They hurried on, their hearts beating quick with fear for their

comrade, to whom they were sincerely attached; Were they to find him

struck down by the hand of those he had formerly led?

Soon they reached the place where the road lay along by the little

brook flowing from Red Creek, which watered the meadows of the corral.

They had moderated their pace, so as not to be out of breath at the

moment when a deadly struggle might occur. Their guns were uncocked,

but loaded. Each of them watched one side of the woods. Top kept up an

ill-omened growling.

At last the fenced enclosure appeared behind the trees. They saw no

signs of devastation. The door was closed as usual; a profound silence

reigned at the corral. Neither the accustomed bleatings of the sheep

nor the voice of Ayrton was to be heard.

“Let us go in,” said Smith, and the engineer advanced, while his

companions, keeping guard twenty feet in the rear, stood ready to fire.

Smith raised the inner latch, and began to push back the door, when Top

barked loudly. There was a report from behind the fence, followed by a

cry of pain, and Herbert, pierced by a bullet, fell to the ground!

CHAPTER XLIX

THE REPORTER AND PENCROFF IN THE CORRAL—MOVING HERBERT—DESPAIR OF THE

SAILOR—CONSULTATION OF THE ENGINEER AND THE REPORTER—MODE OF

TREATMENT—A GLIMMER OF HOPE—HOW TO WARN NEB—A FAITHFUL MESSENGER—NEB’S

REPLY.

At Herbert’s cry, Pencroff, dropping his gun, sprang towards him.

“They have killed him!” cried he. “My boy—they have killed him.”

Smith and Spilett rushed forward. The reporter put his ear to the boy’s

heart to see if it were still beating.

“He’s alive,” said he, “but he must be taken—”

“To Granite House? Impossible!” said the engineer.

“To the corral, then,” cried Pencroff.

“One moment,” said Smith, and he rushed to the left around the fence.

There he found himself face to face with a convict, who fired at him

and sent a ball through his cap. An instant later, before he had time

to fire again, he fell, struck to the heart by Smith’s poniard, a surer

weapon even than his gun.

While this was going on, the reporter and Pencroff hoisted themselves

up to the angle of the fence, strode over the top, jumped into the

enclosure, made their way into the empty house, and laid Herbert gently

down on Ayrton’s bed.

A few minutes afterwards Smith was at his side. At the sight of

Herbert, pale and unconscious, the grief of the sailor was intense. He

sobbed and cried bitterly; neither the engineer nor the reporter could

calm him. Themselves over whelmed with emotion, they could hardly

speak.

They did all in their power to save the poor boy’s life. Spilett, in

his life of varied experience, had acquired some knowledge of medicine.

He knew a little of everything; and had had several opportunities of

learning the surgery of gunshot wounds. With Smith’s assistance, he

hastened to apply the remedies which Herbert’s condition demanded.

The boy lay in a complete stupor, caused either by the hemorrhage or by

concussion of the brain. He was very pale, and his pulse beat only at

long intervals, as if every moment about to stop. This, taken in

conjunction with his utter loss of consciousness, was a grave symptom.

They stripped his chest, and, staunching the blood by means of

handkerchiefs, kept bathing the wounds in cold water.

The ball had entered between the third and fourth rib, and there they

found the wound. Smith and Spilett turned the poor boy over. At this he

uttered a moan so faint that they feared it was his last breath. There

was another wound on his back, for the bullet had gone clean through.

“Thank Heaven!” said the reporter, “the ball is not in his body; we

shall not have to extract it.”

“But the heart?” asked Smith.

“The heart has not been touched, or he would be dead.”

“Dead!” cried Pencroff, with a groan. He had only heard the reporter’s

last word.

“No, Pencroff,” answered Smith. “No he is not dead; his pulse still

beats; he has even uttered a groan. For his sake, now, you must be

calm. We have need of all our self-possession; you must not be the

means of our losing it, my friend.”

Pencroff was silent, but large tears rolled down his cheeks.

Meanwhile, Spilett tried to recall to memory the proper treatment of

the case before him. There seemed no doubt that the ball had entered in

front and gone out by the back; but what injuries had it done by the

way? Had it reached any vital spot? This was a question which even a

professional surgeon could not have answered at once.

There was something, however, which Spilett knew must be done, and that

was to keep down the inflammation, and to fight against the fever which

ensues upon a wound. The wound must be dressed without delay. It was

not necessary to bring on a fresh flow of blood by the use of tepid

water and compresses, for Herbert was already too weak. The wounds,

therefore, were bathed with cold water.

Herbert was placed upon his left side and held in that position.

“He must not be moved,” said Spilett; “he is in the position most

favorable to an easy suppuration, and absolute repose is necessary.”

“Cannot we take him to Granite House?” asked Pencroff.

“No, Pencroff,” said the reporter.

Spilett was examining the boy’s wounds again with close attention.

Herbert was so frightfully pale that he became alarmed.

“Cyrus,” said he, “I am no doctor. I am in a terrible strait; you must

help me with your advice and assistance.”

“Calm yourself, my friend,” answered the engineer, pressing his hand.

“Try to judge coolly. Think only of saving Herbert.”

Spilett’s self-possession, which in a moment of discouragement his keen

sense of responsibility had caused him to lose, returned again at these

words. He seated himself upon the bed; Smith remained standing,

Pencroff had torn up his shirt and began mechanically to make lint.

Spilett explained that the first thing to do was to check the

hemorrhage, but not to close the wounds or bring on immediate

cicatrization—for there had been internal perforation, and they must

not let the suppurated matter collect within. It was decided therefore

to dress the two wounds, but not to press them together. The colonists

possessed a most powerful agent for quelling inflamation, and one which

nature supplies in the greatest abundance; to-wit, cold water, which is

now used by all doctors. It has, moreover, the advantage of allowing

the wound perfect rest, and dispensing with the frequent dressing,

which by exposing the wound to the air in the early stages, is so often

attended with lamentable results.

Thus did Smith and Spilett reason, with clear, native good sense, and

acted as the best surgeon would have done. The wounds were bandaged

with linen and constantly soaked with fresh water. The sailor had

lighted a fire in the chimney, and the house fortunately contained all

the necessaries of life. They had maple-sugar and the medicinal plants

which the boy had gathered on the shores of Lake Grant. From these they

made a refreshing drink for the sick boy. His fever was very high, and

he lay all that day and night without a sign of consciousness. His life

was hanging on a thread.

On the next day, November 12, they began to have some hopes of his

recovery. His consciousness returned, he opened his eyes and recognized

them all. He even said two or three words, and wanted to know what had

happened. Spilett told him, and begged him to keep perfectly quiet;

that his life was not in danger, and his wounds would heal in a few

days. Herbert suffered very little, for the inflammation was

successfully kept down by the plentiful use of cold water. A regular

suppuration had set in, the fever did not increase, and they began to

hope that this terrible accident would not end in a worse catastrophe.

Pencroff took heart again; he was the best of nurses, like a Sister of

Charity, or a tender mother watching over her child. Herbert had fallen

into another stupor, but this time the sleep appeared more natural.

“Tell me again that you have hope, Mr. Spilett,” said Pencroff; “tell

me again that you will save my boy!”

“We shall save him,” said the reporter. “The wound is a serious one,

and perhaps the ball has touched the lung; but a wound in that organ is

not mortal.”

“May God grant it!” answered the sailor.

As may be imagined, the care of Herbert had occupied all their time and

thoughts for the first twenty-four hours at the corral. They had not

considered the urgent danger of a return of the convicts, nor taken any

precautions for the future. But on this day while Pencroff was watching

over the invalid, Smith and the reporter took counsel together as to

their plans.

They first searched the corral. There was no trace of Ayrton, and it

seemed probable that he had resisted his former companions, and fallen

by their hands. The corral had not been pillaged, and as its gates had

remained shut, the domestic animals had not been able to wander away

into the woods. They could see no traces of the pirates either in the

dwelling or the palisade. The only thing gone was the stock of

ammunition.

“The poor fellow was taken by surprise,” said Smith, “and as he was a

man to show fight, no doubt they made an end of him.”

“Yes,” replied the reporter, “and then, no doubt, they took possession

here, where they found everything in great plenty, and took to flight

only when they saw us coming.”

“We must beat the woods,” said the engineer, and rid the island of

these wretches. But we will have to wait some time in the corral, till

the day comes when we can safely carry Herbert to Granite House.”

“But Neb?” asked the reporter.

“Neb’s safe enough.”

“Suppose he becomes anxious and risks coming here?”

“He must not come,” said Smith sharply. “He would be murdered on the

way!”

“It’s very likely he will try.”

“Ah! if the telegraph was only in working order, we could warn him! But

now it’s impossible. We can’t leave Pencroff and Herbert here alone.

Well, I’ll go by myself to Granite House!”

“No, no, Cyrus,” said the reporter, “you must not expose yourself.

These wretches are watching the corral from their ambush, and there

would be two mishaps instead of one!”

“But Neb has been without news of us for twenty-four hours,” repeated

the engineer. “He will want to come.”

While he reflected, his gaze fell upon Top, who, by running to and fro,

seemed to say, “Have you forgotten me?”

“Top!” cried Smith.

The dog sprang up at this master’s call.

“Yes, Top shall go!” cried the reporter, who understood in a flash. Top

will make his way where we could not pass, will take our message and

bring us back an answer.”

“Quick!” said Smith, “quick!”

Spilett tore out a page of his note-book and wrote these lines:—

“Herbert wounded. We are at the corral. Be on your guard. Do not leave

Granite House. Have the convicts shown themselves near you? Answer by

Top!”

This laconic note was folded and tied in a conspicuous way to Top’s

collar.

“Top, my dog,” said the engineer, caressing the animal, “Neb, Top, Neb!

Away! away!”

Top sprang high at the words. He understood what was wanted, and the

road was familiar to him. The engineer went to the door of the corral

and opened one of the leaves.

“Neb, Top, Neb!” he cried again, pointing towards Granite House.

Top rushed out and disappeared almost instantly.

“He’ll get there!” said the reporter.

“Yes, and come back, the faithful brute!”

“What time is it?” asked Spilett.

“Ten o’clock.”

“In an hour he may be here. We will watch for him.

The door of the corral was closed again. The engineer and the reporter

re-entered the house. Herbert lay in a profound sleep. Pencroff kept

his compresses constantly wet with cold water. Spilett, seeing that

just then there was nothing else to do, set to work to prepare some

food, all the time keeping his eye on that part of the inclosure which

backed up against the spur, from which an attack might be made.

The colonists awaited Top’s return with much anxiety. A little before

11 o’clock Smith andSpilett stood with their carbines behind the door,

ready to open it at the dog’s first bark. They knew that if Top got

safely to Granite House, Neb would send him back at once.

They had waited about ten minutes, when they heard a loud report,

followed instantly by continuous barking. The engineer opened the door,

and, seeing smoke still curling up among the trees a hundred paces off,

he fired in that direction. Just then Top bounded into the corral,

whose door was quickly shut.

“Top, Top!” cried the engineer, caressing the dog’s large, noble head.

A note was fastened to his collar, containing these words in Neb’s

sprawling handwriting:——

“No pirates near Granite House. I will not stir. Poor Mr. Herbert!”

CHAPTER L.

THE CONVICTS IN THE NEIGHBORHOOD OF THE CORRAL—PROVISIONAL

OCCUPATION—CONTINUATION OF HERBERT’S TREATMENT—PENCROFF’S

JUBILATION—REVIEW OF THE PAST—FUTURE PROSPECTS—SMITH’S IDEAS.

So, then, the convicts were close by, watching the corral, and waiting

to kill the colonists one after another. They must be attacked like

wild beasts, but with the greatest precaution, for the wretches had the

advantage of position, seeing and not being seen, able to make a sudden

attack, yet not themselves to be surprised.

So Smith made his arrangements to live at the corral, which was fully

provisioned. Ayrton’s house was furnished with all the necessaries of

life, and the convicts, frightened away by the colonists’ arrival, had

not had time to pillage. It was most likely, as Spilett suggested, that

the course of events had been this:—The convicts had followed the

southern coast, and after getting over into Serpentine Peninsula, and

being in no humor to risk themselves in the woods of the Far West, they

had reached the month of Fall River. Then, walking up the right bank of

the stream, they had come to the spur of Mount Franklin; here was their

most natural place of refuge. And they had soon discovered the corral.

They had probably installed themselves there, had been surprised by

Ayrton, had overcome the unfortunate man, and—the rest was easily

divined!

Meanwhile the convicts, reduced to five, but well armed, were prowling

in the woods, and to pursue them was to be exposed to their fire

without the power either of avoiding or of anticipating them.

“There is nothing else to do but wait,” repeated Smith. “When Herbert

is well again, we will beat the island, and have a shot at these

rascals; while at the same time——”

“We search for our mysterious protector,” added Spilett, finishing the

sentence. “Ah! we must confess, dear Cyrus, that, for once, his

protection has failed us.”

“We don’t know about that,” answered the engineer.

“What do you mean?” asked the reporter.

“We are not at the end of our troubles, my dear Spilett, and his

powerful interference may still be exercised. But now we must think of

Herbert.”

Several days passed, and the poor boy’s condition was happily no worse;

and to gain time was a great thing. The cold water, always kept at the

proper temperature, had absolutely prevented the inflammation of the

wounds. Nay, it seemed to the reporter that this water, which contained

a little sulphur, due to the neighborhood of the volcano, had a direct

tendency towards cicatrization. The suppuration was much less copious,

and, thanks to excellent nursing, Herbert had returned to

consciousness, and his fever had abated. He was, moreover, strictly

dieted, and, of course, was very weak; but he had plenty of broths and

gruels, and absolute rest was doing him great good.

Smith, Spilett, and Pencroff had become very skilful in tending him.

All the linen in the house had been sacrificed. The wounded parts,

covered with lint and compresses, were subjected to just enough

pressure to cicatrize them without bringing on a reaction of

inflammation. The reporter dressed the wounds with the greatest care,

repeating to his companions the medical axiom that good dressing is as

rare as a good operation.

At the end of ten days, by the 22d of November, Herbert was decidedly

better. He had begun to take some nourishment. The color came back to

his cheeks, and he smiled at his nurse. He talked a little, in spite of

Pencroff, who chattered away all the time to keep the boy from saying a

word, and told the most remarkable stories. Herbert inquired about

Ayrton, and was surprised not to see him at the bedside; but the

sailor, who would not distress his patient, answered merely that Ayrton

had gone to be with Neb at Granite House in case the convicts attacked

it. “Nice fellows they are,” said he. “To think that Mr. Smith wanted

to appeal to their feelings! I’ll send them my compliments in a good

heavy bullet!”

“And nobody has seen them?” asked Herbert.

“No, my boy,” answered the sailor, “but we will find them, and when you

are well we shall see whether these cowards, who strike from behind,

will dare to meet us face to face.”

“I am still very weak, dear Pencroff.”

“Oh! your strength will come back little by little. What’s a ball

through the chest? Nothing to speak of. I have seen several of them,

and feel no worse for it.”

In fine, things were growing better, and it no unlucky complication

occurred, Herbert’s cure might be regarded as certain. But what would

have been the colonists’ situation if the ball had remained in his

body, if his arm or leg had had to be amputated? They could not think

of it without a shudder.

It seemed to Smith that he and his companions, until now so fortunate,

had entered upon an ill-omened time. For the two and a half years which

had elapsed since their escape from Richmond they had succeeded in

everything. But now luck seemed to be turning against them. Ayrton,

doubtless, was dead, and Herbert severely wounded; and that strange but

powerful intervention, which had done them such mighty services, seemed

now to be withdrawn. Had the mysterious being abandoned the island, or

himself been overcome?

They could give no answer to these questions; but though they talked

together about them, they were not men to despair. They looked the

situation in the face; they analyzed the chances; they prepared

themselves for every contingency; they stood firm and undaunted before

the future; and if adversity should continue to oppress them, she would

find them men prepared to do their utmost.

CHAPTER LI.

NO NEWS OF NEB—A PROPOSAL FROM PENCROFF AND SPILETT—THE REPORTER’S

SORTIES—A FRAGMENT OF CLOTH—A MESSAGE—HURRIED DEPARTURE—ARRIVAL AT

PROSPECT PLATEAU.

Herbert’s convalescence progressed steadily. Only one thing was left to

wish for, to wit, that he would get well enough to be taken to Granite

House. However well arranged and provisioned might be the dwelling in

the corral, there was nothing like the solid comfort of their abode in

the rock. Besides, they were not safe here, and, in spite of their

watchfulness, they were always in dread of a shot from the woods.

Whereas there in the midst of that unassailable and inaccessible mass

of rock there would be nothing to fear. They waited, therefore, with

impatience for the moment when Herbert could be carried, without danger

to his wound, across the difficult route through Jacamar Woods.

Though without news of Neb, they had no fear for him. The brave negro,

occupying a position of such strength, would not let himself be

surprised. Top had not been sent back to him, for it seemed useless to

expose the faithful dog to some shot which might deprive the colonists

of their most useful helper. The engineer regretted to see his forces

divided, and thus to play into the hands of the pirates. Since Ayrton’s

disappearance, they were only four against five, for Herbert could not

be counted. The poor boy knew and lamented the danger of which he was

the cause.

One day, November 29, when he was asleep, they discussed their plans of

action against the convicts.

“My friends,” said the reporter, after they had talked over the

impossibility of communicating with Neb, “I agree with you that to risk

ourselves on the path leading from the corral would be a useless

exposure. But why should we not beat the woods for these wretches?”

“That’s what I was thinking,” replied Pencroff. “We’re not afraid of a

bullet, and for my part, if Mr. Smith approves, I am ready to take to

the woods. Surely one man is as good as another!”

“But is he as good as five?” asked the engineer.

“I will go with Pencroff,’ answered the reporter, “and the two of us,

well armed, and Top with us—”

“My dear Spilett, and you, Pencroff, let us discuss the matter coolly.

If the convicts were in hiding in some place known to us, from which we

could drive them by an attack, it would be a different affair. But have

we not every reason to fear that they will get the first shot?”

“Well, sir,” cried Pencroff, “a bullet doesn’t always hit its mark!”

“That which pierced Herbert did not go astray,” answered the engineer.

“Besides, remember that if you both leave the corral, I shall be left

alone to defend it. Can you answer that the convicts will not see you

go off, that they will not wait till you are deep in the woods, and

then make their attack in your absence upon a man and a sick boy?”

There was nothing to say in answer to this reasoning, which went home

to the minds of all.

“If only Ayrton was yet one of the party!” said Spilett. “Poor fellow!

his return to a life with his kind was not for long!”

“If he is dead!” added Pencroff, in a peculiar tone.

“Have you any hope that those rascals have spared him, Pencroff?” asked

Spilett.

“Yes, if their interest led them to do so.”

“What! do you suppose that Ayrton, among his former companions in

guilt, would forget all he owed to us—”

“Nobody can tell,” answered the sailor, with some hesitation.

“Pencroff,” said Smith, laying his hand on the sailor’s arm, “that was

an unworthy thought. I will guarantee Ayrton’s fidelity!”

“And I too,” added the reporter, decidedly.

“Yes, yes, Mr. Smith, I am wrong,” answered Pencroff. “But really I am

a little out of my mind. This imprisonment in the corral is driving me

to distraction.”

“Be patient, Pencroff,” answered the engineer. “How soon, my dear

Spilett, do you suppose Herbert can be carried to Granite House?”

“That is hard to say, Cyrus,” answered the reporter, “for a little

imprudence might be fatal. But if he goes on as well as he is doing now

for another week, why then we will see.”

At that season the spring was two months advanced. The weather was

good, and the heat began to be oppressive. The woods were in fall leaf,

and it was almost time to reap the accustomed harvest. It can easily be

understood how this siege in the corral upset the plans of the

colonists.

Once or twice the reporter risked himself outside, and walked around

the palisade. Top was with him, and his carbine was loaded.

He met no one and saw nothing suspicious. Top would have warned him of

any danger, and so long as the dog did not bark, there was nothing to

fear.

But on his second sortie, on the 27th of November, Spilett, who had

ventured into the woods for a quarter of a mile to the south of the

mountain, noticed that Top smelt something. The dog’s motions were no

longer careless; he ran to and fro, ferreting about in the grass and

thistles, as if his keen nose had put him on the track of an enemy.

Spilett followed the dog, encouraging and exciting him by his voice;

his eye on the alert, his carbine on his shoulder, and availing himself

of the shelter of the trees. It was not likely that Top had recognized

the presence of a man, for in that case he would have announced it by a

half-stifled but angry bark. Since not even a growl was to be heard,

the danger was evidently neither near nor approaching.

About five minutes had passed in this way, Top ferreting about and the

reporter cautiously following him, when the dog suddenly rushed towards

a thicket and tore from it a strip of cloth. It was a piece from a

garment, dirty and torn. Spilett went back with it to the corral. There

the colonists examined it and recognized it as a piece of Ayrton’s

waistcoat, which was made of the felt prepared only in the workshop at

Granite House.

“You see, Pencroff,” observed Smith, “Ayrton resisted manfully, and the

convicts dragged him off in spite of his efforts. Do you still doubt

his good faith?”

“No, Mr. Smith,” replied the sailor; “I have long ago given up that

momentary suspicion. But I think we may draw one conclusion from this

fact.”

“What is that?”

“That Ayrton was not killed at the corral. They must have dragged him

out alive, and perhaps he is still alive.”

“It may be so,” said the engineer, thoughtfully.

The most impatient of them all to get back to Granite House was

Herbert. He knew how necessary it was for them all to be there, and

felt that it was he who was keeping them at the corral. The one thought

which had taken possession of his mind was to leave the corral, and to

leave it as soon as possible. He believed that he could bear the

journey to Granite House. He was sure that his strength would come back

to him sooner in his own room, with the sight and the smell of the sea.

It was now November 29. The colonists were talking together in

Herbert’s room, about 7 o’clock in the morning, when they heard Top

barking loudly. They seized their guns, always loaded and cocked, and

went out of the house.

Top ran to the bottom of the palisade, jumping and barking with joy.

“Some one is coming!”

“Yes.”

“And not an enemy.”

“Neb, perhaps?”

“Or Ayrton?”

These words had scarcely been exchanged between the engineer and his

comrade, when something leaped the palisade and fell on the ground

inside. It was Jup. Master Jup himself, who was frantically welcomed by

Top.

“Neb has sent him!” said the reporter.

“Then he must have some note on him,” said the engineer.

Pencroff rushed to the orang. Neb could not have chosen a better

messenger, who could get through obstacles which none of the others

could have surmounted. Smith was right. Around Jup’s neck was hung a

little bag, and in it was a note in Neb’s handwriting. The dismay of

the colonists may be imagined when they read these words:—

“FRIDAY, 6 A. M.”—The convicts are on the plateau. NEB.”

They looked at each other without saying a word, then walked back to

the house. What was there to do? The convicts on Prospect Plateau meant

disaster, devastation and ruin! Herbert knew at once from their faces

that the situation had become grave, and when he saw Jup, he had no

more doubt that misfortune was threatening Granite House.

“Mr. Smith,” said he, “I want to go. I can bear the journey. I want to

start.”

Spilett came up to Herbert and looked at him intently.

“Let us start then,” said he.

The question of Herbert’s transportation was quickly decided. A litter

would be the most comfortable way of travelling, but it would

necessitate two porters; that is, two guns would be subtracted from

their means of defense. On the other hand, by placing the mattresses on

which Herbert lay in the wagon, so as to deaden the motion, and by

walking carefully they could escape jolting him, and would leave their

arms free.

The wagon was brought out and the onagga harnessed to it; Smith and the

reporter lifted the mattresses with Herbert on them, and laid them in

the bottom of the wagon between the rails. The weather was fine, and

the sun shone brightly between the trees.

“Are the arms ready?” asked Smith.

They were. The engineer and Pencroff, each armed with a

double-barrelled gun, and Spilett with his carbine, stood ready to set

out.

“How do you feel, Herbert?” asked the engineer.

“Don’t be troubled, Mr. Smith,” answered the boy, “I shall not die on

the way.”

They could see that the poor fellow was making a tremendous effort. The

engineer felt a grievous pang. He hesitated to give the signal for

departure. But to stay would have thrown Herbert into despair.

“Let us start,” said Smith.

The corral door was opened. Jup and Top, who knew how to be quiet on

emergency, rushed on ahead. The wagon went out, the gate was shut, and

the onagga, under Pencroff’s guidance, walked on with a slow pace.

It was necessary, on account of the wagon, to keep to the direct road

from the corral to Granite House, although it was known to the

convicts. Smith and Spilett walked on either side of the chariot, ready

to meet any attack. Still it was not likely that the convicts had yet

abandoned Prospect Plateau. Neb’s note had evidently been sent as soon

as they made their appearance. Now this note was dated at 6 o’clock in

the morning, and the active orang, who was accustomed to the way, would

have got over the five miles from Granite House in three-quarters of an

hour. Probably they would have no danger to fear till they approached

Granite House.

But they kept on the alert. Top and Jup, the latter armed with his

stick, sometimes in front, and sometimes beating the woods on either

side, gave no signal of approaching danger. The wagon moved on slowly,

and an hour after leaving the corral, they had passed over four of the

five miles without any incident.

They drew near the plateau another mile, and they saw the causeway over

Glycerine Creek. At last, through an opening in the wood, they saw the

horizon of the sea. But the wagon went on slowly, and none of its

defenders could leave it for a moment. Just then Pencroff stopped the

wagon and cried, fiercely,

“Ah, the wretches!”

And he pointed to a thick smoke which curled up from the mill, the

stables, and the buildings of the poultry-yard. In the midst of this

smoke a man was running about. It was Neb.

His companions uttered a cry. He heard them and rushed to meet them.

The convicts had abandoned the plateau half an hour before, after

having done all the mischief they could.

“And Mr. Herbert?” cried Neb.

Spilett went back to the wagon. Herbert had fainted.

CHAPTER LII.

HERBERT CARRIED TO GRANITE HOUSE—NEB RELATES WHAT HAD HAPPENED—VISIT OF

SMITH TO THE PLATEAU—RUIN AND DEVASTATION—THE COLONISTS HELPLESS—WILLOW

BARK—A MORTAL FEVER—TOP BARKS AGAIN.

The convicts, the dangers threatening Granite House, the ruin on the

plateau, none of these were thought of, in the present condition of

Herbert. It was impossible to say whether the transportation had

occasioned some internal rupture, but his companions were almost

hopeless.

The wagon had been taken to the bend of the river, and there the

mattress, on which lay the unconscious lad, was placed on a litter of

branches, and within a few minutes Herbert was lying on his bed in

Granite House. He smiled for a moment on finding himself again in his

chamber, and a few words escaped feebly from his lips. Spilett looked

at his wounds, fearing that they might have opened, but the cicatrices

were unbroken. What, then, was the cause of this prostration, or why

had his condition grown worse?

Soon the lad fell into a feverish sleep, and the reporter and Pencroff

watched beside him.

Meantime, Smith told Neb of all that had happened at the corral, and

Neb told his master of what had passed at the plateau.

It was not until the previous night that the convicts had shown

themselves beyond the edge of the forest, near Glycerine Creek. Neb,

keeping watch near the poultry-yard, had not hesitated to fire at one

of them who was crossing the bridge; but he could not say with what

result. At least, it did not disperse the band, and Neb had but just

time to climb up into Granite House, where he, at least, would be safe.

But what was the next thing to do? How prevent the threatened

devastation to the plateau? How could he inform his master? And,

moreover, in what situation were the occupants of the corral?

Smith and his companions had gone away on the 11th inst., and here it

was the 29th. In that time all the information that Neb had received

was the disastrous news brought by Top. Ayrton gone, Herbert badly

wounded, the engineer, the reporter, and the sailor imprisoned in the

corral.

The poor negro asked himself what was to be done. Personally, he had

nothing to fear, as the convicts could not get into Granite House. But

the works, the fields, all the improvements, were at the mercy of the

pirates. Was it not best to let Smith know of the threatened danger?

Then Neb thought of employing Jup on this errand. He knew the

intelligence of the orang. Jup knew the word “corral.” It was not yet

daylight. The agile brute could slip through the woods unperceived. So

the negro wrote a note, which he fastened round Jup’s neck, and taking

the monkey to the door and unrolling a long cord, he repeated the

words:—

“Jup! Jup! To the corral! the corral!”

The animal understood him, and, seizing the cord, slid down to the

ground, and disappeared in the darkness.

“You did well, Neb, although In not forewarning us perhaps you would

have done better!” said Smith, thinking of Herbert, and how the

carrying him back had been attended with such serious results.

Neb finished his recital. The convicts had not shown themselves upon

the beach, doubtless fearing the inhabitants of Granite House, whose

number they did not know. But the plateau was open and unprotected by

Granite House. Here, therefore, they gave loose reins to their instinct

of depredation and destruction, and they had left but half-an-hour

before the colonists returned.

Neb had rushed from his retreat, and at the risk of being shot, he had

climbed to the plateau and had tried to put out the fire which was

destroying the inclosure to the poultry-yard. Ho was engaged in this

work when the others returned.

Thus the presence of the convicts was a constant menace to the

colonists, heretofore so happy, and they might expect the most

disastrous results from them.

Smith, accompanied by Neb, went to see for himself, the extent of the

injury done. He walked along by the Mercy and up the left bank without

seeing any trace of the convicts. It was likely that the latter had

either witnessed the return of the colonists, and had gone back to the

corral, now undefended, or that they had gone back to their camp to

await an occasion to renew the attack.

At present, however, all attempts to rid the island of these pests were

subject to the condition of Herbert.

The engineer and Neb reached the place. It was a scene of desolation.

Fields trampled; the harvest scattered; the stables and other buildings

burned; the frightened animals roaming at large over the plateau. The

fowls, which had sought refuge on the lake, were returning to their

accustomed place on its banks. Everything here would have to be done

over again.

The succeeding days were the saddest which the colonists had passed on

the island. Herbert became more and more feeble. He was in a sort of

stupor, and symptoms of delirium began to manifest themselves. Cooling

draughts were all the remedies at the disposition of the colonists.

Meantime, the fever became intermittent, and it was necessary to check,

it before it developed greater strength.

“To do this,” said Spilett, “we must have a febrifuge.”

“And we have neither cinchonia nor quinine,” answered the engineer.

“No, but we can make a substitute from the bark of the willow trees at

the lake.”

“Let us try it immediately,” replied Smith.

Indeed, willow bark has been partly considered succedaneous to

cinchonia, but since they had no means of extracting the salicin, the

bark must be used in its natural state.

Smith, therefore, cut some pieces of bark from a species of black

willow, and, reducing them to powder, this powder was given to Herbert

the same evening.

The night passed without incident. Herbert was somewhat delirious, but

the fever did not manifest itself. Pencroff became more hopeful, but

Spilett, who knew that the fever was intermittent, looked forward to

the next day with anxiety.

They noticed that during the apyrexy, Herbert seemed completely

prostrated, his head heavy, and subject to dizziness. Another alarming

symptom was a congestion of the liver, and soon a more marked delirium

manifested itself.

Spilett was overwhelmed by this new complication. He drew the engineer

aside and said to him:——

“It is a pernicious fever!”

“A pernicious fever!” cried Smith. “You must be mistaken, Spilett. A

pernicious fever never declares itself spontaneously; it must have a

germ.”

“I am not mistaken,” replied the reporter. “Herbert may have caught the

germ in the marshes. He has already had one attack; if another follows,

and we cannot prevent a third—he is lost!”

“But the willow bark?——”

“Is insufficient. And a third attack of pernicious fever, when one

cannot break it by means of quinine, is always mortal!”

Happily Pencroff had not heard this conversation. It would have driven

him wild.

Towards noon of the 7th, the second attack manifested itself. The

crisis was terrible. Herbert felt that he was lost! He stretched out

his arms towards Smith, towards Spilett, towards Pencroff! He did not

want to die! The scene was heartrending, and it became necessary to

take Pencroff away.

The attack lasted five hours. It was plain that the lad could not

support a third. The night was full of torture. In his delirium,

Herbert wrestled with the convicts; he called Ayrton; he supplicated

that mysterious being, that protector, who had disappeared but whose

image haunted him—then he fell into a profound prostration, and

Spilett, more than once, thought the poor boy was dead!

The next day passed with only a continuation of the lad’s feebleness.

His emaciated hands clutched the bed clothing. They continued giving

him doses of the willow powder, but the reporter anticipated no result

from it.

“If,” said he, “before to-morrow morning we cannot give him a more

powerful febrifuge than this, Herbert will die!”

The night came—doubtless the last night for this brave lad, so good, so

clever, whom all loved as their own child! The sole remedy against this

pernicious fever, the sole specific which could vanquish it, was not to

be found on Lincoln Island!

During the night Herbert became frightfully delirious. He recognized no

one. It was not even probable that he would live till morning. His

strength was exhausted. Towards 3 o’clock he uttered a frightful cry.

He was seized by a terrible convulsion. Neb, who was beside him,

rushed, frightened, into the adjoining chamber, where his companions

were watching.

At the same moment Top gave one of his strange barks.

All returned to the chamber and gathered round the dying lad, who

struggled to throw himself from the bed. Spilett, who held his arms,

felt his pulse slowly rising.

Five o’clock came. The sun’s rays shone into the chambers of Granite

House. A beautiful day, the last on earth for poor Herbert, dawned over

Lincoln Island.

A sunbeam crept on to the table beside the bed.

Suddenly Pencroff, uttering an exclamation, pointed to something on

that table.

It was a small oblong box, bearing these words:——

_Sulphate of quinine._

CHAPTER LIII.

AN INEXPLICABLE MYSTERY—HERBERT’S CONVALESCENCE—THE UNEXPLORED PARTS OF

THE ISLAND—PREPARATIONS FOR DEPARTURE—THE FIRST DAY—NIGHT—SECOND

DAY—THE KAURIS—CASSOWARIES—FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND—ARRIVAL AT REPTILE

END.

Spilett took the box and opened it. It contained a white powder, which

he tasted. Its extreme bitterness was unmistakable. It was indeed that

precious alkaloid, the true anti-periodic.

It was necessary to administer it to Herbert without delay. How it came

there could be discussed later.

Spilett called for some coffee, and Neb brought a lukewarm infusion, in

which the reporter placed eighteen grains of quinine and gave the

mixture to Herbert to drink.

There was still time, as the third attack of the fever had not yet

manifested itself. And, indeed, it did not return. Moreover, every one

became hopeful. The mysterious influence was again about them, and that

too in a moment when they had despaired of its aid.

After a few hours, Herbert rested more quietly, and the colonists could

talk of the incident. The intervention of this unknown being was more

evident than ever, but how had he succeeded in getting in to Granite

House during the night? It was perfectly inexplicable, and, indeed, the

movements of this “genius of the island” were as mysterious as the

genius himself.

The quinine was administered to Herbert every three hours, and the next

day the lad was certainly better. It is true he was not out of danger,

since these fevers are often followed by dangerous relapses; but, then,

here was the specific, and, doubtless, not far off, the one who had

brought it. In two days more Herbert became convalescent. He was still

feeble, but there had been no relapse, and he cheerfully submitted to

the rigorous diet imposed upon, him. He was so anxious to get well.

Pencroff was beside himself with joy. After the critical period had

been safely passed he seized the reporter in his arms, and called him

nothing but Doctor Spilett.

But the true physician was still to be found.

““We will find him!” said the sailor.

The year 1867, during which the colonists had been so hardly beset,

came to an end, and the new year began with superb weather. A fine

warmth, a tropical temperature, moderated by the sea breeze. Herbert’s

bed was drawn close to the window, where he could inhale long draughts

of the salt, salubrious air. His appetite began to return, and what

tempting savory morsels Neb prepared for him!

“It made one wish to be ill,” said Pencroff.

During this time the convicts had not shown themselves, neither was

there any news of Ayrton. The engineer and Herbert still hoped to get

him back, but the others thought that the unhappy man had succumbed. In

a month’s time, when the lad should have regained his strength, the

important search would be undertaken, and all these questions set at

rest.

During January the work on the plateau consisted simply in collecting

the grain and vegetables undestroyed in the work of devastation, and

planting some for a late crop during the next season. Smith preferred

to wait till the island was rid of the convicts before he repaired the

damage to the mill, poultry-yard, and stable.

In the latter part of the month Herbert began to take some exercise. He

was eighteen years old, his constitution was splendid, and from this

moment the improvement in his condition was visible daily.

By the end of the month he walked on the shore and over the plateau,

and strengthened himself with sea-baths. Smith felt that the day for

the exploration could be set, and the 15th of February was chosen. The

nights at this season were very clear, and would, therefore, be

advantageous to the search.

The necessary preparations were begun. These were important, as the

colonists had determined not to return to Granite House until their

double end had been obtained—to destroy the convicts and find Ayrton,

if he was still alive; and to discover the being who presided so

efficiently over the destinies of the colony.

The colonists were familiar with all the eastern coast of the island

between Claw Cape and the Mandibles; with Tadorn’s Fens; the

neighborhood of Lake Grant; the portion of Jacamar Wood lying between

the road to the corral and the Mercy; the courses of the Mercy and Red

Creek, and those spurs of Mount Franklin where the corral was located.

They had partially explored the long sweep of Washington Bay from Claw

Cape to Reptile End; the wooded and marshy shore of the west coast, and

the interminable downs which extended to the half-open mouth of Shark

Gulf.

But they were unacquainted with the vast woods of Serpentine Peninsula;

all the right bank of the Mercy; the left bank of Fall River, and the

confused mass of ravines and ridges which covered three-fourths of the

base of Mount Franklin on the west, north, and east, and where,

doubtless, there existed deep recesses. Therefore, many thousands of

acres had not yet been explored.

It was decided that the expedition should cross the Forest of the Far

West, in such a manner as to go over all that part situated on the

right of the Mercy. Perhaps it would have been better to have gone at

once to the corral, where it was probable the convicts had either

pillaged the place or installed themselves there. But either the

pillage was a work accomplished or the convicts had purposed to

entrench themselves there, and it would always be time to dislodge

them.

So the first plan was decided upon, and it was resolved to cut a road

through these woods, placing Granite House in communication with the

end of the peninsula, a distance of sixteen or seventeen miles.

The wagon was in perfect order. The onagers, well rested, were in

excellent condition for a long pull. Victuals, camp utensils, and the

portable stove, were loaded into the wagon, together with a careful

selection of arms and ammunition.

No one was left in Granite House; even Top and Jup took part in the

expedition. The inaccessible dwelling could take care of itself.

Sunday, the day before the departure, was observed as a day of rest and

prayer, and on the morning of the 15th Smith took the measures

necessary to defend Granite House from invasion. The ladders were

carried to the Chimneys and buried there, the basket of the elevator

was removed, and nothing left of the apparatus. Pencroff, who remained

behind in Granite House, saw to this latter, and then slid down to the

ground by means of a double cord which, dropped to the ground, severed

the last connection between the entrance and the shore.

The weather was superb.

“It is going to be a warm day,” said the reporter, joyfully.

“But, Doctor Spilett,” said Pencroff, “our road is under the trees, and

we will never see the sun!”

“Forward!” said the engineer.

The wagon was ready on the bank. The reporter insisted on Herbert

taking a seat in it, at least for the first few hours. Neb walked by

the onagers. Smith, the reporter, and the sailor went on ahead. Top

bounded off into the grass; Jup took a seat beside Herbert, and the

little party started.

The wagon went up the left bank of the Mercy, across the bridge, and

there, leaving the route to Balloon Harbor to the left, the explorers

began to make a way through the forest.

For the first two miles, the trees grew sufficiently apart to permit

the wagon to proceed easily, without any other obstacle than here and

there a stump or some bushes to arrest their progress. The thick

foliage made a cool shadow over the ground. Birds and beasts were

plenty, and reminded the colonists of their early excursions on the

island.

“Nevertheless,” remarked Smith, “I notice that the animals are more

timid than formerly. These woods have been recently traversed by the

convicts, and we shall certainly find their traces.”

And, indeed, in many places, they saw where a party of men had passed,

or built a fire, but in no one place was there a definite camp.

The engineer had charged his companions to abstain from hunting, so as

not to make the convicts aware of their presence by the sound of

firearms.

In the afternoon, some six miles from Granite House, the advance became

very difficult, and they had to pass certain thickets, into which Top

and Jup were sent as skirmishers.

The halt for the night was made, nine miles from Granite House, on the

bank of a small affluent to the Mercy, of whose existence they had been

unaware. They had good appetites, and all made a hearty supper, after

which the camp was carefully organized, in order to guard against a

surprise from the convicts. Two of the colonists kept guard together in

watches of two hours, but Herbert, in spite of his wishes, was not

allowed to do duty.

The night passed without incident. The silence was unbroken save by the

growling of jaguars and the chattering of monkeys, which seemed

particularly to annoy Jup.

The next day, they were unable to accomplish more than six miles. Like

true “frontiersmen,” the colonists avoided the large trees and cut down

only the smaller ones, so that their road was a winding one.

During the day Herbert discovered some specimens of the tree ferns,

with vase-shaped leaves, and the algarobabeau (St. John’s bread), which

the onagers eat greedily. Splendid kauris, disposed in groups, rose to

a height of two hundred feet, their cylindrical trunks surmounted by a

crown of verdure.

As to fauna, they discovered no new specimens, but they saw, without

being able to approach them, a couple of large birds, such as are

common in Australia, a sort of cassowary, called emus, which were five

feet high, of brown plumage, and belonged to the order of runners. Top

tried his best to catch them, but they outran him easily, so great was

their speed.

The colonists again found traces of the convicts. Near a

recently-extinguished fire they found footprints, which they examined

with great attention. By measuring these tracks they were able to

determine the presence of five men. The five convicts had evidently

camped here; but—and they made minute search—they could not discover a

sixth track, which would have been that of Ayrton.

“Ayrton is not with them!” said Herbert.

“No,” replied Pencroff, “the wretches have shot him.” But they must

have a den, to which we can track them.”

“No,” replied the reporter. “It is more likely that they intend to camp

about in places, after this manner, until they become masters of the

island.”

“Masters of the island!” cried the sailor. “Masters of the island,

indeed” he repeated in a horrified voice. Then he added:——

“The ball in my gun is the one which wounded Herbert and it will do its

errand!”

But this just reprisal would not restore Ayrton to life, and the only

conclusion to be drawn, from the footprints was that they would never

see him again!

That evening the camp was made fourteen miles front Granite House, and

Smith estimated that it was still five miles to Reptile End.

The next day this point was reached, and the full length of the forest

had been traversed; but nothing indicated the retreat of the convicts,

nor the asylum of the mysterious unknown.

CHAPTER LIV.

EXPLORATION OF REPTILE END—CAMP AT THE MOUTH OF FALL RIVER—BY THE

CORRAL—THE RECONNOISSANCE—THE RETURN—FORWARD—AN OPEN DOOR—A LIGHT IN

THE WINDOW—BY MOONLIGHT.

The next day, the 18th, was devoted to an exploration of the wooded

shore lying between Reptile End and Fall River. The colonists were

searching through the heart of the forest, whose width, bounded by the

shores of the promontory, was from three to four miles. The trees, by

their size and foliage, bore witness to the richness of the soil, more

productive here than in any other portion of the island. It seemed as

if a portion of the virgin forests of America or Central Africa had

been transported here. It seemed, also, as if these superb trees found

beneath the soil, moist on its surface, but heated below by volcanic

fires, a warmth not belonging to a temperate climate. The principal

trees, both in number and size, were the kauris and eucalypti.

But the object of the colonists was not to admire these magnificent

vegetables. They knew already that, in this respect, their island

merited a first place in the Canaries, called, formerly, the Fortunate

Isles. But, alas! their island no longer belonged to them alone; others

had taken possession, wretches whom it was necessary to destroy to the

last man.

On the west coast they found no further traces of any kind.

“This does not astonish me,” said Smith. “The convicts landed near

Jetsam Point, and, after having crossed Tadorn’s Fens, they buried

themselves in the forests of the Far West. They took nearly the same

route which we have followed. That explains the traces we have seen in

the woods. Arrived upon the shore, the convicts saw very clearly that

it offered no convenient shelter, and it was then, on going towards the

north, that they discovered the corral—”

“Where they may have returned,” said Pencroff.

“I do not think so,” answered the engineer, “as they would judge that

our searches would be in that direction. The corral is only a

provisional and not a permanent retreat for them.”

“I think so, too,” said the reporter, “and, further, that they have

sought a hiding place among the spurs of Mount Franklin.”

“Then let us push on to the corral!” cried Pencroff. “An end must be

put to this thing, and we are only losing time here.”

“No, my friend,” replied the engineer.

“You forget that we are interested in determining whether the forests

of the Far West do not shelter some habitation. Our exploration has a

double end, Pencroff; to punish crime and to make a discovery.”

“That is all very well, sir,” replied the sailor, “but I have an idea

that we will not discover our friend unless he chooses!”

Pencroff had expressed the opinion of the others as well as his own. It

was, indeed, probable that the retreat of the unknown being was no less

mysterious than his personality.

This evening the wagon halted at the mouth of Fall River. The

encampment was made in the usual way, with the customary precautions.

Herbert had recovered his former strength by this march in the fresh

salt air, and his place was no longer on the wagon, but at the head of

the line.

On the 19th, the colonists left the shore and followed up the left bank

of Fall River. The route was already partially cleared, owing to the

previous excursions made from the corral to the west coast. They

reached a place six miles from Mount Franklin.

The engineer’s project was to observe with great care all the valley

through which flowed the river, and to work cautiously up to the

corral. If they should find it occupied, they were to secure it by main

force, but if it should be empty, it was to be used as the point from

which the explorations of Mount Franklin would be made.

The road was through a narrow valley, separating two of the most

prominent spurs of Mount Franklin. The trees grew closely together on

the banks of the river, but were more scattered on the upper slopes.

The ground was very much broken, affording excellent opportunities for

an ambush, so that it was necessary to advance with great caution. Top

and Jup went ahead, exploring the thickets on either hand, but nothing

indicated either the presence or nearness of the convicts, or that

these banks had been recently visited.

About 5 o’clock the wagon halted 600 paces from the enclosure, hidden

by a curtain of tall trees.

It was necessary to reconnoitre the place, in order to find out whether

it was occupied, but to do this in the day-time was to run the risk of

being shot; nevertheless Spilett wanted to make the experiment at once,

and Pencroff, out of all patience, wanted to go with him. But Smith

would not permit it.

“No, my friends,” said he, “wait until nightfall. I will not allow one

of you to expose yourselves in the daylight.”

“But, sir,”—urged the sailor, but little disposed to obey.

“Pray do not go, Pencroff,” said the engineer.

“All right,” said the sailor. But he gave vent to his anger by calling

the convicts everything bad that he could think of.

The colonists remained about the wagon, keeping a sharp lookout in the

adjoining parts of the forest.

Three hours passed in this manner. The wind fell, and absolute silence

reigned over everything. The slightest sound—the snapping of a twig, a

step on the dry leaves—could easily have been heard. But all was quiet.

Top rested with his head between his paws, giving no sign of

inquietude.

By 8 o’clock the evening was far enough advanced for the reconnoissance

to be undertaken, and Spilett and Pencroff set off alone. Top and Jup

remained behind with the others, as it was necessary that no bark or

cry should give the alarm.

“Do not do anything imprudently,” urged Smith. “Remember, you are not

to take possession of the corral, but only to find out whether it is

occupied or not.”

“All right,” answered Pencroff.

The two set out, advancing with the greatest caution. Under the trees,

the darkness was such as to render objects, thirty or forty paces

distant, invisible. Five minutes after having left the wagon they

reached the edge of the opening, at the end of which rose the fence of

the enclosure. Here they halted. Some little light still illuminated

the glade. Thirty paces distant was the gate of the corral, which

seemed to be closed. These thirty paces which it was necessary to cross

constituted, to use a ballistic expression, the dangerous zone, as a

shot from the palisade would certainly have killed any one venturing

himself within this space,

Spilett and the sailor were not men to shirk danger, but they knew that

any imprudence of theirs would injure their companions as well as

themselves. If they were killed what would become of the others?

Nevertheless, Pencroff was so excited in finding himself again close to

the corral that he would have hurried forward had not the strong hand

of Spilett detained him. “In a few minutes it will be dark,” whispered

the reporter.

Pencroff grasped his gun nervously, and waited unwillingly.

Very soon the last rays of light disappeared. Mount Franklin loomed

darkly against the western sky, and the night fell with the rapidity

peculiar to these low latitudes. Now was the time.

The reporter and Pencroff, ever since their arrival on the edge of the

wood, had watched the corral. It seemed to be completely deserted. The

upper edge of the palisade was in somewhat stronger relief than the

surrounding shades, and nothing broke its outlines. Nevertheless, if

the convicts were there, they must have posted one of their number as a

guard.

Spilett took the hand of his companion, and crept cautiously forward to

the gate of the corral. Pencroff tried to push it open, but it was, as

they had supposed, fastened. But the sailor discovered that the outer

bars were not in place. They, therefore, concluded that the convicts

were within, and had fastened the gate so that it could only be broken

open.

They listened. No sound broke the silence. The animals were doubtless

sleeping in their sheds. Should they scale the fence? It was contrary

to Smith’s instructions. They might be successful or they might fail.

And, if there was now a chance of surprising the convicts, should they

risk that chance in this way?

The reporter thought not. He decided that it would be better to wait

until they were all together before making the attempt. Two things were

certain, that they could reach the fence unseen, and that the place

seemed unguarded.

Pencroff, probably, agreed to this, for he returned with the reporter

to the wood, and a few minutes later Smith was informed of the

situation.

“Well,” said he after reflecting for a moment, “I don’t think that the

convicts are here.”

“We will find out when we have climbed in.” cried Pencroff.

“To the corral, my friends.”

“Shall we leave the wagon in the wood?” cried Neb.

“No,” said Smith, “it may serve as a defense in case of need.”

The wagon issued from the wood and rolled noiselessly over the ground.

The darkness and the silence were profound. The colonists kept their

guns in readiness to fire. Jup kept behind, at Pencroff’s order, and

Neb held Top.

Soon the dangerous zone was crossed, and the wagon was drawn up beside

the fence. Neb stood at the head of the onagers to keep them quiet, and

the others went to the gate to determine if it was barricaded on the

inside.

One of its doors was open!

“What did you tell us?” exclaimed the engineer, turning to the sailor

and Spilett.

They were stupefied with amazement.

“Upon my soul,” cried the sailor, “It was shut a minute ago!”

The colonists hesitated. The convicts must have been in the corral when

Pencroff and the reporter had made their reconnoissance; for the gate

could only have been opened by them. Were they still there?

At this moment, Herbert, who had ventured some steps within the

inclosure, rushed back and seized Smith’s hand.

“What have you seen?” asked the engineer.

“A light!”

“In the house?”

“Yes, sir.”

All went forward and saw a feeble ray of light trembling through the

windows of the building.

Smith determined what to do at once.

“It is a fortunate chance, finding the convicts shut up in this house

not expecting anything! They are ours! Come on!”

The wagon was left under charge of Top and Jup, and the colonists

glided into the enclosure. In a few moments they were before the closed

door of the house.

Smith, making a sign to his companions not to move, approached the

window. He looked into the one room which formed the lower story of the

building. On the table was a lighted lantern, Near by was Ayrton’s bed.

On it was the body of a man.

Suddenly, Smith uttered a stiffled exclamation.

“Ayrton!” he cried.

And, at once, the door was rather forced than opened, and all rushed

into the chamber.

Ayrton seemed to be sleeping. His face showed marks of long and cruel

suffering. His wrists and ankles were much bruised.

Smith leaned over him.

“Ayrton!” cried the engineer, seizing in his arms this man found so

unexpectedly.

Ayrton opened his eyes, and looked first at Smith, then at the others.

“You! Is it you?” he cried.

“Ayrton! Ayrton!” repeated the engineer.

“Where am I?”

“In the corral.”

“Am I alone?”

“Yes.”

“Then they will come here!” cried Ayrton. “Look out for yourselves!

Defend yourselves!” and he fell back, fainting.

“Spilett,” said the engineer, “We may be attacked at any minute. Bring

the wagon inside the enclosure, and bar the gate, and then come back

here.”

Pencroff, Neb, and the reporter hastened to execute the orders of the

engineer. There was not an instant to be lost. Perhaps the wagon was

already in the hands of the convicts!

In a moment the reporter and his companions had gained the gate of the

enclosure, behind which they heard Top growling.

The engineer, leaving Ayrton for a moment, left the house, and held his

gun in readiness to fire. Herbert was beside him. Both scrutinized the

outline of the mountain spur overlooking the corral. If the convicts

were hidden in that place they could pick off the colonists one after

the other.

Just then the moon appeared in the east above the black curtain of the

forest, throwing a flood of light over the interior of the corral, and

bringing into relief the trees, the little water-course, and the grassy

carpet. Towards the mountain, the house and a part of the palisade

shone white; opposite it, towards the gate, the fence was in shadow.

A black mass soon showed itself. It was the wagon entering within the

circle of light, and Smith could hear the sound of the gate closing and

being solidly barricaded by his companions.

But at that moment Top, by a violent effort, broke his fastening, and,

barking furiously, rushed to the extremity of the corral to the right

of the house.

“Look out, my friends, be ready!” cried Smith.

The colonists waited, with their guns at the shoulder. Top continued to

bark, and Jup, running towards the dog, uttered sharp cries.

The colonists, following him, came to the border of the little brook,

overshadowed by large trees.

And there, in the full moonlight, what did they see?

Five corpses lay extended upon the bank!

They were the bodies of the convicts, who, four months before, had

landed upon Lincoln Island.

CHAPTER LV.

AYRTON’S RECITAL—PLANS OF HIS OLD COMRADES—TAKING POSSESSION OF THE

CORRAL—THE RULES OF THE ISLAND—THE GOOD LUCK—RESEARCHES ABOUT MOUNT

FRANKLIN—THE UPPER VALLEYS —SUBTERRANEAN RUMBLINGS—PENCROFF’S ANSWER—AT

THE BOTTOM OF THE CRATER-THE RETURN

How had it happened? Who had killed the convicts? Ayrton? No, since the

moment before he had feared their return!

But Ayrton was now in a slumber from which it was impossible to arouse

him. After he had spoken these few words, he had fallen back upon his

bed, seized by a sudden torpor.

The colonists, terribly excited, preyed upon by a thousand confused

thoughts, remained all night in the house. The next morning Ayrton

awoke from his sleep, and his companions demonstrated to him their joy

at finding him safe and sound after all these months of separation.

Then Ayrton related in a few words all that had happened.

The day after his return to the corral, the 10th of November, just at

nightfall, he had been surprised by the convicts, who had climbed over

the fence. He was tied and gagged and taken to a dark cavern at the

foot of Mount Franklin, where the convicts had a retreat.

His death had been resolved upon, and he was to be killed the following

day, when one of the convicts recognized him and called him by the name

he had borne in Australia. These wretches, who would have massacred

Ayrton, respected Ben Joyce.

From this moment Ayrton was subjected to the importunities of his old

comrades. They wished to gain him over to them, and they counted upon

him to take Granite House, to enter that inaccessible dwelling, and to

become masters of the island, after having killed the colonists.

Ayrton resisted. The former convict, repentant and pardoned, would

rather die than betray his companions.

For four months, fastened, gagged, watched, he had remained in this

cavern.

Meanwhile the convicts lived upon the stock in the corral, but did not

inhabit the place.

On the 11th of November, two of these bandits, inopportunely surprised

by the arrival of the colonists, fired on Herbert, and one of them

returned boasting of having killed one of the inhabitants. His

companion, as we know, had fallen at Smith’s hand.

One can judge of Ayrton’s despair, when he heard of Herbert’s death! It

left but four of the colonists, almost at the mercy of the convicts!

Following this event, and during all the time that the colonists,

detained by Herbert’s illness, remained at the corral, the pirates did

not leave their cave; indeed, after having pillaged Prospect Plateau,

they did not deem it prudent to leave it.

The bad treatment of Ayrton was redoubled. His hands and feet still

bore the red marks of the lines with which he remained bound, day and

night. Each moment he expected to be killed.

This was the third week in February. The convicts, awaiting a favorable

opportunity, rarely left their retreat, and then only to a point in the

interior or on the west coast. Ayrton had no news of his friends, and

no hopes of seeing them again.

Finally, the poor unfortunate, enfeebled by bad treatment, fell in a

profound prostration in which he neither saw nor heard anything. From

this moment, he could not say what had happened.

“But, Mr. Smith,” he added, “since I was imprisoned in this cavern, how

is it that I am here?”

“How is that the convicts are lying there, dead, in the middle of the

corral?” answered the engineer.

“Dead!” cried Ayrton, half rising, notwithstanding his feebleness. His

companions assisted him to get up, and all went to the little brook.

It was broad daylight. There on the shore, in the position in which

they had met their deaths, lay the five convicts.

Ayrton was astounded. The others looked on without speaking. Then, at a

sign from Smith, Neb and Pencroff examined the bodies. Not a wound was

visible upon them. Only after minute search, Pencroff perceived on the

forehead of one, on the breast of another, on this one’s back, and on

the shoulder of a fourth, a small red mark, a hardly visible bruise,

made by some unknown instrument.

“There is where they have been hit!” said Smith.

“But with what sort of a weapon?” cried the reporter.

“A destructive weapon enough, though unknown to us!”

“And who has destroyed them?” asked Pencroff.

“The ruler of the island,” answered Smith, “he who has brought you

here, Ayrton, whose influence is again manifesting itself, who does for

us what we are unable to do for ourselves, and who then hides from us.”

“Let us search for him!” cried Pencroff.

“Yes, we will search,” replied Smith; “but the being who accomplishes

such prodigies will not be found until it pleases him to call us to

him!”

This invisible protection, which nullified their own actions, both

annoyed and affected the engineer. The relative inferiority in which it

placed him wounded his pride. A generosity which so studiously eluded

all mark of recognition denoted a sort of disdain for those benefited,

which, in a measure, detracted from the value of the gift.

“Let us search,” he repeated, “and Heaven grant that some day we be

permitted to prove to this haughty protector that he is not dealing

with ingrates! What would I not give to be able, in our turn, to repay

him, and to render him, even at the risk of our lives, some signal

service!”

From this time, this search was the single endeavor of the inhabitants

of Lincoln Island. All tried to discover the answer to this enigma, an

answer which involved the name of a man endowed with an inexplicable,

an almost superhuman power.

In a short time, the colonists entered the house again, and their

efforts soon restored Ayrton to himself. Neb and Pencroff carried away

the bodies of the convicts and buried them in the wood. Then, Ayrton

was informed by the engineer of all that had happened during his

imprisonment.

“And now,” said Smith, finishing his recital, “we have one thing more

to do. Half of our task is accomplished; but if the convicts are no

longer to be feared, we did not restore ourselves to the mastership of

the island!”

“Very well,” replied Spilett, “let us search all the mazes of Mount

Franklin. Let us leave no cavity, no hole unexplored! Ah! if ever a

reporter found himself in the presence of an exciting mystery. I am in

that position!”

“And we will not return to Granite House,” said Herbert, “until we have

found our benefactor.”

“Yes,” said Smith, “we will do everything that is possible for human

beings to do—but, I repeat it, we will not find him till he wills it.”

“Shall we stay here at the corral?” asked Pencroff.

“Yes,” replied the engineer, “let us remain here. Provisions are

abundant, and we are in the centre of our circle of investigation, and,

moreover, if it is necessary, the wagon can go quickly to Granite

House.”

“All right,” said Pencroff. “Only one thing.”

“What is that?”

“Why, the fine weather is here, and we must not forget that we have a

voyage to make.”

“A voyage?” asked Spilett.

“Yes, to Tabor Island. We most put up a notice, indicating our island,

in case the Scotch yacht returns. Who knows that it is not already too

late?”

“But, Pencroff,” asked Ayrton, “how do you propose to make this

voyage?”

“Why, on the Good Luck!”

“The Good Luck!” cried Ayrton. “It’s gone!”

“Gone!” shouted Pencroff, springing to his feet.

“Yes. The convicts discovered where the sloop lay, and, a week ago,

they put out to sea in her, and—”

“And?” said Pencroff, his heart trembling.

“And, not having Harvey to manage her, they ran her upon the rocks, and

she broke all to pieces!”

“Oh! the wretches! the pirates! the devils!” exclaimed the sailor.

“Pencroff,” said Herbert, taking his hand, “we will build another, a

larger Good Luck. We have all the iron, all the rigging of the brig at

our disposal!”

“But, do you realize,” answered Pencroff, “that it will take at least

five or six months to build a vessel of thirty or forty tons.”

“We will take our time,” replied the reporter, “and we will give up our

voyage to Tabor Island for this year.”

“We must make the best of it, Pencroff,” said the engineer, “and I hope

that this delay will not be prejudicial to us.”

“My poor Good Luck! my poor boat!” exclaimed the sailor, half

broken-hearted at the loss of what was so dear to him.

The destruction of the sloop was a thing much to be regretted, and it

was agreed that this loss must be repaired as soon as the search was

ended.

This search was begun the same day, the 19th of February, and lasted

throughout the week. The base of the mountain was composed of a perfect

labyrinth of ravines and gorges, and it was here that the explorations

must be made. No other part of the island was so well suited to hide an

inhabitant who wished to remain concealed. But so great was the

intricacy of these places that Smith explored them by a settled system.

In the first place, the colonists visited the valley opening to the

south of the volcano, in which Fall River rose. Here was where Ayrton

showed them the cavern of the convicts. This place was in exactly the

same condition as Ayrton had left it. They found here a quantity of

food and ammunition left there as a reserve by the convicts.

All this beautiful wooded valley was explored with great care, and

then, the south-western spur having been turned, the colonists searched

a narrow gorge where the trees were less numerous. Here the stones took

the place of grass, and the wild goats and moufflons bounded among the

rocks. The arid part of the island began at this part. They saw already

that, of the numerous valleys ramifying from the base of Mount

Franklin, three only, bounded on the west by Fall River and on the east

by Red Creek, were as rich and fertile as the valley of the corral.

These two brooks, which developed into rivers as they progressed,

received the whole of the mountain’s southern water-shed and fertilized

that portion of it. As to the Mercy it was more directly fed by

abundant springs, hidden in Jacamar Wood.

Now any one of these three valleys would have answered for the retreat

of some recluse, who would have found there all the necessaries of

life. But the colonists had explored each of them without detecting the

presence of man. Was it then at the bottom of these arid gorges, in the

midst of heaps of rocks, in the rugged ravines to the north, between

the streams of lava, that they would find this retreat and its

occupant?

The northern part of Mount Franklin had at its base two large, arid

valleys strewn with lava, sown with huge rocks, sprinkled with pieces

of obsidian and labradorite. This part required long and difficult

exploration. Here were a thousand cavities, not very comfortable,

perhaps, but completely hidden and difficult of access. The colonists

visited sombre tunnels, made in the plutonic epoch, still blackened by

the fires of other days, which plunged into the heart of the mountain.

They searched these dark galleries by the light of torches, peering

into their least excavations and sounding their lowest depths. But

everywhere was silence, obscurity. It did not seem as if any human

being had ever trodden these antique corridors or an arm displaced one

of these stones.

Nevertheless, if these places were absolutely deserted, if the

obscurity was complete, Smith was forced to notice that absolute

silence did not reign there.

Having arrived at the bottom of one of those sombre cavities, which

extended several hundred feet into the interior of the mountain, he was

surprised to hear deep muttering sounds which were intensified by the

sonority of the rocks.

Spilett, who was with him, also heard these distant murmurs, which

indicated an awakening of the subterranean fires.

Several times they listened, and they came to the conclusion that some

chemical reaction was going on in the bowels of the earth.

“The volcano is not entirely extinct,” said the reporter.

“It is possible that, since our exploration of the crater, something

has happened in its lower regions. All volcanoes, even those which are

said to be extinct, can, evidently, become active again.”

“But if Mount Franklin is preparing for another eruption, is not

Lincoln Island in danger?”

“I don’t think so,” answered the engineer, “The crater, that is to say,

the safety-valve, exists, and the overflow of vapors and lavas will

escape, as heretofore, by its accustomed outlet.”

“Unless the lavas make a new passage towards the fertile parts of the

island.”

“Why, my dear Spilett, should they not follow their natural course?”

“Well, volcanoes are capricious.”

“Notice,” said Smith, “that all the slope of the mountain favors the

flow of eruptive matter towards the valleys which we are traversing at

present. It would take an earthquake to so change the centre of gravity

of the mountain as to modify this slope.”

“But an earthquake is always possible under these conditions.”

“True,” replied the engineer, “especially when the subterranean forces

are awakening, and the bowels of the earth, after a long repose, chance

to be obstructed. You are right, my dear Spilett, an eruption would be

a serious thing for us, and it would be better if this volcano has not

the desire to wake up; but we can do nothing. Nevertheless, in any

case, I do not think Prospect Plateau could be seriously menaced.

Between it and the lake there is quite a depression in the land, and

even if the lavas took the road to the lake, they would be distributed

over the downs and the parts adjoining Shark Gulf.”

“We have not yet seen any smoke from the summit, indicating a near

eruption,” said Spilett.

“No,” answered the engineer, “not the least vapor has escaped from the

crater. It was but yesterday that I observed its upper part. But it is

possible that rocks, cinders, and hardened lavas have accumulated in

the lower part of its chimney, and, for the moment, this safety-valve

is overloaded. But, at the first serious effort, all obstacles will

disappear, and you may be sure, my dear Spilett, that neither the

island, which is the boiler, nor the volcano, which is the valve, will

burst under the pressure. Nevertheless, I repeat, it is better to wish

for no eruption.”

“And yet we are not mistaken,” replied the reporter. “We plainly hear

ominous rumblings in the depths of the volcano!”

“No,” replied the engineer, after listening again with the utmost

attention, “that is not to be mistaken. Something is going on there the

importance of which cannot be estimated nor what the result will be.”

Smith and Spilett, on rejoining their companions, told them of these

things.

“All right!” cried Pencroff. “This volcano wants to take care of us!

But let it try! It will find its master!”

“Who’s that?” asked the negro.

“Our genius, Neb, our good genius, who will put a gag in the mouth of

the crater if it attempts to open it.”

The confidence of the sailor in the guardian of the island was

absolute, and, indeed, the occult power which had so far been

manifested seemed limitless; but, thus far this being had escaped all

the efforts the colonists had made to discover him.

From the 19th to the 25th of February, the investigations were

conducted in the western portion of Lincoln Island, where the most

secret recesses were searched. They even sounded each rocky wall, as

one knocks against the walls of a suspected house. The engineer went so

far as to take the exact measure of the mountain, and he pushed his

search to the last strata sustaining it. It was explored to the summit

of the truncated cone which rose above the first rocky level, and from

there to the upper edge of the enormous cap at the bottom of which

opened the crater.

They did more; they visited the gulf, still extinct, but in whose

depths the rumblings were distinctly heard. Nevertheless, not a smoke,

not a vapor, no heat in the wall, indicated a near eruption. But

neither there, nor in any other part of Mount Franklin, did the

colonists find the traces of him whom they sought.

Their investigations were then directed over all the tract of downs.

They carefully examined the high lava walls of Shark Gulf from base to

summit, although it was very difficult to reach the water level. No

one! Nothing!

These two words summed up in brief the result of all the useless

fatigues Smith and his companions had been at, and they were a trifle

annoyed at their ill success.

But it was necessary now to think of returning, as these researches

could not be pursued indefinitely. The colonists were convinced that

this mysterious being did not reside upon the surface of the island,

and strange thoughts floated through their over-excited imaginations;

Neb and Pencroff, particularly, went beyond the strange into the region

of the supernatural. The 25th of February, the colonists returned to

Granite House, and by means of the double cord, shot by an arrow to the

door-landing, communication was established with their domain.

One month later, they celebrated the third anniversary of their arrival

on Lincoln Island.

CHAPTER LVI.

AFTER THREE YEARS—THE QUESTION OF A NEW SHIP—ITS

DETERMINATION—PROSPERITY OF THE COLONY—THE SHIPYARD—THE COLD

WEATHER—PENCROFF RESIGNED—WASHING—MOUNT FRANKLIN.

Three years had passed since the prisoners had fled from Richmond, and

in all that time their conversation and their thoughts had been of the

fatherland.

They had no doubt that the war was ended, and that the North had

triumphed. But how? At what cost? What friends had fallen in the

struggle? They often talked of these things, although they had no

knowledge when they would be able to see that country again. To return,

if only for a few days; to renew their intercourse with civilization;

to establish a communication between their island and the mother

country, and then to spend the greater part of their lives in this

colony which they had founded and which would then be raised to a

metropolis, was this a dream which could not be realized?

There were but two ways of realizing it: either a ship would some day

show itself in the neighborhood of Lincoln Island, or the colonists

must themselves build a vessel staunch enough to carry them to the

nearest land.

“Unless our genius furnishes us with the means of returning home,” said

Pencroff.

And, indeed, if Neb and Pencroff had been told that a 300-ton ship was

waiting for them in Shark Gulf or Balloon Harbor, they would not have

manifested any surprise. In their present condition they expected every

thing.

But Smith, less confident, urged them to keep to realities, and to

build the vessel, whose need was urgent, since a paper should be placed

on Tabor Island as soon as possible, in order to indicate the new abode

of Ayrton.

The Good Luck was gone. It would take at least six mouths to build

another vessel, and, as winter was approaching, the voyage could not be

made before the next spring.

“We have time to prepare ourself for the fine weather,” said the

engineer, talking of these things with Pencroff. “I think, therefore,

since we have to build our own ship, it will be better to make her

dimensions greater than before. The arrival of the

Scotch yacht is uncertain. It may even have happened that it has come

and gone. What do you think? Would it not be better to build a vessel,

that, in case of need, could carry us to the archipelagoes or New

Zealand?”

“I think, sir, that you are as able to build a large vessel as a small

one. Neither wood nor tools are wanting. It is only a question of

time.”

“And how long would it take to build a ship of 250 or 300 tons?”

“Seven or eight months at least. But we must not forget that winter is

at hand, and that the timber will be difficult to work during the

severe cold. So, allowing for some weeks’ delay, you can be happy if

you have your ship by next November.”

“Very well, that will be just the season to undertake a voyage of some

length, be it to Tabor Island of further.”

“All right, Mr. Smith, make your plans. The workmen are ready, and I

guess that Ayrton will lend a helping hand.”

The engineer’s project met the approval of the colonists, and indeed it

was the best thing to do. It is true that it was a great undertaking,

but they had that confidence in themselves, which is one of the

elements of success.

While Smith was busy preparing the plans of the vessel, the others

occupied themselves in felling the trees and preparing the timber. The

forests of the Far West furnished the best oak and elm, which were

carried over the new road through the forest to the Chimneys, where the

ship-yard was established.

It was important that the timber should be cut soon, as it was

necessary to have it seasoning for some time. Therefore the workmen

worked vigorously during April, which was not an inclement month, save

for some violent wind storms. Jup helped them by his adroitness, either

in climbing to the top of a tree to fasten a rope, or by carrying loads

on his strong shoulders.

The timber was piled under a huge shed to await its use; and,

meanwhile, the work in the fields was pushed forward, so that soon all

traces of the devastation caused by the pirates had disappeared. The

mill was rebuilt, and a new inclosure for the poultry yard. This had to

be much larger than the former, as the number of its occupants had

increased largely. The stables contained five onagas, four of them well

broken, and one little colt. A plough had been added to the stock of

the colony, and the onagas were employed in tillage as if they were

Yorkshire or Kentucky cattle. All the colonists did their share, and

there were no idle hands. And thus, with good health and spirits, they

formed a thousand projects for the future.

Ayrton, of course, partook of the common existence, and spoke no longer

of returning to the corral. Nevertheless, he was always quiet and

uncommunicative, and shared more in the work than the pleasure of his

companions. He was a strong workman, vigorous, adroit, intelligent, and

he could not fail to see that he was esteemed and loved by the others.

But the corral was not abandoned. Every other day some one went there

and brought back the supply of milk for the colony, and these occasions

were also hunting excursions. So that, Herbert and Spilett, with Top in

advance, oftenest made the journey, and all kinds of game abounded in

the kitchen of Granite House. The products of the warren and the

oyster-bed, some turtles, a haul of excellent salmon, the vegetables

from the plateau, the natural fruits of the forest, were riches upon

riches, and Neb, the chief cook, found it difficult to store them all

away.

The telegraph had been repaired, and was used whenever one of the party

remained over night at the corral. But the island was secure now from

any aggression—at least from men.

Nevertheless, what had happened once might happen again, and a descent

of pirates was always to be feared. And it was possible that

accomplices of Harvey, still in Norfolk, might be privy to his projects

and seek to imitate them. Every day the colonists searched the horizon

visible from Granite House with the glass, and whenever they were at

the corral they examined the west coast. Nothing appeared, but they

were always on the alert.

One evening the engineer told his companions of a project to fortify

the corral. It seemed prudent to heighten the palisade, and to flank it

with a sort of block house, in which the colonists could defend

themselves against a host of enemies. Granite House, owing to its

position, was impregnable, and the corral would always be the objective

point of pirates.

About the 15th of May the keel of the new vessel was laid, and the stem

and stern posts raised. This keel was of oak, 110 feet long, and the

breadth of beam was 25 feet. But, with the exception of putting up a

couple of the frame pieces, this was all that could be done before the

bad weather and the cold set in.

During the latter part of the month the weather was very inclement.

Pencroff and Ayrton worked as long as they were able, but severely cold

weather following the rain made the wood impossible to handle, and by

the 10th of June the work was given up entirely, and the colonists were

often obliged to keep in-doors.

This confinement was hard for all of them, but especially so for

Spilett.

“I’ll tell you what, Neb,” he said, “I will give you everything I own

if you will get me a newspaper! All that I want to make me happy is to

know what is going on in the world!”

Neb laughed.

“Faith!” said he, “I am busy enough with my daily work.”

And, indeed, occupation was not wanting. The colony was at the summit

of prosperity. The accident to the brig had been a new source of

riches. Without counting a complete outfit of sails, which would answer

for the new ship, utensils and tools of all sorts, ammunition,

clothing, and instruments filled the store-rooms of Granite House.

There was no longer a necessity to manufacture cloth in the felting

mill. Linen, also, was plenty, and they took great care of it. From the

chloride of sodium Smith had easily extracted soda and chlorine. The

soda was easily transformed into carbonate of soda, and the chlorine

was employed for various domestic purposes, but especially for cleaning

the linen. Moreover, they made but four washings a year, as was the

custom in old times, and Pencroff and Spilett, while waiting for the

postman to bring the paper, made famous washermen!

Thus passed June, July, and August; very rigorous months, in which the

thermometer measured but 8° Fahrenheit. But a good fire burned in the

chimney of Granite House, and the superfluity of wood from the

ship-yard enabled them to economize the coal, which required a longer

carriage.

All, men and beasts, enjoyed good health. Jup, it is true, shivered a

little with the cold, and they had to make him a good wadded wrapper.

What servant he was! Adroit, zealous, indefatigable, not indiscreet,

not talkative. He was, indeed, a model for his biped brethren in the

New and the Old World!

“But, after all,” said Pencroff “when one has four hands, they cannot

help doing their work well!”

During the seven months that had passed since the exploration of the

mountain nothing had been seen or heard of the genius of the island.

Although, it is true, that nothing had happened to the colonists

requiring his assistance.

Smith noticed, too, that the growling of the dog and the anxiety of the

orang had ceased during this time. These two friends no longer ran to

the orifice of the well nor acted in that strange way which had

attracted the attention of the engineer. But did this prove that

everything had happened that was going to happen? That they were never

to find an answer to the enigma? Could it be affirmed that no new

conjunction of circumstances would make this mysterious personage

appear again? Who knows what the future may bring forth?

On the 7th of September, Smith, looking towards Mount Franklin, saw a

smoke rising and curling above the crater.

CHAPTER LVII.

THE AWAKENING OF THE VOLCANO—THE FINE WEATHER—RESUMPTION OF WORK—THE

EVENING OF THE 15TH OF OCTOBER—A TELEGRAPH—A DEMAND—AN ANSWER—DEPARTURE

FOR THE CORRAL—THE NOTICE—THE EXTRA WIRE—THE BASALT WALL—AT HIGH

TIDE—AT LOW TIDE—THE CAVERN—A DAZZLING LIGHT.

The colonists, called by Smith, had left their work, and gazed in

silence at the summit of Mount Franklin.

The volcano had certainly awakened, and its vapors had penetrated the

mineral matter of the crater, but no one could say whether the

subterranean fires would bring on a violent eruption.

But, even supposing an eruption, it was not likely that Lincoln Island

would suffer in every part. The discharges of volcanic matter are not

always disastrous. That the island had already been subjected to an

eruption was evident from the currents of lava spread over the western

slope of the mountain. Moreover, the shape of the crater was such as to

vomit matter in the direction away from the fertile parts of the

island.

Nevertheless, what had been was no proof of what would be. Often the

old craters of volcanoes close and new ones open. An earthquake

phenomenon, often accompanying volcanic action, may do this by changing

the interior arrangement of the mountain and opening new passages for

the incandescent lavas.

Smith explained these things to his companions, and without

exaggerating the situation, showed them just what might happen.

After all, they could do nothing. Granite House did not seem to be

menaced, unless by a severe earthquake. But all feared for the corral,

if any new crater opened in the mountain.

From this time the vapor poured from the cone without cessation, and,

indeed, increased in density and volume, although no flame penetrated

its thick folds. The phenomenon was confined, as yet, to the lower part

of the central chimney.

Meanwhile, with good weather, the work out of doors had been resumed.

They hastened the construction of the ship, and Smith established a

saw-mill at the waterfall, which cut the timber much more rapidly.

Towards the end of September the frame of the ship, which was to be

schooner-rigged, was so far completed that its shape could be

recognized. The schooner, sheer forward and wide aft, was well adapted

for a long voyage, in case of necessity, but the planking, lining, and

decking still demanded a long time before they could be finished.

Fortunately, the iron-work of the brig had been saved after the

explosion, and Pencroff and Ayrton had obtained a great quantity of

copper nails from the broken timber, which economized the labor for the

smiths; nevertheless the carpenters had much to accomplish.

Often, however, after the day’s work was ended, the colonists sat late

into the night, conversing together of the future and what might happen

in a voyage in the schooner to the nearest land. But in discussing

these projects they always planned to return to Lincoln Island. Never

would they abandon this colony, established with so much difficulty,

but so successfully, and which would receive a new development through

communication with America.

Pencroff and Neb, indeed, hoped to end their days here.

“Herbert,” asked the sailor, “you would never abandon Lincoln Island?”

“Never, Pencroff, especially if you made up your mind to remain.”

“Then, it’s agreed, my boy. I shall expect you! You will bring your

wife and children here, and I will make a jolly playmate for the

babies!”

“Agreed,” answered Herbert, laughing and blushing at the same time.

“And you, Mr. Smith,” continued the sailor, enthusiastically, “you will

always remain governor of the island! And, by the way, how many

inhabitants can the island support? Ten thousand, at the very least!”

They chatted in this way, letting Pencroff indulge in his whims, and

one thing leading to another, the reporter finished by founding the

_New Lincoln Herald_!

Thus it is with the spirit of man. The need of doing something

permanent, something which will survive him, is the sign of his

superiority over everything here below. It is that which has

established and justifies his domination over the whole world.

After all, who knows if Jup and Top had not their dream of the future?

Ayrton, silent, said to himself that he wanted to see Lord Glenarvan,

and show him the change in himself.

One evening, the 15th of October, the conversation was prolonged longer

than usual. It was 9 o’clock, and already, long, ill-concealed yawns

showed that it was bed-time. Pencroff was about starting in that

direction, when, suddenly, the electric bell in the hall rang.

Every one was present, so none of their party could be at the corral.

Smith rose. His companions looked as if they had not heard aright.

“What does he want?” cried Neb. “Is it the devil that’s ringing?”

No one replied.

“It is stormy weather,” said Herbert; “perhaps the electric

influence——”

Herbert did not finish the sentence. The engineer, towards whom all

were looking, shook his head.

“Wait a minute,” said Spilett. “If it is a signal, it will be

repeated.”

“But what do you think it is?” asked Neb.

“Perhaps it——”

The sailor’s words were interrupted by another ring.

Smith went to the apparatus, and, turning on the current, telegraphed

to the corral:——

“What do you want?”

A few minutes later the needle, moving over the lettered card, gave

this answer to the inmates of Granite House:—

“Come to the corral as quickly as possible.”

“At last!” cried Smith.

Yes! At last! The mystery was about to be solved! Before the strong

interest in what was at the corral, all fatigue and need of repose

vanished. Without saying a word, in a few minutes they were out of

Granite House and following the shore. Only Top and Jup remained

behind.

The night was dark. The moon, new this day, had set with the sun. Heavy

clouds obscured the stars, but now and then heat-lightning, the

reflection of a distant storm, illuminated the horizon.

But, great as the darkness was, it could not hinder persons as familiar

with the route as were the colonists. All were very much excited, and

walked rapidly. There could be no doubt that they were going to find

the answer to the engineer, the name of that mysterious being, who was

so generous in his influence, so powerful to accomplish! It could not

be doubted that this unknown had been familiar with the least detail of

their daily lives, that he overheard all that was said in Granite

House.

Each one, lost in his reflections, hurried onward. The darkness under

the trees was such that the route was invisible. There was no sound in

the forest. Not a breath of wind moved the leaves.

This silence during the first quarter of an hour was uninterrupted,

save by Pencroff, who said:——

“We should have brought a lantern.”

And by the engineer’s answer:——

“We will find one at the corral.”

Smith and his companions had left Granite House at twelve minutes past

9. In thirty-five minutes they had traversed three of the five miles

between the mouth of the Mercy and the corral.

Just then, brilliant flashes of lightning threw the foliage into strong

relief. The storm was evidently about to burst upon them. The flashes

became more frequent and intense. Heavy thunder rolled through the

heavens. The air was stifling.

The colonists rushed on, as if impelled by some irresistible force.

At a quarter past 9, a sudden flash showed them the outline of the

palisade; and scarcely had they passed the gateway when there came a

terrible clap of thunder. In a moment the corral was crossed, and Smith

stood before the house. It was possible that the unknown being was

here, since it was from this place that the telegraph had come.

Nevertheless, there was no light in the window.

The engineer knocked at the door, but without response.

He opened it, and the colonists entered the room, which was in utter

darkness.

A light was struck by Neb, and in a moment the lantern was lit, and its

light directed into every corner of the chamber.

No one was there, and everything remained undisturbed.

“Are we victims to a delusion?” murmured Smith.

No! that was impossible! The telegraph had certainly said:——

“Come to the corral quickly as possible.”

He went to the table on which the apparatus was arranged. Everything

was in place and in order.

“Who was here last?” asked the engineer.

“I, sir,” answered Ayrton.

“And that was——”

“Four days ago.”

“Ah! here is something!” exclaimed Herbert, pointing to a paper lying

on the table.

On the paper were these words, written in English:——

“Follow the new wire.”

“Come on!” cried Smith, who comprehended in a moment that the dispatch

had not been sent from the corral, but from the mysterious abode which

the new wire united directly with Granite House.

Neb took the lantern and all left the corral.

Then the storm broke forth with extreme violence. Flashes of lightning

and peals of thunder followed in rapid succession. The island was the

centre of the storm. By the flashes of lightning they could see the

summit of Mount Franklin enshrouded in smoke.

There were no telegraph poles inside the corral, but the engineer,

having passed the gate, ran to the nearest post, and saw there a new

wire fastened to the insulator, and reaching to the ground.

“Here it is!” he cried.

The wire lay along the ground, and was covered with some insulating

substance, like the submarine cables. By its direction it seemed as if

it went towards the west, across the woods, and the southern spurs of

the mountain.

“Let us follow it,” said Smith.

And sometimes by the light of the lantern, sometimes by the

illumination of the heavens, the colonists followed the way indicated

by the thread.

They crossed in the first place, the spur of the mountain between the

valley of the corral and that of Fall River, which stream was crossed

in its narrowest part. The wire, sometimes hanging on the lower

branches of the trees, sometimes trailing along the ground, was a sure

guide.

The engineer had thought that, perhaps, the wire would end at the

bottom of the valley, and that the unknown retreat was there.