MONTROSE RIVER
Next morning M. Zermatt's first thought was to scan the eastern
horizon. Behind a light veil of mist, soon to be dispersed, the solar
disk was looming, enlarged by the refraction. A magnificent day was
heralded. There was nothing to indicate any atmospheric disturbance.
For three or four days the barometer had been set fair. The atmosphere
was rendered a little opaque by the dust, unweighted by humidity, which
it held in suspension. Further, the breeze, which was rather fresh,
seemed to be settled in the north-west. The sea would be calm for quite
a couple of miles out. So the pinnace would be able to continue her
voyage along the line of coast in perfect safety.
At six o'clock everybody was on deck and the hawsers were cast off.
With her foresail, mainsail, and jibs all hauled aboard and gathered,
the little vessel cleared the point and took the open sea, where the
wind was more appreciably felt. Half an hour later, with her course set
southwards and Mr. Wolston at the helm, the _Elizabeth_ was following
the meanderings of the coast at a distance of ten cable-lengths, so
that the eye could see its least details from the indentations of the
beach to the top of the rocky cliffs.
As far as could be calculated, it must be from ten to twelve miles from
Unicorn Bay to the valley which had been observed to the southward.
Two or three hours would suffice to accomplish that distance. The
tide, which had been on the flood since sunrise, was setting in that
direction and would probably be slack by the time the _Elizabeth_
reached her destination.
On both sides of the _Elizabeth_ swift companies of magnificent
sturgeons were darting and playing in the water, some of them measuring
seven to eight feet in length. Jack and Ernest were wild to harpoon
them, but M. Zermatt would not allow them to do so. No good purpose
would have been served by delaying the voyage for this sport. Mackerel
and weevers, which could be taken while sailing, were another matter.
So some lines were trailed from the stern and brought up several dozen
of those excellent fish, which, boiled in salt water, would make their
appearance at luncheon at the first stop.
There was no change in the appearance of the coast. It still presented
an unbroken front of limestone or granite, a lofty wall rising from the
sand, pierced with caverns in which the roaring of the sea must have
been appalling when the waves rushed into them, driven before the gales
blowing from the open sea. The impression made upon the mind by this
coast was one of profound gloom.
Yet, as the ship got further south a certain animation became
noticeable, due to the incessant flight of frigate birds, booby birds,
sea-gulls, and albatrosses, whose cries were deafening. Sometimes they
came within gunshot. Jack was itching to shoot, and he might not have
been able to resist his temptation if Hannah had not interceded for the
inoffensive creatures.
"Perhaps Jenny's albatross is among all these others," she suggested.
"What a pity it would be, Jack, if you were to kill that poor creature!"
"Hannah is right," said Ernest.
"As usual," Jack answered, "and I promise not to shoot another
albatross until we have found the one that brought the message from
Burning Rock."
"Would you like me to tell you what I think?" Hannah went on.
"Of course!" Jack replied.
"Well, that we shall see that albatross again some day."
"Naturally, since I shan't have killed it."
About nine o'clock the pinnace was almost abreast of the depression
formed by an abrupt bend of the cliff towards the interior. The ridge
of the coast was becoming lower. Broad mounds, less rugged of aspect,
connected it now with the sandy beach, which was broken by large
protuberances of a blackish hue. There were many reefs, covered at high
tide, in some cases running out several cable-lengths from the shore.
The _Elizabeth_ approached them cautiously. Mr. Wolston leaned over
the bow and observed the water attentively, noting every suspicious
agitation and every change of colour which might indicate the proximity
of a reef.
Suddenly Jack cried:
"Ah, at any rate no one can say that this coast is deserted! There are
people over there, and fine people, too!"
All eyes turned towards the beach and the rocks where Jack's keen eyes
detected numbers of living creatures.
"What do you mean, my boy?" his mother asked. "You see men
there--savages perhaps?"
It was of savages, the fierce Indo-Malay savages, that Mme. Zermatt was
always and quite reasonably, most afraid.
"Come, Jack, answer!" said his father.
"Don't be uneasy! Don't be uneasy!" Jack replied. "I did not say
anything about human beings. These have got two legs, but they have
feathers too."
"Then they are penguins?" Ernest enquired.
"Or auks."
"It is easy to confuse them, Jack," said Ernest, "for those birds are
closely allied in the order of palmipedes."
"Let us say in the goose family, to save any dispute," M. Zermatt
answered; "and goose is the best name for these stupid birds."
"Perhaps that is why they are sometimes mistaken for men," Jack
suggested slyly.
"Wag!" Hannah exclaimed.
"Only from a distance," M. Zermatt added. "And really, just look at
their necks with a ring of white feathers, their small wings hanging
down like two little arms, their upright heads, their black feet,
and the regular lines in which they are drawn up! They look like a
regiment of soldiers in uniform. Do you remember, boys, what a number
of penguins there used to be on the rocks at the mouth of Jackal River?"
"Rather!" said Ernest; "I can still see Jack rushing into the midst of
the foe, with water up to his waist, and hitting out so stoutly that he
knocked over half-a-dozen of the penguins with his stick!"
"Exactly," Jack acknowledged. "And as I was only ten years old at the
time didn't I show promise?"
"You have fulfilled the promise, too," added M. Zermatt with a smile.
"The poor creatures that we ill treated thus evidently made haste to
abandon the beach at Deliverance Bay, and came to take refuge on this
coast."
Whether this was so or not, it was the fact that the auks or penguins
had absolutely deserted the shores of the bay within the first few
months after the settlement at Rock Castle.
Continuing on her way along the line of coast, the _Elizabeth_ passed
by wide stretches where at low water vast sheets of salt deposit must
be left high and dry. There must have been enough to employ a hundred
hands salt-raking, and the future colony would be able to collect there
all the salt it could possibly require.
From the foot of the cliff, which ended here in a sharp angle, a
promontory ran out beneath the water. The pinnace was obliged to sheer
off more than a mile to sea. When she again put in towards the coast,
it was to make for the creek where the valley debouched which had been
seen from the heights above Unicorn Bay.
"A river! There is a river!" cried Jack, perched at the top of the
foremast.
M. Zermatt was examining the shore through a telescope, and this is
what he saw:
On the right hand, the cliff bent sharply and went back along the slope
of the interior. On the left hand, the coast line ended in a cape
at least ten or fifteen miles away. The whole campaign was verdant
with grass lands and woods, rising tier on tier to the limits of the
horizon. Between these two points curved the creek, forming a natural
harbour, screened by curtains of rock from the adverse easterly winds,
and apparently having easily navigable passages.
Across this creek was a calm and limpid river shaded by fine trees.
It appeared to be navigable, and as far as could be judged from this
distance, its course bent towards the south-west.
This was manifestly the spot for the pinnace to put in at, as there
was an excellent anchorage. So her head was turned towards the passage
which gave entrance to it, and, with all sail taken in except the
mainsail and jib, she beat up against the wind, on the starboard tack.
The flood tide, which had still an hour to run, helped her. The sea was
absolutely calm. At lowest ebb perhaps a reef might show here and there
amid the splashing surf.
No precaution that prudence dictated was neglected. M. Zermatt at the
tiller, Mr. Wolston and Ernest posted at the bow, and Jack astride
the cross-bars, all kept their eyes on the passage up the middle of
which the _Elizabeth_ was moving. Mme. Zermatt, with Mrs. Wolston and
her daughter, sat upon the poop. All maintained silence, under the
two-fold influence of curiosity and of vague anxiety in approaching
this new country in which human beings were about to set foot probably
for the first time. The silence was only broken by the murmur of the
water along the hull, mingled with the flapping of the sails which were
spilling the wind, the directions called out by Jack and the cries of
gulls and sea-mews flying wildly towards the rocks surrounding the
creek.
It was eleven o'clock when the anchor was dropped beside a kind of
natural quay on the left of the river mouth, where an easy landing was
available. A little behind, some tall palm trees offered a sufficient
protection from the rays of the sun which had now almost reached the
meridian. After luncheon an organised exploration of the interior could
be arranged.
The mouth of this river appeared to be as deserted as the mouth of
Jackal River had been when the shipwrecked people first came ashore
there. It did not look as if human foot had ever been set there
before. The only difference was that instead of a narrow, winding,
and unnavigable stream, a water-course was here displayed which must
certainly run far back into the middle portion of the island.
Jack jumped ashore the moment the _Elizabeth_ had anchored, and,
hauling on to a hawser made fast to her stern, drew her alongside
of the rocks. This rendered it unnecessary to use the canoe to land
by, and in a few minutes all were upon the beach. After carrying the
provisions up to the shade of the clump of trees, the first business
was the satisfaction of an alarming appetite, sharpened by a voyage of
several hours in the keen air.
But eating did not wholly interfere with the interchange of question
and answer.
"Is it perhaps not a pity that we did not rather anchor on the left
bank of the river?" said Mr. Wolston. "The bank is low on this side,
whereas on the other the buttress of the cliff towers a hundred feet
above it."
"And I should not have had any difficulty in climbing to the top," Jack
declared. "From there at least we should have been able to get a first
view of the country."
"There is nothing easier than to cross the creek in the canoe," M.
Zermatt answered. "But why should we be sorry? On the other bank I can
only see stones and sand as far as the desert which reaches from Cape
East to this bay. On this side, on the contrary, we have vegetation,
trees and shade, and, beyond, opens out the country which we saw from
the sea, and which it will be easy to explore. In my opinion we could
not have chosen better."
"And we do approve of the choice, don't we, Mr. Wolston?" said Betsy.
"Quite, Mme. Zermatt; and we go over to the other bank whenever we
like."
"I should like to add," said Mrs. Wolston, "that we are so very
comfortable where we are----"
"That you would like to stay here!" Jack finished gaily. "Come, that's
settled! Let us abandon Rock Castle, Falconhurst, the Promised Land,
and let us come and found the ultimate capital of New Switzerland here
at the mouth of this magnificent river."
"Jack is off again!" Ernest answered. "But in spite of his joking, it
is clear that the size of this river and the depth of the creek into
which it runs do offer greater advantages for the establishment of a
colony than the mouth of Jackal River does. But we must explore this
region thoroughly, study its resources, and ascertain whether or not it
is frequented by any dangerous animals."
"That is talking like a wise man," said Hannah Wolston.
"As Ernest always talks," his brother retorted.
"In any case," M. Zermatt added, "splendid and rich as this country may
be, we could not abandon the Promised Land."
"Certainly not," said Mme. Zermatt emphatically. "It would break my
heart to leave it altogether."
"I quite understand you, Betsy dear," Mrs. Wolston replied, "and I
would never consent to separate from you in order to live here."
"Well," said Mr. Wolston, "there is no question of doing that, but only
of walking about the immediate neighbourhood after lunch."
The question being stated in terms like that, all were unanimous in
hailing Mr. Wolston's proposal. Yet his wife and daughter and Mme.
Zermatt would have excused themselves from taking part in an expedition
which could not fail to be a tiring one, if after some reflection M.
Zermatt had not said:
"I should not like to think of you alone in this place, even for only
a few hours, and you know, Betsy, that I have never left you at Rock
Castle without putting you in charge of one of the boys. In the event
of danger during our absence, what would become of you? I should not be
easy for a minute. But we can arrange everything; since the river is
navigable, why should we not all go up it together?"
"In the canoe?" Ernest asked.
"No; in the pinnace, which, moreover, I would prefer not to leave
anchored here while we are away."
"Agreed," Betsy replied; "we are all three ready to go with you."
"Will the _Elizabeth_ be able to make way against the stream?" Mr.
Wolston enquired.
"We shall have the current with us," M. Zermatt answered, "if we wait
for the flood tide. The tide will turn soon, and in six hours we shall
be able to take advantage of it."
"Will it not be too late to make a start then?" Mrs. Wolston suggested.
"Well, yes, it would be too late," M. Zermatt replied. "So it seems to
me it would be wiser to finish the day here, spend the night on board,
and get under way with the flood tide at daybreak."
"And until then?" Jack enquired.
"Until then," M. Zermatt answered, "we shall have time to inspect the
creek and the immediate neighbourhood. But, as the heat is very great,
I advise the ladies to await our return at the camp."
"Willingly," said Mrs. Wolston, "provided you do not go very far away."
"It is merely a matter of a walk along the right bank of the river,
from which we will not wander," M. Zermatt promised.
This plan permitted of an investigation of the lower valley being made
before penetrating into the hinterland.
M. Zermatt and Mr. Wolston, with Ernest and Jack, climbed up onto the
bank again, and reached some slightly swelling ground which connected
the water-course with the country on the western side.
This territory presented a very fertile appearance--woods, here and
there, in dense masses; plains carpeted with thick grass, where
thousands of ruminants might have found sustenance; a veritable network
of little streams all running towards the main river; and lastly, like
a barrier on the south-western horizon, the mountain range which had
already been remarked in that direction.
"Talking of that," said M. Zermatt, "I must admit that the range is not
so far away as we supposed when we saw it for the first time from the
heights above the Green Valley. Probably it was a haze that gave it its
bluish tint, and I estimated the distance at more than thirty miles. It
was an optical illusion. Ernest understands that, I expect."
"Quite, Papa; that day the distance looked twice what it really is.
If we estimate the distance of that range from the Green Valley at
eighteen or twenty miles we shall be pretty near the truth, I believe."
"I think so, too," said Mr. Wolston. "But is it actually the same
range?"
"Oh, yes, it is the same," Ernest answered; "I do not think New
Switzerland is large enough to contain another of that size."
"Why not?" Jack asked. "Why should not our island be as large as
Sicily, or Madagascar, or New Zealand, or Australia?"
"And why should it not be a continent?" exclaimed Mr. Wolston, laughing.
"You seem to think that I always exaggerate everything," Jack retorted.
"You do, my boy," said M. Zermatt; "after all, that only means you
are over-imaginative. But just think: if this island were as large
as you suppose, and probably wish, it could hardly have escaped the
observation of navigators."
"Of the old and the new world too," Ernest added. "Its position in
this part of the Indian Ocean is much too valuable, and if it had been
known, you may be quite sure that England, for example----"
"Don't stand upon ceremony, my dear Ernest," said Mr. Wolston
good-humouredly. "We English are born colonisers, and claim a right to
colonise everything we come across."
"And so, to make an end of it," M. Zermatt resumed, "from the day our
island had been discovered it would have figured in the Admiralty
charts and no doubt would have been called New England instead of New
Switzerland."
"Anyhow," said Mr. Wolston, "it will not have lost anything by the
waiting since you, its first occupant, have surrendered it to Great
Britain."
"And since the _Unicorn_ is going to bring it the official certificate
of adoption," added Jack.
It had still to be ascertained whether the range rose in the centre of
the island or at the extreme end of its southern coast.
When this point had been established Ernest would be in a position
to complete his map of New Switzerland. And this natural desire was
justification for Mr. Wolston's suggestion that they should explore
the country as far as the foot of the mountains, and even make the
ascent of these. But this plan could only be carried into effect at the
beginning of the next dry season.
Ernest had taken and recorded with approximate accuracy the bearings
of all the portions of the island that had been visited. The coast
line on the north was about thirty miles in length; on the east it ran
in an almost straight line from Cape East to the mouth of Deliverance
Bay; next came that bay, hollowed out somewhat like a leather bottle,
and joining the rocky coast between Falconhurst beach and the reefs
of False Hope Point; beyond this, to the westward, Nautilus Bay was
scooped out, terminated by Cape Snub-nose, and receiving the waters of
the Eastern River; lastly, in broad, sweeping curves, the vast Pearl
Bay was cut out of the littoral, between the archway and the opposite
promontory, behind which, ten miles out at sea in the south-west, lay
Burning Rock.
Thus the Promised Land, contained between the sea on one side and
Nautilus Bay on the other, and enclosed by a long wall of mountains
extending from the mouth of Deliverance Bay to the innermost point
of Nautilus Bay, was inaccessible except through the defile of Cluse
on its southern boundary. This district of about ten square miles
contained Jackal River, the stream at Falconhurst, Swan Lake, the
dwelling-places of Rock Castle and Falconhurst, and the farmsteads at
Wood Grange, Sugar-cane Grove, and the hermitage at Eberfurt.
The exploration was now carried out along the banks of the
water-course, from which M. Zermatt did not care to move away. This was
quite to Ernest's mind, and he said:
"When we get back from this trip I shall be able to trace the course
of part of this river and of the valley it irrigates. In view of the
fertility of this new territory, it is unquestionable that our island
could support several thousand colonists."
"As many as that?" exclaimed Jack, not attempting to conceal his
vexation at the idea that his "second fatherland" might be so densely
populated some day.
"Further," Ernest went on, "since it is always well for a town to be
built near the mouth of a river, future inhabitants will most likely
decide to settle here beside this creek."
"Well, we won't dispute it with them," M. Zermatt remarked. "Not one of
us could ever make up his mind to leave the Promised Land."
"Especially as Mme. Zermatt would never consent to do so," Mr. Wolston
observed. "She has formally proclaimed that."
"Mamma is right," Jack exclaimed. "And ask all our good servants,
furred and feathered; ask Storm, and Grumbler, and Swift, and Paleface,
and Bull and Arrow, and Nip the Second, the Lightfoot, and Whirlwind,
and Turk, and then ask Brownie and Fawn, who are here present, if they
would ever consent to move into a new house! Give them a vote, and
have a scrutiny, and as they are the majority I know what the popular
decision will be!"
"Be sensible, Jack," M. Zermatt answered. "There is no need for us to
consult any of our dumb brutes."
"Not such brutes as the name might lead you to suppose!" Jack retorted,
running and shouting to excite the two young dogs to wilder frolic.
About six o'clock M. Zermatt and his companions returned to the
encampment, by way of the coast, which was bordered by long beaches
with a background of resinous trees. Dinner was taken on the grass, and
the diners enjoyed a dish of fried gudgeon taken from the fresh water
of the river with the lines which Ernest had got ready for Hannah. This
river appeared to be full of fish, and in the streamlets which flowed
into it higher up there were swarms of crayfish, some dozens of which
they promised to catch before leaving.
After dinner no one evinced any desire to return on board the pinnace,
and it was only the absence of a tent that rendered the wish to sleep
on the shore impracticable. It was a magnificent evening. A light
breeze laden with the fragrance of the country, sweet as the savour
stealing from a bowl of rose-leaves, perfumed and refreshed the entire
atmosphere. After a long day under a tropical sun it was pure joy to
draw this life-giving, life-restoring air deep into the lungs.
There was every guarantee of fine weather. A light haze shaded the
horizon out at sea. The atmospheric dust held in the higher regions of
the air just dimmed the scintillation of the stars. Beneath those stars
the party walked and talked over their plans for the morrow. Then,
about ten o'clock, all went on board the _Elizabeth_ and each and all
made ready to regain their berths except Ernest who was to take the
first watch.
Just as they were going below Mme. Zermatt made a remark:
"There is one thing you have forgotten," said she.
"Forgotten, Betsy?" said M. Zermatt enquiringly.
"Yes: to give a name to this river."
"Quite right," M. Zermatt admitted; "it is an oversight that would have
vexed Ernest in his map-making."
"Well," said Ernest, "there is a name already indicated for it. Let us
call the river Hannah."
"Excellent!" said Jack. "Would you like that, Hannah?"
"Of course I should," the young girl replied, "but I have another name
to suggest, and it deserves the compliment."
"What is it?" Mme. Zermatt asked.
"Our dear Jenny's family name."
Every one agreed, and henceforward Montrose River figured on the map of
New Switzerland.