Four barrels of the revolver were still undischarged. Two were

fired--one, aimed at Bob Harvey, did not wound him, or at any rate

only slightly, and Ayrton, profiting by the momentary retreat of his

adversaries, rushed towards the companion-ladder to gain the deck.

Passing before the lantern, he smashed it with a blow from the butt of

his revolver. A profound darkness ensued, which favored his flight. Two

or three pirates, awakened by the noise, were descending the ladder at

the same moment.

A fifth shot from Ayrton laid one low, and the others drew back, not

understanding what was going on. Ayrton was on deck in two bounds, and

three seconds later, having discharged his last barrel in the face of

a pirate who was about to seize him by the throat, he leaped over the

bulwarks into the sea.

Ayrton had not made six strokes before shots were splashing around him

like hail.

What were Pencroft’s feelings, sheltered under a rock on the islet! What

were those of Harding, the reporter, Herbert, and Neb, crouched in the

Chimneys, when they heard the reports on board the brig! They rushed out

on to the beach, and, their guns shouldered, they stood ready to repel

any attack.

They had no doubt about it themselves! Ayrton, surprised by the pirates,

had been murdered, and, perhaps, the wretches would profit by the night

to make a descent on the island!

Half an hour was passed in terrible anxiety. The firing had ceased, and

yet neither Ayrton nor Pencroft had reappeared. Was the islet invaded?

Ought they not to fly to the help of Ayrton and Pencroft? But how? The

tide being high at that time, rendered the channel impassable. The boat

was not there! We may imagine the horrible anxiety which took possession

of Harding and his companions!

At last, towards half-past twelve, a boat, carrying two men, touched the

beach. It was Ayrton, slightly wounded in the shoulder, and Pencroft,

safe and sound, whom their friends received with open arms.

All immediately took refuge in the Chimneys. There Ayrton recounted all

that had passed, even to his plan for blowing up the brig, which he had

attempted to put into execution.

All hands were extended to Ayrton, who did not conceal from them that

their situation was serious. The pirates had been alarmed. They knew

that Lincoln Island was inhabited. They would land upon it in numbers

and well armed. They would respect nothing. Should the settlers fall

into their hands, they must expect no mercy!

“Well, we shall know how to die!” said the reporter.

“Let us go in and watch,” answered the engineer.

“Have we any chance of escape, captain?” asked the sailor.

“Yes, Pencroft.”

“Hum! six against fifty!”

“Yes! six! without counting--”

“Who?” asked Pencroft.

Cyrus did not reply, but pointed upwards.

Chapter 3

The night passed without incident. The colonists were on the qui vive,

and did not leave their post at the Chimneys. The pirates, on their

side, did not appear to have made any attempt to land. Since the last

shots fired at Ayrton not a report, not even a sound, had betrayed the

presence of the brig in the neighborhood of the island. It might have

been fancied that she had weighed anchor, thinking that she had to deal

with her match, and had left the coast.

But it was no such thing, and when day began to dawn the settlers could

see a confused mass through the morning mist. It was the “Speedy.”

“These, my friends,” said the engineer, “are the arrangements which

appear to me best to make before the fog completely clears away. It

hides us from the eyes of the pirates, and we can act without attracting

their attention. The most important thing is, that the convicts

should believe that the inhabitants of the island are numerous, and

consequently capable of resisting them. I therefore propose that we

divide into three parties. The first of which shall be posted at the

Chimneys, the second at the mouth of the Mercy. As to the third, I think

it would be best to place it on the islet, so as to prevent, or at all

events delay, any attempt at landing. We have the use of two rifles and

four muskets. Each of us will be armed, and, as we are amply provided

with powder and shot, we need not spare our fire. We have nothing to

fear from the muskets nor even from the guns of the brig. What can they

do against these rocks? And, as we shall not fire from the windows of

Granite House, the pirates will not think of causing irreparable damage

by throwing shell against it. What is to be feared is, the necessity of

meeting hand-to-hand, since the convicts have numbers on their side. We

must therefore try to prevent them from landing, but without discovering

ourselves. Therefore, do not economize the ammunition. Fire often, but

with a sure aim. We have each eight or ten enemies to kill, and they

must be killed!”

Cyrus Harding had clearly represented their situation, although he spoke

in the calmest voice, as if it was a question of directing a piece

of work and not ordering a battle. His companions approved these

arrangements without even uttering a word. There was nothing more to be

done but for each to take his place before the fog should be completely

dissipated. Neb and Pencroft immediately ascended to Granite House and

brought back a sufficient quantity of ammunition. Gideon Spilett and

Ayrton, both very good marksmen, were armed with the two rifles,

which carried nearly a mile. The four other muskets were divided among

Harding, Neb, Pencroft, and Herbert.

The posts were arranged in the following manner:--

Cyrus Harding and Herbert remained in ambush at the Chimneys, thus

commanding the shore to the foot of Granite House.

Gideon Spilett and Neb crouched among the rocks at the mouth of the

Mercy, from which the drawbridges had been raised, so as to prevent any

one from crossing in a boat or landing on the opposite shore.

As to Ayrton and Pencroft, they shoved off in the boat, and prepared to

cross the channel and to take up two separate stations on the islet.

In this way, shots being fired from four different points at once,

the convicts would be led to believe that the island was both largely

peopled and strongly defended.

In the event of a landing being effected without their having been able

to prevent it, and also if they saw that they were on the point of being

cut off by the brig’s boat, Ayrton and Pencroft were to return in their

boat to the shore and proceed towards the threatened spot.

Before starting to occupy their posts, the colonists for the last time

wrung each other’s hands.

Pencroft succeeded in controlling himself sufficiently to suppress his

emotion when he embraced Herbert, his boy! and then they separated.

In a few moments Harding and Herbert on one side, the reporter and Neb

on the other, had disappeared behind the rocks, and five minutes later

Ayrton and Pencroft, having without difficulty crossed the channel,

disembarked on the islet and concealed themselves in the clefts of its

eastern shore.

None of them could have been seen, for they themselves could scarcely

distinguish the brig in the fog.

It was half-past six in the morning.

Soon the fog began to clear away, and the topmasts of the brig issued

from the vapor. For some minutes great masses rolled over the surface of

the sea, then a breeze sprang up, which rapidly dispelled the mist.

The “Speedy” now appeared in full view, with a spring on her cable, her

head to the north, presenting her larboard side to the island. Just as

Harding had calculated, she was not more than a mile and a quarter from

the coast.

The sinister black flag floated from the peak.

The engineer, with his telescope, could see that the four guns on board

were pointed at the island. They were evidently ready to fire at a

moment’s notice.

In the meanwhile the “Speedy” remained silent. About thirty pirates

could be seen moving on the deck. A few more on the poop; two others

posted in the shrouds, and armed with spyglasses, were attentively

surveying the island.

Certainly, Bob Harvey and his crew would not be able easily to give an

account of what had happened during the night on board the brig. Had

this half-naked man, who had forced the door of the powder-magazine, and

with whom they had struggled, who had six times discharged his revolver

at them, who had killed one and wounded two others, escaped their shot?

Had he been able to swim to shore? Whence did he come? What had been his

object? Had his design really been to blow up the brig, as Bob Harvey

had thought? All this must be confused enough to the convicts’ minds.

But what they could no longer doubt was that the unknown island before

which the “Speedy” had cast anchor was inhabited, and that there was,

perhaps, a numerous colony ready to defend it. And yet no one was to be

seen, neither on the shore, nor on the heights. The beach appeared to be

absolutely deserted. At any rate, there was no trace of dwellings. Had

the inhabitants fled into the interior? Thus probably the pirate captain

reasoned, and doubtless, like a prudent man, he wished to reconnoiter

the locality before he allowed his men to venture there.

During an hour and a half, no indication of attack or landing could be

observed on board the brig. Evidently Bob Harvey was hesitating. Even

with his strongest telescopes he could not have perceived one of the

settlers crouched among the rocks. It was not even probable that his

attention had been awakened by the screen of green branches and creepers

hiding the windows of Granite House, and showing rather conspicuously on

the bare rock. Indeed, how could he imagine that a dwelling was hollowed

out, at that height, in the solid granite? From Claw Cape to the

Mandible Capes, in all the extent of Union Bay, there was nothing to

lead him to suppose that the island was or could be inhabited.

At eight o’clock, however, the colonists observed a movement on board

the “Speedy.” A boat was lowered, and seven men jumped into her. They

were armed with muskets; one took the yoke-lines, four others the oars,

and the two others, kneeling in the bows, ready to fire, reconnoitered

the island. Their object was no doubt to make an examination but not to

land, for in the latter case they would have come in larger numbers. The

pirates from their look-out could have seen that the coast was sheltered

by an islet, separated from it by a channel half a mile in width.

However, it was soon evident to Cyrus Harding, on observing the

direction followed by the boat, that they would not attempt to penetrate

into the channel, but would land on the islet.

Pencroft and Ayrton, each hidden in a narrow cleft of the rock, saw them

coming directly towards them, and waited till they were within range.

The boat advanced with extreme caution. The oars only dipped into the

water at long intervals. It could now be seen that one of the convicts

held a lead-line in his hand, and that he wished to fathom the depth of

the channel hollowed out by the current of the Mercy. This showed that

it was Bob Harvey’s intention to bring his brig as near as possible

to the coast. About thirty pirates, scattered in the rigging, followed

every movement of the boat, and took the bearings of certain landmarks

which would allow them to approach without danger. The boat was not more

than two cables-lengths off the islet when she stopped. The man at the

tiller stood up and looked for the best place at which to land.

At that moment two shots were heard. Smoke curled up from among the

rocks of the islet. The man at the helm and the man with the lead-line

fell backwards into the boat. Ayrton’s and Pencroft’s balls had struck

them both at the same moment.

Almost immediately a louder report was heard, a cloud of smoke issued

from the brig’s side, and a ball, striking the summit of the rock which

sheltered Ayrton and Pencroft, made it fly in splinters, but the two

marksmen remained unhurt.

Horrible imprecations burst from the boat, which immediately continued

its way. The man who had been at the tiller was replaced by one of his

comrades, and the oars were rapidly plunged into the water. However,

instead of returning on board as might have been expected, the boat

coasted along the islet, so as to round its southern point. The pirates

pulled vigorously at their oars that they might get out of range of the

bullets.

They advanced to within five cables-lengths of that part of the

shore terminated by Flotsam Point, and after having rounded it in a

semicircular line, still protected by the brig’s guns, they proceeded

towards the mouth of the Mercy.

Their evident intention was to penetrate into the channel, and cut off

the colonists posted on the islet, in such a way, that whatever their

number might be, being placed between the fire from the boat and the

fire from the brig, they would find themselves in a very disadvantageous

position.

A quarter of an hour passed while the boat advanced in this direction.

Absolute silence, perfect calm reigned in the air and on the water.

Pencroft and Ayrton, although they knew they ran the risk of being

cut off, had not left their post, both that they did not wish to show

themselves as yet to their assailants, and expose themselves to the

“Speedy’s” guns, and that they relied on Neb and Gideon Spilett,

watching at the mouth of the river, and on Cyrus Harding and Herbert, in

ambush among the rocks at the Chimneys.

Twenty minutes after the first shots were fired, the boat was less than

two cables-lengths off the Mercy. As the tide was beginning to rise with

its accustomed violence, caused by the narrowness of the straits, the

pirates were drawn towards the river, and it was only by dint of hard

rowing that they were able to keep in the middle of the channel. But, as

they were passing within good range of the mouth of the Mercy, two balls

saluted them, and two more of their number were laid in the bottom of

the boat. Neb and Spilett had not missed their aim.

The brig immediately sent a second ball on the post betrayed by the

smoke, but without any other result than that of splintering the rock.

The boat now contained only three able men. Carried on by the current,

it shot through the channel with the rapidity of an arrow, passed before

Harding and Herbert, who, not thinking it within range, withheld their

fire, then, rounding the northern point of the islet with the two

remaining oars, they pulled towards the brig.

Hitherto the settlers had nothing to complain of. Their adversaries

had certainly had the worst of it. The latter already counted four men

seriously wounded if not dead; they, on the contrary, unwounded, had not

missed a shot. If the pirates continued to attack them in this way, if

they renewed their attempt to land by means of a boat, they could be

destroyed one by one.

It was now seen how advantageous the engineer’s arrangements had

been. The pirates would think that they had to deal with numerous and

well-armed adversaries, whom they could not easily get the better of.

Half an hour passed before the boat, having to pull against the current,

could get alongside the “Speedy.” Frightful cries were heard when they

returned on board with the wounded, and two or three guns were fired

with no results.

But now about a dozen other convicts, maddened with rage, and possibly

by the effect of the evening’s potations, threw themselves into the

boat. A second boat was also lowered, in which eight men took their

places, and while the first pulled straight for the islet, to dislodge

the colonists from thence the second maneuvered so as to force the

entrance of the Mercy.

The situation was evidently becoming very dangerous for Pencroft and

Ayrton, and they saw that they must regain the mainland.

However, they waited till the first boat was within range, when two

well-directed balls threw its crew into disorder. Then, Pencroft and

Ayrton, abandoning their posts, under fire from the dozen muskets, ran

across the islet at full speed, jumped into their boat, crossed the

channel at the moment the second boat reached the southern end, and ran

to hide themselves in the Chimneys.

They had scarcely rejoined Cyrus Harding and Herbert, before the islet

was overrun with pirates in every direction. Almost at the same moment,

fresh reports resounded from the Mercy station, to which the second boat

was rapidly approaching. Two, out of the eight men who manned her,

were mortally wounded by Gideon Spilett and Neb, and the boat herself,

carried irresistibly onto the reefs, was stove in at the mouth of the

Mercy. But the six survivors, holding their muskets above their heads to

preserve them from contact with the water, managed to land on the right

bank of the river. Then, finding they were exposed to the fire of the

ambush there, they fled in the direction of Flotsam Point, out of range

of the balls.

The actual situation was this: on the islet were a dozen convicts,

of whom some were no doubt wounded, but who had still a boat at their

disposal; on the island were six, but who could not by any possibility

reach Granite House, as they could not cross the river, all the bridges

being raised.

“Hallo,” exclaimed Pencroft as he rushed into the Chimneys, “hallo,

captain! What do you think of it, now?”

“I think,” answered the engineer, “that the combat will now take a new

form, for it cannot be supposed that the convicts will be so foolish as

to remain in a position so unfavorable for them!”

“They won’t cross the channel,” said the sailor. “Ayrton and Mr.

Spilett’s rifles are there to prevent them. You know that they carry

more than a mile!”

“No doubt,” replied Herbert; “but what can two rifles do against the

brig’s guns?”

“Well, the brig isn’t in the channel yet, I fancy!” said Pencroft.

“But suppose she does come there?” said Harding.

“That’s impossible, for she would risk running aground and being lost!”

“It is possible,” said Ayrton. “The convicts might profit by the high

tide to enter the channel, with the risk of grounding at low tide, it

is true; but then, under the fire from her guns, our posts would be no

longer tenable.”

“Confound them!” exclaimed Pencroft, “it really seems as if the

blackguards were preparing to weigh anchor.”

“Perhaps we shall be obliged to take refuge in Granite House!” observed

Herbert.

“We must wait!” answered Cyrus Harding.

“But Mr. Spilett and Neb?” said Pencroft.

“They will know when it is best to rejoin us. Be ready, Ayrton. It is

yours and Spilett’s rifles which must speak now.”

It was only too true. The “Speedy” was beginning to weigh her anchor,

and her intention was evidently to approach the islet. The tide would

be rising for an hour and a half, and the ebb current being already

weakened, it would be easy for the brig to advance. But as to entering

the channel, Pencroft, contrary to Ayrton’s opinion, could not believe

that she would dare to attempt it.

In the meanwhile, the pirates who occupied the islet had gradually

advanced to the opposite shore, and were now only separated from the

mainland by the channel.

Being armed with muskets alone, they could do no harm to the settlers,

in ambush at the Chimneys and the mouth of the Mercy; but, not knowing

the latter to be supplied with long-range rifles, they on their side did

not believe themselves to be exposed. Quite uncovered, therefore, they

surveyed the islet, and examined the shore.

Their illusion was of short duration. Ayrton’s and Gideon Spilett’s

rifles then spoke, and no doubt imparted some very disagreeable

intelligence to two of the convicts, for they fell backwards.

Then there was a general helter-skelter. The ten others, not even

stopping to pick up their dead or wounded companions, fled to the other

side of the islet, tumbled into the boat which had brought them, and

pulled away with all their strength.

“Eight less!” exclaimed Pencroft. “Really, one would have thought that

Mr. Spilett and Ayrton had given the word to fire together!”

“Gentlemen,” said Ayrton, as he reloaded his gun, “this is becoming more

serious. The brig is making sail!”

“The anchor is weighed!” exclaimed Pencroft.

“Yes, and she is already moving.”

In fact, they could distinctly hear the creaking of the windlass. The

“Speedy” was at first held by her anchor; then, when that had been

raised, she began to drift towards the shore. The wind was blowing

from the sea; the jib and the foretopsail were hoisted, and the vessel

gradually approached the island.

From the two posts of the Mercy and the Chimneys they watched her

without giving a sign of life, but not without some emotion. What

could be more terrible for the colonists than to be exposed, at a short

distance, to the brig’s guns, without being able to reply with any

effect? How could they then prevent the pirates from landing?

Cyrus Harding felt this strongly, and he asked himself what it would

be possible to do. Before long, he would be called upon for his

determination. But what was it to be? To shut themselves up in Granite

House, to be besieged there, to remain there for weeks, for months even,

since they had an abundance of provisions? So far good! But after that?

The pirates would not the less be masters of the island, which they

would ravage at their pleasure, and in time, they would end by having

their revenge on the prisoners in Granite House.

However, one chance yet remained; it was that Bob Harvey, after all,

would not venture his ship into the channel, and that he would keep

outside the islet. He would be still separated from the coast by half a

mile, and at that distance his shot could not be very destructive.

“Never!” repeated Pencroft, “Bob Harvey will never, if he is a good

seaman, enter that channel! He knows well that it would risk the brig,

if the sea got up ever so little! And what would become of him without

his vessel?”

In the meanwhile the brig approached the islet, and it could be seen

that she was endeavoring to make the lower end. The breeze was light,

and as the current had then lost much of its force, Bob Harvey had

absolute command over his vessel.

The route previously followed by the boats had allowed her to

reconnoiter the channel, and she boldly entered it.

The pirate’s design was now only too evident; he wished to bring her

broadside to bear on the Chimneys and from there to reply with shell and

ball to the shot which had till then decimated her crew.

Soon the “Speedy” reached the point of the islet; she rounded it with

ease; the mainsail was braced up, and the brig hugging the wind, stood

across the mouth of the Mercy.

“The scoundrels! they are coming!” said Pencroft.

At that moment, Cyrus Harding, Ayrton, the sailor, and Herbert, were

rejoined by Neb and Gideon Spilett.

The reporter and his companion had judged it best to abandon the post at

the Mercy, from which they could do nothing against the ship, and they

had acted wisely. It was better that the colonists should be together at

the moment when they were about to engage in a decisive action. Gideon

Spilett and Neb had arrived by dodging behind the rocks, though not

without attracting a shower of bullets, which had not, however, reached

them.

“Spilett! Neb!” cried the engineer. “You are not wounded?”

“No,” answered the reporter, “a few bruises only from the ricochet! But

that cursed brig has entered the channel!”

“Yes,” replied Pencroft, “and in ten minutes she will have anchored

before Granite House!”

“Have you formed any plan, Cyrus?” asked the reporter.

“We must take refuge in Granite House while there is still time, and the

convicts cannot see us.”

“That is, my opinion, too,” replied Gideon Spilett, “but once shut up--”

“We must be guided by circumstances,” said the engineer.

“Let us be off, then, and make haste!” said the reporter.

“Would you not wish, captain, that Ayrton and I should remain here?”

asked the sailor.

“What would be the use of that, Pencroft?” replied Harding. “No. We will

not separate!”

There was not a moment to be lost. The colonists left the Chimneys. A

bend of the cliff prevented them from being seen by those in the brig,

but two or three reports, and the crash of bullets on the rock, told

them that the “Speedy” was at no great distance.

To spring into the lift, hoist themselves up to the door of Granite

House, where Top and Jup had been shut up since the evening before, to

rush into the large room, was the work of a minute only.

It was quite time, for the settlers, through the branches, could see the

“Speedy,” surrounded with smoke, gliding up the channel. The firing was

incessant, and shot from the four guns struck blindly, both on the Mercy

post, although it was not occupied, and on the Chimneys. The rocks were

splintered, and cheers accompanied each discharge. However, they

were hoping that Granite House would be spared, thanks to Harding’s

precaution of concealing the windows when a shot, piercing the door,

penetrated into the passage.

“We are discovered!” exclaimed Pencroft.

The colonists had not, perhaps, been seen, but it was certain that Bob

Harvey had thought proper to send a ball through the suspected foliage

which concealed that part of the cliff. Soon he redoubled his attack,

when another ball having torn away the leafy screen, disclosed a gaping

aperture in the granite.

The colonists’ situation was desperate. Their retreat was discovered.

They could not oppose any obstacle to these missiles, nor protect the

stone, which flew in splinters around them. There was nothing to be

done but to take refuge in the upper passage of Granite House, and leave

their dwelling to be devastated, when a deep roar was heard, followed by

frightful cries!

Cyrus Harding and his companions rushed to one of the windows--

The brig, irresistibly raised on a sort of water-spout, had just split

in two, and in less than ten seconds she was swallowed up with all her

criminal crew!

Chapter 4

“She has blown up!” cried Herbert.

“Yes! blown up, just as if Ayrton had set fire to the powder!” returned

Pencroft, throwing himself into the lift together with Neb and the lad.

“But what has happened?” asked Gideon Spilett, quite stunned by this

unexpected catastrophe.

“Oh! this time, we shall know--” answered the engineer quickly.

“What shall we know?--”

“Later! later! Come, Spilett. The main point is that these pirates have

been exterminated!”

And Cyrus Harding, hurrying away the reporter and Ayrton, joined

Pencroft, Neb, and Herbert on the beach.

Nothing could be seen of the brig, not even her masts. After having been

raised by the water-spout, she had fallen on her side, and had sunk in

that position, doubtless in consequence of some enormous leak. But as

in that place the channel was not more than twenty feet in depth, it

was certain that the sides of the submerged brig would reappear at low

water.

A few things from the wreck floated on the surface of the water, a raft

could be seen consisting of spare spars, coops of poultry with their

occupants still living, boxes and barrels, which gradually came to the

surface, after having escaped through the hatchways, but no pieces of

the wreck appeared, neither planks from the deck, nor timber from the

hull,--which rendered the sudden disappearance of the “Speedy” perfectly

inexplicable.

However, the two masts, which had been broken and escaped from the

shrouds and stays came up, and with their sails, some furled and the

others spread. But it was not necessary to wait for the tide to bring

up these riches, and Ayrton and Pencroft jumped into the boat with the

intention of towing the pieces of wreck either to the beach or to the

islet. But just as they were shoving off, an observation from Gideon

Spilett arrested them.

“What about those six convicts who disembarked on the right bank of the

Mercy?” said he.

In fact, it would not do to forget that the six men whose boat had gone

to pieces on the rocks had landed at Flotsam Point.

They looked in that direction. None of the fugitives were visible. It

was probable that, having seen their vessel engulfed in the channel,

they had fled into the interior of the island.

“We will deal with them later,” said Harding. “As they are armed, they

will still be dangerous; but as it is six against six, the chances are

equal. To the most pressing business first.”

Ayrton and Pencroft pulled vigorously towards the wreck.

The sea was calm and the tide very high, as there had been a new moon

but two days before. A whole hour at least would elapse before the hull

of the brig could emerge from the water of the channel.

Ayrton and Pencroft were able to fasten the masts and spars by means of

ropes, the ends of which were carried to the beach. There, by the united

efforts of the settlers the pieces of wreck were hauled up. Then the

boat picked up all that was floating, coops, barrels, and boxes, which

were immediately carried to the Chimneys.

Several bodies floated also. Among them, Ayrton recognized that of

Bob Harvey, which he pointed out to his companion, saying with some

emotion,--

“That is what I have been, Pencroft.”

“But what you are no longer, brave Ayrton!” returned the sailor warmly.

It was singular enough that so few bodies floated. Only five or six were

counted, which were already being carried by the current towards the

open sea. Very probably the convicts had not had time to escape, and

the ship lying over on her side, the greater number of them had remained

below. Now the current, by carrying the bodies of these miserable men

out to sea, would spare the colonists the sad task of burying them in

some corner of their island.

For two hours, Cyrus Harding and his companions were solely occupied

in hauling up the spars on to the sand, and then in spreading the sails

which were perfectly uninjured, to dry. They spoke little, for they were

absorbed in their work, but what thoughts occupied their minds!

The possession of this brig, or rather all that she contained, was

a perfect mine of wealth. In fact, a ship is like a little world in

miniature, and the stores of the colony would be increased by a large

number of useful articles. It would be, on a large scale, equivalent to

the chest found at Flotsam Point.

“And besides,” thought Pencroft, “why should it be impossible to refloat

the brig? If she has only a leak, that may be stopped up; a vessel from

three to four hundred tons, why she is a regular ship compared to our

‘Bonadventure’! And we could go a long distance in her! We could go

anywhere we liked! Captain Harding, Ayrton and I must examine her! She

would be well worth the trouble!”

In fact, if the brig was still fit to navigate, the colonists’ chances

of returning to their native land were singularly increased. But, to

decide this important question, it was necessary to wait until the tide

was quite low, so that every part of the brig’s hull might be examined.

When their treasures had been safely conveyed on shore, Harding and his

companions agreed to devote some minutes to breakfast. They were almost

famished; fortunately, the larder was not far off, and Neb was noted

for being an expeditious cook. They breakfasted, therefore, near the

Chimneys, and during their repast, as may be supposed, nothing was

talked of but the event which had so miraculously saved the colony.

“Miraculous is the word,” repeated Pencroft, “for it must be

acknowledged that those rascals blew up just at the right moment!

Granite House was beginning to be uncomfortable as a habitation!”

“And can you guess, Pencroft,” asked the reporter, “how it happened, or

what can have occasioned the explosion?”

“Oh! Mr. Spilett, nothing is more simple,” answered Pencroft. “A convict

vessel is not disciplined like a man-of-war! Convicts are not sailors.

Of course the powder-magazine was open, and as they were firing

incessantly, some careless or clumsy fellow just blew up the vessel!”

“Captain Harding,” said Herbert, “what astonishes me is that the

explosion has not produced more effect. The report was not loud, and

besides there are so few planks and timbers torn out. It seems as if the

ship had rather foundered than blown up.”

“Does that astonish you, my boy?” asked the engineer.

“Yes, captain.”

“And it astonishes me also, Herbert,” replied he, “but when we visit the

hull of the brig, we shall no doubt find the explanation of the matter.”

“Why, captain,” said Pencroft, “you don’t suppose that the ‘Speedy’

simply foundered like a ship which has struck on a rock?”

“Why not,” observed Neb, “if there are rocks in the channel?”

“Nonsense, Neb,” answered Pencroft, “you did not look at the right

moment. An instant before she sank, the brig, as I saw perfectly well,

rose on an enormous wave, and fell back on her larboard side. Now, if

she had only struck, she would have sunk quietly and gone to the bottom

like an honest vessel.”

“It was just because she was not an honest vessel!” returned Neb.

“Well, we shall soon see, Pencroft,” said the engineer.

“We shall soon see,” rejoined the sailor, “but I would wager my

head there are no rocks in the channel. Look here, captain, to speak

candidly, do you mean to say that there is anything marvelous in the

occurrence?”

Cyrus Harding did not answer.

“At any rate,” said Gideon Spilett, “whether rock or explosion, you will

agree, Pencroft, that it occurred just in the nick of time!”

“Yes! yes!” replied the sailor, “but that is not the question. I ask

Captain Harding if he sees anything supernatural in all this.”

“I cannot say, Pencroft,” said the engineer. “That is all the answer I

can make.”

A reply which did not satisfy Pencroft at all. He stuck to “an

explosion,” and did not wish to give it up. He would never consent

to admit that in that channel, with its fine sandy bed, just like

the beach, which he had often crossed at low water, there could be an

unknown rock.

And besides, at the time the brig foundered, it was high water, that is

to say, there was enough water to carry the vessel clear over any rocks

which would not be uncovered at low tide. Therefore, there could not

have been a collision. Therefore, the vessel had not struck. So she had

blown up.

And it must be confessed that the sailor’s arguments were reasonable.

Towards half-past one, the colonists embarked in the boat to visit the

wreck. It was to be regretted that the brig’s two boats had not been

saved; but one, as has been said, had gone to pieces at the mouth of the

Mercy, and was absolutely useless; the other had disappeared when the

brig went down, and had not again been seen, having doubtless been

crushed.

The hull of the “Speedy” was just beginning to issue from the water.

The brig was lying right over on her side, for her masts being broken,

pressed down by the weight of the ballast displaced by the shock, the

keel was visible along her whole length. She had been regularly turned

over by the inexplicable but frightful submarine action, which had been

at the same time manifested by an enormous water-spout.

The settlers rowed round the hull, and in proportion as the tide went

down, they could ascertain, if not the cause which had occasioned the

catastrophe, at least the effect produced.

Towards the bows, on both sides of the keel, seven or eight feet from

the beginning of the stem, the sides of the brig were frightfully torn.

Over a length of at least twenty feet there opened two large leaks,

which would be impossible to stop up. Not only had the copper sheathing

and the planks disappeared, reduced, no doubt, to powder, but also the

ribs, the iron bolts, and treenails which united them. From the entire

length of the hull to the stern the false keel had been separated with

an unaccountable violence, and the keel itself, torn from the carline in

several places, was split in all its length.

“I’ve a notion!” exclaimed Pencroft, “that this vessel will be difficult

to get afloat again.”

“It will be impossible,” said Ayrton.

“At any rate,” observed Gideon Spilett to the sailor, “the explosion,

if there has been one, has produced singular effects! It has split the

lower part of the hull, instead of blowing up the deck and topsides!

These great rents appear rather to have been made by a rock than by the

explosion of a powder-magazine.”

“There is not a rock in the channel!” answered the sailor. “I will admit

anything you like, except the rock.”

“Let us try to penetrate into the interior of the brig,” said the

engineer; “perhaps we shall then know what to think of the cause of her

destruction.”

This was the best thing to be done, and it was agreed, besides, to

take an inventory of all the treasures on board, and to arrange their

preservation.

Access to the interior of the brig was now easy. The tide was still

going down and the deck was practicable. The ballast, composed of heavy

masses of iron, had broken through in several places. The noise of the

sea could be heard as it rushed out at the holes in the hull.

Cyrus Harding and his companions, hatchets in hand, advanced along the

shattered deck. Cases of all sorts encumbered it, and, as they had

been but a very short time in the water, their contents were perhaps

uninjured.

They then busied themselves in placing all this cargo in safety. The

water would not return for several hours, and these hours must be

employed in the most profitable way. Ayrton and Pencroft had, at the

entrance made in the hull, discovered tackle, which would serve to hoist

up the barrels and chests. The boat received them and transported them

to the shore. They took the articles as they came, intending to sort

them afterwards.

At any rate, the settlers saw at once, with extreme satisfaction, that

the brig possessed a very varied cargo--an assortment of all sorts of

articles, utensils, manufactured goods, and tools--such as the ships

which make the great coasting-trade of Polynesia are usually laden with.

It was probable that they would find a little of everything, and they

agreed that it was exactly what was necessary for the colony of Lincoln

Island.

However--and Cyrus Harding observed it in silent astonishment--not only,

as has been said, had the hull of the brig enormously suffered from the

shock, whatever it was, that had occasioned the catastrophe, but the

interior arrangements had been destroyed, especially towards the bows.

Partitions and stanchions were smashed, as if some tremendous shell had

burst in the interior of the brig. The colonists could easily go fore

and aft, after having removed the cases as they were extricated. They

were not heavy bales, which would have been difficult to remove,

but simple packages, of which the stowage, besides, was no longer

recognizable.

The colonists then reached the stern of the brig--the part formerly

surmounted by the poop. It was there that, following Ayrton’s

directions, they must look for the powder-magazine. Cyrus Harding

thought that it had not exploded; that it was possible some barrels

might be saved, and that the powder, which is usually enclosed in metal

coverings might not have suffered from contact with the water.

This, in fact, was just what had happened. They extricated from among

a large number of shot twenty barrels, the insides of which were lined

with copper. Pencroft was convinced by the evidence of his own eyes that

the destruction of the “Speedy” could not be attributed to an explosion.

That part of the hull in which the magazine was situated was, moreover,

that which had suffered least.

“It may be so,” said the obstinate sailor; “but as to a rock, there is

not one in the channel!”

“Then, how did it happen?” asked Herbert.

“I don’t know,” answered Pencroft, “Captain Harding doesn’t know, and

nobody knows or ever will know!”

Several hours had passed during these researches, and the tide began to

flow. Work must be suspended for the present. There was no fear of the

brig being carried away by the sea, for she was already fixed as firmly

as if moored by her anchors.

They could, therefore, without inconvenience, wait until the next day to

resume operations; but, as to the vessel itself, she was doomed, and it

would be best to hasten to save the remains of her hull, as she would

not be long in disappearing in the quicksands of the channel.

It was now five o’clock in the evening. It had been a hard day’s work

for the men. They ate with good appetite, and notwithstanding their

fatigue, they could not resist, after dinner, their desire of inspecting

the cases which composed the cargo of the “Speedy.”

Most of them contained clothes, which, as may be believed, was well

received. There were enough to clothe a whole colony--linen for every

one’s use, shoes for every one’s feet.

“We are too rich!” exclaimed Pencroft, “But what are we going to do with

all this?”

And every moment burst forth the hurrahs of the delighted sailor when he

caught sight of the barrels of gunpowder, firearms and sidearms,

balls of cotton, implements of husbandry, carpenter’s, joiner’s, and

blacksmith’s tools, and boxes of all kinds of seeds, not in the least

injured by their short sojourn in the water. Ah, two years before,

how these things would have been prized! And now, even though the

industrious colonists had provided themselves with tools, these

treasures would find their use.

There was no want of space in the store-rooms of Granite House, but that

daytime would not allow them to stow away the whole. It would not do

also to forget that the six survivors of the “Speedy’s” crew had landed

on the island, for they were in all probability scoundrels of the

deepest dye, and it was necessary that the colonists should be on their

guard against them. Although the bridges over the Mercy were raised,

the convicts would not be stopped by a river or a stream and, rendered

desperate, these wretches would be capable of anything.

They would see later what plan it would be best to follow; but in the

meantime it was necessary to mount guard over cases and packages heaped

up near the Chimneys, and thus the settlers employed themselves in turn

during the night.

The morning came, however, without the convicts having attempted any

attack. Master Jup and Top, on guard at the foot of Granite House, would

have quickly given the alarm. The three following days--the 19th, 20th,

and 21st of October--were employed in saving everything of value, or of

any use whatever, either from the cargo or rigging of the brig. At low

tide they overhauled the hold--at high tide they stowed away the rescued

articles. A great part of the copper sheathing had been torn from the

hull, which every day sank lower. But before the sand had swallowed the

heavy things which had fallen through the bottom, Ayrton and Pencroft,

diving to the bed of the channel, recovered the chains and anchors of

the brig, the iron of her ballast, and even four guns, which, floated by

means of empty casks, were brought to shore.

It may be seen that the arsenal of the colony had gained by the

wreck, as well as the storerooms of Granite House. Pencroft, always

enthusiastic in his projects, already spoke of constructing a battery

to command the channel and the mouth of the river. With four guns,

he engaged to prevent any fleet, “however powerful it might be,” from

venturing into the waters of Lincoln Island!

In the meantime, when nothing remained of the brig but a useless hulk,

bad weather came on, which soon finished her. Cyrus Harding had intended

to blow her up, so as to collect the remains on the shore, but a strong

gale from the northeast and a heavy sea compelled him to economize his

powder.

In fact, on the night of the 23rd, the hull entirely broke up, and some

of the wreck was cast up on the beach.

As to the papers on board, it is useless to say that, although he

carefully searched the lockers of the poop, Harding did not discover

any trace of them. The pirates had evidently destroyed everything that

concerned either the captain or the owners of the “Speedy,” and, as the

name of her port was not painted on her counter, there was nothing which

would tell them her nationality. However, by the shape of her boats

Ayrton and Pencroft believed that the brig was of English build.

A week after the castrophe--or, rather, after the fortunate, though

inexplicable, event to which the colony owed its preservation--nothing

more could be seen of the vessel, even at low tide. The wreck had

disappeared, and Granite House was enriched by nearly all it had

contained.

However, the mystery which enveloped its strange destruction would

doubtless never have been cleared away if, on the 30th of November, Neb,

strolling on the beach, had not found a piece of a thick iron cylinder,

bearing traces of explosion. The edges of this cylinder were twisted and

broken, as if they had been subjected to the action of some explosive

substance.

Neb brought this piece of metal to his master, who was then occupied

with his companions in the workshop of the Chimneys.

Cyrus Harding examined the cylinder attentively, then, turning to

Pencroft,--

“You persist, my friend,” said he, “in maintaining that the ‘Speedy’ was

not lost in consequence of a collision?”

“Yes, captain,” answered the sailor. “You know as well as I do that

there are no rocks in the channel.”

“But suppose she had run against this piece of iron?” said the engineer,

showing the broken cylinder.

“What, that bit of pipe!” exclaimed Pencroft in a tone of perfect

incredulity.

“My friends,” resumed Harding, “you remember that before she foundered

the brig rose on the summit of a regular waterspout?”

“Yes, captain,” replied Herbert.

“Well, would you like to know what occasioned that waterspout? It was

this,” said the engineer, holding up the broken tube.

“That?” returned Pencroft.

“Yes! This cylinder is all that remains of a torpedo!”

“A torpedo!” exclaimed the engineer’s companions.

“And who put the torpedo there?” demanded Pencroft, who did not like to

yield.

“All that I can tell you is, that it was not I,” answered Cyrus Harding;

“but it was there, and you have been able to judge of its incomparable

power!”

Chapter 5

So, then, all was explained by the submarine explosion of this torpedo.

Cyrus Harding could not be mistaken, as, during the war of the Union,

he had had occasion to try these terrible engines of destruction. It

was under the action of this cylinder, charged with some explosive

substance, nitro-glycerine, picrate, or some other material of the same

nature, that the water of the channel had been raised like a dome, the

bottom of the brig crushed in, and she had sunk instantly, the damage

done to her hull being so considerable that it was impossible to refloat

her. The “Speedy” had not been able to withstand a torpedo that would

have destroyed an ironclad as easily as a fishing-boat!

Yes! all was explained, everything--except the presence of the torpedo

in the waters of the channel!

“My friends, then,” said Cyrus Harding, “we can no longer be in doubt

as to the presence of a mysterious being, a castaway like us, perhaps,

abandoned on our island, and I say this in order that Ayrton may be

acquainted with all the strange events which have occurred during these

two years. Who this beneficent stranger is, whose intervention has, so

fortunately for us, been manifested on many occasions, I cannot imagine.

What his object can be in acting thus, in concealing himself after

rendering us so many services, I cannot understand: But his services are

not the less real, and are of such a nature that only a man possessed of

prodigious power, could render them. Ayrton is indebted to him as much

as we are, for, if it was the stranger who saved me from the waves after

the fall from the balloon, evidently it was he who wrote the document,

who placed the bottle in the channel, and who has made known to us the

situation of our companion. I will add that it was he who guided that

chest, provided with everything we wanted, and stranded it on Flotsam

Point; that it was he who lighted that fire on the heights of the

island, which permitted you to land; that it was he who fired that

bullet found in the body of the peccary; that it was he who plunged that

torpedo into the channel, which destroyed the brig; in a word, that all

those inexplicable events, for which we could not assign a reason, are

due to this mysterious being. Therefore, whoever he may be, whether

shipwrecked, or exiled on our island, we shall be ungrateful, if we

think ourselves freed from gratitude towards him. We have contracted a

debt, and I hope that we shall one day pay it.”

“You are right in speaking thus, my dear Cyrus,” replied Gideon Spilett.

“Yes, there is an almost all-powerful being, hidden in some part of the

island, and whose influence has been singularly useful to our colony.

I will add that the unknown appears to possess means of action which

border on the supernatural, if in the events of practical life the

supernatural were recognizable. Is it he who is in secret communication

with us by the well in Granite House, and has he thus a knowledge of all

our plans? Was it he who threw us that bottle, when the vessel made her

first cruise? Was it he who threw Top out of the lake, and killed the

dugong? Was it he, who as everything leads us to believe, saved you from

the waves, and that under circumstances in which any one else would not

have been able to act? If it was he, he possesses a power which renders

him master of the elements.”

The reporter’s reasoning was just, and every one felt it to be so.

“Yes,” rejoined Cyrus Harding, “if the intervention of a human being is

not more questionable for us, I agree that he has at his disposal means

of action beyond those possessed by humanity. There is a mystery still,

but if we discover the man, the mystery will be discovered also. The

question, then, is, ought we to respect the incognito of this generous

being, or ought we to do everything to find him out? What is your

opinion on the matter?”

“My opinion,” said Pencroft, “is that, whoever he may be, he is a brave

man, and he has my esteem!”

“Be it so,” answered Harding, “but that is not an answer, Pencroft.”

“Master,” then said Neb, “my idea is, that we may search as long as we

like for this gentleman whom you are talking about, but that we shall

not discover him till he pleases.”

“That’s not bad, what you say, Neb,” observed Pencroft.

“I am of Neb’s opinion,” said Gideon Spilett, “but that is no reason for

not attempting the adventure. Whether we find this mysterious being or

not, we shall at least have fulfilled our duty towards him.”

“And you, my boy, give us your opinion,” said the engineer, turning to

Herbert.

“Oh,” cried Herbert, his countenance full of animation, “how I should

like to thank him, he who saved you first, and who has now saved us!”

“Of course, my boy,” replied Pencroft, “so would I and all of us. I am

not inquisitive, but I would give one of my eyes to see this individual

face to face! It seems to me that he must be handsome, tall, strong,

with a splendid beard, radiant hair, and that he must be seated on

clouds, a great ball in his hands!”

“But, Pencroft,” answered Spilett, “you are describing a picture of the

Creator.”

“Possibly, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “but that is how I imagine

him!”

“And you, Ayrton?” asked the engineer.

“Captain Harding,” replied Ayrton, “I can give you no better advice in

this matter. Whatever you do will be best; when you wish me to join you

in your researches, I am ready to follow you.

“I thank you, Ayrton,” answered Cyrus Harding, “but I should like a more

direct answer to the question I put to you. You are our companion; you

have already endangered your life several times for us, and you, as

well as the rest, ought to be consulted in the matter of any important

decision. Speak, therefore.”

“Captain Harding,” replied Ayrton, “I think that we ought to do

everything to discover this unknown benefactor. Perhaps he is alone.

Perhaps he is suffering. Perhaps he has a life to be renewed. I, too,

as you said, have a debt of gratitude to pay him. It was he, it could be

only he who must have come to Tabor Island, who found there the wretch

you knew, and who made known to you that there was an unfortunate man

there to be saved. Therefore it is, thanks to him, that I have become a

man again. No, I will never forget him!”

“That is settled, then,” said Cyrus Harding. “We will begin our

researches as soon as possible. We will not leave a corner of the island

unexplored. We will search into its most secret recesses, and will

hope that our unknown friend will pardon us in consideration of our

intentions!”

For several days the colonists were actively employed in haymaking and

the harvest. Before putting their project of exploring the yet unknown

parts of the island into execution, they wished to get all possible work

finished. It was also the time for collecting the various vegetables

from the Tabor Island plants. All was stowed away, and happily there was

no want of room in Granite House, in which they might have housed all

the treasures of the island. The products of the colony were there,

methodically arranged, and in a safe place, as may be believed,

sheltered as much from animals as from man.

There was no fear of damp in the middle of that thick mass of granite.

Many natural excavations situated in the upper passage were enlarged

either by pick-axe or mine, and Granite House thus became a general

warehouse, containing all the provisions, arms, tools, and spare

utensils--in a word, all the stores of the colony.

As to the guns obtained from the brig, they were pretty pieces of

ordnance, which, at Pencroft’s entreaty, were hoisted by means of tackle

and pulleys, right up into Granite House; embrasures were made between

the windows, and the shining muzzles of the guns could soon be seen

through the granite cliff. From this height they commanded all Union

Bay. It was like a little Gibraltar, and any vessel anchored off the

islet would inevitably be exposed to the fire of this aerial battery.

“Captain,” said Pencroft one day, it was the 8th of November, “now that

our fortifications are finished, it would be a good thing if we tried

the range of our guns.”

“Do you think that is useful?” asked the engineer.

“It is more than useful, it is necessary! Without that how are we to

know to what distance we can send one of those pretty shot with which we

are provided?”

“Try them, Pencroft,” replied the engineer. “However, I think that in

making the experiment, we ought to employ, not the ordinary powder,

the supply of which, I think, should remain untouched, but the pyroxyle

which will never fail us.”

“Can the cannon support the shock of the pyroxyle?” asked the reporter,

who was not less anxious than Pencroft to try the artillery of Granite

House.

“I believe so. However,” added the engineer, “we will be prudent.” The

engineer was right in thinking that the guns were of excellent make.

Made of forged steel, and breech-loaders, they ought consequently to be

able to bear a considerable charge, and also have an enormous range.

In fact, as regards practical effect, the transit described by the ball

ought to be as extended as possible, and this tension could only be

obtained under the condition that the projectile should be impelled with

a very great initial velocity.

“Now,” said Harding to his companions, “the initial velocity is in

proportion to the quantity of powder used. In the fabrication of

these pieces, everything depends on employing a metal with the highest

possible power of resistance, and steel is incontestably that metal of

all others which resists the best. I have, therefore, reason to believe

that our guns will bear without risk the expansion of the pyroxyle gas,

and will give excellent results.”

“We shall be a great deal more certain of that when we have tried them!”

answered Pencroft.

It is unnecessary to say that the four cannons were in perfect order.

Since they had been taken from the water, the sailor had bestowed great

care upon them. How many hours he had spent, in rubbing, greasing, and

polishing them, and in cleaning the mechanism! And now the pieces were

as brilliant as if they had been on board a frigate of the United States

Navy.

On this day, therefore, in presence of all the members of the colony,

including Master Jup and Top, the four cannon were successively tried.

They were charged with pyroxyle, taking into consideration its explosive

power, which, as has been said, is four times that of ordinary powder:

the projectile to be fired was cylindroconic.

Pencroft, holding the end of the quick-match, stood ready to fire.

At Harding’s signal, he fired. The shot, passing over the islet,

fell into the sea at a distance which could not be calculated with

exactitude.

The second gun was pointed at the rocks at the end of Flotsam Point, and

the shot striking a sharp rock nearly three miles from Granite House,

made it fly into splinters. It was Herbert who had pointed this gun and

fired it, and very proud he was of his first shot. Pencroft only was

prouder than he! Such a shot, the honor of which belonged to his dear

boy.

The third shot, aimed this time at the downs forming the upper side

of Union Bay, struck the sand at a distance of four miles, then having

ricocheted: was lost in the sea in a cloud of spray.

For the fourth piece Cyrus Harding slightly increased the charge, so

as to try its extreme range. Then, all standing aside for fear of its

bursting, the match was lighted by means of a long cord.

A tremendous report was heard, but the piece had held good, and the

colonists rushing to the windows, saw the shot graze the rocks of

Mandible Cape, nearly five miles from Granite House, and disappear in

Shark Gulf.

“Well, captain,” exclaimed Pencroft, whose cheers might have rivaled the

reports themselves, “what do you say of our battery? All the pirates in

the Pacific have only to present themselves before Granite House! Not

one can land there now without our permission!”

“Believe me, Pencroft,” replied the engineer, “it would be better not to

have to make the experiment.”

“Well,” said the sailor, “what ought to be done with regard to those

six villains who are roaming about the island? Are we to leave them

to overrun our forests, our fields, our plantations? These pirates are

regular jaguars, and it seems to me we ought not to hesitate to treat

them as such! What do you think, Ayrton?” added Pencroft, turning to his

companion.

Ayrton hesitated at first to reply, and Cyrus Harding regretted that

Pencroft had so thoughtlessly put this question. And he was much moved

when Ayrton replied in a humble tone,--

“I have been one of those jaguars, Mr. Pencroft. I have no right to

speak.”

And with a slow step he walked away.

Pencroft understood.

“What a brute I am!” he exclaimed. “Poor Ayrton! He has as much right to

speak here as any one!”

“Yes,” said Gideon Spilett, “but his reserve does him honor, and it is

right to respect the feeling which he has about his sad past.”

“Certainly, Mr. Spilett,” answered the sailor, “and there is no fear of

my doing so again. I would rather bite my tongue off than cause Ayrton

any pain! But to return to the question. It seems to me that these

ruffians have no right to any pity, and that we ought to rid the island

of them as soon as possible.”

“Is that your opinion, Pencroft?” asked the engineer.

“Quite my opinion.”

“And before hunting them mercilessly, you would not wait until they had

committed some fresh act of hostility against us?”

“Isn’t what they have done already enough?” asked Pencroft, who did not

understand these scruples.

“They may adopt other sentiments!” said Harding, “and perhaps repent.”

“They repent!” exclaimed the sailor, shrugging his shoulders.

“Pencroft, think of Ayrton!” said Herbert, taking the sailor’s hand. “He

became an honest man again!”

Pencroft looked at his companions one after the other. He had never

thought of his proposal being met with any objection. His rough nature

could not allow that they ought to come to terms with the rascals who

had landed on the island with Bob Harvey’s accomplices, the murderers of

the crew of the “Speedy,” and he looked upon them as wild beasts which

ought to be destroyed without delay and without remorse.

“Come!” said be. “Everybody is against me! You wish to be generous to

those villains! Very well; I hope we mayn’t repent it!”

“What danger shall we run,” said Herbert, “if we take care to be always

on our guard?”

“Hum!” observed the reporter, who had not given any decided opinion.

“They are six and well armed. If they each lay hid in a corner, and each

fired at one of us, they would soon be masters of the colony!”

“Why have they not done so?” said Herbert. “No doubt because it was not

their interest to do it. Besides, we are six also.”

“Well, well!” replied Pencroft, whom no reasoning could have convinced.

“Let us leave these good people to do what they like, and don’t think

anything more about them!”

“Come, Pencroft,” said Neb, “don’t make yourself out so bad as all that!

Suppose one of these unfortunate men were here before you, within good

range of your guns, you would not fire.”

“I would fire on him as I would on a mad dog, Neb,” replied Pencroft

coldly.

“Pencroft,” said the engineer, “you have always shown much deference to

my advice; will you, in this matter, yield to me?”

“I will do as you please, Captain Harding,” answered the sailor, who was

not at all convinced.

“Very well, wait, and we will not attack them unless we are attacked

first.”

Thus their behavior towards the pirates was agreed upon, although

Pencroft augured nothing good from it. They were not to attack them, but

were to be on their guard. After all, the island was large and fertile.

If any sentiment of honesty yet remained in the bottom of their hearts,

these wretches might perhaps be reclaimed. Was it not their interest in

the situation in which they found themselves to begin a new life? At

any rate, for humanity’s sake alone, it would be right to wait. The

colonists would no longer as before, be able to go and come without

fear. Hitherto they had only wild beasts to guard against, and now six

convicts of the worst description, perhaps, were roaming over their

island. It was serious, certainly, and to less brave men, it would have

been security lost! No matter! At present, the colonists had reason on

their side against Pencroft. Would they be right in the future? That

remained to be seen.

Chapter 6

However, the chief business of the colonists was to make that complete

exploration of the island which had been decided upon, and which would

have two objects: to discover the mysterious being whose existence was

now indisputable, and at the same time to find out what had become of

the pirates, what retreat they had chosen, what sort of life they were

leading, and what was to be feared from them. Cyrus Harding wished

to set out without delay; but as the expedition would be of some days

duration, it appeared best to load the cart with different materials and

tools in order to facilitate the organization of the encampments. One

of the onagers, however, having hurt its leg, could not be harnessed

at present, and a few days’ rest was necessary. The departure was,

therefore, put off for a week, until the 20th of November. The month

of November in this latitude corresponds to the month of May in the

northern zones. It was, therefore, the fine season. The sun was entering

the tropic of Capricorn, and gave the longest days in the year. The time

was, therefore, very favorable for the projected expedition, which,

if it did not accomplish its principal object, would at any rate be

fruitful in discoveries, especially of natural productions, since

Harding proposed to explore those dense forests of the Far West, which

stretched to the extremity of the Serpentine Peninsula.

During the nine days which preceded their departure, it was agreed that

the work on Prospect Heights should be finished off.

Moreover, it was necessary for Ayrton to return to the corral, where the

domesticated animals required his care. It was decided that he should

spend two days there, and return to Granite House after having liberally

supplied the stables.

As he was about to start, Harding asked him if he would not like one

of them to accompany him, observing that the island was less safe than

formerly. Ayrton replied that this was unnecessary, as he was enough

for the work, and that besides he apprehended no danger. If anything

occurred at the corral, or in the neighborhood, he could instantly warn

the colonists by sending a telegram to Granite House.

Ayrton departed at dawn on the 9th, taking the cart drawn by one onager,

and two hours after, the electric wire announced that he had found all

in order at the corral.

During these two days Harding busied himself in executing a project

which would completely guard Granite House against any surprise. It was

necessary to completely conceal the opening of the old outlet, which

was already walled up and partly hidden under grass and plants, at the

southern angle of Lake Grant. Nothing was easier, since if the level

of the lake was raised two or three feet, the opening would be quite

beneath it. Now, to raise this level they had only to establish a dam at

the two openings made by the lake, and by which were fed Creek Glycerine

and Falls River.

The colonists worked with a will, and the two dams which besides did not

exceed eight feet in width by three in height, were rapidly erected by

means of well-cemented blocks of stone.

This work finished, it would have been impossible to guess that at that

part of the lake, there existed a subterranean passage through which the

overflow of the lake formerly escaped.

Of course the little stream which fed the reservoir of Granite House and

worked the lift, had been carefully preserved, and the water could not

fail. The lift once raised, this sure and comfortable retreat would be

safe from any surprise.

This work had been so quickly done, that Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and

Herbert found time to make an expedition to Port Balloon, The sailor was

very anxious to know if the little creek in which the “Bonadventure” was

moored, had been visited by the convicts.

“These gentlemen,” he observed, “landed on the south coast, and if they

followed the shore, it is to be feared that they may have discovered the

little harbor, and in that case, I wouldn’t give half-a-dollar for our

‘Bonadventure.’”

Pencroft’s apprehensions were not without foundation, and a visit

to Port Balloon appeared to be very desirable. The sailor and his

companions set off on the 10th of November, after dinner, well armed.

Pencroft, ostentatiously slipping two bullets into each barrel of his

rifle, shook his head in a way which betokened nothing good to any one

who approached too near him, whether “man or beast,” as he said. Gideon

Spilett and Herbert also took their guns, and about three o’clock all

three left Granite House.

Neb accompanied them to the turn of the Mercy, and after they had

crossed, he raised the bridge. It was agreed that a gunshot should

announce the colonists’ return, and that at the signal Neb should return

and reestablish the communication between the two banks of the river.

The little band advanced directly along the road which led to the

southern coast of the island. This was only a distance of three miles

and a half, but Gideon Spilett and his companions took two hours to

traverse it. They examined all the border of the road, the thick forest,

as well as Tabor Marsh. They found no trace of the fugitives who, no

doubt, not having yet discovered the number of the colonists, or the

means of defense which they had at their disposal, had gained the less

accessible parts of the island.

Arrived at Port Balloon, Pencroft saw with extreme satisfaction that

the “Bonadventure” was tranquilly floating in the narrow creek. However,

Port Balloon was so well hidden among high rocks, that it could scarcely

be discovered either from the land or the sea.

“Come,” said Pencroft, “the blackguards have not been there yet. Long

grass suits reptiles best, and evidently we shall find them in the Far

West.”

“And it’s very lucky, for if they had found the ‘Bonadventure’,” added

Herbert, “they would have gone off in her, and we should have been

prevented from returning to Tabor Island.”

“Indeed,” remarked the reporter, “it will be important to take a

document there which will make known the situation of Lincoln Island,

and Ayrton’s new residence, in case the Scotch yacht returns to fetch

him.”

“Well, the ‘Bonadventure’ is always there, Mr. Spilett,” answered the

sailor. “She and her crew are ready to start at a moment’s notice!”

“I think, Pencroft, that that is a thing to be done after our

exploration of the island is finished. It is possible after all that the

stranger, if we manage to find him, may know as much about Tabor Island

as about Lincoln Island. Do not forget that he is certainly the author

of the document, and he may, perhaps, know how far we may count on the

return of the yacht!”

“But!” exclaimed Pencroft, “who in the world can he be? The fellow knows

us and we know nothing about him! If he is a simple castaway, why should

he conceal himself! We are honest men, I suppose, and the society of

honest men isn’t unpleasant to any one. Did he come here voluntarily?

Can he leave the island if he likes? Is he here still? Will he remain

any longer?”

Chatting thus, Pencroft, Gideon Spilett, and Herbert got on board and

looked about the deck of the “Bonadventure.” All at once, the sailor

having examined the bitts to which the cable of the anchor was

secured,--

“Hallo,” he cried, “this is queer!”

“What is the matter, Pencroft?” asked the reporter.

“The matter is, that it was not I who made this knot!”

And Pencroft showed a rope which fastened the cable to the bitt itself.

“What, it was not you?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“No! I can swear to it. This is a reef knot, and I always make a running

bowline.”

“You must be mistaken, Pencroft.”

“I am not mistaken!” declared the sailor. “My hand does it so naturally,

and one’s hand is never mistaken!”

“Then can the convicts have been on board?” asked Herbert.

“I know nothing about that,” answered Pencroft, “but what is certain,

is that some one has weighed the ‘Bonadventure’s’ anchor and dropped it

again! And look here, here is another proof! The cable of the anchor has

been run out, and its service is no longer at the hawse-hole. I repeat

that some one has been using our vessel!”

“But if the convicts had used her, they would have pillaged her, or

rather gone off with her.”

“Gone off! where to--to Tabor Island?” replied Pencroft. “Do you think,

they would risk themselves in a boat of such small tonnage?”

“We must, besides, be sure that they know of the islet,” rejoined the

reporter.

“However that may be,” said the sailor, “as sure as my name is

Bonadventure Pencroft, of the Vineyard, our ‘Bonadventure’ has sailed

without us!”

The sailor was positive that neither Gideon Spilett nor Herbert could

dispute his statement. It was evident that the vessel had been moved,

more or less, since Pencroft had brought her to Port Balloon. As to the

sailor, he had not the slightest doubt that the anchor had been raised

and then dropped again. Now, what was the use of these two maneuvers,

unless the vessel had been employed in some expedition?

“But how was it we did not see the ‘Bonadventure’ pass in the sight of

the island?” observed the reporter, who was anxious to bring forward

every possible objection.

“Why, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “they would only have to start

in the night with a good breeze, and they would be out of sight of the

island in two hours.”

“Well,” resumed Gideon Spilett, “I ask again, what object could the

convicts have had in using the ‘Bonadventure,’ and why, after they had

made use of her, should they have brought her back to port?”

“Why, Mr. Spilett,” replied the sailor, “we must put that among the

unaccountable things, and not think anything more about it. The chief

thing is that the ‘Bonadventure’ was there, and she is there now. Only,

unfortunately, if the convicts take her a second time, we shall very

likely not find her again in her place!”

“Then, Pencroft,” said Herbert, “would it not be wisest to bring the

‘Bonadventure’ off to Granite House?”

“Yes and no,” answered Pencroft, “or rather no. The mouth of the Mercy

is a bad place for a vessel, and the sea is heavy there.”

“But by hauling her up on the sand, to the foot of the Chimneys?”

“Perhaps yes,” replied Pencroft. “At any rate, since we must leave

Granite House for a long expedition, I think the ‘Bonadventure’ will be

safer here during our absence, and we shall do best to leave her here

until the island is rid of these blackguards.”

“That is exactly my opinion,” said the reporter. “At any rate in the

event of bad weather, she will not be exposed here as she would be at

the mouth of the Mercy.”

“But suppose the convicts pay her another visit,” said Herbert.

“Well, my boy,” replied Pencroft, “not finding her here, they would not

be long in finding her on the sands of Granite House, and, during our

absence, nothing could hinder them from seizing her! I agree, therefore,

with Mr. Spilett, that she must be left in Port Balloon. But, if on our

return we have not rid the island of those rascals, it will be prudent

to bring our boat to Granite House, until the time when we need not fear

any unpleasant visits.”

“That’s settled. Let us be off,” said the reporter.

Pencroft, Herbert, and Gideon Spilett, on their return to Granite House,

told the engineer all that had passed, and the latter approved of their

arrangements both for the present and the future. He also promised the

sailor that he would study that part of the channel situated between the

islet and the coast, so as to ascertain if it would not be possible

to make an artificial harbor there by means of dams. In this way, the

“Bonadventure” would be always within reach, under the eyes of the

colonists, and if necessary, under lock and key.

That evening a telegram was sent to Ayrton, requesting him to bring from

the corral a couple of goats, which Neb wished to acclimatize to the

plateau. Singularly enough, Ayrton did not acknowledge the receipt of

the despatch, as he was accustomed to do. This could not but astonish

the engineer. But it might be that Ayrton was not at that moment in the

corral, or even that he was on his way back to Granite House. In fact,

two days had already passed since his departure, and it had been decided

that on the evening of the 10th or at the latest the morning of the

11th, he should return. The colonists waited, therefore, for Ayrton to

appear on Prospect Heights. Neb and Herbert even watched at the bridge

so as to be ready to lower it the moment their companion presented

himself.

But up to ten in the evening, there were no signs of Ayrton. It was,

therefore, judged best to send a fresh despatch, requiring an immediate

reply.

The bell of the telegraph at Granite House remained mute.

The colonists’ uneasiness was great. What had happened? Was Ayrton no

longer at the corral, or if he was still there, had he no longer control

over his movements? Could they go to the corral in this dark night?

They consulted. Some wished to go, the others to remain.

“But,” said Herbert, “perhaps some accident has happened to the

telegraphic apparatus, so that it works no longer?”

“That may be,” said the reporter.

“Wait till to-morrow,” replied Cyrus Harding. “It is possible, indeed,

that Ayrton has not received our despatch, or even that we have not

received his.”

They waited, of course not without some anxiety.

At dawn of day, the 11th of November, Harding again sent the electric

current along the wire and received no reply.

He tried again: the same result.

“Off to the corral,” said he.

“And well armed!” added Pencroft.

It was immediately decided that Granite House should not be left alone

and that Neb should remain there. After having accompanied his friends

to Creek Glycerine, he raised the bridge; and waiting behind a tree he

watched for the return of either his companions or Ayrton.

In the event of the pirates presenting themselves and attempting to

force the passage, he was to endeavor to stop them by firing on them,

and as a last resource he was to take refuge in Granite House, where,

the lift once raised, he would be in safety.

Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, and Pencroft were to repair

to the corral, and if they did not find Ayrton, search the neighboring

woods.

At six o’clock in the morning, the engineer and his three companions

had passed Creek Glycerine, and Neb posted himself behind a small mound

crowned by several dragon trees, on the left bank of the stream.

The colonists, after leaving the plateau of Prospect Heights,

immediately took the road to the corral. They shouldered their guns,

ready to fire on the slightest hostile demonstration. The two rifles and

the two guns had been loaded with ball.

The wood was thick on each side of the road and might easily have

concealed the convicts, who owing to their weapons would have been

really formidable.

The colonists walked rapidly and in silence. Top preceded them,

sometimes running on the road, sometimes taking a ramble into the wood,

but always quiet and not appearing to fear anything unusual. And

they could be sure that the faithful dog would not allow them to be

surprised, but would bark at the least appearance of danger.

Cyrus Harding and his companions followed beside the road the wire which

connected the corral with Granite House. After walking for nearly two

miles, they had not as yet discovered any explanation of the difficulty.

The posts were in good order, the wire regularly extended. However, at

that moment the engineer observed that the wire appeared to be slack,

and on arriving at post No. 74, Herbert, who was in advance stopped,

exclaiming,--

“The wire is broken!”

His companions hurried forward and arrived at the spot where the lad

was standing. The post was rooted up and lying across the path. The

unexpected explanation of the difficulty was here, and it was evident

that the despatches from Granite House had not been received at the

corral, nor those from the corral at Granite House.

“It wasn’t the wind that blew down this post,” observed Pencroft.

“No,” replied Gideon Spilett. “The earth has been dug up round its foot,

and it has been torn up by the hand of man.”

“Besides, the wire is broken,” added Herbert, showing that the wire had

been snapped.

“Is the fracture recent?” asked Harding.

“Yes,” answered Herbert, “it has certainly been done quite lately.”

“To the corral! to the corral!” exclaimed the sailor.

The colonists were now half way between Granite House and the corral,

having still two miles and a half to go. They pressed forward with

redoubled speed.

Indeed, it was to be feared that some serious accident had occurred in

the corral. No doubt, Ayrton might have sent a telegram which had not

arrived, but this was not the reason why his companions were so uneasy,

for, a more unaccountable circumstance, Ayrton, who had promised to

return the evening before, had not reappeared. In short, it was not

without a motive that all communication had been stopped between the

corral and Granite House, and who but the convicts could have any

interest in interrupting this communication?

The settlers hastened on, their hearts oppressed with anxiety. They were

sincerely attached to their new companion. Were they to find him struck

down by the hands of those of whom he was formerly the leader?

Soon they arrived at the place where the road led along the side of the

little stream which flowed from the Red Creek and watered the meadows

of the corral. They then moderated their pace so that they should not

be out of breath at the moment when a struggle might be necessary. Their

guns were in their hands ready cocked. The forest was watched on every

side. Top uttered sullen groans which were rather ominous.

At last the palisade appeared through the trees. No trace of any damage

could be seen. The gate was shut as usual. Deep silence reigned in the

corral. Neither the accustomed bleating of the sheep nor Ayrton’s voice

could be heard.

“Let us enter,” said Cyrus Harding.

And the engineer advanced, while his companions, keeping watch about

twenty paces behind him, were ready to fire at a moment’s notice.

Harding raised the inner latch of the gate and was about to push it

back, when Top barked loudly. A report sounded and was responded to by a

cry of pain.

Herbert, struck by a bullet, lay stretched on the ground.

Chapter 7

At Herbert’s cry, Pencroft, letting his gun fall, rushed towards him.

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

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett ran to Herbert.

The reporter listened to ascertain if the poor lad’s heart was still

beating.

“He lives,” said he, “but he must be carried--”

“To Granite House? that is impossible!” replied the engineer.

“Into the corral, then!” said Pencroft.

“In a moment,” said Harding.

And he ran round the left corner of the palisade. There he found a

convict, who aiming at him, sent a ball through his hat. In a few

seconds, before he had even time to fire his second barrel, he fell,

struck to the heart by Harding’s dagger, more sure even than his gun.

During this time, Gideon Spilett and the sailor hoisted themselves over

the palisade, leaped into the enclosure, threw down the props which

supported the inner door, ran into the empty house, and soon, poor

Herbert was lying on Ayrton’s bed. In a few moments, Harding was by his

side.

On seeing Herbert senseless, the sailor’s grief was terrible.

He sobbed, he cried, he tried to beat his head against the wall.

Neither the engineer nor the reporter could calm him. They themselves

were choked with emotion. They could not speak.

However, they knew that it depended on them to rescue from death the

poor boy who was suffering beneath their eyes. Gideon Spilett had not

passed through the many incidents by which his life had been checkered

without acquiring some slight knowledge of medicine. He knew a little

of everything, and several times he had been obliged to attend to wounds

produced either by a sword-bayonet or shot. Assisted by Cyrus Harding,

he proceeded to render the aid Herbert required.

The reporter was immediately struck by the complete stupor in which

Herbert lay, a stupor owing either to the hemorrhage, or to the shock,

the ball having struck a bone with sufficient force to produce a violent

concussion.

Herbert was deadly pale, and his pulse so feeble that Spilett only felt

it beat at long intervals, as if it was on the point of stopping.

These symptoms were very serious.

Herbert’s chest was laid bare, and the blood having been stanched with

handkerchiefs, it was bathed with cold water.

The contusion, or rather the contused wound appeared,--an oval below the

chest between the third and fourth ribs. It was there that Herbert had

been hit by the bullet.

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett then turned the poor boy over; as they

did so, he uttered a moan so feeble that they almost thought it was his

last sigh.

Herberts back was covered with blood from another contused wound, by

which the ball had immediately escaped.

“God be praised!” said the reporter, “the ball is not in the body, and

we shall not have to extract it.”

“But the heart?” asked Harding.

“The heart has not been touched; if it had been, Herbert would be dead!”

“Dead!” exclaimed Pencroft, with a groan.

The sailor had only heard the last words uttered by the reporter.

“No, Pencroft,” replied Cyrus Harding, “no! He is not dead. His pulse

still beats. He has even uttered a moan. But for your boy’s sake, calm

yourself. We have need of all our self-possession.”

“Do not make us lose it, my friend.”

Pencroft was silent, but a reaction set in, and great tears rolled down

his cheeks.

In the meanwhile, Gideon Spilett endeavored to collect his ideas, and

proceed methodically. After his examination he had no doubt that the

ball, entering in front, between the seventh and eighth ribs, had issued

behind between the third and fourth. But what mischief had the ball

committed in its passage? What important organs had been reached? A

professional surgeon would have had difficulty in determining this at

once, and still more so the reporter.

However, he knew one thing, this was that he would have to prevent the

inflammatory strangulation of the injured parts, then to contend with

the local inflammation and fever which would result from the wound,

perhaps mortal! Now, what styptics, what antiphlogistics ought to be

employed? By what means could inflammation be prevented?

At any rate, the most important thing was that the two wounds should

be dressed without delay. It did not appear necessary to Gideon Spilett

that a fresh flow of blood should be caused by bathing them in tepid

water, and compressing their lips. The hemorrhage had been very

abundant, and Herbert was already too much enfeebled by the loss of

blood.

The reporter, therefore, thought it best to simply bathe the two wounds

with cold water.

Herbert was placed on his left side, and was maintained in that

position.

“He must not be moved.” said Gideon Spilett. “He is in the most

favorable position for the wounds in his back and chest to suppurate

easily, and absolute rest is necessary.”

“What! can’t we carry him to Granite House?” asked Pencroft.

“No, Pencroft,” replied the reporter.

“I’ll pay the villains off!” cried the sailor, shaking his fist in a

menacing manner.

“Pencroft!” said Cyrus Harding.

Gideon Spilett had resumed his examination of the wounded boy. Herbert

was still so frightfully pale, that the reporter felt anxious.

“Cyrus,” said he, “I am not a surgeon. I am in terrible perplexity. You

must aid me with your advice, your experience!”

“Take courage, my friend,” answered the engineer, pressing the

reporter’s hand. “Judge coolly. Think only of this: Herbert must be

saved!”

These words restored to Gideon Spilett that self-possession which he had

lost in a moment of discouragement on feeling his great responsibility.

He seated himself close to the bed. Cyrus Harding stood near. Pencroft

had torn up his shirt, and was mechanically making lint.

Spilett then explained to Cyrus Harding that he thought he ought first

of all to stop the hemorrhage, but not close the two wounds, or cause

their immediate cicatrization, for there had been internal perforation,

and the suppuration must not be allowed to accumulate in the chest.

Harding approved entirely, and it was decided that the two wounds should

be dressed without attempting to close them by immediate coaptation.

And now did the colonists possess an efficacious agent to act against

the inflammation which might occur?

Yes. They had one, for nature had generously lavished it. They had cold

water, that is to say, the most powerful sedative that can be employed

against inflammation of wounds, the most efficacious therapeutic agent

in grave cases, and the one which is now adopted by all physicians.

Cold water has, moreover, the advantage of leaving the wound in absolute

rest, and preserving it from all premature dressing, a considerable

advantage, since it has been found by experience that contact with the

air is dangerous during the first days.

Gideon Spilett and Cyrus Harding reasoned thus with their simple good

sense, and they acted as the best surgeon would have done. Compresses

of linen were applied to poor Herbert’s two wounds, and were kept

constantly wet with cold water.

The sailor had at first lighted a fire in the hut, which was not wanting

in things necessary for life. Maple sugar, medicinal plants, the same

which the lad had gathered on the banks of Lake Grant, enabled them to

make some refreshing drinks, which they gave him without his taking any

notice of it. His fever was extremely high, and all that day and night

passed without his becoming conscious.

Herbert’s life hung on a thread, and this thread might break at any

moment. The next day, the 12th of November, the hopes of Harding and his

companions slightly revived. Herbert had come out of his long stupor.

He opened his eyes, he recognized Cyrus Harding, the reporter, and

Pencroft. He uttered two or three words. He did not know what had

happened. They told him, and Spilett begged him to remain perfectly

still, telling him that his life was not in danger, and that his wounds

would heal in a few days. However, Herbert scarcely suffered at all,

and the cold water with which they were constantly bathed, prevented any

inflammation of the wounds. The suppuration was established in a regular

way, the fever did not increase, and it might now be hoped that this

terrible wound would not involve any catastrophe. Pencroft felt the

swelling of his heart gradually subside. He was like a sister of mercy,

like a mother by the bed of her child.

Herbert dozed again, but his sleep appeared more natural.

“Tell me again that you hope, Mr. Spilett,” said Pencroft. “Tell me

again that you will save Herbert!”

“Yes, we will save him!” replied the reporter. “The wound is serious,

and, perhaps, even the ball has traversed the lungs, but the perforation

of this organ is not fatal.”

“God bless you!” answered Pencroft.

As may be believed, during the four-and-twenty hours they had been in

the corral, the colonists had no other thought than that of nursing

Herbert. They did not think either of the danger which threatened them

should the convicts return, or of the precautions to be taken for the

future.

But on this day, while Pencroft watched by the sick-bed, Cyrus Harding

and the reporter consulted as to what it would be best to do.

First of all they examined the corral. There was not a trace of Ayrton.

Had the unhappy man been dragged away by his former accomplices? Had he

resisted, and been overcome in the struggle? This last supposition was

only too probable. Gideon Spilett, at the moment he scaled the palisade,

had clearly seen some one of the convicts running along the southern

spur of Mount Franklin, towards whom Top had sprung. It was one of those

whose object had been so completely defeated by the rocks at the mouth

of the Mercy. Besides, the one killed by Harding, and whose body was

found outside the enclosure, of course belonged to Bob Harvey’s crew.

As to the corral, it had not suffered any damage. The gates were closed,

and the animals had not been able to disperse in the forest. Nor could

they see traces of any struggle, any devastation, either in the hut,

or in the palisade. The ammunition only, with which Ayrton had been

supplied, had disappeared with him.

“The unhappy man has been surprised,” said Harding, “and as he was a man

to defend himself, he must have been overpowered.”

“Yes, that is to be feared!” said the reporter. “Then, doubtless, the

convicts installed themselves in the corral where they found plenty of

everything, and only fled when they saw us coming. It is very evident,

too, that at this moment Ayrton, whether living or dead, is not here!”

“We shall have to beat the forest,” said the engineer, “and rid the

island of these wretches. Pencroft’s presentiments were not mistaken,

when he wished to hunt them as wild beasts. That would have spared us

all these misfortunes!”

“Yes,” answered the reporter, “but now we have the right to be

merciless!”

“At any rate,” said the engineer, “we are obliged to wait some time,

and to remain at the corral until we can carry Herbert without danger to

Granite House.”

“But Neb?” asked the reporter.

“Neb is in safety.”

“But if, uneasy at our absence, he would venture to come?”

“He must not come!” returned Cyrus Harding quickly. “He would be

murdered on the road!”

“It is very probable, however, that he will attempt to rejoin us!”

“Ah, if the telegraph still acted, he might be warned! But that is

impossible now! As to leaving Pencroft and Herbert here alone, we could

not do it! Well, I will go alone to Granite House.”

“No, no! Cyrus,” answered the reporter, “you must not expose yourself!

Your courage would be of no avail. The villains are evidently watching

the corral, they are hidden in the thick woods which surround it, and if

you go we shall soon have to regret two misfortunes instead of one!”

“But Neb?” repeated the engineer. “It is now four-and-twenty hours since

he has had any news of us! He will be sure to come!”

“And as he will be less on his guard than we should be ourselves,” added

Spilett, “he will be killed!”

“Is there really no way of warning him?”

While the engineer thought, his eyes fell on Top, who, going backwards

and forwards seemed to say,--

“Am not I here?”

“Top!” exclaimed Cyrus Harding.

The animal sprang at his master’s call.

“Yes, Top will go,” said the reporter, who had understood the engineer.

“Top can go where we cannot! He will carry to Granite House the news of

the corral, and he will bring back to us that from Granite House!”

“Quick!” said Harding. “Quick!”

Spilett rapidly tore a leaf from his note-book, and wrote these words:--

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

Granite House. Have the convicts appeared in the neighborhood? Reply by

Top.”

This laconic note contained all that Neb ought to know, and at the same

time asked all that the colonists wished to know. It was folded and

fastened to Top’s collar in a conspicuous position.

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

Go, go!”

Top bounded at these words. He understood, he knew what was expected of

him. The road to the corral was familiar to him. In less than an hour he

could clear it, and it might be hoped that where neither Cyrus Harding

nor the reporter could have ventured without danger, Top, running among

the grass or in the wood, would pass unperceived.

The engineer went to the gate of the corral and opened it.

“Neb, Top! Neb!” repeated the engineer, again pointing in the direction

of Granite House.

Top sprang forwards, then almost immediately disappeared.

“He will get there!” said the reporter.

“Yes, and he will come back, the faithful animal!”

“What o’clock is it?” asked Gideon Spilett.

“Ten.”

“In an hour he may be here. We will watch for his return.”

The gate of the corral was closed. The engineer and the reporter

re-entered the house. Herbert was still in a sleep. Pencroft kept the

compresses always wet. Spilett, seeing there was nothing he could do

at that moment, busied himself in preparing some nourishment, while

attentively watching that part of the enclosure against the hill, at

which an attack might be expected.

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

eleven o’clock, Cyrus Harding and the reporter, rifle in hand, were

behind the gate, ready to open it at the first bark of their dog.

They did not doubt that if Top had arrived safely at Granite House, Neb

would have sent him back immediately.

They had both been there for about ten minutes, when a report was heard,

followed by repeated barks.

The engineer opened the gate, and seeing smoke a hundred feet off in the

wood, he fired in that direction.

Almost immediately Top bounded into the corral, and the gate was quickly

shut.

“Top, Top!” exclaimed the engineer, taking the dog’s great honest head

between his hands.

A note was fastened to his neck, and Cyrus Harding read these words,

traced in Neb’s large writing:--“No pirates in the neighborhood of

Granite House. I will not stir. Poor Mr. Herbert!”

Chapter 8

So the convicts were still there, watching the corral, and determined to

kill the settlers one after the other. There was nothing to be done but

to treat them as wild beasts. But great precautions must be taken, for

just now the wretches had the advantage on their side, seeing, and not

being seen, being able to surprise by the suddenness of their attack,

yet not to be surprised themselves. Harding made arrangements,

therefore, for living in the corral, of which the provisions would last

for a tolerable length of time. Ayrton’s house had been provided with

all that was necessary for existence, and the convicts, scared by

the arrival of the settlers, had not had time to pillage it. It was

probable, as Gideon Spilett observed, that things had occurred as

follows:

The six convicts, disembarking on the island, had followed the southern

shore, and after having traversed the double shore of the Serpentine

Peninsula, not being inclined to venture into the Far West woods, they

had reached the mouth of Falls River. From this point, by following the

right bank of the watercourse, they would arrive at the spurs of Mount

Franklin, among which they would naturally seek a retreat, and they

could not have been long in discovering the corral, then uninhabited.

There they had regularly installed themselves, awaiting the moment

to put their abominable schemes into execution. Ayrton’s arrival had

surprised them, but they had managed to overpower the unfortunate man,

and--the rest may be easily imagined!

Now, the convicts,--reduced to five, it is true, but well armed,--were

roaming the woods, and to venture there was to expose themselves to

their attacks, which could be neither guarded against nor prevented.

“Wait! There is nothing else to be done!” repeated Cyrus Harding. “When

Herbert is cured, we can organize a general battle of the island, and

have satisfaction of these convicts. That will be the object of our

grand expedition at the same time--”

“As the search for our mysterious protector,” added Gideon Spilett,

finishing the engineer’s sentence. “And it must be acknowledged, my dear

Cyrus, that this time his protection was wanting at the very moment when

it was most necessary to us!”

“Who knows?” replied the engineer.

“What do you mean?” asked the reporter.

“That we are not at the end of our trouble yet, my dear Spilett,

and that his powerful intervention may have another opportunity of

exercising itself. But that is not the question now. Herbert’s life

before everything.”

This was the colonists’ saddest thought. Several days passed, and the

poor boy’s state was happily no worse. Cold water, always kept at a

suitable temperature, had completely prevented the inflammation of the

wounds. It even seemed to the reporter that this water, being slightly

sulphurous,--which was explained by the neighborhood of the volcano,

had a more direct action on the healing. The suppuration was much

less abundant, and thanks to the incessant care by which he was

surrounded!--Herbert returned to life, and his fever abated. He was

besides subjected to a severe diet, and consequently his weakness was

and would be extreme; but there was no want of refreshing drinks, and

absolute rest was of the greatest benefit to him. Cyrus Harding, Gideon

Spilett, and Pencroft had become very skilful in dressing the lad’s

wounds. All the linen in the house had been sacrificed. Herbert’s

wounds, covered with compresses and lint, were pressed neither too much

nor too little, so as to cause their cicatrization without effecting any

inflammatory reaction. The reporter used extreme care in the dressing,

knowing well the importance of it, and repeating to his companions that

which most surgeons willingly admit, that it is perhaps rarer to see a

dressing well done than an operation well performed.

In ten days, on the 22nd of November, Herbert was considerably better.

He had begun to take some nourishment.

The color was returning to his cheeks, and his bright eyes smiled at

his nurses. He talked a little, notwithstanding Pencroft’s efforts, who

talked incessantly to prevent him from beginning to speak, and told him

the most improbable stories. Herbert had questioned him on the subject

of Ayrton, whom he was astonished not to see near him, thinking that

he was at the corral. But the sailor, not wishing to distress Herbert,

contented himself by replying that Ayrton had rejoined Neb, so as to

defend Granite House.

“Humph!” said Pencroft, “these pirates! they are gentlemen who have

no right to any consideration! And the captain wanted to win them by

kindness! I’ll send them some kindness, but in the shape of a good

bullet!”

“And have they not been seen again?” asked Herbert.

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

you are cured we shall see if the cowards who strike us from behind will

dare to meet us face to face!”

“I am still very weak, my poor Pencroft!”

“Well! your strength will return gradually! What’s a ball through the

chest? Nothing but a joke! I’ve seen many, and I don’t think much of

them!”

At last things appeared to be going on well, and if no complication

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

would have been the condition of the colonists if his state had been

aggravated,--if, for example, the ball had remained in his body, if his

arm or his leg had had to be amputated?

“No,” said Spilett more than once, “I have never thought of such a

contingency without shuddering!”

“And yet, if it had been necessary to operate,” said Harding one day to

him, “you would not have hesitated?”

“No, Cyrus!” said Gideon Spilett, “but thank God that we have been

spared this complication!”

As in so many other conjectures, the colonists had appealed to the logic

of that simple good sense of which they had made use so often, and once

more, thanks to their general knowledge, it had succeeded! But might not

a time come when all their science would be at fault? They were alone

on the island. Now, men in all states of society are necessary to each

other. Cyrus Harding knew this well, and sometimes he asked if some

circumstance might not occur which they would be powerless to surmount.

It appeared to him besides, that he and his companions, till then so

fortunate, had entered into an unlucky period. During the two years and

a half which had elapsed since their escape from Richmond, it might

be said that they had had everything their own way. The island had

abundantly supplied them with minerals, vegetables, animals, and as

Nature had constantly loaded them, their science had known how to take

advantage of what she offered them.

The wellbeing of the colony was therefore complete. Moreover, in certain

occurrences an inexplicable influence had come to their aid!... But all

that could only be for a time.

In short, Cyrus Harding believed that fortune had turned against them.

In fact, the convicts’ ship had appeared in the waters of the island,

and if the pirates had been, so to speak, miraculously destroyed, six of

them, at least, had escaped the catastrophe. They had disembarked on the

island, and it was almost impossible to get at the five who survived.

Ayrton had no doubt been murdered by these wretches, who possessed

firearms, and at the first use that they had made of them, Herbert had

fallen, wounded almost mortally. Were these the first blows aimed by

adverse fortune at the colonists? This was often asked by Harding. This

was often repeated by the reporter; and it appeared to him also that the

intervention, so strange, yet so efficacious, which till then had served

them so well, had now failed them. Had this mysterious being, whatever

he was, whose existence could not be denied, abandoned the island? Had

he in his turn succumbed?

No reply was possible to these questions. But it must not be imagined

that because Harding and his companions spoke of these things, they were

men to despair. Far from that. They looked their situation in the face,

they analyzed the chances, they prepared themselves for any event, they

stood firm and straight before the future, and if adversity was at last

to strike them, it would find in them men prepared to struggle against

it.

Chapter 9

The convalescence of the young invalid was regularly progressing. One

thing only was now to be desired, that his state would allow him to be

brought to Granite House. However well built and supplied the corral

house was, it could not be so comfortable as the healthy granite

dwelling. Besides, it did not offer the same security, and its tenants,

notwithstanding their watchfulness, were here always in fear of some

shot from the convicts. There, on the contrary, in the middle of that

impregnable and inaccessible cliff, they would have nothing to fear, and

any attack on their persons would certainly fail. They therefore waited

impatiently for the moment when Herbert might be moved without danger

from his wound, and they were determined to make this move, although the

communication through Jacamar Wood was very difficult.

They had no news from Neb, but were not uneasy on that account. The

courageous Negro, well entrenched in the depths of Granite House, would

not allow himself to be surprised. Top had not been sent again to him,

as it appeared useless to expose the faithful dog to some shot which

might deprive the settlers of their most useful auxiliary.

They waited, therefore, although they were anxious to be reunited at

Granite House. It pained the engineer to see his forces divided, for it

gave great advantage to the pirates. Since Ayrton’s disappearance they

were only four against five, for Herbert could not yet be counted, and

this was not the least care of the brave boy, who well understood the

trouble of which he was the cause.

The question of knowing how, in their condition, they were to act

against the pirates, was thoroughly discussed on the 29th of November

by Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, and Pencroft, at a moment when Herbert

was asleep and could not hear them.

“My friends,” said the reporter, after they had talked of Neb and of the

impossibility of communicating with him, “I think,--like you, that to

venture on the road to the corral would be to risk receiving a gunshot

without being able to return it. But do you not think that the best

thing to be done now is to openly give chase to these wretches?”

“That is just what I was thinking,” answered Pencroft. “I believe we’re

not fellows to be afraid of a bullet, and as for me, if Captain Harding

approves, I’m ready to dash into the forest! Why, hang it, one man is

equal to another!”

“But is he equal to five?” asked the engineer.

“I will join Pencroft,” said the reporter, “and both of us, well-armed

and accompanied by Top--”

“My dear Spilett, and you, Pencroft,” answered Harding, “let us reason

coolly. If the convicts were hid in one spot of the island, if we knew

that spot, and had only to dislodge them, I would undertake a direct

attack; but is there not occasion to fear, on the contrary, that they

are sure to fire the first shot?”

“Well, captain,” cried Pencroft, “a bullet does not always reach its

mark.”

“That which struck Herbert did not miss, Pencroft,” replied the

engineer. “Besides, observe that if both of you left the corral I should

remain here alone to defend it. Do you imagine that the convicts will

not see you leave it, that they will not allow you to enter the forest,

and that they will not attack it during your absence, knowing that there

is no one here but a wounded boy and a man?”

“You are right, captain,” replied Pencroft, his chest swelling with

sullen anger. “You are right; they will do all they can to retake the

corral, which they know to be well stored; and alone you could not hold

it against them.”

“Oh, if we were only at Granite House!”

“If we were at Granite House,” answered the engineer, “the case would be

very different. There I should not be afraid to leave Herbert with one,

while the other three went to search the forests of the island. But we

are at the corral, and it is best to stay here until we can leave it

together.”