Cyrus Harding’s reasoning was unanswerable, and his companions

understood it well.

“If only Ayrton was still one of us!” said Gideon Spilett. “Poor fellow!

his return to social life will have been but of short duration.”

“If he is dead,” added Pencroft, in a peculiar tone.

“Do you hope, then, Pencroft, that the villains have spared him?” asked

Gideon Spilett.

“Yes, if they had any interest in doing so.”

“What! you suppose that Ayrton finding his old companions, forgetting

all that he owes us--”

“Who knows?” answered the sailor, who did not hazard this shameful

supposition without hesitating.

“Pencroft,” said Harding, taking the sailor’s arm, “that is a wicked

idea of yours, and you will distress me much if you persist in speaking

thus. I will answer for Ayrton’s fidelity.”

“And I also,” added the reporter quickly.

“Yes, yes, captain, I was wrong,” replied Pencroft; “it was a wicked

idea indeed that I had, and nothing justifies it. But what can I do? I’m

not in my senses. This imprisonment in the corral wearies me horribly,

and I have never felt so excited as I do now.

“Be patient, Pencroft,” replied the engineer. “How long will it be, my

dear Spilett, before you think Herbert may be carried to Granite House?”

“That is difficult to say, Cyrus,” answered the reporter, “for any

imprudence might involve terrible consequences. But his convalescence

is progressing, and if he continues to gain strength, in eight days from

now--well, we shall see.”

Eight days! That would put off the return to Granite House until the

first days of December. At this time two months of spring had already

passed. The weather was fine, and the heat began to be great. The

forests of the island were in full leaf, and the time was approaching

when the usual crops ought to be gathered. The return to the plateau of

Prospect Heights would, therefore, be followed by extensive agricultural

labors, interrupted only by the projected expedition through the island.

It can, therefore, be well understood how injurious this seclusion in

the corral must have been to the colonists.

But if they were compelled to bow before necessity, they did not do so

without impatience.

Once or twice the reporter ventured out into the road and made the

tour of the palisade. Top accompanied him, and Gideon Spilett, his gun

cocked, was ready for any emergency.

He met with no misadventure and found no suspicious traces. His dog

would have warned him of any danger, and, as Top did not bark, it might

be concluded that there was nothing to fear at the moment at least, and

that the convicts were occupied in another part of the island.

However, on his second sortie, on the 27th of November, Gideon Spilett,

who had ventured a quarter of a mile into the woods, towards the south

of the mountain, remarked that Top scented something. The dog had no

longer his unconcerned manner; he went backwards and forwards, ferreting

among the grass and bushes as if his smell had revealed some suspicious

object to him.

Gideon Spilett followed Top, encouraged him, excited him by his voice,

while keeping a sharp look-out, his gun ready to fire, and sheltering

himself behind the trees. It was not probable that Top scented the

presence of man, for in that case, he would have announced it by

half-uttered, sullen, angry barks. Now, as he did not growl, it was

because danger was neither near nor approaching.

Nearly five minutes passed thus, Top rummaging, the reporter following

him prudently when, all at once, the dog rushed towards a thick bush,

and drew out a rag.

It was a piece of cloth, stained and torn, which Spilett immediately

brought back to the corral. There it was examined by the colonists,

who found that it was a fragment of Ayrton’s waistcoat, a piece of that

felt, manufactured solely by the Granite House factory.

“You see, Pencroft,” observed Harding, “there has been resistance on the

part of the unfortunate Ayrton. The convicts have dragged him away in

spite of himself! Do you still doubt his honesty?”

“No, captain,” answered the sailor, “and I repented of my suspicion a

long time ago! But it seems to me that something may be learned from the

incident.”

“What is that?” asked the reporter.

“It is that Ayrton was not killed at the corral! That they dragged him

away living, since he has resisted. Therefore, perhaps, he is still

living!”

“Perhaps, indeed,” replied the engineer, who remained thoughtful.

This was a hope, to which Ayrton’s companions could still hold. Indeed,

they had before believed that, surprised in the corral, Ayrton had

fallen by a bullet, as Herbert had fallen. But if the convicts had not

killed him at first, if they had brought him living to another part of

the island, might it not be admitted that he was still their prisoner?

Perhaps, even, one of them had found in Ayrton his old Australian

companion Ben Joyce, the chief of the escaped convicts. And who knows

but that they had conceived the impossible hope of bringing back Ayrton

to themselves? He would have been very useful to them, if they had been

able to make him turn traitor!

This incident was, therefore, favorably interpreted at the corral, and

it no longer appeared impossible that they should find Ayrton again.

On his side, if he was only a prisoner, Ayrton would no doubt do all

he could to escape from the hands of the villains, and this would be a

powerful aid to the settlers!

“At any rate,” observed Gideon Spilett, “if happily Ayrton did manage to

escape, he would go directly to Granite House, for he could not know

of the attempted assassination of which Herbert has been a victim, and

consequently would never think of our being imprisoned in the corral.”

“Oh! I wish that he was there, at Granite House!” cried Pencroft, “and

that we were there, too! For, although the rascals can do nothing to our

house, they may plunder the plateau, our plantations, our poultry-yard!”

Pencroft had become a thorough farmer, heartily attached to his crops.

But it must be said that Herbert was more anxious than any to return

to Granite House, for he knew how much the presence of the settlers

was needed there. And it was he who was keeping them at the corral!

Therefore, one idea occupied his mind--to leave the corral, and when!

He believed he could bear removal to Granite House. He was sure his

strength would return more quickly in his room, with the air and sight

of the sea!

Several times he pressed Gideon Spilett, but the latter, fearing, with

good reason, that Herbert’s wounds, half healed, might reopen on the

way, did not give the order to start.

However, something occurred which compelled Cyrus Harding and his

two friends to yield to the lad’s wish, and God alone knew that this

determination might cause them grief and remorse.

It was the 29th of November, seven o’clock in the evening. The three

settlers were talking in Herbert’s room, when they heard Top utter quick

barks.

Harding, Pencroft, and Spilett seized their guns and ran out of the

house. Top, at the foot of the palisade, was jumping, barking, but it

was with pleasure, not anger.

“Some one is coming.”

“Yes.”

“It is not an enemy!”

“Neb, perhaps?”

“Or Ayrton?”

These words had hardly been exchanged between the engineer and his two

companions when a body leaped over the palisade and fell on the ground

inside the corral.

It was Jup, Master Jup in person, to whom Top immediately gave a most

cordial reception.

“Jup!” exclaimed Pencroft.

“Neb has sent him to us,” said the reporter.

“Then,” replied the engineer, “he must have some note on him.”

Pencroft rushed up to the orang. Certainly if Neb had any important

matter to communicate to his master he could not employ a more sure or

more rapid messenger, who could pass where neither the colonists could,

nor even Top himself.

Cyrus Harding was not mistaken. At Jup’s neck hung a small bag, and in

this bag was found a little note traced by Neb’s hand.

The despair of Harding and his companions may be imagined when they read

these words:--

“Friday, six o’clock in the morning.

“Plateau invaded by convicts.

“Neb.”

They gazed at each other without uttering a word, then they re-entered

the house. What were they to do? The convicts on Prospect Heights! that

was disaster, devastation, ruin.

Herbert, on seeing the engineer, the reporter, and Pencroft re-enter,

guessed that their situation was aggravated, and when he saw Jup, he no

longer doubted that some misfortune menaced Granite House.

“Captain Harding,” said he, “I must go; I can bear the journey. I must

go.”

Gideon Spilett approached Herbert; then, having looked at him,--

“Let us go, then!” said he.

The question was quickly decided whether Herbert should be carried on a

litter or in the cart which had brought Ayrton to the corral. The motion

of the litter would have been more easy for the wounded lad, but it

would have necessitated two bearers, that is to say, there would have

been two guns less for defense if an attack was made on the road. Would

they not, on the contrary, by employing the cart leave every arm free?

Was it impossible to place the mattress on which Herbert was lying in

it, and to advance with so much care that any jolt should be avoided? It

could be done.

The cart was brought. Pencroft harnessed the onager. Cyrus Harding and

the reporter raised Herbert’s mattress and placed it on the bottom of

the cart. The weather was fine. The sun’s bright rays glanced through

the trees.

“Are the guns ready?” asked Cyrus Harding.

They were. The engineer and Pencroft, each armed with a double-barreled

gun, and Gideon Spilett carrying his rifle, had nothing to do but start.

“Are you comfortable, Herbert?” asked the engineer.

“Ah, captain,” replied the lad, “don’t be uneasy, I shall not die on the

road!”

While speaking thus, it could be seen that the poor boy had called up

all his energy, and by the energy of a powerful will had collected his

failing strength.

The engineer felt his heart sink painfully. He still hesitated to

give the signal for departure; but that would have driven Herbert to

despair--killed him perhaps.

“Forward!” said Harding.

The gate of the corral was opened. Jup and Top, who knew when to be

silent, ran in advance. The cart came out, the gate was reclosed, and

the onager, led by Pencroft, advanced at a slow pace.

Certainly, it would have been safer to have taken a different road than

that which led straight from the corral to Granite House, but the cart

would have met with great difficulties in moving under the trees. It was

necessary, therefore, to follow this way, although it was well known to

the convicts.

Cyrus Harding and Gideon Spilett walked one on each side of the cart,

ready to answer to any attack. However, it was not probable that the

convicts would have yet left the plateau of Prospect Heights.

Neb’s note had evidently been written and sent as soon as the convicts

had shown themselves there. Now, this note was dated six o’clock in

the morning, and the active orang, accustomed to come frequently to the

corral, had taken scarcely three quarters of an hour to cross the five

miles which separated it from Granite House. They would, therefore, be

safe at that time, and if there was any occasion for firing, it would

probably not be until they were in the neighborhood of Granite House.

However, the colonists kept a strict watch. Top and Jup, the latter

armed with his club, sometimes in front, sometimes beating the wood at

the sides of the road, signalized no danger.

The cart advanced slowly under Pencroft’s guidance. It had left the

corral at half-past seven. An hour after, four out of the five miles

had been cleared, without any incident having occurred. The road was

as deserted as all that part of the Jacamar Wood which lay between the

Mercy and the lake. There was no occasion for any warning. The wood

appeared as deserted as on the day when the colonists first landed on

the island.

They approached the plateau. Another mile and they would see the bridge

over Creek Glycerine. Cyrus Harding expected to find it in its place;

supposing that the convicts would have crossed it, and that, after

having passed one of the streams which enclosed the plateau, they

would have taken the precaution to lower it again, so as to keep open a

retreat.

At length an opening in the trees allowed the sea-horizon to be seen.

But the cart continued its progress, for not one of its defenders

thought of abandoning it.

At that moment Pencroft stopped the onager, and in a hoarse voice,--

“Oh! the villains!” he exclaimed.

And he pointed to a thick smoke rising from the mill, the sheds, and the

buildings at the poultry-yard.

A man was moving about in the midst of the smoke. It was Neb.

His companions uttered a shout. He heard, and ran to meet them.

The convicts had left the plateau nearly half-an-hour before, having

devastated it!

“And Mr. Herbert?” asked Neb.

Gideon Spilett returned to the cart.

Herbert had lost consciousness!

Chapter 10

Of the convicts, the dangers which menaced Granite House, the ruins

with which the plateau was covered, the colonists thought no longer.

Herbert’s critical state outweighed all other considerations. Would the

removal prove fatal to him by causing some internal injury? The reporter

could not affirm it, but he and his companions almost despaired of

the result. The cart was brought to the bend of the river. There some

branches, disposed as a liner, received the mattress on which lay the

unconscious Herbert. Ten minutes after, Cyrus Harding, Spilett, and

Pencroft were at the foot of the cliff, leaving Neb to take the cart

on to the plateau of Prospect Heights. The lift was put in motion, and

Herbert was soon stretched on his bed in Granite House.

What cares were lavished on him to bring him back to life! He smiled for

a moment on finding himself in his room, but could scarcely even murmur

a few words, so great was his weakness. Gideon Spilett examined his

wounds. He feared to find them reopened, having been imperfectly healed.

There was nothing of the sort. From whence, then, came this prostration?

why was Herbert so much worse? The lad then fell into a kind of feverish

sleep, and the reporter and Pencroft remained near the bed. During this

time, Harding told Neb all that had happened at the corral, and Neb

recounted to his master the events of which the plateau had just been

the theater.

It was only during the preceding night that the convicts had appeared on

the edge of the forest, at the approaches to Creek Glycerine. Neb, who

was watching near the poultry-yard, had not hesitated to fire at one of

the pirates, who was about to cross the stream; but in the darkness he

could not tell whether the man had been hit or not. At any rate, it was

not enough to frighten away the band, and Neb had only just time to get

up to Granite House, where at least he was in safety.

But what was he to do there? How prevent the devastations with which the

convicts threatened the plateau? Had Neb any means by which to warn

his master? And, besides, in what situation were the inhabitants of the

corral themselves? Cyrus Harding and his companions had left on the 11th

of November, and it was now the 29th. It was, therefore, nineteen days

since Neb had had other news than that brought by Top--disastrous news:

Ayrton disappeared, Herbert severely wounded, the engineer, reporter,

and sailor, as it were, imprisoned in the corral!

What was he to do? asked poor Neb. Personally he had nothing to

fear, for the convicts could not reach him in Granite House. But the

buildings, the plantations, all their arrangements at the mercy of the

pirates! Would it not be best to let Cyrus Harding judge of what he

ought to do, and to warn him, at least, of the danger which threatened

him?

Neb then thought of employing Jup, and confiding a note to him. He knew

the orang’s great intelligence, which had been often put to the proof.

Jup understood the word corral, which had been frequently pronounced

before him, and it may be remembered, too, that he had often driven

the cart thither in company with Pencroft. Day had not yet dawned. The

active orang would know how to pass unperceived through the woods, of

which the convicts, besides, would think he was a native.

Neb did not hesitate. He wrote the note, he tied it to Jup’s neck, he

brought the ape to the door of Granite House, from which he let down a

long cord to the ground; then, several times he repeated these words,--

“Jup Jup! corral, corral!”

The creature understood, seized the cord, glided rapidly down the beach,

and disappeared in the darkness without the convicts’ attention having

been in the least excited.

“You did well, Neb,” said Harding, “but perhaps in not warning us you

would have done still better!”

And, in speaking thus, Cyrus Harding thought of Herbert, whose recovery

the removal had so seriously checked.

Neb ended his account. The convicts had not appeared at all on the

beach. Not knowing the number of the island’s inhabitants, they might

suppose that Granite House was defended by a large party. They must have

remembered that during the attack by the brig numerous shot had been

fired both from the lower and upper rocks, and no doubt they did not

wish to expose themselves. But the plateau of Prospect Heights was

open to them, and not covered by the fire of Granite House. They gave

themselves up, therefore, to their instinct of destruction,--plundering,

burning, devastating everything,--and only retiring half an hour before

the arrival of the colonists, whom they believed still confined in the

corral.

On their retreat, Neb hurried out. He climbed the plateau at the risk

of being perceived and fired at, tried to extinguish the fire which was

consuming the buildings of the poultry-yard, and had struggled, though

in vain, against it until the cart appeared at the edge of the wood.

Such had been these serious events. The presence of the convicts

constituted a permanent source of danger to the settlers in Lincoln

Island, until then so happy, and who might now expect still greater

misfortunes.

Spilett remained in Granite House with Herbert and Pencroft, while

Cyrus Harding, accompanied by Neb, proceeded to judge for himself of the

extent of the disaster.

It was fortunate that the convicts had not advanced to the foot of

Granite House. The workshop at the Chimneys would in that case not

have escaped destruction. But after all, this evil would have been more

easily reparable than the ruins accumulated on the plateau of Prospect

Heights. Harding and Neb proceeded towards the Mercy, and ascended its

left bank without meeting with any trace of the convicts; nor on the

other side of the river, in the depths of the wood, could they perceive

any suspicious indications.

Besides, it might be supposed that in all probability either the

convicts knew of the return of the settlers to Granite House, by having

seen them pass on the road from the corral, or, after the devastation of

the plateau, they had penetrated into Jacamar Wood, following the course

of the Mercy, and were thus ignorant of their return.

In the former case, they must have returned towards the corral, now

without defenders, and which contained valuable stores.

In the latter, they must have regained their encampment, and would wait

on opportunity to recommence the attack.

It was, therefore, possible to prevent them, but any enterprise to clear

the island was now rendered difficult by reason of Herbert’s condition.

Indeed, their whole force would have been barely sufficient to cope with

the convicts, and just now no one could leave Granite House.

The engineer and Neb arrived on the plateau. Desolation reigned

everywhere. The fields had been trampled over; the ears of wheat, which

were nearly full-grown, lay on the ground. The other plantations had not

suffered less.

The kitchen-garden was destroyed. Happily, Granite House possessed a

store of seed which would enable them to repair these misfortunes.

As to the wall and buildings of the poultry-yard and the onagers stable,

the fire had destroyed all. A few terrified creatures roamed over the

plateau. The birds, which during the fire had taken refuge on the waters

of the lake, had already returned to their accustomed spot, and were

dabbling on the banks. Everything would have to be reconstructed.

Cyrus Harding’s face, which was paler than usual, expressed an internal

anger which he commanded with difficulty, but he did not utter a word.

Once more he looked at his devastated fields, and at the smoke which

still rose from the ruins, then he returned to Granite House.

The following days were the saddest of any that the colonists had passed

on the island! Herbert’s weakness visibly increased. It appeared that

a more serious malady, the consequence of the profound physiological

disturbance he had gone through, threatened to declare itself, and

Gideon Spilett feared such an aggravation of his condition that he would

be powerless to fight against it!

In fact, Herbert remained in an almost continuous state of drowsiness,

and symptoms of delirium began to manifest themselves. Refreshing drinks

were the only remedies at the colonists’ disposal. The fever was not

as yet very high, but it soon appeared that it would probably recur at

regular intervals. Gideon Spilett first recognized this on the 6th of

December.

The poor boy, whose fingers, nose, and ears had become extremely

pale, was at first seized with slight shiverings, horripilations, and

tremblings. His pulse was weak and irregular, his skin dry, his thirst

intense. To this soon succeeded a hot fit; his face became flushed; his

skin reddened; his pulse quick; then a profuse perspiration broke out

after which the fever seemed to diminish. The attack had lasted nearly

five hours.

Gideon Spilett had not left Herbert, who, it was only too certain, was

now seized by an intermittent fever, and this fever must be cured at any

cost before it should assume a more serious aspect.

“And in order to cure it,” said Spilett to Cyrus Harding, “we need a

febrifuge.”

“A febrifuge--” answered the engineer. “We have neither Peruvian bark,

nor sulphate of quinine.”

“No,” said Gideon Spilett, “but there are willows on the border of

the lake, and the bark of the willow might, perhaps, prove to be a

substitute for quinine.”

“Let us try it without losing a moment,” replied Cyrus Harding.

The bark of the willow has, indeed, been justly considered as a

succedaneum for Peruvian bark, as has also that of the horse-chestnut

tree, the leaf of the holly, the snake-root, etc. It was evidently

necessary to make trial of this substance, although not so valuable as

Peruvian bark, and to employ it in its natural state, since they had no

means for extracting its essence.

Cyrus Harding went himself to cut from the trunk of a species of black

willow, a few pieces of bark; he brought them back to Granite House, and

reduced them to a powder, which was administered that same evening to

Herbert.

The night passed without any important change. Herbert was somewhat

delirious, but the fever did not reappear in the night, and did not

return either during the following day.

Pencroft again began to hope. Gideon Spilett said nothing. It might be

that the fever was not quotidian, but tertian, and that it would return

next day. Therefore, he awaited the next day with the greatest anxiety.

It might have been remarked besides that during this period Herbert

remained utterly prostrate, his head weak and giddy. Another symptom

alarmed the reporter to the highest degree. Herbert’s liver became

congested, and soon a more intense delirium showed that his brain was

also affected.

Gideon Spilett was overwhelmed by this new complication. He took the

engineer aside.

“It is a malignant fever,” said he.

“A malignant fever!” cried Harding. “You are mistaken, Spilett. A

malignant fever does not declare itself spontaneously; its germ must

previously have existed.”

“I am not mistaken,” replied the reporter. “Herbert no doubt contracted

the germ of this fever in the marshes of the island. He has already had

one attack; should a second come on and should we not be able to prevent

a third, he is lost.”

“But the willow bark?”

“That is insufficient,” answered the reporter, “and the third attack of

a malignant fever, which is not arrested by means of quinine, is always

fatal.”

Fortunately, Pencroft heard nothing of this conversation or he would

have gone mad.

It may be imagined what anxiety the engineer and the reporter suffered

during the day of the 7th of December and the following night.

Towards the middle of the day the second attack came on. The crisis was

terrible. Herbert felt himself sinking. He stretched his arms towards

Cyrus Harding, towards Spilett, towards Pencroft. He was so young to

die! The scene was heart-rending. They were obliged to send Pencroft

away.

The fit lasted five hours. It was evident that Herbert could not survive

a third.

The night was frightful. In his delirium Herbert uttered words which

went to the hearts of his companions. He struggled with the convicts,

he called to Ayrton, he poured forth entreaties to that mysterious

being,--that powerful unknown protector,--whose image was stamped upon

his mind; then he again fell into a deep exhaustion which completely

prostrated him. Several times Gideon Spilett thought that the poor boy

was dead.

The next day, the 8th of December, was but a succession of the fainting

fits. Herbert’s thin hands clutched the sheets. They had administered

further doses of pounded bark, but the reporter expected no result from

it.

“If before tomorrow morning we have not given him a more energetic

febrifuge,” said the reporter, “Herbert will be dead.”

Night arrived--the last night, it was too much to be feared, of the

good, brave, intelligent boy, so far in advance of his years, and who

was loved by all as their own child. The only remedy which existed

against this terrible malignant fever, the only specific which could

overcome it, was not to be found in Lincoln Island.

During the night of the 8th of December, Herbert was seized by a more

violent delirium. His liver was fearfully congested, his brain affected,

and already it was impossible for him to recognize any one.

Would he live until the next day, until that third attack which

must infallibly carry him off? It was not probable. His strength was

exhausted, and in the intervals of fever he lay as one dead.

Towards three o’clock in the morning Herbert uttered a piercing cry.

He seemed to be torn by a supreme convulsion. Neb, who was near him,

terrified, ran into the next room where his companions were watching.

Top, at that moment, barked in a strange manner.

All rushed in immediately and managed to restrain the dying boy, who was

endeavoring to throw himself out of his bed, while Spilett, taking his

arm, felt his pulse gradually quicken.

It was five in the morning. The rays of the rising sun began to shine in

at the windows of Granite House. It promised to be a fine day, and this

day was to be poor Herbert’s last!

A ray glanced on the table placed near the bed.

Suddenly Pencroft, uttering a cry, pointed to the table.

On it lay a little oblong box, of which the cover bore these

words:--“SULPHATE OF QUININE.”

Chapter 11

Gideon Spilett took the box and opened it. It contained nearly two

hundred grains of a white powder, a few particles of which he carried to

his lips. The extreme bitterness of the substance precluded all doubt;

it was certainly the precious extract of quinine, that pre-eminent

antifebrile.

This powder must be administered to Herbert without delay. How it came

there might be discussed later.

“Some coffee!” said Spilett.

In a few moments Neb brought a cup of the warm infusion. Gideon Spilett

threw into it about eighteen grains of quinine, and they succeeded in

making Herbert drink the mixture.

There was still time, for the third attack of the malignant fever had

not yet shown itself. How they longed to be able to add that it would

not return!

Besides, it must be remarked, the hopes of all had now revived. The

mysterious influence had been again exerted, and in a critical moment,

when they had despaired of it.

In a few hours Herbert was much calmer. The colonists could now discuss

this incident. The intervention of the stranger was more evident than

ever. But how had he been able to penetrate during the night into

Granite House? It was inexplicable, and, in truth, the proceedings of

the genius of the island were not less mysterious than was that genius

himself. During this day the sulphate of quinine was administered to

Herbert every three hours.

The next day some improvement in Herbert’s condition was apparent.

Certainly, he was not out of danger, intermittent fevers being subject

to frequent and dangerous relapses, but the most assiduous care was

bestowed on him. And besides, the specific was at hand; nor, doubtless,

was he who had brought it far distant! And the hearts of all were

animated by returning hope.

This hope was not disappointed. Ten days after, on the 20th of December,

Herbert’s convalescence commenced.

He was still weak, and strict diet had been imposed upon him, but no

access of fever supervened. And then, the poor boy submitted with such

docility to all the prescriptions ordered him! He longed so to get well!

Pencroft was as a man who has been drawn up from the bottom of an abyss.

Fits of joy approaching delirium seized him. When the time for the third

attack had passed by, he nearly suffocated the reporter in his embrace.

Since then, he always called him Dr. Spilett.

The real doctor, however, remained undiscovered.

“We will find him!” repeated the sailor.

Certainly, this man, whoever he was, might expect a somewhat too

energetic embrace from the worthy Pencroft!

The month of December ended, and with it the year 1867, during which

the colonists of Lincoln Island had of late been so severely tried.

They commenced the year 1868 with magnificent weather, great heat, and

a tropical temperature, delightfully cooled by the sea-breeze. Herbert’s

recovery progressed, and from his bed, placed near one of the windows of

Granite House, he could inhale the fresh air, charged with ozone, which

could not fail to restore his health. His appetite returned, and what

numberless delicate, savory little dishes Neb prepared for him!

“It is enough to make one wish to have a fever oneself!” said Pencroft.

During all this time, the convicts did not once appear in the vicinity

of Granite House. There was no news of Ayrton, and though the engineer

and Herbert still had some hopes of finding him again, their companions

did not doubt but that the unfortunate man had perished. However, this

uncertainty could not last, and when once the lad should have recovered,

the expedition, the result of which must be so important, would be

undertaken. But they would have to wait a month, perhaps, for all

the strength of the colony must be put into requisition to obtain

satisfaction from the convicts.

However, Herbert’s convalescence progressed rapidly. The congestion of

the liver had disappeared, and his wounds might be considered completely

healed.

During the month of January, important work was done on the plateau

of Prospect Heights; but it consisted solely in saving as much as was

possible from the devastated crops, either of corn or vegetables. The

grain and the plants were gathered, so as to provide a new harvest for

the approaching half-season. With regard to rebuilding the poultry-yard,

wall, or stables, Cyrus Harding preferred to wait. While he and his

companions were in pursuit of the convicts, the latter might very

probably pay another visit to the plateau, and it would be useless to

give them an opportunity of recommencing their work of destruction. When

the island should be cleared of these miscreants, they would set about

rebuilding. The young convalescent began to get up in the second week of

January, at first for one hour a day, then two, then three. His strength

visibly returned, so vigorous was his constitution. He was now eighteen

years of age. He was tall, and promised to become a man of noble and

commanding presence. From this time his recovery, while still requiring

care,--and Dr. Spilett was very strict,--made rapid progress. Towards

the end of the month, Herbert was already walking about on Prospect

Heights, and the beach.

He derived, from several sea-baths, which he took in company with

Pencroft and Neb, the greatest possible benefit. Cyrus Harding thought

he might now settle the day for their departure, for which the 15th of

February was fixed. The nights, very clear at this time of year, would

be favorable to the researches they intended to make all over the

island.

The necessary preparations for this exploration were now commenced, and

were important, for the colonists had sworn not to return to Granite

House until their twofold object had been achieved; on the one hand, to

exterminate the convicts, and rescue Ayrton, if he was still living; on

the other, to discover who it was that presided so effectually over the

fortunes of the colony.

Of Lincoln Island, the settlers knew thoroughly all the eastern coast

from Claw Cape to the Mandible Capes, the extensive Tadorn Marsh, the

neighborhood of Lake Grant, Jacamar Wood, between the road to the corral

and the Mercy, the courses of the Mercy and Red Creek, and lastly, the

spurs of Mount Franklin, among which the corral had been established.

They had explored, though only in an imperfect manner, the vast shore

of Washington Bay from Claw Cape to Reptile End, the woody and marshy

border of the west coast, and the interminable downs, ending at the open

mouth of Shark Gulf. But they had in no way surveyed the woods which

covered the Serpentine Peninsula, all to the right of the Mercy, the

left bank of Falls River, and the wilderness of spurs and valleys which

supported three quarters of the base of Mount Franklin, to the east, the

north, and the west, and where doubtless many secret retreats existed.

Consequently, many millions of acres of the island had still escaped

their investigations.

It was, therefore, decided that the expedition should be carried through

the Far West, so as to include all that region situated on the right of

the Mercy.

It might, perhaps, be better worth while to go direct to the corral,

where it might be supposed that the convicts had again taken refuge,

either to pillage or to establish themselves there. But either the

devastation of the corral would have been an accomplished fact by

this time, and it would be too late to prevent it, or it had been the

convicts’ interest to entrench themselves there, and there would be

still time to go and turn them out on their return.

Therefore, after some discussion, the first plan was adhered to, and the

settlers resolved to proceed through the wood to Reptile End. They would

make their way with their hatchets, and thus lay the first draft of a

road which would place Granite House in communication with the end of

the peninsula for a length of from sixteen to seventeen miles.

The cart was in good condition. The onagers, well rested, could go a

long journey. Provisions, camp effects, a portable stove, and various

utensils were packed in the cart, as also weapons and ammunition,

carefully chosen from the now complete arsenal of Granite House. But it

was necessary to remember that the convicts were, perhaps, roaming about

the woods, and that in the midst of these thick forests a shot might

quickly be fired and received. It was therefore resolved that the little

band of settlers should remain together and not separate under any

pretext whatever.

It was also decided that no one should remain at Granite House. Top

and Jup themselves were to accompany the expedition; the inaccessible

dwelling needed no guard. The 14th of February, eve of the departure,

was consecrated entirely to repose, and--thanksgiving addressed by the

colonists to the Creator. A place in the cart was reserved for Herbert,

who, though thoroughly convalescent, was still a little weak. The next

morning, at daybreak, Cyrus Harding took the necessary measures to

protect Granite House from any invasion. The ladders, which were

formerly used for the ascent, were brought to the Chimneys and buried

deep in the sand, so that they might be available on the return of the

colonists, for the machinery of the lift had been taken to pieces, and

nothing of the apparatus remained. Pencroft stayed the last in Granite

House in order to finish this work, and he then lowered himself down

by means of a double rope held below, and which, when once hauled down,

left no communication between the upper landing and the beach.

The weather was magnificent.

“We shall have a warm day of it,” said the reporter, laughing.

“Pooh! Dr. Spilett,” answered Pencroft, “we shall walk under the shade

of the trees and shan’t even see the sun!”

“Forward!” said the engineer.

The cart was waiting on the beach before the Chimneys. The reporter

made Herbert take his place in it during the first hours at least of the

journey, and the lad was obliged to submit to his doctor’s orders.

Neb placed himself at the onagers’ heads. Cyrus Harding, the reporter,

and the sailor, walked in front. Top bounded joyfully along. Herbert

offered a seat in his vehicle to Jup, who accepted it without ceremony.

The moment for departure had arrived, and the little band set out.

The cart first turned the angle of the mouth of the Mercy, then, having

ascended the left bank for a mile, crossed the bridge, at the other side

of which commenced the road to Port Balloon, and there the explorers,

leaving this road on their left, entered the cover of the immense woods

which formed the region of the Far West.

For the first two miles the widely scattered trees allowed the cart to

pass with ease; from time to time it became necessary to cut away a few

creepers and bushes, but no serious obstacle impeded the progress of the

colonists.

The thick foliage of the trees threw a grateful shade on the ground.

Deodars, Douglas firs, casuarinas, banksias, gum-trees, dragon-trees,

and other well-known species, succeeded each other far as the eye could

reach. The feathered tribes of the island were all represented--grouse,

jacamars, pheasants, lories, as well as the chattering cockatoos,

parrots, and paroquets. Agouties, kangaroos, and capybaras fled swiftly

at their approach; and all this reminded the settlers of the first

excursions they had made on their arrival at the island.

“Nevertheless,” observed Cyrus Harding, “I notice that these creatures,

both birds and quadrupeds, are more timid than formerly. These woods

have, therefore, been recently traversed by the convicts, and we shall

certainly find some traces of them.”

And, in fact, in several places they could distinguish traces, more or

less recent, of the passage of a band of men--here branches broken off

the trees, perhaps to mark out the way; there the ashes of a fire, and

footprints in clayey spots; but nothing which appeared to belong to a

settled encampment.

The engineer had recommended his companions to refrain from hunting. The

reports of the firearms might give the alarm to the convicts, who

were, perhaps, roaming through the forest. Moreover, the hunters would

necessarily ramble some distance from the cart, which it was dangerous

to leave unguarded.

In the afterpart of the day, when about six miles from Granite House,

their progress became much more difficult. In order to make their way

through some thickets, they were obliged to cut down trees. Before

entering such places Harding was careful to send in Top and Jup, who

faithfully accomplished their commission, and when the dog and orang

returned without giving any warning, there was evidently nothing to

fear, either from convicts or wild beasts, two varieties of the animal

kingdom, whose ferocious instincts placed them on the same level. On the

evening of the first day the colonists encamped about nine miles from

Granite House, on the border of a little stream falling into the Mercy,

and of the existence of which they had till then been ignorant; it

evidently, however, belonged to the hydiographical system to which the

soil owed its astonishing fertility. The settlers made a hearty meal,

for their appetites were sharpened, and measures were then taken that

the night might be passed in safety. If the engineer had had only to

deal with wild beasts, jaguars or others, he would have simply lighted

fires all around his camp, which would have sufficed for its defense;

but the convicts would be rather attracted than terrified by the flames,

and it was, therefore, better to be surrounded by the profound darkness

of night.

The watch was, however, carefully organized. Two of the settlers were

to watch together, and every two hours it was agreed that they should

be relieved by their comrades. And so, notwithstanding his wish to the

contrary, Herbert was exempted from guard. Pencroft and Gideon Spilett

in one party, the engineer and Neb in another, mounted guard in turns

over the camp.

The night, however, was but of few hours. The darkness was due rather to

the thickness of the foliage than to the disappearance of the sun.

The silence was scarcely disturbed by the howling of jaguars and the

chattering of the monkeys, the latter appearing to particularly irritate

Master Jup. The night passed without incident, and on the next day, the

15th of February, the journey through the forest, tedious rather than

difficult, was continued. This day they could not accomplish more than

six miles, for every moment they were obliged to cut a road with their

hatchets.

Like true settlers, the colonists spared the largest and most beautiful

trees, which would besides have cost immense labor to fell, and the

small ones only were sacrificed, but the result was that the road took a

very winding direction, and lengthened itself by numerous detours.

During the day Herbert discovered several new specimens not before met

with in the island, such as the tree-fern, with its leaves spread out

like the waters of a fountain, locust-trees, on the long pods of

which the onagers browsed greedily, and which supplied a sweet pulp

of excellent flavor. There, too, the colonists again found groups of

magnificent kauries, their cylindrical trunks, crowded with a cone

of verdure, rising to a height of two hundred feet. These were the

tree-kings of New Zealand, as celebrated as the cedars of Lebanon.

As to the fauna, there was no addition to those species already known to

the hunters. Nevertheless, they saw, though unable to get near them, a

couple of those large birds peculiar to Australia, a sort of cassowary,

called emu, five feet in height, and with brown plumage, which belong

to the tribe of waders. Top darted after them as fast as his four legs

could carry him, but the emus distanced him with ease, so prodigious was

their speed.

As to the traces left by the convicts, a few more were discovered. Some

footprints found near an apparently recently extinguished fire were

attentively examined by the settlers. By measuring them one after the

other, according to their length and breadth, the marks of five men’s

feet were easily distinguished. The five convicts had evidently

camped on this spot; but,--and this was the object of so minute an

examination,--a sixth footprint could not be discovered, which in that

case would have been that of Ayrton.

“Ayrton was not with them!” said Herbert.

“No,” answered Pencroft, “and if he was not with them, it was because

the wretches had already murdered him! but then these rascals have not a

den to which they may be tracked like tigers!”

“No,” replied the reporter, “it is more probable that they wander at

random, and it is their interest to rove about until the time when they

will be masters of the island!”

“The masters of the island!” exclaimed the sailor; “the masters of the

island!...” he repeated, and his voice was choked, as if his throat was

seized in an iron grasp. Then in a calmer tone, “Do you know, Captain

Harding,” said he, “what the ball is which I have rammed into my gun?”

“No, Pencroft!”

“It is the ball that went through Herbert’s chest, and I promise you it

won’t miss its mark!”

But this just retaliation would not bring Ayrton back to life, and from

the examination of the footprints left in the ground, they must, alas!

conclude that all hopes of ever seeing him again must be abandoned.

That evening they encamped fourteen miles from Granite House, and Cyrus

Harding calculated that they could not be more than five miles from

Reptile Point.

And indeed, the next day the extremity of the peninsula was reached, and

the whole length of the forest had been traversed; but there was nothing

to indicate the retreat in which the convicts had taken refuge, nor

that, no less secret, which sheltered the mysterious unknown.

Chapter 12

The next day, the 18th of February, was devoted to the exploration

of all that wooded region forming the shore from Reptile End to Falls

River. The colonists were able to search this forest thoroughly, for, as

it was comprised between the two shores of the Serpentine Peninsula, it

was only from three to four miles in breadth. The trees, both by their

height and their thick foliage, bore witness to the vegetative power of

the soil, more astonishing here than in any other part of the island.

One might have said that a corner from the virgin forests of America or

Africa had been transported into this temperate zone. This led them to

conclude that the superb vegetation found a heat in this soil, damp in

its upper layer, but warmed in the interior by volcanic fires, which

could not belong to a temperate climate. The most frequently occurring

trees were knaries and eucalypti of gigantic dimensions.

But the colonists’ object was not simply to admire the magnificent

vegetation. They knew already that in this respect Lincoln Island would

have been worthy to take the first rank in the Canary group, to which

the first name given was that of the Happy Isles. Now, alas! their

island no longer belonged to them entirely; others had taken possession

of it, miscreants polluted its shores, and they must be destroyed to the

last man.

No traces were found on the western coast, although they were carefully

sought for. No more footprints, no more broken branches, no more

deserted camps.

“This does not surprise me,” said Cyrus Harding to his companions.

“The convicts first landed on the island in the neighborhood of Flotsam

Point, and they immediately plunged into the Far West forests, after

crossing Tadorn Marsh. They then followed almost the same route that we

took on leaving Granite House. This explains the traces we found in the

wood. But, arriving on the shore, the convicts saw at once that they

would discover no suitable retreat there, and it was then that, going

northwards again, they came upon the corral.”

“Where they have perhaps returned,” said Pencroft.

“I do not think so,” answered the engineer, “for they would naturally

suppose that our researches would be in that direction. The corral is

only a storehouse to them, and not a definitive encampment.”

“I am of Cyrus’ opinion,” said the reporter, “and I think that it is

among the spurs of Mount Franklin that the convicts will have made their

lair.”

“Then, captain, straight to the corral!” cried Pencroft. “We must finish

them off, and till now we have only lost time!”

“No, my friend,” replied the engineer; “you forget that we have a reason

for wishing to know if the forests of the Far West do not contain some

habitation. Our exploration has a double object, Pencroft. If, on the

one hand, we have to chastise crime, we have, on the other, an act of

gratitude to perform.”

“That was well said, captain,” replied the sailor, “but, all the same,

it is my opinion that we shall not find the gentleman until he pleases.”

And truly Pencroft only expressed the opinion of all. It was probable

that the stranger’s retreat was not less mysterious than was he himself.

That evening the cart halted at the mouth of Falls River. The camp was

organized as usual, and the customary precautions were taken for the

night. Herbert, become again the healthy and vigorous lad he was before

his illness, derived great benefit from this life in the open air,

between the sea breezes and the vivifying air from the forests. His

place was no longer in the cart, but at the head of the troop.

The next day, the 19th of February, the colonists, leaving the shore,

where, beyond the mouth, basalts of every shape were so picturesquely

piled up, ascended the river by its left bank. The road had been already

partly cleared in their former excursions made from the corral to the

west coast. The settlers were now about six miles from Mount Franklin.

The engineer’s plan was this:--To minutely survey the valley forming

the bed of the river, and to cautiously approach the neighborhood of the

corral; if the corral was occupied, to seize it by force; if it was not,

to entrench themselves there and make it the center of the operations

which had for their object the exploration of Mount Franklin.

This plan was unanimously approved by the colonists, for they were

impatient to regain entire possession of their island.

They made their way then along the narrow valley separating two of the

largest spurs of Mount Franklin. The trees, crowded on the river’s bank,

became rare on the upper slopes of the mountain. The ground was hilly

and rough, very suitable for ambushes, and over which they did not

venture without extreme precaution. Top and Jup skirmished on the

flanks, springing right and left through the thick brushwood, and

emulating each other in intelligence and activity. But nothing showed

that the banks of the stream had been recently frequented--nothing

announced either the presence or the proximity of the convicts. Towards

five in the evening the cart stopped nearly 600 feet from the palisade.

A semicircular screen of trees still hid it.

It was necessary to reconnoiter the corral, in order to ascertain if it

was occupied. To go there openly, in broad daylight, when the convicts

were probably in ambush, would be to expose themselves, as poor Herbert

had done, to the firearms of the ruffians. It was better, then, to wait

until night came on.

However, Gideon Spilett wished without further delay to reconnoiter the

approaches to the corral, and Pencroft, who was quite out of patience,

volunteered to accompany him.

“No, my friends,” said the engineer, “wait till night. I will not allow

one of you to expose himself in open day.”

“But, captain--” answered the sailor, little disposed to obey.

“I beg of you, Pencroft,” said the engineer.

“Very well!” replied the sailor, who vented his anger in another way, by

bestowing on the convicts the worst names in his maritime vocabulary.

The colonists remained, therefore, near the cart, and carefully watched

the neighboring parts of the forest.

Three hours passed thus. The wind had fallen, and absolute silence

reigned under the great trees. The snapping of the smallest twig, a

footstep on the dry leaves, the gliding of a body among the grass, would

have been heard without difficulty. All was quiet. Besides, Top, lying

on the grass, his head stretched out on his paws, gave no sign of

uneasiness. At eight o’clock the day appeared far enough advanced for

the reconnaissance to be made under favorable conditions. Gideon Spilett

declared himself ready to set out accompanied by Pencroft. Cyrus Harding

consented. Top and Jup were to remain with the engineer, Herbert, and

Neb, for a bark or a cry at a wrong moment would give the alarm.

“Do not be imprudent,” said Harding to the reporter and Pencroft, “you

have not to gain possession of the corral, but only to find out whether

it is occupied or not.”

“All right,” answered Pencroft.

And the two departed.

Under the trees, thanks to the thickness of their foliage, the obscurity

rendered any object invisible beyond a radius of from thirty to forty

feet. The reporter and Pencroft, halting at any suspicious sound,

advanced with great caution.

They walked a little distance apart from each other so as to offer a

less mark for a shot. And, to tell the truth, they expected every moment

to hear a report. Five minutes after leaving the cart, Gideon Spilett

and Pencroft arrived at the edge of the wood before the clearing beyond

which rose the palisade.

They stopped. A few straggling beams still fell on the field clear of

trees. Thirty feet distant was the gate of the corral, which appeared

to be closed. This thirty feet, which it was necessary to cross from

the wood to the palisade, constituted the dangerous zone, to borrow

a ballistic term: in fact, one or more bullets fired from behind the

palisade might knock over any one who ventured on to this zone. Gideon

Spilett and the sailor were not men to draw back, but they knew that

any imprudence on their part, of which they would be the first victims,

would fall afterwards on their companions. If they themselves were

killed, what would become of Harding, Neb, and Herbert?

But Pencroft, excited at feeling himself so near the corral where he

supposed the convicts had taken refuge, was about to press forward, when

the reporter held him back with a grasp of iron.

“In a few minutes it will be quite dark,” whispered Spilett in the

sailor’s ear, “then will be the time to act.”

Pencroft, convulsively clasping the butt-end of his gun, restrained his

energies, and waited, swearing to himself.

Soon the last of the twilight faded away. Darkness, which seemed as if

it issued from the dense forest, covered the clearing. Mount Franklin

rose like an enormous screen before the western horizon, and night

spread rapidly over all, as it does in regions of low latitudes. Now was

the time.

The reporter and Pencroft, since posting themselves on the edge of the

wood, had not once lost sight of the palisade. The corral appeared to

be absolutely deserted. The top of the palisade formed a line, a

little darker than the surrounding shadow, and nothing disturbed its

distinctness. Nevertheless, if the convicts were there, they must have

posted one of their number to guard against any surprise.

Spilett grasped his companion’s hand, and both crept towards the corral,

their guns ready to fire.

They reached the gate without the darkness being illuminated by a single

ray of light.

Pencroft tried to push open the gate, which, as the reporter and he had

supposed, was closed. However, the sailor was able to ascertain that the

outer bars had not been put up. It might, then, be concluded that the

convicts were there in the corral, and that very probably they had

fastened the gate in such a way that it could not be forced open.

Gideon Spilett and Pencroft listened.

Not a sound could be heard inside the palisade. The musmons and the

goats, sleeping no doubt in their huts, in no way disturbed the calm of

night.

The reporter and the sailor hearing nothing, asked themselves whether

they had not better scale the palisades and penetrate into the corral.

This would have been contrary to Cyrus Harding’s instructions.

It is true that the enterprise might succeed, but it might also fail.

Now, if the convicts were suspecting nothing, if they knew nothing of

the expedition against them, if, lastly, there now existed a chance

of surprising them, ought this chance to be lost by inconsiderately

attempting to cross the palisades?

This was not the reporter’s opinion. He thought it better to wait until

all the settlers were collected together before attempting to penetrate

into the corral. One thing was certain, that it was possible to reach

the palisade without being seen, and also that it did not appear to be

guarded. This point settled, there was nothing to be done but to return

to the cart, where they would consult.

Pencroft probably agreed with this decision, for he followed the

reporter without making any objection when the latter turned back to the

wood.

In a few minutes the engineer was made acquainted with the state of

affairs.

“Well,” said he, after a little thought, “I now have reason to believe

that the convicts are not in the corral.”

“We shall soon know,” said Pencroft, “when we have scaled the palisade.”

“To the corral, my friends!” said Cyrus Harding.

“Shall we leave the cart in the wood?” asked Neb.

“No,” replied the engineer, “it is our wagon of ammunition and

provisions, and, if necessary, it would serve as an entrenchment.”

“Forward, then!” said Gideon Spilett.

The cart emerged from the wood and began to roll noiselessly towards the

palisade. The darkness was now profound, the silence as complete as

when Pencroft and the reporter crept over the ground. The thick grass

completely muffled their footsteps. The colonists held themselves ready

to fire. Jup, at Pencroft’s orders, kept behind. Neb led Top in a leash,

to prevent him from bounding forward.

The clearing soon came in sight. It was deserted. Without hesitating,

the little band moved towards the palisade. In a short space of time the

dangerous zone was passed. Neb remained at the onagers’ heads to hold

them. The engineer, the reporter, Herbert, and Pencroft, proceeded to

the door, in order to ascertain if it was barricaded inside. It was

open!

“What do you say now?” asked the engineer, turning to the sailor and

Spilett.

Both were stupefied.

“I can swear,” said Pencroft, “that this gate was shut just now!”

The colonists now hesitated. Were the convicts in the corral when

Pencroft and the reporter made their reconnaissance? It could not be

doubted, as the gate then closed could only have been opened by them.

Were they still there, or had one of their number just gone out?

All these questions presented themselves simultaneously to the minds of

the colonists, but how could they be answered?

At that moment, Herbert, who had advanced a few steps into the

enclosure, drew back hurriedly, and seized Harding’s hand.

“What’s the matter?” asked the engineer.

“A light!”

“In the house?”

“Yes!”

All five advanced and indeed, through the window fronting them, they saw

glimmering a feeble light. Cyrus Harding made up his mind rapidly. “It

is our only chance,” said he to his companions, “of finding the convicts

collected in this house, suspecting nothing! They are in our power!

Forward!” The colonists crossed through the enclosure, holding their

guns ready in their hands. The cart had been left outside under the

charge of Jup and Top, who had been prudently tied to it.

Cyrus Harding, Pencroft, and Gideon Spilett on one side, Herbert and Neb

on the other, going along by the palisade, surveyed the absolutely dark

and deserted corral.

In a few moments they were near the closed door of the house.

Harding signed to his companions not to stir, and approached the window,

then feebly lighted by the inner light.

He gazed into the apartment.

On the table burned a lantern. Near the table was the bed formerly used

by Ayrton.

On the bed lay the body of a man.

Suddenly Cyrus Harding drew back, and in a hoarse voice,--“Ayrton!” he

exclaimed.

Immediately the door was forced rather than opened, and the colonists

rushed into the room.

Ayrton appeared to be asleep. His countenance showed that he had long

and cruelly suffered. On his wrists and ankles could be seen great

bruises.

Harding bent over him.

“Ayrton!” cried the engineer, seizing the arm of the man whom he had

just found again under such unexpected circumstances.

At this exclamation Ayrton opened his eyes, and, gazing at Harding, then

at the others,--

“You!” he cried, “you?”

“Ayrton! Ayrton!” repeated Harding.

“Where am I?”

“In the house in the corral!”

“Alone?”

“Yes!”

“But they will come back!” cried Ayrton. “Defend yourselves! defend

yourselves!”

And he fell back exhausted.

“Spilett,” exclaimed the engineer, “we may be attacked at any moment.

Bring the cart into the corral. Then, barricade the door, and all come

back here.”

Pencroft, Neb, and the reporter hastened to execute the engineer’s

orders. There was not a moment to be lost. Perhaps even now the cart was

in the hands of the convicts!

In a moment the reporter and his two companions had crossed the corral

and reached the gate of the palisade behind which Top was heard growling

sullenly.

The engineer, leaving Ayrton for an instant, came out ready to fire.

Herbert was at his side. Both surveyed the crest of the spur overlooking

the corral. If the convicts were lying in ambush there, they might knock

the settlers over one after the other.

At that moment the moon appeared in the east, above the black curtain of

the forest, and a white sheet of light spread over the interior of the

enclosure. The corral, with its clumps of trees, the little stream which

watered it, its wide carpet of grass, was suddenly illuminated. From

the side of the mountain, the house and a part of the palisade stood

out white in the moonlight. On the opposite side towards the door, the

enclosure remained dark. A black mass soon appeared. This was the cart

entering the circle of light, and Cyrus Harding could hear the noise

made by the door, as his companions shut it and fastened the interior

bars.

But, at that moment, Top, breaking loose, began to bark furiously and

rush to the back of the corral, to the right of the house.

“Be ready to fire, my friends!” cried Harding.

The colonists raised their pieces and waited the moment to fire.

Top still barked, and Jup, running towards the dog, uttered shrill

cries.

The colonists followed him, and reached the borders of the little

stream, shaded by large trees. And there, in the bright moonlight, what

did they see? Five corpses, stretched on the bank!

They were those of the convicts who, four months previously, had landed

on Lincoln Island!

Chapter 13

How had it happened? who had killed the convicts? Was it Ayrton? No, for

a moment before he was dreading their return.

But Ayrton was now in a profound stupor, from which it was no longer

possible to rouse him. After uttering those few words he had again

become unconscious, and had fallen back motionless on the bed.

The colonists, a prey to a thousand confused thoughts, under the

influence of violent excitement, waited all night, without leaving

Ayrton’s house, or returning to the spot where lay the bodies of the

convicts. It was very probable that Ayrton would not be able to throw

any light on the circumstances under which the bodies had been found,

since he himself was not aware that he was in the corral. But at any

rate he would be in a position to give an account of what had taken

place before this terrible execution. The next day Ayrton awoke from his

torpor, and his companions cordially manifested all the joy they felt,

on seeing him again, almost safe and sound, after a hundred and four

days separation.

Ayrton then in a few words recounted what had happened, or, at least, as

much as he knew.

The day after his arrival at the corral, on the 10th of last November,

at nightfall, he was surprised by the convicts, who had scaled the

palisade. They bound and gagged him; then he was led to a dark cavern,

at the foot of Mount Franklin, where the convicts had taken refuge.

His death had been decided upon, and the next day the convicts were

about to kill him, when one of them recognized him and called him by

the name which he bore in Australia. The wretches had no scruples as to

murdering Ayrton! They spared Ben Joyce!

But from that moment Ayrton was exposed to the importunities of his

former accomplices. They wished him to join them again, and relied upon

his aid to enable them to gain possession of Granite House, to penetrate

into that hitherto inaccessible dwelling, and to become masters of the

island, after murdering the colonists!

Ayrton remained firm. The once convict, now repentant and pardoned,

would rather die than betray his companions. Ayrton--bound, gagged, and

closely watched--lived in this cave for four months.

Nevertheless the convicts had discovered the corral a short time after

their arrival in the island, and since then they had subsisted on

Ayrton’s stores, but did not live at the corral.

On the 11th of November, two of the villains, surprised by the

colonists’ arrival, fired at Herbert, and one of them returned, boasting

of having killed one of the inhabitants of the island; but he returned

alone. His companion, as is known, fell by Cyrus Harding’s dagger.

Ayrton’s anxiety and despair may be imagined when he learned the news of

Herbert’s death. The settlers were now only four, and, as it seemed,

at the mercy of the convicts. After this event, and during all the

time that the colonists, detained by Herbert’s illness, remained in the

corral, the pirates did not leave their cavern, and even after they had

pillaged the plateau of Prospect Heights, they did not think it prudent

to abandon it.

The ill-treatment inflicted on Ayrton was now redoubled. His hands and

feet still bore the bloody marks of the cords which bound him day and

night. Every moment he expected to be put to death, nor did it appear

possible that he could escape.

Matters remained thus until the third week of February. The convicts,

still watching for a favorable opportunity, rarely quitted their

retreat, and only made a few hunting excursions, either to the interior

of the island, or the south coast.

Ayrton had no further news of his friends, and relinquished all hope

of ever seeing them again. At last, the unfortunate man, weakened

by ill-treatment, fell into a prostration so profound that sight and

hearing failed him. From that moment, that is to say, since the last two

days, he could give no information whatever of what had occurred.

“But, Captain Harding,” he added, “since I was imprisoned in that

cavern, how is it that I find myself in the corral?”

“How is it that the convicts are lying yonder dead, in the middle of the

enclosure?” answered the engineer.

“Dead!” cried Ayrton, half rising from his bed, notwithstanding his

weakness.

His companions supported him. He wished to get up, and with their

assistance he did so. They then proceeded together towards the little

stream.

It was now broad daylight.

There, on the bank, in the position in which they had been stricken

by death in its most instantaneous form, lay the corpses of the five

convicts!

Ayrton was astounded. Harding and his companions looked at him without

uttering a word. On a sign from the engineer, Neb and Pencroft examined

the bodies, already stiffened by the cold.

They bore no apparent trace of any wound.

Only, after carefully examining them, Pencroft found on the forehead of

one, on the chest of another, on the back of this one, on the shoulder

of that, a little red spot, a sort of scarcely visible bruise, the cause

of which it was impossible to conjecture.

“It is there that they have been struck!” said Cyrus Harding.

“But with what weapon?” cried the reporter.

“A weapon, lightning-like in its effects, and of which we have not the

secret!”

“And who has struck the blow?” asked Pencroft.

“The avenging power of the island,” replied Harding, “he who brought you

here, Ayrton, whose influence has once more manifested itself, who does

for us all that which we cannot do for ourselves, and who, his will

accomplished, conceals himself from us.”

“Let us make search for him, then!” exclaimed Pencroft.

“Yes, we will search for him,” answered Harding, “but we shall not

discover this powerful being who performs such wonders, until he pleases

to call us to him!”

This invisible protection, which rendered their own action unavailing,

both irritated and piqued the engineer. The relative inferiority which

it proved was of a nature to wound a haughty spirit. A generosity

evinced in such a manner as to elude all tokens of gratitude, implied a

sort of disdain for those on whom the obligation was conferred, which in

Cyrus Harding’s eyes marred, in some degree, the worth of the benefit.

“Let us search,” he resumed, “and God grant that we may some day be

permitted to prove to this haughty protector that he has not to deal

with ungrateful people! What would I not give could we repay him, by

rendering him in our turn, although at the price of our lives, some

signal service!”

From this day, the thoughts of the inhabitants of Lincoln Island were

solely occupied with the intended search. Everything incited them to

discover the answer to this enigma, an answer which would only be the

name of a man endowed with a truly inexplicable, and in some degree

superhuman power.

In a few minutes, the settlers re-entered the house, where their

influence soon restored to Ayrton his moral and physical energy. Neb

and Pencroft carried the corpses of the convicts into the forest, some

distance from the corral, and buried them deep in the ground.

Ayrton was then made acquainted with the facts which had occurred during

his seclusion. He learned Herbert’s adventures, and through what various

trials the colonists had passed. As to the settlers, they had despaired

of ever seeing Ayrton again, and had been convinced that the convicts

had ruthlessly murdered him.

“And now,” said Cyrus Harding, as he ended his recital, “a duty remains

for us to perform. Half of our task is accomplished, but although the

convicts are no longer to be feared, it is not owing to ourselves that

we are once more masters of the island.”

“Well!” answered Gideon Spilett, “let us search all this labyrinth of

the spurs of Mount Franklin. We will not leave a hollow, not a hole

unexplored! Ah! if ever a reporter found himself face to face with a

mystery, it is I who now speak to you, my friends!”

“And we will not return to Granite House until we have found our

benefactor,” said Herbert.

“Yes,” said the engineer, “we will do all that it is humanly possible to

do, but I repeat we shall not find him until he himself permits us.”

“Shall we stay at the corral?” asked Pencroft.

“We shall stay here,” answered Harding. “Provisions are abundant, and we

are here in the very center of the circle we have to explore. Besides,

if necessary, the cart will take us rapidly to Granite House.”

“Good!” answered the sailor. “Only I have a remark to make.”

“What is it?”

“Here is the fine season getting on, and we must not forget that we have

a voyage to make.”

“A voyage?” said Gideon Spilett.

“Yes, to Tabor Island,” answered Pencroft. “It is necessary to carry a

notice there to point out the position of our island and say that Ayrton

is here in case the Scotch yacht should come to take him off. Who knows

if it is not already too late?”

“But, Pencroft,” asked Ayrton, “how do you intend to make this voyage?”

“In the ‘Bonadventure.’”

“The ‘Bonadventure!’” exclaimed Ayrton. “She no longer exists.”

“My ‘Bonadventure’ exists no longer!” shouted Pencroft, bounding from

his seat.

“No,” answered Ayrton. “The convicts discovered her in her little harbor

only eight days ago, they put to sea in her--”

“And?” said Pencroft, his heart beating.

“And not having Bob Harvey to steer her, they ran on the rocks, and the

vessel went to pieces.”

“Oh, the villains, the cutthroats, the infamous scoundrels!” exclaimed

Pencroft.

“Pencroft,” said Herbert, taking the sailor’s hand, “we will build

another ‘Bonadventure’--a larger one. We have all the ironwork--all the

rigging of the brig at our disposal.”

“But do you know,” returned Pencroft, “that it will take at least five

or six months to build a vessel of from thirty to forty tons?”

“We can take our time,” said the reporter, “and we must give up the

voyage to Tabor Island for this year.”

“Oh, my ‘Bonadventure!’ my poor ‘Bonadventure!’” cried Pencroft, almost

broken-hearted at the destruction of the vessel of which he was so

proud.

The loss of the “Bonadventure” was certainly a thing to be lamented by

the colonists, and it was agreed that this loss should be repaired

as soon as possible. This settled, they now occupied themselves with

bringing their researches to bear on the most secret parts of the

island.

The exploration was commenced at daybreak on the 19th of February, and

lasted an entire week. The base of the mountain, with its spurs and

their numberless ramifications, formed a labyrinth of valleys and

elevations. It was evident that there, in the depths of these narrow

gorges, perhaps even in the interior of Mount Franklin itself, was the

proper place to pursue their researches. No part of the island could

have been more suitable to conceal a dwelling whose occupant wished to

remain unknown. But so irregular was the formation of the valleys that

Cyrus Harding was obliged to conduct the exploration in a strictly

methodical manner.

The colonists first visited the valley opening to the south of the

volcano, and which first received the waters of Falls River. There

Ayrton showed them the cavern where the convicts had taken refuge, and

in which he had been imprisoned until his removal to the corral. This

cavern was just as Ayrton had left it. They found there a considerable

quantity of ammunition and provisions, conveyed thither by the convicts

in order to form a reserve.

The whole of the valley bordering on the cave, shaded by fir and

other trees, was thoroughly explored, and on turning the point of the

southwestern spur, the colonists entered a narrower gorge similar to the

picturesque columns of basalt on the coast. Here the trees were fewer.

Stones took the place of grass. Goats and musmons gambolled among the

rocks. Here began the barren part of the island. It could already be

seen that, of the numerous valleys branching off at the base of Mount

Franklin, three only were wooded and rich in pasturage like that of the

corral, which bordered on the west on the Falls River valley, and on the

east on the Red Creek valley. These two streams, which lower down became

rivers by the absorption of several tributaries, were formed by all the

springs of the mountain and thus caused the fertility of its southern

part. As to the Mercy, it was more directly fed from ample springs

concealed under the cover of Jacamar Wood, and it was by springs of

this nature, spreading in a thousand streamlets, that the soil of the

Serpentine Peninsula was watered.

Now, of these three well-watered valleys, either might have served as a

retreat to some solitary who would have found there everything necessary

for life. But the settlers had already explored them, and in no part had

they discovered the presence of man.

Was it then in the depths of those barren gorges, in the midst of the

piles of rock, in the rugged northern ravines, among the streams of

lava, that this dwelling and its occupant would be found?

The northern part of Mount Franklin was at its base composed solely of

two valleys, wide, not very deep, without any appearance of vegetation,

strewn with masses of rock, paved with lava, and varied with great

blocks of mineral. This region required a long and careful exploration.

It contained a thousand cavities, comfortless no doubt, but perfectly

concealed and difficult of access.

The colonists even visited dark tunnels, dating from the volcanic

period, still black from the passage of the fire, and penetrated into

the depths of the mountain. They traversed these somber galleries,

waving lighted torches; they examined the smallest excavations; they

sounded the shallowest depths, but all was dark and silent. It did

not appear that the foot of man had ever before trodden these ancient

passages, or that his arm had ever displaced one of these blocks, which

remained as the volcano had cast them up above the waters, at the time

of the submersion of the island.

However, although these passages appeared to be absolutely deserted, and

the obscurity was complete, Cyrus Harding was obliged to confess that

absolute silence did not reign there.

On arriving at the end of one of these gloomy caverns, extending several

hundred feet into the interior of the mountain, he was surprised to hear

a deep rumbling noise, increased in intensity by the sonorousness of the

rocks.

Gideon Spilett, who accompanied him, also heard these distant

mutterings, which indicated a revivification of the subterranean fires.

Several times both listened, and they agreed that some chemical process

was taking place in the bowels of the earth.

“Then the volcano is not totally extinct?” said the reporter.

“It is possible that since our exploration of the crater,” replied Cyrus

Harding, “some change has occurred. Any volcano, although considered

extinct, may evidently again burst forth.”

“But if an eruption of Mount Franklin occurred,” asked Spilett, “would

there not be some danger to Lincoln Island?”

“I do not think so,” answered the reporter. “The crater, that is to

say, the safety-valve, exists, and the overflow of smoke and lava, would

escape, as it did formerly, by this customary outlet.”

“Unless the lava opened a new way for itself towards the fertile parts

of the island!”

“And why, my dear Spilett,” answered Cyrus Harding, “should it not

follow the road naturally traced out for it?”

“Well, volcanoes are capricious,” returned the reporter.

“Notice,” answered the engineer, “that the inclination of Mount Franklin

favors the flow of water towards the valleys which we are exploring just

now. To turn aside this flow, an earthquake would be necessary to change

the mountain’s center of gravity.”

“But an earthquake is always to be feared at these times,” observed

Gideon Spilett.

“Always,” replied the engineer, “especially when the subterranean forces

begin to awake, as they risk meeting with some obstruction, after a long

rest. Thus, my dear Spilett, an eruption would be a serious thing

for us, and it would be better that the volcano should not have the

slightest desire to wake up. But we could not prevent it, could we? At

any rate, even if it should occur, I do not think Prospect Heights would

be seriously threatened. Between them and the mountain, the ground

is considerably depressed, and if the lava should ever take a course

towards the lake, it would be cast on the downs and the neighboring

parts of Shark Gulf.”

“We have not yet seen any smoke at the top of the mountain, to indicate

an approaching eruption,” said Gideon Spilett.

“No,” answered Harding, “not a vapor escapes from the crater, for it

was only yesterday that I attentively surveyed the summit. But it

is probable that at the lower part of the chimney, time may have

accumulated rocks, cinders, hardened lava, and that this valve of which

I spoke, may at any time become overcharged. But at the first serious

effort, every obstacle will disappear, and you may be certain, my dear

Spilett, that neither the island, which is the boiler, nor the

volcano, which is the chimney, will burst under the pressure of gas.

Nevertheless, I repeat, it would be better that there should not be an

eruption.”

“And yet we are not mistaken,” remarked the reporter. “Mutterings can be

distinctly heard in the very bowels of the volcano!”

“You are right,” said the engineer, again listening attentively. “There

can be no doubt of it. A commotion is going on there, of which we can

neither estimate the importance nor the ultimate result.”

Cyrus Harding and Spilett, on coming out, rejoined their companions, to

whom they made known the state of affairs.

“Very well!” cried Pencroft, “The volcano wants to play his pranks! Let

him try, if he likes! He will find his master!”

“Who?” asked Neb.

“Our good genius, Neb, our good genius, who will shut his mouth for him,

if he so much as pretends to open it!”

As may be seen, the sailor’s confidence in the tutelary deity of his

island was absolute, and, certainly, the occult power, manifested until

now in so many inexplicable ways, appeared to be unlimited; but also it

knew how to escape the colonists’ most minute researches, for, in

spite of all their efforts, in spite of the more than zeal,--the

obstinacy,--with which they carried on their exploration, the retreat of

the mysterious being could not be discovered.

From the 19th to the 20th of February the circle of investigation was

extended to all the northern region of Lincoln Island, whose most secret

nooks were explored. The colonists even went the length of tapping every

rock. The search was extended to the extreme verge of the mountain. It

was explored thus to the very summit of the truncated cone terminating

the first row of rocks, then to the upper ridge of the enormous hat, at

the bottom of which opened the crater.

They did more; they visited the gulf, now extinct, but in whose depths

the rumbling could be distinctly heard. However, no sign of smoke or

vapor, no heating of the rock, indicated an approaching eruption.

But neither there, nor in any other part of Mount Franklin, did the

colonists find any traces of him of whom they were in search.

Their investigations were then directed to the downs. They carefully

examined the high lava-cliffs of Shark Gulf from the base to the crest,

although it was extremely difficult to reach even the level of the gulf.

No one!--nothing!

Indeed, in these three words was summed up so much fatigue uselessly

expended, so much energy producing no results, that somewhat of anger

mingled with the discomfiture of Cyrus Harding and his companions.

It was now time to think of returning, for these researches could not be

prolonged indefinitely. The colonists were certainly right in believing

that the mysterious being did not reside on the surface of the island,

and the wildest fancies haunted their excited imaginations. Pencroft

and Neb, particularly, were not contented with the mystery, but allowed

their imaginations to wander into the domain of the supernatural.

On the 25th of February the colonists re-entered Granite House, and by

means of the double cord, carried by an arrow to the threshold of the

door, they re-established communication between their habitation and the

ground.

A month later they commemorated, on the 25th of March, the third

anniversary of their arrival on Lincoln Island.

Chapter 14

Three years had passed away since the escape of the prisoners from

Richmond, and how often during those three years had they spoken of

their country, always present in their thoughts!

They had no doubt that the civil war was at an end, and to them it

appeared impossible that the just cause of the North had not triumphed.

But what had been the incidents of this terrible war? How much blood had

it not cost? How many of their friends must have fallen in the struggle?

They often spoke of these things, without as yet being able to foresee

the day when they would be permitted once more to see their country.

To return thither, were it but for a few days, to renew the social link

with the inhabited world, to establish a communication between their

native land and their island, then to pass the longest, perhaps the

best, portion of their existence in this colony, founded by them,

and which would then be dependent on their country, was this a dream

impossible to realize?

There were only two ways of accomplishing it--either a ship must appear

off Lincoln Island, or the colonists must themselves build a vessel

strong enough to sail to the nearest land.

“Unless,” said Pencroft, “our good genius, himself provides us with the

means of returning to our country.”

And, really, had any one told Pencroft and Neb that a ship of 300 tons

was waiting for them in Shark Gulf or at Port Balloon, they would not

even have made a gesture of surprise. In their state of mind nothing

appeared improbable.

But Cyrus Harding, less confident, advised them to confine themselves to

fact, and more especially so with regard to the building of a vessel--a

really urgent work, since it was for the purpose of depositing, as

soon as possible, at Tabor Island a document indicating Ayrton’s new

residence.

As the “Bonadventure” no longer existed, six months at least would

be required for the construction of a new vessel. Now winter was

approaching, and the voyage would not be made before the following

spring.

“We have time to get everything ready for the fine season,” remarked

the engineer, who was consulting with Pencroft about these matters. “I

think, therefore, my friend, that since we have to rebuild our vessel

it will be best to give her larger dimensions. The arrival of the Scotch

yacht at Tabor Island is very uncertain. It may even be that, having

arrived several months ago, she has again sailed after having vainly

searched for some trace of Ayrton. Will it not then be best to build

a ship which, if necessary, could take us either to the Polynesian

Archipelago or to New Zealand? What do you think?”

“I think, captain,” answered the sailor; “I think that you are as

capable of building a large vessel as a small one. Neither the wood nor

the tools are wanting. It is only a question of time.”

“And how many months would be required to build a vessel of from 250 to

300 tons?” asked Harding.

“Seven or eight months at least,” replied Pencroft. “But it must not be

forgotten that winter is drawing near, and that in severe frost wood is

difficult to work. We must calculate on several weeks delay, and if our

vessel is ready by next November we may think ourselves very lucky.”

“Well,” replied Cyrus Harding, “that will be exactly the most favorable

time for undertaking a voyage of any importance, either to Tabor Island

or to a more distant land.”

“So it will, captain,” answered the sailor. “Make out your plans then;

the workmen are ready, and I imagine that Ayrton can lend us a good

helping hand.”

The colonists, having been consulted, approved the engineer’s plan,

and it was, indeed, the best thing to be done. It is true that the

construction of a ship of from two to three hundred tons would be great

labor, but the colonists had confidence in themselves, justified by

their previous success.

Cyrus Harding then busied himself in drawing the plan of the vessel and

making the model. During this time his companions employed themselves in

felling and carting trees to furnish the ribs, timbers, and planks.

The forest of the Far West supplied the best oaks and elms. They took

advantage of the opening already made on their last excursion to form a

practicable road, which they named the Far West Road, and the trees were

carried to the Chimneys, where the dockyard was established. As to

the road in question, the choice of trees had rendered its direction

somewhat capricious, but at the same time it facilitated the access to a

large part of the Serpentine Peninsula.

It was important that the trees should be quickly felled and cut up, for

they could not be used while yet green, and some time was necessary to

allow them to get seasoned. The carpenters, therefore, worked vigorously

during the month of April, which was troubled only by a few equinoctial

gales of some violence. Master Jup aided them dexterously, either by

climbing to the top of a tree to fasten the ropes or by lending his

stout shoulders to carry the lopped trunks.

All this timber was piled up under a large shed, built near the

Chimneys, and there awaited the time for use.

The month of April was tolerably fine, as October often is in the

northern zone. At the same time other work was actively continued, and

soon all trace of devastation disappeared from the plateau of

Prospect Heights. The mill was rebuilt, and new buildings rose in the

poultry-yard. It had appeared necessary to enlarge their dimensions,

for the feathered population had increased considerably. The stable

now contained five onagers, four of which were well broken, and allowed

themselves to be either driven or ridden, and a little colt. The colony

now possessed a plow, to which the onagers were yoked like regular

Yorkshire or Kentucky oxen. The colonists divided their work, and their

arms never tired. Then who could have enjoyed better health than these

workers, and what good humor enlivened the evenings in Granite House as

they formed a thousand plans for the future!

As a matter of course Ayrton shared the common lot in every respect,

and there was no longer any talk of his going to live at the corral.

Nevertheless he was still sad and reserved, and joined more in the work

than in the pleasures of his companions. But he was a valuable workman

at need--strong, skilful, ingenious, intelligent. He was esteemed and

loved by all, and he could not be ignorant of it.

In the meanwhile the corral was not abandoned. Every other day one of

the settlers, driving the cart or mounted on an onager, went to look

after the flock of musmons and goats and bring back the supply of

milk required by Neb. These excursions at the same time afforded

opportunities for hunting. Therefore Herbert and Gideon Spilett, with

Top in front, traversed more often than their companions the road to

the corral, and with the capital guns which they carried, capybaras,

agouties, kangaroos, and wild pigs for large game, ducks, grouse,

jacamars, and snipe for small game, were never wanting in the house.

The produce of the warren, of the oyster-bed, several turtles which were

taken, excellent salmon which came up the Mercy, vegetables from the

plateau, wild fruit from the forest, were riches upon riches, and Neb,

the head cook, could scarcely by himself store them away.

The telegraphic wire between the corral and Granite House had of course

been repaired, and it was worked whenever one or other of the settlers

was at the corral and found it necessary to spend the night there.

Besides, the island was safe now and no attacks were to be feared, at

any rate from men.

However, that which had happened might happen again. A descent of

pirates, or even of escaped convicts, was always to be feared. It was

possible that companions or accomplices of Bob Harvey had been in the

secret of his plans, and might be tempted to imitate him. The colonists,

therefore, were careful to observe the sea around the island, and every

day their telescope covered the horizon enclosed by Union and Washington

Bays. When they went to the corral they examined the sea to the west

with no less attention, and by climbing the spur their gaze extended

over a large section of the western horizon.

Nothing suspicious was discerned, but still it was necessary for them to

be on their guard.

The engineer one evening imparted to his friends a plan which he had

conceived for fortifying the corral. It appeared prudent to him to

heighten the palisade and to flank it with a sort of blockhouse, which,

if necessary, the settlers could hold against the enemy. Granite House

might, by its very position, be considered impregnable; therefore the

corral with its buildings, its stores, and the animals it contained,

would always be the object of pirates, whoever they were, who might land

on the island, and should the colonists be obliged to shut themselves

up there they ought also to be able to defend themselves without any

disadvantage. This was a project which might be left for consideration,

and they were, besides, obliged to put off its execution until the next

spring.

About the 15th of May the keel of the new vessel lay along the dockyard,

and soon the stem and stern-post, mortised at each of its extremities,

rose almost perpendicularly. The keel, of good oak, measured 110 feet

in length, this allowing a width of five-and-twenty feet to the midship

beam. But this was all the carpenters could do before the arrival of the

frosts and bad weather. During the following week they fixed the first

of the stern timbers, but were then obliged to suspend work.

During the last days of the month the weather was extremely bad. The

wind blew from the east, sometimes with the violence of a tempest. The

engineer was somewhat uneasy on account of the dockyard shed--which

besides, he could not have established in any other place near to

Granite House--for the islet only imperfectly sheltered the shore from

the fury of the open sea, and in great storms the waves beat against the

very foot of the granite cliff.

But, very fortunately, these fears were not realized. The wind shifted

to the southeast, and there the beach of Granite House was completely

covered by Flotsam Point.

Pencroft and Ayrton, the most zealous workmen at the new vessel, pursued

their labor as long as they could. They were not men to mind the wind

tearing at their hair, nor the rain wetting them to the skin, and a blow

from a hammer is worth just as much in bad as in fine weather. But when

a severe frost succeeded this wet period, the wood, its fibers acquiring

the hardness of iron, became extremely difficult to work, and about the

10th of June shipbuilding was obliged to be entirely discontinued.

Cyrus Harding and his companions had not omitted to observe how severe

was the temperature during the winters of Lincoln Island. The cold was

comparable to that experienced in the States of New England, situated at

almost the same distance from the equator. In the northern hemisphere,

or at any rate in the part occupied by British America and the north of

the United States, this phenomenon is explained by the flat conformation

of the territories bordering on the pole, and on which there is no

intumescence of the soil to oppose any obstacle to the north winds;

here, in Lincoln Island, this explanation would not suffice.

“It has even been observed,” remarked Harding one day to his companions,

“that in equal latitudes the islands and coast regions are less tried by

the cold than inland countries. I have often heard it asserted that the

winters of Lombardy, for example, are not less rigorous than those of

Scotland, which results from the sea restoring during the winter the

heat which it received during the summer. Islands are, therefore, in a

better situation for benefiting by this restitution.”

“But then, Captain Harding,” asked Herbert, “why does Lincoln Island

appear to escape the common law?”

“That is difficult to explain,” answered the engineer. “However, I

should be disposed to conjecture that this peculiarity results from the

situation of the island in the Southern Hemisphere, which, as you know,

my boy, is colder than the Northern Hemisphere.”

“Yes,” said Herbert, “and icebergs are met with in lower latitudes in

the south than in the north of the Pacific.”

“That is true,” remarked Pencroft, “and when I have been serving on

board whalers I have seen icebergs off Cape Horn.”

“The severe cold experienced in Lincoln Island,” said Gideon Spilett,

“may then perhaps be explained by the presence of floes or icebergs

comparatively near to Lincoln Island.”

“Your opinion is very admissible indeed, my dear Spilett,” answered

Cyrus Harding, “and it is evidently to the proximity of icebergs that

we owe our rigorous winters. I would draw your attention also to an

entirely physical cause, which renders the Southern colder than the

Northern Hemisphere. In fact, since the sun is nearer to this hemisphere

during the summer, it is necessarily more distant during the winter.

This explains then the excess of temperature in the two seasons, for, if

we find the winters very cold in Lincoln Island, we must not forget that

the summers here, on the contrary, are very hot.”

“But why, if you please, captain,” asked Pencroft, knitting his brows,

“why should our hemisphere, as you say, be so badly divided? It isn’t

just, that!”

“Friend Pencroft,” answered the engineer, laughing, “whether just

or not, we must submit to it, and here lies the reason for this

peculiarity. The earth does not describe a circle around the sun, but

an ellipse, as it must by the laws of rational mechanics. Now, the earth

occupies one of the foci of the ellipse, and so at one point in its

course is at its apogee, that is, at its farthest from the sun, and

at another point it is at its perigee, or nearest to the sun. Now it

happens that it is during the winter of the southern countries that

it is at its most distant point from the sun, and consequently, in a

situation for those regions to feel the greatest cold. Nothing can be

done to prevent that, and men, Pencroft, however learned they may be,

can never change anything of the cosmographical order established by God

Himself.”

“And yet,” added Pencroft, “the world is very learned. What a big book,

captain, might be made with all that is known!”

“And what a much bigger book still with all that is not known!” answered

Harding.

At last, for one reason or another, the month of June brought the cold

with its accustomed intensity, and the settlers were often confined to

Granite House. Ah! how wearisome this imprisonment was to them, and more

particularly to Gideon Spilett.

“Look here,” said he to Neb one day, “I would give you by notarial

deed all the estates which will come to me some day, if you were a good

enough fellow to go, no matter where, and subscribe to some newspaper

for me! Decidedly the thing that is most essential to my happiness is

the knowing every morning what has happened the day before in other

places than this!”

Neb began to laugh.

“‘Pon my word,” he replied, “the only thing I think about is my daily

work!”

The truth was that indoors as well as out there was no want of work.

The colony of Lincoln Island was now at its highest point of prosperity,

achieved by three years of continued hard work. The destruction of the

brig had been a new source of riches. Without speaking of the complete

rig which would serve for the vessel now on the stocks, utensils and

tools of all sorts, weapons and ammunition, clothes and instruments,

were now piled in the storerooms of Granite House. It had not even

been necessary to resort again to the manufacture of the coarse felt

materials. Though the colonists had suffered from cold during their

first winter, the bad season might now come without their having any

reason to dread its severity. Linen was plentiful also, and besides,

they kept it with extreme care. From chloride of sodium, which is

nothing else than sea salt, Cyrus Harding easily extracted the soda and

chlorine. The soda, which it was easy to change into carbonate of soda,

and the chlorine, of which he made chloride of lime, were employed for

various domestic purposes, and especially in bleaching linen. Besides,

they did not wash more than four times a year, as was done by families

in the olden times, and it may be added, that Pencroft and Gideon

Spilett, while waiting for the postman to bring him his newspaper,

distinguished themselves as washermen.

So passed the winter months, June, July, and August. They were severe,

and the average observations of the thermometer did not give more than

eight degrees of Fahrenheit. It was therefore lower in temperature than

the preceding winter. But then, what splendid fires blazed continually

on the hearths of Granite House, the smoke marking the granite wall with

long, zebra-like streaks! Fuel was not spared, as it grew naturally a

few steps from them. Besides, the chips of the wood destined for the

construction of the ship enabled them to economize the coal, which

required more trouble to transport.

Men and animals were all well. Master Jup was a little chilly, it must

be confessed. This was perhaps his only weakness, and it was necessary

to make him a well-padded dressing-gown. But what a servant he was,

clever, zealous, indefatigable, not indiscreet, not talkative, and

he might have been with reason proposed as a model for all his biped

brothers in the Old and New Worlds!

“As for that,” said Pencroft, “when one has four hands at one’s service,

of course one’s work ought to be done so much the better!”

And indeed the intelligent creature did it well.

During the seven months which had passed since the last researches made

round the mountain, and during the month of September, which brought

back fine weather, nothing was heard of the genius of the island. His

power was not manifested in any way. It is true that it would have

been superfluous, for no incident occurred to put the colonists to any

painful trial.

Cyrus Harding even observed that if by chance the communication between

the unknown and the tenants of Granite House had ever been established

through the granite, and if Top’s instinct had as it were felt it, there

was no further sign of it during this period. The dog’s growling

had entirely ceased, as well as the uneasiness of the orang. The two

friends--for they were such--no longer prowled round the opening of the

inner well, nor did they bark or whine in that singular way which from

the first the engineer had noticed. But could he be sure that this was

all that was to be said about this enigma, and that he should never

arrive at a solution? Could he be certain that some conjuncture would

not occur which would bring the mysterious personage on the scene? who

could tell what the future might have in reserve?

At last the winter was ended, but an event, the consequences of which

might be serious occurred in the first days of the returning spring.

On the 7th of September, Cyrus Harding, having observed the crater, saw

smoke curling round the summit of the mountain, its first vapors rising

in the air.

Chapter 15

The colonists, warned by the engineer, left their work and gazed in

silence at the summit of Mount Franklin.

The volcano had awoke, and the vapor had penetrated the mineral layer

heaped at the bottom of the crater. But would the subterranean fires

provoke any violent eruption? This was an event which could not be

foreseen. However, even while admitting the possibility of an eruption,

it was not probable that the whole of Lincoln Island would suffer from

it. The flow of volcanic matter is not always disastrous, and the island

had already undergone this trial, as was shown by the streams of lava

hardened on the northern slopes of the mountain. Besides, from the shape

of the crater--the opening broken in the upper edge--the matter would be

thrown to the side opposite the fertile regions of the island.

However, the past did not necessarily answer for the future. Often, at

the summit of volcanoes, the old craters close and new ones open.

This had occurred in the two hemispheres--at Etna, Popocatepetl, at

Orizabaand on the eve of an eruption there is everything to be feared.

In fact, an earthquake--a phenomenon which often accompanies volcanic

eruption--is enough to change the interior arrangement of a mountain,

and to open new outlets for the burning lava.

Cyrus Harding explained these things to his companions, and, without

exaggerating the state of things, he told them all the pros and cons.

After all, they could not prevent it. It did not appear likely that

Granite House would be threatened unless the ground was shaken by an

earthquake. But the corral would be in great danger should a new crater

open in the southern side of Mount Franklin.

From that day the smoke never disappeared from the top of the mountain,

and it could even be perceived that it increased in height and

thickness, without any flame mingling in its heavy volumes. The

phenomenon was still concentrated in the lower part of the central

crater.

However, with the fine days work had been continued. The building of the

vessel was hastened as much as possible, and, by means of the waterfall

on the shore, Cyrus Harding managed to establish an hydraulic sawmill,

which rapidly cut up the trunks of trees into planks and joists. The

mechanism of this apparatus was as simple as those used in the rustic

sawmills of Norway. A first horizontal movement to move the piece of

wood, a second vertical movement to move the saw--this was all that was

wanted; and the engineer succeeded by means of a wheel, two cylinders,

and pulleys properly arranged. Towards the end of the month of September

the skeleton of the vessel, which was to be rigged as a schooner, lay

in the dockyard. The ribs were almost entirely completed, and, all the

timbers having been sustained by a provisional band, the shape of the

vessel could already be seen. The schooner, sharp in the bows, very

slender in the after-part, would evidently be suitable for a long

voyage, if wanted; but laying the planking would still take a

considerable time. Very fortunately, the iron work of the pirate brig

had been saved after the explosion. From the planks and injured ribs

Pencroft and Ayrton had extracted the bolts and a large quantity

of copper nails. It was so much work saved for the smiths, but the

carpenters had much to do.

Shipbuilding was interrupted for a week for the harvest, the haymaking,

and the gathering in of the different crops on the plateau. This work

finished, every moment was devoted to finishing the schooner. When night

came the workmen were really quite exhausted. So as not to lose any

time they had changed the hours for their meals; they dined at twelve

o’clock, and only had their supper when daylight failed them. They then

ascended to Granite House, when they were always ready to go to bed.

Sometimes, however, when the conversation bore on some interesting

subject the hour for sleep was delayed for a time. The colonists then

spoke of the future, and talked willingly of the changes which a voyage

in the schooner to inhabited lands would make in their situation.

But always, in the midst of these plans, prevailed the thought of a

subsequent return to Lincoln Island. Never would they abandon this

colony, founded with so much labor and with such success, and to which

a communication with America would afford a fresh impetus. Pencroft and

Neb especially hoped to end their days there.

“Herbert,” said the sailor, “you will never abandon Lincoln Island?”

“Never, Pencroft, and especially if you make up your mind to stay

there.”

“That was made up long ago, my boy,” answered Pencroft. “I shall expect

you. You will bring me your wife and children, and I shall make jolly

chaps of your youngsters!”

“That’s agreed,” replied Herbert, laughing and blushing at the same

time.

“And you, Captain Harding,” resumed Pencroft enthusiastically, “you will

be still the governor of the island! Ah, how many inhabitants could it

support? Ten thousand at least!”

They talked in this way, allowing Pencroft to run on, and at last the

reporter actually started a newspaper--the New Lincoln Herald!

So is man’s heart. The desire to perform a work which will endure, which

will survive him, is the origin of his superiority over all other living

creatures here below. It is this which has established his dominion, and

this it is which justifies it, over all the world.

After that, who knows if Jup and Top had not themselves their little

dream of the future.

Ayrton silently said to himself that he would like to see Lord Glenarvan

again and show himself to all restored.

One evening, on the 15th of October, the conversation was prolonged

later than usual. It was nine o’clock. Already, long badly concealed

yawns gave warning of the hour of rest, and Pencroft was proceeding

towards his bed, when the electric bell, placed in the dining-room,

suddenly rang.

All were there, Cyrus Harding, Gideon Spilett, Herbert, Ayrton,

Pencroft, Neb. Therefore none of the colonists were at the corral.

Cyrus Harding rose. His companions stared at each other, scarcely

believing their ears.

“What does that mean?” cried Neb. “Was it the devil who rang it?”

No one answered.

“The weather is stormy,” observed Herbert. “Might not its influence of

electricity--”

Herbert did not finish his phrase. The engineer, towards whom all eyes

were turned, shook his head negatively.

“We must wait,” said Gideon Spilett. “If it is a signal, whoever it may

be who has made it, he will renew it.”

“But who do you think it is?” cried Neb.

“Who?” answered Pencroft, “but he--”

The sailor’s sentence was cut short by a new tinkle of the bell.

Harding went to the apparatus, and sent this question to the corral:--

“What do you want?”

A few moments later the needle, moving on the alphabetic dial, gave this

reply to the tenants of Granite House:--

“Come to the corral immediately.”

“At last!” exclaimed Harding.

Yes! At last! The mystery was about to be unveiled. The colonists’

fatigue had disappeared before the tremendous interest which was about

to urge them to the corral, and all wish for rest had ceased. Without

having uttered a word, in a few moments they had left Granite House,

and were standing on the beach. Jup and Top alone were left behind. They

could do without them.

The night was black. The new moon had disappeared at the same time as

the sun. As Herbert had observed, great stormy clouds formed a lowering

and heavy vault, preventing any star rays. A few lightning flashes,

reflections from a distant storm, illuminated the horizon.

It was possible that a few hours later the thunder would roll over the

island itself. The night was very threatening.

But however deep the darkness was, it would not prevent them from

finding the familiar road to the corral.

They ascended the left bank of the Mercy, reached the plateau, passed

the bridge over Creek Glycerine, and advanced through the forest.