselves among the rocks at the mouth of
the Mercy (the bridge and causeways over which had been removed), so as
to oppose the passage of any boat or even any landing on the opposite
side. As to Ayrton and Pencroff, they pushed the canoe into the water,
and got ready to push across the channel, to occupy two different
points on the islet, so that the firing, coming from four different
points, might convince the pirates that the island was both well manned
and vigorously defended.
In case a landing should be effected in spite of their opposition, or
should they be in danger of being cut off by a boat from the brig,
Pencroff and Ayrton could return with the canoe to the shore of the
island, and hasten to the threatened point.
Before going to their posts, the colonists shook hands all round.
Pencroff concealed his emotion as he embraced “his boy” Herbert, and
they parted. A few minutes afterwards each was at his post. None of
them could have been seen, for the brig itself was barely visible
through the mist. It was half-past 6 in the morning. Soon the mist rose
gradually; the ocean was covered with ripples, and, a breeze rising,
the sky was soon clear. The Speedy appeared, anchored by two cables,
her head to the north, and her larboard quarter to the island. As Smith
had calculated, she was not more than a mile and a quarter from the
shore. The ominous black flag floated at the peak. The engineer could
see with his glass that the four guns of the ship had been trained on
the island, ready to be fired at the first signal; but so far there was
no sound. Full thirty pirates could be seen coming and going on the
deck. Some were on the poop; two on the transoms of the main topmast
were examining the island with spy-glasses. In fact, Harvey and his
crew must have been exceedingly puzzled by the adventure of the night,
and especially by Ayrton’s attempt upon the powder magazine. But they
could not doubt that the island before them was inhabited by a colony
ready to defend it. Yet no one could be seen either on the shore or the
high ground.
For an hour and a half there was no sign of attack from the brig.
Evidently Harvey was hesitating. But about 8 o’clock there was a
movement on board. They were hauling at the tackle, and a boat was
being let down into the sea. Seven men jumped into it, their guns in
their hands. One was at the tiller, four at the oars, and the two
others squatting in the bow, ready to shoot, examined the island. No
doubt their intention was to make a reconnoissance, and not to land, or
they would have come in greater number.
The pirates, perched on the rigging of the topmast, had evidently
perceived that an islet concealed the shore, lying about half a mile
away. The boat was apparently not running for the channel, but was
making for the islet, as the most prudent beginning of the
reconnoissance. Pencroff and Ayrton, lying hidden among the rocks, saw
it coming down upon them, and even waiting for it to get within good
reach.
It came on with extreme caution. The oars fell at considerable
intervals. One of the convicts seated in front had a sounding-line in
his hand, with which he was feeling for the increased depth of water
caused by the current of the Mercy. This indicated Harvey’s intention
of bringing his brig as near shore as possible. About thirty pirates
were scattered among the shrouds watching the boat and noting certain
sea-marks which would enable them to land without danger. The boat was
but two cables’ length from the islet when it stopped. The helmsman,
standing erect, was trying to find the best place to land. In a moment
burst forth a double flash and report. The helmsman and the man with
the line fell over into the boat. Ayrton and Pencroff had done their
work. Almost at once came a puff of smoke from the brig, and a cannon
ball struck the rock, at whose foot the two lay sheltered, making it
fly into shivers; but the marksmen remained unhurt.
With horrible imprecations the boat resumed its course. The helmsman
was replaced by one of his comrades, and the crew bent to their oars,
eager to get beyond reach of bullets. Instead of turning back, they
pulled for the southern extremity of the islet, evidently with the
intention of coming up on the other side and putting Pencroff and
Ayrton between two fires. A quarter of an hour passed thus without a
sound. The defenders of the islet, though they understood the object of
the flanking movement, did not leave their post. They feared the cannon
of the Speedy, and counted upon their comrades in ambush.
Twenty minutes after the first shots, the boat was less than two
cables’ length off the Mercy. The tide was running up stream with its
customary swiftness, due to the narrowness of the river, and the
convicts had to row hard to keep themselves in the middle of the
channel. But as they were passing within easy range of the river’s
mouth, two reports were heard, and two of the crew fell back into the
boat. Neb and Spilett had not missed their shot. The brig opened fire
upon their hiding place, which was indicated by the puff of smoke; but
with no result beyond shivering a few rocks.
The boat now contained only three men fit for action. Getting into the
current, it shot up the channel like an arrow, passed Smith and
Herbert, who feared to waste a shot upon it, and turned the northern
point of the islet, whence the two remaining oarsmen pulled across to
the brig.
So far the colonists could not complain. Their adversaries had lost the
first point in the game. Four pirates had been grievously wounded,
perhaps killed, while they were without a scratch. Moreover, from the
skilful disposition of their little force, it had no doubt given the
impression of a much greater number.
A half hour elapsed before the boat, which was rowing against the
current, could reach the Speedy. The wounded were lifted on deck, amid
howls of rage. A dozen furious convicts manned the boat; another was
lowered into the sea, and eight more jumped into it; and while the
former rowed straight for the islet, the latter steered around its
southern point, heading for the Mercy.
Pencroff and Ayrton were in a perilous situation. They waited till the
first boat was within easy range, sent two balls into her, to the great
discomfort of the crew; then they took to their heels, running the
gauntlet of a dozen shots, reached their canoe on the other side of the
islet, crossed the channel just as the second boat load of pirates
rounded the southern point, and hastened to hide themselves at the
Chimneys. They had hardly rejoined Smith and Herbert, when the islet
was surrounded and thoroughly searched by the pirates.
Almost at the same moment shots were heard from the mouth of the Mercy.
As the second boat approached them, Spilett and Neb disposed of two of
the crew; and the boat itself was irresistibly hurried upon the rocks
at the mouth of the river. The six survivors, holding their guns above
their heads to keep them from contact with the water, succeeded in
getting on shore on the right bank of the river; and, finding
themselves exposed to the fire of a hidden enemy, made off towards
Jetsam Point, and were soon out of range.
On the islet, therefore, there were twelve convicts, of whom some no
doubt were wounded, but who had a boat at their service. Six more had
landed on the island itself, but Granite House was safe from them, for
they could rot get across the river, the bridges over which were
raised.
“What do you think of the situation, Mr. Smith?” said Pencroff.
“I think,” said the engineer, “that unless these rascals are very
stupid, the battle will soon take a new form.”
“They will never get across the channel,” said Pencroff. “Ayrton and
Mr. Spilett have guns that will carry a mile!”
“No doubt,” said Herbert, “but of what avail are two carbines against
the brig’s cannon?”
“The brig is not in the channel yet,” replied Pencroff.
“And suppose she comes there?” said Smith.
“She will risk foundering and utter destruction.”
“Still it is possible,” said Ayrton. “The convicts may profit by the
high tide to run into the channel, taking the risk of running aground;
and then, under their heavy guns, our position will become untenable.”
“By Jove!” said the sailor, “the beggars are weighing anchor.”
It was but too true. The Speedy began to heave her anchor, and showed
her intention of approaching the islet.
Meanwhile, the pirates on the islet had collected on the brink of the
channel. They knew that the colonists were out of reach of their
shot-guns, but forgot that their enemies, might carry weapons of longer
range. Suddenly, the carbines of Ayrton and Spilett rang out together,
carrying news to the convicts, which must have been very disagreeable,
for two of them fell flat on their faces. There was a general scamper.
The other ten, leaving their wounded or dying comrades, rushed to the
other side of the islet, sprang into the boat which had brought them
over, and rowed rapidly off.
“Eight off!” cried Pencroff, exultingly.
But a more serious danger was at hand. The Speedy had raised her
anchor, and was steadily nearing the shore. From their two posts at the
Mercy and the Chimneys, the colonists watched her movements without
stirring a finger, but not without lively apprehension. Their situation
would be most critical, exposed as they would be at short range to the
brig’s cannon, without power to reply by an effective fire. How then
could they prevent the pirates from landing?
Smith felt that in a few minutes he must make up his mind what to do.
Should they shut themselves up in Granite House, and stand a siege
there? But their enemies would thus become masters of the island, and
starve them out at leisure. One chance was still left; perhaps Harvey
would not risk his ship in the channel. If he kept outside his shots
would be fired from a distance of half a mile, and would do little
execution.
“Bob Harvey is too good a sailor,” repeated Pencroff, “to risk his ship
in the channel. He knows that he would certainly lose her if the sea
turned rough! And what would become of him without his ship?”
But the brig came nearer and nearer, and was evidently heading for the
lower extremity of the islet. The breeze was faint, the current slack,
and Harvey could manœuvre in safety. The route followed by the boats
had enabled him to ascertain where the mouth of the river was, and he
was making for it with the greatest audacity. He intended to bring his
broadside to bear on the Chimneys, and to riddle them with shell and
cannon balls. The Speedy soon reached the extremity of the islet,
easily turning it, and, with a favoring wind, was soon off the Mercy.
“The villains are here!” cried Pencroff. As he spoke, Neb and Spilett
rejoined their comrades. They could do nothing against the ship, and it
was better that the colonists should be together when the decisive
action was about to take place. Neither of the two were injured, though
a shower of balls had been poured upon them as they ran from rock to
rock.
“You are not wounded, lad?” said the engineer.
“No, only a few contusions from the ricochet of a ball. But that cursed
brig is in the channel!”
“We must take refuge in Granite House,” said Smith, “while we have
time, and before the convicts can see us. Once inside, we can act as
the occasion demands.”
“Let us start at once, then,” said the reporter.
There was not a moment to lose. Two or three detonations, and the thud
of balls on the rocks apprised them that the Speedy was near at hand.
To jump into the elevator, to hoist themselves to the door of Granite
House, where Top and Jup had been shut up since the day before, and to
rush into the great hall, was the work of a moment. Through the leaves
they saw the Speedy, environed with smoke, moving up the channel. They
had not left a moment too soon, for balls were crashing everywhere
through the hiding places they had quitted. The rocks were splintered
to pieces.
Still they hoped that Granite House would escape notice behind its
leafy covering, when suddenly a ball passed through the doorway and
penetrated into the corridor.
“The devil! we are discovered!” cried Pencroff.
But perhaps the colonists had not been seen, and Harvey had only
suspected that something lay behind the leafy screen of the rock. And
soon another ball, tearing apart the foliage, exposed the opening in
the granite.
The situation of the colonists was now desperate. They could make no
answer to the fire, under which the rock was crashing around them.
Nothing remained but to take refuge in the upper corridor of Granite
House, giving up their abode to devastation, when a hollow sound was
heard, followed by dreadful shrieks!
Smith and his comrades rushed to the window.
The brig, lifted on the summit of a sort of waterspout, had just split
in half; and in less than ten seconds she went to the bottom with her
wicked crew!!
CHAPTER XLVI.
THE COLONISTS ON THE BEACH—AYRTON AND PENCROFF AS SALVORS—TALK AT
BREAKFAST—PENCROFF’S REASONING—EXPLORATION OF THE BRIG’S HULL IN
DETAIL—THE MAGAZINE UNINJURED—NEW RICHES—A DISCOVERY—A PIECE OF A
BROKEN CYLINDER.
“They have blown up!” cried Herbert.
“Yes, blown up as if Ayrton had fired the magazine,” answered Pencroff,
jumping into the elevator with Neb and the boy,
“But what has happened?” said Spilett, still stupefied at the
unexpected issue.
“Ah, this time we shall find out—” said the engineer,
“What shall we find out?”
“All in time; the chief thing is that the pirates have been disposed
of.”
And they rejoined the rest of the party on beach. Not a sign of the
brig could be seen, not even the masts. After having been upheaved by
the water-spout, it had fallen back upon its side, and had sunk in this
position, doubtless owing to some enormous leak.’ As the channel here
was only twenty feet deep, the masts of the brig would certainly
reappear at low tide.
Some waifs were floating on the surface of the sea. There was a whole
float, made up of masts and spare yards, chicken coops with the fowls
still living, casks and barrels, which little by little rose to the
surface, having escaped by the traps; but no debris was adrift, no
flooring of the deck, no plankage of the hull; and the sudden sinking
of the Speedy seemed still more inexplicable.
However, the two masts, which had been broken some feet above the
“partner,” after having snapped their stays and shrouds, soon rose to
the surface of the channel, with their sails attached, some of them
furled and some unfurled. But they could not wait for low tide to carry
away all their riches, and Ayrton and Pencroff jumped into the canoe,
for the purpose of lashing these waifs either to the shore of the
island or of the islet. But just as they were about to start, they were
stopped by a word from Spilett.
“And the six convicts who landed on the right bank of the Mercy,” said
he.
In fact, it was as well to remember the six men who had landed at
Jetsam Point, when their boat was wrecked off the rocks. They looked in
that direction, but the fugitives were not to be seen. Very likely,
when they saw the brig go down, they had taken flight into the interior
of the island.
“We will see after them later,” said Smith. “They may still be
dangerous, for they are armed; but with six to six, we have an even
chance. Now we have more urgent work on hand.”
Ayrton and Pencroff jumped into the canoe and pulled vigorously out to
the wreck. The sea was quiet now and very high, for the moon was only
two days old. It would be a full hour before the hull of the brig would
appear above the water of the channel.
Ayrton and Pencroff had time enough to lash together the masts and
spars by means of ropes, whose other end was carried along the shore to
Granite House, where the united efforts of the colonists succeeded in
hauling them in. Then the canoe picked up the chicken coops, barrels,
and casks which were floating in the water, and brought them to the
Chimneys.
A few dead bodies were also floating on the surface. Among them Ayrton
recognized that of Bob Harvey, and pointed it out to his companion,
saying with emotion:—
“That’s what I was, Pencroff.”
“But what you are no longer, my worthy fellow,” replied the sailor.
It was a curious thing that so few bodies could be seen floating on the
surface. They could count only five or six, which the current was
already carrying out to sea. Very likely the convicts, taken by
surprise, had not had time to escape, and the ship having sunk on its
side, the greater part of the crew were left entangled under the
nettings. So the ebb which was carrying the bodies of these wretches
out to sea would spare the colonists the unpleasant task of burying
them on the island.
For two hours Smith and his companions were wholly occupied with
hauling the spars up on the sands, and in unfurling the sails, which
were entirely uninjured, and spreading them out to dry. The work was so
absorbing that they talked but little; but they had time for thought.
What a fortune was the possession of the brig, or rather of the brig’s
contents! A ship is a miniature world, and the colonists could add to
their stock a host of useful articles. It was a repetition, on a large
scale, of the chest found on Jetsam Point.
“Moreover,” thought Pencroff, “why should it be impossible to get this
brig afloat? If she has only one leak, a leak can be stopped up, and a
ship of 300 or 400 tons is a real ship compared to our Good Luck! We
would go where we pleased in her. We must look into this matter. It is
well worth the trouble.”
In fact, if the brig could be repaired, their chance of getting home
again would be very much greater. But in order to decide this important
question, they must wait until the tide was at its lowest, so that the
brig’s hull could be examined in every part.
After their prizes had been secured upon the beach, Smith and his
companions, who were nearly famished, allowed themselves a few minutes
for breakfast. Fortunately the kitchen was not far off, and Neb could
cook them a good breakfast in a jiffy. They took this meal at the
Chimneys, and one can well suppose that they talked of nothing during
the repast but the miraculous deliverance of the colony.
“Miraculous is the word,” repeated Pencroff, “for we must own that
these blackguards were blown up just in time! Granite House was
becoming rather uncomfortable.”
“Can you imagine, Pencroff, how it happened that the brig blew up?”
asked the reporter.
“Certainly, Mr. Spilett; nothing is more simple,” replied Pencroff. “A
pirate is not under the same discipline as a ship-of-war. Convicts
don’t make sailors. The brig’s magazine must have been open, since she
cannonaded us incessantly, and one awkward fellow might have blown up
the ship.”
“Mr. Smith,” said Herbert, “what astonishes me is that this explosion
did not produce more effect. The detonation was not loud, and the ship
is very little broken up. She seems rather to have sunk than to have
blown up.”
“That astonishes you, does it, my boy?” asked the engineer.
“Yes, sir.”
“And it astonishes me too, Herbert,” replied the engineer; “but when we
examine the hull of the brig, we shall find some explanation of this
mystery.”
“Why, Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff, “you don’t mean to say that the Speedy
has just sunk like a ship which strikes upon a rock?”
“Why not,” asked Neb, “if there are rocks in the channel?”
“Good, Neb,” said Pencroff. “You did not look at the right minute. An
instant before she went down I saw the brig rise on an enormous wave,
and fall back over to larboard. Now, if she had struck a rock, she’d
have gone straight to the bottom like an honest ship.”
“And that’s just what she is not,” said Neb.
“Well, we’ll soon find out, Pencroff,” said the engineer.
“We will find out,” added the sailor, “but I’ll bet my head there are
no rocks in the channel. But do you really think, Mr. Smith, that there
is anything wonderful in this event?”
Smith did not answer.
“At all events,” said Spilett, “whether shock or explosion, you must
own, Pencroff, that it came in good time.”
“Yes! yes!” replied the sailor, “but that is not the question. I ask
Mr. Smith if he sees anything supernatural in this affair?”
“I give no opinion, Pencroff,” said the engineer; a reply which was not
satisfactory to Pencroff, who believed in the explosion theory, and was
reluctant to give it up. He refused to believe that in the channel
which he had crossed so often at low tide, and whose bottom was covered
with sand as fine as that of the beach, there existed an unknown reef.
At about half-past 1, the colonists got into the canoe, and pulled out
to the stranded brig. It was a pity that her two boats had not been
saved; but one, they knew, had gone to pieces at the mouth of the
Mercy, and was absolutely useless, and the other had gone down with the
brig, and had never reappeared.
Just then the hull of the Speedy began to show itself above the water.
The brig had turned almost upside down, for after having broken its
masts under the weight of its ballast, displaced by the fall, it lay
with its keel in the air. The colonists rowed all around the hull, and
as the tide fell, they perceived, if not the cause of the catastrophe,
at least the effect produced. In the fore part of the brig, on both
sides of the hull, seven or eight feet before the beginning of the
stem, the sides were fearfully shattered for at least twenty feet.
There yawned two large leaks which it would have been impossible to
stop. Not only had the copper sheathing and the planking disappeared,
no doubt ground to powder, but there was not a trace of the timbers,
the iron bolts, and the treenails which fastened them. The false-keel
had been torn off with surprising violence, and the keel itself, torn
from the carlines in several places, was broken its whole length.
“The deuce!” cried Pencroff, “here’s a ship which will be hard to set
afloat.”
“Hard! It will be impossible,” said Ayrton.
“At all events,” said Spilett, “the explosion, if there has been an
explosion, has produced the most remarkable effects. It has smashed the
lower part of the hull, instead of blowing up the deck and the
topsides. These great leaks seem rather to have been made by striking a
reef than by the explosion of a magazine.”
“There’s not a reef in the channel,” answered the sailor. “I will admit
anything but striking a reef.”
“Let us try to get into the hold,” said the engineer. “Perhaps that
will help us to discover the cause of the disaster.”
This was the best course to take, and would moreover enable them to
make an inventory of the treasures contained in the brig, and to get
them ready for transportation to the island. Access to the hold was now
easy; the tide continued to fall, and the lower deck, which, as the
brig lay, was now uppermost, could easily be reached. The ballast,
composed of heavy pigs of cast iron, had staved it in several places.
They heard the roaring of the sea, as it rushed through the fissures of
the hull.
Smith and his companions, axe in hand, walked along the shattered deck.
All kinds of chests encumbered it, and as they had not been long under
water, perhaps their contents had not been damaged.
They set to work at once to put this cargo in safety. The tide would
not return for some hours, and these hours were utilized to the utmost
at the opening into the hull. Ayrton and Pencroff had seized upon
tackle which served to hoist the barrels and chests. The canoe received
them, and took them ashore at once. They took everything
indiscriminately, and left the sorting of their prizes to the future.
In any case, the colonists, to their extreme satisfaction, had made
sure that the brig possessed a varied cargo, an assortment of all kinds
of articles, utensils, manufactured products, and tools, such as ships
are loaded with for the coasting trade of Polynesia. They would
probably find there a little of everything, which was precisely what
they needed on Lincoln Island.
Nevertheless, Smith noticed, in silent astonishment, that not only the
hull of the brig had suffered frightfully from whatever shock it was
which caused the catastrophe, but the machinery was destroyed,
especially in the fore part. Partitions and stanchions were torn down
as if some enormous shell had burst inside of the brig. The colonists,
by piling on one side the boxes which littered their path, could easily
go from stem to stern. They were not heavy bales which would have been
difficult to handle, but mere packages thrown about in utter confusion.
The colonists soon reached that part of the stern where the poop
formerly stood. It was here Ayrton told them they must search for the
powder magazine. Smith, believing that this had not exploded, thought
they might save some barrels, and that the powder, which is usually in
metal cases, had not been damaged by the water. In fact, this was just
what had happened. They found, among a quantity of projectiles, at
least twenty barrels, which were lined with copper, and which they
pulled out with great care. Pencroff was now convinced by his own eyes
that the destruction of the Speedy could not have been caused by an
explosion. The part of the hull in which the powder magazine was
situated was precisely the part which had suffered the least.
“It may be so,” replied the obstinate sailor, “but as to a rock, there
is not one in the channel.” Then he added:—”I know nothing about it,
even Mr. Smith does not know. No one knows, or ever will.”
Several hours passed in these researches, and the tide was beginning to
rise. They had to stop their work of salvage, but there was no fear
that the wreck would be washed out to sea, for it was as solidly
imbedded as if it had been anchored to the bottom. They could wait with
impunity for the turn of the tide to commence operations. As to the
ship itself, it was of no use; but they must hasten to save the debris
of the hull, which would not take long to disappear in the shifting
sands of the channel.
It was 5 o’clock in the afternoon. The day had been a hard one, and
they sat down to their dinner with great appetite; but afterwards,
notwithstanding their fatigue, they could not resist the desire of
examining some of the chests. Most of them contained ready-made
clothes, which, as may be imagined, were very welcome. There was enough
to clothe a whole colony, linen of every description, boots of all
sizes.
“Now we are too rich,” cried Pencroff. “What shall we do with all these
things?”
Every moment the sailor uttered exclamations of joy, as he came upon
barrels of molasses and rum, hogsheads of tobacco, muskets and
side-arms, bales of cotton, agricultural implements, carpenters’ and
smiths’ tools, and packages of seeds of every kind, uninjured by their
short sojourn in the water. Two years before, how these things would
have come in season! But even now that the industrious colonists were
so well supplied, these riches would be put to use.
There was plenty of storage room in Granite House, but time failed them
now to put everything in safety. They must not forget that six
survivors of the Speedy’s crew were now on the island, scoundrels of
the deepest dye, against whom they must be on their guard.
Although the bridge over the Mercy and the culverts had been raised,
the convicts would make little account of a river or a brook; and,
urged by despair, these rascals would be formidable. Later, the
colonists could decide what course to take with regard to them; in the
meantime, the chests and packages piled up near the Chimneys must be
watched over, and to this they devoted themselves during the night.
The night passed, however, without any attack from the convicts. Master
Jup and Top, of the Granite House guard, would have been quick to give
notice.
The three days which followed, the 19th, 20th, and 21st of October,
were employed in carrying on shore everything of value either in the
cargo or in the rigging. At low tide they cleaned out the hold, and at
high tide, stowed away their prizes. A great part of the copper
sheathing could be wrenched from the hull, which every day sank deeper;
but before the sands had swallowed up the heavy articles which had sunk
to the bottom, Ayrton and Pencroff dived and brought up the chains and
anchors of the brig, the iron ballast, and as many as four cannon,
which could be eased along upon empty barrels and brought to land; so
that the arsenal of the colony gained as much from the wreck as the
kitchens and store-rooms. Pencroff, always enthusiastic in his
projects, talked already about constructing a battery which should
command the channel and the mouth of the river. With four cannon, he
would guarantee to prevent any fleet, however powerful, from coming
within gunshot of the island.
Meanwhile, after nothing of the brig had been left but a useless shell,
the bad weather came to finish its destruction. Smith had intended to
blow it up, so as to collect the debris on shore, but a strong
northeast wind and a high sea saved his powder for him. On the night of
the 23d, the hull was thoroughly broken up, and part of the wreck
stranded on the beach. As to the ship’s papers, it is needless to say,
although they carefully rummaged the closet in the poop, Smith found no
trace of them. The pirates had evidently destroyed all that concerned
either the captain or the owner of the Speedy, and as the name of its
port was not painted on the stern, there was nothing to betray its
nationality. However, from the shape of the bow, Ayrton and Pencroff
believed the brig to be of English construction.
A week after the ship went down, not a trace of her was to be seen even
at low tide. The wreck had gone to pieces, and Granite House had been
enriched with almost all its contents. But the mystery of its strange
destruction would never have been cleared up, if Neb, rambling along
the beach, had not come upon a piece of a thick iron cylinder, which
bore traces of an explosion. It was twisted and torn at the edge, as if
it had been submitted to the action of an explosive substance. Neb took
it to his master, who was busy with his companions in the workshop at
the Chimneys. Smith examined it carefully, and then turned to Pencroff.
“Do you still maintain, my friend,” said he, “that the Speedy did not
perish by a collision?”
“Yes, Mr. Smith,” replied the sailor, “you know as well as I that there
are no rocks in the channel.”
“But suppose it struck against this piece of iron?” said the engineer,
showing the broken cylinder.
“What, that pipe stem!” said Pencroff, incredulously.
“Do you remember, my friends,” continued Smith, “that before foundering
the brig was lifted up by a sort of waterspout?”
“Yes, Mr. Smith,” said Herbert.
“Well, this was the cause of the waterspout,” said Smith, holding up
the broken tube.
“That?” answered Pencroff.
“Yes; this cylinder is all that is left of a torpedo!”
“A torpedo!” cried they all.
“And who put a torpedo there?” asked Pencroff, unwilling to give up.
“That I cannot tell you,” said Smith, “but there it was, and you
witnessed its tremendous effects!”
CHAPTER XLVII
THE ENGINEER’S THEORY—PENCROFF’S MAGNIFICENT SUPPOSITIONS—A BATTERY IN
THE AIR—FOUR PROJECTILES—THE SURVIVING CONVICTS—AYRTON
HESITATES—SMITH’S GENEROSITY AND PENCROFF’S DISSATISFACTION.
Thus, then, everything was explained by the submarine action of this
torpedo. Smith had had some experience during the civil war of these
terrible engines of destruction, and was not likely to be mistaken.
This cylinder, charged with nitro-glycerine, had been the cause of the
column of water rising in the air, of the sinking of the brig, and of
the shattered condition of her hull. Everything was accounted for,
except the presence of this torpedo in the waters of the channel!
“My friends,” resumed Smith, “we can no longer doubt the existence of
some mysterious being, perhaps a castaway like ourselves, inhabiting
our island. I say this that Ayrton may be informed of all the strange
events which have happened for two years. Who our unknown benefactor
may be, I cannot say, nor why he should hide himself after rendering us
so many services; but his services are not the less real, and such as
only a man could render who wielded some prodigious power. Ayrton is
his debtor as well; as he saved me from drowning after the fall of the
balloon, so he wrote the document, set the bottle afloat in the
channel, and gave us information of our comrade’s condition. He
stranded on Jetsam Point that chest, full of all that we needed; he
lighted that fire on the heights of the island which showed you where
to land; he fired that ball which we found in the body of the peccary;
he immersed in the channel that torpedo which destroyed the brig; in
short, he has done all those inexplicable things of which we could find
no explanation. Whatever he is, then, whether a castaway or an exile,
we should be ungrateful not to feel how much we owe him. Some day, I
hope, we shall discharge our debt.”
“We may add,” replied Spilett, “that this unknown friend has a way of
doing things which seems supernatural. If he did all these wonderful
things, he possesses a power which makes him master of the elements.”
“Yes,” said Smith, “there is a mystery here, but if we discover the man
we shall discover the mystery also. The question is this:—Shall we
respect the incognito of this generous being, or should we try to find
him? What do you think?”
“Master,” said Neb, “I have an idea that we may hunt for him as long as
we please, but that we shall only find him when he chooses to make
himself known.”
“There’s something in that, Neb,” said Pencroff.
“I agree with you, Neb,” said Spilett; “but that is no reason for not
making the attempt. Whether we find this mysterious being or not, we
shall have fulfilled our duty towards him.”
“And what is your opinion, my boy?” said the engineer, turning to
Herbert.
“Ah,” cried Herbert, his eye brightening; “I want to thank him, the man
who saved you first and now has saved us all.”
“It wouldn’t be unpleasant for any of us, my boy,” returned Pencroff.
“I am not curious, but I would give one of my eyes to see him face to
face.”
“And you, Ayrton?” asked the engineer.
“Mr. Smith,” replied Ayrton, “I can give no advice. Whatever you do
will be right, and whenever you want my help in your search, I am
ready.”
“Thanks, Ayrton,” said Smith, “but I want a more direct answer. You are
our comrade, who has offered his life more than once to save ours, and
we will take no important step without consulting you.”
“I think, Mr. Smith,” replied Ayrton, “that we ought to do everything
to discover our unknown benefactor. He may be sick or suffering. I owe
him a debt of gratitude which I can never forget, for he brought you to
save me. I will never forget him!”
“It is settled,” said Smith. “We will begin our search as soon as
possible. We will leave no part of the island unexplored. We will pry
into its most secret recesses, and may our unknown friend pardon our
zeal!”
For several days the colonists were actively at work haymaking and
harvesting. Before starting upon their exploring tour, they wanted to
finish all their important labors. Now, too, was the time for gathering
the vegetable products of Tabor Island. Everything had to be stored;
and, happily, there was plenty of room in Granite House for all the
riches of the island. There all was ranged in order, safe from man or
beast. No dampness was to be feared in the midst of this solid mass of
granite. Many of the natural excavations in the upper corridor were
enlarged by the pick, or blown out by mining, and Granite House thus
became a receptacle for all the goods of the colony.
The brig’s guns were pretty pieces of cast-steel, which, at Pencroff’s
instance, were hoisted, by means of tackle and cranes, to the very
entrance of Granite House; embrasures were constructed between the
windows, and soon they could be seen stretching their shining nozzles
through the granite wall. From this height these fire-breathing gentry
had the range of all Union Bay. It was a little Gibraltar, to whose
fire every ship off the islet would inevitably be exposed.
“Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff one day—it was the 8th of November—“now that
we have mounted our guns, we ought to try their range.”
“For what purpose?”
“Well, we ought to know how far we can send a ball.”
“Try, then, Pencroff,” answered the engineer; “but don’t use our
powder, whose stock I do not want to diminish; use pyroxyline, whose
supply will never fail.”
“Can these cannon support the explosive force of pyroxyline?” asked the
reporter, who was as eager as Pencroff to try their new artillery.
“I think so. Besides,” added the engineer, “we will be careful.”
Smith had good reason to think that these cannon were well made. They
were of cast steel, and breech-loaders, they could evidently bear a
heavy charge, and consequently would have a long range, on account of
the tremendous initial velocity.
“Now,” said Smith, “the initial velocity being a question of the amount
of powder in the charge, everything depends upon the resisting power of
the metal; and steel is undeniably the best metal in this respect; so
that I have great hope of our battery.”
The four cannon were in perfect condition. Ever since they had been
taken out of the water, Pencroff had made it his business to give them
a polish. How many hours had been spent in rubbing them, oiling them,
and cleaning the separate parts! By this time they shone as if they had
been on board of a United States frigate.
That very day, in the presence of all the colony, including Jup and
Top, the new guns were successively tried. They were charged with
pyroxyline, which, as we have said, has an explosive force fourfold
that of gunpowder; the projectile was cylindro-conical in shape.
Pencroff, holding the fuse, stood ready to touch them off.
Upon a word from Smith, the shot was fired. The ball, directed seaward,
passed over the islet and was lost in the offing, at a distance which
could not be computed.
The second cannon was trained upon the rocks terminating Jetsam Point,
and the projectile, striking a sharp boulder nearly three miles from
Granite House, made it fly into shivers. Herbert had aimed and fired
the shot, and was quite proud of his success. But Pencroff was prouder
of it even than he. Such a feather in his boy’s cap!
The third projectile, aimed at the downs which formed the upper coast
of Union Bay, struck the sand about four miles away, then ricocheted
into the water. The fourth piece was charged heavily to test its
extreme range, and every one got out of the way for fear it would
burst; then the fuse was touched off by means of a long string. There
was a deafening report, but the gun stood the charge, and the
colonists, rushing to the windows, could see the projectile graze the
rocks of Mandible Cape, nearly five miles from Granite House, and
disappear in Shark Gulf.
“Well, Mr. Smith,” said Pencroff, who had cheered at every shot, “what
do you say to our battery? I should like to see a pirate land now!”
“Better have them stay away, Pencroff,” answered the engineer.
“Speaking of that,” said the sailor, “what are we going to do with the
six rascals who are prowling about the island? Shall we let them roam
about unmolested? They are wild beasts, and I think we should treat
them as such. What do you think about it, Ayrton?” added Pencroff,
turning towards his companion.
Ayrton hesitated for a moment, while Smith regretted the abrupt
question, and was sincerely touched when Ayrton answered humbly:—
“I was one of these wild beasts once, Mr. Pencroff, and I am not worthy
to give counsel.”
And, with bent head, he walked slowly away. Pencroff understood him.
“Stupid ass that I am!” cried he. “Poor Ayrton! and yet he has as good
a right to speak as any of us. I would rather have bitten off my tongue
than have given him pain! But, to go back to the subject, I think these
wretches have no claim to mercy, and that we should rid the island of
them.”
“And before we hunt them down, Pencroff, shall we not wait for some
fresh act of hostility?”
“Haven’t they done enough already?” said the sailor, who could not
understand these refinements.
“They may repent,” said Smith.
“They repent!” cried the sailor, shrugging his shoulders.
“Think of Ayrton, Pencroff!” said Herbert, taking his hand. “He has
become an honest man.”
Pencroff looked at his companions In stupefaction. He could not admit
the possibility of making terms with the accomplices of Harvey, the
murderers of the Speedy’s crew.
“Be it so!” he said. “You want to be magnanimous to these rascals. May
we never repent of it!”
“What danger do we run if we are on our guard?” said Herbert.
“H’m!” said the reporter, doubtfully. “There are six of them, well
armed. If each of them sighted one of us from behind a tree—”
“Why haven’t they tried it already?” said Herbert. “Evidently it was
not their cue.”
“Very well, then,” said the sailor, who was stubborn in his opinion,
“we will let these worthy fellows attend to their innocent occupations
without troubling our heads about them.”
“Pencroff,” said the engineer, “you have often shown respect for my
opinions. Will you trust me once again?”
“I will do whatever you say, Mr. Smith,” said the sailor, nowise
convinced.
“Well, let us wait, and not be the first to attack.”
This was the final decision, with Pencroff in the minority. They would
give the pirates a chance, which their own interest might induce them
to seize upon, to come to terms. So much, humanity required of them.
But they would have to be constantly on their guard, and the situation
was a very serious one. They had silenced Pencroff, but, perhaps, after
all, his advice would prove sound.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
THE PROJECTED EXPEDITION—AYRTON AT THE CORRAL—VISIT TO PORT
BALLOON—PENCROFF’S REMARKS—DESPATCH SENT TO THE CORRAL—NO ANSWER FROM
AYRTON—SETTING OUT NEXT DAY—WHY THE WIRE DID NOT ACT—A DETONATION.
Meanwhile the thing uppermost in the colonists’ thought was to achieve
the complete exploration of the island which had been decided upon, an
exploration which now would have two objects: —First, to discover the
mysterious being whose existence was no longer a matter of doubt; and,
at the same time to find out what had become of the pirates, what
hiding place they had chosen, what sort of life they were leading, and
what was to be feared from them.
Smith would have set off at once, but as the expedition would take
several days, it seemed better to load the wagon with all the
necessaries for camping out. Now at this time one of the onagers,
wounded in the leg, could not bear harness; it must have several days’
rest, and they thought it would make little difference if they delayed
the departure a week, that is, till November 20. November in this
latitude corresponds to the May of the Northern Hemisphere, and the
weather was fine. They were now at the longest days in the year, so
that everything was favorable to the projected expedition, which, if it
did not attain its principal object, might be fruitful in discoveries,
especially of the products of the soil; for Smith intended to explore
those thick forests of the Far West, which stretched to the end of
Serpentine Peninsula.
During the nine days which would precede their setting out, it was
agreed that they should finish work on Prospect Plateau. But Ayrton had
to go back to the corral to take care of their domesticated animals. It
was settled that he should stay there two days, and leave the beasts
with plenty of fodder. Just as he was setting out, Smith asked him if
he would like to have one of them with him, as the island was no longer
secure. Ayrton replied that it would be useless, as he could do
everything by himself, and that there was no danger to fear. If
anything happened at or near the corral, he would instantly acquaint
the colonists of it by a telegram sent to Granite House.
So Ayrton drove off in the twilight, about 9 o’clock, behind one
onager, and two hours afterwards the electric wire gave notice that he
had found everything in order at the corral.
During these two days Smith was busy at a project which would finally
secure Granite House from a surprise. The point was to hide completely
the upper orifice of the former weir, which had been already blocked up
with stones, and half hidden under grass and plants, at the southern
angle of Lake Grant. Nothing could be easier, since by raising the
level of the lake two or three feet, the hole would be entirely under
water.
Now to raise the level, they had only to make a dam across the two
trenches by which Glycerine Creek and Waterfall Creek were fed. The
colonists were incited to the task, and the two dams, which were only
seven or eight feet long, by three feet high, were rapidly erected of
closely cemented stones. When the work had been done, no one could have
suspected the existence of the subterranean conduit. The little stream
which served to feed the reservoir at Granite House, and to work the
elevator, had been suffered to flow in its channel, so that water might
never be wanting. The elevator once raised, they might defy attack.
This work had been quickly finished, and Pencroff, Spilett, and Herbert
found time for an expedition to Port Balloon. The sailor was anxious to
know whether the little inlet up which the Good Luck was moored had
been visited by the convicts.
“These gentry got to land on the southern shore,” he observed, “and if
they followed the line of the coast they may have discovered the little
harbor, in which case I wouldn’t give half a dollar for our Good Luck.”
So off the three went in the afternoon of November 10. They were well
armed, and as Pencroff slipped two bullets into each barrel of his gun,
he had a look which presaged no good to whoever came too near, “beast
or man,” as he said. Neb went with them to the elbow of the Mercy, and
lifted the bridge after them. It was agreed that they should give
notice of their return by firing a shot, when Neb would come back to
put down the bridge.
The little band walked straight for the south coast. The distance was
only three miles and a half, but they took two hours to walk it. They
searched on both sides of the way, both the forest and Tadorn’s Fens;
but they found no trace of the fugitives. Arriving at Port Balloon,
they saw with great satisfaction that the Good Luck was quietly moored
in the narrow inlet, which was so well hidden by the rocks that it
could be seen neither from sea nor shore, but only from directly above
or below.
“After all,” said Pencroff, “the rascals haven’t been here. The vipers
like tall grass better, and we shall find them in the Far-West.”
“And it’s a fortunate thing,” added Herbert, “for if they had found the
Good Luck, they would have made use of her in getting away, and we
could never have gone back to Tabor Island.”
“Yes,” replied the reporter, “it will be important to put a paper there
stating the situation of Lincoln Island, Ayrton’s new residence, in
case the Scotch yacht should come after him.”
“Well, here is our Good Luck, Mr. Spilett,” said the sailor, “ready to
start with her crew at the first signal!”
Talking thus, they got on board and walked about the deck. On a sudden
the sailor, after examining the bit around which the cable of the
anchor was wound, cried,
“Hallo! this is a bad business!”
“What’s the matter, Pencroff?” asked the reporter.
“The matter is that that knot was never tied by me——”
And Pencroff pointed to a rope which made the cable fast to the bit, so
as to prevent its tripping.
“How, never tied by you?” asked Spilett.
“No, I can swear to it. I never tie a knot like that.”
“You are mistaken, Pencroff.”
“No, I’m not mistaken,” insisted the sailor. “That knot of mine is
second nature with me.”
“Then have the convicts been on board?” asked Herbert.
“I don’t know,” said Pencroff, “but somebody has certainly raised and
dropped this anchor!”
The sailor was so positive that neither Spilett nor Herbert could
contest his assertion. It was evident that the beat had shifted place
more or less since Pencroff had brought it back to Balloon Harbor. As
for the sailor, he had no doubt that the anchor had been pulled up and
cast again. Now, why had these manœuvres taken place unless the boat
had been used on some expedition?
“Then why did we not see the Good Luck pass the offing?” said the
reporter, who wanted to raise every possible objection.
“But, Mr. Spilett,” answered the sailor, “they could have set out in
the night with a good wind, and in two hours have been out of sight of
the island.”
“Agreed,” said Spilett, but I still ask with what object the convicts
used the Good Luck, and why, after using her, they brought her back to
port?”
“Well, Mr. Spilett,” said the sailor, “we will have to include that
among our mysterious incidents, and think no more of it. One thing is
certain, the Good Luck was there, and is here! If the convicts take it
a second time, it may never find its way back again.”
“Then, Pencroff,” said Herbert, “perhaps we had better take the Good
Luck back and anchor her in front of Granite House.”
“I can hardly say,” answered the sailor, “but I think not. The mouth of
the Mercy is a bad place for a ship; the sea is very heavy there.”
“But by hauling it over the sand to the foot of the Chimneys——”
“Well, perhaps,” answered Pencroff. “In any case, as we have to leave
Granite House for a long expedition, I believe the Good Luck will be
safer here during oar absence, and he will do well to leave her here
until the island is rid of these rascals.”
“That is my opinion, too,” said the reporter. At least in case of bad
weather, she will not be exposed as she would be at the mouth of the
Mercy.”
“But if the convicts should pay her another visit?” said Herbert.
“Well, my boy,” said Pencroff, “if they do not find the boat here they
will search until they do find her; and in our absence there is nothing
to prevent their carrying her off from the front of Granite House. I
agree with Mr. Spilett that we had better leave her at Balloon Harbor;
but if we have not rid the island of these wretches by the time we come
back it will be more prudent to take our ship back to Granite House,
until we have nothing more to fear from our enemies.”
“All right,” said Spilett. “Let us go back now.”
When they returned to Granite House, they told Smith what had happened,
and the latter approved their present and future plans. He even
promised Pencroff he would examine that part of the channel situated
between the island and the coast, so as to see if it would be possible
to make an artificial harbor by means of a dam. In this way the Good
Luck would be always within reach, in sight of the colonists, and
locked up if necessary.
On the same evening they sent a telegram to Ayrton, asking him to bring
back from the corral a couple of goats, which Neb wished to acclimatize
on the plateau. Strange to say, Ayrton did not acknowledge the receipt
of this despatch, as was his custom to do. This surprised the engineer,
but he concluded that Ayrton was not at the corral at the moment, and
perhaps had started on his way back to Granite House. In fact, two days
had elapsed since his departure; and it had been agreed that on the
evening of the 10th or the morning of the 11th, at latest, he would
return.
The colonists were now waiting to see Ayrton on Prospect Plateau. Neb
and Herbert both looked after the approach by way of the bridge, so as
to let it down when their companion should appear, but when 6 o’clock
in the evening came, and there was no sign of Ayrton, they agreed to
send another despatch, asking for an immediate answer.
The wire at Granite House remained silent.
The uneasiness of the colonists was now extreme. What had happened?
“Was Ayrton not at the corral? or, if there, had he not power over his
own movements? Ought they to go in search of him on this dark night?
They discussed the point. Some were for going, and others for waiting.
“But,” said Herbert, “perhaps some accident has happened to the wires
which prevents their working.”
“That may be,” said the reporter.
“Let us wait until to-morrow,” said Smith. “It is just possible that
either Ayrton has not received our despatch, or we have missed his.”
They waited, as may be imagined, with much anxiety. At daylight on the
11th of November, Smith sent a message across the wires, but received
no answer. Again, with the same result.
“Let us set off at once for the corral,” said he.
“Aid will armed,” added Pencroff.
It was agreed that Granite House must not be deserted, so Neb was left
behind to take charge. After accompanying his companions to Glycerine
Creek, he put up the bridge again, and hid behind a tree, to wait
either for their return or for that of Ayrton. In case the pirates
should appear, and should attempt to force the passage, he would try to
defend it with his gun; and in the last resort he would take refuge in
Granite House, where, the elevator once drawn up, he would be in
perfect safety. The others were to go direct to the corral, and failing
to find Ayrton there, were to scour the neighboring woods.
At 6 o’clock in the morning the engineer and his three companions had
crossed Glycerine Creek, and Neb posted himself behind a low cliff,
crowned by some large dragon trees on the left side of the brook. The
colonists, after leaving Prospect Plateau, took the direct route to the
corral. They carried their guns on their shoulders, ready to fire at
the first sign of hostility. The two rifles and the two guns had been
carefully loaded.
On either side of the path was a dense thicket, which might easily hide
enemies, who, as they were armed, would be indeed formidable. The
colonists walked on rapidly without a word. Top preceded them,
sometimes keeping to the path, and sometimes making a detour into the
wood, but not appearing to suspect anything unusual; and they might
depend upon it that the faithful dog would not be taken by surprise,
and would bark at the slightest appearance of danger.
Along this same path Smith and his companions followed the telegraphic
wires which connected the corral with Granite House. For the first two
miles they did not notice any solution of continuity. The posts were in
good condition, the insulators uninjured, and the wire evenly
stretched. From this point the engineer noticed that the tension was
less complete, and at last, arriving at post No. 74, Herbert, who was
ahead of the others, cried, “The wire is broken!”
His companions hastened forward and arrived at the spot where the boy
had stopped. There the overturned post was lying across the path. They
had discovered the break, and it was evident that the dispatches from
Granite House could not have been received at the corral.
“It can’t be the wind that has overturned this post,” said Pencroff.
“No,” answered the reporter, “there are marks of footsteps on the
ground; it has been uprooted by the hand of man.”
“Besides, the wire is broken,” added Herbert, showing the two ends of
the wire which had been violently torn asunder.
“Is the break a fresh one?” asked Smith.
“Yes,” said Herbert, “it was certainly made a very short time ago.”
“To the corral! to the corral!” cried the sailor.
The colonists were then midway between Granite House and the corral,
and had still two miles and a half to go. They started on a run.
In fact, they might well fear that something had happened at the
corral. Ayrton doubtless might have sent a telegram which had not
arrived. It was not this which alarmed his companions, but a
circumstance more remarkable. Ayrton, who had promised to come back the
evening before, had not reappeared! The communication, between Granite
House and the corral had been out with a sinister design.