Boat-building -- Second Crop of Corn -- Hunting Koalas -- A
new Plant, more Pleasant than Useful -- Whale in Sight -- A
Harpoon from the Vineyard -- Cutting up the Whale -- Use for
the Bones -- End of the Month of May -- Pencroft has nothing
left to wish for.
When Pencroft had once got a plan into his head, he had no peace till
it was executed. Now he wished to visit Tabor Island, and as a boat of
a certain size was necessary for this voyage, he determined to build
one.
What wood should be employed? Elm or fir, both of which abounded in
the island? They decided for the fir, as being easy to work, but which
stands water as well as the elm.
These details settled, it was agreed that since the fine season would
not return before six months, Cyrus Harding and Pencroft should work
alone at the boat. Gideon Spilett and Herbert were to continue to
hunt, and neither Neb nor Master Jup his assistant were to leave the
domestic duties which had devolved upon them.
Directly the trees were chosen, they were felled, stripped of their
branches, and sawn into planks as well as sawyers would have been able
to do it. A week after, in the recess between the Chimneys and the
cliff, a dockyard was prepared, and a keel five-and-thirty feet long,
furnished with a stern-post at the stern and a stem at the bows, lay
along the sand.
Cyrus Harding was not working in the dark at this new trade. He knew
as much about ship-building as about nearly everything else, and he
had at first drawn the model of his ship on paper. Besides, he was
ably seconded by Pencroft, who, having worked for several years in a
dockyard at Brooklyn, knew the practical part of the trade. It was not
until after careful calculation and deep thought that the timbers were
laid on the keel.
Pencroft, as may be believed, was all eagerness to carry out his new
enterprise, and would not leave his work for an instant.
A single thing had the honour of drawing him, but for one day only,
from his dockyard. This was the second wheat-harvest, which was
gathered in on the 15th of April. It was as much a success as the
first, and yielded the number of grains which had been predicted.
"Five bushels, captain," said Pencroft, after having scrupulously
measured his treasure.
"Five bushels," replied the engineer; "and a hundred and thirty
thousand grains a bushel will make six hundred and fifty thousand
grains."
"Well, we will sow them all this time," said the sailor, "except a
little in reserve."
"Yes, Pencroft, and if the next crop gives a proportionate yield, we
shall have four thousand bushels."
"And shall we eat bread?"
"We shall eat bread."
"But we must have a mill."
"We will make one."
The third cornfield was very much larger than the two first, and the
soil, prepared with extreme care, received the precious seed. That
done, Pencroft returned to his work.
During this time Spilett and Herbert hunted in the neighbourhood, and
they ventured deep into the still unknown parts of the Far West, their
guns loaded with ball, ready for any dangerous emergency. It was a
vast thicket of magnificent trees, crowded together as if pressed for
room. The exploration of these dense masses of wood was difficult in
the extreme, and the reporter never ventured there without the
pocket-compass, for the sun scarcely pierced through the thick
foliage, and it would have been very difficult for them to retrace
their way. It naturally happened that game was more rare in those
situations where there was hardly sufficient room to move; two or
three large herbivorous animals were however killed during the last
fortnight of April. These were koalas, specimens of which the settlers
had already seen to the north of the lake, and which stupidly allowed
themselves to be killed among the thick branches of the trees in which
they took refuge. Their skins were brought back to Granite House, and
there, by the help of sulphuric acid, they were subjected to a sort of
tanning process which rendered them capable of being used.
[Illustration: THE DOCKYARD]
On the 30th of April, the two sportsmen were in the depth of the Far
West, when the reporter, preceding Herbert a few paces, arrived in a
sort of clearing, into which the trees more sparsely scattered had
permitted a few rays to penetrate. Gideon Spilett was at first
surprised at the odour which exhaled from certain plants with straight
stalks, round and branchy, bearing grape-like clusters of flowers and
very small berries. The reporter broke off one or two of these stalks
and returned to the lad, to whom he said,--
"What can this be, Herbert?"
"Well, Mr. Spilett," said Herbert, "this is a treasure which will
secure you Pencroft's gratitude for ever."
"Is it tobacco?"
"Yes, and though it may not be of the first quality, it is none the
less tobacco!"
"Oh, good old Pencroft! Won't he be pleased? But we must not let him
smoke it all, he must give us our share."
"Ah! an idea occurs to me, Mr. Spilett," replied Herbert. "Don't let
us say anything to Pencroft yet; we will prepare these leaves, and one
fine day we will present him with a pipe already filled!"
"All right, Herbert, and on that day our worthy companion will have
nothing left to wish for in this world."
The reporter and the lad secured a good store of the precious plant,
and then returned to Granite House, where they smuggled it in with as
much precaution as if Pencroft had been the most vigilant and severe
of custom-house officers.
Cyrus Harding and Neb were taken into confidence, and the sailor
suspected nothing during the whole time, necessarily somewhat long,
which was required in order to dry the small leaves, chop them up, and
subject them to a certain torrefaction on hot stones. This took two
months; but all these manipulations were successfully carried on
unknown to Pencroft, for, occupied with the construction of his boat,
he only returned to Granite House at the hour of rest.
For some days they had observed an enormous animal two or three miles
out in the open sea swimming around Lincoln Island. This was a whale
of the largest size, which apparently belonged to the southern
species, called the "Cape Whale."
"What a lucky chance it would be if we could capture it!" cried the
sailor. "Ah, if we only had a proper boat and a good harpoon, I would
say, 'After the beast,' for he would be well worth the trouble of
catching!"
"Well, Pencroft," observed Harding, "I should much like to watch you
handling a harpoon. It would be very interesting."
"I am astonished," said the reporter, "to see a whale in this
comparatively high latitude."
"Why so, Mr. Spilett?" replied Herbert. "We are exactly in that part
of the Pacific which English and American whalemen call the whale
field, and it is here, between New Zealand and South America, that the
whales of the southern hemisphere are met with in the greatest
numbers."
And Pencroft returned to his work, not without uttering a sigh of
regret, for every sailor is a born fisherman, and if the pleasure of
fishing is in exact proportion to the size of the animal, one can
judge how a whaler feels in sight of a whale. And if this had only
been for pleasure! But they could not help feeling how valuable such a
prize would have been to the colony, for the oil, the fat, and the
bones would have been put to many uses.
Now it happened that this whale appeared to have no wish to leave the
waters of the island. Therefore, whether from the windows of Granite
House, or from Prospect Heights, Herbert and Gideon Spilett, when they
were not hunting, or Neb unless presiding over his fires, never left
the telescope, but watched all the animal's movements. The cetacean,
having entered far into Union Bay, made rapid furrows across it from
Mandible Cape to Claw Cape, propelled by its enormously powerful
flukes, on which it supported itself, and making its way through the
water at the rate little short of twelve knots an hour. Sometimes also
it approached so near to the island that it could be clearly
distinguished. It was the southern whale, which is completely black,
the head being more depressed than that of the northern whale.
They could also see it throwing up from its air-holes to a great
height, a cloud of vapour, or of water, for, strange as it may appear,
naturalists and whalers are not agreed on this subject. Is it air or
is it water which is thus driven out? It is generally admitted to be
vapour, which, condensing suddenly by contact with the cold air, falls
again as rain.
However, the presence of this mammifer preoccupied the colonists. It
irritated Pencroft especially as he could think of nothing else while
at work. He ended by longing for it, like a child for a thing which it
has been denied. At night he talked about it in his sleep, and
certainly if he had had the means of attacking it, if the sloop had
been in a fit state to put to sea, he would not have hesitated to set
out in pursuit.
But what the colonists could not do for themselves, chance did for
them, and on the 3rd of May, shouts from Neb, who had stationed
himself at the kitchen window, announced that the whale was stranded
on the beach of the island.
Herbert and Gideon Spilett, who were just about to set out hunting,
left their guns, Pencroft threw down his axe, and Harding and Neb
joining their companions, all rushed towards the scene of action.
The stranding had taken place on the beach of Flotsam Point, three
miles from Granite House, and at high tide. It was therefore probable
that the cetacean would not be able to extricate itself easily, at any
rate it was best to hasten, so as to cut off its retreat if necessary.
They ran with pick-axes and iron-tipped poles in their hands, passed
over the Mercy bridge, descended the right bank of the river, along
the beach, and in less than twenty minutes the settlers were close to
the enormous animal, above which flocks of birds already hovered.
"What a monster!" cried Neb.
And the exclamation was natural, for it was a southern whale, eighty
feet long, a giant of the species, probably not weighing less than a
hundred and fifty thousand pounds!
In the meanwhile, the monster thus stranded did not move, nor attempt
by struggling to regain the water whilst the tide was still high.
It was dead, and a harpoon was sticking out of its left side.
"There are whalers in these quarters, then?" said Gideon Spilett
directly.
[Illustration: A VALUABLE PRIZE]
"Oh, Mr Spilett, that doesn't prove anything!" replied Pencroft.
"Whales have been known to go thousands of miles with a harpoon in the
side, and this one might even have been struck in the north of the
Atlantic and come to die in the south of the Pacific, and it would be
nothing astonishing."
Pencroft, having torn the harpoon from the animal's side, read this
inscription on it:--
"'MARIA STELLA,'
"VINEYARD."
"A vessel from the Vineyard! A ship from my country!" he cried. "The
_Maria Stella_! A fine whaler, 'pon my word; I know her well! Oh, my
friends, a vessel from the Vineyard!--a whaler from the Vineyard!"[1]
[1] A port in the State of New York.
And the sailor brandishing the harpoon, repeated, not without emotion,
the name which he loved so well--the name of his birthplace.
But as it could not be expected that the _Maria Stella_ would come to
reclaim the animal harpooned by her, they resolved to begin cutting it
up before decomposition should commence. The birds, who had watched
this rich prey for several days, had determined to take possession of
it without further delay, and it was necessary to drive them off by
firing at them repeatedly.
The whale was a female, and a large quantity of milk was taken from
it, which, according to the opinion of the naturalist Duffenbach,
might pass for cow's milk, and, indeed, it differs from it neither in
taste, colour, nor density.
Pencroft had formerly served on board a whaling-ship, and he could
methodically direct the operation of cutting up--a sufficiently
disagreeable operation lasting three days, but from which the settlers
did not flinch, not even Gideon Spilett, who, as the sailor said,
would end by making a "real good castaway."
The blubber, cut in parallel slices of two feet and a half in
thickness, then divided into pieces which might weigh about a thousand
pounds each, was melted down in large earthen pots brought to the
spot, for they did not wish to taint the environs of Granite House,
and in this fusion it lost nearly a third of its weight.
But there was an immense quantity of it; the tongue alone yielded six
thousand pounds of oil, and the lower lip four thousand. Then, besides
the fat, which would insure for a long time a store of stearine and
glycerine, there were still the bones, for which a use could doubtless
be found, although there were neither umbrellas nor stays used at
Granite House. The upper part of the mouth of the cetacean was,
indeed, provided on both sides with eight hundred horny blades, very
elastic, of a fibrous texture, and fringed at the edge like great
combs, of which the teeth, six feet long, served to retain the
thousands of animalculae, little fish, and molluscs, on which the whale
fed.
The operation finished, to the great satisfaction of the operators,
the remains of the animal were left to the birds, who would soon make
every vestige of it disappear, and their usual daily occupations were
resumed by the inmates of Granite House.
However, before returning to the dockyard, Cyrus Harding conceived the
idea of fabricating certain machines, which greatly excited the
curiosity of his companions. He took a dozen of the whale's bones, cut
them into six equal parts, and sharpened their ends.
"This machine is not my own invention, and it is frequently employed
by the Aleutian hunters in Russian America. You see these bones, my
friends; well, when it freezes, I will bend them, and then wet them
with water till they are entirely covered with ice, which will keep
them bent, and I will strew them on the snow, having previously
covered them with fat. Now, what will happen if a hungry animal
swallows one of these baits? Why, the heat of his stomach will melt
the ice, and the bone, springing straight, will pierce him with its
sharp points."
"Well! I do call that ingenious!" said Pencroft.
"And it will spare the powder and shot," rejoined Cyrus Harding.
"That will be better than traps!" added Neb.
In the meanwhile the boat-building progressed, and towards the end of
the month half the planking was completed. It could already be seen
that her shape was excellent, and that she would sail well.
Pencroft worked with unparalleled ardour, and only a sturdy frame
could have borne such fatigue; but his companions were preparing in
secret a reward for his labours, and on the 31st of May he was to meet
with one of the greatest joy's of his life.
On that day, after dinner, just as he was about to leave the table,
Pencroft felt a hand on his shoulder.
It was the hand of Gideon Spilett, who said,--
"One moment, Master Pencroft, you mustn't sneak off like that! You've
forgotten your dessert."
"Thank you, Mr. Spilett," replied the sailor, "I am going back to my
work."
"Well a cup of coffee, my friend?"
"Nothing more."
"A pipe, then?"
Pencroft jumped up, and his great good-natured face grew pale when he
saw the reporter presenting him with a ready-filled pipe, and Herbert
with a glowing coal.
The sailor endeavoured to speak, but could not get out a word, so,
seizing the pipe, he carried it to his lips, then applying the coal,
he drew five or six great whiffs. A fragrant blue cloud soon arose,
and from its depths a voice was heard repeating excitedly,--
"Tobacco! real tobacco!"
"Yes, Pencroft," returned Cyrus Harding, "and very good tobacco too!"
"O divine Providence! sacred Author of all things!" cried the sailor.
"Nothing more is now wanting to our island."
And Pencroft smoked, and smoked, and smoked.
"And who made this discovery?" he asked at length. "You, Herbert, no
doubt?"
"No, Pencroft, it was Mr. Spilett."
"Mr Spilett!" exclaimed the sailor seizing the reporter, and clasping
him to his breast with such a squeeze that he had never felt anything
like it before.
"Oh, Pencroft," said Spilett, recovering his breath at last, "a truce
for one moment. You must share your gratitude with Herbert, who
recognised the plant, with Cyrus, who prepared it, and with Neb who
took a great deal of trouble to keep our secret."
"Well, my friends, I will repay you some day," replied the sailor.
"Now we are friends for life."
[Illustration: PENCROFT HAS NOTHING LEFT TO WISH FOR]