The stranger, however, had seen nothing of his new dwelling, and he

had allowed the settlers to work there without him, while he occupied

himself on the plateau, wishing, doubtless, to put the finishing stroke

to his work. Indeed, thanks to him, all the ground was dug up and ready

to be sowed when the time came.

It was on the 20th of December that all the arrangements at the corral

were completed. The engineer announced to the stranger that his dwelling

was ready to receive him, and the latter replied that he would go and

sleep there that very evening.

On this evening the colonists were gathered in the diningroom of Granite

House. It was then eight o’clock, the hour at which their companion was

to leave them. Not wishing to trouble him by their presence, and thus

imposing on him the necessity of saying farewells which might perhaps be

painful to him, they had left him alone and ascended to Granite House.

Now, they had been talking in the room for a few minutes, when a light

knock was heard at the door. Almost immediately the stranger entered,

and without any preamble,--

“Gentlemen,” said he, “before I leave you, it is right that you should

know my history. I will tell it you.”

These simple words profoundly impressed Cyrus Harding and his

companions. The engineer rose.

“We ask you nothing, my friend,” said he; “it is your right to be

silent.”

“It is my duty to speak.”

“Sit down, then.”

“No, I will stand.”

“We are ready to hear you,” replied Harding.

The stranger remained standing in a corner of the room, a little in the

shade. He was bareheaded, his arms folded across his chest, and it

was in this posture that in a hoarse voice, speaking like some one

who obliges himself to speak, he gave the following recital, which his

auditors did not once interrupt:--

“On the 20th of December, 1854, a steam-yacht, belonging to a Scotch

nobleman, Lord Glenarvan, anchored off Cape Bernouilli, on the western

coast of Australia, in the thirty-seventh parallel. On board this yacht

were Lord Glenarvan and his wife, a major in the English army, a French

geographer, a young girl, and a young boy. These two last were the

children of Captain Grant, whose ship, the ‘Britannia,’ had been lost,

crew and cargo, a year before. The ‘Duncan’ was commanded by Captain

John Mangles, and manned by a crew of fifteen men.

“This is the reason the yacht at this time lay off the coast of

Australia. Six months before, a bottle, enclosing a document written in

English, German, and French, had been found in the Irish Sea, and picked

up by the ‘Duncan.’ This document stated in substance that there still

existed three survivors from the wreck of the ‘Britannia,’ that these

survivors were Captain Grant and two of his men, and that they had found

refuge on some land, of which the document gave the latitude, but of

which the longitude, effaced by the sea, was no longer legible.

“This latitude was 37deg 11’ south; therefore, the longitude being

unknown, if they followed the thirty-seventh parallel over continents

and seas, they would be certain to reach the spot inhabited by Captain

Grant and his two companions. The English Admiralty having hesitated to

undertake this search, Lord Glenarvan resolved to attempt everything to

find the captain. He communicated with Mary and Robert Grant, who joined

him. The ‘Duncan’ yacht was equipped for the distant voyage, in which

the nobleman’s family and the captain’s children wished to take part,

and the ‘Duncan,’ leaving Glasgow, proceeded towards the Atlantic,

passed through the Straits of Magellan, and ascended the Pacific as

far as Patagonia, where, according to a previous interpretation of the

document, they supposed that Captain Grant was a prisoner among the

Indians.

“The ‘Duncan’ disembarked her passengers on the western coast of

Patagonia, and sailed to pick them up again on the eastern coast at

Cape Corrientes. Lord Glenarvan traversed Patagonia, following the

thirty-seventh parallel, and having found no trace of the captain, he

re-embarked on the 13th of November, so as to pursue his search through

the Ocean.

“After having unsuccessfully visited the islands of Tristan d’Acunha and

Amsterdam, situated in her course, the ‘Duncan,’ as I have said, arrived

at Cape Bernouilli, on the Australian coast, on the 20th of December,

1854.

“It was Lord Glenarvan’s intention to traverse Australia as he had

traversed America, and he disembarked. A few miles from the coast was

established a farm, belonging to an Irishman, who offered hospitality to

the travelers. Lord Glenarvan made known to the Irishman the cause

which had brought him to these parts, and asked if he knew whether a

three-masted English vessel, the ‘Britannia,’ had been lost less than

two years before on the west coast of Australia.

“The Irishman had never heard of this wreck, but, to the great surprise

of the bystanders, one of his servants came forward and said,--

“‘My lord, praise and thank God! If Captain Grant is still living, he is

living on the Australian shores.’

“‘Who are you?’ asked Lord Glenarvan.

“‘A Scotchman like yourself, my lord,’ replied the man; ‘I am one of

Captain Grant’s crew--one of the castaways of the “Britannia.’”

“This man was called Ayrton. He was, in fact, the boatswain’s mate of

the ‘Britannia,’ as his papers showed. But, separated from Captain Grant

at the moment when the ship struck upon the rocks, he had till then

believed that the captain with all his crew had perished, and that he,

Ayrton, was the sole survivor of the ‘Britannia.’

“‘Only,’ he added, ‘it was not on the west coast, but on the east coast

of Australia that the vessel was lost, and if Captain Grant is still

living, as his document indicates, he is a prisoner among the natives,

and it is on the other coast that he must be looked for.’

“This man spoke in a frank voice and with a confident look; his words

could not be doubted. The Irishman, in whose service he had been for

more than a year, answered for his trustworthiness. Lord Glenarvan,

therefore, believed in the fidelity of this man and, by his advice,

resolved to cross Australia, following the thirty-seventh parallel. Lord

Glenarvan, his wife, the two children, the major, the Frenchman, Captain

Mangles, and a few sailors composed the little band under the command

of Ayrton, while the ‘Duncan,’ under charge of the mate, Tom Austin,

proceeded to Melbourne, there to await Lord Glenarvan’s instructions.

“They set out on the 23rd of December, 1854.

“It is time to say that Ayrton was a traitor. He was, indeed, the

boatswain’s mate of the ‘Britannia,’ but, after some dispute with his

captain, he endeavored to incite the crew to mutiny and seize the ship,

and Captain Grant had landed him, on the 8th of April, 1852, on the

west coast of Australia, and then sailed, leaving him there, as was only

just.

“Therefore this wretched man knew nothing of the wreck of the

‘Britannia’; he had just heard of it from Glenarvan’s account. Since his

abandonment, he had become, under the name of Ben Joyce, the leader of

the escaped convicts; and if he boldly maintained that the wreck had

taken place on the east coast, and led Lord Glenarvan to proceed in that

direction, it was that he hoped to separate him from his ship, seize the

‘Duncan,’ and make the yacht a pirate in the Pacific.”

Here the stranger stopped for a moment. His voice trembled, but he

continued,--

“The expedition set out and proceeded across Australia. It was

inevitably unfortunate, since Ayrton, or Ben Joyce, as he may be

called, guided it, sometimes preceded, sometimes followed by his band of

convicts, who had been told what they had to do.

“Meanwhile, the ‘Duncan’ had been sent to Melbourne for repairs. It was

necessary, then, to get Lord Glenarvan to order her to leave Melbourne

and go to the east coast of Australia, where it would be easy to seize

her. After having led the expedition near enough to the coast, in the

midst of vast forests with no resources, Ayrton obtained a letter, which

he was charged to carry to the mate of the ‘Duncan’--a letter which

ordered the yacht to repair immediately to the east coast, to Twofold

Bay, that is to say a few days’ journey from the place where the

expedition had stopped. It was there that Ayrton had agreed to meet his

accomplices, and two days after gaining possession of the letter, he

arrived at Melbourne.

“So far the villain had succeeded in his wicked design. He would be able

to take the ‘Duncan’ into Twofold Bay, where it would be easy for the

convicts to seize her, and her crew massacred, Ben Joyce would become

master of the seas. But it pleased God to prevent the accomplishment of

these terrible projects.

“Ayrton, arrived at Melbourne, delivered the letter to the mate, Tom

Austin, who read it and immediately set sail, but judge of Ayrton’s rage

and disappointment, when the next day he found that the mate was taking

the vessel, not to the east coast of Australia, to Twofold Bay, but to

the east coast of New Zealand. He wished to stop him, but Austin showed

him the letter!... And indeed, by a providential error of the French

geographer, who had written the letter, the east coast of New Zealand

was mentioned as the place of destination.

“All Ayrton’s plans were frustrated! He became outrageous. They put him

in irons. He was then taken to the coast of New Zealand, not knowing

what would become of his accomplices, or what would become of Lord

Glenarvan.

“The ‘Duncan’ cruised about on this coast until the 3rd of March. On

that day Ayrton heard the report of guns. The guns on the ‘Duncan’ were

being fired, and soon Lord Glenarvan and his companions came on board.

“This is what had happened.

“After a thousand hardships, a thousand dangers, Lord Glenarvan had

accomplished his journey, and arrived on the east coast of Australia, at

Twofold Bay. ‘No “Duncan!”’ He telegraphed to Melbourne. They answered,

“Duncan” sailed on the 18th instant. Destination unknown.’

“Lord Glenarvan could only arrive at one conclusion; that his honest

yacht had fallen into the hands of Ben Joyce, and had become a pirate

vessel!

“However, Lord Glenarvan would not give up. He was a bold and generous

man. He embarked in a merchant vessel, sailed to the west coast of New

Zealand, traversed it along the thirty-seventh parallel, without

finding any trace of Captain Grant; but on the other side, to his

great surprise, and by the will of Heaven, he found the ‘Duncan,’ under

command of the mate, who had been waiting for him for five weeks!

“This was on the 3rd of March, 1855. Lord Glenarvan was now on board the

‘Duncan,’ but Ayrton was there also. He appeared before the nobleman,

who wished to extract from him all that the villain knew about Captain

Grant. Ayrton refused to speak. Lord Glenarvan then told him, that at

the first port they put into, he would be delivered up to the English

authorities. Ayrton remained mute.

“The ‘Duncan’ continued her voyage along the thirty-seventh parallel.

In the meanwhile, Lady Glenarvan undertook to vanquish the resistance of

the ruffian.

“At last, her influence prevailed, and Ayrton, in exchange for what he

could tell, proposed that Lord Glenarvan should leave him on some island

in the Pacific, instead of giving him up to the English authorities.

Lord Glenarvan, resolving to do anything to obtain information about

Captain Grant, consented.

“Ayrton then related all his life, and it was certain that he knew

nothing from the day on which Captain Grant had landed him on the

Australian coast.

“Nevertheless, Lord Glenarvan kept the promise which he had given. The

‘Duncan’ continued her voyage and arrived at Tabor Island. It was there

that Ayrton was to be landed, and it was there also that, by a

veritable miracle, they found Captain Grant and two men, exactly on the

thirty-seventh parallel.

“The convict, then, went to take their place on this desert islet, and

at the moment he left the yacht these words were pronounced by Lord

Glenarvan:--

“‘Here, Ayrton, you will be far from any land, and without any possible

communication with your fellow-creatures. You cannot escape from this

islet on which the ‘Duncan’ leaves you. You will be alone, under the eye

of a God who reads the depths of the heart, but you will be neither

lost nor forgotten, as was Captain Grant. Unworthy as you are to be

remembered by men, men will remember you. I know where you are Ayrton,

and I know where to find you. I will never forget it!

“And the ‘Duncan,’ making sail, soon disappeared. This was 18th of

March, 1855.

(The events which have just been briefly related are taken

from a work which some of our readers have no doubt read,

and which is entitled, “Captain Grant’s children.” They will

remark on this occasion, as well as later, some discrepancy

in the dates; but later again, they will understand why the

real dates were not at first given.)

“Ayrton was alone, but he had no want of either ammunition, weapons,

tools, or seeds.

“At his, the convict’s disposal, was the house built by honest Captain

Grant. He had only to live and expiate in solitude the crimes which he

had committed.

“Gentlemen, he repented, he was ashamed of his crimes and was very

miserable! He said to himself, that if men came some day to take

him from that islet, he must be worthy to return among them! How he

suffered, that wretched man! How he labored to recover himself by work!

How he prayed to be reformed by prayer! For two years, three years, this

went on, but Ayrton, humbled by solitude, always looking for some ship

to appear on the horizon, asking himself if the time of expiation would

soon be complete, suffered as none other suffered! Oh! how dreadful was

this solitude, to a heart tormented by remorse!

“But doubtless Heaven had not sufficiently punished this unhappy man,

for he felt that he was gradually becoming a savage! He felt that

brutishness was gradually gaining on him!

“He could not say if it was after two or three years of solitude, but at

last he became the miserable creature you found!

“I have no need to tell you, gentlemen, that Ayrton, Ben Joyce, and I,

are the same.”

Cyrus Harding and his companions rose at the end of this account. It

is impossible to say how much they were moved! What misery, grief, and

despair lay revealed before them!

“Ayrton,” said Harding, rising, “you have been a great criminal, but

Heaven must certainly think that you have expiated your crimes! That

has been proved by your having been brought again among your

fellow-creatures. Ayrton, you are forgiven! And now you will be our

companion?”

Ayrton drew back.

“Here is my hand!” said the engineer.

Ayrton grasped the hand which Harding extended to him, and great tears

fell from his eyes.

“Will you live with us?” asked Cyrus Harding.

“Captain Harding, leave me some time longer,” replied Ayrton, “leave me

alone in the hut in the corral!”

“As you like, Ayrton,” answered Cyrus Harding. Ayrton was going to

withdraw, when the engineer addressed one more question to him:--

“One word more, my friend. Since it was your intention to live alone,

why did you throw into the sea the document which put us on your track?”

“A document?” repeated Ayrton, who did not appear to know what he meant.

“Yes, the document which we found enclosed in a bottle, giving us the

exact position of Tabor Island!”

Ayrton passed his hand over his brow, then after having thought, “I

never threw any document into the sea!” he answered.

“Never?” exclaimed Pencroft.

“Never!”

And Ayrton, bowing, reached the door and departed.

Chapter 18

“Poor man!” said Herbert, who had rushed to the door, but returned,

having seen Ayrton slide down the rope on the lift and disappear in the

darkness.

“He will come back,” said Cyrus Harding.

“Come, now, captain,” exclaimed Pencroft, “what does that mean? What!

wasn’t it Ayrton who threw that bottle into the sea? Who was it then?”

Certainly, if ever a question was necessary to be made, it was that one!

“It was he,” answered Neb, “only the unhappy man was half-mad.”

“Yes!” said Herbert, “and he was no longer conscious of what he was

doing.”

“It can only be explained in that way, my friends,” replied Harding

quickly, “and I understand now how Ayrton was able to point out exactly

the situation of Tabor Island, since the events which had preceded his

being left on the island had made it known to him.”

“However,” observed Pencroft, “if he was not yet a brute when he wrote

that document, and if he threw it into the sea seven or eight years ago,

how is it that the paper has not been injured by damp?”

“That proves,” answered Cyrus Harding, “that Ayrton was deprived of

intelligence at a more recent time than he thinks.”

“Of course it must be so,” replied Pencroft, “without that the fact

would be unaccountable.”

“Unaccountable indeed,” answered the engineer, who did not appear

desirous to prolong the conversation.

“But has Ayrton told the truth?” asked the sailor.

“Yes,” replied the reporter. “The story which he has told is true in

every point. I remember quite well the account in the newspapers of the

yacht expedition undertaken by Lord Glenarvan, and its result.”

“Ayrton has told the truth,” added Harding. “Do not doubt it, Pencroft,

for it was painful to him. People tell the truth when they accuse

themselves like that!”

The next day--the 21st of December--the colonists descended to the

beach, and having climbed the plateau they found nothing of Ayrton. He

had reached his house in the corral during the night and the settlers

judged it best not to agitate him by their presence. Time would

doubtless perform what sympathy had been unable to accomplish.

Herbert, Pencroft, and Neb resumed their ordinary occupations. On this

day the same work brought Harding and the reporter to the workshop at

the Chimneys.

“Do you know, my dear Cyrus,” said Gideon Spilett, “that the explanation

you gave yesterday on the subject of the bottle has not satisfied me at

all! How can it be supposed that the unfortunate man was able to write

that document and throw the bottle into the sea without having the

slightest recollection of it?”

“Nor was it he who threw it in, my dear Spilett.”

“You think then--”

“I think nothing, I know nothing!” interrupted Cyrus Harding. “I am

content to rank this incident among those which I have not been able to

explain to this day!”

“Indeed, Cyrus,” said Spilett, “these things are incredible! Your

rescue, the case stranded on the sand, Top’s adventure, and lastly this

bottle... Shall we never have the answer to these enigmas?”

“Yes!” replied the engineer quickly, “yes, even if I have to penetrate

into the bowels of this island!”

“Chance will perhaps give us the key to this mystery!”

“Chance! Spilett! I do not believe in chance, any more than I believe in

mysteries in this world. There is a reason for everything unaccountable

which has happened here, and that reason I shall discover. But in the

meantime we must work and observe.”

The month of January arrived. The year 1867 commenced. The summer

occupations were assiduously continued. During the days which followed,

Herbert and Spilett having gone in the direction of the corral,

ascertained that Ayrton had taken possession of the habitation which

had been prepared for him. He busied himself with the numerous flock

confided to his care, and spared his companions the trouble of coming

every two or three days to visit the corral. Nevertheless, in order not

to leave Ayrton in solitude for too long a time, the settlers often paid

him a visit.

It was not unimportant either, in consequence of some suspicions

entertained by the engineer and Gideon Spilett, that this part of

the island should be subject to a surveillance of some sort, and that

Ayrton, if any incident occurred unexpectedly, should not neglect to

inform the inhabitants of Granite House of it.

Nevertheless it might happen that something would occur which it would

be necessary to bring rapidly to the engineer’s knowledge. Independently

of facts bearing on the mystery of Lincoln Island, many others

might happen, which would call for the prompt interference of the

colonists,--such as the sighting of a vessel, a wreck on the western

coast, the possible arrival of pirates, etc.

Therefore Cyrus Harding resolved to put the corral in instantaneous

communication with Granite House.

It was on the 10th of January that he made known his project to his

companions.

“Why! how are you going to manage that, captain?” asked Pencroft. “Do

you by chance happen to think of establishing a telegraph?”

“Exactly so,” answered the engineer.

“Electric?” cried Herbert.

“Electric,” replied Cyrus Harding. “We have all the necessary materials

for making a battery, and the most difficult thing will be to stretch

the wires, but by means of a drawplate I think we shall manage it.”

“Well, after that,” returned the sailor, “I shall never despair of

seeing ourselves some day rolling along on a railway!”

They then set to work, beginning with the most difficult thing, for, if

they failed in that, it would be useless to manufacture the battery and

other accessories.

The iron of Lincoln Island, as has been said, was of excellent quality,

and consequently very fit for being drawn out. Harding commenced by

manufacturing a drawplate, that is to say, a plate of steel, pierced

with conical holes of different sizes, which would successively bring

the wire to the wished-for tenacity. This piece of steel, after having

been tempered, was fixed in as firm a way as possible in a solid

framework planted in the ground, only a few feet from the great fall,

the motive power of which the engineer intended to utilize. In fact as

the fulling-mill was there, although not then in use, its beam moved

with extreme power would serve to stretch out the wire by rolling it

round itself. It was a delicate operation, and required much care. The

iron, prepared previously in long thin rods, the ends of which were

sharpened with the file, having been introduced into the largest hole of

the drawplate, was drawn out by the beam which wound it round itself,

to a length of twenty-five or thirty feet, then unrolled, and the same

operation was performed successively through the holes of a less size.

Finally, the engineer obtained wires from forty to fifty feet long,

which could be easily fastened together and stretched over the distance

of five miles, which separated the corral from the bounds of Granite

House.

It did not take more than a few days to perform this work, and indeed

as soon as the machine had been commenced, Cyrus Harding left his

companions to follow the trade of wiredrawers, and occupied himself with

manufacturing his battery.

It was necessary to obtain a battery with a constant current. It is

known that the elements of modern batteries are generally composed of

retort coal, zinc, and copper. Copper was absolutely wanting to the

engineer, who, notwithstanding all his researches, had never been able

to find any trace of it in Lincoln Island, and was therefore obliged to

do without it. Retort coal, that is to say, the hard graphite which

is found in the retorts of gas manufactories, after the coal has

been dehydrogenized, could have been obtained, but it would have been

necessary to establish a special apparatus, involving great labor. As

to zinc, it may be remembered that the case found at Flotsam Point was

lined with this metal, which could not be better utilized than for this

purpose.

Cyrus Harding, after mature consideration, decided to manufacture a

very simple battery, resembling as nearly as possible that invented

by Becquerel in 1820, and in which zinc only is employed. The other

substances, azotic acid and potash, were all at his disposal.

The way in which the battery was composed was as follows, and the

results were to be attained by the reaction of acid and potash on each

other. A number of glass bottles were made and filled with azotic acid.

The engineer corked them by means of a stopper through which passed a

glass tube, bored at its lower extremity, and intended to be plunged

into the acid by means of a clay stopper secured by a rag. Into this

tube, through its upper extremity, he poured a solution of potash,

previously obtained by burning and reducing to ashes various plants,

and in this way the acid and potash could act on each other through the

clay.

Cyrus Harding then took two slips of zinc, one of which was plunged

into azotic acid, the other into a solution of potash. A current was

immediately produced, which was transmitted from the slip of zinc in the

bottle to that in the tube, and the two slips having been connected by a

metallic wire the slip in the tube became the positive pole, and that in

the bottle the negative pole of the apparatus. Each bottle, therefore,

produced as many currents as united would be sufficient to produce all

the phenomena of the electric telegraph. Such was the ingenious and very

simple apparatus constructed by Cyrus Harding, an apparatus which would

allow them to establish a telegraphic communication between Granite

House and the corral.

On the 6th of February was commenced the planting along the road to

the corral, of posts furnished with glass insulators, and intended to

support the wire. A few days after, the wire was extended, ready to

produce the electric current at a rate of twenty thousand miles a

second.

Two batteries had been manufactured, one for Granite House, the other

for the corral; for if it was necessary the corral should be able to

communicate with Granite House it might also be useful that Granite

House should be able to communicate with the corral.

As to the receiver and manipulator, they were very simple. At the two

stations the wire was wound round a magnet, that is to say, round a

piece of soft iron surrounded with a wire. The communication was thus

established between the two poles; the current, starting from the

positive pole, traversed the wire, passed through the magnet which was

temporarily magnetized, and returned through the earth to the negative

pole. If the current was interrupted, the magnet immediately became

unmagnetized. It was sufficient to place a plate of soft iron before the

magnet, which, attracted during the passage of the current, would fall

back when the current was interrupted. This movement of the plate thus

obtained, Harding could easily fasten to it a needle arranged on a dial,

bearing the letters of the alphabet, and in this way communicate from

one station to the other.

All was completely arranged by the 12th of February. On this day,

Harding, having sent the current through the wire, asked if all

was going on well at the corral, and received in a few moments a

satisfactory reply from Ayrton. Pencroft was wild with joy, and every

morning and evening he sent a telegram to the corral, which always

received an answer.

This mode of communication presented two very real advantages: firstly,

because it enabled them to ascertain that Ayrton was at the corral; and

secondly, that he was thus not left completely isolated. Besides, Cyrus

Harding never allowed a week to pass without going to see him, and

Ayrton came from time to time to Granite House, where he always found a

cordial welcome.

The fine season passed away in the midst of the usual work. The

resources of the colony, particularly in vegetables and corn, increased

from day to day, and the plants brought from Tabor Island had succeeded

perfectly.

The plateau of Prospect Heights presented an encouraging aspect. The

fourth harvest had been admirable and it may be supposed that no one

thought of counting whether the four hundred thousand millions of grains

duly appeared in the crop. However, Pencroft had thought of doing so,

but Cyrus Harding having told him that even if he managed to count three

hundred grains a minute, or nine thousand an hour, it would take him

nearly five thousand five-hundred years to finish his task, the honest

sailor considered it best to give up the idea.

The weather was splendid, the temperature very warm in the day time, but

in the evening the sea-breezes tempered the heat of the atmosphere and

procured cool nights for the inhabitants of Granite House. There were,

however, a few storms, which, although they were not of long duration,

swept over Lincoln Island with extraordinary fury. The lightning blazed

and the thunder continued to roll for some hours.

At this period the little colony was extremely prosperous.

The tenants of the poultry-yard swarmed, and they lived on the surplus,

but it became necessary to reduce the population to a more moderate

number. The pigs had already produced young, and it may be understood

that their care for these animals absorbed a great part of Neb and

Pencroft’s time. The onagers, who had two pretty colts, were most often

mounted by Gideon Spilett and Herbert, who had become an excellent rider

under the reporter’s instruction, and they also harnessed them to the

cart either for carrying wood and coal to Granite House, or different

mineral productions required by the engineer.

Several expeditions were made about this time into the depths of the Far

West Forests. The explorers could venture there without having anything

to fear from the heat, for the sun’s rays scarcely penetrated through

the thick foliage spreading above their heads. They thus visited all the

left bank of the Mercy, along which ran the road from the corral to the

mouth of Falls River.

But in these excursions the settlers took care to be well armed, for

they met with savage wild boars, with which they often had a tussle.

They also, during this season, made fierce war against the jaguars.

Gideon Spilett had vowed a special hatred against them, and his pupil

Herbert seconded him well. Armed as they were, they no longer feared

to meet one of those beasts. Herbert’s courage was superb, and the

reporter’s sang-froid astonishing. Already twenty magnificent skins

ornamented the dining-room of Granite House, and if this continued, the

jaguar race would soon be extinct in the island, the object aimed at by

the hunters.

The engineer sometimes took part in the expeditions made to the unknown

parts of the island, which he surveyed with great attention. It was for

other traces than those of animals that he searched the thickets of the

vast forest, but nothing suspicious ever appeared. Neither Top nor Jup,

who accompanied him, ever betrayed by their behavior that there was

anything strange there, and yet more than once again the dog barked at

the mouth of the well, which the engineer had before explored without

result.

At this time Gideon Spilett, aided by Herbert, took several views of

the most picturesque parts of the island, by means of the photographic

apparatus found in the cases, and of which they had not as yet made any

use.

This apparatus, provided with a powerful object-glass, was very

complete. Substances necessary for the photographic reproduction,

collodion for preparing the glass plate, nitrate of silver to render it

sensitive, hyposulfate of soda to fix the prints obtained, chloride of

ammonium in which to soak the paper destined to give the positive proof,

acetate of soda and chloride of gold in which to immerse the paper,

nothing was wanting. Even the papers were there, all prepared,

and before laying in the printing-frame upon the negatives, it was

sufficient to soak them for a few minutes in the solution of nitrate of

silver.

The reporter and his assistant became in a short time very skilful

operators, and they obtained fine views of the country, such as the

island, taken from Prospect Heights with Mount Franklin in the distance,

the mouth of the Mercy, so picturesquely framed in high rocks, the glade

and the corral, with the spurs of the mountain in the background, the

curious development of Claw Cape, Flotsam Point, etc.

Nor did the photographers forget to take the portraits of all the

inhabitants of the island, leaving out no one.

“It multiplies us,” said Pencroft.

And the sailor was enchanted to see his own countenance, faithfully

reproduced, ornamenting the walls of Granite House, and he stopped

as willingly before this exhibition as he would have done before the

richest shop-windows in Broadway.

But it must be acknowledged that the most successful portrait was

incontestably that of Master Jup. Master Jup had sat with a gravity not

to be described, and his portrait was lifelike!

“He looks as if he was just going to grin!” exclaimed Pencroft.

And if Master Jup had not been satisfied, he would have been very

difficult to please; but he was quite contented and contemplated his own

countenance with a sentimental air which expressed some small amount of

conceit.

The summer heat ended with the month of March. The weather was sometimes

rainy, but still warm. The month of March, which corresponds to the

September of northern latitudes, was not so fine as might have been

hoped. Perhaps it announced an early and rigorous winter.

It might have been supposed one morning--the 21 st--that the first snow

had already made its appearance. In fact Herbert looking early from one

of the windows of Granite House, exclaimed,--

“Hallo! the islet is covered with snow!”

“Snow at this time?” answered the reporter, joining the boy.

Their companions were soon beside them, but could only ascertain one

thing, that not only the islet but all the beach below Granite House was

covered with one uniform sheet of white.

“It must be snow!” said Pencroft.

“Or rather it’s very like it!” replied Neb.

“But the thermometer marks fifty-eight degrees!” observed Gideon

Spilett.

Cyrus Harding gazed at the sheet of white without saying anything, for

he really did not know how to explain this phenomenon, at this time of

year and in such a temperature.

“By Jove!” exclaimed Pencroft, “all our plants will be frozen!”

And the sailor was about to descend, when he was preceded by the nimble

Jup, who slid down to the sand.

But the orang had not touched the ground, when the snowy sheet arose and

dispersed in the air in such innumerable flakes that the light of the

sun was obscured for some minutes.

“Birds!” cried Herbert.

They were indeed swarms of sea-birds, with dazzling white plumage.

They had perched by thousands on the islet and on the shore, and they

disappeared in the distance, leaving the colonists amazed as if they

had been present at some transformation scene, in which summer succeeded

winter at the touch of a fairy’s wand. Unfortunately the change had been

so sudden, that neither the reporter nor the lad had been able to bring

down one of these birds, of which they could not recognize the species.

A few days after came the 26th of March, the day on which, two years

before, the castaways from the air had been thrown upon Lincoln Island.

Chapter 19

Two years already! and for two years the colonists had had no

communication with their fellow-creatures! They were without news from

the civilized world, lost on this island, as completely as if they had

been on the most minute star of the celestial hemisphere!

What was now happening in their country? The picture of their native

land was always before their eyes, the land torn by civil war at the

time they left it, and which the Southern rebellion was perhaps still

staining with blood! It was a great sorrow to them, and they often

talked together of these things, without ever doubting however that

the cause of the North must triumph, for the honor of the American

Confederation.

During these two years not a vessel had passed in sight of the island;

or, at least, not a sail had been seen. It was evident that Lincoln

Island was out of the usual track, and also that it was unknown,--as was

besides proved by the maps,--for though there was no port, vessels might

have visited it for the purpose of renewing their store of water. But

the surrounding ocean was deserted as far as the eye could reach, and

the colonists must rely on themselves for regaining their native land.

However, one chance of rescue existed, and this chance was discussed

one day on the first week of April, when the colonists were gathered

together in the dining-room of Granite House.

They had been talking of America, of their native country, which they

had so little hope of ever seeing again.

“Decidedly we have only one way,” said Spilett, “one single way for

leaving Lincoln Island, and that is, to build a vessel large enough to

sail several hundred miles. It appears to me, that when one has built a

boat it is just as easy to build a ship!”

“And in which we might go to the Pomoutous,” added Herbert, “just as

easily as we went to Tabor Island.”

“I do not say no,” replied Pencroft, who had always the casting vote

in maritime questions; “I do not say no, although it is not exactly the

same thing to make a long as a short voyage! If our little craft had

been caught in any heavy gale of wind during the voyage to Tabor Island,

we should have known that land was at no great distance either way; but

twelve hundred miles is a pretty long way, and the nearest land is at

least that distance!”

“Would you not, in that case, Pencroft, attempt the adventure?” asked

the reporter.

“I will attempt anything that is desired, Mr. Spilett,” answered the

sailor, “and you know well that I am not a man to flinch!”

“Remember, besides, that we number another sailor amongst us now,”

remarked Neb.

“Who is that?” asked Pencroft.

“Ayrton.”

“If he will consent to come,” said Pencroft.

“Nonsense!” returned the reporter; “do you think that if Lord

Glenarvan’s yacht had appeared at Tabor Island, while he was still

living there, Ayrton would have refused to depart?”

“You forget, my friends,” then said Cyrus Harding, “that Ayrton was not

in possession of his reason during the last years of his stay there. But

that is not the question. The point is to know if we may count among

our chances of being rescued, the return of the Scotch vessel. Now,

Lord Glenarvan promised Ayrton that he would return to take him off from

Tabor Island when he considered that his crimes were expiated, and I

believe that he will return.”

“Yes,” said the reporter, “and I will add that he will return soon, for

it is twelve years since Ayrton was abandoned.”

“Well!” answered Pencroft, “I agree with you that the nobleman will

return, and soon too. But where will he touch? At Tabor Island, and not

at Lincoln Island.”

“That is the more certain,” replied Herbert, “as Lincoln Island is not

even marked on the map.”

“Therefore, my friends,” said the engineer, “we ought to take the

necessary precautions for making our presence and that of Ayrton on

Lincoln Island known at Tabor Island.”

“Certainly,” answered the reporter, “and nothing is easier than to place

in the hut, which was Captain Grant’s and Ayrton’s dwelling, a notice

which Lord Glenarvan and his crew cannot help finding, giving the

position of our island.”

“It is a pity,” remarked the sailor, “that we forgot to take that

precaution on our first visit to Tabor Island.”

“And why should we have done it?” asked Herbert. “At that time we did

not know Ayrton’s history; we did not know that any one was likely to

come some day to fetch him, and when we did know his history, the season

was too advanced to allow us to return then to Tabor Island.”

“Yes,” replied Harding, “it was too late, and we must put off the voyage

until next spring.”

“But suppose the Scotch yacht comes before that,” said Pencroft.

“That is not probable,” replied the engineer, “for Lord Glenarvan would

not choose the winter season to venture into these seas. Either he has

already returned to Tabor Island, since Ayrton has been with us, that is

to say, during the last five months and has left again; or he will not

come till later, and it will be time enough in the first fine October

days to go to Tabor Island, and leave a notice there.”

“We must allow,” said Neb, “that it will be very unfortunate if the

‘Duncan’ has returned to these parts only a few months ago!”

“I hope that it is not so,” replied Cyrus Harding, “and that Heaven has

not deprived us of the best chance which remains to us.”

“I think,” observed the reporter, “that at any rate we shall know what

we have to depend on when we have been to Tabor Island, for if the yacht

has returned there, they will necessarily have left some traces of their

visit.”

“That is evident,” answered the engineer. “So then, my friends, since

we have this chance of returning to our country, we must wait patiently,

and if it is taken from us we shall see what will be best to do.”

“At any rate,” remarked Pencroft, “it is well understood that if we

do leave Lincoln Island, it will not be because we were uncomfortable

there!”

“No, Pencroft,” replied the engineer, “it will be because we are far

from all that a man holds dearest in the world, his family, his friends,

his native land!”

Matters being thus decided, the building of a vessel large enough to

sail either to the Archipelagoes in the north, or to New Zealand in

the west, was no longer talked of, and they busied themselves in their

accustomed occupations, with a view to wintering a third time in Granite

House.

However, it was agreed that before the stormy weather came on, their

little vessel should be employed in making a voyage round the island.

A complete survey of the coast had not yet been made, and the colonists

had but an imperfect idea of the shore to the west and north, from the

mouth of Falls River to the Mandible Capes, as well as of the narrow bay

between them, which opened like a shark’s jaws.

The plan of this excursion was proposed by Pencroft, and Cyrus Harding

fully acquiesced in it, for he himself wished to see this part of his

domain.

The weather was variable, but the barometer did not fluctuate by sudden

movements, and they could therefore count on tolerable weather. However,

during the first week of April, after a sudden barometrical fall, a

renewed rise was marked by a heavy gale of wind, lasting five or six

days; then the needle of the instrument remained stationary at a

height of twenty-nine inches and nine-tenths, and the weather appeared

propitious for an excursion.

The departure was fixed for the 16th of April, and the “Bonadventure,”

anchored in Port Balloon, was provisioned for a voyage which might be of

some duration.

Cyrus Harding informed Ayrton of the projected expedition, and proposed

that he should take part in it, but Ayrton preferring to remain on

shore, it was decided that he should come to Granite House during the

absence of his companions. Master Jup was ordered to keep him company,

and made no remonstrance.

On the morning of the 16th of April all the colonists, including Top,

embarked. A fine breeze blew from the south-west, and the “Bonadventure”

tacked on leaving Port Balloon so as to reach Reptile End. Of the ninety

miles which the perimeter of the island measured, twenty included the

south coast between the port and the promontory. The wind being right

ahead it was necessary to hug the shore.

It took the whole day to reach the promontory, for the vessel on leaving

port had only two hours of ebb tide and had therefore to make way for

six hours against the flood. It was nightfall before the promontory was

doubled.

The sailor then proposed to the engineer that they should continue

sailing slowly with two reefs in the sail. But Harding preferred to

anchor a few cable-lengths from the shore, so as to survey that part of

the coast during the day. It was agreed also that as they were anxious

for a minute exploration of the coast they should not sail during the

night, but would always, when the weather permitted it, be at anchor

near the shore.

The night was passed under the promontory, and the wind having fallen,

nothing disturbed the silence. The passengers, with the exception of the

sailor, scarcely slept as well on board the “Bonadventure” as they would

have done in their rooms at Granite House, but they did sleep however.

Pencroft set sail at break of day, and by going on the larboard tack

they could keep close to the shore.

The colonists knew this beautiful wooded coast, since they had already

explored it on foot, and yet it again excited their admiration. They

coasted along as close in as possible, so as to notice everything,

avoiding always the trunks of trees which floated here and there.

Several times also they anchored, and Gideon Spilett took photographs of

the superb scenery.

About noon the “Bonadventure” arrived at the mouth of Falls River.

Beyond, on the left bank, a few scattered trees appeared, and three

miles further even these dwindled into solitary groups among the western

spurs of the mountain, whose arid ridge sloped down to the shore.

What a contrast between the northern and southern part of the coast!

In proportion as one was woody and fertile so was the other rugged and

barren! It might have been designated as one of those iron coasts, as

they are called in some countries, and its wild confusion appeared to

indicate that a sudden crystallization had been produced in the yet

liquid basalt of some distant geological sea. These stupendous masses

would have terrified the settlers if they had been cast at first on

this part of the island! They had not been able to perceive the sinister

aspect of this shore from the summit of Mount Franklin, for they

overlooked it from too great a height, but viewed from the sea it

presented a wild appearance which could not perhaps be equaled in any

corner of the globe.

The “Bonadventure” sailed along this coast for the distance of half a

mile. It was easy to see that it was composed of blocks of all sizes,

from twenty to three hundred feet in height, and of all shapes, round

like towers, prismatic like steeples, pyramidal like obelisks, conical

like factory chimneys. An iceberg of the Polar seas could not have been

more capricious in its terrible sublimity! Here, bridges were thrown

from one rock to another; there, arches like those of a wave, into the

depths of which the eye could not penetrate; in one place, large vaulted

excavations presented a monumental aspect; in another, a crowd of

columns, spires, and arches, such as no Gothic cathedral ever

possessed. Every caprice of nature, still more varied than those of the

imagination, appeared on this grand coast, which extended over a length

of eight or nine miles.

Cyrus Harding and his companions gazed, with a feeling of surprise

bordering on stupefaction. But, although they remained silent, Top,

not being troubled with feelings of this sort, uttered barks which were

repeated by the thousand echoes of the basaltic cliff. The engineer

even observed that these barks had something strange in them, like those

which the dog had uttered at the mouth of the well in Granite House.

“Let us go close in,” said he.

And the “Bonadventure” sailed as near as possible to the rocky shore.

Perhaps some cave, which it would be advisable to explore, existed

there? But Harding saw nothing, not a cavern, not a cleft which could

serve as a retreat to any being whatever, for the foot of the cliff was

washed by the surf. Soon Top’s barks ceased, and the vessel continued

her course at a few cables-length from the coast.

In the northwest part of the island the shore became again flat and

sandy. A few trees here and there rose above a low, marshy ground, which

the colonists had already surveyed, and in violent contrast to the other

desert shore, life was again manifested by the presence of myriads of

water-fowl. That evening the “Bonadventure” anchored in a small bay

to the north of the island, near the land, such was the depth of water

there. The night passed quietly, for the breeze died away with the last

light of day, and only rose again with the first streaks of dawn.

As it was easy to land, the usual hunters of the colony, that is to say,

Herbert and Gideon Spilett, went for a ramble of two hours or so, and

returned with several strings of wild duck and snipe. Top had

done wonders, and not a bird had been lost, thanks to his zeal and

cleverness.

At eight o’clock in the morning the “Bonadventure” set sail, and ran

rapidly towards North Mandible Cape, for the wind was right astern and

freshening rapidly.

“However,” observed Pencroft, “I should not be surprised if a gale came

up from the west. Yesterday the sun set in a very red-looking horizon,

and now, this morning, those mares-tails don’t forbode anything good.”

These mares-tails are cirrus clouds, scattered in the zenith, their

height from the sea being less than five thousand feet. They look like

light pieces of cotton wool, and their presence usually announces some

sudden change in the weather.

“Well,” said Harding, “let us carry as much sail as possible, and run

for shelter into Shark Gulf. I think that the ‘Bonadventure’ will be

safe there.”

“Perfectly,” replied Pencroft, “and besides, the north coast is merely

sand, very uninteresting to look at.”

“I shall not be sorry,” resumed the engineer, “to pass not only to-night

but to-morrow in that bay, which is worth being carefully explored.”

“I think that we shall be obliged to do so, whether we like it or not,”

answered Pencroft, “for the sky looks very threatening towards the west.

Dirty weather is coming on!”

“At any rate we have a favorable wind for reaching Cape Mandible,”

observed the reporter.

“A very fine wind,” replied the sailor; “but we must tack to enter the

gulf, and I should like to see my way clear in these unknown quarters.”

“Quarters which appear to be filled with rocks,” added Herbert, “if we

judge by what we saw on the south coast of Shark Gulf.”

“Pencroft,” said Cyrus Harding, “do as you think best, we will leave it

to you.”

“Don’t make your mind uneasy, captain,” replied the sailor, “I shall not

expose myself needlessly! I would rather a knife were run into my ribs

than a sharp rock into those of my ‘Bonadventure!’”

That which Pencroft called ribs was the part of his vessel under water,

and he valued it more than his own skin.

“What o’clock is it?” asked Pencroft.

“Ten o’clock,” replied Gideon Spilett.

“And what distance is it to the Cape, captain?”

“About fifteen miles,” replied the engineer.

“That’s a matter of two hours and a half,” said the sailor, “and we

shall be off the Cape between twelve and one o’clock. Unluckily, the

tide will be turning at that moment, and will be ebbing out of the gulf.

I am afraid that it will be very difficult to get in, having both wind

and tide against us.”

“And the more so that it is a full moon to-day,” remarked Herbert, “and

these April tides are very strong.”

“Well, Pencroft,” asked Harding, “can you not anchor off the Cape?”

“Anchor near land, with bad weather coming on!” exclaimed the sailor.

“What are you thinking of, captain? We should run aground, of a

certainty!”

“What will you do then?”

“I shall try to keep in the offing until the flood, that is to say, till

about seven in the evening, and if there is still light enough I will

try to enter the gulf; if not, we must stand off and on during the

night, and we will enter to-morrow at sunrise.”

“As I told you, Pencroft, we will leave it to you,” answered Harding.

“Ah!” said Pencroft, “if there was only a lighthouse on the coast, it

would be much more convenient for sailors.”

“Yes,” replied Herbert, “and this time we shall have no obliging

engineer to light a fire to guide us into port!”

“Why, indeed, my dear Cyrus,” said Spilett, “we have never thanked you;

but frankly, without that fire we should never have been able--”

“A fire?” asked Harding, much astonished at the reporter’s words.

“We mean, captain,” answered Pencroft, “that on board the ‘Bonadventure’

we were very anxious during the few hours before our return, and we

should have passed to windward of the island, if it had not been for the

precaution you took of lighting a fire the night of the 19th of October,

on Prospect Heights.”

“Yes, yes! That was a lucky idea of mine!” replied the engineer.

“And this time,” continued the sailor, “unless the idea occurs to

Ayrton, there will be no one to do us that little service!”

“No! No one!” answered Cyrus Harding.

A few minutes after, finding himself alone in the bows of the vessel,

with the reporter, the engineer bent down and whispered,--

“If there is one thing certain in this world, Spilett, it is that I

never lighted any fire during the night of the 19th of October, neither

on Prospect Heights nor on any other part of the island!”

Chapter 20

Things happened as Pencroft had predicted, he being seldom mistaken in

his prognostications. The wind rose, and from a fresh breeze it soon

increased to a regular gale; that is to say, it acquired a speed of from

forty to forty-five miles an hour, before which a ship in the open sea

would have run under close-reefed topsails. Now, as it was nearly six

o’clock when the “Bonadventure” reached the gulf, and as at that

moment the tide turned, it was impossible to enter. They were therefore

compelled to stand off, for even if he had wished to do so, Pencroft

could not have gained the mouth of the Mercy. Hoisting the jib to the

mainmast by way of a storm-sail, he hove to, putting the head of the

vessel towards the land.

Fortunately, although the wind was strong the sea, being sheltered by

the land, did not run very high. They had then little to fear from

the waves, which always endanger small craft. The “Bonadventure” would

doubtlessly not have capsized, for she was well ballasted, but enormous

masses of water falling on the deck might injure her if her timbers

could not sustain them. Pencroft, as a good sailor, was prepared

for anything. Certainly, he had great confidence in his vessel, but

nevertheless he awaited the return of day with some anxiety.

During the night, Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett had no opportunity

for talking together, and yet the words pronounced in the reporter’s

ear by the engineer were well worth being discussed, together with the

mysterious influence which appeared to reign over Lincoln Island. Gideon

Spilett did not cease from pondering over this new and inexplicable

incident, the appearance of a fire on the coast of the island. The fire

had actually been seen! His companions, Herbert and Pencroft, had seen

it with him! The fire had served to signalize the position of the island

during that dark night, and they had not doubted that it was lighted by

the engineer’s hand; and here was Cyrus Harding expressly declaring that

he had never done anything of the sort! Spilett resolved to recur to

this incident as soon as the “Bonadventure” returned, and to urge Cyrus

Harding to acquaint their companions with these strange facts. Perhaps

it would be decided to make in common a complete investigation of every

part of Lincoln Island.

However that might be, on this evening no fire was lighted on these yet

unknown shores, which formed the entrance to the gulf, and the little

vessel stood off during the night.

When the first streaks of dawn appeared in the western horizon, the

wind, which had slightly fallen, shifted two points, and enabled

Pencroft to enter the narrow gulf with greater ease. Towards seven

o’clock in the morning, the “Bonadventure,” weathering the North

Mandible Cape, entered the strait and glided on to the waters, so

strangely enclosed in the frame of lava.

“Well,” said Pencroft, “this bay would make admirable roads, in which a

whole fleet could lie at their ease!”

“What is especially curious,” observed Harding, “is that the gulf

has been formed by two rivers of lava, thrown out by the volcano, and

accumulated by successive eruptions. The result is that the gulf is

completely sheltered on all sides, and I believe that even in the

stormiest weather, the sea here must be as calm as a lake.”

“No doubt,” returned the sailor, “since the wind has only that narrow

entrance between the two capes to get in by, and, besides, the north

cape protects that of the south in a way which would make the entrance

of gusts very difficult. I declare our ‘Bonadventure’ could stay here

from one end of the year to the other, without even dragging at her

anchor!”

“It is rather large for her!” observed the reporter.

“Well! Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “I agree that it is too large

for the ‘Bonadventure,’ but if the fleets of the Union were in want of a

harbor in the Pacific, I don’t think they would ever find a better place

than this!”

“We are in the shark’s mouth,” remarked Neb, alluding to the form of the

gulf.

“Right into its mouth, my honest Neb!” replied Herbert, “but you are not

afraid that it will shut upon us, are you?”

“No, Mr. Herbert,” answered Neb, “and yet this gulf here doesn’t please

me much! It has a wicked look!”

“Hallo!” cried Pencroft, “here is Neb turning up his nose at my gulf,

just as I was thinking of presenting it to America!”

“But, at any rate, is the water deep enough?” asked the engineer, “for a

depth sufficient for the keel of the ‘Bonadventure’ would not be enough

for those of our iron-clads.”

“That is easily found out,” replied Pencroft.

And the sailor sounded with a long cord, which served him as a

lead-line, and to which was fastened a lump of iron. This cord measured

nearly fifty fathoms, and its entire length was unrolled without finding

any bottom.

“There,” exclaimed Pencroft, “our iron-clads can come here after all!

They would not run aground!”

“Indeed,” said Gideon Spilett, “this gulf is a regular abyss, but,

taking into consideration the volcanic origin of the island, it is not

astonishing that the sea should offer similar depressions.”

“One would say too,” observed Herbert, “that these cliffs were perfectly

perpendicular; and I believe that at their foot, even with a line five

or six times longer, Pencroft would not find bottom.”

“That is all very well,” then said the reporter, “but I must point out

to Pencroft that his harbor is wanting in one very important respect!”

“And what is that, Mr. Spilett?”

“An opening, a cutting of some sort, to give access to the interior of

the island. I do not see a spot on which we could land.” And, in

fact, the steep lava cliffs did not afford a single place suitable for

landing. They formed an insuperable barrier, recalling, but with more

wildness, the fiords of Norway. The “Bonadventure,” coasting as close

as possible along the cliffs, did not discover even a projection which

would allow the passengers to leave the deck.

Pencroft consoled himself by saying that with the help of a mine they

could soon open out the cliff when that was necessary, and then, as

there was evidently nothing to be done in the gulf, he steered his

vessel towards the strait and passed out at about two o’clock in the

afternoon.

“Ah!” said Neb, uttering a sigh of satisfaction.

One might really say that the honest Negro did not feel at his ease in

those enormous jaws.

The distance from Mandible Cape to the mouth of the Mercy was not more

than eight miles. The head of the “Bonadventure” was put towards Granite

House, and a fair wind filling her sails, she ran rapidly along the

coast.

To the enormous lava rocks succeeded soon those capricious sand dunes,

among which the engineer had been so singularly recovered, and which

seabirds frequented in thousands.

About four o’clock, Pencroft leaving the point of the islet on his

left, entered the channel which separated it from the coast, and at five

o’clock the anchor of the “Bonadventure” was buried in the sand at the

mouth of the Mercy.

The colonists had been absent three days from their dwelling. Ayrton

was waiting for them on the beach, and Jup came joyously to meet them,

giving vent to deep grunts of satisfaction.

A complete exploration of the coast of the island had now been made,

and no suspicious appearances had been observed. If any mysterious being

resided on it, it could only be under cover of the impenetrable forest

of the Serpentine Peninsula, to which the colonists had not yet directed

their investigations.

Gideon Spilett discussed these things with the engineer, and it was

agreed that they should direct the attention of their companions to the

strange character of certain incidents which had occurred on the island,

and of which the last was the most unaccountable.

However, Harding, returning to the fact of a fire having been kindled on

the shore by an unknown hand, could not refrain from repeating for the

twentieth time to the reporter,--

“But are you quite sure of having seen it? Was it not a partial eruption

of the volcano, or perhaps some meteor?”

“No, Cyrus,” answered the reporter, “it was certainly a fire lighted by

the hand of man. Besides; question Pencroft and Herbert. They saw it as

I saw it myself, and they will confirm my words.”

In consequence, therefore, a few days after, on the 25th of April, in

the evening, when the settlers were all collected on Prospect Heights,

Cyrus Harding began by saying,--

“My friends, I think it my duty to call your attention to certain

incidents which have occurred in the island, on the subject of which I

shall be happy to have your advice. These incidents are, so to speak,

supernatural--”

“Supernatural!” exclaimed the sailor, emitting a volume of smoke from

his mouth. “Can it be possible that our island is supernatural?”

“No, Pencroft, but mysterious, most certainly,” replied the engineer;

“unless you can explain that which Spilett and I have until now failed

to understand.”

“Speak away, captain,” answered the sailor.

“Well, have you understood,” then said the engineer, “how was it that

after falling into the sea, I was found a quarter of a mile into the

interior of the island, and that, without my having any consciousness of

my removal there?”

“Unless, being unconscious--” said Pencroft.

“That is not admissible,” replied the engineer. “But to continue. Have

you understood how Top was able to discover your retreat five miles from

the cave in which I was lying?”

“The dog’s instinct--” observed Herbert.

“Singular instinct!” returned the reporter, “since notwithstanding the

storm of rain and wind which was raging during that night, Top arrived

at the Chimneys, dry and without a speck of mud!”

“Let us continue,” resumed the engineer. “Have you understood how our

dog was so strangely thrown up out of the water of the lake, after his

struggle with the dugong?”

“No! I confess, not at all,” replied Pencroft, “and the wound which the

dugong had in its side, a wound which seemed to have been made with a

sharp instrument; that can’t be understood, either.”

“Let us continue again,” said Harding. “Have you understood, my friends,

how that bullet got into the body of the young peccary; how that case

happened to be so fortunately stranded, without there being any trace

of a wreck; how that bottle containing the document presented itself

so opportunely, during our first sea-excursion; how our canoe, having

broken its moorings, floated down the current of the Mercy and rejoined

us at the very moment we needed it; how after the ape invasion the

ladder was so obligingly thrown down from Granite House; and lastly, how

the document, which Ayrton asserts was never written by him, fell into

our hands?”

As Cyrus Harding thus enumerated, without forgetting one, the singular

incidents which had occurred in the island, Herbert, Neb, and Pencroft

stared at each other, not knowing what to reply, for this succession of

incidents, grouped thus for the first time, could not but excite their

surprise to the highest degree.

“‘Pon my word,” said Pencroft at last, “you are right, captain, and it

is difficult to explain all these things!”

“Well, my friends,” resumed the engineer, “a last fact has just been

added to these, and it is no less incomprehensible than the others!”

“What is it, captain?” asked Herbert quickly.

“When you were returning from Tabor Island, Pencroft,” continued the

engineer, “you said that a fire appeared on Lincoln Island?”

“Certainly,” answered the sailor.

“And you are quite certain of having seen this fire?”

“As sure as I see you now.”

“You also, Herbert?”

“Why, captain,” cried Herbert, “that fire was blazing like a star of the

first magnitude!”

“But was it not a star?” urged the engineer.

“No,” replied Pencroft, “for the sky was covered with thick clouds, and

at any rate a star would not have been so low on the horizon. But Mr.

Spilett saw it as well as we, and he will confirm our words.”

“I will add,” said the reporter, “that the fire was very bright, and

that it shot up like a sheet of lightning.”

“Yes, yes! exactly,” added Herbert, “and it was certainly placed on the

heights of Granite House.”

“Well, my friends,” replied Cyrus Harding, “during the night of the 19th

of October, neither Neb nor I lighted any fire on the coast.”

“You did not!” exclaimed Pencroft, in the height of his astonishment,

not being able to finish his sentence.

“We did not leave Granite House,” answered Cyrus Harding, “and if a fire

appeared on the coast, it was lighted by another hand than ours!”

Pencroft, Herbert, and Neb were stupefied. No illusion could be

possible, and a fire had actually met their eyes during the night of the

19th of October. Yes! they had to acknowledge it, a mystery existed! An

inexplicable influence, evidently favorable to the colonists, but very

irritating to their curiosity, was executed always in the nick of time

on Lincoln Island. Could there be some being hidden in its profoundest

recesses? It was necessary at any cost to ascertain this.

Harding also reminded his companions of the singular behavior of Top and

Jup when they prowled round the mouth of the well, which placed Granite

House in communication with the sea, and he told them that he had

explored the well, without discovering anything suspicious. The final

resolve taken, in consequence of this conversation, by all the members

of the colony, was that as soon as the fine season returned they would

thoroughly search the whole of the island.

But from that day Pencroft appeared to be anxious. He felt as if the

island which he had made his own personal property belonged to him

entirely no longer, and that he shared it with another master, to

whom, willing or not, he felt subject. Neb and he often talked of those

unaccountable things, and both, their natures inclining them to the

marvelous, were not far from believing that Lincoln Island was under the

dominion of some supernatural power.

In the meanwhile, the bad weather came with the month of May, the

November of the northern zones. It appeared that the winter would

be severe and forward. The preparations for the winter season were

therefore commenced without delay.

Nevertheless, the colonists were well prepared to meet the winter,

however hard it might be. They had plenty of felt clothing, and the

musmons, very numerous by this time, had furnished an abundance of wool

necessary for the manufacture of this warm material.

It is unnecessary to say that Ayrton had been provided with this

comfortable clothing. Cyrus Harding proposed that he should come to

spend the bad season with them in Granite House, where he would be

better lodged than at the corral, and Ayrton promised to do so, as soon

as the last work at the corral was finished. He did this towards the

middle of April. From that time Ayrton shared the common life, and made

himself useful on all occasions; but still humble and sad, he never took

part in the pleasures of his companions.

For the greater part of this, the third winter which the settlers passed

in Lincoln Island, they were confined to Granite House. There were many

violent storms and frightful tempests, which appeared to shake the rocks

to their very foundations. Immense waves threatened to overwhelm the

island, and certainly any vessel anchored near the shore would have

been dashed to pieces. Twice, during one of these hurricanes, the Mercy

swelled to such a degree as to give reason to fear that the bridges

would be swept away, and it was necessary to strengthen those on the

shore, which disappeared under the foaming waters, when the sea beat

against the beach.

It may well be supposed that such storms, comparable to water-spouts in

which were mingled rain and snow, would cause great havoc on the

plateau of Prospect Heights. The mill and the poultry-yard particularly

suffered. The colonists were often obliged to make immediate repairs,

without which the safety of the birds would have been seriously

threatened.

During the worst weather, several jaguars and troops of quadrumana

ventured to the edge of the plateau, and it was always to be feared that

the most active and audacious would, urged by hunger, manage to cross

the stream, which besides, when frozen, offered them an easy passage.

Plantations and domestic animals would then have been infallibly

destroyed, without a constant watch, and it was often necessary to

make use of the guns to keep those dangerous visitors at a respectful

distance. Occupation was not wanting to the colonists, for without

reckoning their out-door cares, they had always a thousand plans for the

fitting up of Granite House.

They had also some fine sporting excursions, which were made during the

frost in the vast Tadorn Marsh. Gideon Spilett and Herbert, aided by

Jup and Top, did not miss a shot in the midst of myriads of wild-duck,

snipe, teal, and others. The access to these hunting-grounds was easy;

besides, whether they reached them by the road to Port Balloon, after

having passed the Mercy Bridge, or by turning the rocks from Flotsam

Point, the hunters were never distant from Granite House more than two

or three miles.

Thus passed the four winter months, which were really rigorous, that is

to say, June, July, August, and September. But, in short, Granite House

did not suffer much from the inclemency of the weather, and it was

the same with the corral, which, less exposed than the plateau, and

sheltered partly by Mount Franklin, only received the remains of the

hurricanes, already broken by the forests and the high rocks of the

shore. The damages there were consequently of small importance, and the

activity and skill of Ayrton promptly repaired them, when some time in

October he returned to pass a few days in the corral.

During this winter, no fresh inexplicable incident occurred. Nothing

strange happened, although Pencroft and Neb were on the watch for the

most insignificant facts to which they attached any mysterious cause.

Top and Jup themselves no longer growled round the well or gave any

signs of uneasiness. It appeared, therefore, as if the series of

supernatural incidents was interrupted, although they often talked of

them during the evenings in Granite House, and they remained thoroughly

resolved that the island should be searched, even in those parts the

most difficult to explore. But an event of the highest importance, and

of which the consequences might be terrible, momentarily diverted from

their projects Cyrus Harding and his companions.

It was the month of October. The fine season was swiftly returning.

Nature was reviving; and among the evergreen foliage of the coniferae

which formed the border of the wood, already appeared the young leaves

of the banksias, deodars, and other trees.

It may be remembered that Gideon Spilett and Herbert had, at different

times, taken photographic views of Lincoln Island.

Now, on the 17th of this month of October, towards three o’clock in

the afternoon, Herbert, enticed by the charms of the sky, thought of

reproducing Union Bay, which was opposite to Prospect Heights, from Cape

Mandible to Claw Cape.

The horizon was beautifully clear, and the sea, undulating under a soft

breeze, was as calm as the waters of a lake, sparkling here and there

under the sun’s rays.

The apparatus had been placed at one of the windows of the dining-room

at Granite House, and consequently overlooked the shore and the bay.

Herbert proceeded as he was accustomed to do, and the negative obtained,

he went away to fix it by means of the chemicals deposited in a dark

nook of Granite House.

Returning to the bright light, and examining it well, Herbert perceived

on his negative an almost imperceptible little spot on the sea horizon.

He endeavored to make it disappear by reiterated washing, but could not

accomplish it.

“It is a flaw in the glass,” he thought.

And then he had the curiosity to examine this flaw with a strong

magnifier which he unscrewed from one of the telescopes.

But he had scarcely looked at it, when he uttered a cry, and the glass

almost fell from his hands.

Immediately running to the room in which Cyrus Harding then was, he

extended the negative and magnifier towards the engineer, pointing out

the little spot.

Harding examined it; then seizing his telescope he rushed to the window.

The telescope, after having slowly swept the horizon, at last stopped on

the looked-for spot, and Cyrus Harding, lowering it, pronounced one word

only,--

“A vessel!”

And in fact a vessel was in sight, off Lincoln Island!

PART 3

THE SECRET OF THE ISLAND

Chapter 1

It was now two years and a half since the castaways from the balloon had

been thrown on Lincoln Island, and during that period there had been no

communication between them and their fellow-creatures. Once the reporter

had attempted to communicate with the inhabited world by confiding to

a bird a letter which contained the secret of their situation, but that

was a chance on which it was impossible to reckon seriously. Ayrton,

alone, under the circumstances which have been related, had come to

join the little colony. Now, suddenly, on this day, the 17th of October,

other men had unexpectedly appeared in sight of the island, on that

deserted sea!

There could be no doubt about it! A vessel was there! But would she

pass on, or would she put into port? In a few hours the colonists would

definitely know what to expect.

Cyrus Harding and Herbert having immediately called Gideon Spilett,

Pencroft, and Neb into the dining-room of Granite House, told them

what had happened. Pencroft, seizing the telescope, rapidly swept the

horizon, and stopping on the indicated point, that is to say, on

that which had made the almost imperceptible spot on the photographic

negative,--

“I’m blessed but it is really a vessel!” he exclaimed, in a voice which

did not express any great amount of satisfaction.

“Is she coming here?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“Impossible to say anything yet,” answered Pencroft, “for her rigging

alone is above the horizon, and not a bit of her hull can be seen.”

“What is to be done?” asked the lad.

“Wait,” replied Harding.

And for a considerable time the settlers remained silent, given up to

all the thoughts, and the emotions, all the fears, all the hopes, which

were aroused by this incident--the most important which had occurred

since their arrival in Lincoln Island. Certainly, the colonists were not

in the situation of castaways abandoned on a sterile islet, constantly

contending against a cruel nature for their miserable existence, and

incessantly tormented by the longing to return to inhabited countries.

Pencroft and Neb, especially, who felt themselves at once so happy and

so rich, would not have left their island without regret. They were

accustomed, besides, to this new life in the midst of the domain which

their intelligence had as it were civilized. But at any rate this ship

brought news from the world, perhaps even from their native land. It was

bringing fellow-creatures to them, and it may be conceived how deeply

their hearts were moved at the sight!

From time to time Pencroft took the glass and rested himself at the

window. From thence he very attentively examined the vessel, which was

at a distance of twenty miles to the east. The colonists had as yet,

therefore, no means of signalizing their presence. A flag would not have

been perceived; a gun would not have been heard; a fire would not have

been visible. However, it was certain that the island, overtopped by

Mount Franklin, could not escape the notice of the vessel’s lookout. But

why was the ship coming there? Was it simple chance which brought it to

that part of the Pacific, where the maps mentioned no land except Tabor

Island, which itself was out of the route usually followed by vessels

from the Polynesian Archipelagoes, from New Zealand, and from the

American coast? To this question, which each one asked himself, a reply

was suddenly made by Herbert.

“Can it be the ‘Duncan’?” he cried.

The “Duncan,” as has been said, was Lord Glenarvan’s yacht, which had

left Ayrton on the islet, and which was to return there someday to fetch

him. Now, the islet was not so far distant from Lincoln Island, but

that a vessel, standing for the one, could pass in sight of the other. A

hundred and fifty miles only separated them in longitude, and seventy in

latitude.

“We must tell Ayrton,” said Gideon Spilett, “and send for him

immediately. He alone can say if it is the ‘Duncan.’”

This was the opinion of all, and the reporter, going to the telegraphic

apparatus which placed the corral in communication with Granite House,

sent this telegram:--“Come with all possible speed.”

In a few minutes the bell sounded.

“I am coming,” replied Ayrton.

Then the settlers continued to watch the vessel.

“If it is the ‘Duncan,’” said Herbert, “Ayrton will recognize her

without difficulty, since he sailed on board her for some time.”

“And if he recognizes her,” added Pencroft, “it will agitate him

exceedingly!”

“Yes,” answered Cyrus Harding; “but now Ayrton is worthy to return on

board the ‘Duncan,’ and pray Heaven that it is indeed Lord Glenarvan’s

yacht, for I should be suspicious of any other vessel. These are

ill-famed seas, and I have always feared a visit from Malay pirates to

our island.”

“We could defend it,’, cried Herbert.

“No doubt, my boy,” answered the engineer smiling, “but it would be

better not to have to defend it.”

“A useless observation,” said Spilett. “Lincoln Island is unknown to

navigators, since it is not marked even on the most recent maps. Do

you think, Cyrus, that that is a sufficient motive for a ship, finding

herself unexpectedly in sight of new land, to try and visit rather than

avoid it?”

“Certainly,” replied Pencroft.

“I think so too,” added the engineer. “It may even be said that it is

the duty of a captain to come and survey any land or island not yet

known, and Lincoln Island is in this position.”

“Well,” said Pencroft, “suppose this vessel comes and anchors there a

few cables-lengths from our island, what shall we do?”

This sudden question remained at first without any reply. But Cyrus

Harding, after some moments’ thought, replied in the calm tone which was

usual to him,--

“What we shall do, my friends? What we ought to do is this:--we will

communicate with the ship, we will take our passage on board her, and we

will leave our island, after having taken possession of it in the name

of the United States. Then we will return with any who may wish to

follow us to colonize it definitely, and endow the American Republic

with a useful station in this part of the Pacific Ocean!”

“Hurrah!” exclaimed Pencroft, “and that will be no small present

which we shall make to our country! The colonization is already almost

finished; names are given to every part of the island; there is

a natural port, fresh water, roads, a telegraph, a dockyard, and

manufactories; and there will be nothing to be done but to inscribe

Lincoln Island on the maps!”

“But if anyone seizes it in our absence?” observed Gideon Spilett.

“Hang it!” cried the sailor. “I would rather remain all alone to guard

it: and trust to Pencroft, they shouldn’t steal it from him, like a

watch from the pocket of a swell!”

For an hour it was impossible to say with any certainty whether the

vessel was or was not standing towards Lincoln Island. She was

nearer, but in what direction was she sailing? This Pencroft could not

determine. However, as the wind was blowing from the northeast, in all

probability the vessel was sailing on the starboard tack. Besides, the

wind was favorable for bringing her towards the island, and, the sea

being calm, she would not be afraid to approach although the shallows

were not marked on the chart.

Towards four o’clock--an hour after he had been sent for--Ayrton arrived

at Granite House. He entered the dining-room saying,--

“At your service, gentlemen.”

Cyrus Harding gave him his hand, as was his custom to do, and, leading

him to the window,--

“Ayrton,” said he, “we have begged you to come here for an important

reason. A ship is in sight of the island.”

Ayrton at first paled slightly, and for a moment his eyes became dim;

then, leaning out the window, he surveyed the horizon, but could see

nothing.

“Take this telescope,” said Spilett, “and look carefully, Ayrton, for

it is possible that this ship may be the ‘Duncan’ come to these seas for

the purpose of taking you home again.”

“The ‘Duncan!’” murmured Ayrton. “Already?” This last word escaped

Ayrton’s lips as if involuntarily, and his head drooped upon his hands.

Did not twelve years’ solitude on a desert island appear to him a

sufficient expiation? Did not the penitent yet feel himself pardoned,

either in his own eyes or in the eyes of others?

“No,” said he, “no! it cannot be the ‘Duncan’!”

“Look, Ayrton,” then said the engineer, “for it is necessary that we

should know beforehand what to expect.”

Ayrton took the glass and pointed it in the direction indicated. During

some minutes he examined the horizon without moving, without uttering a

word. Then,--

“It is indeed a vessel,” said he, “but I do not think she is the

‘Duncan.’”

“Why do you not think so?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“Because the ‘Duncan’ is a steam-yacht, and I cannot perceive any trace

of smoke either above or near that vessel.”

“Perhaps she is simply sailing,” observed Pencroft. “The wind is

favorable for the direction which she appears to be taking, and she may

be anxious to economize her coal, being so far from land.”

“It is possible that you may be right, Mr. Pencroft,” answered Ayrton,

“and that the vessel has extinguished her fires. We must wait until she

is nearer, and then we shall soon know what to expect.”

So saying, Ayrton sat down in a corner of the room and remained silent.

The colonists again discussed the strange ship, but Ayrton took no

part in the conversation. All were in such a mood that they found it

impossible to continue their work. Gideon Spilett and Pencroft were

particularly nervous, going, coming, not able to remain still in one

place. Herbert felt more curiosity. Neb alone maintained his usual

calm manner. Was not his country that where his master was? As to the

engineer, he remained plunged in deep thought, and in his heart feared

rather than desired the arrival of the ship. In the meanwhile, the

vessel was a little nearer the island. With the aid of the glass, it was

ascertained that she was a brig, and not one of those Malay proas, which

are generally used by the pirates of the Pacific. It was, therefore,

reasonable to believe that the engineer’s apprehensions would not be

justified, and that the presence of this vessel in the vicinity of the

island was fraught with no danger.

Pencroft, after a minute examination, was able positively to affirm that

the vessel was rigged as a brig, and that she was standing obliquely

towards the coast, on the starboard tack, under her topsails and

top-gallant-sails. This was confirmed by Ayrton. But by continuing in

this direction she must soon disappear behind Claw Cape, as the wind

was from the southwest, and to watch her it would be then necessary

to ascend the height of Washington Bay, near Port Balloon--a provoking

circumstance, for it was already five o’clock in the evening, and the

twilight would soon make any observation extremely difficult.

“What shall we do when night comes on?” asked Gideon Spilett. “Shall we

light a fire, so as to signal our presence on the coast?”

This was a serious question, and yet, although the engineer still

retained some of his presentiments, it was answered in the affirmative.

During the night the ship might disappear and leave for ever, and, this

ship gone, would another ever return to the waters of Lincoln Island?

Who could foresee what the future would then have in store for the

colonists?

“Yes,” said the reporter, “we ought to make known to that vessel,

whoever she may be, that the island is inhabited. To neglect the

opportunity which is offered to us might be to create everlasting

regrets.”

It was therefore decided that Neb and Pencroft should go to Port

Balloon, and that there, at nightfall, they should light an immense

fire, the blaze of which would necessarily attract the attention of the

brig.

But at the moment when Neb and the sailor were preparing to leave

Granite House, the vessel suddenly altered her course, and stood

directly for Union Bay. The brig was a good sailer, for she approached

rapidly. Neb and Pencroft put off their departure, therefore, and the

glass was put into Ayrton’s hands, that he might ascertain for certain

whether the ship was or was not the “Duncan.” The Scotch yacht was also

rigged as a brig. The question was, whether a chimney could be discerned

between the two masts of the vessel, which was now at a distance of only

five miles.

The horizon was still very clear. The examination was easy, and Ayrton

soon let the glass fall again, saying--

“It is not the ‘Duncan’! It could not be!”

Pencroft again brought the brig within the range of the telescope, and

could see that she was of between three and four hundred tons burden,

wonderfully narrow, well-masted, admirably built, and must be a very

rapid sailer. But to what nation did she belong? That was difficult to

say.

“And yet,” added the sailor, “a flag is floating from her peak, but I

cannot distinguish the colors of it.”

“In half an hour we shall be certain about that,” answered the reporter.

“Besides, it is very evident that the intention of the captain of this

ship is to land, and, consequently, if not today, to-morrow at the

latest, we shall make his acquaintance.”

“Never mind!” said Pencroft. “It is best to know whom we have to deal

with, and I shall not be sorry to recognize that fellow’s colors!”

And, while thus speaking, the sailor never left the glass. The day began

to fade, and with the day the breeze fell also. The brig’s ensign hung

in folds, and it became more and more difficult to observe it.

“It is not the American flag,” said Pencroft from time to time, “nor the

English, the red of which could be easily seen, nor the French or German

colors, nor the white flag of Russia, nor the yellow of Spain. One would

say it was all one color. Let’s see: in these seas, what do we generally

meet with? The Chilean flag?--but that is tri-color. Brazilian?--it is

green. Japanese?--it is yellow and black, while this--”

At that moment the breeze blew out the unknown flag. Ayrton seizing the

telescope which the sailor had put down, put it to his eye, and in a

hoarse voice,--

“The black flag!” he exclaimed.

And indeed the somber bunting was floating from the mast of the brig,

and they had now good reason for considering her to be a suspicious

vessel!

Had the engineer, then, been right in his presentiments? Was this a

pirate vessel? Did she scour the Pacific, competing with the Malay proas

which still infest it? For what had she come to look at the shores of

Lincoln Island? Was it to them an unknown island, ready to become

a magazine for stolen cargoes? Had she come to find on the coast a

sheltered port for the winter months? Was the settlers’ honest domain

destined to be transformed into an infamous refuge--the headquarters of

the piracy of the Pacific?

All these ideas instinctively presented themselves to the colonists’

imaginations. There was no doubt, besides, of the signification which

must be attached to the color of the hoisted flag. It was that of

pirates! It was that which the “Duncan” would have carried, had the

convicts succeeded in their criminal design! No time was lost before

discussing it.

“My friends,” said Cyrus Harding, “perhaps this vessel only wishes to

survey the coast of the island. Perhaps her crew will not land. There is

a chance of it. However that may be, we ought to do everything we can to

hide our presence here. The windmill on Prospect Heights is too easily

seen. Let Ayrton and Neb go and take down the sails. We must also

conceal the windows of Granite House with thick branches. All the fires

must be extinguished, so that nothing may betray the presence of men on

the island.”

“And our vessel?” said Herbert.

“Oh,” answered Pencroft, “she is sheltered in Port Balloon, and I defy

any of those rascals there to find her!”

The engineer’s orders were immediately executed. Neb and Ayrton

ascended the plateau, and took the necessary precautions to conceal

any indication of a settlement. While they were thus occupied, their

companions went to the border of Jacamar Wood, and brought back a large

quantity of branches and creepers, which would at some distance appear

as natural foliage, and thus disguise the windows in the granite cliff.

At the same time, the ammunition and guns were placed ready so as to be

at hand in case of an unexpected attack.

When all these precautions had been taken,--

“My friends,” said Harding, and his voice betrayed some emotion, “if the

wretches endeavor to seize Lincoln Island, we shall defend it--shall we

not?”

“Yes, Cyrus,” replied the reporter, “and if necessary we will die to

defend it!”

The engineer extended his hand to his companions, who pressed it warmly.

Ayrton remained in his corner, not joining the colonists. Perhaps he,

the former convict, still felt himself unworthy to do so!

Cyrus Harding understood what was passing in Ayrton’s mind, and going to

him--

“And you, Ayrton,” he asked, “what will you do?”

“My duty,” answered Ayrton.

He then took up his station near the window and gazed through the

foliage.

It was now half-past seven. The sun had disappeared twenty minutes ago

behind Granite House. Consequently the Eastern horizon was becoming

obscured. In the meanwhile the brig continued to advance towards Union

Bay. She was now not more than two miles off, and exactly opposite the

plateau of Prospect Heights, for after having tacked off Claw Cape, she

had drifted towards the north in the current of the rising tide. One

might have said that at this distance she had already entered the vast

bay, for a straight line drawn from Claw Cape to Cape Mandible would

have rested on her starboard quarter.

Was the brig about to penetrate far into the bay? That was the first

question. When once in the bay, would she anchor there? That was the

second. Would she not content herself with only surveying the coast, and

stand out to sea again without landing her crew? They would know this in

an hour. The colonists could do nothing but wait.

Cyrus Harding had not seen the suspected vessel hoist the black flag

without deep anxiety. Was it not a direct menace against the work which

he and his companions had till now conducted so successfully? Had these

pirates--for the sailors of the brig could be nothing else--already

visited the island, since on approaching it they had hoisted their

colors. Had they formerly invaded it, so that certain unaccountable

peculiarities might be explained in this way? Did there exist in the as

yet unexplored parts some accomplice ready to enter into communication

with them?

To all these questions which he mentally asked himself, Harding knew not

what to reply; but he felt that the safety of the colony could not but

be seriously threatened by the arrival of the brig.

However, he and his companions were determined to fight to the last

gasp. It would have been very important to know if the pirates

were numerous and better armed than the colonists. But how was this

information to be obtained?

Night fell. The new moon had disappeared. Profound darkness enveloped

the island and the sea. No light could pierce through the heavy piles

of clouds on the horizon. The wind had died away completely with the

twilight. Not a leaf rustled on the trees, not a ripple murmured on

the shore. Nothing could be seen of the ship, all her lights being

extinguished, and if she was still in sight of the island, her

whereabouts could not be discovered.

“Well! who knows?” said Pencroft. “Perhaps that cursed craft will stand

off during the night, and we shall see nothing of her at daybreak.”

As if in reply to the sailor’s observation, a bright light flashed in

the darkness, and a cannon-shot was heard.

The vessel was still there and had guns on board.

Six seconds elapsed between the flash and the report.

Therefore the brig was about a mile and a quarter from the coast.

At the same time, the chains were heard rattling through the

hawse-holes.

The vessel had just anchored in sight of Granite House!

Chapter 2

There was no longer any doubt as to the pirates’ intentions. They had

dropped anchor at a short distance from the island, and it was evident

that the next day by means of their boats they purposed to land on the

beach!

Cyrus Harding and his companions were ready to act, but, determined

though they were, they must not forget to be prudent. Perhaps their

presence might still be concealed in the event of the pirates contenting

themselves with landing on the shore without examining the interior of

the island. It might be, indeed, that their only intention was to obtain

fresh water from the Mercy, and it was not impossible that the bridge,

thrown across a mile and a half from the mouth, and the manufactory at

the Chimneys might escape their notice.

But why was that flag hoisted at the brig’s peak? What was that shot

fired for? Pure bravado doubtless, unless it was a sign of the act of

taking possession. Harding knew now that the vessel was well armed. And

what had the colonists of Lincoln Island to reply to the pirates’ guns?

A few muskets only.

“However,” observed Cyrus Harding, “here we are in an impregnable

position. The enemy cannot discover the mouth of the outlet, now that it

is hidden under reeds and grass, and consequently it would be impossible

for them to penetrate into Granite House.”

“But our plantations, our poultry-yard, our corral, all, everything!”

exclaimed Pencroft, stamping his foot. “They may spoil everything,

destroy everything in a few hours!”

“Everything, Pencroft,” answered Harding, “and we have no means of

preventing them.”

“Are they numerous? that is the question,” said the reporter. “If they

are not more than a dozen, we shall be able to stop them, but forty,

fifty, more perhaps!”

“Captain Harding,” then said Ayrton, advancing towards the engineer,

“will you give me leave?”

“For what, my friend?”

“To go to that vessel to find out the strength of her crew.”

“But Ayrton--” answered the engineer, hesitating, “you will risk your

life--”

“Why not, sir?”

“That is more than your duty.”

“I have more than my duty to do,” replied Ayrton.

“Will you go to the ship in the boat?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“No, sir, but I will swim. A boat would be seen where a man may glide

between wind and water.”

“Do you know that the brig is a mile and a quarter from the shore?” said

Herbert.

“I am a good swimmer, Mr. Herbert.”

“I tell you it is risking your life,” said the engineer.

“That is no matter,” answered Ayrton. “Captain Harding, I ask this as a

favor. Perhaps it will be a means of raising me in my own eyes!”

“Go, Ayrton,” replied the engineer, who felt sure that a refusal would

have deeply wounded the former convict, now become an honest man.

“I will accompany you,” said Pencroft.

“You mistrust me!” said Ayrton quickly.

Then more humbly,--

“Alas!”

“No! no!” exclaimed Harding with animation, “no, Ayrton, Pencroft does

not mistrust you. You interpret his words wrongly.”

“Indeed,” returned the sailor, “I only propose to accompany Ayrton as

far as the islet. It may be, although it is scarcely possible, that one

of these villains has landed, and in that case two men will not be too

many to hinder him from giving the alarm. I will wait for Ayrton on the

islet, and he shall go alone to the vessel, since he has proposed to do

so.” These things agreed to, Ayrton made preparations for his departure.

His plan was bold, but it might succeed, thanks to the darkness of the

night. Once arrived at the vessel’s side, Ayrton, holding on to the main

chains, might reconnoiter the number and perhaps overhear the intentions

of the pirates.

Ayrton and Pencroft, followed by their companions, descended to the

beach. Ayrton undressed and rubbed himself with grease, so as to suffer

less from the temperature of the water, which was still cold. He might,

indeed, be obliged to remain in it for several hours.

Pencroft and Neb, during this time, had gone to fetch the boat, moored

a few hundred feet higher up, on the bank of the Mercy, and by the time

they returned, Ayrton was ready to start. A coat was thrown over his

shoulders, and the settlers all came round him to press his hand.

Ayrton then shoved off with Pencroft in the boat.

It was half-past ten in the evening when the two adventurers disappeared

in the darkness. Their companions returned to wait at the Chimneys.

The channel was easily traversed, and the boat touched the opposite

shore of the islet. This was not done without precaution, for fear lest

the pirates might be roaming about there. But after a careful survey,

it was evident that the islet was deserted. Ayrton then, followed by

Pencroft, crossed it with a rapid step, scaring the birds nestled in the

holes of the rocks; then, without hesitating, he plunged into the sea,

and swam noiselessly in the direction of the ship, in which a few lights

had recently appeared, showing her exact situation. As to Pencroft,

he crouched down in a cleft of the rock, and awaited the return of his

companion.

In the meanwhile, Ayrton, swimming with a vigorous stroke, glided

through the sheet of water without producing the slightest ripple. His

head just emerged above it and his eyes were fixed on the dark hull of

the brig, from which the lights were reflected in the water. He thought

only of the duty which he had promised to accomplish, and nothing of the

danger which he ran, not only on board the ship, but in the sea, often

frequented by sharks. The current bore him along and he rapidly receded

from the shore.

Half an hour afterwards, Ayrton, without having been either seen or

heard, arrived at the ship and caught hold of the main-chains. He took

breath, then, hoisting himself up, he managed to reach the extremity of

the cutwater. There were drying several pairs of sailors’ trousers. He

put on a pair. Then settling himself firmly, he listened. They were not

sleeping on board the brig. On the contrary, they were talking, singing,

laughing. And these were the sentences, accompanied with oaths, which

principally struck Ayrton:--

“Our brig is a famous acquisition.”

“She sails well, and merits her name of the ‘Speedy.’”

“She would show all the navy of Norfolk a clean pair of heels.”

“Hurrah for her captain!”

“Hurrah for Bob Harvey!”

What Ayrton felt when he overheard this fragment of conversation may be

understood when it is known that in this Bob Harvey he recognized one

of his old Australian companions, a daring sailor, who had continued his

criminal career. Bob Harvey had seized, on the shores of Norfolk Island

this brig, which was loaded with arms, ammunition, utensils, and tools

of all sorts, destined for one of the Sandwich Islands. All his gang had

gone on board, and pirates after having been convicts, these wretches,

more ferocious than the Malays themselves, scoured the Pacific,

destroying vessels, and massacring their crews.

The convicts spoke loudly, they recounted their deeds, drinking deeply

at the same time, and this is what Ayrton gathered. The actual crew

of the “Speedy” was composed solely of English prisoners, escaped from

Norfolk Island.

Here it may be well to explain what this island was. In 29deg 2’ south

latitude, and 165deg 42’ east longitude, to the east of Australia, is

found a little island, six miles in circumference, overlooked by Mount

Pitt, which rises to a height of 1,100 feet above the level of the sea.

This is Norfolk Island, once the seat of an establishment in which were

lodged the most intractable convicts from the English penitentiaries.

They numbered 500, under an iron discipline, threatened with terrible

punishments, and were guarded by 150 soldiers, and 150 employed

under the orders of the governor. It would be difficult to imagine

a collection of greater ruffians. Sometimes,--although very

rarely,--notwithstanding the extreme surveillance of which they were

the object, many managed to escape, and seizing vessels which they

surprised, they infested the Polynesian Archipelagoes.

Thus had Bob Harvey and his companions done. Thus had Ayrton formerly

wished to do. Bob Harvey had seized the brig “Speedy,” anchored in sight

of Norfolk Island; the crew had been massacred; and for a year this ship

had scoured the Pacific, under the command of Harvey, now a pirate, and

well known to Ayrton!

The convicts were, for the most part, assembled under the poop; but a

few, stretched on the deck, were talking loudly.

The conversation still continued amid shouts and libations. Ayrton

learned that chance alone had brought the “Speedy” in sight of Lincoln

Island; Bob Harvey had never yet set foot on it; but, as Cyrus Harding

had conjectured, finding this unknown land in his course, its position

being marked on no chart, he had formed the project of visiting it, and,

if he found it suitable, of making it the brig’s headquarters.

As to the black flag hoisted at the “Speedy’s” peak, and the gun which

had been fired, in imitation of men-of-war when they lower their

colors, it was pure piratical bravado. It was in no way a signal, and no

communication yet existed between the convicts and Lincoln Island.

The settlers’ domain was now menaced with terrible danger. Evidently

the island, with its water, its harbor, its resources of all kinds so

increased in value by the colonists, and the concealment afforded by

Granite House, could not but be convenient for the convicts; in their

hands it would become an excellent place of refuge, and, being unknown,

it would assure them, for a long time perhaps, impunity and security.

Evidently, also, the lives of the settlers would not be respected, and

Bob Harvey and his accomplices’ first care would be to massacre them

without mercy. Harding and his companions had, therefore, not even the

choice of flying and hiding themselves in the island, since the convicts

intended to reside there, and since, in the event of the “Speedy”

departing on an expedition, it was probable that some of the crew would

remain on shore, so as to settle themselves there. Therefore, it

would be necessary to fight, to destroy every one of these scoundrels,

unworthy of pity, and against whom any means would be right. So thought

Ayrton, and he well knew that Cyrus Harding would be of his way of

thinking.

But was resistance and, in the last place, victory possible? That would

depend on the equipment of the brig, and the number of men which she

carried.

This Ayrton resolved to learn at any cost, and as an hour after his

arrival the vociferations had begun to die away, and as a large number

of the convicts were already buried in a drunken sleep, Ayrton did not

hesitate to venture onto the “Speedy’s” deck, which the extinguished

lanterns now left in total darkness. He hoisted himself onto the

cutwater, and by the bowsprit arrived at the forecastle. Then, gliding

among the convicts stretched here and there, he made the round of the

ship, and found that the “Speedy” carried four guns, which would throw

shot of from eight to ten pounds in weight. He found also, on touching

them that these guns were breech-loaders. They were therefore, of modern

make, easily used, and of terrible effect.

As to the men lying on the deck, they were about ten in number, but

it was to be supposed that more were sleeping down below. Besides, by

listening to them, Ayrton had understood that there were fifty on

board. That was a large number for the six settlers of Lincoln Island to

contend with! But now, thanks to Ayrton’s devotion, Cyrus Harding would

not be surprised, he would know the strength of his adversaries, and

would make his arrangements accordingly.

There was nothing more for Ayrton to do but to return, and render to his

companions an account of the mission with which he had charged himself,

and he prepared to regain the bows of the brig, so that he might let

himself down into the water. But to this man, whose wish was, as he had

said, to do more than his duty, there came an heroic thought. This was

to sacrifice his own life, but save the island and the colonists. Cyrus

Harding evidently could not resist fifty ruffians, all well armed, who,

either by penetrating by main force into Granite House, or by starving

out the besieged, could obtain from them what they wanted. And then he

thought of his preservers--those who had made him again a man, and an

honest mm, those to whom he owed all--murdered without pity, their works

destroyed, their island turned into a pirates’ den! He said to himself

that he, Ayrton, was the principal cause of so many disasters, since his

old companion, Bob Harvey, had but realized his own plans, and a

feeling of horror took possession of him. Then he was seized with an

irresistible desire to blow up the brig and with her, all whom she had

on board. He would perish in the explosion, but he would have done his

duty.

Ayrton did not hesitate. To reach the powder-room, which is always

situated in the after-part of a vessel, was easy. There would be no want

of powder in a vessel which followed such a trade, and a spark would be

enough to destroy it in an instant.

Ayrton stole carefully along the between-decks, strewn with numerous

sleepers, overcome more by drunkenness than sleep. A lantern was lighted

at the foot of the mainmast, round which was hung a gun-rack, furnished

with weapons of all sorts.

Ayrton took a revolver from the rack, and assured himself that it was

loaded and primed. Nothing more was needed to accomplish the work of

destruction. He then glided towards the stern, so as to arrive under the

brig’s poop at the powder-magazine.

It was difficult to proceed along the dimly lighted deck without

stumbling over some half-sleeping convict, who retorted by oaths and

kicks. Ayrton was, therefore, more than once obliged to halt. But at

last he arrived at the partition dividing the aftercabin, and found the

door opening into the magazine itself.

Ayrton, compelled to force it open, set to work. It was a difficult

operation to perform without noise, for he had to break a padlock. But

under his vigorous hand, the padlock broke, and the door was open.

At that moment a hand was laid on Ayrton’s shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” asked a tall man, in a harsh voice, who,

standing in the shadow, quickly threw the light of a lantern in Ayrton’s

face.

Ayrton drew back. In the rapid flash of the lantern, he had recognized

his former accomplice, Bob Harvey, who could not have known him, as he

must have thought Ayrton long since dead.

“What are you doing here?” again said Bob Harvey, seizing Ayrton by the

waistband.

But Ayrton, without replying, wrenched himself from his grasp and

attempted to rush into the magazine. A shot fired into the midst of the

powder-casks, and all would be over!

“Help, lads!” shouted Bob Harvey.

At his shout two or three pirates awoke, jumped up, and, rushing on

Ayrton, endeavored to throw him down. He soon extricated himself from

their grasp. He fired his revolver, and two of the convicts fell, but

a blow from a knife which he could not ward off made a gash in his

shoulder.

Ayrton perceived that he could no longer hope to carry out his project.

Bob Harvey had reclosed the door of the powder-magazine, and a movement

on the deck indicated a general awakening of the pirates. Ayrton must

reserve himself to fight at the side of Cyrus Harding. There was nothing

for him but flight!

But was flight still possible? It was doubtful, yet Ayrton resolved to

dare everything in order to rejoin his companions.