In a few minutes the three hunters were before a crackling fire. The
captain and the reporter were there. Pencroft looked from one to the
other, his capybara in his hand, without saying a word.
“Well, yes, my brave fellow,” cried the reporter.
“Fire, real fire, which will roast this splendid pig perfectly, and we
will have a feast presently!”
“But who lighted it?” asked Pencroft.
“The sun!”
Gideon Spilett was quite right in his reply. It was the sun which
had furnished the heat which so astonished Pencroft. The sailor could
scarcely believe his eyes, and he was so amazed that he did not think of
questioning the engineer.
“Had you a burning-glass, sir?” asked Herbert of Harding.
“No, my boy,” replied he, “but I made one.”
And he showed the apparatus which served for a burning-glass. It was
simply two glasses which he had taken from his own and the reporter’s
watches. Having filled them with water and rendered their edges adhesive
by means of a little clay, he thus fabricated a regular burning-glass,
which, concentrating the solar rays on some very dry moss, soon caused
it to blaze.
The sailor considered the apparatus; then he gazed at the engineer
without saying a word, only a look plainly expressed his opinion that if
Cyrus Harding was not a magician, he was certainly no ordinary man. At
last speech returned to him, and he cried,--
“Note that, Mr. Spilett, note that down on your paper!”
“It is noted,” replied the reporter.
Then, Neb helping him, the seaman arranged the spit, and the capybara,
properly cleaned, was soon roasting like a suckling-pig before a clear,
crackling fire.
The Chimneys had again become more habitable, not only because the
passages were warmed by the fire, but because the partitions of wood and
mud had been re-established.
It was evident that the engineer and his companions had employed their
day well. Cyrus Harding had almost entirely recovered his strength, and
had proved it by climbing to the upper plateau. From this point his eye,
accustomed to estimate heights and distances, was fixed for a long time
on the cone, the summit of which he wished to reach the next day. The
mountain, situated about six miles to the northwest, appeared to him to
measure 3,500 feet above the level of the sea. Consequently the gaze of
an observer posted on its summit would extend over a radius of at least
fifty miles. Therefore it was probable that Harding could easily solve
the question of “island or continent,” to which he attached so much
importance.
They supped capitally. The flesh of the capybara was declared excellent.
The sargassum and the almonds of the stone-pine completed the repast,
during which the engineer spoke little. He was preoccupied with projects
for the next day.
Once or twice Pencroft gave forth some ideas upon what it would be best
to do; but Cyrus Harding, who was evidently of a methodical mind, only
shook his head without uttering a word.
“To-morrow,” he repeated, “we shall know what we have to depend upon,
and we will act accordingly.”
The meal ended, fresh armfuls of wood were thrown on the fire, and
the inhabitants of the Chimneys, including the faithful Top, were soon
buried in a deep sleep.
No incident disturbed this peaceful night, and the next day, the 29th
of March, fresh and active they awoke, ready to undertake the excursion
which must determine their fate.
All was ready for the start. The remains of the capybara would be enough
to sustain Harding and his companions for at least twenty-four hours.
Besides, they hoped to find more food on the way. As the glasses had
been returned to the watches of the engineer and reporter, Pencroft
burned a little linen to serve as tinder. As to flint, that would not be
wanting in these regions of Plutonic origin. It was half-past seven in
the morning when the explorers, armed with sticks, left the Chimneys.
Following Pencroft’s advice, it appeared best to take the road already
traversed through the forest, and to return by another route. It was
also the most direct way to reach the mountain. They turned the south
angle and followed the left bank of the river, which was abandoned at
the point where it formed an elbow towards the southwest. The path,
already trodden under the evergreen trees, was found, and at nine
o’clock Cyrus Harding and his companions had reached the western border
of the forest. The ground, till then, very little undulated, boggy at
first, dry and sandy afterwards, had a gentle slope, which ascended from
the shore towards the interior of the country. A few very timid animals
were seen under the forest-trees. Top quickly started them, but his
master soon called him back, for the time had not come to commence
hunting; that would be attended to later. The engineer was not a man who
would allow himself to be diverted from his fixed idea. It might even
have been said that he did not observe the country at all, either in
its configuration or in its natural productions, his great aim being
to climb the mountain before him, and therefore straight towards it he
went. At ten o’clock a halt of a few minutes was made. On leaving
the forest, the mountain system of the country appeared before the
explorers. The mountain was composed of two cones; the first, truncated
at a height of about two thousand five hundred feet, was sustained by
buttresses, which appeared to branch out like the talons of an immense
claw set on the ground. Between these were narrow valleys, bristling
with trees, the last clumps of which rose to the top of the lowest cone.
There appeared to be less vegetation on that side of the mountain which
was exposed to the northeast, and deep fissures could be seen which, no
doubt, were watercourses.
On the first cone rested a second, slightly rounded, and placed a little
on one side, like a great round hat cocked over the ear. A Scotchman
would have said, “His bonnet was a thocht ajee.” It appeared formed of
bare earth, here and there pierced by reddish rocks.
They wished to reach the second cone, and proceeding along the ridge of
the spurs seemed to be the best way by which to gain it.
“We are on volcanic ground,” Cyrus Harding had said, and his companions
following him began to ascend by degrees on the back of a spur, which,
by a winding and consequently more accessible path, joined the first
plateau.
The ground had evidently been convulsed by subterranean force. Here and
there stray blocks, numerous debris of basalt and pumice-stone, were met
with. In isolated groups rose fir-trees, which, some hundred feet
lower, at the bottom of the narrow gorges, formed massive shades almost
impenetrable to the sun’s rays.
During the first part of the ascent, Herbert remarked on the footprints
which indicated the recent passage of large animals.
“Perhaps these beasts will not let us pass by willingly,” said Pencroft.
“Well,” replied the reporter, who had already hunted the tiger in
India, and the lion in Africa, “we shall soon learn how successfully to
encounter them. But in the meantime we must be upon our guard!”
They ascended but slowly.
The distance, increased by detours and obstacles which could not be
surmounted directly, was long. Sometimes, too, the ground suddenly fell,
and they found themselves on the edge of a deep chasm which they had to
go round. Thus, in retracing their steps so as to find some practicable
path, much time was employed and fatigue undergone for nothing. At
twelve o’clock, when the small band of adventurers halted for breakfast
at the foot of a large group of firs, near a little stream which fell in
cascades, they found themselves still half way from the first plateau,
which most probably they would not reach till nightfall. From this
point the view of the sea was much extended, but on the right the high
promontory prevented their seeing whether there was land beyond it. On
the left, the sight extended several miles to the north; but, on the
northwest, at the point occupied by the explorers, it was cut short
by the ridge of a fantastically-shaped spur, which formed a powerful
support of the central cone.
At one o’clock the ascent was continued. They slanted more towards the
southwest and again entered among thick bushes. There under the shade
of the trees fluttered several couples of gallinaceae belonging to the
pheasant species. They were tragopans, ornamented by a pendant skin
which hangs over their throats, and by two small, round horns, planted
behind the eyes. Among these birds, which were about the size of a fowl,
the female was uniformly brown, while the male was gorgeous in his
red plumage, decorated with white spots. Gideon Spilett, with a stone
cleverly and vigorously thrown, killed one of these tragopans, on which
Pencroft, made hungry by the fresh air, had cast greedy eyes.
After leaving the region of bushes, the party, assisted by resting on
each other’s shoulders, climbed for about a hundred feet up a steep
acclivity and reached a level place, with very few trees, where the soil
appeared volcanic. It was necessary to ascend by zigzags to make
the slope more easy, for it was very steep, and the footing being
exceedingly precarious required the greatest caution. Neb and Herbert
took the lead, Pencroft the rear, the captain and the reporter between
them. The animals which frequented these heights--and there were
numerous traces of them--must necessarily belong to those races of sure
foot and supple spine, chamois or goat. Several were seen, but this
was not the name Pencroft gave them, for all of a sudden--“Sheep!” he
shouted.
All stopped about fifty feet from half-a-dozen animals of a large size,
with strong horns bent back and flattened towards the point, with a
woolly fleece, hidden under long silky hair of a tawny color.
They were not ordinary sheep, but a species usually found in the
mountainous regions of the temperate zone, to which Herbert gave the
name of the musmon.
“Have they legs and chops?” asked the sailor.
“Yes,” replied Herbert.
“Well, then, they are sheep!” said Pencroft.
The animals, motionless among the blocks of basalt, gazed with an
astonished eye, as if they saw human bipeds for the first time. Then
their fears suddenly aroused, they disappeared, bounding over the rocks.
“Good-bye, till we meet again,” cried Pencroft, as he watched them, in
such a comical tone that Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Neb
could not help laughing.
The ascent was continued. Here and there were traces of lava. Sulphur
springs sometimes stopped their way, and they had to go round them. In
some places the sulphur had formed crystals among other substances, such
as whitish cinders made of an infinity of little feldspar crystals.
In approaching the first plateau formed by the truncating of the lower
cone, the difficulties of the ascent were very great. Towards four
o’clock the extreme zone of the trees had been passed. There only
remained here and there a few twisted, stunted pines, which must have
had a hard life in resisting at this altitude the high winds from the
open sea. Happily for the engineer and his companions the weather was
beautiful, the atmosphere tranquil; for a high breeze at an elevation of
three thousand feet would have hindered their proceedings. The purity
of the sky at the zenith was felt through the transparent air. A perfect
calm reigned around them. They could not see the sun, then hid by the
vast screen of the upper cone, which masked the half-horizon of the
west, and whose enormous shadow stretching to the shore increased as
the radiant luminary sank in its diurnal course. Vapor--mist rather than
clouds--began to appear in the east, and assume all the prismatic colors
under the influence of the solar rays.
Five hundred feet only separated the explorers from the plateau, which
they wished to reach so as to establish there an encampment for the
night, but these five hundred feet were increased to more than two miles
by the zigzags which they had to describe. The soil, as it were, slid
under their feet.
The slope often presented such an angle that they slipped when the
stones worn by the air did not give a sufficient support. Evening
came on by degrees, and it was almost night when Cyrus Harding and his
companions, much fatigued by an ascent of seven hours, arrived at
the plateau of the first cone. It was then necessary to prepare an
encampment, and to restore their strength by eating first and sleeping
afterwards. This second stage of the mountain rose on a base of rocks,
among which it would be easy to find a retreat. Fuel was not abundant.
However, a fire could be made by means of the moss and dry brushwood,
which covered certain parts of the plateau. While the sailor was
preparing his hearth with stones which he put to this use, Neb and
Herbert occupied themselves with getting a supply of fuel. They soon
returned with a load of brushwood. The steel was struck, the burnt linen
caught the sparks of flint, and, under Neb’s breath, a crackling fire
showed itself in a few minutes under the shelter of the rocks. Their
object in lighting a fire was only to enable them to withstand the cold
temperature of the night, as it was not employed in cooking the bird,
which Neb kept for the next day. The remains of the capybara and
some dozens of the stone-pine almonds formed their supper. It was not
half-past six when all was finished.
Cyrus Harding then thought of exploring in the half-light the large
circular layer which supported the upper cone of the mountain. Before
taking any rest, he wished to know if it was possible to get round the
base of the cone in the case of its sides being too steep and its summit
being inaccessible. This question preoccupied him, for it was possible
that from the way the hat inclined, that is to say, towards the north,
the plateau was not practicable. Also, if the summit of the mountain
could not be reached on one side, and if, on the other, they could not
get round the base of the cone, it would be impossible to survey the
western part of the country, and their object in making the ascent would
in part be altogether unattained.
The engineer, accordingly, regardless of fatigue, leaving Pencroft and
Neb to arrange the beds, and Gideon Spilett to note the incidents of the
day, began to follow the edge of the plateau, going towards the north.
Herbert accompanied him.
The night was beautiful and still, the darkness was not yet deep. Cyrus
Harding and the boy walked near each other, without speaking. In
some places the plateau opened before them, and they passed without
hindrance. In others, obstructed by rocks, there was only a narrow path,
in which two persons could not walk abreast. After a walk of twenty
minutes, Cyrus Harding and Herbert were obliged to stop. From this point
the slope of the two cones became one. No shoulder here separated the
two parts of the mountain. The slope, being inclined almost seventy
degrees, the path became impracticable.
But if the engineer and the boy were obliged to give up thoughts of
following a circular direction, in return an opportunity was given for
ascending the cone.
In fact, before them opened a deep hollow. It was the rugged mouth
of the crater, by which the eruptive liquid matter had escaped at
the periods when the volcano was still in activity. Hardened lava and
crusted scoria formed a sort of natural staircase of large steps, which
would greatly facilitate the ascent to the summit of the mountain.
Harding took all this in at a glance, and without hesitating, followed
by the lad, he entered the enormous chasm in the midst of an increasing
obscurity.
There was still a height of a thousand feet to overcome. Would the
interior acclivities of the crater be practicable? It would soon be
seen. The persevering engineer resolved to continue his ascent until
he was stopped. Happily these acclivities wound up the interior of the
volcano and favored their ascent.
As to the volcano itself, it could not be doubted that it was completely
extinct. No smoke escaped from its sides; not a flame could be seen in
the dark hollows; not a roar, not a mutter, no trembling even issued
from this black well, which perhaps reached far into the bowels of the
earth. The atmosphere inside the crater was filled with no sulphurous
vapor. It was more than the sleep of a volcano; it was its complete
extinction. Cyrus Harding’s attempt would succeed.
Little by little, Herbert and he climbing up the sides of the interior,
saw the crater widen above their heads. The radius of this circular
portion of the sky, framed by the edge of the cone, increased obviously.
At each step, as it were, that the explorers made, fresh stars entered
the field of their vision. The magnificent constellations of the
southern sky shone resplendently. At the zenith glittered the splendid
Antares in the Scorpion, and not far was Alpha Centauri, which is
believed to be the nearest star to the terrestrial globe. Then, as the
crater widened, appeared Fomalhaut of the Fish, the Southern Triangle,
and lastly, nearly at the Antarctic Pole, the glittering Southern Cross,
which replaces the Polar Star of the Northern Hemisphere.
It was nearly eight o’clock when Cyrus Harding and Herbert set foot on
the highest ridge of the mountain at the summit of the cone.
It was then perfectly dark, and their gaze could not extend over a
radius of two miles. Did the sea surround this unknown land, or was it
connected in the west with some continent of the Pacific? It could not
yet be made out. Towards the west, a cloudy belt, clearly visible at the
horizon, increased the gloom, and the eye could not discover if the sky
and water were blended together in the same circular line.
But at one point of the horizon a vague light suddenly appeared, which
descended slowly in proportion as the cloud mounted to the zenith.
It was the slender crescent moon, already almost disappearing; but its
light was sufficient to show clearly the horizontal line, then detached
from the cloud, and the engineer could see its reflection trembling for
an instant on a liquid surface. Cyrus Harding seized the lad’s hand, and
in a grave voice,--
“An island!” said he, at the moment when the lunar crescent disappeared
beneath the waves.